[Finding Emma 01.5] Dear Jack
DEAR JACK
A Finding Emma Novella
by Steena Holmes
The following letters were written to Jack Henry
by his wife, Dottie Henry,
during the time period when Jack left to serve in the war.
They serve as part of her diary...
No historical facts are represented here.
Instead, what you will read is one woman’s
heartfelt letters to her husband while he is away.
© 2012, Steena Holmes
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This book contains material protected under
International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties.
Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
Dear Jack,
You just drove away and as I watch the dust trail behind you, it’s all I can do not to cry. I picture your hands clutched together on your lap while Doug tries to get your mind off of what you just did. You’re looking out the window, thinking about the things you left undone and wondering if I can keep everything together until you get back.
But what you’re really thinking is if you get back.
If
. Even when you told me to never say it, I know you’re thinking it. How can you expect me not to? I believe in
you
Jack. I trust
you
. I know that
you
will do everything possible to come back home to me. It’s
them
I don’t trust. The people you’ll be fighting against.
The whisper of your breath still caresses my cheek from when you held me close. What happens when I lose that feeling, when it only becomes a memory?
I know you asked me not to do this. Those last words you whispered to me were to stay strong, to keep the hope alive in my heart and to be there for Mary. I wanted you to say you loved me and you’d come home for me.
The dust trail following Doug’s car is gone now. You’ve really left me. Us. A part of me kept hoping you wouldn’t, but I knew deep down you would. Please come home, Jack. Please.
There’s not much I won’t do for you. I wish with all my heart you didn’t have to leave, but I know that for you, serving your country is your way of protecting your family — even when I disagree.
I can say that now. Here, in this journal that you bought for me. You asked me to write to you daily in this, to share with you my day, to tell you stories about Mary…I just hope you won’t regret it.
If there’s one thing you know about me, it’s that I’m honest to a fault. I love you Jack, but I am angry with you for leaving. I’ve never felt this angry with you.
If you don’t come home to me — I will never forgive you.
How’s that for my first letter to you?
~~~
I’m sorry. That was horrible. You don’t need to be reading that nonsense. I can’t promise never to write it but I will promise to keep my fears to myself. I’m scared that you are gone. I’m worried that you won’t come home to me.
Jack, you need to keep your promise to me, that you’ll come home safe and sound. I don’t care if you’re scarred or missing limbs — you just need to come home.
It’s late. The house is quiet and the reality of you not being here has finally set in. I’m not sure I can sleep tonight without you by my side. This will be our first night apart since we’ve been married. It doesn’t feel right.
I was able to keep busy this afternoon, working in the garden and baking a cake with Mary. She is such a strong little girl. She carried in some wood logs and placed them by the fireplace, just like you taught her. You would have been proud of her, Jack. We said a prayer for you tonight at dinner — actually, Mary was the one who prayed for you. I couldn’t get any words out past the lump in my throat. You should have seen her. Her eyes were clenched tight and her hands were folded beneath her chin. She asked that God’s strongest angels become your body guards.
Speaking of Mary, she’s up in our bed, curled tight on your side. I stayed with her while she cried herself to sleep. She’s too young to understand what this all means. How you are fighting to protect our country and our rights. She just knows that her daddy isn’t here, taking care of her. I’m not sure if I’ll be everything she needs.
I think that scares me the most. I know, you’re probably shocked to hear me admit that, waiting for lightning to strike. I’ll try Jack. I promise I’ll try to stay strong, to be what Mary needs me to be while you’re not here.
Just promise to come home, okay?
Love, forever yours.
Dear Jack,
You would have loved today. It was beautiful, full of sunshine and a gentle wind. If you were here, you’d be out in your front garden, nurturing those rose bushes as if they were your babies, then you’ll be grumbling at me to make you some homemade iced tea. But you’re not and I’m too afraid to touch your rose bushes. I did water them and they look fine. There are a few buds that look promising.
Mary and I spent the day soaking up the sun. First, we worked in the garden, pulling weeds and making sure the tender shoots were doing okay. Then, instead of heading back into the house for more housework, I thought about what you would do if you were here. You always spent time playing with Mary, teaching her things, making her smile when you weren’t working hard on fixing the lawn mower or building another doll house to sell. You never seem to worry about getting your things done when Mary’s around. She’s always been your number one priority. I’m not like that, able to switch off the part of me that is always thinking about what needs to be done, but I’ll try to be. So, we played on the swing you put up for her for what must have been hours. You should have heard her, Jack. Her laughter was beautiful.
Just when I thought my arms would fall off from pushing her for so long, Doug’s vehicle drove down our driveway. Mary was so excited, she jumped off the swing and ran towards the passenger side of the truck. She thought you were home. I wish you were.
It was a good thing he came bearing gifts. Mary lit up like a christmas tree once she saw the bag he pulled out. He brought her a new bouncing ball, skip rope and crayons. You would have thought he brought her a puppy the way she squealed. Jack, if he ever brings us a puppy and you’re not here, just know that one day when you do come home, I may just smother you in your sleep. Taking care of a dog right now is not something I want to do. Do you hear me? No, of course you don’t. But I warned Doug and by the look in his eye, I wouldn’t put it past him that he’d thought about it.
Now, I know he said he only came by to
‘check in on us’
, but you asked him to take care of us, didn’t you? I can think of two reasons why you would do so.
1. For your own peace of mind. You needed to know that the person you trusted the most was taking care of your family when you couldn’t.
2. To give him something to do since he couldn’t join you.
I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. It’s nice to have a man around the house. All he needs to do is fall asleep on the front porch while I’m telling him about my day and I’d think he was you. I miss that, actually…you, being here.
In all honesty, it feels…odd…to have Doug come out here and not have you around. You are his friend, not mine. I’m just the wife of his best friend who makes sure he’s always fed. It was awkward for a few moments. I think we both realized it at the same time, but then Mary threw her new ball at him and forgot to warn him. I gotta say, she’s got a good arm. You taught her well. Good thing the ball was plastic, otherwise she would have broken his nose.
He’s a good man. I’m not sure why he’s never married. In all the years I’ve known him, there’s never really been a woman in his life — that I’ve known of. I imagine you’re shaking your head at me, aren’t you. You probably know all his deep and dark secrets. Not that I want to know them. I don’t. But maybe he knows yours, the ones you won’t tell me about. The ones that a wife should know. Don’t bother denying it, Jack. I know you better than you think. Don’t for a moment believe you’ve fooled me. I’ve seen those shadows in your eyes when you’ve had a little too much to drink.
Anyways, Doug stayed for dinner. He sat in your place, I hope that was okay. Mary set the table and she led him there before I could stop her. You know, she always sets a plate at your chair, the same as I would do if you were working late or out in your shed and lost track of time. I don’t dissuade her; it’s kind of nice to pretend that you will be home soon. I didn’t make anything special, just shepherd’s pie, but the man seemed starving. Like normal. So I sent him home with the leftovers. It’s the least I could do. But why is it I have a feeling I’ll be seeing more of him than normal?
I love you Jack.
Jack,
There was a reason I never wanted to be a widow, a single parent, solely responsible for raising our daughter. I need you home and I need you home now.
Notice I didn’t start this letter off with
Dear
? Right now I have less than loving feelings towards you. Today was not a good day, Jack. Not a good day at all.
It started with Mary waking up on the wrong side of the bed. Or maybe it started with me not having much sleep since all Mary could do was cry last night. Yes, cry. All. Night. Long. No, I’m not being overly dramatic, trust me on this. She hasn’t been feeling well, just a summer cold, but she’s only a little thing and she doesn’t handle being sick very well. Reminds me of someone else I know. Her whole body ached so I made a nice warm bath for her, but it didn’t seem to help much. I swear she’s going through a growth spurt at the same time, I had to rub her legs for hours just to help ease the aching. The warm compress I made only worked for so long. I even tried that trick of yours, placing a hot bowl of water beneath the bed, but it didn’t work.
It only works when Daddy puts it there. Daddy has the magic touch. Daddy only knows how to make me feel better. I want my Daddy.
Honestly, I love you Jack. I love Mary. But I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. You were the one to always comfort her when she was sick. You were the one she wanted, not me. Even now, when you’re not here, you’re the one she wants. Right now, she’s calling for you. It’s almost ten o’clock at night, she should be sound asleep but she fights it and is fighting me. I had to finally leave her side and come down here to make a cup of tea. Will she ever stop crying? I hope so. I can feel your displeasure with me. I know, I know…suck it up buttercup, right? Life isn’t always going the way we planned, but it’s how we handle it that matters. All right, Jack. I hear you. Maybe another warm bath will help her fall asleep…
~~~
Mary is in bed now, fast asleep. Finally. The warm bath seemed to help. We also wrote you a little story. I’ll post it tomorrow in the mail for you. I’m sure you’d love to receive it. When I suggested to Mary that we write stories every week for you, she calmed down. Why didn’t I think of this earlier?
This hasn’t been all that easy for me. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m just complaining. Well, I’m not really all that sorry, because I am complaining. But you’re the only one who will listen — you really don’t have a choice. Trying to be both mother and father, homemaker and provider — it’s all tiresome.
I was so tired today that I burned the bread I made, dropped our last container of milk all over the kitchen floor and threatened Mary within an inch of her life if she didn’t stop crying.
I’m not the best mother out there. I’ll be the first to admit that. But yelling at her while she’s not feeling well? I felt horrible. It reminded me of my own mother. How hard and unyielding she was. I’m turning into my mother and I hate it. Jack, I’m not as strong as you thought I was. I’m sorry.
Mary is finally asleep. I cuddled with her and read her a story tonight. She’s wearing one of your shirts to bed, it seemed to help calm her down. She’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep.
A cheque arrived today. Thank you for having a portion sent home. I hope you made arrangements to keep some with you. I know things aren’t a bed of roses there. The little bit you sent home is enough to help out. Please don’t worry about us, you know we are fine, especially compared to most people. I was able to sell another quilt, and I have orders for a few more. I heard today on the radio that the church in Kinrich is looking for donations for the upcoming winter months. I have all that wool boxed up in the attic; I could put my knitting skills to use and make some hats and mittens to keep me occupied in the evenings when Mary is in bed.
Goodnight my love. Sweet dreams!
