Lonely In Longtree (11 page)

Fourteen

Yea, all of you be subject one to another,

and be clothed with humility: for God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble.

I Peter 5:5

“Crown Him with many crowns, the Lamb upon His throne.” Marva sang along with the rest of the congregation while her fingers played the closing hymn. As soon as it ended, she picked up her book and her heavy shawl.

“You played the piano beautifully today, Marva. Thank you, as always, for serving so willingly. My hands are too stiff these days for me to do much playing, and Beulah and Myles have no time.”

Marva looked into Violet Watson's smiling blue eyes and felt cheered. “I enjoy it, although I sometimes feel self-conscious. Myles plays so much better than I do.”

Beulah's mother brushed that aside. “You do very well at accompanying while the congregation sings. Myles plays better than any of us, but if we depended on him for our music these days, we'd be in trouble. Beulah needs him to keep those boys in line during church services.” Violet shook her head in mock despair, though evidently proud of her grandchildren.

Marva could think of nothing more to say. At one time she would have babbled on without thinking, but more often these days she found herself withdrawing into silence. She simply smiled and fell into step with the older woman as they exited the small church building.

Violet Fairfield Watson had remarried after her first husband's death, providing her three children, Beulah, Eunice, and Sam, with a loving stepfather. Obadiah and Violet Watson now had three sons of their own, all named for Old Testament prophets. Marva could never keep their names straight.

Obadiah Watson had served a long prison term for bank robbery, Marva recalled. But he had since been cleared of the crime, and the true criminal's identity had been discovered. Lucky, on the other hand, admitted that he had deserved
worse
than a prison sentence for his crimes.

Violet touched her arm. “Are you coming to Beulah's house for fellowship supper today? The pastor's family is joining us. ”

“Yes, I believe we're planning to come.”

❧

The crowd at the Van Huysen farmhouse included the
Spinellis, an Italian family who owned and operated the town's bakery, and the pastor and his large family. Children of all ages and sizes swarmed the premises inside and out, frequently slamming doors.

Beulah had baked a ham, and all the guests had brought food to share. The children filled their plates and sat outside on the porch chairs and steps. The adults clustered inside to partake of their meal, laughing and chatting.

Marva decided to fill her usual role and keep an eye on the children.

“Do you mind if I join you out here?” Caroline Schoengard let the screen door close behind herself.

“Please do. There's plenty of room.” Marva smiled at the older woman.

Caroline pulled up another rocking chair beside her. “Since my incorrigible twins tend to start the most conflicts, I figure I'd better be responsible and prevent serious injuries, if possible.”

“Are all of your children here today?”

“No, Scott, our oldest, is visiting his young lady friend over in Bolger.”

Caroline nibbled at her food, but Marva sensed a question building. Sure enough, after setting down her fork, the pastor's wife asked, “So, did you enjoy our holiday in the Northwoods?”

“Yes, very much. I know my parents did as well. How about your family?”

“They all had the time of their lives. Even the girls enjoyed themselves. I believe we will attempt to make the trip again next year. I know it did my husband good to relax for a time. I worry about his health. His heart troubles him, you know.”

“I hadn't realized that. I'm sorry to hear it,” Marva said. “It is difficult for me to imagine Rev. Schoengard ill. He is always so vigorous.”

“Well, we're all getting on in years.”

Several of the larger boys started tossing a ball around and arguing among themselves. The little ones ran off behind the house to play. Two girls ran toward the barns, probably in search of kittens.

Marva pushed with her toes to rock her chair and enjoyed the temporary peace. It was a fine day with the crisp edge of autumn adding spice to the air. Some of the maples along the drive held touches of red.

The football game broke into shouting and accusations. Caroline rose and approached the porch rail. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted for the boys to quiet down and behave like humans instead of beasts.

All those big boys wilted into submission, and their game resumed peacefully.

Caroline sat back down and gave Marva a self-conscious smile. “I know I'm loud, but I've had to learn to project my voice to make myself heard.”

“I'm impressed. All those large beings intimidate me,” Marva confessed. “But I suppose a mother can't let herself be intimidated by her own sons.”

Caroline laughed. Sobering, she gave Marva another side-long glance. A nosy question was coming, and soon. What it would be, Marva could only guess.

“May I ask you a rather personal question?” Caroline asked. “I've been longing to ask it for a long time now. You'll probably think I'm silly, but. . .well, I'm not the only person who has wondered. Gossip is a sin, so I thought I would rather ask you directly than discuss the matter with anyone else.”

“What is it?”

“You'll probably think I'm silly to ask, but. . .” Caroline sucked in a quick breath and let it out in a gust. “Awhile back—oh, many months ago—I saw an ad in the paper.”

Oh, no.

Caroline chuckled and shook her head. “At first I thought it was a sales gimmick—you know how newspapers can be. But then. . .well. . . Oh, I'm messing this all up. You see, it was an advertisement from a single woman looking for a husband. My husband laughed about it at the time and teased that his daughters might try the same thing someday if it worked for this woman. None of us thought anything would come of it, but then there came an answer from a man.”

She suddenly stopped and gave Marva a close look. “Have you seen the letters? Do you know what I'm talking about?”

“Yes, I've seen them.”

“Oh, good. I thought you must have. People have talked about it off and on for a long time, but now more than ever. Have you seen the latest letter?”

“The one in which the man confesses his past? The prison sentence and all?”

Caroline nodded. “Isn't that heartrending? I've seen no answer from the woman yet. All of us are afraid she will turn him away now. One can hardly blame her, but still. . .”

Marva merely nodded. “What was it you wished to ask me?”

Caroline met her gaze for an instant, then laughed and shook her head. “You must think I'm crazy, but. . .many people in town believe that you are the woman who writes those letters. You're a Christian woman, and you live with your elderly parents on a farm—you fit her description exactly!”

Marva lowered her chin. “I can think of several other women who fit that description. Two or three even at our church.”

“You're right, of course. . .but, oh well, it would have been so romantic! You're beautiful, so everyone immediately thought of how blessed that poor, lonely man would be to marry a woman like you. I mean, most of the other spinsters in this area aren't. . .well, they just aren't like you.”

“Thank you. I had no idea. . . .”

Caroline chuckled. “You look years younger than any other woman your age, married or single. I think half the married women in the church are jealous of you. I know I am sometimes. By the time I was your age, I had lost my figure and my complexion.”

“You were married with several children. That makes a difference.”

“Perhaps. No one can understand why you've never married, Marva. Most people think you're too particular, but I disagree. Better for a woman to remain single than to marry in haste. The apostle Paul would uphold your position. I'll confess that David and I thought you and Monte Van Huysen made a striking couple, while we were up north, you know.”

“Did you?” Marva smiled, hoping to appear amused by the notion.

“And when that most recent note appeared in the paper. . . well, one can't help adding two and two. Everyone acquainted with the Van Huysens knows the tragic story of Virginia's lost grandson, the prodigal who never got the chance to return. My fertile imagination immediately sprouted the notion that Monte must be Lucky in Lakeland. He's the right age, he owns a lodge on a lake, and the letters sound like him.”

Caroline's anxious eyes studied Marva's face. “You undoubtedly think I'm crazy, coming up with this incredible romance for you. Once again, I appear to have added two and two incorrectly. Dave constantly tells me I must stop speculating about people and their business. I know he's right, but I can't seem to help myself.”

Marva tried to end the conversation on a noncommittal note, but Caroline's words haunted her.

❧

Saturday night, Marva examined her reflection in her dressing table mirror, seeing the fine lines around her eyes and mouth, noting the deeper lines in her white neck. Silver blended almost unnoticeably with the gold of her hair. Deep blue eyes were her best feature by far. Although she had always worked to protect her complexion from the hot sun, her hands showed definite signs of wear and tear. Her figure, though far from ideal, was better now than it had been fifteen years earlier, since she no longer baked and ate many pastries and cakes, having long since given up on capturing a man with her cooking skills.

Would a man truly feel blessed to have her as his wife? Why now, and not twenty years ago? Gazing into her reflected eyes, she recognized the changes God had worked on her heart over the past few months. Bitterness no longer lingered at the corners of her lips. Her expression held sorrow, mostly over the tangled results of her own headstrong behavior, yet hope brightened her eyes.

After church the next morning, she cornered the pastor's busy wife. “Caroline, you should be a sleuth,” she said quietly.

Caroline stared at her blankly for a moment—then comprehension dawned. She clapped one hand over her mouth. Her shoulders began to shake. Giving up, she threw back her head and laughed heartily. “And you should be an actress! Marva Obermeier, you had me entirely convinced that I'd dived down the wrong rabbit hole.” Eyes glowing, she gripped Marva's arm and whispered, “How right was I? Did you write those letters? Is Monte the man?”

“I wrote the Lonely letters, but I'm not sure about Monte. I need to answer Lucky's letter in a way only Monte could understand. I've been trying to work up enough courage. I've been thinking how to do it. Caroline, does everyone think I'm crazy? I'm so ashamed, so embarrassed for ever writing that first ad!”

“Nonsense.” Caroline patted Marva's arm. “Everyone I've heard talking about the matter thinks it's the most romantic story they've ever heard. And if it should turn out to be Monte. . . Even Dave noticed the way Monte watched you while we were at his lodge. The entire company was buzzing about it.”

“Buzzing.” Marva repeated the word, her hands trembling. “Oh, Caroline, please pray for me. I don't want to do anything foolish again, trying to force God's hand.”

“No one can force God's hand,” Caroline said firmly. “Be honest and true, and let Him handle the consequences.” Her eyes began to twinkle again. “And tell me
every detail
!”

❧

Monte awaited his turn in the barber shop, listening with part of his brain to the other men discuss fishing and hunting successes and failures, but mostly pondering the fact that Lonely in Longtree had not yet replied to his confession.

In all his consideration of her possible responses, it had never entered his mind that she would refuse to answer at all. He wanted to believe that she was simply taking great pains with her response. But, then again, her taking such great pains would indicate a kind yet negative response. He sighed and folded his arms over his chest.

Whenever he worked up enough courage to pick up his mail today, he would probably find the latest edition of the Longtree paper. It might contain Marva's reply; it might not. Dread of yet another disappointment caused him to procrastinate.

He had promised Myles a visit during the autumn or early winter. A visit to Myles would entail attendance at his church, where an encounter with Marva was nearly inevitable.

If Marva turned him down, if she could not bear the shame of his past, he would prefer never to see her again, rather than torture himself with the unattainable. He might be obliged to explain this fact to his little brother, rather than risk wounding Myles and Beulah by breaking his promise with no explanation.

“Van Huysen, you're next.” The barber waved him over.

❧

A short time later, Monte rode Petunia north on the Woodruff Road, his sober gaze fixed on nothingness. His saddlebags contained the day's mail, including a newspaper that he had not yet opened. He sensed it there behind him, waiting.

The autumn days were growing short and cold. Wind rippled Petunia's mane and tried to steal Monte's hat. He clapped it down more firmly on his head, then wriggled his fingers in his thick gloves. He and Hardy and the lodge staff had been busily storing boats and equipment for the long winter, sealing up the cabins and the lodge, and otherwise preparing for hibernation. Although Monte looked forward to free time for his writing, he dreaded months of loneliness.