Part 10 (1/2)
”Does Ruth have any family left here?”
”No, she only had a mother. She never knew her father; he left before she was born. Iris, her mother, died, soon after we got married. I often thought things might have worked out differently if her mother had lived. If she had known William. Iris had a way of...helping Ruth remain steady...and when she died, Ruth lost that anchor.”
Dare I ask him one more question? I just had to. ”You never heard from Ruth again?”
He took another deep breath and exhaled. ”The last I heard from Ruth was when I received a package of signed divorce papers her lawyer in Phoenix sent to me. I sent them back to the lawyer, signed in return, just as she wanted. I don't even know where she is.” He paused and gazed at the crackling fire. ”Or with whom.”
We sat in silence for a long moment. Then I said, ”Do you remember the first chess game we played? When I told you about my father? And you said you were sorry. Now I'm the one who is sorry.”
”Louisa, don't you despise those n.a.z.is who killed your father?”
”I realized I could not have hatred and Christ living in my heart. One would have to go; they couldn't exist together. I chose Christ.”
He stood up and walked over to the fireplace, putting one hand on the mantel. ”You make it sound so easy.”
”It's not. I think forgiving someone who doesn't even care if you forgive them is the hardest thing in the world. There are many mornings when I wake up and the bitterness has seeped back into my soul like a toxin. Then I have to start all over again to re-forgive the n.a.z.is in Germany. Only with G.o.d's help am I able to do so.”
I watched him for a while. I could tell he was lost in his memories, so I stood up to say good night.
”Louisa?” He kept his head down. ”Pray for me?”
”Of course.”
William and I were in the library one afternoon when I recognized someone whom I had seen a few times before. At first, I thought she was a child, head bowed earnestly over a picture book, but when I watched her more carefully, I realized she was a young woman.
Tiny, delicate, yet she already looked world-weary. Like the times I had seen her before, she sat alone in a corner in the children's area, looking intently at picture books. Obviously, she was hoping to go unnoticed, but her hair made her hard to ignore. Bright red curls. As William settled into his routine of gathering books, I went over to her.
She didn't notice me, but I heard her sounding out words. ”Go g-e-t the b-b-a-ll,” she whispered to herself, her finger running along the simple text.
”h.e.l.lo.” Without meaning to, I startled her.
She looked up at me and quickly started to pack up to leave.
”Don't leave. I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Louisa.” I held out my hand to her.
She looked at me as if she had never known been offered a hand before. Then, without looking at my eyes, she shook it. Her hand felt so fragile, like it might break if I squeezed too hard.
”What's your name?” I asked.
”Glenda.”
”It looks as if you're teaching yourself to read. That's hard work.”
Again, she lowered her eyes. Her cheeks began to turn pink.
”Please don't be embarra.s.sed. I think it's wonderful! In fact, I wondered if I could help you. William and I-that's William over there-come here nearly every day at this time.”
”No. Thank you for the offer, ma'am. That's not necessary.”
”Actually, Glenda, you'd be doing me a favor. William is deaf, so I'm working on ways to teach him to read. If I could help you, too, then you'd be giving me some practice. I could really use the practice. I'm new at this.”
That strategy worked. The three of us sat in the corner and went over a few picture books with simple vocabulary. For William, I said the words and had him repeat them back to me. For Glenda, I helped her sound them out. William watched us carefully, noticing the differences. I wondered how long it would be before he was reading. His mind was like a dry sponge, thirsty for water.
Glenda glanced at the library clock and got up to leave. ”Thank you, Miss Louisa.”
”Glenda, we'll be here tomorrow. Same time, same place.”
She gave a quick nod as a small smile crossed her face.
William and I stayed a little longer before going up to the desk to check out our books.
Usually friendly, Miss Bentley, the librarian, had her lips pressed tightly together. ”Do you know who that girl is, Louisa?” she whispered disapprovingly.
I knew.
”Her name is Glenda, Miss Bentley, and she's learning to read. Isn't that a wonderful accomplishment? For anyone?” I used a tone of voice borrowed from Robert. It meant: end of discussion.
It became a habit for Glenda, William, and me to meet a few times each week. Glenda made slow but determined progress. One morning, as William ran off to find books, I asked Glenda about her future. I knew she had some plan, but I didn't want to ask her much about her current life. I didn't want to know too much about it.
”I am going to learn to read, and someday I am going to get out of this town and make somethin' of myself,” she announced.
”I know you will, Glenda,” I told her, meaning it.
”I never meant to be....doing the kind of work I've been doing.”
”Of course not,” I said.
”My sister and I, we lived out on a farm with our father until he died. Then my sister had a baby, and her boyfriend run out on her, and we had lots of doctor bills to pay. I borrowed some money from the bank, but then I couldn't pay it back. We had a bad year on the farm. The bank took the farm. So Mick at the Tavern, he told me he knew a way I could pay off our bills.”
”Where's your sister now?”
Her face grew somber. ”She pa.s.sed on. Got a bad fever one winter. She was always a little sickly.” Then she brightened. ”But I got her little boy in a home in Douglas. I paid a family to take him in. They're good folk. The man is a preacher. When Mr. Mueller told me that, I knew they'd be the right folk to take care of my boy. But I'm gonna get him back soon.”
Herr Mueller?
”Glenda, did you say Herr Mueller helped you find this family?”
”Yes ma'am. He said he knew about this preacher and his wife, living over there in Douglas, no kids of their own. I even got to meet them. Real good folk, Miss Louisa.”
”Do you remember their names? The minister's name?”
”Yes ma'am, I do. His name is Sid Carter. I send him extra money as often as I can spare it. For my nephew.”
”And what did you say your nephew's name was?”
”Tommy. He's about ten-years-old now.”
”When did you last see Tommy?”