Grandma Fairless told me the story of WWI when her husband was overseas fighting and she lived with her in-laws. A brother, also in the service, came home on leave and brought home that terrible flu of the epidemic of 1818. She nursed the family as best she could. There was no medicine to reduce the fever, and the doctor told her to pile on the blankets. She refused, just knowing that couldn't be right. Still her husband's parents, little sister, and the soldier brother all died there at home. This inspired my short love story
EMILY
By Celia Jolley
"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."
Jeremiah 31:2-4
Emily had always brought her eggs to the Tipton's on her way to school. Mr. Tipton would take them to stock his store shelves with her fresh eggs every morning. She and his daughter Heather had always been best friends going to school all the way, desks side by side, from kindergarten till they were freshmen in high school. Now Heather was gone, dying in the flu epidemic of 1918, the worst year of Em's life. So many died. Hard to realize every day that her best friend would not be waiting when Emily opened the screen door on the porch where she set her eggs down. She walked on alone. The epidemic seemed to have settled down, and school had begun meeting again.
During these war years, Heather had promised to write her brother every week when he was sent overseas. She begged Emily to help her eek something out of the ordinary to write about. Together they wrote tidbits of this and that and essays of life in Bunting, Tennessee, of funny things people said or did, or of the beauty of the changing seasons. The girls related which hound had pups, who got poison ivy, snake bit, who had babies, who got married, and who died. Sometimes it seemed for awhile that's what they wrote about the most, who died, between the war and the flu when it came uninvited to town. They never wrote him about Emily's sister Beth 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 bought 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 while still urging everyone to pray. Only outdoor gravesite services were held where people hung back from the grieving. It seemed strange that no one was hugging each other anymore or bringing food. 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 and stung one last time by striking the Tipton household. Not only had Heather died, but so did her sweet mother. 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 her notes though leaving them with her father at the store. She had to take her eggs clear there when her mother wouldn't let her step foot on the Tipton's property. Most people didn't even want to go to his store when the word got out that the sickness had visited upon his family. That's when he hired help and stayed home to tend his family.
After Heather died, her father came to Emily's home and sat down 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 said, "I don't want to let my son know of our grief here. It will be enough for him to bear when he gets home, but I can't let him suffer more while he is over there fighting." He wiped away tears with his bare hands and went on, "Heather 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 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. She did not wait for him like she promised. I hope she's happy, but I know it hurt him bad. So, I know he looks forward to those letters of yours when they do get through. If you'll do that for Heather and me, I would be indebted to you, Miss Emily. I will provide the paper and envelopes and the postage and see that they are mailed, if you'll just bring 'em with yer eggs."
"Sure, Mr. Tipton. I can do that for Heather, for Josiah, and for you." At the same time her fists were balled with white knuckles thinking of how her sister had treated the man who Emily admired more than any other that Bunting had produced. Josiah Tipton was a man worth waiting for, and Beth didn't. She got pregnant with William Fresson's baby, and had a hurry up wedding. Then, of all things, they moved right in to what had been her late grandmother's room. It seemed a sacrilege to her righteous memory. His 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 even." The man flashed a ghost of a smile which then crumpled in grief. He turned and walked away with his shoulders heaving seeing the flash of his white handkerchief as 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 write in Heather's name?"
They were silent thinking on it, then her mother said, "I think it will be alright. Didn't you sign your name with Heather's at times? Just keep on doing that. It's not withholding the truth forever, it's just waiting for the proper time, and now is not the right time for telling. He'll know it all when he comes home."
"And if he doesn't, 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. Right?"
"But God didn't answer my prayer for Heather to survive. I don't think my prayers are worth squat."
"Don't use that course slang, child. Of course He hears you, but it is already written in God's book when He calls His children home. Our prayers are there for their home going, whether it be coming through it here or going on to heaven. Don't you think, Em, that Heather felt your prayers even though you couldn't go to her?"
"I hope so." But Emily wore her doubts on her shoulders like a heavy clock.
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, she distained the outdoor work saying the smells made her nauseous. William was working long hours at the mill so that he wasn't worth much at home. As usual, it was she and her Pa who did the dirty work.
Beth and William lived with them because they were too poor to live on their own with a child coming. 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, and had to cover her head with her pillow when they kissed and made up. Most times in the summer, she slept out on the screened porch on a cot to avoid being only a thin wall away from the newlyweds. She dreaded the cold weather when she would have to move back inside. She hoped not all marriages were like that, but knowing her sister's picky, pouty side, she knew not to expect much better from her. Hadn't she 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. He deserved better.
She alternated using the pitchfork to toss in new hay and to ward off the threatening spurs of the rooster. He was an onry one. As much as she like her hens, she despised this rooster.
She heard her mother call, "Em, I want a chicken for dinner. Would you bring me one, please?" It was worse than fighting the rooster, having to kill one of her chickens. She decided to choose the one who was most hen-pecked and rung her neck. She then put it down fascinated in the strange attraction watching it running around with its head cut off before collapsing.
Then she called, "Ma, I killed one for you, but can you have Beth come pluck it? I have to take eggs to Miss Tillitson. She asked me yesterday, saying she was waiting for my eggs to bake a cake. Alright?"
"Go on then. I'll tell Beth."
Emily knew the only thing worse than killing a chicken to her sister, was plucking one to prepare to cook for dinner. Oh well, let her eat cake, which she was more than likely to do refusing to eat the meat her mother would lovingly make out of that raw chicken. With a bit of a mean streak, Emily hollered, "Tell Beth it was my chicken named Sissy. I think she's done dancing now." Putting a beady-eyed face in her mind's eye in the plucking always made it worse when you where holding the headless thing.
After she delivered the eggs, she would go by the store, pick out the stationary, then come home and write Josiah Tipton a letter for his sister. Emily then thought about her friend Heather 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 there. His eyes seemed to search her as if to find his daughter alive in her 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. She thanked Mr. Tipton and walked home looking around her to see anything of interest to write about in Bunting.
She remembered the huge tomatoes in the tilted display boxes in front of his father's store and thought about how much Josiah loved a juicy tomato. She knew he would practically be able to taste that tomato when she wrote about it.
Then she saw the boy on the bike who delivered the messages that usually were bad news. Nobody liked to see him coming with his telegrams and would hold their breath until he passed by. Emily stood stalk still as she saw him go to the Anthony's, his heavy steps sounding like a hammer on an anvil going up to their porch to knock on the front door. The door was cracked and the letter was slipped through to 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 and ran home to tell her Ma all the while praying that Josiah would make it home safe.
Her mother heard her calling and was folded into her waiting arms. 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 them. Emily after you've had time to lie on your bed to compose yourself, would you gather some vegetables to put in the soup? Sometimes it's the staying busy that helps. I'll begin making the noodles. Poor, Mrs. Anthony. I'm so glad I only had girls. I can't imagine what she is going through."
Even Beth came in to sit beside her for a minute on her bed without saying a word, just patting her shoulder. Finally she said, "I'm sorry sis." Then she left letting Emily sort through her misery that life seemed to have around every corner. That made four of her classmates gone due to the war or the flu.
It wasn'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, Emily?"
"What? What do you mean about a letter, Emily? Why are you writing a letter to Josiah?"
"His father has asked me to carry on writing him for Heather."
"He came by this morning to ask her while you were out."
"Did he come in 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."
William, Beth's husband, kept up his steady slurping spoonfuls, hungry from a hard day of labor not looking up. Her father also was quietly eating as usual. His eyes just followed whoever was speaking. Now William spoke with a mouthful of roll in his mouth, "Yep, that's a good thing about working in the woods, not as exposed to those stupid flu germs."
Her mother asked Beth to help her with the dishes, not her usual chore since she complained so 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 times together that she understood a little of what to include. Emily found herself thinking more of what she wasn't including like Heather and his mother's death, his father's grief, her sister's pregnancy, then marriage, 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 how beautiful the display of tomatoes is in front of the store? Makes me think how you liked to bite into 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 this week that helped the garden along. Mr. Harper's hound killed a copperhead this week. They think the dog will survive. They say the man lets it up in his own bed to tend to it. Can you imagine that? But I guess you can 'cause you used to always sneak your dog up into your bed too. Now he hardly gets off the porch. He hasn't got to go hunting since you left. It's like he's waiting for you.
If you can write, tell me what you think about most 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 top classes. More women are having to fill in jobs here with so many men away. Dad has even hired Miss Schofield to work in the store. I must admit, she's tidied it up a bit. Did I tell you that we have a lady postmistress now? She smiles when she sees me coming when she has a letter for me from you. There is nothing that makes me happier on earth than hearing 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 and safe. Love, Heather and Emily.
She carefully copied it onto the stationary then showed it to her mother. "Do you think this will be alright? Do you think he'll guess that Heather didn't write it?"
"I'm sure he will be happy to receive it.. Isn't it like the other letters you girls wrote to him? It is good to fill it with cheerful things, thoughts of home. War is more horrid than we can imagine, and a letter like this is a piece of sunshine."
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," Emily couldn't help adding.
"Emily, that's enough. That's all water under the bridge. We will try not to, dear, but I can't promise we will tiptoe around you either, Beth. That's just life, and you must learn to live with the choices you make."
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 married in the next town over and needed to live with them because they were expecting. Mother mostly cried then.
Emily was faithful to write to Josiah, and Mr. Tipton was good to let her read the letters he wrote back. He never included the horrors he must have faced, but seemed to like to respond to what she had written, things like fishing or ripe tomatoes or his dog on the back porch. Heather said he had quit asking about her sister Beth months before even though they never told him that she was married or 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 got home.
It was the middle of November and her sister was very large nearing her due date. Now, she was no help around the house at all. She kept busy making baby clothes and blankets. Pa brought down the cradle from the attic that he had made when she was a baby. They were trying to decide on names. Every one they picked, Emily already had a chicken by that name. That only 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 went outside to see if there was a fire, if they smelled smoke. Finally, Kenny who had played hooky that day to go hunting early with his pa came running up to say the war was over! An armistice had been signed. Emily whispered to herself, "Josiah is coming home," and tears filled her eyes with the sad news of what he would come home to find. It was all she could do not to sob out loud. She grabbed her coat and ran home. Her thoughts were a tumble. She hoped he would not be angry when he found out it was she who had been writing the letters.
Emily had not seen him for almost two years, when she and Heather were fifteen. Sure she had a crush on him then, but it was silly as he only had eyes for her sister. Beth had bawled her eyes out at the kitchen table saying she did not know how she could live without him when he left, while Emily went into her 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 whoever looked at her twice. She was beautiful and knew it. Emily was too, but did not know it, or at least paid no mind. Beth was golden while Emily was a striking beauty with her raven black hair that almost shimmered and eyes that flashed lightening strikes gleaming with a heavy fringe of lashes that swept down in modesty most of the time 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 when he could get her alone in the cloak closet which she carefully avoided. She had even slapped him once, hard. Skip Hawthorne liked her too but was like a moonstruck puppy and followed her everywhere. Because of them, she never even asked to go to any dances. Besides that, she went to the Methodist Church with Heather while Em's parents were Presbyterian. The Methodists frowned upon dancing. She still went and sat by Mr. Tipton on Sundays. Her mother and sister thought it a little odd, but allowed it. It seemed to bring him comfort.
Emily had just come home from school when she heard his a familiar voice in her house. She froze then slipped down weak-kneed to sit on the porch floorboards so as not to be seen. She refused to go in and interrupt what sounded like a heated conversation. She pulled her coat up tighter around her knowing she shouldn't listen, but was so happy to hear his voice again she couldn't tear herself away.
"What happened to your promise to wait for me, Beth? How long did you wait? I haven't been gone two years, and you are married and now due any time. I waited for you. Guys, you know, over there, have a lot of temptations which I resisted for you. I still hoped to find you here waiting even though you quit writing me after the first few months. I was in love with you, you know."
"I was in love with you too."
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 to say, she began sobbing.
Emily knew her sister had no defense. She had been unfaithful in her love seeking pleasure over commitment.
"I just found out you were married, but nobody told me you were in the motherly way too. I guess I had to see that for myself. You must not have waited very long, that's for sure, and he stormed out slamming the kitchen door. Beth ran crying to her room. Josiah stood on the edge of the porch clenching and unclenching his hands.
Emily stood up, "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, blinded by tears just thinking about his little sister.
"She was your best friend. You two 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 came over and gave her a big hug resting his chin on her head. "It's okay. I couldn't have kept my sanity without those letters. We would go weeks without any, but then I would get a whole passel of them at once. I read them so many times, they almost fell apart. I saved them all, you know."
"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. I'm sure you wish you could wipe it all away from your memory."
"Yes and no. There were friendships forged there that were the best. Many of them did not make it, but even those, I'm glad to say, I will see in heaven again one day. I'm sure they've already met my mom and sis. That makes me happy. But the rest, I wish I could forget..." He paused remembering.
"But thanks for writing me, kiddo. He kissed her forehead then held her away from him by her shoulders. Wow. You are not the kid that I remember, Em. I started dating your sister when she was younger than you. You must be making some guy pretty happy."
"Are you kidding? It's been slim pickings with the war and you soldiers marching off. I haven't seen a date I wanted to accept yet." She tried to laugh it off, but his nearness was making her heart do strange poundings, and 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, but she turned her head up to his to say something, but found herself kissed instead. It began gently, then the two years of longing for a kiss seemed to come her way as she wrapped her arms around his neck feeling his hair along his neck in their embrace like she always wanted to. Never had she imagined it could be like this, and she held on tightly.
"Sorry," he said hoarsely, pulling away.
She was sure she was turning scarlet, but was not sorry. "I know you just needed a kiss, and it wasn't really meant for me. But that's okay. Truly, I did not mind one bit," and she was ashamed that she sort of giggled. She drew her hand across his cheek and he took it and kissed her palm.
Just then Beth came out and practically screamed like a crazed person, "Emily get in here this instant!" she hissed. Emily wondered what she would have done if she had seen them a minute earlier.
Josiah put his arm around Emily's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "I was just leaving. Thanks again, sweetheart for writing me all those letters." Now he was mockingly starring at 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.
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 soldier like that anyway."
"What difference does it make to you anyway?"
"A lot."
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 few days later, he came out just as she was delivering her eggs on the back porch.
"You're still doing that, huh?"
"Yes, I'm saving my money for college, but I don't know when I'll have enough. Probably not next year."
"Are you graduating in the spring?"
"Yes, Heather would have graduated with me." She tried to look anywhere else but at his face remembering his kiss. She found herself trembling.
He reached over and took her hand in his pulling her down on the porch step beside her. "That kiss kind of took me by surprise."
"Me too. I did not know it would be like that."
"Like what?"
"It was my first kiss. I don't know, melting."
"Uh, first kisses aren't usually like that. I know what you mean; it was pretty hot. The trouble is, it always leaves you wanting more."
"Yeah," she said softly while he chuckled.
"Well, I'll be, Miss Emily, you certainly have been a pleasant surprise. Sometimes we think we have things figured out, make plans and dreams and 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 until she turned the corner. He figured he'd better not hang around the house on school mornings any more, or he might just make her tardy one of these days.
Sunday came like clockwork, and she wasn't ready. Emily was trying to choose. She wanted to go to church to sit by Mr. Tipton, but now Josiah would be there too. He might think she was just coming for him, chasing him. She hoped Mr. Tipton told him that she always came. She brushed her hair till there was a sheen on it in the morning sunshine bright for a December morning. She decided she would keep on doing what she did before he came home. With her Bible tucked up against her chest, she walked to the little white church.
When Emily paused before going down the aisle, she could see that he was sitting by his father in the usual place. Indeed he did look surprised to see her there catching her eye as he looked around. Mr. Tipton scooted over so that she could sit between them. He leaned over and whispered to his son, "Emily has not missed a Sunday sitting by me since we lost your mother and sister." Josiah looked at her until she had completely sank in his eyes. He reached over and held her hand and did not let go the whole time they were sitting down, only when they stood up to sing out of the hymnals.
The pastor was saying, "We all want to welcome Josiah Tipton back home as an answer to our prayers. We all grieve the loss of his mother and sister however. Welcome, Josiah. And we remember our others who died in the war and in the epidemic."
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 to 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 (tambourines), and shall go forth in the dances of them that make merry."
Emily looked over and saw Josiah on the edge of his seat drinking in the message gripping her hand tightly.
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 the glares of several of the young ladies her sister's age. She realized she wasn't the only one who was 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.
Walking back to his house together, he asked, "Want to eat dinner with us today, Miss Emily?"
"Please, do, darlin','" Mr. Tipton agreed.
"Oh, then maybe I will," she agreed. I think my folks will know where I am. Your father has fed me more than once."
It was a pleasant Sunday dinner. 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. Josiah wanted to hear everything she could remember to tell him about his sister. Then he seemed to get pensive.
"I think the preacher preached that sermon right to me today. I have escaped the sword, and he has brought me to rest out of my 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--my gal, my mother, my sister--I think He was promising me today that He will rebuild me. I just need to find a virgin to dance."
Oh my, did Emily blush then while his father roared with laughter. "You sure are bold, son, my goodness, I can't believe you just said that."
"It's all in the Bible, sir," and he winked at her. "Excuse me for a minute." He left the room.
"My gracious, it's good to have my son home," Mr. Tipton said patting her hand, "and to laugh again. Thank you for coming today and all those other Sundays when I was alone. I won't ever forget that. 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 person to me, Miss Emily."
"Thank you," Emily said.
When he came back in the room, Josiah did not sit down. "Would you walk with me, Miss Emily?"
They walked in silence. 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 in the December sunshine.
"Did my father read you the letter when I said that I had a little souvenir for Heather? Well, it's nothing too special, but I thought she would like it knowing I was thinking of her making it while I sat in a muddy trench in France. I thought maybe you would like it now in her stead. After all, in those days, a body couldn't think of one of you without the other." He pulled out a thin silver band and put it on her finger. "It's just a trinket that we learned to make to beat the boredom to keep our minds off when the next set of explosions would come at us. It's made of a dime drilled and slowly pounded out."
"It's beautiful, more so knowing that you made it for Heather. I am honored you have given it to me, Josiah."
"You know, Emily, I wanted to bring you out here to talk with you. I'm not the kind of fella that can string a girl 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 you were not 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 here and there from some of the other girls. I'm sure you saw them today trying to stare you down. 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 here for him."
"You are very handsome and catch all their eyes, but it's more, Josiah. You are all that a girl could hope for in a man." She spoke so sincerely, he knew it was not pure flattery.
He pulled her closer. "That's what I wanted to ask you. Do you think you could be my girl, Emily? After what 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 before, that it wasn't really 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 just 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.
