Love Finds You in Branson, Missouri

by Gwen Ford Faulkenberry

  Here Will seemed so mournful Ellie wanted to cry, to release some of the pain she saw on his face. She knew he was reliving something. Something very bad. It was like he was watching a movie in his head, scanning through images.

  Will shook his head. “There’s no need for all of the details.” He took in a deep breath. “Ellie, we went back to our hotel, got into an argument, and she told me she’d had an abortion the week earlier while I was out of town.” His voice faded to nothing, like all of the air going out of a balloon.

  Ellie sat there, staring at nothing. For her, the silence seemed punctuated—with question marks, exclamation points, and then, as reality soaked in, a period.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she finally said.

  Will jerked his head up and looked at her like she was crazy.

  “I mean,” she began, “of course it matters, and I am so desperately sorry for your pain.” She touched his face carefully. “But it doesn’t make me hate you or not want to be with you.”

  “Really?”

  He leaned his cheek into her palm, closing his eyes as though in prayer. She pulled him to her chest and held him there, caressing his sandy hair and the side of his face with the fingers of her free hand. A tear slid down his cheek, and then another, and Ellie tried to wipe them away. But more came until a rivulet formed, and then the dam broke. Will’s body was racked with sobs.

  Ellie had never seen a grown man cry. Beecher hid most of his emotions, and Opa, though he got teary-eyed over the simplest things, had never shown her the true grief she knew he must have felt from time to time. She sensed that, through his weeping, Will was somehow purging himself of this memory, this death. And though it hurt her too—the truth had cut like a double-edged blade—it honored her to be his witness. As she hugged Will, giving him every ounce of support and care she had to offer, a new sensation swept over her: strength.

  After a long while, Will rose. He went to the guest bathroom, washed his face, and returned to kneel beside where she was still sitting on the couch.

  “I think I ruined your blouse.” He gazed up at her, the clouds gone from his eyes.

  “Snot washes out.” Ellie laughed.

  Will laughed too. “Want to go change while I take Dot outside?”

  “That’s a marvelous idea.”

  She started to get up, but Will stopped her. “Wait a moment. Would you—would you pray with me?”

  He remained kneeling, holding her hand. Ellie bowed her head.

  “Father, thank You for Your infinite love and mercy, and for Your healing. I thank You, also, for this friend You have given me. I pray to be worthy of her and worthy of You, through Jesus. Amen.”

  This time it was Ellie whose cheeks were wet. She squeezed Will’s hand and went toward her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  * * * * *

  When Ellie emerged, she was wearing a powder-blue tie-neck tunic with three-quarter sleeves over her white capris from earlier in the day. Having taken off her shoes earlier around the house, she dug out a pair of white lattice thong sandals with a wedge heel and put them on. She thought she might ask Will to go for a walk after they ate the lasagna, if he was still hungry.

  “Are you ready for dinner?”

  He and Dot appeared at the top of the stairs like old pals. “I am. Actually, I’m starving. It feels like I just emptied my soul.”

  “Well, this is one of my mother’s soul foods. Opa grows the basil, and she pounds it into pesto with a mortar and pestle. She got the recipe from her roommate one summer when she did a college exchange in Rome. They’re still best friends—I call her Zia, meaning ‘Aunt,’ Paola.”

  Will snorted. “Your life could not have been more different than mine.”

  After the lasagna, she served him chocolate mousse with fresh strawberries in stemmed dessert glasses, another of Aunt Paola’s recipes. They decided to save the dishes for after their walk.

  “I don’t have a leash for Dot yet, so I guess we’ll have to leave her here.” Ellie glanced down at her dog, who seemed to mirror her disappointment.

  “I might have something down in Scarlett.”

  They all went downstairs and outside. Dot wandered around the side yard while Will rummaged in his truck and returned with a bright yellow rope.

  “What do you use that for?”

  “I keep it in here for tying stuff down in the back. Think she’ll go for it?”

  “We can try.”

  Ellie called Dot over, and Will gently secured the rope around her neck. “This is a hillbilly dog for sure now, isn’t it?”

  Ellie snickered, but Dot appeared less than impressed. If animals could talk, she’d probably be saying, “Shoot me now, and get it over with.”

  “This is the only way you can go,” Ellie told Dot. “And I don’t want you staying in and peeing everywhere.” Ellie knelt down to pet her new charge on the head. “You acted like you wanted to go with us. So let’s just put on our big girl pants and make the most of it, okay? I’ll get you a new leash tomorrow.”

  They walked together down to the boardwalk, Will holding Ellie’s hand and Ellie holding Dot’s “leash.” They got more than a few looks, but since Will didn’t seem to care less, Ellie decided not to either. Another chance to channel my inner hillbilly, she thought with a not-unhappy sigh.

  Dusk was just settling in over the still waters of Lake Taneycomo. A light breeze kissed the faces of those who walked the boardwalk, blessing them with relief from what would have been a toasty summer night. There were no stars out yet; it was too early. But the sun had melted into mauve and then a dark purple color that washed the mountainside in majesty and spilled over the treetops into the lake like the train of a royal robe.

  Gratitude filled Ellie’s heart, and she sensed that Will felt it too. They were quieter than usual but walked closely and slowly together, just being. In some ways it felt like they had survived a shipwreck and made it to a peaceful island. Everything had changed between them, yet nothing had.

  It was almost dark when they came back to Ellie’s end of the boardwalk at Branson Landing. They stopped to gaze at the lake one last time. Will put his arm around her waist, and she leaned her head onto his shoulder. Neither spoke. They simply listened to the frogs and the rhythm of each other’s breathing for a long time.

  Dot lay down beside Ellie’s feet contentedly. The first star appeared, then another, and soon the sky was smiling down at them—awash in radiant light.

  Chapter Fourteen

  10 March 1887

  Papa is sending Mama, Heidi, and me away. He says it is only for two months. He says it is for Aunt Liesel’s sake, because she has no children and is lonely. He says it will be the perfect opportunity for me to study for the teacher exam. He says the change of scenery will be good for us. He says this way he won’t have to worry while he is gone out of town to work. He says all of these things, and I suppose they are true enough, but I know the real reason. There is not enough money or food for us to survive while he is gone. The last crop failed, and we are at the end of our food stores. So he is leaving with a group of men from the village to work on the railroad, and we are going to stay with Uncle Robert and Aunt Liesel in Branson.

  Uncle Robert is Mama’s brother. He owns a prosperous lumber mill in Branson. He and Aunt Liesel are very dear, and I do look forward to seeing them again. But the dark cloud of my family’s financial predicament looms over me like a coming storm.

  I heard Mama crying in her room last night when she thought I was asleep. She whispered softly, but I heard her pleading, “What shall we do, Friedrich? I never thought we’d have to break up our family.”

  My papa said, in his most soothing voice, “It’s only for a little while, my love. I am most fortunate to have a chance with the railroad. And after that, we must trust the Lord to provide.”

  29 April 1887

  Richard Heinrichs came today, as he has come almost every day in the past month, to take me riding in his carriage. There
were two days he did not come—he was out of town—and I surprised myself by missing him. We do a great deal of talking while we ride.

  At least I talk. He’s rather quiet, but asks me a lot of questions. At first I didn’t know how to answer, but I have become more comfortable with him on these trips. I even think of him now as a good and solid friend.

  It is only when I imagine him as more than a friend—a beau, as people in town have begun to say—that I become unsettled inside. I still have no idea of what one should feel for a person like that. Perhaps while I’m in Branson I will be able to figure it out. I definitely need some time away from Richard to think about what happened today.

  The ride began like normal. He gave me the reins as soon as we pulled away from my house. (I have become quite good with the horses.) When we came to his land, however, he asked me to walk with him awhile, so we stopped the buggy and walked up to the crest of a hill that looks out over the Missouri River. While squirrels and chipmunks scampered nearby, we rested in the shade of giant oaks, which stood like sentinels over the silver-green water so far below us. Wild poppies—my favorite flowers—bloomed at our feet.

  I told him I was going away for a while and he seemed shocked, even saddened. I told him Papa was going to work on the rail for a while to make money and explained about Uncle Robert and Aunt Liesel in Branson. richard offered to make my father a loan and I told him he must never say that—Papa is such a proud man.

  Then Richard Heinrichs did something strange. He took one of my hands in his and held it tight. Then he looked into my eyes so long I was actually afraid that he might kiss me! (I have no idea what I would have done had he tried.) He said, “Elise, you must know how I feel about you. I want you to come back from Branson and be my wife—all of this you see will be yours—ours—together.”

  His eyes were kind and almost wistful as he spoke. I have never seen him look just as he did, so vulnerable and small in contrast to his usually confident bearing. I wish I could have known what to say to put his heart at ease. But panic overtook me. All I could say was, “Richard, you must take me home.”

  When we got back to the carriage, he drove. I sat beside him in silence like the first time we ever rode together. It was as if his proposal hung in the air between us. I got out as soon as we drove up in the yard, not waiting for him to assist me.

  “Ellie?”

  The ringing phone had broken her concentration—the deep concentration it took for her to translate Elise’s story from German.

  “Mom! Hi! How are you doing?” She set down the book.

  “I’m fine. But I miss you—Opa and I both do. We were just talking about it. How are you? What are you up to?”

  “Mom, you’ll be so proud. I’m reading Great-great-grandma’s diary.”

  “Oh! I am proud. So you like it, huh?”

  “Have you read it?”

  “It’s been a long time.” Katherine sounded tired.

  “Do you remember it? It’s so awesome. I can’t believe how cool it is.”

  “Is she in Branson yet?”

  “Huh?” Ellie realized what her mother meant. “Oh, I’m just coming to that part. She’s getting ready to leave.”

  “Oh…then you’re just now getting to the good part.” “What do you mean?

  What happens to her in Branson?”

  “No way. I’m not going to tell you. You’ll have to hammer out some more of that German to find out.” Ellie sensed Katherine’s smile through the phone.

  “You are such a taskmaster.”

  “What about you? What’s happening to you in Branson? Do you still hate it there?”

  “Well…” Ellie wasn’t sure where to go with her answer.

  “Ellie? Tell me everything.”

  “I got a dog.”

  “A what?”

  “A dog. A little stray followed me while I was running, and I did everything I could to find the owner but didn’t get any leads. So now she’s curled up here by me in the chair.”

  “Is that what I hear? It sounds like someone snoring.”

  “That’s Dot. Will says she’s a Boston Terrier.”

  “Oh, Will says that, huh.” Katherine grabbed onto that detail. “Well, that’s wonderful. What else does Will say?”

  “A lot, actually.”

  “Honey—you’re making this very difficult for your mother.”

  Ellie laughed. “Mom, I don’t know what to tell you. He’s wonderful, and things are moving kind of fast, and I don’t even know where it’s all going, but I think I may be falling in love.” There. She’d said it.

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Then Katherine spoke, measuring her words. “Wow. I sure didn’t see this coming, did you?”

  “No. It was the furthest thing from my mind. And he’s my director; it’s just crazy.”

  “How is all of that working out?”

  “Mom, this is one of the things you’d love about him. We were trying to figure out how to handle things. Neither of us wanted to to sneak around, but we felt weird about it too. Then he said, ‘You know what? I’m going to talk to my boss. We need to face this head on.’ And he did. His boss was okay with it, so that’s a load off for both of us.”

  “I see.”

  “But that’s only one example of how he seems to be about everything. We had this huge talk a few nights ago. He wants to be totally honest and open in our relationship.”

  There was a pause from her mother’s end of the line. Then, “That sounds good to me. I just don’t want you going too fast and getting hurt.”

  “There’s something else about him that’s really different—from anyone I’ve ever dated, I mean.”

  “The church thing?”

  “Yeah. I know I told you about that. But it’s really more than church—I’m starting to see that it’s everything he does. Everything he is.”

  “What do you mean?” Katherine sounded wary.

  “It’s the little things, I guess, but he’s always praying, and talking about God—but it’s not a fake thing or something that makes you uncomfortable. It’s like God is his friend. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Well, you and Beecher are pretty critical when it comes to that stuff. I can’t imagine you with a religious fanatic.”

  Ellie snorted.

  Katherine continued, “But if Will hasn’t become the butt of your jokes yet with his spiritual talk, maybe he is the real thing.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “I’d love to meet him.”

  “When are you coming to Branson?” Ellie suddenly missed her mother.

  “You know we’ll be there on opening night, but Opa and I were thinking of coming sooner just to see you and do a few things for the winery. Would that be good? Is the guest room open this weekend?”

  “It’s totally open. That would be awesome.” She could hear Opa saying something in the background.

  “Opa says we’ll take you and Will out to dinner Friday.”

  “Okay, wonderful. I’ll see if he’s available.”

  “Sounds good. See you in a couple of days.”

  “I love you, Mom. And tell Opa.”

  “I will. I love you too.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Beecher Heinrichs sat behind his desk, sipping his first cup of coffee of the morning. It was a taste of the good life, the life he’d designed for himself in this cosmopolitan city. He enjoyed looking out of his office window, as it constantly reminded of the reasons he fell in love with Munich from the first day he moved here.

  The law firm where he worked occupied the top two floors of the Fünf Höfe, a swanky complex situated in the heart of Munich that offered spectacular views over downtown. Looking one direction he could see the looming green onion-shaped domes of the Frauenkirche—the tallest church in Munich and defining point of its skyline.

  Just below the domes, Munich hummed with life. Beecher liked to observe the morning bustle of locals and tourists on Marienplatz, the city ce
nter of Munich where the picturesque Rathaus, Munich’s Town Hall, sat. From another direction he could see the Residenz Hofgarten, the gardens of the historic Bavarian palace which was now a museum.

  Setting down his cup, Beecher rose from the chair behind his desk and stretched his long legs. He walked over to his office window and stood in the sun. Its rays filtered through the glass and warmed him, highlighting the gold in his bronze-colored hair. His eyes were blue and clear like his mother’s and Opa’s, and they hurt when they took in light. He squinted, therefore, and gazed out at the bell tower to Frauenkirche, which was pealing forth its regal chimes. They sounded lonely this morning, farther away and more hollow than usual. Beecher thought about the architect of the church and his supposed deal with the devil. What a story. He was glad nothing in Munich would ever be taller than those bulbous domes.

  Beecher shifted his weight. From a certain angle he could see, in the corner of the museum gardens, an oak tree soaring high into the air, with a patch of blue sky behind it. Somehow this tree, this patch of sky brought him comfort. An unfamiliar feeling was settling over him this morning. Homesickness.

  The sort of mind Beecher had, not by conscious effort but by instinct combined with force of habit, searched about for a reason for this condition. Like a spider throwing threads of silk, he cast thoughts outward, seeking a source where one would catch hold, and from that anchor he could begin to construct a web. It was in this manner Beecher usually began to analyze and then make reasonable sense of his feelings.

  He thought first of his family. He was deeply connected to his mother and sister and Opa, to be sure. It was logical that he missed them and that could account for the homesickness he was experiencing. Yes, perhaps that was it. Opa had not been feeling well, after all. And Ellie was dating someone new—someone who seemed to have potential. Beecher wanted to meet him and form his own opinion.