Maude's Trials (Widows of Virginia #1)(14)

I’ll thank him for everything that he has done. Tell him how blessed I was for receiving support from him after so many years. Maybe even mention how his poetry… No. Laura shook her head. I shouldn’t encourage him.

She looked up at Anton’s picture, and her heart swelled again. She took a deep breath and dipped the quill in the jar of ink.

The words did not pour easily out of her so Laura was relieved to hear Susan call her for dinner. She hid the letter inside the drawer before joining her friend - and only family - for the meal.

“You’re quiet today.” Susan took another sip of the stew while Laura stirred a spoon in her bowl. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“Must be the weather…” Laura fished out a piece of potato and let it melt in her mouth. “The food is delicious, as always, it’s just-I’ve got a queasy stomach.”

Susan frowned, obviously not convinced that it was Laura’s stomach that was causing trouble. She probably thought it was Laura’s queasy heart…

But she did finish half the bowl before retiring to her room once again.

When morning came, Laura left for her shop as usual, but on the way she made a detour. She stopped by the postal office and as she stood in the queue her heart raced. Was everyone staring at her? Would they whisper about her letters by the late afternoon? Finally it was her turn. For a moment she hesitated before stepping forward. With a shaking hand she pulled out the envelope and handed it to the man on the other side of the counter.

She left the post office in a hurry and went straight to church. Had she made the right choice? His wise words had always given her strength before, still even writing that letter felt like a betrayal of Anton. Laura looked around the empty building save for the two people lighting candles near the dais. Glad for the privacy she slipped into one of the pews towards the back and prayed. Her hands trembled when she brought them together. The last time she was here, she was tempted to curse the Lord for her husband’s death. But now...

*

Laura bent down to pull a stubborn weed out of the ground. She liked to garden every Sunday morning. She would cultivate the vegetables that she and Susan grew at the back of the house and keep the beds free from weeds. Cleaning out the weeds helped her clean out her mind before going to church later in the day.

Three weeks had passed by without a word from Robert. Laura’s hope flickered like a candle in a strong storm, weak and about to go out any minute, the newfound vigor from before slowly left her.

Robert might have thought that she assumed too much. Maybe she sounded like a pathetic and needy woman. Her thoughts became more absurd by the day. What if he misinterpreted what she’d been trying to say? She just needed him to know how much she appreciated his letters and that his words encouraged her to find reasons to go on.

“Looks like Robert hadn’t thought of anything nice to write to you.”

Laura stood up to take a break and glanced over her shoulder at Susan sweeping dead leaves off the porch. “Huh?”

“Did you finally tell him to stop?” Susan continued. “I heard you went to the post office some weeks ago. Was the letter for him?”

“Yes, it was for him,” Laura answered, fists clenched tightly around the shovel. “I figured it was time to thank him for his support.”

Silence followed. Susan swept the leaves into a small heap. “How nice.”

Laura dropped the weeds on the compost pile.

“Would you like some water?” she said heading inside the house. Susan just shook her head in reply.

Her friend had been colder and more silent the last few weeks, their conversations barely progressing beyond niceties during meals. Was it her, or was it Susan? Laura drank some water in the kitchen and then went to the living room. She sat on a chair facing the window to let her back rest for a few minutes.

What could she say to repair her friendship with Susan? Ever since Robert had sent her letters, Susan had distanced herself, as if it meant she and Laura weren’t family anymore. She thought back to how everything around the house and in town reminded her of Anton. Was she such a reminder for Susan? Was her very presence making her friend’s life miserable?

Something moved outside the window distracting Laura’s trail of thought. A moment later someone knocked on the door.

Laura wiped her hands on her apron. Who could it be? They weren’t expecting any guests. Was it the mailman? Had Robert replied?

She reached the door and opened it expecting to see a familiar face. But as she laid eyes on the visitor her breath stilled and she froze in place. Unable to say a word she gaped at the man standing on the porch.

“Hello, Laura,” said Robert.