The Letters

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  Mim started blinking rapidly. “A Latin phrase: Miracula fieri hic.”

  “Do you have any idea what it means?” Will said.

  “No,” Mim said, her face pinching with worry. “I read it in a book and liked how it looked.”

  Will grinned. “It means ‘a place where miracles occur.’”

  15

  It was starting to become a habit for Jimmy Fisher to appear, magically, right at suppertime at Eagle Hill. Rose always invited him to stay and, of course, he always accepted.

  Tonight, about the time Jimmy was due, Bethany pinched her cheeks for extra color. She peeked out the kitchen window and saw him approaching, one hand on Luke’s shoulder and the other on Sammy’s, steering them along the path from Galen’s. Clearly, they had gotten into some kind of mischief over at Galen’s. It was written on their faces. She hurried out to the porch and scowled at them before sending them in to wash up for supper.

  “Those two boys are headed down a dangerous and slippery path,” Jimmy said. “They pay me no mind.”

  “Join the club.”

  Jimmy had his eyes on the road where a news van was parked. The large satellite dish on the roof of the van was facing Eagle Hill. “What’s going on over there?”

  “Something to do with the doctor’s missing wife, who was never missing in the first place. But never mind about that. I need to talk to you about something.” She bit her lip. “Okay. I’ll take it.”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “What exactly is the ‘it’ you’re talking about?”

  “That job at the Sisters’ House.”

  “You’re going to have to interview for it. I’ll certainly put in a good word for you, but they’re persnickety ladies.”

  Well, that was unsettling news. She thought she had the job if she wanted it.

  He sat on the porch step and pulled off his muddy boots, one after the other. “I thought you were happy at the Stoney Ridge Bar & Grill.”

  She gave him her silkiest smile. “I was. I am. I’m just thinking of trying something new.”

  Jimmy rested the heels of his hands against the porch flooring and slanted her his superior look. “Liar.”

  Those blue eyes were much too perceptive. He was right, she was lying. She never lied! Well, hardly ever. Jimmy Fisher had a way of making her say things, do things, that were not herself. “Fine. I lost my job over that tiny little misunderstanding on Saturday night.”

  “From what I heard, it turned into a rip-roaring brawl.”

  Shootfire! How did he always know so much? “Are you going to help me get the job or not?”

  “I’ll do what I can, seeing as how you’re so sweet and polite about it.” Then he smiled at her, a sweet smile this time, and went inside the house like he owned the place.

  Jimmy was an odd fellow, always good-natured and cheerful. His grin was like a flash of light. It was like the sun coming up at dawn; it changed everything.

  When Rose woke early for her walk, she stopped abruptly as she came down the front steps of the porch. She was stunned to see that there was double the number of news vans out front than there had been last night. Hours after the first one showed up yesterday, Eagle Hill was crawling with reporters.

  One reporter had walked right into the house while Rose and Bethany were scrubbing dinner dishes, reached into his black shoulder bag, pulled out a camera that he hung around his neck by a strap, took out a lined notepad, and laid it on the kitchen counter. He looked around the kitchen, squinting, and scratched his chin. “Somebody called the news desk and told him about your bed-and-breakfast. My editor thought it was a good human-interest story for the weekend section, so here I am.”

  Fortunately, Galen happened along to return Luke’s forgotten hat, sized up the situation, and politely escorted the man off the property.

  Then the game commissioner arrived, tracking the eagles that were building a nest on the farm. He shooed reporters farther away and ribboned the farm with yellow caution tape. The reporters camped out across the road and set up to film short clips for the evening news. The Inn at Eagle Hill sign featured prominently in the foreground.

  Rose ordered her family to stay in the house. She was grateful to Delia’s son for being willing to talk to the reporters and the game commissioner, whom he seemed to know. It was baffling—all that had happened in the last few days. When Monday morning arrived, she had thought she was facing a typical week. The children went to school. Vera complained about Rose’s housekeeping. Luke came home from school with a note from the teacher that he had done something foolish. Nothing unusual in any of that.

  Suddenly, her house was surrounded by predators. All because a woman with a famous husband needed a little time to herself.

  Delia had offered to leave right away, but Rose wouldn’t hear of it. God had brought her to Eagle Hill for healing. Rose was sure of that now, and she didn’t want to see her leave until she was good and ready to go. No doubt, she told Delia, the reporters would move off as soon as another story broke.

  But that was before one of the reporters translated the Latin saying about miracles that Mim had painted on the Inn at Eagle Hill sign. The story grew bigger. And bigger. It had been picked up on the internet, Bishop Elmo told her last night, when he dropped by with a brush and paint and politely asked her to remove that Latin saying. With every news account, the Inn at Eagle Hill became more peaceful, more beautiful. A place where miracles abounded. Ready for the picking, like ripe cherries on a tree.

  On this morning, Wednesday, the reporters were still staked out on the road, so Rose went the other way, toward Galen’s property. Usually, Chase liked to come along with her, but he was sleeping in Mim’s room—probably curled up right on her bed—and she didn’t want to disturb them. She took a hillside path that her boys had carved and stood at the top to take in the sight. The air was so crisp and clear that the rising hills in the distance weren’t layered, but alone and separate.

  Rose relied on these quiet moments. She needed to get off by herself and listen to the sounds of the country, to pray and to think. She was accustomed to feeling pressed from dawn till dark, bound in by the small but constant needs of others. Not until she felt fortified again—felt that she could lead the family—would she return to the farmhouse.

  Here, high in the hills, she could relax and pay attention to other sounds. There were sounds, she thought, that belonged just to early morning. The country talked quiet: one human voice could drown it out, particularly if it was a voice as loud as Luke and Sammy. On a still day, those boys could be heard at least a mile, even if they were more or less whispering.

  A mourning dove called in the distance, and somewhere in a nearby tangle of bushes, its mate trilled out a reply. The eastern sky was red as coals in an oven, lighting up the hillside. She watched the process happily, knowing it would only last a few minutes. The sun spread reddish-gold light over the trees, making them look like they were on fire. It would be gone soon, and the day would begin. A sunrise was tribute enough to the glory of God.

  She saw Galen on the far side of the hill, rifle tucked under his arm. She waved and called out to him. “Any luck?”

  At the sound of her voice, he turned, spotted her, waved, and crossed over to meet her. “He was in the trap.”

  What a relief! She would sleep easier without that mournful howl of the coyote. At least one thing in this day was starting out right. She tilted her head. “Galen, just how old are you?”

  He looked surprised. “Thirty-one. What’s that got to do with a coyote?”

  She grinned. “Just wondered.”

  He took a step closer to her. “So how old are you?”

  “Thirty-six. Thirty-seven come August.”

  He whistled two notes, one up, one down. “Practically ancient. Closing in on Vera’s age.”

  Rose smirked. “Well, I hope I am not that ornery.”

  “No. There’s a difference between strong coffee and bitter medicine.”

  She lau
ghed out loud. “Galen King, you are a sore trial and a wonder. Both.” Then he held her gaze and she blushed.

  Galen was not as handsome as black-haired Dean, but there was something about him. In so many ways he was gruff and abrupt, but in his way with Rose, he was always gentle and she could always count on the truth from him. A true friend. “Remember when I told you the eagles’ nest would be a blessing to us?”

  He nodded.

  “The police chased those reporters off the property and warned them to stay away because the game commissioner complained that they would disturb the eagles. So . . . blessing number one.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “Number one?”

  “Yes. Something about those eagles choosing our home makes me feel blessed. A sign that God is with us.”

  “But God is always with us, Rose, whether we think it or not.”

  “Yes, but sometimes it’s nice to have a reminder.”

  A blast of cold wind came over the ridge and Rose shivered. Galen reached out and adjusted the collar of her coat—Dean’s old coat. Warm, callused hands brushed against her neck as he pulled up the collar and straightened it. “I won’t let you chill.” He rumbled the words in a soft, deep voice.

  Rose lowered her gaze. “I’d better get down the hill in case Vera is ringing her bell.” On the way down the hill, she pressed her hands to her fiery cheeks. How could such a simple gesture feel so intimate?

  Galen felt uncertain. He exhaled a deep breath as he watched Rose hurry down the hill. He tried to reason out what had just happened. His heart was pounding like a teenager’s, an odd staccato that echoed in his ears.

  It troubled him that Rose skittered off just now like a frightened cottontail. He thought of what Jimmy Fisher had scolded him about recently—that the more he stayed apart, the more his presence made folks nervous.

  “It’s hard for normal people to relax around you, Galen,” Jimmy had said. “You’ve never been relaxed yourself, so you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  The last few months, he felt as if he had been missing something in life.

  His wants had always been simple. When his mother passed, and then his father was called home, he willingly took on the mantle of seeing his younger siblings to adulthood. He never resented that obligation. He was a man who felt responsibility keenly. He took great satisfaction in his work as a trainer of Thoroughbreds. It was challenging, interesting, and useful to the community. And sometimes, on a warm summer afternoon, he did like to catch a couple of cooperative fish, griddle size.

  Was that enough? It had been. It used to be.

  Sometime during lunch recess, when the students were playing a game of softball, Danny Riehl left a note in Mim’s desk. It read “Be at the phone at 5 PM tonight. DR”

  So Mim was at the phone shanty at 4:30. The phone call came in at 5:00 p.m. on the dot.

  “Hello,” she said, waiting to answer until the third ring. She didn’t want to seem too eager. Bethany was always telling her that boys didn’t like overly eager girls.

  “Hello,” Danny said. “You can see the moons of Jupiter tonight. Through my telescope. Around ten. I’ll be there, at the hill behind the schoolhouse, I mean. Then I could walk you home. Or not,” he added quickly.

  Stargazing with Danny Riehl!

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay,” Danny said.

  Then the phone went dead. Danny hung up without saying goodbye. As soon as Mim put the phone back in its receiver, the phone rang again.

  She waited for the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Goodbye,” Danny said and hung up.

  There was one bright spot about not having to work at the Stoney Ridge Bar & Grill: Bethany had more time to hunt for Tobe’s books. She had searched the house through, but to no avail. The attic was all that remained. No one ever went into the attic, which probably meant the books were there, hidden beneath cobwebs. She shivered. She hated spiders. Hated mice. But then she cheered up—the books were in the basement up until a month ago, when everything had been shuffled around to make room for the inn. How many spiders could have found those boxes? Surely, not many.

  She took the largest flashlight she could find and climbed the rickety stairs to the attic. Standing in the middle of the attic, she turned in a circle and shined the light on the walls and floor: old furniture, grimy trunks, dusty boxes that had been stacked in place for years. But then the light shined on boxes that looked new. They weren’t dusty, and they had Rose’s handwriting on them. Her heart beat fast. She ripped open the tape on the boxes. Inside were Luke and Sammy’s baby clothes, shoes, some drawings Mim had made in school, a Mother’s Day card signed by Tobe, the first nine-patch quilt square Bethany had made, which looked more like triangles. It was terrible! Why had Rose saved that?

  In the last box was a bundle of letters tied in a blue ribbon, addressed to Rose, written by her father, dated before they were married.

  Tears pricked Bethany’s eyes at the sight of her father’s graceful handwriting. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.

  Taking care, she put the letters back in the box and folded the box top. In her mind, she crossed off one more room on her mental list. Tobe’s books were not in the attic.

  A beam from a thin moon streamed in the window. It fell across Mim’s bed and onto the rug. She lay on top of her bed, fully dressed, until she heard the bongs of the grandfather clock in the living room hit half past nine, then tiptoed downstairs. The house was dark, silent. She grabbed the flashlight her mother kept by the kitchen door before she quietly slipped out, then hurried to the hill behind the schoolhouse. An owl hooted and she stopped short, then laughed silently at herself. She stood for a moment, listening to the saw of the crickets, the gentle purr of the creek, the soft soughing of the wind, and her heart felt full.

  High on the hill behind the schoolhouse, she saw Danny stooped over the telescope, peering through it. She called out to him and he straightened, then waved.

  When she reached him, he stepped back from the telescope so she could peer into it.

  “What am I looking at?”

  “Jupiter. You can see the four moons.”

  She squinted her eye and saw small dots of bright light all in a row and horizontal with the face of the planet. “I think I can see those moons. I actually can!”

  “Those are the same four moons that Galileo saw with his first telescope five hundred years ago. Now scientists know that Jupiter has over a dozen moons, but I can only see the four with this telescope.”

  She stepped away so Danny could have a turn. He peered through the small lens and turned a few knobs on the long tubes of the telescope.

  “All of the moons orbit the planet in the same plane, but at different distances and speed, so each night they’re different. Tonight’s a good night to see them.”

  She gazed up at the dome of the sky. “What’s that bright spot. A star?”

  Danny kept peering through the telescope. “If it’s in the west and it’s lying low, it’s Venus.” He straightened up to see where she was gazing. “Pretty soon, we should be able to see Mars coming up in the east. Mars looks red compared to the brightness of Venus.”

  Here, standing next to Danny in the crisp night air, with the black velvet sky dotted with diamonds, it was hard to feel as if anything could be wrong in the entire world.

  Danny walked Mim all the way back to the end of her driveway, which she thought was very gallant. One more fact to add to her list about Danny Riehl. He was a gentleman.

  They stopped to watch a little bat bounce through the air, taking bugs for his supper.

  “Did you finish writing your vocabulary sentence?” Danny asked.

  It was due tomorrow. Mim had been working at it all week, thinking of it nearly as often as she thought of stars and planets. And Danny. She recited it out loud to him: “The sibilant sound of the snake, eyeing the ort by the porch steps, was drowned out by the pother of my sudorific siblings, who refused to kowtow to dan
ger.”

  “I like it,” Danny said. “It’s very clever and smart. And it succeeds at meaning nothing.”

  That was another true fact to add about Danny. He was incisive. A very incisive boy. It meant smart and insightful. Besides collecting facts, Mim collected words. In the very second when she looked toward him, he looked toward her. Then each turned away.

  “I might be leaving Stoney Ridge,” Danny said, scuffing the ground with the top of his shoe.

  Leaving?

  “Going where? When?” Mim wondered, her eyes bigger than her head. “You don’t mean moving away?” But . . . but . . . but . . . what about me? She felt a pinch of panic in her tummy.

  “My parents are talking about moving to a new settlement. Someplace in the south. My dad’s cousins live there and said there’s lots of good land that isn’t expensive. They want us to come too. My dad wants to go, but my mom isn’t sure.” He bent down to tie his shoe. “One good thing is that it would be close to NASA. That’s the headquarters for astronauts. You can see spaceships and moon rocks if you visit. I’d like to see NASA. My dad said that maybe we could go there sometime.” He straightened and poked his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

  Mim felt another pinch in her tummy. Would Danny still want to be almost-an-astronaut if he saw moon rocks and spaceships? Or would he want to be a full-fledged astronaut?

  Mim walked up the porch steps feeling very droopy, very down in the mouth at the thought of Danny going away. She felt like crying, and her mind was a pinball machine of exasperation with herself, with all of life. She tiptoed upstairs and flung herself into bed, but couldn’t sleep. So she went to the window and opened it, propping her elbows on the sill. She looked out over the farm, listening to the sounds of night, letting her thoughts roam at random.

  She tried to imagine what her mother would say if she told her that Danny, the boy she loved, was going away. If she knew that Danny wanted to be almost-an-astronaut. If he didn’t come back from NASA headquarters, not ever. “You’ll manage,” she could hear her mother say. “Life will go on.”