Page 85 of All We Thought We Knew
My thoughts drifted to the mysterious Gunther Schneider.
Who was he and what had he meant to my mother? The fact that she’d kept his letters was significant. That she wanted me to read them even more so. Nash didn’t believe Gunther and Mama had a romantic relationship, but I couldn’t shake the unsettling possibility that he’d been more to her than a friend. Even though Dad and I didn’t have the greatest bond, he was my father.
My gut churned.
Or is he?
I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to halt that line of thinking.
I’d get answers from Mama tomorrow. Until then, I wouldn’t let my imagination run wild.
But it was many hours before sleep finally came.
• • •
Nash was waiting for me when I came downstairs early Saturday morning.
“I’m going to pick up Fred around ten o’clock,” he said from his place at the table.
I nodded. “I’ll have Dawn’s Rose saddled and ready.”
He met my gaze over the coffee cup he held. “I stopped by his place yesterday while I was in town. I’ve never seen him so excited about anything.”
“I hope it works out the way we all want it to. I’d feel horrible if he was injured or disappointed.”
Nash stood and carried his mug to the sink. “The fact that someone cared enough to see him and offer more than mere sympathy, or worse, apathy or disdain, means more to him than you know.”
The back door opened. Dad and Jake came inside. The dog immediately went to Nash where he received a scratch behind his ears.
“Looks like the weather will be nice for Fred’s riding lesson,” Dad said. His voice held a touch of excitement, and I realized he anticipated the special visitor to the farm as much as Nash. “I have the leather belt ready, as well as a strap to help keep him steady in the saddle. It might help him feel more secure until he can figure out how to stay balanced.”
“I appreciate everything you two have done for Fred.” Nash glanced between Dad and me. “Whether or not this works out, just knowing that someone cared enough to try is huge.”
Dad nodded solemnly. “Mark would want us to help the boys returning from war in any way we can. I would have wanted someone to do the same for him, had he come home.”
My throat convulsed.
I’d never heard Dad talk about Mark since he died. In the days after we received the telegram, informing us of Mark’s death, Dad had kept his grief hidden in the busyness of making arrangements, fielding the many phone calls, and comforting Mama. I knew he loved Mark, but his lack of outward emotions had incensed me. He hadn’t even cried at the funeral but stood stoically grim next to Mama and me as we wept. By the time Pastor Arnold made his unfortunate comment about Mark being a hero rather than a victim a week later, I was an erupting volcano, unable to stop the flow of hot, angry words before I stormed out of the house for good.
Nash left to pick up Fred.
“I’ll get Dawn’s Rose saddled,” Dad said. “I’d like to help, if that’s all right with you.”
His comment surprised me. He certainly didn’t need my permission. But then I remembered the farm had belonged to Mama’s first husband’s family, not Dad’s, as I’d always assumed. A dozen questions rolled through my mind, but now was not the time to voice them. I needed to talk to Mama first.
“I’m sure Fred would appreciate you being there. I don’t really know what to expect as far as his ability to stay in the saddle. It might be best to have both you and Nash on either side of him while I lead Dawn’s Rose.”
With the plan in place, I hurried upstairs to put on my boots. Nurse Bradford was just coming from the bathroom, carrying a hand basin and a load of towels.
“Good morning,” she said, her normal cheery smile in place. “Your mother has just had a shampoo and sponge bath. I’m sure she’d love to visit with you.”
I thanked her and made a detour to Mama’s room. She sat in the chair by the window, wrapped in a fuzzy blue robe with apair of Dad’s wool hunting socks on her feet. Her body sagged, as though she had no strength to keep herself upright.
“There’s my girl,” she said, her words slow and weak.
“How are you today, Mama?” I knelt beside her and took her hand. Her fingers were icy cold.
“Tired of all this.”
