The Love Letters (35 page)

“I think I purchased a bus ticket, though I don't recall the trip. There's a ticket stub in my shoulder bag.”

“Well, bless your heart,” Abigail said, shaking her head. “And somehow, you ended up out here.”

Boston nodded. “There must have been a taxicab somewhere, as well. I vaguely remember walking along serene country roads that reminded me of my childhood. When I stumbled upon an old stone mill, I tried the doors and found one open.” He glanced at Small Jay as if wanting assistance.

Allegro came bounding across the yard just then, wagging his tail as he made a beeline to Abigail, who leaned down and petted his head, clearly glad to see the border collie—as delighted as Allegro himself seemed to be.

Small Jay looked at his father and Roman nodded, encouraging him to go ahead. “My cat and I met Allegro first . . . he led us to Boston.” And to the best of his ability, he told Abigail all that had transpired.

Abigail remembered her manners and apologized to Ellie and Roman before introducing herself. “You must be Roman Bitner,” she said, extending her hand and thanking him for the phone call.

Ellie shook the woman's slight, well-manicured hand, too, and marveled at the attention Abigail gave to the children as she leaned down to speak to each one. “With all of my heart, I thank you for taking care of my husband,” she said, placing her right hand on her heart now. “I really don't need to know all the details of Boston's journey here. It's enough to know that he is alive and well.”

“We're just so glad we found you,” Ellie said.

“How might I reimburse you for your trouble?” Abigail asked.

Small Jay stepped forward. “Boston was never a bother.”

“That's right. And we hope you'll bring him back to visit us—both of yous must come again for a visit,” Ellie said, meaning it. “You've truly been a godsend.”

“What a lovely family you are,” Abigail said, her brown eyes smiling. Then she reached for Boston's hand and led him to the waiting car. “We mustn't keep you dear folk any longer.”

Ellie waved as Boston turned back once more, looking over kindly at Small Jay. “If my bow tie turns up, young man, it's yours to wear . . . perhaps to market.” Then he winked.

Small Jay seemed to understand, and when Boston held out his hand, Small Jay shook it firmly and seemed to grow two inches before their eyes.

“Take care of Miss Sassy, won't you?” Boston said.

They all took notice of pretty Sassafras sitting right next to Allegro, near Abigail's feet. The dog shifted and whined, restless.

“Thank you, each and every one,” Boston said finally, then
followed Abigail to the car, the strap of his satchel slung over his shoulder. Allegro got up and scampered behind them as Sassy meowed and complained.

The children offered more waves and good-byes, and Ellie noticed little Sally's lips tremble as she tried to be brave.

“I can hardly believe he's leavin' us,” Ellie said to Roman.

He moved closer to her. “She'll take
gut
care of Boston,
jah
?” When he smiled at her, Ellie thought he might actually wink.

“There's no doubt in my mind,” Ellie said, touched by her husband's nearness.

Once the driver had pulled out of the lane and onto the road, Roman stepped over and placed his hand on Small Jay's shoulder. “Boston has you to thank, son.” He paused and reached to shake Small Jay's hand. “We all do.”

Small Jay ducked his head.

“I sure could use such a
schmaert
worker in the stable tomorrow. What do ya say, Jake?”

Ellie could no longer suppress her tears. She watched Small Jay grin at his Dat and nod his head without speaking.

L
ater that evening, Roman held the shortest-ever family worship Ellie could recall. After the silent prayers, he sent the children off to bed. She could hear the girls chattering about how nice Abigail was to her “dearest darling” as they hurried up the stairs. Small Jay carried his cat up behind his sisters, trying to keep his distance from their giddiness.

When Ellie and Roman were alone in the front room, he suggested they go out and sit on the front porch swing. “All right with you?” he asked.

She wondered what was on his mind—they hadn't often taken the time to be alone together in recent years. When they sat down, Roman began to relive aloud that first afternoon the man from the mill had come into their lives. Ellie listened, enjoying his voice and the pleasant breezes.

Roman didn't talk for long, but neither was he gazing at the hayfields. His eyes were on her, and when he reached for her hand, it took her breath away.

“I'd like to think you'd take care of me thataway . . . like Abigail does Boston,” Roman said.

“
Jah.
” Ellie nodded. “The Lord willing and we live that long.” Suddenly she wanted to wrap her arms around his suntanned neck. But goodness, they were out on the
front
porch, of all things, behaving like they were youngsters.

“Ever think we'll see Boston again?” Roman asked.

“Hmm . . . I don't know. But Jake surely would enjoy that.”

“Jake's goin' to miss him.” Roman smiled. “We all will.”

Ellie leaned back and sighed. “Ya know, that Abigail's quite the letter writer.”

Roman chuckled. “Where'd that come from?”

“Let's just say I learned a lot from hearin' our son read to Boston.”

“I daresay his comin' was a
wunnerbaar-gut
thing.” Leaning over, Roman bussed her cheek. “And I've been thinkin' . . .”

A delightful shudder slipped down her back.

Roman told her about a discussion he'd had with his brother Jake in the past few days. “He seems older and wiser, and he's been kind enough to point out some of my ‘inconsistencies,' as he puts it.” Roman turned to look at her. “So after thinkin' some—and plenty of prayer—I've decided it makes no sense to allow an
Englischer
like Boston into our lives, and even treat him like family, while holdin' your sister Orpha and her family at arm's length.”

Ellie blinked, looking at him. “What do ya mean?”

“Well, just because we don't have full fellowship and agreement with certain surrounding church districts doesn't mean we can't be friendly and hospitable to one another.”

Had Roman's brother planted all this in her husband's thinking? Ellie found it remarkable and somewhat hard to take in, considering how adamant Roman had been about keeping to themselves.

“And those sewing classes of yours . . . They brought ya such joy . . . and to your students, too. I saw the young women talkin' and smiling as they came and went.” Roman wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I've thought it through, love. I want ya to feel free to be the teacher you are, Ellie. Won't ya start up those classes again?”

“Are ya certain 'bout this?” she asked, wanting to give him an out if he was looking for one. She didn't want to contact the girls again only to have Roman pull the rug out from under them.

“Never more so,” he said.

Ellie smiled through her tears and couldn't hold back any longer. Inching forward, she kissed him sweetly right then. He drew her even closer and kissed her back, and my, oh my, if anyone had happened along the road just then, Ellie wouldn't have been the wiser.

To Marlena it was a miracle that she didn't break down or disclose her deep disappointment over Nat to her grandmother as the days passed.

Their big garden burst forth an abundant yield, and Marlena poured herself into the harvesting, canning, and freezing of produce, ever grateful, like Mammi, for God's outpouring of provision and love. At each meal, they gave thanks for the summer showers and the sunshine, and then again, during family worship, when Mammi read the Bible aloud to her and little Angela Rose. Dawdi Tim had always said,
“It doesn't matter what
a farmer believes or where he goes to church. Truth
is, he's dependent upon the Lord of the harvest for plentiful sunshine and the necessary rainfall.”

For seven Wednesdays, Sarah Mast came to help Marlena stitch up the crazy quilt for Angela Rose. They had discussed various designs for the stitching on the backing, including the most popular—stars, baskets, impatiens flowers, and hearts—but Marlena had quickly decided on heart-shaped quilting.
The love I've gained from opening my heart to Angela Rose—and the Lord God
—more than compensates for my breakup with Nat. For surely
his ongoing silence means we're through. . . .

While Marlena's pent-up tears sometimes threatened during the day, she saved them for after she'd put Angela to bed. With God's help, she coped, did her chores, and took good care of her little niece, knowing that she was doing exactly what He expected of her.

By mid-August, her mother's frequent letters were a reminder that Marlena's return home was forthcoming. In a short time, they would give back Ellie's loaned baby items. Marlena also began to recognize that her first thoughts each morning were no longer of Nat Zimmerman and what she'd lost.

I've forgiven him,
she thought, realizing she hadn't yet mentioned the breakup to anyone, not wanting people to feel sorry for the loss of a beau who'd turned out to have priorities so unlike her own.

With the potato harvest fast approaching, Marlena decided to thoroughly clean Mammi's house—an early fall housecleaning. She washed everything from the top down like she and Mamma always did before hosting Preaching, back when they attended their former church. And while she beat her grandmother's rag rugs and swept and dusted, Marlena couldn't get the local New Order group out of her mind, still recalling the Scriptures the minister had read and referenced.
And their exceptional friendliness.
Because of that, she looked forward
at summer's end to returning to Mifflinburg to a similar type of preaching at her parents' new place of worship.
I won't be joining my childhood church with Nat,
she knew for sure.

She understood now that she'd primarily looked forward to joining the old church for Nat's sake.
Just so we could marry.

But now there was oh, so much more to her decision. Things had come to a head this summer with Mammi, and Marlena had realized she needed a faith that fed her soul . . . and traditions that helped answer the cry of her heart.

Whenever Marlena glanced at the crazy quilt hanging over the crib railing, she felt pleased. It contained something of both Luella and herself, two sisters at odds but linked by one darling baby girl. She was also struck again by the blended motifs of the Plain and the fancy. And she couldn't have completed it in less than two months if Sarah Mast hadn't helped.

Someday, Angela Rose will know that I used her Mamma's dress scraps.

And secretly, Marlena hoped that the extra time Gordon's parents had requested might just extend into a lifetime.