EMILY

A story I'd forgotten I'd written in 2014

That uses the verse I gave yesterday:

Jeremiah 31:2-4

This is dedicated to Grandma Fairless

who as a young bride nursed her husband's family

during the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1917-18

losing his mother, father, little sister

and a brother.

"The people who survived the sword 

Found grace in the wilderness--

 when it went to find its rest...

'I have loved you with an everlasting love;

Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness.

Again I will build you, and you shall be rebuilt,

O virgin of Israel!  

Again you shall take up your tambourines,

And go forth to the dances of the merrymakers."

Emily went by the Tipton's on her way to school.  Mr. Tipton would take her fresh eggs to stock his store shelves every morning.  She and his daughter Heather had always been best friends going to school all the way with desks side by side from kindergarten 'till they were almost ready to graduate.  Now Heather was gone.  She died in the Spanish Flu epidemic in 1918, the worst year of Em's life.  So many died.  It was hard to realize that her best friend would not be waiting when Emily opened the screen door on the back porch of the store to set her eggs down.  Now she walked on alone.   The epidemic seemed to have settled down, and school had resumed.

During these war years, Heather had promised to write her brother every week while he was overseas fighting.  She begged Emily to help her eek something out of their ordinary lives to write about.  Together the girls wrote tidbits of this and that of life in Buntin, Tennessee, of funny things people said or did, or of the beauty of the changing seasons.  The girls related which hound dog had pups, who got poison ivy, snake bit, who had babies, who got married, but they didn't tell him anything about Emily's sister getting married to William, his best friend.  She was Josiah's promised when he left, but was unfaithful to her promise.  

Most think it was Billy Frost who came home on leave that brought the flu with him.  It hit his family first taking his mom and dad and little sis, leaving two boys too young to go off to fight and barely old enough to carry on with the farm.  Billy didn't make it either, a young soldier who died not on the battlefield, but at home from the flu.  He had come home well, but left in a box.

It swept through town like a wildfire, skipping some homes while consuming others.  Schools closed and even the churches, though prayer never ceased.  Only small outdoor graveside services were held where people hung back from the grieving.  It seemed strange that no one was hugging, not even bringing food to the berieved.  One couldn't be too careful.  Entire families were wiped out while families like hers were spared.

It seemed the local epidemic was about gone until its wicked tail whipped around one last time and stung by striking the Tipton household.  Not only had sweet Mrs. Tipton died, but so had Emily's best friend Heather.  Mr. Tipton was a shell of a man in his grief.  His only son was across the sea fighting in that terrible war.  The Lord only knew if Josiah Tipton would survive.

Emily's parents would not let her go see Heather when she got sick.  She sent notes through her father at the store as she still took her eggs to theree though her mother wouldn't allow her to step foot inside.  Most people wouldn't go to his store when the word got out that the sickness had visited his family even though he had hired help in order to stay at home to tend his family.

It made Emily so mad that some whispered that the Tiptons must not have had enough faith or they would have survived.  Others murmered that one of the Tipton's surely had sinned and were reaping God's judgment.  The holier-than-thou-ers were infuriating.

After Heather died, her father came to Emily's home, though he sat on a stump in the yard twisting his hat while she sat on the porch step.  Her parents stood behind her and spoke their condolences that were like a breeze that did not even stir the hair on his balding head.  Everyone waited for him to speak.  

Finally, he spoke, "I don't want to let my son know of our grief here.  It will be enough to bear when he gets home, but I can't let him suffer more while he is over there fighting."  Mr. Tipton wiped away tears with his bare hands and went on, "Heather had promised to write him every week, and I know you helped her, Em.  I come to ask you a big favor as her best friend.  Her last request was for you to keep on writing those letters to her brother and just sign her name for her."

He paused and carefully minced his words.  "You know your sister was his gal, and she never did write him like she promised.  I hope she's happy, but I know it hurt him bad.  So, I'm certain he looks forward to those letters you girls wrote when they did get through.  If you'll do that for Heather and me, I would forever be indebted to you, Miss Emily.  I will provide the paper and envelopes as well as the postage making sure they are mailed, if you'll just bring 'em with yer eggs."

"Of course, Mr. Tipton.  I can do that for Heather, for you and for Josiah."  At the same time her fists were white-knuckled balled up in her lap just thinking of how her sister had treated the man Emily admired more than any other that the town of Bunting had produced.  Josiah Tipton was a man worth waiting for, and Beth didn't.  Instead she got pregnant with William Fresson's baby and had a hurry-up wedding.  Then, even worse, they moved right in with them staying in her late grandmother's bedroom.  It seemed a sacrilege to her memory.  But Mr. Tipton's voice brought her attention back to the present.

"Alright then.  Come by the store on your way home sometime and pick out the paper you want and pen and ink."  The man flashed a ghost of a smile which then crumpled into grief.  He turned and walked away with his shoulders heaving.  Emily saw the flash of his white handkerchief when he yanked it out of his pocket.

They all stood silent in mournful respect for the sorrow of their friend and neighbor.  Finally, Emily asked, "Ma, Pa, is that alright?  I mean, I promised to do that, but is it honest to sign Heather's name?"

They stood silently thinking on it before her mother answered, "I think it would be alright.  Didn't you sign your name alongside Heather's at times  Just keep on doing that.  It's not withholding the truth forever, it's just waiting for the proper time.  Now is not the right time for telling.  He'll find out soon enough when he comes home."

"And if he doesn't," Emily swallowed hard and went on, "I mean if he never makes it home, he'll know I was lying when he gets to heaven and sees his ma and sis there waiting for him."

"We have to have the hope that he will make it home, Em.  God will sort it out so we don't have to worry about it.  Just keep praying for him like I know you have been.  Think of the happiness your letters will bring.  That's what Heather was counting on you for."

"But God didn't answer my prayer for Heather to survive.  I don't think my prayers are worth squat."

"I'm surprised at you, Emily, for using such course slang.  Of course He heard you, but it is already written in God's book when He calls His children home.  Our prayers are for them whether it will be surviving here or going on to heaven.  Don't you think, Em, that Heather felt your prayers even though you couldn't go see her?"

"I hope so."  But Emily wore her doubts on her shoulders like a heavy cloak.

The next day when she came home from school, she walked out to clean the chicken coup, one of her many chores on the place.  With her sister's pregnancy, Beth distained the outdoor work saying the smells made her nauseous.  William was working long hours at the mill, so he wasn't worth much at home either.  As usual, she and her pa did the dirty work.

Beth and William lived with them because they were too poor to live on their own, especially with a child coming, and especially since the mill work didn't last all year.  Emily hated it because she could hear too much when they fought, which was pert-near every night.  Then Emily had to cover her head with her pillow when they kissed and made up.  Most of the summer, she slept out on the screened porch on a cot to avoid being only one thin wall away from the newlyweds.  Unfortunately, cold weather had driven her back inside.  

She hoped not all marriages were like that.  But knowing her sister's picky, pouty side, Em knew not to expect much better from her.  Hadn't Beth fought with her their whole growing up years?  Emily didn't know what Josiah Tipton had ever seen in her and was glad in a way that her sister didn't wait for him.  He might think he had a broken heart, but it would be better than coming home to her and being stuck with her his whole life.  He deserved better.

Emily alternated using the pitchfork to toss in new hay and to ward off the threatening spurs of the rooster.  He was an onery one.  As much as she liked her hens, she despised this rooster.

Em heard her mother call, "Emily, I want a chicken for supper.  Would you bring me one, please?"  Killing one of her chickens was much worse than fighting the rooster, but she had known better than to make them her pets.  With a sigh, she choose the one who was most hen-pecked and rung the poor thing's neck.  

Then she called, "Ma, I killed one for you, but will you please have Beth come pluck it?  I have to take eggs to Miss Tillitson.  She asked me yesterday saying she was waiting for my eggs in order to bake a cake."

"Go on then.  I'll tell Beth."

Emily snickered.  She knew that the only thing worse than killing a chicken to her sister was plucking one to prepare it for cooking for supper.  Oh well.  With a bit of a mean streak, she hollered, "Tell Beth it was my chicken named Sissy.  I think she's done running around with her head cut off now."

After she delivered the eggs, she would go by the store and pick out stationary.  Then Emily would come home and write Josiah Tipton a letter for his sister.  When Emily thought about her friend Heather, she sniffled the rest of the way.

It was harder than she thought choosing the paper.  Mr. Tipton pointed to a pen as well careful not to touch the merchandise himself.  Customers didn't like their things handled by him still.  Usually he stayed back in his office and let his assistant help the people since the flu had not visited her house  He only came out because he heard Emily's voice.  His eyes seemed to search her's as if to find his daughter alive in Em's presence.  Emily finally chose pale blue sheets with matching envelopes.  It made her think of the color of Josiah's eyes, but she would not write about that.  Emily thanked Mr. Tipton and walked home looking around her to see anything of interest to write about from here in Bunting.

She suddenly remembered the huge tomatoes in the tilted display boxes in front of his father's store and thought how much Josiah loved a juicy tomato.  Em knew he would practically be able to taste that tomato when she wrote about it.

Down the road she saw the boy on the bike who delivered messages from the wire that were usually bad news.  Nobody liked to see him coming with his telegrams and would hold their breath until he passed them by like the grim reaper.  Emily stood stalk still as she observed him go to the Anthony's, his heavy on tread on the steps sounding like a hammer as he went up to their porch to knock.  The door was cracked and a letter was slipped though the crack into a shaking hand.  Even when the door closed, the wail heard told the story of another soldier not coming home to Bunting.  It gave Emily the shivers so she ran home to tell her ma all the while praying that Josiah would make it home safe.

Her mother heard her calling, and she was folded into her waiting arms to hold her while she wept.  Richard Anthony had been a classmate, only a year older than she.  Emily told her the news between sobs.

"I must make this into a chicken soup so we will have enough to share with his poor mother.  Emily, after you've had time to lie on your bed to compose yourself, would you gather some root vegetables to put in the soup?  Sometimes it's the staying busy that helps when hurting.  I'll begin making the noodles.  Poor, Mrs. Anthony.  I'm so glad that I only had girls.  I can't imagine what she's going through, especially now that her husband is gone."

Even Beth came in to sit beside her for a minute without saying a word, just rubbing her back.  Finally she whispered, "Sorry, sis."  Then she left letting Emily sort through her misery.  That made six of her clasmates gone due to the war or to the flu.

It wan't until the pot of soup and rolls were delivered, and they had sat down to their own meal at home that her mother asked, "Are you going to mention the loss of Richard to Josiah in your letter?"

"What!  What do you mean about a letter, Emily?  Why are you writing a letter to Josiah?"

"Mr. Tipton has asked me to carry on writing to him for Heather," she responded.

"He came by this morning when you were out," her mother said with a silent warning for Beth to hush."

"Did he come to our house?  I don't want to be exposed to that horrible flu.  Think of my baby, for goodness sakes!"

"No, he spoke to her from the yard.  Don't worry, Beth.  He did not bring any germs into our home," her mother scoffed.

William, Beth's husband, kept up his steady slurping spoonfuls never looking up, hungry from a hard day of labor.  Then William spoke up grinning with a wad of roll in his mouth like a chaw of tobacco, "That's a good thing about working in the woods, I'm not exposed to that flu sickeness."  No one answered.

Her mother asked Beth to help her with the dishes, not her usual chore since she complained so often of a backache.  It was to allow Emily time to write her letter.   The one good thing about having Beth married was that now she had a room to herself and privacy for the task set before her.  Afraid to mess up the beautiful stationary, Emily wrote a rough draft in her journal with more things crossed out than left in.  She had to write it so that it sounded like Heather.  They had done it enough together that she knew what to include.  Emily found herself thinking more of what she wasn't mentioning, like Heather and his mother's death, his father's grief, Em's sister's pregancy then marriage, or of Richard Anthony as one of the war dead.  She sighed and began writing.

Dear Josiah, 

You sure are sorely missed here.  There's no one to take us fishing now.  We don't dare cross old man Smith's property to get to our favorite fishing spot without you.  I bet you wish you could eat a pan full of fried catfish about now.  Did I tell you about the beautiful display of tomatoes in the front of the store?  It makes me think how much you loved to bite into one of those juicy red things and had juice dribbling down your chin.  Am I making you hungry yet?  

You know Emily helps me write my letters to you 'cause we've always done everything together.  Oh, and we had a good rain yesterday.  Mr. Harper's hound killed a copperhead this week, but it made his paw swell up something awful.  They say that the man even lets it up in his own bed to tend to it.  He's hopeful it will survive.  I remember you used to sneak your dog in the house and into your bed too.  Now the poor thing misses you so much, it hardly leaves the porch.  He hasn't gone hunting since you left.  It's like he is waiting for you.

If you can write, tell me what you think about most while you're in your trench or fox hole.  Then I can tell you about it if you are thinking about home.  School is not the same since the war.  Not very many boys are left in the older grades as they mostly left for war.  More women are having to fill jobs here with so many men away  Dad has even hired Miss Schofield to work in the store some.  I must admit, she's tidied it up a bit.  Did I tell you that we have a lady postmistress now?  There is nothing makes me happier on earth than when I go see her, and she gives me a letter from you.   Write when you can.  Be assured we are all praying for the war to be over and for you to come home soon.  Be safe.  Love, Heather and Emily.

She carefully copied it onto the stationary, then showed it to her mother.  "Do you think this is alright?  Do you think he 'll guess that Heather didn't write it?"

"I'm sure he'll be happy to receive it  Isn't it like all the other letters you girls wrote to him before?  You did a good job filling it with cheerful things and warm thoughts of home. War is more horried that we can imagine, and a letter like this is a ray of sunshine shining down out of black storm clouds."

Her sister Beth had a cross look when they were talking about it.  "PLease don't talk about Josiah or your letters to him in front of me.  It pains me to hear it."

"Pains you brought on yourself, you mean" Emily feeling contrary couldn't help but add.

"Emily, that's enough," her mother warned.  "That is all water under the bridge.  We will try not, Beth, however, we won't promise to tiptoe around you either.  You must learn to live with the choices you made."  That was about as much of a rebuke she had heard her mother make since Beth came home to announce that she and William had gotten married in the next town over and needed to live with them since she was expecting.  Mother mostly cried then.

Emily was faithful to write to Josiah, and Mr. Tipton was good to let her read the letters when his son wrote back.  He never included the horrors he must have faced, but seemed to like to respond back to whatever she had written, things like fishing or ripe tomatoes or his dog on the porch.  Heather said before she died that he had quit asking about Beth though they never told him that she was married and expecting.  When he mentioned that he had a souvenir for his little sister, it made Emily cry that Heather would not be there for him when he returned home.

It was the middle of November, and her sister was as large as a harvest moon nearing her due date.  Now she was no help around the house at all.  Beth kept busy making baby clothes and blankets and heming diapers.  Pa had even brought down the cradle from the attic, the one he had made for her sister when she was born.    Around the supper table they tried to help William and Beth to decide on a name.  But every one they picked, Emily already had a chicken by that name.  When she said so, it made her sister mad.

At school, Emily was in the middle of a spelling bee when the church bells started ringing.  When they did not stop, the boys first, then everyone stood up and hurried outside to see if there was a fire.  Finally, Kenny, who had played hooky that day to go hunting early with his pa, came running up out of breath to say gleefully, "The war is over!"  An armistice has been signed!"

Emily whispered to herself, "Josiah is coming home!"  She both had butterflies in her stomach and a hurt in her heart just thinking about the sad news he'd find when he did return, that his ma and sister were no more.  It was all she could do to keep from sobbing out loud with all the emotion coursing through her.  She grabbed her coat and ran home.  Her thoughts were a tumble.  She hoped he would not be angry with her when he found out that it was her that had been writing his letters.

Emily had not seen him for over two years, not since she and Heather were fifteen.  Sure she had a crush on him then, but it was silly since he only had eyes for her sister.  Beth had bawled her eyes out at the kitchen table saying she didn't know how she could live without him when he left, while Emily went into their room and shut the door to smother her tears in her pillow.  In a matter of months, her sister was back to going to dances and flirting with whomever looked at her twice.  She was beautiful and knew it.  Some said Emily was too, but didn't know it, or at least paid it no mind.  Beth was golden while Emily was a striking beauty with her raven black hair that almost shimmered and eyes that flashed like lightning when it strikes.  Most of the time they were covered by a heavy fringe of lashes that swept down in modesty, unless a storm brewed.

Harold Bloomfield had set his cap for her, but he repulsed her with his coarse ways.  He would try to kiss her if he found her alone in the cloak room or behind the school which she carefully tried to avoid.  But she had slapped him once, hard.  Skip Hawthorne liked her too but was like a moonstruck puppy who followed her everywhere.  Because of them, she never even asked her folks if she could go to dances.  Besides, she now went to the Methodist Church with Heather while own her parents were Presbyterian.  The Methodists frowned upon dancing.  She still went after Mrs. Tilton and Heather passed away and sat in the Tilton pew on Sundays beside the grief-struck man.  Her mother and sister thought it a bit odd, but allowed it since it seemed to bring the man comfort.

Emily had just come home from school a few weeks later when she heard a familiar voice in her house.  She froze, then slipped weak-kneed down to sit on the porch steps.  Em refused to go in and interupt what sounded like a heated conversation.  So, she pulled her coat up tighter knowing she shouldn't listen, but she was so happy to hear his voice that it was impossible to tear herself away.  Tears of joy dripped down her cheeks.  Josiah was alive!

"What happened to your promise to wait for me, Beth?  Huh?  How long did you wait?  I haven't hardly been gone over two years, and you are married and now due any time.  I waited for you, you know.  Guys over there have a lot of temptations.  But I resisted just thinking of you.  I still hoped to find you here waiting for me even though you quit writing after the first few months.  I was in love with you, Beth!"

"I was in love with you too," her sister whimpered.

He snorted, "Yeah, and I believe the moon is made of green cheese."

"No, truly, I was...it's just that..." and because she had nothing else she could say, Beth began sobbing.

Emily knew her sister had no defense.  She'd been unfaithful to him seeking pleasure over commitment.

"I just found out that you were married, but nobody told me you were in the womanly way too.  I guess I had to see it for myself.  You must not have waited very long, that's for sure!  And not only that, you married my best friend!" At that he stormed out slamming the kitchen door while Beth ran crying to her room.  Josiah stood on the edge of the porch clenching and unclenching his fists and taking deep breaths.

He had not seen her there.  Emily stood up and said softly, "I'm glad you're home, Josiah.  I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about your mother and Heather, but I promised your father I wouldn't.  The tears were running down her face in a fresh grief.  He turned his stormy countenance toward her, though nearly blinded himself by tears just thinking about his little sister.

"She was your best friend.  You were inseparable.  It must have been hard for you too."

"The last thing she asked me to do was to keep writing you the letters.  I couldn't say they weren't from her, but I felt badly not being truthful with you."

He stepped down and gave her a big hug then rested his chin on her head.  "It's okay.  I couldn't have kept my sanity without those letters.  We would go for weeks without any mail, but then would get a whole passel of them at once.  I read each of them so many times, they 'bout fell apart.  I saved them all, you know.  They were my most precious possession."

"Your pa read me some of your letters too.  You never wrote about the sad things, though I can't imagine how terrible things were for you over there.  I'm sure you wish you could wipe it all away from your memory."

"Yes and no.  There were friendships forged that were the very best."  He snorted, "Evidently, not like William.  Many of them did not make it, but even those I am glad to say that I will see them in heaven one day.  I'm sure they've already met my mom and sis.  That makes me happy, at least a little bit.  But the rest...I wish I could forget."  He paused lost in remembering.

Then he shook his head and continued, "Thanks for writing me, kiddo.  He kissed her forehead then held her away from him by her shoulders after blinking his tears away.  "Wow.  You are not the same kid I remember, Em.  I started courting your sister when she was younger than you.  You must be making some guy pretty happy."

"Are you kidding me?  It's pretty slim pickings between the war and the Spanish Flu.  I haven't seen a date I wanted to accept yet."  Emily tried to laugh it off, but his nearness was making her heart do some strange poundings.  She hoped he would not notice.

He pushed a stray strand away from her face still studying her.  I bet you really miss her, don't you?  The tears spilled out again then, and all she could do was shake her head.  He bent down to kiss her cheek just as she turned her head up to say something, but found herself kissed instead.  It began gently, then the two years of longing for a kiss seemed to come to fruition.  Emily wrapped her arms around his neck in an embrace she always dreamed of.  But never had she imagined it could be like this.  She held on tighter.

"Sorry," he said hoarsely, pulling away.

Emily was sure she was turning scarlet, but was not sorry.  "I know you just needed a kiss, and it wasn't meant for me.  But that's okay.  Truly, I did not mind one bit,"  He took her hand and kissed her palm.

Just then a splotchy-faced Beth came out and practically screamed like a crazed person, "Emily!  Get in here this instant!" her sister screeched.  Emily wondered what she would have done had she come out a minute earlier.

Josiah put his arm around Emily's shoulders and gave a squeeze.  "I was just leaving.  Thanks again, sweetheart for writing me all those letters."  Though he was looking at Emily, she knew he was mocking Beth.  It made her want to laugh, but then he whispered, "Maybe you could come over sometime and visit with me and dad so we can talk about Heather."

"I'd like that," Emily smiled with her sadness back.

After he left, her sister seethed, "How dare you stand there on the porch in public making a fool of yourself, Emily!  You are too young for a seasoned soldier like that."

"What difference does it make to you anyway?" Emily shot back.

"A lot," her sister sniffed and went back inside.

Just the same, Emily found she was too nervous to go to the Tipton's even though Josiah had invited her to drop by.  Yet, one morning a fw days later, he came out just as she was delivering her eggs on their back porch.

"Hello, Emily."  Then he rubbed the back of his neck while turning red adding, "You know, that kiss kind of took me by surprise," 

"Me too.  I didn't know it would be like that," Emily stammered.

"Like what?"

"It was my first kiss.  I don't know, like melting."

He chuckled.  "Uh, first kisses aren't usually like that.  I know what you mean though.  It was pretty hot.  The trouble is, it always leaves you wanting more."

"Yeah," she softly agreed.

"Well, I'll be, Miss Emily, you certainly have been a pleasant surprise.  Sometimes we think we have things figured out, make plans, have dreams, then they all come tumbling down.  But sometimes, something better is left standing in their place."  She was looking searchingly at him now, and all he wanted to do was kiss her, but the little thing had to go off to school.  "You better run off, Emily.  Isn't there a bell that the teacher still rings?"

She did run off as fleet as a deer, and he watched her go until she turned the corner.  He figured he'd better not hand around the back porch on a school day any more, or he might just make her tardy one of these mornings.

Sunday came like clockwork, but everything had changed.  Emily wasn't ready.  She vacillated between wanting to go to church and still sit by Mr. Tipton, or go with her folks.  Josiah would be there now, and he might think she was chasing him.  She hoped Mr. Tilton told him that she always came and sat with him.  She brushed her hair 'till there was a sheen on it in the morning sunshine, bright for December.  With a fixed determination, she decided she would keep on doing what she had been doing before he had come home.  

With her Bible tucked up against her chest, she walked to the plain white church.  When Emily paused before going down the aisle, she could see Josiah sitting with his father in the usual place.  Indeed he did look surprised to see her there catching her eye as he looked back over his shoulder.  Mr. Tipton scooted over so that she could sit between them.  He leaned over her and whispered to his son, "Emily used to come with Heather, but she has not missed a Sunday sitting by me since we lost your mother and sister."  Josiah looked at her until she wished she could shrink.  Instead, he reached over and held her hand and did not let go the whole time they were seated.  

He only let go when they stood up to sing out of the hymnal they shared.   Afterward, the pastor was saying, "We all want to welcome Josiah Tipton back home, an answer to our prayers.  At the same time we grieve for the loss of his mother and sister.  Welcome, Josiah.  We  remember as well the many others have died in the war and in the pandemic.  

He preached from Jeremiah 31:2-4, "The people which were left of the sword found grace in the wilderness;...I went to cause him rest...Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee.   Again I will build thee, and thou shalt be built.  O virgin of Israel: thou shalt again be adorned with thy tabrets, and shall go forth in the dances of them that make merry."

Emily glanced over and saw Josiah on the edge of his seat drinking in the message .  When the service was over, he kept his hand in the small of her back all the way down the aisle.  Emily became aware of several of the young ladies her sister's age glaring at her.  She realized she wasn't the only one who had been waiting for him to come home.

He finally left her outside by his father to go over and hug Mrs. Anthony and let her cry on his shoulder a bit.  Walking back to their house together, he asked, "Would you like to eat Sunday dinner with us, Miss Tipton?" 

Mr. Tipton agreed, "Please do darlin'."  

"Oh, then, maybe I will," she agreed.  I think my folks will know where I am.  Your father has fed me more than once, you know."

It was a pleasant dinner, and she noticed, it was the happiest she had seen Mr. Tipton since he lost his wife and daughter.  After they were done eating, they sat around and told stories about Josiah's mother and sister.  He wanted to hear everything she could remember to tell him about his sister these last two years.

Then he became pensive.  "I think the preacher preached that sermon right to me today.  I have escaped the sword by His grace, and He has brought me to rest out of the wilderness.  I know God has followed me with HIs lovingkindness.  In some ways though, I was feeling torn by the war, by the losses there and here at home," he coughed nervously, "my intended, my mother, and my sister.  I think He was promising me today that He will rebuild me." Then he laughed and winked at Emily, "I just need to find a virgin to dance."

Oh my did Emily blush then while his father roared with laughter.  "You surely are too bold, son.  My goodness, I can't believe you just said that!"

"It's all in the Bible, sir," he retorted and winked at her again.   Suddenly, he stood and said, "Excuse me for a minute, please."  Then he left the room.

"My gracious, it's good to have my son home," Mr. Tipton said absently patting her hand, "as well as to be able to laugh again.  Thank you for coming today and for all those other Sundays when I was alone.  I won't ever forget that kindness.  It was wonderful to talk about my little girl today.  Having you here is as close as I can come in this life to being next to her.  That makes you one special lady to me, Miss Emily."

"Thank you," she managed to say with her throat swollen with emotion.

When Josiah came back into the room, he did not sit down.  "Would you walk with me, Miss Emily?"  She rose, and they walked in silence for awhile.  He reached out, and she gave him her hand.  Josiah walked her towards Mr. Smith's pond where he had taken his sister and her fishing.  Today they sat on a log soaking in the December sunshine.  

"Did my father read you the letter when I said that I had a little souvenir for Heather?"  When she nodded, he went on to say, "Well, it's nothing too special, but I thought she'd like it knowing that I'd made it while thinking of her in the mud of France.  I thought maybe you'd like it now in her stead.  After all, in those days, a body couldn't think of one of you without the other.  However, since I've been home, I've mostly been thinking of you."

He pulled out a thin silver band and put it on her finger.  "It's just a trinket we learned how to make to beat the boredom so to keep our minds off the next set of explositions that would be coming our way.  It is made of a dime drilled and slowly pounded out."

"It's beautiful, Josiah, more so that you made it for Heather.  I am honored that you have given it to me."  She felt like crying.

"You know, Emily, I wanted to bring you out here to speak with you.  I'm not the kind of fella that can string a gal along just for his own pleasure.  Of course, you wouldn't know that when I kissed you the other day, the first day I saw that you weren't a little girl anymore.  It woke me up.  I realized that you were the one who was faithful to remember me.  Oh sure, I got a few letters now and then from some other gals, which I didn't bother to answer.  I'm sure you saw some of them frowning at you in today in church.  But you were the one who never stopped writing.  You were the one to stand alongside my father in his grief when I couldn't be there for him."

"You are very handsome and can't help but catch any girl's eye, yet it's more, Josiah.  You are all that a girl could hope for in a man."

She spoke so innocently and sincerely, he knew it was not pure flattery.  He pulled her close.  "That's what I wanted to ask you.  Do you think you could be my girl, Emily?  After all I've been through and all I've lost, I don't want to dance with the wrong gal again, if you know what I mean?'  

Emily could hardly breathe and could only nod.

"You said when I kissed you that day, that it wasn't really wasn't meant for you.  I've been thinking about that all this time.  What I think about that kiss, the kiss I thought about coming home to give my girl all that time over there, is that though I didn't know it was for you, it really was for you and no other.  I never kissed anyone like that before.  Just because it was a surprise to both of us, doesn't mean it wasn't meant to be.  Do you know what I am saying?"

Slowly a smile crept over her face  "I think I'll know for certain when you give me a kiss that I know is meant just for me.  After all, that was my first kiss."

He pulled her up in his arms and asked, "Does this mean you will be my girl?"  She pulled his head down and answered with her lips.  Her heart was just like the Scripture said, very merry and dancing indeed!