The Love Letters (32 page)

T
he very next evening, Roman surprised Ellie by urging her to invite Boston to join them at the supper table. Happily, she complied.

After the silent prayer of thanksgiving, there was some lighthearted talk about Boston's ever-increasing beard and moustache. His thick eyebrows rose at the children as he remarked that he hadn't seen a single upper lip sporting hair anywhere at yesterday's Preaching service. Then the topic of his bow tie—missing yet again—came up when Small Jay asked about it, but Boston didn't seem worried.

“Do the men of your community ever wear ties to adorn their Sunday shirts?” he asked.

“Some church districts allow it,” Roman spoke up, “but ours is considered a low church, so we're more traditional—and simple and modest.”

“What do you consider a high church?” Boston asked, eyes serious.

“Some call it progressive,” Roman told him. “They go softer on the
Ordnung,
allowing telephones, holding Sunday school
on the between Sundays, even lettin' some members drive cars, of all things.”

He's thinking of my sister Orpha and her husband, Abram,
thought Ellie, wondering how far Roman would take this conversation.

Boston bobbed his head, his expression playful, and asked if it was permissible to request seconds. Roman said it was fine, and then he, too, helped himself to more of the ham loaf and mashed potatoes and gravy.

At the end of the meal, Boston offered hard candy to everyone, beginning with young Sally. “I purchased it at Joe's store the other day with your young man here.”

Sassafras came meowing over like she wanted some, too, and Boston patted her little head while the girls thanked him repeatedly.

Ellie noticed how quiet Small Jay was. Quiet and pensive.
So far, this has been a different kind of summer for him . . . for all of us.

When the chatter died down, Roman mentioned that the farrier would be coming tomorrow to scrape the horses' shoes and to check if they needed new ones. Immediately, the girls asked if they could go out and watch. Roman paused a moment, his eyes lighting on Small Jay. “Don't ya think it's your brother's turn this time?”

Small Jay made a little gasp. “I'd like that, Dat. I would!”

Ellie smiled at their boy and her husband, then nodded her approval.

“Maybe Boston would like to go with ya, too,” Roman said just before folding his hands and bowing his head, ready for the second silent prayer.

Ellie followed her husband's lead, thanking God for their
scrumptious meal, and for Roman's budding interest in their son.

Between baking two loaves of bread and doing all the ironing Tuesday morning, Marlena also took time to play with Angela Rose, thrilled at her progress in trying to push onto her knees. “You can do it, sweetie,” she encouraged her, clapping when she'd get up on her hands and knees, only to flop down on her tummy again. Marlena was careful not to applaud when Mammi was around, guessing she might frown on it. Even so, Marlena knew firsthand that her own mother had coddled Katie and Rachel Ann till they were each two years old, the age when training in character development and yielding to authority began in earnest.

So I'll spoil you for a little longer,
she thought, enjoying Angela Rose's dovelike cooing.

The mail came early that morning, and Marlena spotted a letter from Nat. She couldn't open it fast enough and begin to read.

My dearest Marlena,

How is your little niece faring? Truth be told, I was surprised to hear your sister's baby is still in your care. No doubt, though, you're eager to return Angela Rose to her rightful place with her father's family. An Englischer child belongs with her people, after all.

I've looked to my own father for some advice concerning several things, Marlena. And since you and I are planning to join church together, I do expect you to stop attending Mennonite services there in Brownstown. Frankly, it gives
everyone here the wrong impression, and Dat says nothing good can come from flirting with the edges. It's essential for our future as man and wife that you hear me out on this, or we'll need to discuss our future together.

Marlena reread the last lines, attempting to comprehend. Not only did Nat seem certain that Angela Rose did not belong with her, but he was clearly displeased to hear that Marlena planned to continue to attend church with her Mammi—so much so that her beau seemed to be giving an ultimatum. Yet, why now? Surely this was all due to his father pressing him. Marlena recalled what her mother had mentioned when she'd called.

Distressed, Marlena wasn't sure why it was so necessary for her to quit going to Mammi's church now, when she would only be in Brownstown a couple more months. Oh, in her heart of hearts, Marlena realized she was reluctant to stop attending any sooner—the words the preacher said each week were a bright spot in the midst of her grief and confusion over first Dawdi's and then Luella's death.
How can I possibly give that up?

“Or Angela Rose, should it come to that,” she whispered.

And all the rest of the day, Marlena felt covered by a dark and dismal cloud.

Wednesday morning, when Sarah Mast was dropped off by her mother in the family carriage, Marlena had already decided to pour her melancholy about Nat's letter into a sketch for the baby quilt's design. Thoughtfully, Sarah brought along a few crazy quilt sketches, one of which her cousin had made.

The two of them laid out the piecework and took turns
holding Angela Rose. Later, they had some of Sarah's wonderfully moist midnight chocolate cake while Mammi Janice embroidered pillowcases on the back porch, humming hymns.

“Luke mentioned meeting your young niece Sunday, out on the road,” Sarah said in passing. “He said she was a very sweet baby.”

“Oh, and she is.”

Sarah wiggled her fingers at Angela. “I s'pose it's hard not to dote on such a perty baby. But you don't want her to become vain.”

“You're right 'bout that.”

Sarah studied the drawing Marlena had decided on, and then showed her how to number the pieces on her sketch. “Do ya know what color binding and backing you want?” She asked if Marlena wanted the top and bottom ends to be bound in a different color than the sides. “There are lots of ways to do this, Ellie says.”

“I'm still deciding,” Marlena told her, so glad she'd come.

They discussed scalloped edges and decorative bindings, but it was Sarah who asked if Marlena wanted a quilt more in keeping with a “lower” church like the Old Order, or something that would be acceptable to her grandmother's church.

Hearing it put that way, Marlena realized again what a quandary she was in, not knowing where her niece would grow up—as an Amish child or an
Englischer
.

“Angela Rose's situation is uncertain at this point,” Marlena shared with Sarah. “Honestly, it makes me feel awful sad, thinkin' of losing touch when her father's parents come for her.” She still felt too frustrated with Nat to talk about him just now.

“I hope you and your family will be permitted to see Angela
from time to time,” Sarah said. “She
is
your blood kin, of course.”

Marlena nodded and thanked her for being such a supportive friend.

———

At the appointed time, Luke arrived for his sister. Seeing him from the window, Marlena recalled how fervently he'd prayed along the road the other day. She realized just then that she hadn't even asked Nat to join her in prayer about the challenges facing them, whether about Angela Rose's future or their own.
That's just what I'll write in my next letter to him.
She hoped this request wouldn't cause further conflict, but he needed to know how important prayer was to her.
Nevertheless, if he loves me, we'll work something out.

S
mall Jay had memorized a few of the melodies Boston played on his mouth organ each evening, and sometimes, when his parents weren't within earshot, Small Jay liked to hum along. It was the very best time of day, and he often counted the hours till they sat on the back porch and ate ice cream to cool off.

Small Jay was glad Boston had suddenly been included with the family at mealtimes, though he still wasn't certain how such a thing had come about.

As for the letters, little by little, Boston had been adding what tidbits he remembered as Small Jay read aloud—stopping him to mention new things, like a big black piano in a sun-strewn parlor with an antique music stand nearby.

According to Boston, there were only a few letters left to be read. More and more, Small Jay had been getting the feeling that Boston might wake up one morning and remember where he belonged. There were times when he felt sure Boston's memory was slowly getting better, at least here and there.
Maybe Dr. Isaac
's cures are working.

That weekend, Mamma asked Boston if he'd like to go to market next Saturday with her and Small Jay. “I think you'd enjoy yourself,” she said, a light in her eyes.

“Is it permissible to nap at market?” Boston asked jokingly. “Napping seems to be what I do best.”

Mamma refuted that but said she'd make sure there was a chair for him behind the table. “We'll only be able to stay till a little before noon, since I'll have some baking to do,” she added.

Small Jay's mouth watered at the thought of freshly baked pies and cookies, though he was mostly happy that his English friend could finally experience the marketplace for himself.
Maybe he can spend some of those dollar bills in his wallet
on more candy or delicious fudge.

Marlena hadn't waited long to answer Nat's letter. In fact, she'd already sent hers, hoping to hear something back from him right away. She prayed his heart might soften toward her desires and toward Angela Rose. How could he be tentative toward any baby, let alone this one who was so dear to Marlena herself?

She had been loving in her reply but made it clear how she felt about Angela Rose—and how she believed God was calling her to care for her as long as needed. She was also firm about going to church with Mammi Janice for the duration of the summer.
Why must Nat make things so hard—put me in a corner
over this—when surely he knows I'm honoring my
grandmother?

Meanwhile, Mammi had come down with what she called
“der Schnuppe”—
the sniffles—and a fever. Marlena felt certain the illness had been brought on by all the stressful events of late.

When Sunday rolled around and Mammi was still too sick to get up for church, Marlena decided to go on her own. She dressed around and got Angela Rose ready, too. “We'll let Mammi rest awhile,” she whispered.

After breakfast, she slipped the diaper bag over her shoulder and carried her niece out to the roadside. There, Marlena began to walk down the hill toward Bitners', thinking that perhaps one of the New Order families might see her and offer a ride to their house meeting.

After all, Luke and Sarah did invite me.

In a few minutes, Marlena spotted Abram and Orpha Mast, Sarah's parents, and waved for them to stop. Unlike the more traditional buggies around the area, their buggy wheels had rubber strips, the only noticeable difference. It turned out that Luke, Sarah, and two of the other children had gone in another carriage, so there was ample room for Marlena and the baby.

Orpha was brimming with smiles as Marlena got situated. Orpha wore a dress that was nearly as red as one of Luella's fancy dresses, but she had not a stitch of makeup on, and her shoes were black and quite conservative. “Sarah's ever so pleased to help ya work on the baby's quilt,” Orpha said, making room on the front bench seat. “It's really nice of you to make such a unique remembrance for the baby.”

Babbling sweetly, Angela Rose reached her busy little hand toward Orpha's bright sleeve and held on as the horse pulled them forward.

“Sarah says she's a happy little one, and I can surely see that.”

Marlena smiled. “Angela's a real
gut
baby, too. Growin' fast now.”

“How soon will ya start stitchin' up the new quilt?” asked Orpha. “The way Sarah talks, it's unlike most of ours round here.”

Marlena vouched for its not being authentically Amish in pattern or color. “It's a crazy quilt like you've never seen before.”

Orpha laughed softly, and Abram glanced at her, then at Angela Rose, who still gripped Orpha's sleeve. “This is your older sister's baby,
jah
?”

Marlena sighed and nodded. “Luella recently passed away, so I'm lookin' after her for a while.”

“Sarah mentioned something,” Abram replied, his pale blue eyes solemn. “Awful sorry for such a small one.”

They're polite, not asking where the father is. . . .

Orpha added, “She seems at ease with you.”

Marlena recalled again how terribly upset Angela had been her first days there. And it struck her that most folk just went about their daily chores and never gave much thought to the ties that bound a family—how very fragile they could be.

One never knows what change a single day might bring.

Marlena remembered the verse she'd read that morning even before getting out of bed:
“Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest
not what a day may bring forth.”

Each person at the New Order house meeting was so welcoming, though not nearly as many were present as the crowd
at Mammi's meetinghouse. Marlena wondered if their friendliness was in hopes of gathering more converts, as some said. Even so, she believed they were genuinely glad to extend a hand of fellowship to her, and in the midst of her qualms about her and Nat's plans for marriage, the experience was a paradise of peace.

As with the Old Order church, the women and children sat on one side of the long, open room, the men and older boys facing them on the opposite side. Much of the service was similar to what she had grown up with, except that English was spoken in more than half of it. She also noticed this minister making eye contact with the congregation, whereas in her former church, the preacher stared at a wall or fixed his gaze on a window.

Like Abram Mast, the men here wore their hair shorter than her father or Roman Bitner. And the women's cape dresses, for the most part, were louder in color—red, turquoise, and Kelly green.

Marlena liked the fact that they held Sunday school for adults and children on the between Sundays, as Orpha had explained on the way there, saying that each person took turns reading the Scriptures at those house gatherings. They also discussed the particular passages, something never done in an Old Order setting.

What made Marlena most curious about this offshoot of the traditional church was that the young people were required to be baptized
before
they were permitted to date.
“That way, the dating partner knows for
sure they're settled in their beliefs,”
Sarah had said during one of their times together.

After Preaching and before the common meal, Marlena spotted the same attractive brunette she'd once seen riding
with Sarah and Luke. . . the young woman Luke had confided about to her.

Orpha, and later Sarah, offered to hold Angela so Marlena could enoy the simple meal of homemade bread, cold cuts, and strawberry pie. During the meal, Orpha's four sisters-in-law and a few of her same-age cousins came by to smile at Angela Rose, talking to her, which helped Marlena feel accepted, too.

Naturally, she knew better than to expect Luke to seek her out. She had seen him eating with his older brothers and a number of other young men she didn't know, and he never once looked her way. She did notice him glance at the tall brunette several times, however.
I hope he knows I'll keep his secret,
she thought, glad she'd had the idea to worship there.

“Your grandmother doesn't mind your bein' here, does she?” Orpha asked, suddenly looking serious.

“Well, she doesn't know yet,” Marlena admitted. “But she won't mind when I tell her.”

“ 'Tis
gut.
Wouldn't want to cause ya any trouble.”

Ach,
if she only knew!
Marlena gave Orpha a warm smile.