by Amy Clipston
“Okay.” Mamm touched her arm. “Let me know if you need me.”
“Danki.” She stepped into the family room, flopped onto the sofa, and opened the letter.
Dear Mattie,
I decided to give you some space, hoping you would take the time to reread my letters and think about our relationship. I was hoping a month away from me would give you time to miss me.
To be honest, I’ve waited all month to hear from you. And since I haven’t heard from you, I will take that as your answer. You obviously meant it when you said you were going to set me free. Well, I’m sending you this letter to set you free as well. But first, I have a few things I want to say to you.
I’m sorry for proposing to you and making you feel obligated to marry me. When I proposed, I thought I was doing it for you and Jacob, but I’ve realized I really did it for me.
I’ve always loved you. I suppose I thought someday you’d realize you loved me too. I was kidding myself, because you never shared the same feelings I’ve always had for you. It just took me too long to come to that conclusion.
When you met Isaiah, I was envious. I clearly remember the first time you looked at him. I was envious of how quickly you fell for him. I wanted to be the love of your life, but I see now it will never be possible for you to love me the way you loved him. I was naïve to believe that could ever be possible.
I’m sorry for trapping you, but now I’m setting you free. If the community believed in divorce, I would give you one so you could be completely free of me.
I’ve spent all month thinking about our short time together as husband and wife. I had believed that if I gave you your space, you would eventually fall in love with me and want to be mei fraa. That was why I told you that you could stay in the downstairs bedroom alone for as long as you needed, and that was why I told you to decorate the haus anyway you’d like. I wanted you to make our haus a home, but you never thought of it as your home.
Your aversion to our marriage was so obvious when you told the doctor’s receptionist your last name was Petersheim. I should have known then that I was setting myself up for heartache and failure. I had hoped we could make it work, but we obviously can’t.
I’m going to pack up your things Monday night. Once I have everything together, I will ask Hank to take them to you so you don’t have to come back here. I don’t want to make things harder on you than they already are. We can continue to live apart. I pray someday we can be freinden. I will always miss your friendship. You were the one person I always trusted completely.
When I asked you to marry me, I only wanted you to be froh. I was so worried I was going to wind up lonely and sad like mei mamm that I didn’t take a step back to realize how all of this was hurting you.
Please know you’ll always have a piece of my heart.
Love,
Leroy
Tears rolled down her hot cheeks as Mattie read the letter over and over again.
When it was time for supper, she tucked the letter into her devotional for safekeeping.
After her parents had gone to bed, Mattie reread the letter while propped up on the sofa. Then she snuggled down and switched off her lantern. She closed her eyes as memories of Leroy played through her mind.
She recalled their time in school together. Leroy always picked Mattie to be on his team when they played softball. He defended her on the playground when bullies teased her for running too slowly. He picked her as his partner when they worked on math problems, and he walked her to and from school, sharing his umbrella in the rain and giving her his jacket when it was cold.
Leroy gave her a homemade valentine card every Valentine’s Day, and he collected special rocks for her. Suddenly she remembered the shoe box full of old mementos Lizanne had brought to her. Lizanne had found the box when she was cleaning out Mattie’s old room to start setting up her nursery. Mattie sat up, flipped on the lantern, popped up off the sofa, and picked up the shoe box.
Tears stung her eyes as she found several cards from Leroy—homemade birthday and valentine cards. All of them said “To Mattie, Love, Leroy F.” At the bottom of the box was a collection of the special rocks he’d given her.
Why hadn’t she noticed back then that he loved her? Why had she been so blind for so many years?
Mattie wiped her eyes and put the cards back into the box before placing it on the floor next to her suitcase. Then she pulled out all the letters he’d written to her since she moved back to her parents’ house. She sat on the sofa and read each of the letters, slowly taking in his words.
After reading them, she snuffed out the lantern, crawled under her covers, and closed her eyes. She wanted to go home to Leroy. She missed him. She needed him. But how could she give Leroy her heart if Isaiah still owned part of it?
Mattie couldn’t find the answer to these problems by herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and began to pray.
God, please help me. I feel Leroy pulling me to him, but I don’t know how to give him what he needs. Please guide me, God. Please heal my broken heart and teach me how to love again. In Jesus’ holy name, amen.
“Mattie? You’re up early.”
“Gude mariye.” Mattie glanced over at her mother standing in the family room doorway. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” Mamm studied her. “How long have you been up?”
“For about an hour.” Mattie glanced down at the lap quilt. “I snuck in and got the quilt while you were still sleeping. I wanted to finish this for Leroy.”
Mamm stepped in and sat down beside her on the sofa. “It’s for Leroy, then. I thought maybe it was all along. He’ll love it.”
“I hope so.” She ran her fingers over the quilt. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I reread all his letters, and then I kept waking up and thinking about everything. I finally got up and started working on the quilt.”
“Oh.” Mamm’s eyes glinted. “Does this mean you’re finally going to go home to him?”
“I don’t know.” Mattie frowned. “I’m still thinking about it. Today I’m going to do my chores and keep working on the quilt. I’m praying the answer will come to me while I’m working.”
Mamm squeezed her hand. “That’s a fantastic idea. You keep working, and I’ll go make you breakfast.”
“Danki.” Mattie was so thankful for her patient and thoughtful parents.
After washing his dishes from supper, Leroy carried a large cardboard box into the family room. He knelt down in front of the bookshelf and began loading up Mattie’s books.
He’d dismantled the crib in the nursery early that morning, but then realized he’d better keep all the furniture and baby equipment until Mattie told him what she wanted to do with it.
He glanced around the house and the ever-present silence seemed to roar in his ears. The house had been too silent since Mattie left. He missed her voice, her laugh, the sound of her footsteps, and the scent of her shampoo.
Sighing, he slipped the last two books into the box and then carried it to the kitchen, where he set it down against the wall. He grabbed two more boxes from the mudroom and then walked into the bedroom to pack up the clothes she’d left in the closet and dresser.
He picked up a small trinket box, a wooden frame containing a picture of a sunset, and the two candles that sat on her dresser and set them in the box. Then he cleaned out the clothes that remained in the dresser before moving to the closet. Soon the two boxes were full of her clothes and shoes, and he carried them to the kitchen.
After setting the boxes on the floor, he glanced up at the cross-stitch hanging on the wall. He recalled the day Mattie hung it there. His eyes took in the colorful butterfly and then silently read the words.
Happiness is like a butterfly:
The more you chase it, the more it will elude you,
but if you turn your attention to other things,
it will come and sit quietly on your shoulder.
The words rolled through his mind, and understanding coursed th
rough him. He’d been chasing Mattie, his happiness, but now he had to turn his attention to other things while continuing to hope she’d come back to him someday.
“Will you ever find happiness, Mattie?” he whispered. “If so, will I ever be a part of your happiness?”
Leroy rubbed his temple where a headache throbbed as he padded back into the bedroom. When he stepped through the doorway, his eyes locked on her hope chest. He walked over to it, opened it, and pulled out a small flat box sitting on top of a few linens.
When he opened it, his fingers touched the blue onesie he bought before Jacob was born. He spotted a large envelope at the bottom of the hope chest and lifted it. When he opened it, he pulled out Jacob’s birth certificate, death certificate, lock of hair, and footprints and handprints. Memories of his and Mattie’s short time living together, waiting for Jacob’s birth, flooded his mind, and his eyes stung.
“Why didn’t I try harder?” he whispered. “I’m so sorry for letting you down, Mattie. I’m sorry for not being the husband you needed.”
He put the items back into the envelope and tucked it into the bottom of the hope chest. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and glanced around the room. Soon Mattie’s things would be gone, and his house would be back to the way it was before they were married—too big, too quiet, and too lonely.
He rested his hand on the back of his neck and recalled the basket. It had been more than twenty-four hours since Tillie and Hank delivered it, and he hadn’t heard from Mattie. It was truly over. He was a husband without a wife.
He rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. Now he had to figure out how to go on with his life without her, but he would never forget her.
Leroy’s life and his heart would never be the same.
Mattie sat up straight on the sofa. She was drenched in sweat, and her hands were shaking. She lifted her hands to her face and found it wet. She’d been crying. No, she’d been sobbing.
She flipped on the lantern and looked at the clock on the end table by the sofa. It was four thirty in the morning. What had awakened her so early?
And then the dream came back to her, flooding her mind with its vivid visions. It had been a nightmare.
Mattie was dressed in black as she stood in Leroy’s family room in front of a coffin. The coffin was open, and Leroy’s body lay there. He was perfectly still, and when she touched his face, it was cold as ice.
Leroy was dead.
“Mattie.” As Joel walked up to her and touched her arm, his face crumpled. “Leroy died from the complications from pneumonia.” He shook his head as Mattie gasped. “He’d been ill for days and refused to go to the doctor.”
“Why didn’t he go?” She wiped tears from her face.
“He was all alone. You weren’t there to take care of him, so he just died alone.”
“It was my fault?” she asked, and Joel nodded. “Oh. I left him, and he died all alone.”
Tears stung Mattie’s eyes as the rest of the dream flashed through her mind. She had sobbed by Leroy’s coffin as she greeted friends and relatives who shared their condolences. Her heart had been empty, and her soul was shattered.
Leroy, her best friend and her husband, was gone. And she was left all alone.
“No, no, no.” She climbed from the sofa. “I can’t lose him. I just can’t.”
Her sister’s words suddenly filtered through her mind: “Let Leroy love you. You deserve happiness just as much as I do, Mattie.”
Tears streamed down Mattie’s face and soaked her nightgown as her thoughts turned to her conversation with Tillie. “You’re in pain right now, but the pain will lessen eventually. You’ll never forget Jacob, and you’ll always keep him in your prayers and your heart. Every one of my miscarriages was a loss . . . Believe me when I tell you Leroy is pining for you. He needs you, and you need him too.”
A wave of panic rushed through Mattie, and her breath came in short bursts. She couldn’t run the risk of losing Leroy.
“I love him,” she whispered, and she stilled.
Yes, she loved him. She loved his laugh, his sense of humor, his generosity, and his kind, thoughtful heart.
Mattie not only loved Leroy, but she was in love him with. She had relished that one kiss they’d shared. In fact, she craved more of those amazing, delicious kisses. She was ready to be his wife and live together every way a married couple should.
Now she had to convince him to take her back.
Mattie stood, pushed her feet into her slippers, picked up her lantern, and found the quilt on the end table where she’d left it before going to sleep. She had to finish the quilt for Leroy. She picked it up and set to work.
Two hours later, the quilt was finished. She ran her fingers over stitches, hoping the quilt would somehow be a fitting gift for him.
She remembered the picnic basket and rushed out to the kitchen to retrieve it. She carried it to the family room and opened the lid.
Her eyes took in Leroy’s neat, familiar penmanship. “2 Corinthians 1:7: And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.”
Tears pricked her eyes once again and she sniffed. The scripture touched her soul, and she folded the quilt and set it inside the basket.
Yes, my hope in you is firm, God. Thank you for leading me to Leroy.
Now she had to write a letter. And it had to be the most perfect, heartfelt letter she’d ever written. She had to make sure she told Leroy exactly how she felt so she could somehow win back his heart.
Mattie pulled out paper and a pen and then set to writing.
Dear Leroy,
I’m so sorry I’ve been blind since I was six years old. I remember how you defended me against a bully, walked me home with your umbrella in the rain, picked me first for your softball team, gave me special valentine cards, and collected rocks for me. Why didn’t I realize then how special you were?
You are the kindest, most generous, most thoughtful man I have ever known. I just don’t understand how I have come to deserve you. You should have a more thoughtful and generous woman than I am.
You’ve had me figured out from the beginning. You knew I needed you before I did. Everyone asked me how I was when Isaiah and Jacob died, but you were the one who wasn’t afraid to hear the true answer about the depths of my grief. Everyone else just wanted me to be all right. You sat with me and really listened. You brought me meals.
You held me upright during Jacob’s wake and funeral, and you held me while I sobbed after the funeral was over and everyone else had gone back to their own lives. And after I left you, you still came after me and offered me your precious heart.
I’ve thought long and hard about it, and no, I don’t want to live separately. I wouldn’t want a divorce even if our community allowed it.
Instead, I want to come home. I want to be with you. Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me and give me a second chance?
I’m so thankful God led you to me. I told you in a previous letter about the devotional mei mamm gave me. The book helped her through her grief when her bruder died. I’ve been reading it every night, and one verse has really spoken to me. It is Psalm 46, verse 1: “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” And the scripture you wrote on the basket lid also spoke to my heart.
I’ve realized God has been with me through all my grief and loss, and he also sent you to comfort me. You’ve been trying to comfort me all along, but I was too blind to see it. Now I see it, and I hope you will forgive me. I’m so very sorry for pushing you away and hurting you.
You are a blessing to me. And I love you, Leroy Fisher. I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to realize just how much I love you.
May I please come home?
All my love,
Martha Jane “Mattie” Fisher
P.S. I want to give you this quilt as a small token of my affection for you. You’ve given me so much and I could never repay you. But
if you decide not to let me come home, please keep the quilt in your buggy. I hope it keeps you warm on cold winter nights.
Mattie set down her pen, folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope, and said a silent prayer, asking God to make the letter and quilt enough to convince Leroy she wanted to be his wife.
CHAPTER 24
A MIXTURE OF ANXIETY AND EXCITEMENT COURSED THROUGH Mattie. Zac Crawford, her father’s driver, had parked his van in Leroy’s driveway, and now she watched as lights glowed in his kitchen and family room.
Leroy is still awake.
She’d waited until the evening to come over to see him so she could get him alone after the harness shop closed. She worried that if she came over too early he’d be distracted by work or a customer. Her hands trembled as she lifted the basket from the floor of the van.
“Thank you,” she told Zac before climbing out of the van and closing the door.
Then she stood in the driveway and stared at the house. This was where she wanted to live. This was where she belonged. But was it too late to ask for Leroy’s forgiveness? Worry and anxiety slithered up her spine.
“Mattie?” Zac called from the van. “Is everything okay?”
Mattie turned. “Ya, it is. Thank you.”
“Do you want me to wait?” he offered, leaning toward the passenger side window.
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Mattie waved. “Have a good night.”
She stood in the driveway as the van backed down toward the road, and then she faced the porch again. She pulled in a deep breath, mustered up all the confidence she could find inside of herself, and then walked toward the porch. She climbed the steps and stared at the back door.
Mattie gnawed on her bottom lip and then knocked. She held her breath as footfalls sounded, and she envisioned Leroy walking through the kitchen toward the mudroom.
A lantern flipped on, and as Leroy pushed open the door, his eyes widened and his mouth formed a large O.
Her pulse quickened as she looked up at him. He was breathtakingly handsome. His deep brown eyes glimmered in the soft yellow light of the lantern, and his beard was full but carefully trimmed, accentuating his strong jaw. She stared at his lips, and her stomach did a flip-flop as she pondered that amazing kiss they’d share. Could she convince him to kiss her like that once again?
