The Love Letters (4 page)

M
arlena awakened early the next morning, her first thoughts of Luella. She knelt at the bedside and offered a silent prayer, asking the Almighty to take care of her sister. With every ounce of trust she had, Marlena tried her best to believe in divine intervention.

Solemnly, she rose to dress, then brushed her waist-length hair. She wondered if taking care of her sister's baby might not be an opportunity to show love for Luella. And to help out—to the best of her ability—as a kind and compassionate Aendi to Angela Rose. Then, surely, once her sister had recovered, they could attempt to mend their fences and forgive each other, the way God intended sisters to do.

“It's long overdue,” she whispered as she threaded the twisted sides of her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck.

There was plenty to feel nervous about—an infant she'd had very little contact with was arriving today. And for just how long, she didn't know. Although Marlena had helped with her youngest sister, Rachel Ann, who was now eight
years old, Marlena didn't have much experience with babies to draw from like her many female cousins back home.

She did recall the one and only time she'd held tiny Angela Rose, something akin to looking into the face of a wee angel, the bundled weight in her arms ever so light. For that brief moment, she'd experienced the feeling of being responsible for another person—
“the dearest child,”
Luella had called her baby girl.

But Marlena also remembered being glad when her sister reached to take Angela back, relieved because she wasn't sure how to calm her if she should cry. Still, Marlena had blinked away tears that day at this new little girl added to their extended family.
“Dat always wanted there to be more of us
kids,”
she'd heard Luella say when they were growing up. But Mamma had been very ill during her pregnancy with Rachel Ann. The midwife had suggested, after the difficult birth, that frail little Rachel might have to be the last Wenger baby—something that was made certain a few days later, when Mamma had to undergo an emergency surgery.

Hurrying downstairs now, Marlena made a nice hot breakfast for her and Mammi—fried potatoes, dippy eggs, and slices of ham. Deep in thought, she said very little as they sat down at the table.

After the meal, Mammi softly read Psalm 24. “ ‘The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein. . . .' ” She bowed her head following the reading and prayed a blessing over the day, and over Luella, too. “O Lord in heaven, we give Luella into Thy loving, wise care. We don't know all the ins and outs of her suffering, but Thou dost, dear Lord. Please be all that Luella needs this day: body, mind, and spirit. Guide the hands of the doctors and nurses
in charge of her. We ask all of this in the name of Jesus, our Lord and wonderful Savior . . . and our Healer. Amen.”

Since her parents joined their new church, Marlena had grown accustomed to hearing prayers similar to this said aloud. That particular issue had been one of many that caused her father to butt heads with two of the ministerial brethren in the Old Order Amish church. But all of that was between her parents and God.

Speaking to the Almighty like a close friend seems downright haughty,
she thought.

———

When the breakfast dishes were washed and dried, Marlena rushed out to pick the day's batch of juicy red strawberries, hoping to beat the sun's intense heat. She'd slipped on her worn-out brown penny loafers to protect her bare feet, something she'd learned from Mammi Janice. Moving slowly through the patch, Marlena enjoyed the earthy smell, eager to see each new bright red appearance, cupping her hand around the vines as she went. A long garter snake slithered boldly past her, out of sight in a jiffy.

On the way back to the house, she carried the bucket brimful of glistening berries, glad to have finished the week's ironing so there was time for baking while her grandmother was in town buying a diaper pail, cloth diapers, and other baby toiletries in case her aunt happened to overlook bringing enough.

A fresh batch of shortcake is in order.
In fact, she could just imagine serving the dessert with the fresh strawberries—topped high with whipped cream—to Aunt Becky Wenger Blank, who must have recently learned to drive, since she was bringing Luella's baby on her own from Mifflinburg.

Will she stay the night, too?

While washing the berries, Marlena decided it was a good idea to freeze the excess, since there would be plenty more in the days to come for strawberry jam.
Lord willing.

Just as she'd finished putting the shortcake batter into the belly of the cookstove, the phone rang. Since Mammi was still away, Marlena hurried to reach for the black wall telephone. “Martin residence.”

“Marlena . . . hullo. It's Nat.”

Her heart did a leap, and she grinned into the receiver. “Oh, is it ever nice to hear from you!” She'd never heard Nat's voice this way, and she quite liked it.

He paused, then continued. “Listen, I called because I hoped my letter to you arrived all right.”

“
Jah.
”

“And . . . along with that, I wanted to say how sorry I am 'bout your sister.”

“You must've heard right quick.”

“Your father dropped by and asked mine for prayer,” he said, sounding more serious. “Our whole family's mighty concerned.”

“This means a lot.” She was truly taken by his consideration. “I believe she'll recover, don't you?”

“We hope and pray the Lord will raise her up.”

“As
a testimony to divine healing,”
her grandmother might have added. But that wasn't an emphasis of the Old Order church. No, the testimony of God's goodness and grace was to be seen in the lives of the People, set apart from the world in every way.

Her lip quivered at the thought of something happening to Luella. She simply could not bear it.

“I miss you, Marlena. I hope ya know.”

“Miss you, too.” She envisioned Nat holding the phone uneasily, there in his father's barn—this call was quite the exception. Then she went on to say that Luella's baby was coming to stay with her and Mammi. “Till Luella recovers.”

“Well, the baby will have plenty of love there, I'm sure.”

They said a few faltering good-byes, and it was all she could do to relinquish the telephone, staring at it in disbelief as she hung up.

Nat actually called!

Oh, if only the summer might fly by. She imagined what it might be like if he should come to visit, there in Brownstown.
Unlikely with his father's farm to tend.
So she couldn't get her hopes up.

Still, if nothing else, the notion of such a visit was heartening.
Nat would come to see me if he could. I just know it!

After her morning quilting class, Ellie worked in the kitchen with her older daughters and watched her son refill Sassy's bowl with fresh food. “I had seven quilters today,” she remarked to the girls, wishing Marlena might have been able to come. She understood, though, having heard from Janice Martin about the impending arrival of Marlena's baby niece.

Ten-year-old Julia quit sweeping in the corner of the kitchen. “Wish I could've gone to your class,” she said.

Ellie blew her middle daughter a kiss. “You can in due time, my dear.”

Through the kitchen windows, Ellie could see Roman loading the hand-built wooden crib and then the mattress into the back of the market wagon. He hadn't complained about loaning it to the widow for her great-grandbaby while the
baby's mother was hospitalized. Ellie shuddered at the young Mamma's plight and offered a silent prayer for a quick mending of limb and spirit. And most of all, for divine peace.

The back door slammed shut, and seven-year-old Sally flew into the kitchen, her brown eyes shining. “Dat needs some help,” she declared, ready to turn and run back out.

“Doing what?” asked Ellie with a glance at Small Jay.

“Just steadyin' the crib while he drives.”

Small Jay struggled to stand. “I could do
that
.”

Ellie sighed, concerned. “Wait just a moment while I talk to your father.”

“
Jah
 . . . all right!”

His enthusiasm pained her as she went outdoors and paused by the side of the market wagon. “Roman, is this something Small Jay might do?”

Her husband must have caught the tone in her voice. Their eyes met, and he nodded, albeit reluctantly, and gave a long, exasperated sigh. “I'm willin' to give it a try.”

She forced a smile. “I'll send him right out.”

Back in the house, she motioned for Sally to stay inside and help her sisters.

“What'd Dat say?” Small Jay asked, eyes alight.

“Go on, son. You can help with this chore.” She almost said “easy chore,” but bit her lip and watched him give Sassy a pat before he began to hobble across the kitchen toward the back door.
It'll be good for him,
she thought, following to the porch. There, she urged him to tell Marlena to simply ask if there was anything else she needed. “Even if it's just extra baby clothes or blankets.”

He looked
ferhoodled
. “She's gonna dress a fancy baby Plain?”

“
Nee
 . . . didn't mean that. I just want her to know there are
extra sleeping gowns and things over here.” She was thinking of the leftover items from Sally's baby days, on hand in case Ellie herself had more children.
Maybe someday.

Small Jay leaned hard on the porch railing, taking the steps carefully.
Always so cautious.
“You won't let Sassy loose, will ya, Mamma?”

“She'll be fine indoors. Now go an' help your father.” Ellie watched him head down the petunia-lined walkway until he rounded the corner and was out of sight.
Lord, watch over him,
she prayed, recalling the last time Small Jay had tried to help after Roman reluctantly allowed it, only to suffer exhortations and criticism. Small Jay's lower lip had trembled by the time he returned, fighting back tears yet determined to satisfy his nearly impossible-to-please father. Surprisingly, it hadn't dissuaded him from other attempts.

Ellie shook away the memory and returned to the kitchen, where Dorcas was preparing to make strawberry preserves while Julia and young Sally lined up the one-pint canning jars on the counter.

“Someone's havin' a baby?” asked Julia, her blue eyes blinking.

Quickly, Ellie explained their neighbors' pressing need. “The crib's for Marlena Wenger's niece.” More difficult was revealing the sad reason behind the infant's arrival. “We must pray for
Gott
's help for the little one's mother.”

“Oh, Mamma, maybe we can help babysit,” Dorcas said. Her blond hair was smooth and shiny clean in her low bun. Today, she wore the white kerchief she'd cheerfully ironed along with a pile of clothes yesterday.