Page 106 of All We Thought We Knew
Should he write to her?
He had no news regarding what his future held—when or if he would be released—nor did he know her situation or feelings. But if he didn’t try, he would always regret it.
Gunther clicked on the desk lamp. After settling in the chair, he stared at a blank page of paper a long time before he picked up the pen.
My Dearest Ava,
I know it has been some time since I last wrote. There is much to tell of all that has happened, but I will wait to share the details with you in person.
The purpose of this letter is singular.
Ava, I love you. I have from the moment we first met. When I am once again a free man, will you marry me?
I anxiously await your answer.
Yours forever,
Gunther Schneider
The note was short and inadequate, but it expressed the two most important things he wanted her to know. He loved her and wanted her to become his wife. But time and distance were his enemies. Would she believe he was sincere?
His eyes fell on his Bible.
Yes,he thought. He would send the letter tucked between the pages of the Book hisMuttergave him. Despite all that had happened, he still believed in God’s goodness. Still believed in God’s sovereignty.
He would leave his future, and Ava’s, in God’s hands.
Gunther turned out the light and slept soundly for the first time in months.
THIRTY-THREE:MATTIE
DELANEY HORSE FARM
DECEMBER 1969
Mama came home from the hospital one week before Christmas.
Her homecoming was delayed by setbacks, pain management issues, and a fever that worried Dad more than anything else.
I felt like I’d been in limbo for days, going from the farm to the hospital, only to repeat it again and again. Everything else, including my questions about Gunther Schneider and my roller-coaster emotions, were put on hold while we waited for Mama.
While she lay in the hospital, I’d read to her fromThe Cost of Discipleshipby Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the book Mark gave me the night before he left for Vietnam. Bonhoeffer’s life was fascinating, and it helped me understand my brother’s choices a little better. I still believed both men should have chosen to remain safely with their families rather than risking danger for their beliefs, but I had a new respect for my twin.
The first morning Mama was home, she had a request.
“You need... to decorate... the house... for the holidays,” she said, her voice hoarse, and her breath coming in short gasps.
Nurse Bradford was joined by two other nurses, each of whom took a shift, ensuring Mama had round-the-clock care. One of them—I forget her name—had just gone downstairs to get herself a cup of coffee after staying with Mama all night. Dad slept on the sofa despite Nash volunteering to return to the cottage and offering Mark’s old room.
“Mama, I don’t think any of us are in the mood to celebrate Christmas.”
A scowl came to her swollen face. “Christmas... is about... Jesus... not presents. He... is why... we celebrate.”
I knew I would lose this battle. “All right. I’ll go to the attic later and look for the decorations.”
A soft smile replaced the frown. “That’s... my girl.”
After the nurse returned, I put on a coat and headed outside. A frozen water pipe burst in the barn overnight. While Dad and Nash were busy with repairs, I figured I could help with the horses.
