Page 89 of All We Thought We Knew
It had to be from Gunther.
Before I could answer, Ivy Lee entered the room, dressed to the nines. She obviously had a date with her colonel.
“What about North Dakota?” She picked up the envelope from the table. “That’s where all those German spies were sent.” Her blue eyes landed on me, a smirk on her ruby lips. “Don’t tell me you’re correspondin’ with that fella you snuck around with. What was his name? Adolph something?”
Heat filled my face. “I didn’t sneak around with anyone. I helped Mr. Schneider with his English.”
“Why would he contact you?” Gertrude’s scowl deepened. “It isn’t appropriate for a German prisoner to write to an American war widow. Did you invite him to correspond with you?”
I refused to be questioned by these women. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day, and I’d like to lie down. I’ll make a sandwich later.”
I didn’t wait for a response.
I snatched the envelope from Ivy Lee and hurried down the hallway to my bedroom. In the waning light, I leaned against the closed door, the letter clutched to my heart. When my breathing grew normal, I moved to the window. With trembling hands, I opened the envelope, taking care not to rip the edges. A single sheet of folded paper slipped out.
Dear Ava,
I arrived at Fort Lincoln, North Dakota yesterday, a place I had never heard of but now find it is my home. The internment camp is much like the one at Camp Forrest...
Although I could tell military censors read my letter before it reached me, I devoured every word. When I came to the last paragraph, my heart skipped, and I had to reread each word to be sure I hadn’t misunderstood his meaning.
I miss our English lessons and your chicken salad sandwiches. I am ever grateful for the time we shared together. It is bold of me to ask, but I hope you will write to me. It would brighten my day.
Sincerely,
Gunther Schneider
I pressed the back of my hand to my lips to keep from squealing with joy.
Gunther hadn’t forgotten me. He missed our time together and wanted me to write to him.
I read the letter again, and again, memorizing each detail he shared. He’d been assigned to the hospital, for which I was pleased. While not the same as attending medical school, he would continue to gain experience and knowledge, preparing for the day when the war ended or he was released, whichever came first, and he could return to his studies.
I had to send a reply right away. It had taken several weeks for his letter to reach me, whether that was due to his position as an enemy alien or wartime mail service, I didn’t know. I worried he might think I wasn’t going to write back.
Settling at the desk with paper and pen, I stared at the blankpage for a long time. There were so many things I wanted to say to him.
I miss you.
I wish you were here.
I love you.
Yet it was too soon for such revealing sentiments. The future too uncertain. Knowing an official at Fort Lincoln would no doubt read my words before they reached Gunther, I needed to be careful.
I kept my reply lighthearted and general, filling him in on the arrival of the German POWs, news from the farm, and my hope that he stays well.
When I came to the closing, however, my hand hovered over the paper.
How should I sign it? He’d used the wordsincerelyin his letter, but I wanted something less formal and more meaningful. Best wishes? Kindest regards?
His friendship meant more to me than he knew, so I chose to acknowledge it.
Your friend, Ava.
I sealed the envelope, resisting the desire to stamp it with a red lipstick kiss.
“Good night, my dearest,” I whispered, looking out the window to the twinkling stars.Were the skies in North Dakota clear tonight?I wondered.
