Epilogue

 

 

A few months after the wedding, Myrtle Napier received a letter in the mail with several post marks and stamps covering the envelope. The oldest mark was in French. She opened it and read:

 

“Dear sister,

I was quite shocked to hear of your plans to move across the country. In addition, it’s for a man you don’t even know! I hope for your sake that you know what you are doing. I shouldn’t have to tell you that the western territories are exceedingly dangerous. The following should go without saying, but I shall say it nonetheless.

If you should find this strange man to be wholly unbearable, or if the western territories prove too much for your sensibilities, I urge you to join me in Paris. You may draw upon my credit at Seymour and Sons in Philadelphia.

If it is adventure that is lacking from your life, you may find it in Europe just as well as you can in America.

With love, your brother, Benjamin Landis.”

 

 

Myrtle laughed to herself as she set the letter down on her desk. She thought a moment, and then took out a piece of stationary and blotting paper.

 

 

“Dear brother,” she wrote, “Have I got some news for you…”

She was interrupted by footsteps behind her. John’s arms wrapped around her. He kissed the side of her face.

“I was thinking…” he said.

“Oh, I know how dangerous that can be,” Myrtle said.

John laughed.

“I’m serious, Myrtle, I was thinking…about Samuel. Eh?”

“Hm…and what if it’s a girl?” Myrtle asked.

“Oh that’s up to you, I am terrible with girl names.”

“Norma?” Myrtle suggested.

“Well…”

Myrtle laughed. “I’m kidding, John. I have always been fond of Elizabeth, or Susan.”

John inhaled the scent of her hair.

“I suppose we have time to think,” he said. “What are you writing?”

“A letter to my brother…but it can wait,” Myrtle said.

She turned around so she could face John. He kissed her forehead.

“Myrtle Napier,” John said, smiling, “you make me happy.”

“You’re just saying that because you like my blackberry pies,” Myrtle teased.

John shrugged. He took her by the hands and lifted her up so he could hug her.

“I do love those pies…” he said.

They held each other, rocking gently back and forth, the letter from Myrtle’s brother completely forgotten.

 

 

THE END