The Letters (37 page)

She had come here on a whim and stayed for over a month! She took her suitcase out to her car and put it in the trunk. Her heart was suddenly too full for words as she let her gaze roam lovingly over the Inn at Eagle Hill: over the lofty barn and the large white clapboard house tucked against the hill. The creek that wove like a ribbon from the hill down to the road. The green pasture that held that silly goat and four sheep.

“Rose just told me. She said you’re leaving today.”

Delia turned to find Bethany watching her. “What you have here, Bethany, it’s so special. So rare.” Delia’s gaze lingered on Bethany a moment and then shifted to the end of the driveway, where Sammy and Luke sat behind a cardboard table. “It’s days like this that are worth the remembering. A day like this can stay with you, can settle down to live on in your soul forever.”

“Maybe you should think about buying a farm.”

Delia turned to her. “A farm? I didn’t mean the land—though it is a beautiful property. I meant—” she lifted her palm and made a wide sweeping arc—“I meant your family. Your neighbors. Your church and community. Most people look for this their entire life and never find it. It’s so . . . special. Never, ever let it go.”

Her words fell into an empty silence.

When Delia spun around to look at Bethany, she was surprised to see the girl’s eyes had filled with tears. Delia took a step toward Bethany, then another. She reached out her hand to touch her shoulder.

“Why, Bethany, whatever is wrong? Did I say something to upset you?”

Bethany covered her face with her hands, but just for a moment. “Don’t mind me. I’m just having an emotional day.” Her voice was shaky as she backed up a few steps. “I’m glad we met, Mrs. Stoltz.” She turned and ran to the farmhouse.

Puzzled, Delia watched until she disappeared into the house. She felt as if she had gotten to know Bethany. Whenever Bethany had brought breakfast to the basement, she would linger for a chat. Delia had even taught her how to make tea the right way—real English steeped tea. But the girl sounded as if she thought they’d never see each other again.

She saw Galen lead a horse from the paddock to the barn and walked over to say goodbye to him. She found him in his workshop, starting to repair a harness. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

He stopped unbuckling the harness and gave his hat brim a tug. “Godspeed to you.”

She hesitated, wanting to say more. In the hospital, she couldn’t help but notice the way Galen and Rose interacted. There were times when Rose let her eyes linger on his face in a way that made Delia wonder if her feelings for Galen were quite as platonic as she claimed. Delia had asked her once if she thought she would ever love again, and Rose had seemed surprised by the question. “I never thought of it,” she had told her. Delia understood why, but never was a very
long time. Rose was a lovely young woman and Galen was a very special, very kind, very patient man. The type of man who would deserve someone like Rose.

Delia weighed her thoughts back and forth as Galen grew increasingly uncomfortable. He wanted to get back to work. Finally, Delia decided to just say what was on her mind. “I hope you don’t mind if I speak in a forthright manner.”

Galen’s eyebrows lifted.

“I hope you will rouse yourself and propose to Rose. Soon.”

Galen’s eyes went wide with astonishment.

“You must not be a sissy about this.”

He cleared his throat. “A sissy?”

“Galen, you love Rose. You know it. I know it. Rose is the one who doesn’t know it. There. I’ve said what I’ve come to say.”

His gaze drifted around the workshop, alighting everywhere but on her. “It’s not quite that easy. I’ve tried. She’s said no.”

“You’ll have to keep on trying.”

“She doesn’t see me that way. I’m just a friend to her. A neighbor.”

“You can change that. She deserves someone like you.”

He looked very unsure. “I don’t know . . . what else to do.”

“Well, for starters, did you happen to know that she wants a porch swing?”

Delia found Mim waiting patiently by her car with a wriggling puppy in her arms. “Why, Mim, what’s this?”

“Mom said you’re leaving today.” She held the puppy out
to Delia. “I brought you something. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to.”

Delia took a step toward her. The puppy was yellow, with long ears, curly hair, and a small, black button nose.

“Oh Mim! He’s adorable.” She took the puppy from Mim’s arms and cradled it in her own. The puppy looked up at her with big brown, liquid eyes that seemed to beg for a home.

“Puppies are nothing but trouble,” Mim warned. “That’s a fact. I’ll take him if you don’t want him.”

Delia smiled up at Mim. “What kind of dog is he?”

“A male, one of Chase’s puppies. Apparently Chase had paid a call to a certain female yellow lab over at Windmill Farm. Fern Lapp’s dog. She’s named Daisy. Chase is quite taken with Daisy. He has good taste—she’s a pretty girl. This puppy is definitely not purebred, so if that matters—”

“If he’s part of Chase, it doesn’t matter to me at all.”

Mim reached over and scratched the puppy’s ears. “I picked him out myself. He seemed like the calmest and smartest of the litter. He hasn’t had his shots yet.”

“My son can take care of that.”

Mim went to the house and brought back dog food, a water bowl, and a towel for a bed. “This will take care of you for a while.”

“I’ve never had a dog,” Delia said, grinning as the little puppy sniffed around the car.

“Never? I can’t remember ever not having a dog. Seems like everyone needs a good dog.”

“I already love him. Thank you, Mim.”

“You’ll have to choose a name for him.”

The puppy wandered around the yard, sniffing, running,
stopping, then bolted after a butterfly. “Maybe I’ll name him
Miracula fieri hic
and call him Micky for short. To remember the miracle of being here.”

Mim’s face lit with a smile. She gazed at the puppy. “Hope you’ll still feel that way after you’ve had him for a few days.”

22

M
im, Luke, and Sammy arrived at Hank Lapp’s birthday party at Windmill Farm just as a softball game got under way on the front lawn. Galen dropped them off so they could join their friends, then he went to fetch the sisters at the Sisters’ House. Bethany had walked over earlier, to help set up for the party, she said, and Mim was glad she had left the house because her sister was in a weird mood today. Teary one minute, snapping at Luke and Sammy in the next minute, humming with happiness the next.

Mim happened to notice that Danny Riehl was at bat, so she hurried to the team her brothers were on. She and Sammy were sent to the outfield. Luke was sent to cover first base. Jimmy Fisher was pitching. Hank Lapp was umpire. He was always the umpire. He said it was because his arthritis was acting up, but Galen said it was mainly because he had the loudest voice of anyone. Jimmy lobbed a ball to Danny and he hit it sailing, sailing, sailing, right to Sammy. The ball dropped out of his mitt and Luke let out a large groan. Then Sammy overthrew it to Luke when he should have thrown it to second base. By the time Luke retrieved the ball from
the BBQ pit, Danny had made a home run. Luke glared at Sammy. That boy Luke, Mim decided, was getting too high and mighty.

But then Mim watched Sammy miss every ball that came his way, even ones where he didn’t have to move an inch. Unexpected tears stung her eyes. He needed a father.

When it was time for dinner, Mim helped the women serve the food out on the picnic benches. She was filling glasses with iced tea when she spotted Galen King seated next to Jimmy Fisher. She reached around Galen for his glass and took her time filling it. “You should, you know,” she whispered as she set his glass next to him, “teach Sammy how to catch a fly ball.”

Surprised, Galen looked up. Before he could speak, she was gone.

One hour to go. Jake had said he would pick Bethany up at eight at the end of the driveway—just as it grew dark. She was feeling feverish inside, all shaky and sweat-sticky and cold. And she kept forgetting to breathe.
I must do this. I must.
If she didn’t go with him tonight, she would lose Jake forever.

At seven thirty, she walked nervously around the yard, taking in the sight of her brothers and her sister, forcing it to her memory. How tall would her brothers be the next time she saw them? What about Mim? She was just on the threshold of becoming a woman.

Before she left for the party tonight, she had tucked a letter under each person’s pillow, telling them she loved them and always would. Her grandmother was sleeping when she had to go, which was a relief. She knew she would burst into
tears if she tried to say goodbye face-to-face. She slipped in and kissed her bandaged forehead.

She watched the five ancient sisters from the Sisters’ House, sitting in lawn chairs on the grass, like little sparrows on a telephone pole. She had only worked for them one week, but she was growing fond of their quirky ways. She had left a letter for them under Rose’s pillow, explaining that something important had come up. She hoped Jimmy Fisher would find someone special to work for them.

She saw Jimmy serve a volleyball—what was it about the sight of him that made her start to grin, even when he wasn’t trying to be funny? There was just something about him . . .

I must do this. I must.

Fighting tears, she slipped quietly down the driveway, retrieving the ledgers she’d hidden behind a fence post. She tucked them under her apron and waited for Jake.

While she waited in the dark, a panic gripped her chest so tightly that she thought her heart had stopped beating.

Jimmy saw Bethany head toward the road and he tossed the volleyball to Sammy, who missed it. That boy needed a little work. He swooped up the volleyball, delivered it into Sammy’s hands, tapped him on the head, and hurried after Bethany. What was she doing, heading down that way in the dark? She had seemed a little strange tonight—quiet and sad and nervous—and he thought she might be feeling poorly. He saw her about halfway down the driveway, arms crossed against her middle like she had a stomachache.

“Bethany?”