Page 112 of All We Thought We Knew
Tears ran down my face.
I wanted her words to be true. I wanted to believe that God cared about us, but how could I?
I grasped Mama’s warm hand. “I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I’m struggling, Mama. I need to know you’re going to be all right. I need to know you’ll see Mark again.”
Dad joined me a short time later. He gazed down at Mama, and the raw grief on his face nearly undid me. He sat on the edge of the mattress, but Mama didn’t stir. We didn’t speak. It was enough to simply watch and wait. Nurse Bradford checked Mama’svitals every so often. Nash stood like a sentinel outside the door. No one wanted to go to bed.
It was close to midnight when Mama’s breathing changed. Instead of the death rattle Dr. Monahan had warned us of, she took full, deep breaths. We were all surprised when her eyes fluttered open.
She muttered something unintelligible, her head moving back and forth on the pillow. After days of watching her simply lie still, the small movement was startling.
Mama kept mumbling, her eyes searching. Finally her focus landed on Dad.
“Gunther,” she said, shocking everyone with the clarity of the single word. Her entire body instantly relaxed.
I stared in horror as Dad’s face paled. I couldn’t imagine the devastation he must feel, hearing his wife call out for her lover on her deathbed.
Nash came and put his arm around me. When our eyes met, I knew he understood.
“Gunther.” Mama reached a hand toward Dad.
I held my breath.
Would he leave the room, furious and heartbroken?
“I’m here, Ava,” he finally said, his voice thick as he wrapped her hand in both of his. “I’m here, my darling.”
My mouth went slack.
THIRTY-SIX:AVA
DELANEY HORSE FARM
OCTOBER 1945
It had been two months since the package bearing Gunther’s Bible and his proposal of marriage arrived. I’d immediately written to him, declaring my love for him and my desire to become his wife. Yet day after day passed with no word from him. My greatest fear was that he’d been deported and hadn’t been able to get word to me.
There was nothing to do but wait.
Colonel Foster resigned his post after his visit to the farm. I arrived at the office one morning to find a new man in charge. I was disappointed Hew hadn’t said goodbye, but I understood. With his departure, I felt free to leave my position too. Bren cried on my last day, but she and the other girls had plans to move to Nashville and share an apartment as soon as the hospital closed. Everyone, it seems, was ready for a new beginning.
A cool October breeze met me as I exited the barn. Dark clouds and the smell of rain warned of an approaching storm. I’d spent the morning cleaning out stalls and preparing for the arrival of a dozen new horses from Camp Forrest. They’d been used for training purposes, but with the Army vacating the enormous cantonment, the animals required a new home. I still wasn’t sure who gave my name to the sergeant in charge of the stables, but he said he had orders to contact me and offer the horses to us, free of charge. They’d even transport them out to the farm.
The first drops of rain smacked me as I ran for the house. When I reached the porch, I stopped to inhale the fresh scent. I peered out across the farm to see if the horses in the front pasture had taken shelter from the storm, but instead I found a lone figure walking up the drive in the deluge. We’d put an ad in the paper for a stable hand, and I wondered if it was someone coming to apply for the job. Many people couldn’t afford fuel for their vehicles these days, so it wasn’t unusual to see someone walking along the roads.
Rain fell harder as the stranger approached. I squinted through the downpour, wondering who would come out to the farm on such a dreary day. He wasn’t even wearing a hat.
When he reached the middle of the yard, the man stopped. After a moment, he lifted his hand in the air.
I gasped.
It couldn’t be.
“Gunther?”
I don’t remember stepping off the porch, but suddenly I was drenched, running through the mud. I didn’t stop until I was in his arms.
“Ava, Ava,” he said over and over.
