Dovetail(57)

I find myself thinking about you during the day as I go about my work. You are the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. I count the hours until I can see you again. I thought I was happy before, and I was, but having you in my life has made me happier still in a way I never could have imagined. If this is love, then yes, I feel it too.

Yesterday, in the kitchen, you asked about the title and words of the song I was singing, but we were interrupted before I could explain. The song does not have a title. It is just a little ditty I made up to sing to Daisy. I often write little poems and put them to music. The words to this one go like this: Little, little darling child Sweetest flower, small and wild Fill me with your love and light All my days’ and nights’ delight Nothing will keep us apart You’re always there in my heart You are still my baby girl Dearest one in all the world It is silly, I know, but it pleases her and gives me something new to sing.

Father said that Frank came to the mill and caused quite a ruckus, saying he should fire you, but that they had a talk, and all is resolved now. Pearl is upset that Frank can’t come to the house to visit until after you have gone away, but that is not my concern.

I am already thinking about summer’s end, when you will go away. I do not think I can bear it. The days will seem so empty without you here. I hope you will be willing to write to me when you are away at school. I know you’ll be very busy, but hearing about your days would help to fill the loneliness of my own.

Yours,

Alice





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE





1916


Dearest Alice, There was a time when I had wished this summer would go quickly, but now I would be content to have it last until the end of my days. Before I go to sleep at night, I take out my stack of letters from you and read them over and over again by the light of the kerosene lamp. So many letters, full of your ideas and thoughts, your hopes for the future, and your concerns about the war on the other side of the world, which I assure you will never reach the United States, so you need not worry any longer. The war cannot touch anyone here.

Please believe me when I say you are never dull, my dearest, and each word is etched into my memory. Your letters are what sustains me.

You asked a few weeks ago if we could continue writing after I am back at school. That was only a few weeks ago, but so much has changed in that time. It was then I had confessed my feelings to you, and you told me you felt the same way. I did not think it could get better than that, but now, to hear you call me sweetheart, your voice whispering the word in my ear when no one else is nearby, I know true happiness.

Yours forever, John





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX





1916


In the Bennett kitchen one evening, John was mashing the potatoes on the counter next to the stove. Alice, who’d just finished basting the roast chicken, closed the oven door and began singing to Daisy, who sat in the corner, rocking her dolly. Her voice sang out, sweet and clear, “Little, little darling child, sweetest flower, small and wild.”

John smiled and opened his mouth, his baritone voice joining hers. Together they sang, “Fill me with your love and light. All my days’ and nights’ delight. Nothing will keep us apart. You’re always there in my heart.”

And Alice finished the last two lines: “You are still my baby girl. Dearest one in all the world.”

Daisy beamed the way she did every time Alice sang to her. She set down her dolly to clap when they were done, and John took a slight bow.

Mae and Maude sat at the kitchen table, snapping the ends off fresh green beans from the garden. Mae said, “I have never seen a man do women’s work like you do, John Lawrence. Pearl says men working in the kitchen is for sissy boys.”

John’s laugh filled the room. He said, “You can tell Pearl I don’t believe there’s women’s work and men’s work. Work is work. It needs to be done, and if everyone helps, it’s easier all around.”

Maude held up a green bean. “But you and Father have worked all day already.”

“And so has Alice. Why should I sit idle when I can help?”

“Alice doesn’t mind cooking dinner by herself, do you, Alice?” Maude gnawed on the end of the bean.

“I don’t mind hard work, but I am always happy to have help,” Alice said. “John is setting a fine example for the rest of you. I never have to ask him. He always offers.” She looked around the room, hoping her words would plant a seed of willingness in her younger sisters. Having them come to her with offers of assistance would be very welcome. She did not mind the work, but she grew weary of serving as taskmaster. Barking orders was not in her nature, and her gentle nudges sometimes went unheeded.

John continued with his chore, pushing the potato masher up and down into a large pot. “I have a selfish reason for helping too. I get to listen to Alice’s lovely singing and learn how she cooks such delicious food.” He turned in the direction of the twins. “You had better be careful. I am growing quite fond of your sister. When I leave, I’m tempted to steal her away and take her with me.” He raised his eyebrows, and the twins reacted with indignant expressions.

Alice sucked in a breath, shocked at his boldness. In their letters, both of them had expressed a yearning to be together. Perhaps he thought that since it was so close to the end of the summer, her father would not mind John’s declarations of love toward his eldest daughter, but he was wrong. Her father was, she knew, allowing their stolen glances and John’s flattery because he was sure it would not lead to more. Alice had no idea what he’d do if he discovered their letters and the subtle ways they showed their love: the knowing looks; the way they brushed against each other when they moved about the kitchen; the way John helped her in and out of the wagon, one hand grasping hers, the other firmly against her back. Even the smallest touch filled her with a thrill.