by Leen Elle
"The cookies aren't very good, I wouldn't even try one." Mrs. Metcalf called over her shoulder as soon as Lilli entered the door.
"They can't be that bad." Lilli dumped in the sugar and began to stir, picking up a cookie while doing so. She bit into it and instantly thought all of her teeth had been shattered. "They are quite hard."
"Oh come now, don't try to swallow, just spit it out, that's what I did." Mrs. Metcalf urged, handing Lilli a napkin.
Lilli took it gratefully and held it up to her mouth to collect the slate like shards from her mouth. Days at Mrs. Metcalf's were always interesting and entertaining. When she expressed a need for help at home once a week, Lilli had jumped at the opportunity. Mrs. Metcalf, while wealthy, was not the most proper woman and Lilli knew it meant an afternoon of freedom. Any afternoon spent away from her mothers watchful, critical eye was a free one in her mind. It was an added bonus that Mrs. Metcalf had agreed to letting her cultivate a victory garden, something her mother saw as ridiculous, filthy, and an admission of being unable to pay for produce.
"I should be getting home now." Lilli sighed after talking with Mrs. Metcalf for over and hour.
"Yes, I suppose you should, you need to check if that soldier of yours has written again." she winked devilishly.
"No," Lilli blushed, "in fact I've decided to stop writing him. His letters make it perfectly clear he's not interested. So I've decided to write him one more time to ask him to stop writing."
"That's a shame dear, he sounded like such a lovely boy the first time you mentioned him."
"He was, I don't know what happened." Lilli admitted sadly.
"The Lord has someone very special for you my dear, just like my Harold. Trust him and all will be well."
"Thank you Mrs. Metcalf."
"No, thank you my dear, for all your hard work and for keeping me company."
"I enjoy our time together, and I think we may have some cherry tomato's next week!"
"Excellent! We'll have to make something special with them. Remember to throw your clothes in the laundry bin for Betty to wash tomorrow."
"Of course, take care Mrs. Metcalf."
Mrs. Metcalf smiled in return then settled back in her chair to enjoy the view of her garden. Lilli returned to the kitchen and cleaned up the mess Mrs. Metcalf had made then went to change in the small downstairs bathroom. She wiggled out of the mud crusted dungarees and pulled off the still clean blue blouse. Her dress was hanging neatly on the hook of the bathroom door, fresh and unwrinkled. Lilli didn't dare go home in her dirty garden clothes, knowing what her mothers reaction would be, nothing seemed to escape her notice.
Once dressed, Lilli slipped out of the front door entering again into the warm sunshine. Mrs. Metalf only lived three blocks from her own home, so the walk was short but enjoyable. The fresh smell of newly cut grass pulled a smile from her lips, reveling in the classic outdoor aroma. Neighbors waved as she passed, she stopped to talk to a few, asking about their families, telling them about her own. All too soon she came upon her own house, the white fence and matching siding gleaming under the sunshine. She stopped at the pale blue mailbox and found, amongst letters to her parents, a letter from Joe.
A heavy sigh pushed up from her lungs, dreading what she would find inside, and what she knew her response would be. Having no experience with men, she had never had to end a relationship , her only relief was that she would be able to do so with pen and paper. She settled on the rocking chair on the shaded porch and broke the seal of the crumpled, yellow envelope. Her throat constricted as she gasped upon seeing three pages inside, crammed writing covering every inch.
May 17, 1943
Dear Lilli,
I can't even begin to describe the comfort your last letter brought me. I smelled the syrup stain for at least an hour, and even now, it's under my pillow so I can smell the faint sweetness of it while I'm sleeping. I wake up thinking my mother is making pancakes downstairs. You probably find me ridiculous, but you have no idea how disgusting the food is here. I've not had anything with sugar since my last meal in the States, they don't even give us sugar for our coffee. I don't mean to complain, in fact, I'm not sure this paragraph had any purpose at all, other than to say I appreciated your letter, which I could have said simply in one sentence.
I wanted to try and answer all of your questions, but forgive me if I've missed one or two. You asked first about my family. I am the eldest of four and am the only boy. I have spent most of my time pre-war protecting my three sisters. Sarah, is next in age after me, she is 21 and a homebody. The only one of us that doesn't love the outdoors, she would much rather be curled up on a couch with an afghan wrapped around her, than outside enjoying the fresh air. Katie is next at 19 and she is my partner in crime. We are always teasing and making fun, or playing around outside. Kate and I have the sense of humor, my mother jokes sometimes that we must share a brain. Annie is the baby at only 16, apparently she is just learning how to drive. She of course, thinks she's a natural, but Kate tells the story entirely different.
Then of course there are my parents. I don't think I could have asked for a better pair to raise me and my sisters. Mom is caring and tender, yet quick to speak her mind. I can't tell you how many times she told me to go wash up because she could see the dirt in my hair, or how often she told me I had acted like a fool in any number of situations. At times, it was annoying to hear her opinion so bluntly, but I always end up being thankful for her honesty. Dad is another creature entirely. Most of the time he's quiet, then suddenly he'll sneak in a zinger and have the whole family clutching their sides.
I think that's what I miss most about being here, the laughter. It's not that the men here don't laugh, it's just a different kind of laughter. Perhaps it's the reason for their laughter that makes it less appealing. Men are amused by entirely different things than the members of my innocent family. But I'll not go any further with that statement.
I am from a small town in Virginia, not too far from the ocean, maybe an hour by train. Actually, I live more outside the small town. My family owns a fruit orchard, five acres of trees which produce the most wonderful variety of fruit. We have a small vegetable garden for our own use and even keep a few animals. 2 cows, 10 hens and 6 horses, one for every member of the family. My horse is Apollo, I got him while we were learning about Greek gods in school, I don't know why, out of all the gods, I picked the one who drives the sun, but, what's done is done. I'm praying that everything is intact when I return home. Kate says that business has been good these days, the war has created more demand for our crops.
Your friend Viv sounds like quite a character! I hope I get to meet her someday when all this ends. I hate to think about you sitting beside your radio set at night, worrying. It is true that the war is difficult and that soldiers are dying in battle, but we all know why we're fighting. I am constantly reminded of the horrors taking place across the German border. We all have to believe that good will conquer evil.
Before I say goodbye, let me settle you on one thing. You are the only girl I am writing to, the only girl I think about and the only girl I'm coming home to. Your letters have captivated me, and your questions should not have gone unanswered so long.
Lilli imagined that her face would have been entertainment to anyone, had they been watching her read the letter. At the sight of the length, her brows furrowed in perplexity, then softened at the description of his family. His explanation of the orchard taunted her lips to curl in a smile and worry passed over her gentle features when he spoke of the war. She nibbled the corner of her bottom lip as he pronounced intentions toward her, then returned to confusion upon finishing it all. His lack of signature caused her to think there was more, but then it became endearing as it felt like less of a letter, and more of a conversation. Perhaps she would continue writing to him after all, he suddenly seemed to care, and so did she.
Chapter 3
June 26, 1943
Dear Joe,
I just rece
ived your letter and I don't even know where to begin! It was completely unexpected! So unexpected in fact, that before opening it I was quite set on asking you to stop writing. I hope you don't think ill of me for such a plan, but you must admit this last letter was quite a bit different from the rest. I felt as if we were in the park, unfolding our life stories, and I feel like I have a better sense of who you are now than I did before, so thank you.
Your family sounds like a great deal of fun. Your sister Kate is my age. I'm not sure if you knew that about me, I'm 19 years old as well. I don't know how old you are either, you declared yourself older than Sarah, so my guess is that you're 23, am I right? I must say I am a bit envious of your family. I am an only child and my parents, especially my mother, are quite proper. Laughter isn't exactly a common occurrence in our house. Mother frowns on anything that impedes self control, even in the smallest way.
She has always been controlling, insisted that I go to an all girls school to complete my education. We are very different she and I, I sometimes find it hard to believe that we're related at all. My father is a great deal easier in his approach to me. He pleads my case to Mother, but she very seldom listens to him. We share secret glances at the dinner table, commenting silently on the newest ridiculous statement she's made. It's not that I don't' love her, I do, and I'm grateful for all she's done for me, well most of it. But I cherish my time out of the house, out from under her scrutiny. It seems that no matter what I do, I am always lacking in some way.
Enough about that, tell me Joe, do you want to continue in your father's footsteps when the time comes, or do you wish to do something else with your life? I know very well that parents dreams do not always match your own. Thank you for being kind enough to answer all of my questions in your last letter, it makes writing to you so much easier. You can feel free to ask me anything you want.
I enclosed a pressed cherry blossom. I know you don't usually send boys flowers, at least, I don't think you do, but I thought since you enjoyed the smell of the syrup so much, I would send you another smell. I thought that maybe you had cherry trees in your orchard, and that this flower might remind you of home. In truth, I have no idea if a cherry blossom smells anything like an actual cherry tree, but at the thought that it might, I wanted you to have it. Please write again soon!
Affectionately,
Lilli
Sam had taken the dried flower out of the envelope with the letter, and had been smelling it while reading. He was so consumed with the letter, and scent that he didn't hear the flap rustling loudly behind him. Before he could do anything, the second page of her letter was ripped from his hands, inflicting a large paper cut across his left palm. He spun on his bed to find Wes grinning mischievously.
"What on earth!" Sam yelped, spinning on his bed. "You gave me a paper cut!"
"Oh, sorry man, just wanted to see what had so much of your attention. A letter from your sister? No, not the right handwriting." His eyebrow raised in confusion, trying to solve the mystery of the unknown handwriting, he turned the page over finding Lilli's delicate signature. "Lilli, who's Lilli? Do you know a person named Lilli? And, since when have you been writing to a girl? You haven't been, and where could you meet one now? We're not exactly in Virginia here, the place is crawling with men!" He snatched the other page from Sam, his eyes immediately connecting with Dear Joe. Sam could see the shock on his face, and winced.
"Didn't you write all of Joe's girls letters more than a month ago? Why would she write a letter after finding out that he's dead?"
Sam sat silently on the bed, waiting for Wes to figure out exactly what he had done, which he figured would only take another minute. Wes' eyes ticked down the page of perfect handwriting, his eyes falling on something that gave it all away. Sam knew immediately that he had found the paragraph that talked about his own sisters.
"Joe doesn't have sisters, why is she writing to Joe about your sisters?" Wes asked, falling onto his bed. "And, Joe's family has a farm, not an orchard, your family has an orchard." Sam looked at Wes guiltily, unable to admit his own actions.
"Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did." Wes' gazed pierced through Sam, making his guilt more evident. "You wrote a letter to one of the girls Joe was writing?"
"Yea..."
"What on earth would possess you to do such a thing?"
"Her letters, they were so...so, incredible."
"Has being here made you stupid?" Wes asked, obviously unable to believe Sam's blunder.
"No, it would have been stupid not to write her."
"You are going to have to explain, because it sounds to me that what you did was pretty stupid. You wrote a letter, to a girl, who was writing to your best friend, who has already met your best friend, who is now dead. You write the letter, as Joe, so she still thinks she's writing to him. You signed Joe's name at the end, pretending to be him. But, when the war is over, and you go to meet this girl, which you will obviously do seeing as you like her so much, she's going to be expecting Joe, and guess what, you don't look a thing like him!" Wes laughed.
"First of all, I didn't sign my name as Joe, I just didn't sign it at all, so technically, she assumed that I was still Joe."
"As she naturally would! Since you didn't mention your own name! Or his death!"
"And second of all I didn't pretend to be Joe in the letter, I was myself, I told her about my family, my life and my opinions."
"Ok, so, when you get to the dock the day we get home, you're going to tell her that you never lied to her, that she just assumed too much, and you think that's going to make things better for her?"
"Well, she might be angry..."
"Might be? I don't know much about women, but I obviously know more than you. She will definitely be angry!" Wes laughed again, unable to control himself. "I just don't understand, why didn't you just write to her that Joe was dead, but ask if you could continue writing to her?"
"What if she had said no? I'm in Europe, fighting in a war that could very well leave me dead, I can't persuade her from here. And she was already irritated by Joe's short letters, why would she trust another soldier, one she's never met?"
"Joe did tend to taint the female opinion of our gender. But, I still don't know what you're going to do when the war ends."
"I'll cross that bridge when and if I come to it. If I meet the same fate as Joe, she won't be any worse off."
"Except that instead of writing to a soldier who doesn't seem to care about her, she's writing to one that is sincerely interested in, one she could fall in love with." Wes added.
"Do you really think she could fall in love with me?"
"Sam, I've known a lot of girls that fell in love with you, trouble was, you weren't interested in any of them. I never really understood why you passed up the chances you had with some of them."
"Something was missing with all those girls, I don't know what it was, but I didn't want to lead them on, especially when I knew I didn't, and wouldn't ever feel the same way toward them. But there's something about her, something about the way she writes, I don't know how to describe it."
"Love at first sight without the sight, I don't think anyone else would believe it." Wes sighed, leaning back onto his palate. "Hey, any letters from your sisters lately?"
"Just got one today."
"Is it from Katie?" he asked, sitting up quickly, an expression of nonchalance forced on his face.
"No, Annie, why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason in particular, Katie's letters are usually the funniest, I like to hear what she says is going on." he sighed, laying back again.
"Ok." Sam looked at him with squinted eyes, not believing a word he said. Wes had always been around growing up, but like Joe, had kept his distance from his sisters. He might have spent more time thinking about his friends strange behavior, if he wasn't excited about reading the letter from Annie. The seal broke loose easily, and he focused his attention on her sloppy, almost boyish handwriting.
June
6, 1943
Hi Sam!
Guess what? Well, first of all, the guess what game isn't very much fun on paper. I suppose I could leave you in suspense, making you guess in your next letter to me, and then I could say, nope, guess again, but then it could take months to figure it out! I'm far to excited to wait months to tell you, so you're off the hook. Daddy let me drive the truck! I only stalled six times in a half an hour drive, pretty good huh? By the time you're home, I'll be a real pro.
Not much else has happened here, oh Jack Bernard asked me to go to the dance with him, but I said no. I told him that I didn't wear dresses for anyone, least of all him. I still remember when he peeked up my Easter dress, the one year Mommy actually got me to wear one. I remember you chased him into the woods and told him you'd throw him in the lake if he so much as breathed in my direction again. If you were still home, I don't think he would have asked me at all, I know he's still scared of you. I miss you Sam.
We all miss you. Dinner just isn't the same without Mommy yelling at you for having your elbows on the table. Kate will be about to say something, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, her mouth half open, words on her tongue. But then, she looks over at your empty chair, closes her mouth and shrinks into her chair. I hope that doesn't make you sad. That's not why I wrote it, I just wanted to give you an example of us missing you. Mrs. Keith, my English teacher this year, says that examples strengthen the main point of papers. I hope my example strengthened my main point, us missing you.
Sarah started cooking, Mommy is letting her try her hand at desserts. They're horrible! Yesterday she made pecan tarts and they tasted like dirt! It's a good thing I have a chocolate stash in my bedroom. Just something to look forward to when you get home, which I hope is soon!
Love,
Annie
Chapter 4
July 12, 1943
"Lillian, there is a letter down here for you!" Mrs. Windsor called up the stairs. Lilly rolled her eyes at the sound of her full name and continued to rush around her small bedroom, getting ready for her day. She was supposed to be at the O'Connors in half an hour. Despite her urge to race downstairs and snatch up the letter, she tied the purple ribbon in her hair carefully, then slipped her small feet into her most comfortable shoes.
