[Finding Emma 01.5] Dear Jack

by Steena Holmes

  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.

  Dear Jack,

  When you first mentioned joining to fight in the war, we were both a bit naive in thinking you would be home within six months. It’s been a year and no end in sight. I’ve been trying to think about the women who saw their husbands leave to join World War I and World War II. I wonder if they counted the days till their husbands came home, or if they tried not to think about it.

  Do you know that Mary x’s out every day? Even though there’s no end date, she keeps counting down. She also now has three shoeboxes full of drawings and special items she’s collected for you. One box is almost completely full of pretty rocks and shells. There’s an empty bird’s egg and one of your dried roses in there too.

  Your rose bushes are budding, I thought you might like to know. Doug had to uproot one of your bushes, there were black spots all over it and no green limbs. But he’s going to replace it. Mary will even help him pick out a new bush for you. Taking care of the flowers will be her job this spring. That little girl of ours wants to so much to show you that she’s growing up. Part of me wonders if you’ll ever be able to see it, how much she’s grown, or if the last memory you’ll have of her is of a young girl with pig tails in her hair?

  It’s been so long since we last heard from you Jack. Are you getting any of the letters and drawings we’ve sent you? I try not to worry but I can’t help it. Doug reassures me that you are probably deep in the trenches and that they’re holding everything for you. I hope so.

  I lay in bed at night and try to pretend you’re beside me. I place my hand out, palm up, on your side of the bed and imagine that you are holding it while I fall asleep. Some nights I end up cuddling with your pillow and I’ve started to wear one of your nightshirts to bed. I feel closer to you then. I know you’re probably shaking your head at me for being so fanciful.

  I don’t want to complain because I know that whatever I’ve experienced has been nothing compared to what you must be going through. It’s the not knowing that is the hardest part. The “what ifs” that run through my head day after day.

  Doug says I’ve lost weight. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Don’t worry, I still have my love handles, but my dresses are a little looser on me. You’ll be happy to know that he is constantly after me to make sure I take care of myself — for both you and Mary. He pulls out that piece of paper where you wrote down the things you want to say to me. I close my eyes and pretend it’s you telling me to take time for myself, to not work so hard and to remember that you love me.

  Come home soon, my love. I miss hearing your voice call me Dottie-mine. I miss hearing your voice whisper I love you.

  Most importantly, I miss your touch. Your laughter and the twinkle in your eyes when you’re teasing Mary. I miss watching you tend to your roses, the way you unbutton your shirt when you come to bed, the sound of your soft snores while you hold me close.

  I miss you. You.

  Your Dottie-mine forever.

  Jack,

  It’s been two months since the letter came telling me you are missing. Two long months of knowing my worst nightmare has come true. Two months of pretending everything is okay to Mary.

  Jack, so help me, you need to come home. I can’t do this much longer. I’ve tried to be strong. I’ve tried to be a rock for Mary. But there’s only so much I can do when my own rock is gone. You, Jack, you are my rock. You are the one who holds me up when all I want to do is let go. You. No one else.

  I need you. I’ve tried for two long months to resist saying those words. I’m sorry there have been no letters…there hasn’t been too much to tell.

  Let’s see…Mary’s collection for you has grown. We are now into box number four. I bought her a notebook where she can write her own letters to you. Doug has been helping her with that, so rest assured you’ll be able to read them.

  Your garden is, how shall I put this — stagnant. I try, I really do. But I have a green thumb for vegetables, not for roses. I swear these bushes of yours are emotional, they must know the difference between your gentle touch and my uncaring one. I’m sorry, that was harsh, I know you love these rose bushes, even though I might not understand your fascination with them. So many things about you continue to surprise me — these roses being one of them.

  Jack, what is it like where you are? Is it hot and humid? Cold and bitter? Are you well or barely surviving? What are you doing? Where are you? I know you’re not dead. I’d be dead as well if you were. Plus, I know you wouldn’t do that to Mary. It would mean breaking your promise, and we all know that Jack Henry is a man of his word.

  Please Jack…I promise to write more if you promise to just come home.

  I won’t break my promise.

  Dottie.

  Jack Douglas Henry,

  How dare you! What were you thinking? What possible thought would have gone through that thick skull of yours to make you think that it would be even remotely okay?

  You are my husband. Till death do us part. I don’t remember finding out you were dead and I’m sure not. So why would you think I’d forsake my vows just because you were afraid?

  That’s what all this boils down to. You being afraid.

  Well, let me tell you something mister. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and our daughter. I am more than capable of taking care of this house and providing for us. I’m doing it now and you can rest assured I’ll continue to do so until you come home.

  Just so you know, I tore a strip off of Doug as well. I do not care that you made him promise to take care of your family if three months passed after you’d been declared MIA. Missing in action is not dead. And I know you’re not dead.

  I hope, when you finally read this, that you will realize your error and apologize. To me, to your daughter and to the best friend willing to throw his life away for you.

  I am so mad at you right now Jack. It’s a good thing I had a lot of flour and sugar in the house. I’ll be heading in to town tomorrow to drop off all the baking I’ve done today.

  Don’t you ever do that again. Is that understood? Never.

  Dorothy Julianne Henry – the wife you’ll some day be thanking for never giving up.

  Dear Jack,

  It’s been six months since that letter arrived that changed my life. There are no more tears to cry. No more hopes to dash. They’re all gone.

>   One of your squad mates stopped by for a visit the other day. Jonathan Notley. A nice young man. He carried a bundle in his surviving hand. If it weren’t for Mary being there with me in the garden when he stepped out of the truck, I would have fallen apart.

  He brought us back all the letters we sent you. Tied in a red ribbon, the one I stuffed in your pocket right before you left. He found them beneath your pillow and apologized for not bringing them to us sooner. That’s when I cried. He’d been in the hospital for the past few months due to losing his hand. The poor boy. He said you were a father figure to him, saved him multiple times and taught him more than his own father had. You were his hero.

  You are my hero.

  We invited him to stay but his father was waiting in the vehicle for him and they needed to head home. I wasn’t able to say much, I just held on to the letters, gripping them tight to my chest as he told us about his time with you. Mary hung on to Doug’s hand and wouldn’t let go.

  I stood there, with a smile on my face until he drove away. Doug picked up Mary and followed me into the house. The look on his face…that sweet boy who only meant good…confirmed what I didn’t want to accept.

  You’re really gone. Aren’t you?

  How? How could you be dead? Why doesn’t it feel like you’re gone?

  In my heart, you’re still alive. In my heart, you’ve never left.

  Jack.

  How am I going to tell Mary?

  ~~~

  You would have been so proud of our daughter, Jack.

  I went up to our room after Jonathan left and hid there for a while. I didn’t want to face Doug knowing he’d been right, and I wasn’t ready to answer Mary’s questions. I know it wasn’t right of me to leave that up to him, that it wasn’t fair to ask him to carry that burden. Yes, I was being a coward. And I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.