For Love and Honor

by Cathy Maxwell

  We still got a lot of winter left and the weatherman said we’ll get more snow this weekend. I’m thinking about asking Frank to put chains on my tires but Malene keeps telling me I got nowhere to go anyway. But just let there be some emergency around here and my Buick will be the only car up and running in this whole county. Roger’s squad car is so old I won’t be surprised if he doesn’t go on some sheriff’s call and have to be towed out. I keep telling him he needs a new vehicle but he claims the county can’t afford it. Maybe now that I’m writing this to you, I will have gotten the hang of letter writing and I’ll ask him if he wants me to write to the state and request more funds for the sheriff’s department.

  Well, that’s about all I can think of to tell you right now. I suppose if Miss Dubois was grading, she’d probably say I needed to spend a little more time on my spelling and grammar. I reckon I’ll just take my chances with what I got and hope you’ll overlook the errors.

  We’re proud of you, Raymond, for signing up in the army when there was a war going on, for fighting for these United States of America, helping us keep our many freedoms, showing honor and bravery in your service on the battlefield. You know my Lawrence has made a career in the military, fought in both Gulf Wars, served as an instructor overseas and now back here in the states but I want you to know that I feel as much pride in your service as I do my own son’s.

  We got a fine picture of you on the wall at the diner and everybody here in Pie Town wants you to get well and come back home. We look forward to giving you a hero’s welcome, serving you some decent pie, and making sure you know just how much we appreciate all you have done.

  Maybe when you get out of the hospital, come home to Catron County, and wear that nice soldier uniform, you can speak to the General of the Post Office and get my mail back running at a decent time. You take care now and hurry home.

  Your friend,

  Oris Whitsett

  Dear Raymond,

  Enclosed in this package that Trina is putting together is a pecan pie I made this morning. It has chocolate and lots of butter and brown sugar and of course, pecans. Frank said you didn’t care for coconut so I left out that ingredient and added half a cup more of the nuts. I thought the pecan pie would ship better than the meringue or fruit ones; and it should stay fresh since we serve it a couple of days past the bake day at the diner and nobody seems to notice.

  I’m not sure if you heard that I now officially bake pies at the diner for Fred and Bea. You know, they used to serve just brownies, maybe a pound cake once in a while, but they’ve never been known for their desserts. I started making pies last year just before the festival, won the grand prize at the bake off, and took a class later that season at the community college on creating tasty desserts. I like fixing the pies and have even come up with a few recipes on my own. I just find one I like and add a little something else or take out an ingredient I don’t care for, replace it with something different, kind of like the extra nuts for the coconut in your pecan one.

  Don Martinez from over at the steakhouse in Socorro drove all the way out to Pie Town last summer just to taste my banana cream. I heard it mentioned that he would like me to come down there and make the desserts for his restaurant but I think I’ll just stay where I am. Fred and Bea pay me a little more than when I was waitressing and when I get orders from customers at the diner, I am given the full amount received. We charge twenty-five dollars for a pie; so I can do real well when it’s a holiday season or somebody is hosting a family reunion. It’s a nice arrangement and I don’t have to drive so far to work.

  When we heard about your accident, the bomb that blew up your army jeep, we all stopped what we were doing and we said a prayer, right then and there. Fred and Bea closed the diner early and then we all gathered at the church and said more prayers. I don’t go to Holy Family Church since I’m not Catholic, but that evening everybody in the whole town showed up. Even Oris came and he hasn’t been to church since they dedicated the building. He drove his Buick, of course, and even brought Fedora Snow, his neighbor from across the street, although he did make her sit in the back.

  Father George read a few passages of scripture. Roger sang a hymn. We lit candles and we prayed. Out loud. Everybody taking a turn asking God to heal you, to let everything be alright, to bring you back home to us.

  Your dad wasn’t there and we prayed for him too. Everybody knew he took the news real hard. Walked out of his garage and just went up into the hills. Stayed up there three days in the worst storm we’ve had all winter. Bernie took his truck up there to find him, but he said he never smelled a wisp of smoke or saw a single print in the snow and you know, Bernie’s pretty good at tracking.

  Of course, Frank came back and even though he doesn’t talk much about it, he seems like he’s doing better now that we know you’re out of Afghanistan, in the hospital in Germany, and doing okay. He’s back to work, at least, which is good for Pie Town because most everybody needs help putting chains on their tires.

  Trina said that I should tell you about me and Mr. King, Bernie. I know you worked some for him on his ranch when you were younger. She said that you would like to hear that we started dating because she hadn’t actually told you yet since it just became official only a few weeks ago. She says that, but I figure she already let the cat out of the bag because it was her pushing that really got us together. Bernie, Mr. King, is an old bachelor, set in his ways; and truth be told, I never thought he’d ask me out. But you know Trina. She said something to him and the next thing I know, I’m riding with him over to Silver City for dinner and a movie. It was some crazy western cowboy show that had aliens in it. That Harrison Ford was the main cowboy and Bernie knew I liked him in those Indiana Jones movies so he found out when this new film was showing at the cinema and asked me to join him. He came to the diner to ask and when I looked over at Trina, who was there eating lunch, she just grinned from ear to ear. I figure she knew what he was asking before I did.

  Trina’s been a good friend to me in the last year. I know it seems strange, us being so different in ages, me being old enough to be her mother or even grandmother, but she’s just so easy to talk to, so down to earth, truthful. I find her to be a person of great courage and strength. She’s quite a gal, but I guess that’s news you already know, right?

  She tells me about how you’ve been talking on the computer, how you write letters, send messages on that thing called Placebook or something like that. Maybe she wouldn’t want me to say this, but Raymond, the girl lights up like a Christmas tree when your name is mentioned. I don’t know how you can see each other on that little computer screen or how you can have a conversation of any real value when you’re so far away, but she sure seems like she knows you as good or better than those of us who watched you grow up. And if my friend is happy, then I’m happy too. Besides I told her this and I’ll tell you the same thing, she couldn’t find a better man anywhere.

  I tell her about how you were as a boy, so quiet, like your dad, so interested in how things work. Always reading and learning. As I recall, you were also a sucker for any old stray dog or cat that wandered through town. I remember when you were about ten years old and you found a rabbit near my house. You wrapped it up in your shirt and brought it to the front door. You were so gentle with that little thing. You asked me if it was mine and when I explained I didn’t keep rabbits, you said it hurt his leg and you wanted to tend to it and asked me if it was okay if you took him home. I asked Frank about that rabbit a number of years later and he told me how you fed it and cared for it and then let it out at Bernie’s ranch. When I mentioned it to Bernie a couple of months ago, he told me that he would see that old rabbit near his back shed for years. He said it hung around there longer than some of the barn cats. He claimed you were still feeding it all those months you worked out there as a teenager. All my life living out in the country I haven’t ever heard of a rabbit living longer than a couple of months, maybe a year, especially out here. With all the co
yotes and hawks and owls, a rabbit is lucky to make it through one mating season.

  Maybe when you get home, you and Trina, the baby, and me and Bernie can ride over to Grants for a nice dinner or even down to Albuquerque for a ball game or a trip to the shopping mall or something. I know we’re old but it would still be nice to spend some time with the three of you. I guess Trina has showed you pictures of Alexandria, maybe held her up to that computer camera for you to see. She’s growing like a weed and jabbers on about as much as her mamma. She’s going to be a talker. But she’s so cute you just want to eat her up with a spoon.

  We love you, Raymond. We think of you every day, light church candles, say our prayers. We’re looking after Trina and your father and we want you to come home soon. Bernie sends his greetings. He’s not one for writing down sentiments but he wanted me to make sure you know that he cares for you and misses you a whole lot. He says his farm wasn’t ever as well-tended as it was when you were there in those spring and summer seasons you helped him out. He never found a grown man as dedicated, honest, and as hardworking as you were and you weren’t even old enough to drive. He calls you the hero of Pie Town.

  When you get back home to Catron County, I’ll give you the recipe for the pecan pie and I’ll make you whatever dessert you like best. Trina said you like the lemon bars they serve in the army so I’ll start working on a special lemon pie recipe this week.

  Hurry home.

  Love,

  Francine Mueller

  Dear Raymond,

  I send you all manner of blessings and prayers of healing with this letter. As the pastor of your home church here at Holy Family, I am writing to let you know that we lift you up in the merciful arms of God and keep you in our hearts and minds every day. I think the idea that Trina had of sending you a parcel of well-wishes is a good one and I am happy to include a handmade rosary from the Brothers at the Norbertine Hermitage Center in Albuquerque and a prayer book from the diocese office in Gallup. I have also included drawings from the children in the Sunday School class at Holy Family who are sending their prayers and greetings to you as well. I especially like Little Tillie Romero’s drawing of the church, a yellow ribbon wrapped around the entire building and a star overhead, bright and shining above it. She said it is the same star that brought the wise men to Bethlehem and if it was able to bring them to the baby Jesus, it is strong and bright enough to bring you home.

  It’s been a few months since we talked about the Epiphany event and the arrival of the wise men to the stable where our Savior was born, but I guess she finds great comfort in the story and still remembers the long journey across the desert that the Magi made and is considering the deserts of Afghanistan that you have traveled across while making your return to Pie Town. She is also the one who created the bracelet made from wildflowers that is likely to wilt before completing its arrival. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that her beautiful piece of jewelry, picked with great care from across the road from her house and braided together, would probably not withstand the time and rigors involved in shipping. When you find the small plastic bag with shriveled stems and petals, just know it comes with great thought and love from Tillie.

  I understand that you don’t really know me and that you grew up under the care of Father Joseph here at Holy Family Church. He was a good man and a favorable and popular priest. At the time of his death, all of the members of the church attended his funeral held in Quemado six months ago. He was faithful until the very end and I know will be greeted in Heaven by the saints and angels celebrating his good service and his life of dedication. I know he would want me to send his love and care for you as well.

  Of course, you have probably already heard the story of my arrival to Pie Town since I got here the very same day as Trina. In fact, as I’m sure she has told you, we drove into town together. She was quite a handful on that ride. Perhaps she mentioned to you that I was not a very experienced driver and I was unsure of where the parish was, what time I was anticipated, and what folks would be expecting in their new priest. With all these concerns, let me just say that I was not at all inclined to offer a ride to a young teenager from Texas who was arriving in Catron County with about as much information about Pie Town as I had. Even though I worked quite diligently to try and put a distance between Trina and me both in the minds of my parishioners and in any kind of relationship she thought we might have, I now recognize quite clearly my pride, arrogance, and lack of charity and count our friendship as one of my greatest gifts as a priest and as a human being. She has shown more strength of character and gentleness of spirit in the couple of years we have known each other than I could possibly ever demonstrate in a lifetime.

  She is a wonderful mother even though she doubts her skills. She loves Alexandria and is very careful to attend to the little girl’s needs and desires. She is a loyal employee at the garage with your dad, knows more about an engine than I ever will; and she has become a faithful friend to many in our little town.

  She tells me of your courtship, a relationship I understand that is built upon computer dates and letters and calls and emails. I asked her once how it was that she fell in love with a man she barely knew since I understood she only met you when Frank drove her back to Texas and she attended your boot camp graduation. I intended no malice with my query and although she chooses to tease me about my reasons for such a question, I think at the time she perceived it as innocent. She smiled with the question and explained that the relationship she had with you was the most honest one she had ever had. She claims there is no pretending between the two of you because of all of the difficult circumstances you both have faced. She said you helped talk her through the anxiety and worry she suffered during her pregnancy. She said you were kind and easy to talk to and that she felt you were sincere in your affections and concern.

  She seems to think that because you met each other when you were both heading into new territories, journeying across unknown paths, that there is a bond connecting you and a permission to be completely yourselves. She was pregnant and a new resident in this fair village and you were fighting a war in a strange land. Although she understands the differences in what you have both faced, she said the unfamiliarity of the circumstances and the sense of suddenly being pushed into the world alone somehow connected you in a way that will last forever. I don’t claim to know much about romantic relationships but I do know that Trina is loyal and honest and a good judge of character. If she says your hearts are bound together for a lifetime, I believe it.

  Your grandmother from Ramah comes to church quite often even though I know the trip is a long one for her, especially in the winter months when I know the roads are icy and difficult to traverse. And yet, she is faithful to the service of Holy Family and to the ways of the Catholic Church. She knows of our prayers for her grandson and enjoys the stories the parishioners love to tell about you while they reminisce of your boyhood times. I guess she didn’t see you all that often when you were growing up and these childhood memories seem to bring her great pleasure.

  I try to minister to your father, Frank. He is a kind man and has been generous to me in the sharing of his knowledge and skills in working on the engine of my car as he never charges me for auto repairs. He has shared stories and information about your people, the Navajo, and has offered to take me out to wilderness sites that are sacred to your family and that he is sure I would find beautiful. Although I haven’t actually gone on any camping adventures with him yet, I look forward to opportunities to see the Malpais area and Fence Lake and the North Plains. I’ve heard that Frank Twinhorse is the best person to hike and track this county and I am happy that we will have that opportunity in these upcoming spring and summer months. Perhaps you will be home and well soon and can join us in these outings.

  Please receive this letter and these included gifts from the church and me as signs of our love and prayers. Please also know that I am extending to you the gift of my friendship as your pastor and as a per
sonal friend of Trina. I know it will take some time to get used to me and my ways as a priest, but I hope you will allow me the chance to minister to you when you return to New Mexico. I have heard so many lovely things about you, your commitment to hard work, your gentle ways with animals, your volunteer work in the community, and your service to the church and I look forward to the opportunity of getting to know you better.

  Your choice to serve in the military is an honorable one and I thank you for your willingness to enlist and join the army while we have been at war. I hope you know your efforts, your choice, and your service is honored here at home and across the country. We pray for your healing and for your speedy return to Pie Town.

  In God’s grace,

  Father George Morris, Holy Family Church

  Dear Beloved Raymond,

  Roger and I are sitting at the kitchen table, late on a Thursday evening, sharing our concerns and love for you as we write this letter together. Roger has asked that I do all the writing because he has such poor penmanship. And if you remember all the notes he scribbled to you across the years, you will surely agree. He’s a great man, a wonderful sheriff; but he cannot write a lick. I often wonder how his deputies and secretary ever follow any of his written orders because you can’t tell whether he’s writing in Spanish or English and it wouldn’t matter anyway because I can read both languages, have lived with him for more than thirty years, and I still can’t decipher his words. (He just mumbled something in Spanish but it’s not worth translating it and adding it to this letter.)