Grabill
“When I went to the mailbox this morning, I found a letter for you from Eleanor,” Doretta’s mother said soon after Doretta arrived home from teaching school.
Doretta smiled. “Oh good. I haven’t heard from my dear friend in a while, and I’ve been wondering how she is doing.”
Mom went to the desk where she kept the mail and handed Doretta the envelope. “It’s always nice to receive mail from a good friend or family member.”
“Jah.” Doretta turned the envelope over and grinned when she noticed that Eleanor had used one of her rubber stamps to put a rose on the back flap. Stamping was a fun hobby, and Eleanor was good at making beautiful cards and decorating notepaper. “I think I’ll take this to my room to read after I change out of my teaching dress. Then I’ll come back downstairs and help you start supper.”
“No hurry,” Mom replied. “In case you weren’t listening, your daed said this morning that he might be working later than usual this evening, so supper might not be at the same time as we normally would have it.”
“I didn’t hear him mention that. Guess I must have been thinking about something else while we ate breakfast.”
There was a glimmer in Mom’s eyes as she gave Doretta’s shoulder a pat. “I have a pretty good idea who you were thinking about too.”
Doretta’s cheeks warmed. “Guess there’s no point in denying it. I was thinking about William.”
“Has he asked you to marry him yet? You’ve certainly been going steady long enough.”
Doretta’s gaze lowered as she shook her head. “I’m beginning to think he may never ask.”
“If he doesn’t, are you prepared to move on if some other nice fellow comes along and takes an interest in you?”
Doretta’s head came up, and the heat in her cheeks deepened. “I’m in love with William, and I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else.” She didn’t understand why her mother felt it necessary to discuss this topic. Was it out of concern or something else?
“How does he feel about you?” Mom questioned. “Has William declared his love too?”
“Jah, he has.”
“Maybe you should bring up the topic of marriage.”
Doretta gasped, shaking her head vigorously. “Oh no, I could never do such a thing. It would be too bold and embarrassing. It might even scare William away.” She hoped her mother would drop the questions about William and move on to a different topic.
“Should I ask your father to have a talk with your boyfriend—find out what his intentions are toward you?”
Doretta’s arm muscles quivered as she made flighty hand movements. “Please don’t do that. It would be humiliating, and William might think that I put Dad up to it.”
Mom slipped her arm around Doretta’s waist. “Now don’t look so worried. I wouldn’t ask your daed to speak to William unless you wanted him to.”
“Well, I don’t. If William wants to marry me, then he will ask in his own good time.” She held up Eleanor’s letter. “That’s enough talk about me and my boyfriend now. It’s time for me to go read my friend’s letter.” Clutching the envelope in one hand, Doretta hurried up the stairs and into her room. At least her mother had promised not to ask Dad to speak to William about a proposal of marriage.
Doretta tore open the letter and read it silently. When she finished, she set it aside and bowed her head. Dear Lord, please give my friend Eleanor a sense of peace today. Guide and direct her in knowing how to help Vic through his struggles, and show her how to be the kind of wife her husband needs. Don’t allow their marriage to suffer because of Vic’s guilt and grief. Instead, please strengthen their relationship and let Vic and Eleanor both feel Your presence every day.
When Doretta opened her eyes, a new realization hit her. The frustration and concern she felt because William had not asked her to marry him was nothing compared to what Eleanor and Vic had been dealing with. Her vision blurred, and she blinked to keep tears from spilling over. I need to be patient and realize that if it’s God’s will for me to marry William, he will propose at the right time. If not, then maybe it’s not meant for us to spend the rest of our lives together as husband and wife.
Lancaster
Vic put his tool belt and lunch box on the floor in the back seat of Tom’s truck and closed the door. “Sure am glad to have this workday over,” he said after climbing into the front of the vehicle.
Tom nodded with a groan. “Yeah, it was a tough one all right, and I’m glad to be heading home. It was kind of hard to keep a good attitude today when the owners of the new house we’re building kept asking to make changes.”
“You’re right, and there were a lot of them.” Vic stretched both arms over his head. “You know what I could use right now?”
“A vacation?”
“I’d like to stop somewhere so we can have a few beers.” Vic lowered his arms and exhaled the deep breath he’d taken in. “Guess a vacation wouldn’t hurt either.”
Tom’s eyes widened, and he blinked a few times, as if trying to process what Vic had said. “Are you serious?”
Vic gave a decisive nod. “I need something to help me relax, and after the way things went today, I’m sure you do too.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you were opposed to me drinking while driving.”
“I—I was, and I still am, but if you don’t have more than two drinks, you’ll probably be okay to drive. You didn’t have a problem the last time you did it, remember?”
“Yeah, and I’ve done it plenty of times when you haven’t been with me.” Tom glanced over at Vic briefly. “Where do you want to stop for the beers?”
Vic shrugged. “Beats me. I figured you’d probably know some of the good taverns and pubs in Lancaster.”
“I admit, I’ve been to a few. Molly’s Pub on East Chestnut Street is good, and so is the Lancaster Brewing Company on North Plum Street. Either of them would probably be fine, but I know a bit more about the Brewing Company, since I’ve been there more often.”
“What do you know about it?”
“I read on the internet that they have an obsessive commitment to quality ingredients with skill and experience to brew great ales and lagers.”
“Okay, that sounds impressive.” Vic smacked his lips in anticipation. “Let’s go there and see if they live up to their commitment and skill.”
“I’m on it.” Tom turned his right blinker on at the next corner.
Paradise
Two hours later, when Tom stopped his truck at the entrance of Vic’s driveway, Vic turned to him and said, “Thanks for stopping off for the beers, and for the lift home again. They had some pretty good beer, and I wouldn’t mind going there again sometime.”
“Sure, no problem. Oh, and if you’ll let me know when you need some more beer to have here, I’ll pick some up for you.”
“Sure, but I’ll have to be careful bringing it in so my wife doesn’t see it.”
Tom’s brows nearly squished together. “She doesn’t know you’ve been drinking?”
Vic shook his head. “Not since the night I came home drunk. The next morning I promised Eleanor that I wouldn’t drink again, so I’ve been keeping the beer you got for me in the barn, up in the hayloft.”
“Friend, if you’re not careful, you might end up like me.”
“In what way?”
“Wifeless.”
“That’ll never happen,” Vic stated firmly. “Eleanor loves me, and getting a divorce is not an acceptable option among the Amish. Although,” he added with a frown, “there have been a few Amish I know of who left the church and decided to divorce their spouse.”
“Do you think your wife would ever leave the church and put a permanent end to your marriage?”
“No way, and I don’t plan on leaving or getting a divorce either.” Vic stepped down from the truck and took his tool belt and lunch box from the back. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Sure thing.” As soon as Vic shut the truck door, Tom took off down the road. Vic began to walk toward the mailbox, thinking how nice it had been at the pub. At least he hadn’t noticed any familiar faces coming in or going out. He wasn’t sure, however, with him being Amish, if it may have left a lasting negative impression on the bartender who worked there. It wasn’t a normal sight to see a Plain person out in public drinking beers. Maybe I’m overthinking this, Vic told himself.
Vic checked the mailbox but found nothing. He assumed Eleanor must have gotten the mail already. Pausing before heading up the driveway, he reached into his pocket for a package of gum but found none.
“This is not good,” he mumbled. I must have forgotten to put some mint-flavored gum in my pocket this morning before leaving for work. I’ll need to make sure not to get close to Eleanor, or she’ll be able to smell my breath and know that I’ve been drinking.
Eleanor felt relieved when she heard the rumble of Tom’s truck outside. Vic was later than usual this evening, and she always worried when he didn’t get home on time. Accidents could happen at any time, but even more so during the after-work traffic, when people were in a hurry to get home.
Eleanor watched from the front room window as her husband exited the vehicle. He’d headed right to the mailbox. Normally, she was the one who would go for their mail each day, and it seemed a little odd for him to do it.
As usual, their supper was in the oven, keeping warm. Tonight Eleanor had made a tangy meatloaf and baked potatoes, so she was eager to say hello to Vic and put their meal on the table.
Eleanor went to the front door and opened it to greet her husband. Checkers was by her side, tail wagging and poised to greet his favorite human.
When Vic came up the steps carrying his tool belt and lunch box, Eleanor stepped out onto the porch. “I’m glad you’re home.” She opened her arms for a hug, but he breezed right past with his head turned away from her. She followed him into the house, and Checkers, who had come back in also, began nipping at Vic’s boot laces.
“Knock it off!” Vic shooed the dog away and then set his stuff on the floor.
“Vic, I was hoping for a hug and a kiss.” Eleanor moved toward him again and was disappointed when he took a few steps back. “What’s wrong, Vic? Why are you pulling away from me? Aren’t you glad to be home?”
“Sure, I just …” He dropped his gaze to the floor.
“You just what?” Eleanor slipped her arms around his waist and went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It was then that she detected a sickening aroma—she remembered it well from the night Tom had brought her husband home, too drunk to stand on his own. She sniffed deeply and frowned. “Have you been drinking, Vic?”
“No, I … uh … You see, Tom had a beer after work, and he spilled some. I think a little of it may have gotten on my clothes.”
Her jaw clenched. “The odor I smell is coming from your breath, not your clothes.”
Vic averted his gaze, and Eleanor noticed that a film of perspiration had quickly formed on his forehead. “I’d appreciate it if you were truthful with me, Vic.”
He stood with his arms folded, staring at the floor. “Okay, I admit it—Tom and I stopped at a place in Lancaster for a couple of beers.” He looked up at her with a somber expression. “Don’t look so worried. It’s no big deal. I am not drunk, and I don’t see anything wrong with having a few beers now and then to help steady my nerves.”
Before she could form a response, Vic rushed on. “Tom and I had a rough day at work, and we both needed to relax, but I’m not going to make a habit of it, so you have nothing to worry about.” He bent down and scratched his dog behind the ears. “Right now, I’m going to go take a shower and change into clean clothes. When I come out, will supper be ready?”
“It’s ready and waiting to be served. And Vic, I am not happy with the way you’re making light of this. You said you were not going to drink alcohol again.”
Scrambling for the right words, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I hope you will forgive me.”
“I’ll forgive you, but I hope you will not do it again.”
“I won’t. So can supper wait till I get my shower?” Vic asked, in need of a topic change.
“Jah, we’ll eat when you’re done.” Eleanor gestured to the stove. “It’s keeping warm in the oven and has been for a couple of hours.”
“Great. I’ll be back soon and we can eat.”
Vic disappeared down the hall, and Eleanor retreated to the kitchen. She saw Checkers lying by the table and felt the need to reach down and pet him. While doing this, the dog looked up at her with his soft brown eyes. It felt as though Vic’s dog could almost feel her pain. Eleanor spoke in a whisper: “I don’t want to feel sad, but it’s hard not to with everything that’s been happening around here.” Her throat hurt so badly from holding back tears that she could hardly swallow.
Eleanor moved away from the dog and went to the refrigerator to get out the iced tea. After pouring some into her husband’s glass, she filled her glass too. Eleanor took a long drink, and the coolness soothed the discomfort in her throat. She had begun to wonder if her husband was even capable of keeping his promises. If he continued to drink, would he deny it again, or would Vic be honest with her?