by Sarah Price
“One is from Mary Coblentz!” Fanny said to herself in surprise. Quickly, she opened the flap of the envelope and withdrew the single sheet of paper.
Dear Fanny,
I pray this letter finds you well and that your visit home to Colorado is all that you expected. You are missed in Mount Hope and I hope that you return soon. One particular person seems to miss you more than others. If you might send a note with some kind words for Henry, it would help to lift his sadness at your abrupt departure.
Regardless of your decision, I consider you a friend and, hopefully, one day soon as family.
God bless you.
Mary
Fanny scowled. Why should Mary send her such a letter, she wondered, unless to gloat that Elijah was soon to propose to her. She couldn’t help but wonder if Elijah already had. After all, the letter was postmarked four days earlier, and her comment that it didn’t matter whether or not Fanny married Henry indicated they would be family one way or the other. Surely Mary was counting on an upcoming wedding, and that wedding was to be hers into the Bontrager family.
She tucked the letter into her pocket and looked at the other envelope. The handwriting was familiar, and with a feeling of dread, she opened the envelope.
My dear Fanny,
How strange to know that you are so far away! The farm is not the same without our Fanny Price.
Soon after you left, Miriam insisted on moving to the Riehl farm, and Jeb readily agreed so as to keep the peace. Naomi is fretting because Miriam didn’t wait until spring as most young brides do. With both you and Miriam now gone, Mother is desolate, her melancholy deepening as the winter approaches. Julia is quieter too, although I have reason to believe she might be stepping out with someone. And brother Thomas remains the same. There is nothing more to add on that front.
As for me, reflecting on my future has helped me see that there is a hole in my heart. Like every man, I know the need for lifelong companionship, a woman who is righteous, nurturing, and kind. It is time for me to settle down and take a wife. I intend to make my offer as soon as I see her again.
I just pray that she says yes.
With all of God’s grace,
Elijah
Fanny shut her eyes and breathed deeply. How could it be that Elijah’s words cut through her, filling the hole in his heart but creating a deep one in hers.
“What news, Fanny?” Susan asked in a soft voice.
“The worst kind, I’m afraid.” Opening her eyes, Fanny looked at her sister. “Elijah’s going to ask Mary to be his fraa.”
Susan stared at her with large eyes. Starved for companionship as well as eager to develop her relationship with her sister, Fanny had confided in her younger sister shortly after her arrival. Susan had eagerly listened to Fanny’s stories about the Bontrager family as well as Henry and Mary. With great reluctance, Fanny had also shared the reason she’d been sent back to Colorado in the first place. Although Fanny had not said anything overtly negative about Mary, her disapproval of the young woman had been hinted at when she spoke of her rejection to Henry.
“Ach, Susan!” Fanny fought the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. “If only . . . ” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She dared not confide her feelings about Elijah to Susan, even though her outburst had probably already betrayed too much. Her sister was too young to understand the kind of love she had for Elijah. She folded the letter, taking care to slip it back into the envelope. Rather than put it in her pocket with Mary’s, she held onto it. Standing up, Fanny turned to Susan and tried to smile. It was forced. “I suppose I shouldn’t second guess. God has his plan, and who am I to question it?”
Chapter 18
ANOTHER LETTER, THEN?” her brother, Jerome, said when he and Peter trotted through the door. He tossed an envelope at her. “Why, aren’t you the popular one!”
“Bet it’s from your beau back in Ohio!” Peter snickered. At dinner a week ago Ruth had chattered about Fanny receiving mail, and Fanny had been forced to explain who sent her the letters. Hearing that one of the writers had been a man, Peter had drawn his own adolescent conclusions and was merciless in teasing her about Elijah.
Fanny frowned at him. For so many years she had been the youngest member of the Bontragers’ household. Now that she was back on her parents’ farm, she was the oldest. While she always had gotten on well with the younger children in the church district, she found it almost intolerable to have all six of her younger brothers and sisters around her. Besides the fact that the house was so small, their manners lacked the refinement she had come to expect from Amish children.
She presumed that their tendency toward being overly rowdy and mischievous came from living so far away from the other Amish households. Without access to school or town, the children had learned to amuse themselves with little to no external influence with the exception of the occasions that they managed to go to church services.
When the two boys scampered out the door to play, Fanny finally looked at the letter that she held in her hands. At first she smiled, for one glance at the handwriting told her who had written the letter: Elijah. And then, just as quickly, the smile faded from her face.
Only last week he had declared himself ready to marry, so Fanny could only presume that he had made his offer to Mary and this letter would inform her of his engagement. Fanny let her hands fall to her lap, the letter still clutched in her fingers, and shut her eyes.
Oh, how she had dreaded this moment! To read the news of Elijah’s engagement to Mary Coblentz would crush her heart to pieces! While she knew that Elijah considered her as part of his family, she always hoped that he could see beyond that familial relationship and finally recognize her as not only his “cousin” and friend, but a potential wife as well. But there could be no doubt that any chance she had of capturing his heart had disappeared from the moment Mary Coblentz had walked through the doors at the worship service last August.
For several moments Fanny sat by the cookstove, the letter in her lap and her eyes staring out the large window that overlooked the mountains. She recalled the way, as a child, she had always looked at that same mountain and wanted to go to it. Yet she never had. I shall walk to them, she told herself, getting ready to put the letter into her apron pocket. I shall finally do what no one else has. Walk to the mountains and pray for God to give me the strength to receive the news of Elijah’s engagement.
She could envision herself sitting among the trees, a coat wrapped around her shoulders, as she held the letter in her hands. While she sat upon a rock and looked out at the valley, she would open the letter and read his words. Only then and there could she accept the sorrow she would certainly feel to learn that her Elijah was committed to wed another. Surrounded by God’s majestic grace, she might be able to reconcile herself with the loss, forever, of the only man she had ever loved.
She shut her eyes, her hand still on the letter that was now safely stowed in her pocket.
“Fanny?”
Her thoughts interrupted, Fanny opened her eyes and saw Susan walk through the open door, her apron full of eggs from the chicken coop.
Susan walked to the kitchen table and gently began to place the eggs in an awaiting carton. “I saw the boys run in here with a letter. Since Maem doesn’t get too many, I presume it was for you then?”
Fanny sighed. “Ja, it is.”
Shaking the dust and hay from her now empty apron, Susan walked over to where Fanny sat by the window. “You don’t look none too happy ’bout it. Was it bad news?”
Fanny nodded her head. “I’m afraid so. Elijah is probably announcing that he is to marry.”
“Probably? And that’s not bad news.”
When Fanny did not respond, Susan seemed to suddenly understand. “Oh,” Susan said in a soft voice.
For a long few moments, neither one of them spoke. Fanny turned her head back to look at the mountain. With the sun beginning to dip behind it, the light that shone through the window began to hurt
her eyes. Wincing, she looked away.
“In the Book of Mark, Jesus told us, ‘Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, “Be taken up and thrown into the sea,” and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him.’ If only I could have no doubt in my heart . . . ”
Susan looked at her with a questioning expression on her face. “Doubts about what, Fanny?”
She looked at her younger sister and tried to force a sad smile. “That he isn’t making a mistake, I reckon.”
“You don’t like his fiancée?”
Fanny pursed her lips to the side and looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer. “It’s not that simple, Susan,” she started to explain. “It’s not that I don’t like her, I reckon, but I don’t like her for him. If he must marry another woman, then I would want to wish him happiness, for I would be remiss to want us both to be unhappy. This Mary is everything that Elijah is not. I cannot bear to think of the years of sorrow he may encounter in trying to change her.”
Susan leaned against the arm of the chair. “I’m sorry, Fanny.” She glanced over at the table and then back again at Fanny. “Where is the letter? Did he at least mention that you should return to Ohio?”
Fanny shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t read it yet.”
At this comment Susan looked taken aback. “You haven’t read it yet? Why, Fanny, you don’t know what the letter says then! You might be trying to ask the mountain to move into the sea without realizing that it’s already there!” Susan lifted an eyebrow as if silently encouraging her sister to open the envelope and actually read the letter.
With great reluctance Fanny withdrew the letter from her apron. After casting a quick glance at Susan, who nodded for her to continue, she slid her finger under the flap on the envelope and withdrew a two-page handwritten letter.
Dear Fanny,
I hope this letter finds you well. Unfortunately it brings some news that might be rather distressing to you. I am sorry that I am the one to tell you and pray that your grief will be tempered by your strong faith.
The family has faced some distressing times. Evil has been lurking in the shadows. And the community is in an uproar.
I am sorry to have to tell you that Thomas has taken ill. While his sickness is of his own reckoning, we are distraught that he is not recovering.
Perhaps just as distressing, Fanny, is another situation of a very sensitive nature. My sister—and your cousin—Miriam Riehl, was found in the company of Henry Coblentz by her husband, Jeb. I must, unfortunately, leave the details of that discovery to your imagination, as they are of such a delicate nature that I am embarrassed to write the words on paper. . .
Fanny’s mouth opened, her jaw almost touching her chest. “Oh, help,” she whispered, lowering the page.
“What? What’s happened?” Susan asked, starting to lean over Fanny’s shoulder as if to read the letter. But Fanny got to her feet and began to pace, the letter clenched in her hand. “Fanny! What is it?” Susan insisted.
“I—I can hardly believe it!” Fanny glanced at her sister. She was thankful that her mother and the other children were not in the kitchen, a rare occurrence but perfectly timed. “Thomas has taken ill. Gravely ill it seems. And while that is bad enough, he writes that Miriam has—” Fanny hesitated. Elijah’s words had explained the situation as well as could be expected, given the delicacy of the situation. But Fanny almost could not believe what he had written. Rather than explain it to her sister, she merely held out the first page of the letter. “You read it! I don’t even want to say what I fear Miriam has done! Certainly I’m misreading it!”
Susan snatched the page and her eyes scanned the handwritten words. “Oh, my!” Her eyes grew large and she quickly passed it back to Fanny. “And that is the man they wanted you to marry? That Henry?” She shook her head. “You don’t think that Miriam has . . . ”
Fanny finished the sentence for Susan. “ . . . broken her wedding vows? That appears to be the insinuation. Oh, how dreadful! How terribly awful.” She turned to the second page and continued reading. “There’s more here about Thomas. Elijah must have added to the letter after writing that page,” she said before reading the rest of the letter in silence.
Susan waited patiently for her to finish.
“Oh dear! That poor Thomas!” Still reading the letter, Fanny nodded her head. “Seems his sickness is of his own doing. He was racing his horse with his friends at night. He fell off and no one seemed to notice.” Or care, she wanted to add. She knew far too well of the types of people with whom Thomas socialized. “Elijah writes that Thomas broke his ankle and hit his head. He was outside for hours and now he has pneumonia.”
“Pneumonia! Two people died out here last winter from pneumonia!”
“He’s young and strong,” Fanny said, setting down the letter. “He should pull through, I imagine. However, surely we will pray for him. He needs God’s love now more than ever.”
They both bowed their heads and prayed silently for Thomas Bontrager’s recovery from his injuries and his sickness. Fanny could only hope that Thomas had asked for forgiveness from God and Jesus for all of his sins. Perhaps, she thought as she finished praying, Thomas will learn from these mistakes.
“Is that all it says, then?” Susan asked.
Fanny looked back at the letter. “There’s a little more.” Silence followed as her eyes scanned the remaining two paragraphs. She frowned for a moment and had to reread the words.
“What is it, Fanny?”
She looked up from the letter, an incredulous look on her face. “Why! Elijah says I am to return to Mount Hope and he insists that I bring you with me!”
“Me?” Susan’s eyes widened. “He says that?”
Fanny nodded and pointed to the paragraph. “Right here, Susan.”
Her sister leaned on her shoulder so that she could read the section of the letter indicated by Fanny. Her face lit up when she read it. “Oh!”
“They have a driver fetching us on Monday! We’re to catch a bus in Denver!”
Fanny set down the letter and stared at the window. The majestic beauty of the mountain contrasted sharply with the turmoil of emotions she felt from having read Elijah’s message. While she had mixed feelings about returning, she knew that there was no other option. Staying in Westcliffe meant burdening her parents with more expenses, and from the short time she had been there, Fanny knew that she, like her siblings, had limited prospects in Colorado.
Yet Fanny still felt with wounded pride the sting of her banishment from Ohio. Was she so easily discarded, her contributions so unworthy of any appreciation? Now, to be beckoned back, not because she was wanted but merely needed? She felt disparaged and maligned once more. Truly Fanny did not expect—nor did she want!—to be commended for having discerned Henry’s true colors long ago. He had proven himself to be everything Fanny suspected.
But there was no word in the letter about that. No blame given to Henry nor to Miriam—just the stark facts of their mutual fall.
Suddenly Fanny wondered if the family would blame her for the unspeakable situation. After all, no one had ever acknowledged Henry’s faults, nor had they taken note of Miriam’s flirtatious behavior. Perhaps the family believed that, by refusing Henry, she had broken his heart and driven him to find comfort in Miriam’s arms.
“Oh, Susan!” she said, crumpling the letter into her hand. “What if they blame me for what Henry and Miriam did? How will I ever face them again?”
“Nee, Fanny! You’ve done nothing wrong.” Susan forced Fanny to stand up. Placing her hands on her older sister’s shoulders, Susan stared into her face. For the first time since Fanny had been there, she saw a look of excitement in Susan’s eyes. “Don’t you understand, Fanny? They are sending for you. They realize you were right. They realize you are part of their family. You do not have to worry about facing them; they have to worry about facing you!”
Fanny wasn�
��t entirely convinced.
Susan laughed. “And we are leaving here! They are going to give me the same opportunity!” Like a child, Susan spun around in delight. “No more of this!” she said and waved her arms. “No more isolation. No more living hand-to-mouth. No more worry about the future!”
Fanny’s worry began to transition into happiness for her sister.
“And you know what?” Susan said suddenly, grabbing Fanny’s hands. “There is one thing that I’ve always wanted to do. Dreamed of doing. But I never had the nerve.” “What’s that, Susan?”
Susan turned toward the window and pointed. “There. That mountain. I may never see it again, Fanny, but I have always dreamed of walking to it. To climb it, even if only for a few yards or so. Why, all of my life I have been staring at the mountain. Now I want to see what it stares at for all of its life!”
Fanny stood up and placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder. They stared at the mountain, so majestic and glorious as it rose from the earth and climbed toward the heavens. The snow at the top looked pure and virtuous, clean of any sin from man. Yes, Fanny thought. She wanted to go to it too. For she knew that she would never return to Colorado again.
“Tomorrow,” Fanny whispered. “Tomorrow we will say goodbye to Westcliffe properly.” She pointed toward the mountain. “From there.”
Chapter 19
FANNY AND SUSAN sat in the kitchen, both of them feeling uncomfortable but for different reasons. Susan kept wringing her hands, quietly looking around and taking in the vast differences of the Bontrager family’s home. Ever since their arrival the previous evening, Susan appeared uncomfortable, certainly feeling out of place and less confident than she had been in Westcliffe. But Fanny remained grateful for her company and the opportunity the Bontragers offered to provide her with a better future, even if the timing of their arrival coincided with Miriam’s unfortunate turn of events.
Julia had left the house just after supper, Fanny presumed to go visit her friends and to escape the heavy tension that encompassed the house. Meanwhile Elijah had spent the better part of the day and the early evening in the barn. When he finally entered the house and headed to the bedroom to sit with Thomas, he paused only to glance in Fanny’s direction and offer the slightest of smiles. He too appeared distraught and grief-stricken by the recent turn of events.
