[Finding Emma 01.5] Dear Jack (2 page)

Dear Jack,

Your letters came today. All five of them. The last letter is dated over a month ago and it looks like it was dropped in a puddle and left there for a few days. Your writing is hard to read but I think I got the most of it. Mary’s letter was fine though; I think the small fabric bookmark helped to protect it. She is afraid to use that bookmark, by the way. She thinks she’s going to lose it. I suggested we could frame it and put it beside her bed.

It’s hard to believe it’s been over two months since you left. So much has happened, and at the same time, nothing has happened. Nothing, compared to you.

I can’t imagine sleeping in barracks with all those other men. The lack of privacy in almost every area of life, that is not something I can do. Are you getting enough to eat and drink? The last thing we need is for you to be sick. Please take care of yourself.

I’ll take my time reading your letters, that way they’ll last. I’ll save them until the house is quiet and Mary is up in bed, when I miss you the most. The evenings are long and hard to get through. I knew I would miss you, but not this much. I’ve never wanted to be a needy wife, but I’m not too ashamed to admit that I need you Jack. I need your touch, your laughter, your warmth. It’s colder at nights now and I find I’m wearing my wool leggings beneath my flannel nightgown at nights. Soon, I’ll need to have the heat on low. See — I remembered your words about the pipes freezing. I’m so thankful that we decided to upgrade the old farmhouse all those years ago with the heating. How my parents managed to get by with only the fireplace as their heating source, I’ll never know.

Doug is becoming a regular fixture around here. I keep a list now on the table by the back door of all the little chores I need done. He seems lost without you and if I can help him keep busy, then so be it. There are a few other families in the area now where the husbands have left to join the war. The Johnston farm is up for sale. I’m not sure if you heard or not, but Charlotte got word that Michael won’t be coming home. She received a letter. A letter, Jack. I dreaded opening up the mailbox today to find a letter like the one she received. I thought that someone would have visited her personally or something…anything has to be better than getting a cold letter in the mail informing you that the one man you depended upon would never be coming home because he believed in a country that couldn’t even deliver the news in person.

Anyways, I’ve sent Doug over there and to a few other homes where the women have a list of items they need help with. Keeps his hands busy and his mind off of what is happening to you over there. Who knows, maybe he’ll find love in one of those homes. I hope so. He deserves it.

Love you, Dottie.

Jack,

Doug stopped by just as Mary and I were sitting down to eat. I almost laughed when he knocked on the door. It reminded me of all those times when you would be working out in that rusty old barn of yours fixing one of your toys and it was time for dinner. I never needed to call you or send Mary out to get you, you always knew right when to show up — when the food was on the table.

Mary lights up whenever he’s around. It’s a good thing he’s her godfather. It’s not that she sees him as a replacement for you, but that he reminds her so much of you. It was nice to have him play with her after dinner while I cleaned up. Most nights, things are quiet around the house. Mary and I will sit and read a story together, she’ll have a bath and then right before bed she works on coloring some pictures. Like the one included. She spent a few days on that picture. According to her, it’s a tree house that you are going to build for her when you get home. She’d really like to have it by her birthday, if that will work for you.

Having Doug here tonight made me realize just how much I miss the laughter and the shouting and the commotion when you’re home. It’s like the house is an empty shell without you.

~~~

Don’t get mad, but I made Doug share some stories with Mary, stories I hadn’t even heard. Why didn’t you ever tell me about the time you tried to get a cat out from under your father’s shed only to realize it was a skunk? I still chuckle when I hear it. I can picture you trying to show off to…was it Marybelle or Susie…by getting a stuck kitten. I remember you from when we were little. You were all legs and arms, a stick compared to most of the other farm boys. I can see you trying to worm your way beneath that shed, coaxing the kitten to come out with sweet words you thought the girls wanted to hear. Oh Jack, the way Doug told the story, of when that skunk sprayed you, I had tears in my eyes. I still do, just thinking about it. Is that where your hatred for tomato juice came from? I wonder why you never told me?

I try not to think of what you are doing right now. While I’m sitting here, sharing my day with you, are you deep in the trenches? Are you having to dodge enemy fire or are you shivering in the cold wishing you were home? If I could, I’d make sure you were never cold again. Never.

I love you Jack. Come home soon.

Happy Christmas Eve, Jack.

The Christmas tree is decorated and the candles are burning in the window. This time they hold an extra special meaning. Will they help lead you home, bring you back to your family in time for Christmas?

Mary and I decided to start a new tradition tonight. It’s pretty lonely just the two of us. Doug was going to come by, but I convinced him to spend it with Charlotte tonight. She’s become sweet on him and he deserves to be happy. He’s coming over tomorrow instead, made a fuss when he thought he wouldn’t see us tonight, something about being with family and all.

The tradition? I know you’re probably wondering what and why. Starting memories is always good, and without you here, we need all the good we can get. Well, I let Mary open a gift early. No — I’m not spoiling her, far from it. I made her open the new pyjama’s I bought her. You should have seen the look on her face when she unwrapped her gift. Oh Jack, I could almost hear your laughter as she looked up at me in disgust. But there was a surprise hidden in one of the pant legs — a new picture book. Her eyes lit up and she scampered off to bed pretty quick too when I said we would read it before bed.

Want to know what I want for Christmas this year?

You.

I hope where ever you are that you are safe and well.

I love you Jack.

~~~

Merry Christmas Daddy!

(This is a letter from Mary to you …she talks faster than I can write.)

Daddy, it’s Christmas and we have a tree and Santa Clause came and brought me presents, even though the war is on and the bad soldiers are keeping you from being here. Santa has magic and I hoped he would bring you home, but Mommy says his magic is only for toys.

Daddy, I think we need to change Santa’s mind.

Mommy loves you (
I really do
, Jack) and Uncle Doug loves you and I love you. Thank you for the baby doll. Mommy says she knew you would want me to take care of her the moment she saw her in the store. She’s so pretty, Daddy. She has yellow hair and blue eyes just like me. Mommy says I have to give her a name. What do you think I should call her? Mommy says I have to draw you a picture of her so you can know what she looks like. But she looks like me. How about Emily? That’s a pretty name right?

Our tree is so pretty this year. Mommy put ribbon on the tree and I got to pick it out. Uncle Doug wanted me to pick red and gave me a lollipop when I did. You would like it Daddy. It’s a big tree, almost as big as Mommy (
Jack, it’s taller than I am
) and I made lots of ornaments for the tree. Maybe next year you could help me make more.

I miss you Daddy and I want you to come home. You’ve been gone too long and it’s not fair anymore. Do you have a tree there, Daddy? Did Santa come to see you and give you the present I asked him to give you? (
She only wanted one gift and that was for you this year.
) I won’t tell you what I asked for ‘cause it’s a secret between me and Santa, but if you found new slippers by the tree then they are from me. (
So much for not telling you. I have them here for you Jack. You can’t laugh when you see them though — Mary picked them out.
)

Daddy, Mommy says that it’s time for bed. Uncle Doug is here and promised to tuck me in tonight and read a story to me. But I wish it was you. Can you come home soon please?

I love you forever and ever and ever (
so do I
).

Your bestest daughter in the whole world.

Me.

Dear Jack,

Today, of all days, I need you the most (sometimes I hate writing that. It makes me look so weak, as if I’m not strong enough to do this on my own. And we both know that’s not true. But you’re the only one who has been my rock and today, I really do need your strength).

Ronald is dead.

How is it possible that I’m the only one left now in my family?

Mary-Ellen called just as I was putting Mary to bed. When I heard her voice on the other end of the phone, so cold and distant, I knew something was wrong. I knew right away something was wrong, but I thought it was Ronald Jr. Seems Ronald was in the field today and something spooked the cows. He was trampled to death. Mary-Ellen found him. He didn’t make it in for supper so she went looking.

Mary is fast asleep in our bed and I’m sitting at the kitchen table. I want to cry, to mourn for Ronald, for my younger brother, but I feel like I’m a well dried up. I’m afraid Jack. Afraid to cry. What if I don’t stop? I spoke to Ronald yesterday, told him to bring Mary-Ellen and Junior over for dinner on Sunday. I just talked with my brother, told him I loved him. Thank God those were my last words to him, not like with Father when he died.

I wish you were here. To hold me and let me mourn my brother. To help Mary-Ellen figure out what to do next, with Junior and with the farm. There’s no one left now in the family but me.

I have no choice but to be stronger. To be harder. I’m afraid I won’t recognize myself, Jack. That you won’t recognize me. That I’ll turn into my mother, something you once promised me that you would never let happen.

But you’re not here to keep your promise. Will you ever come home?

Dear Jack,

Ronald’s memorial service was today. There weren’t many who showed up at the church, but then there aren’t too many left in town either. More and more men are signing up to join the service, leaving their wives and children to carry the extra burden at home.

Mary-Ellen and Junior will come by tomorrow. We’ll bury Ronald’s ashes then.

Did you know the Catholic Church now has a shelter in the basement for those families unable to carry that burden? The bank has been calling loans on so many families. I found out that the Willard’s lost their home last week. I still remember John from when we were all in school, scrawny little red head. I can’t imagine him there, where you are, shooting a rifle at another person. Sue just gave birth to their fifth child, just days after finding out John was killed.

Another friend of ours dead. Another woman I know who has to carry the burden of raising her children, alone. Please Jack, please don’t make me one of those woman!

I’m thinking of opening our home to some of these families. We have more than enough room. I can clear out the attic and it’ll give Mary friends to play with. Every day that I sit in this house, set the table for the two of us, I feel a seed of guilt. I don’t think any of us thought it would get this bad.

My mother used to tell us stories of the Nazi’s. I never wanted to believe her, that life could get so bad. A house, no larger than our kitchen area, with ten people living there. She prayed her children would never live the life she did. Now I pray that Mary will never experience the life I’ve lived. It’s a wish we pass along as mother’s, down to our children. Will Mary one day make the same wish? Will her life be that difficult that she’ll need to?

Doug was at the service. He was one of the few men there. He’s aged in the past few months, Jack. He’s taking the burden of so many families onto his shoulders. He’s now helping out at five different farms. I told him he needs to come to dinner more often. That way at least I’ll know he’s being fed, but he turned me down. He doesn’t finish the chores of the last farm until after Mary is in bed.

I told him I’d leave him a plate. I know you would expect nothing less. He’s a good man, your Doug. He has a good heart. I hope he finds a wife soon that will look after him and take care of him the way he needs.

~~~

I picked up a new maple tree sapling from the nursery in town today. Doug stopped by early this morning and dug a hole in the back corner, near everyone else’s trees. Mary wanted to know why their trees were so far away from Mother and Father’s. So I told her the story I was told, how the sibling trees will grow and protect the edges of our property, but how the parent trees were always close by to be nurtured and loved.

She didn’t understand. Just like I didn’t. But I’m not going to change tradition now. Not when there are already four other trees planted at the back of our lot.

I invited Mary-Ellen and Junior to come stay with me, but she turned me down. Seems one of Ronald’s friends offered to help take care of the place. No doubt he’ll end up taking care of Mary-Ellen as well. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but Doug told me to mind my own business.

I actually listened to him. I know, you’re shocked. So am I.

Mary and Junior held hands while Doug planted the tree over Ronald’s ashes. Mary-Ellen remained strong, never taking her gaze away from the tree until at the very end when she met my gaze. Neither one of us shed a tear. I hope Mary-Ellen was able to cry in private. I refuse to. Both the kids told stories about Ronald before we walked away. I put on the kettle and sat with Mary-Ellen in silence as the kids played outside.

Since she won’t come and stay with me, I’m going to approach someone else. Another family at the shelter. Not Sue. As selfish as that is, I don’t think I could handle having five extra kids around the house. I will knit her kids some hats and mitts though. It doesn’t begin to make up for what they’ve lost, but it’s a way I can help.

Don’t judge me Jack. I wish I could invite them here, but for my own sanity, I can’t.

Mary drew you a new picture. I hope you like it. It’s been a while since I’ve received one of your letters. I pray every day that you are okay, that you are healthy and strong.

I love you Jack.

Forever yours, Dottie.