Stories From Dirt And Lanny

On The Lake

2010-05-30T14:27:00.001-07:00

Part 1

It was a cool April morning, and Ellen King awoke from an endless night filled with haunted dreams, glad for it to be over, though knowing she had a long day of sorrowful wondering thoughts ahead of her. She slowly walked to her window, on opening it she drew in a deep breath of air filled with the scent of freshly fallen rain. Feeling somewhat refreshed she stood and watched the droplets on the lawn glitter in the sun light.

Realizing the time, Ellen quickly dressed to joined her family for breakfast. The moment she came upon the table Mrs. King announce, “Your father and I have decided we all need a change of scenery, we will be spending the summer at Willow Lake.”

The two youngest, Sarah and Ed, burst out with claps and hurrah’s. Ellen simply stood with a smile growing on her face. Mr. King, in hopes of quieting the noise, added in a business like voice, “we shall be leaving by the end of this month. Only three weeks to prepare. Best we finish our breakfast and get started.”

After breakfast Mr. King sat in his study attending to his paper work, Mrs. King joined him to discus some further plans. As she entered the room Mr. King looked up at her and said “by the smile on Ellen’s face I would say we made a good choice.”

With tears coming into her eyes, Mrs. King said in reply, “I think it will be good for all of us.”

The next three weeks went by very slowly for the King family, but finely the day of departure came. With early morning fog hanging about, they all climbed into the carriage and were off.

“We will be stopping in Doortown tonight”, said Mr. King recalling their travel plans aloud.

“Oh I love Doortown” said Sarah in a rather shrill voice. “Will we be staying long?”

“Only for the night, well, and a little in the morning. Your mother wanted to stop at some shops,” answered Mr. King.

“Oh that cute little hat shop!” declared Sarah.

“And don’t forget Mrs.B’s tea shop,” added Mrs. King.

“No hats or tea for me please,” piped up Ed. At this everyone had a good laugh.

It was long after dark when they reached Doortown, and the whole family was weary from the long drive. Once they were all in their room, Ellen remarked to her mother that she had been enjoying the trip and was looking forward to the next day.

Building A Future, Why Purity?

2009-10-20T18:05:00.000-07:00

Why purity? Other than God calling us to a pure life, lived by a pure heart:

Since you have purified your souls in obeying the truth through the Spirit in sincere love of the brethren, love one another fervently with a pure heart, 1 Peter 1:22

God specifically calls us to keep the marriage bed pure. Hebrews 13:5 Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral.

You know, its funny, how we like to ignore things we don’t think apply to us. But that passage above, it really catapulted Dirt’s and my quest for a better way for our own girls and then to share it with others. Marriage should be honored by all. Honored, not just dealt with, suffered through, eyes rolled at. By all, not just those who are married and not just the marriage you are in, the reality of marriage should be honored by all.

That whole honor the marriage bed has never been easy since the Fall I am sure, but it is doubly hard these days. Marriage is attacked at every point it would appear. Dirt and I believe that marriage is so easily attacked, whether we are talking the concept, the institution, or actual individual marriages, because we really do not understand what marriage is. Mostly, because we don’t deeply know the God who created it and why. And if you don’t know something really well it is hard to honor it or stand up for it when others dishonor it.

We, Cultural Christian Americans, foolishly think we know how to fix bad ones, marriages gone wrong. But Dirt and I are not so sure. Because we, Dirt and I, don’t see the “fixers” just opening their Bible and listening to the Holy Spirit. Yes, some are, a few are and we have gained strength and encouragement from those of whom we know and those we don’t know but hear of. But on the average, fixers aren’t fixin they are mixin’ in a little, um a lot actually, of that which Paul warns against in Colossians 2:8 See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ.

Our human society loves to talk about balance. Balance and self-esteem. Both manifestations of self-love. Both murderous to purity. Therefore, both damaging to the marriage bed. This absurd idea that we need to gain a balance between degradation and legalism needs to be flushed from our brains, collectively and individually.

Not unlike the whole self-centered issue, where self-loathing is no more than the other side of the self-absorption coin, with pride on one side and self loathing on the other; prudishness is just the other side of the perversion coin, the opposite side from promiscuity. God doesn’t want us balanced some where in the middle, sandwiched between the two like the copper in the middle of the quarter. He wants us to discard that ill gotten, ill paying, coin altogether. He wants us to see what He first intended, what He has reconciled to us now through His Son, Jesus Christ, what we can have and hold on too in the midst of this perverse generation that sees only promiscuity or prudishness or sandwiching themselves somewhere in the middle.

He wants us, His children to delight in the gift He gives to those He brings together through marriage. The gift in marriage that proceeds subsequent gifts tied to what the gift is given for. He wants us to see that He invented it and gave it to us, for us. He wants us to see that laying together as husband and wife brings a knowing to one another that surpasses any other sense of knowing. That laying together communicates far more than words, cuts far deeper through the mire than counseling ever could. When husband and wife, the couple under God, enter into one another, takes the other in, that is when they soar beyond man invented psycho babble intended to repair or build.

We, God’s people, need to see that laying together comforts, man and wife, one or both, in a time of grief or pain. We need to see that it is a healing balm, a relief from the pain the fallen world dishes out. It renews and restores. It rebuilds strength. It is the closest connection two people can have. Genesis 24:67 Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he married Rebekah. So she became his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother's death.

We need to see that laying together invites us in on an edge of who He is, our Creator. Procreation. Often this is the only outcome of the marital gift we see, in our narrow mindedness, as common to both the man and the woman. We suppose that to the man it is given as a source of pride and proof, to the woman as an outlet for who she is, a nurturer, a needed distraction from over nurturing the man. And what a load of hogwash that absurd view is. Not only is it not the only common result of husband and wife relations, the result is far more than a source of pride and an outlet for nurturing.

Each one of the godly outcomes of laying together are given to both the man and the woman in spite of the twisted and perverted cultural sense of things. The man and the woman, husband and wife, become one through it, like no two people can become one, as only we can with God at God’s hand. I cannot achieve that oneness, that one flesh-ness, even with the children that ushered forth from my body. It is the one bond that I see cannot even be broken by an issue of faith. I am called to be ready to leave brother or sister, father or mother, child even, for the sake of Christ. But I am not allowed to leave myself for the sake of Christ. Only if an unbelieving spouse insists on leaving, am I given to let them go, it is their call from lack of Faith, not my call from a position of faith. ( This permission actually comes from Paul himself not from God. 1Corinthians 7:12-16)

In this incredible oneness, both the man and the woman enjoy the many beauties of being husband and wife. Perhaps on any given day it is the man who needs the comfort that the marriage bed provides. The wife may need it the next day. One day the wife needs the pleasure and laughter it brings, the next week the man or both at the same time.

This is the beauty that purity protects. And not just mere physical purity although it is huge, but spiritual purity as well. Who or what do we set up as an idol? What do we give way as more important than God? With what do we cheat on Him with? We feel uncertain and untrusting when we enter a marriage from an impure stand point. We find it difficult to allow another person the access to our very being that the relationship between a husband and a wife can achieve, is meant to achieve in Christ.

Would it be right to say that we are most reconciled when we are most vulnerable? Certainly to be reconciled one must first become vulnerable. Open yourselves up, trust Christ to redeem your very soul, care for you, lead you and present you to His Father.

When we talk about marriage, we are talking about our, the church’s, relationship with Christ and visa-versa.

For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as the Lord does the church. For we are members of His body, of His flesh and of His bones. “For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” This is a great mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the church. Nevertheless let each one of you in particular so love his own wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband. Ephesians 5:29-33.

Letter From the Trunk: Letter Two

2009-04-09T11:16:00.000-07:00

I've sorted through the letters in Grandfather's trunk and I believe I have them all in order now. I was surprised to find that the letters from this Michael person that were referenced were not included in the trunk. This second letter from Elisabeth to Anna also included this interesting cartoon about the Franco-Prussian war. Clearly it effected even the countries that remained neutral.

To Anna VanderMoere
Beveren, Belgium

From Elisabeth VanderMoere
Liege, Belgium, October 23, 1870

Dear Sister,

I am glad heartened to hear that things are going well for you and Henry. Have you seen Michael lately? Does he ask about me? He did not answer my last letter, I was certain that he would be happy that I did not have to leave for America after all. I know that the harvest season is busy for him but it has been nearly two months. Do not pester him for an answer dear Sister, I would hate for him to write from obligation. I do not desire to be written to out of mere obligation. Obviously if this silence continues I will have to consider that he closed his heart to me when I left last year. I will have to understand that no matter what happens for his future that I will not be in it. But his answer to my first letter did not indicate that his heart had changed.

I am sorry that you have not heard from Georges Nagelmackers, I was hoping that he would contact you himself but it is clear he cannot bear to disappoint those around him who have taken on his vision as if it were their own. Final decisions have not been made but the whole situation is going poorly.

It has been hard on him these last few months. He was hoping that the developments between France and Prussia would subside quickly, he had such hope in civilized man. But the power hungry must have their fill even when it is at the expense of those not involved.

Leopold II will not grant him the permits to use the rail cars. He claims that it could be perceived as favors to Prussia by Napoleon III, sometimes our beloved French friends can be rather babyish, I think sweet baby Joris could handle this better. The French are so jealous of the Prussian railways and do not want to see any more developments that would prove to be an advantage for them.

It is no use for him to keep at it, Georges has even had words with HJW Frere-Orban. The Nagelmacker family ties go deep around here Dear Sister but what good is it really? He only desires to bring civility to travel but instead we have to worry more about who might become upset.

The other distressing news is, even if he did get the permission to build his train there are problems with the weight. Georges is beside himself that he cannot figure out why the wheels do not hold up. But they do not and so the first trial cars have been stripped of many of the amenities. The kitchen dear Sister, was the first to go. It is so very heavy and even after they took out the kitchen Georges still had to find weight to take off.

Oh, dear Sister this is so hard on him, who knows when this ridiculous war will be over, or what will be the outcome, he talks about being squished in the middle of these two countries, all of us being squished our lives being controlled by the power hungry. Hopefully our dear Belgium can hold to her neutrality.

As for myself, I am still at the family house I spend a good deal of time with his mother, I have in fact become a companion of sorts for her. She watches me draw and paint and has set up a beautiful studio in the conservatory. She is an avid gardener and becomes delighted with the sketches I make while I go through the garden at her side.

She has included me in the family life, I do not dine with the servants but with family in the grand dining room and she and I take breakfast and tea together in her rooms.

I still work with Georges when he needs to go over changes, I certainly cannot do the intricate drawings that the engineers need but I seem to be able to translate what they draw and what Georges talks about into pictures of what it will look like when it is built. However, I rarely go into the offices anymore as Madame loves to keep me here with her as her special pet. But Georges is consumed and hardly ever stops his work to rest or eat let alone anything else.

Even though it doesn’t look hopeful with the war, Georges and his engineers continue to work on the wheel problem and putting together cars with wheels that will hold up under the extra weight for the time being. He works day and night shifting things around so that the wheels withstand the weight under turns. Or he goes off on the wheels themselves and tries to figure out a different make up of the wheels. Often he is up in the library late and calls me in to help him work through a design. Again please do not worry I make sure that I take one of the chamber maids with me.

He has so many things weighing on him I believe he is fatigued, even things not concerning the train wear on him. Night before last he went on and on about why he went to America. He was so in love with his cousin Margaret, but she was cruel to him to the core. I asked Madame about it and she said that Margaret was ruthless when he proposed marriage, sneering at him about his age and his chosen field. She felt that he should have gone into finance as everyone in the family has.

He spoke about how he only loves her, still loves her and will never love anyone else but that she has gone and married a Cassel and moved to Paris. It was not only an affront to Georges but the whole family the Cassel she married was by no means a suitable love interest as he is known to not enjoy women in the slightest. Madame says it was clearly out of spite, his family is at odds with theirs in the banks.

He has taken all of this so hard, the train car delay, the war, the news of Margaret. He is such a strong, handsome caring man, always working and seeing no difference between people, I cannot imagine him never loving again. He is so good. I hope that with time he can overcome the damage to his heart she has done. It is painful to have love thrown back for no apparent reason.

Even when you are privileged there doesn’t seem enough in the world to cover for the pain.

Sister, I did want to tell you how I am so fond of you and the care you have taken of me. I cannot express enough to you how good it was that you made me take French lessons. Madame says that my French is very good. She confided in me that when George first told her that he had an assistant from Beveren that he would be struggling with the Dutch. He knows several languages but Dutch is not one of them that he has strongly practice. She says he is very lazy in that aspect and a bit of a snob.

He makes me laugh when he tries to talk to me privately when there is someone in the room who speaks only French. There have been a few times when he has a sense of humor in all of this. I wish we could all see more of his light side, the side I saw when we first met, when his visions were his delight instead of his obsession.

So the best news for last, I will get a chance to see you soon. Madame is fond of the sea in autumn and says she will only travel if I accompany her. She is planning a trip to Oostende, I hinted that it would be nice for me to stop in and see you and the babies on the way and she seemed favorable to the idea even though home is not on the fastest road to Oostende she indicated that it would be delightful for her to stop in Antwerpen to visit while I go on and see you. I would not put the pressure upon you to presume to have her to the house. We leave in four more days!

See you soon, your loving little sister,

Elisabeth

Letters From The Trunk: The First Letter

2009-03-10T03:25:00.000-07:00

To Anna VanderMoere
Beveren, Belgium

From Elisabeth VanderMoere
Liege, Belgium, August 14, 1870

Dear Sister,
I am so sorry that you have not had a letter from me as it has been so long. How are all the sweet babies and how is dear Henry? I miss you all so much.

I am well, very well indeed. I hope you did not think me dead, for I am alive, very much alive.
You may notice that this letter is not posted from the Americas as you perhaps were expecting. Let me tell you how it has come to be that I never left the shores of France.

I was on the dock that day, I felt so alone after you had to leave me there. Please don’t upset yourself over having to leave me there all alone, your babies needed you far more than I did. It may very well have been the best thing that you left me to wait until they let steerage passengers on, the very best thing. But I confess I did not wait like the good girl you asked me to be. And yes dear sister I nearly ruined my life but I do believe that you will be please at how it has all turned out.

I became bored and stashed my few things under a crate, first I had grabbed out my smallest sketch pad and I began to wander the docks. Please don’t worry about my things they are fine, I fetched them up later. I am not sure how I managed it but I ended up standing right at the end of the passenger gangway of a ship that had just docked from America. I stood there, right at the throat of the grand descent as everyone flowed from off the ship. I was hurriedly scratching images of faces as they came down the gangway, so many expressions.

I must say I am so thankful to Flora to have given me her grey stripe, I must have looked so business like because a man came down and took notice of me. He had the biggest grin on his face and walking like a man who could never be happier or more eager. When he spotted me, he asked me if I was some name or other, grabbed me by the elbow, told me to start writing and "wasn’t it good that I had my notepad out already," he says.

Oh dear Sister, you will never believe my fate, for that is what it is, true providence. And when I finish telling you all of it, I believe you will see it as so, with me.

I thought at first it was going to turn out horrible. For he wouldn’t listen to me try to tell him I was not who he thought I was, and just insisted in talking so fast. Well I wrote as best I could but then he started describing this train car thing where there are bed chambers and beautiful chairs and so I just began to draw what he was telling me to write.

When we got out of the crowds, well away from the docks and after my ship was done boarding I fear, he spun me around, for he still had hold of my elbow, and asked if I “had gotten all that.”

I nearly burst into tears. Actually I did start to cry a bit and I believe he saw how frightened and speechless I was. He took hold of my pad and began to leaf through the ten or more pages of just the things he had told me. At first he looked as if he were going to be so angry when he figured out that I was not a secretary at all. But he flipped back through my sketches and finally let go of my elbow as ran his hand up through his hair.

“Oh I am an idiot. Can you forgive me,” he says.

“Well yes, but I believe I will have missed my passage.” I say.

“To where are you traveling? Where are your companions or your guardian?” He asks.

“America,” I answer.

“I just came from there. With a wonderful idea! “ He exclaims, grabbing for my elbow again.

“But you did not say who you were traveling with.” He says as he looks back down at me, he is so tall, as tall as Michael I think.

I ducked my head dear sister for you know my pride. I cannot stand the thought of our current situation. But he would not let go, I did not fight him for I did, all of a sudden, become fearful of having left where you had placed me. Oh dear Sister, to be on the docks alone, the thought now frightened me. And he seemed safe and gentle. Except for all that, for the life of me, I could not answer him. But he was patient and waited for my answer.

Finally I choked out that I was indeed alone and that I was waiting to board in the steerage compartment of the ship docked a way down from the one he had just left.

He pushed me back by my elbow. Not in a contemptuous manner, but so that he could get a better look at me.

“I am so stupid,” He exclaimed again. “I can be so blind, utterly blind. How can I have this vision, this grand vision if I cannot even see the difference between a clerk girl and a common girl? But your sketch book, in my defense it looked like a note pad.”

I dropped my head again. Dear sister, I was so afraid. What was I going to do? I could never get my passage fare back. I had nothing but my packages. But at that moment I did not even have them.

“I need to go fetch my things that I stashed, sir. I’m afraid…”

Well he did not let me go and he did not let me finish my plea for freedom from his grasp. I was thankful for this, for I felt safer with his attendance than without. Instead he spun us around and pointed us to the direction that we had just come.

We did not walk briskly as clearly he was trying to think through what exactly to do with me, for he certainly appeared to be of an honorable sort.

He kept commenting on how accurately I had sketched his thoughts.

“Do you know what you were sketching?” He finally asked with a proud note to his voice.

I replied that I was not really very sure. Yes, dear Sister I know I told you I was sketching a train car and that it had bed chambers in it, and beautiful dining tables and chairs and servers.

Well he went on to explain that he had just come from a trip across the continent of America, he says it is huge. He traveled on trains that had what were called “Pullman cars”. He had come home to begin to build trains like that here. Passenger trains for elegant travel. By the time we had reached my parcels he had told me his whole plan. He is going to make a passenger train to go from Paris to the East. Not just any train, it must be the height of luxury. He desires that people would travel just to travel on his train.

His name is Georges Nagelmackers and he has hired me. We have gone around with my sketches to the different manufacturers. I go with him in case the manufacturer cannot do exactly as it is drawn, so I draw what the manufacturer says he can make and Georges Nagelmackers decides if what he sees is acceptable. At the chair maker I drew for hours until they finally agreed on a design.

Mr. Pullman is helping him and is planning to come from America to see him soon. Georges Nagelmackers’ family is very wealthy and he does not need to worry about expense. His father, I have met him, seems very happy that Georges has found something “to sink his teeth into” as he says, and is willing to help him with anything he may need. Oh my, I just realized what liberties I just now took with his name. Will you forgive me? But we have been working so many hours together and I always have to address him as he goes quickly into his mind and must be called out. Dear Sister please forgive me for my over familiarity. We are very careful and he has never taken advantage of me, we are always in the accompaniment of at least one clerk and when he leaves the room I am never alone with any of the male clerks. There are not many girl clerks but when we work at the offices doors are rarely closed. Please do not be frightened for me. I am trying ever so hard to be good and decent so to make you and Henry and the babies proud of me.

He has paid me handsomely for my work and so I am sending most of the money on to you. I am living in the servants’ quarters at the main household of the Nagelmackers and so I am not in need of much. I took out a little for a clothing allowance but the rest is yours dear Sister. I do hope that this will help so that dear Henry will not lose the farm.

Now here is the very best part for you dear Sister. Georges Nagelmackers has requested your recipes. Isn’t that just the grandest idea!

I told him of the special way you prepare oysters and a few of your special cakes and that heavenly thing you make with cream and Frank's special drink that he makes when any of us has a birthday or a special day. He is sending you a special post with a document about the use of your ideas. He is also sending payment and an understanding of future payment if you would supply him with changes for his menu. The first trip is coming up soon so please do not delay in sending him instructions for his cooks and chef. If it were not for your precious babies that need your care, I do believe he would have sent for you yourself.

I am so excited to have you as a part of our adventure, even if you cannot be right here. I do not know what I will do when Georges has finished with the designing of his vision and he no longer needs my sketches. That time is coming soon I am afraid.

I am trying hard to apply all of the things that you taught me in hopes that the Nagelmackers will soon see a need for having me in their employment a while longer.

Oh there is so much more to tell and after the first trip there will be more than one letter could possibly hold. But I must get this in the post so that it arrives before Georges business post or you will not know what to make of it I am afraid.

Until my next letter,
Love your dear little sister,
Elisabeth

Tea Time

2008-10-12T22:57:00.000-07:00

"My stomach is growling," I said to no one in particular.

"Oh Ted," whined Marsha, "Can you ever stop thinking of food?"

"Look, you Americans have a ridiculous habit of putting all your food into a couple of meals. You eat enough to feed an army in one sitting."

"That's mean."

"No, that's incredibly unhealthy. Coffee does not make a meal. It's gross how you live on it all day and then pack away a family sized platter of pasta," I rambled as I packed my cameras into my fanny pack as I was thinking, "Thank goodness that whole fanny pack thing still lives on for old bald guys."

"You just had lunch!" Thane squealed from his swivel chair by the recorder.

I shook my head thinking, "He really shouldn't try to talk with the headphones on, why can he hear our conversation but he can't hear how stupid his voice sounds."

I continued to load my pack and pockets. We really needed to get this right this time. I'm sick of spending time in this rust bucket van with these two Philistines. This assignment is just one more reason I resent having come to the States. Oh, what a guy won't do for his kids.

Marsha was getting her boots on, what a doll; spiky heels, hot body, fantastic face, and incredible hair she flips around. One more proof that culture has nothing to do with how you look. Civilized? This woman is a mess. She can speak well but can't say a thing. Her taste for fashion is impeccable but her taste in men and friends, now that is sad. What a mess.

And Thane? What another giant mess. He thinks that getting ahead in the department has more to do with the cool clothes he can wear instead of the work he turns in. Like someone is impressed with his Helmut Lang when he can't even get the dang equipment to work right so we don't look like boobs. Who pays two-forty for jeans anyway? Who is stupid enough to do that? Must be nice having momma pay all your real bills.

"Okay, I'm out of here, are you ready Marsha? We need to get this done so I can have a decent tea time today. We have one hour."

"If you two would listen to me then we will be fine," Thane quipped.

"You know Thane, how about you just make sure you have the stupid knobs pointing in the right direction so I can hear you," Marsha fought back, always making sure that proper blame be continually reinforced.

"Come on Marsha, he'll be okay, he wants this as much as we do."

"I'm not so sure," she barked as she leapt from the box van.

She headed off in the direction of the jewelry store as I dawdled behind, disconnecting ourselves. Watching her through the window work the slick salesman I wonder again why her personal life is such a bloody mess. I shake my head in a sick sense of amusement as I push the door open. I get the I'll help you in a moment nod from the salesman. Give me a break what self respecting salesman would ditch an obvious sale to help the likes of me.

"Oh, go help that nice man. I'll just look at these for a while, don't mind me." Marsha was good, so nonchalant, so easy. But tea time awaits, lets hit it.

The salesman crossed the showroom floor over to me. And I gave him my best pitch for taking a look at my hot rocks. I got him comfortable and willing to look at the stuff before I pull them out making sure to be very guarded against the door and the shopper, Marsha.

He takes the bait. He verbally acknowledges that he understands they are hot, he goes behind to the till and pulls out my asking price. Thane is catching all of this and encouraging Marsha to be ready to move. The trade takes place, the camera records the transaction, Marsha's gun is in his face. And back up is through the front door. It all goes so smooth like it is supposed to go all the time, our skill is back.

Cuffs and statements and the backroom begins to be emptied out of evidence. A good afternoon is done and just in time for tea before I black out.

"Marsha, you want to join me for a respectable meal?"

"Sure," she says as she grabs her bag and I dump my fanny pack and old man gear into the back of the car parked behind the rust bucket that I hope we won't see for a while.

For Elise - Chapter I

2008-09-23T00:13:00.000-07:00

Mark was flat out spent. He had come through a restless night, constantly waking to make sure she was still there, still alive, still breathing. All night her breath was sweet, her face tender in the candle light. But now the candle was out and he was too. Out of answers, out of questions, out of strength, out of places to go.

For that matter where was he? Ahh, Indiana. He had forgotten for a moment everything but the why. That he knew. He doubted he would ever forget why he was where he was right now, physically, mentally and emotionally. He had taken his new life, his new role for granted. He had continued on as usual and nearly lost her. Forever. It was too weighty a thought without enough sleep. He hadn't lost her, that he knew, but he still could if he doesn't get it turned around and figured out. But it is too early, he is too tired. The night is over, he may as well roll out of this makeshift bed, a mattress on the floor in a huge empty room.

The whole house is huge, enormous, empty, nearly forgotten in the wild wooded part of his dad's family farm. As a kid he came up to the woods to hunt but no one really used the big house after World War ll. The place was huge, and probably not energy efficient with all these giant windows but it served Grandfather Samuel and his dream of a sanitarium well. Too late for his first wife, how must Samuel have felt to hold his wife in his arms while she lay dying of tuberculosis? How did it feel to find out you had a gift to heal people after your wife dies?

Shaking off the thought he pushed himself upright, his head pounding, his feet shocked by the rough stone floor. The cold light pouring through the bank of windows seems so harsh. Harsh, not soft, not gentle. This color of light, this predawn cold light, he is very used to moving in, usually already at work by this time, a good time to shoot. The animals are up stirring by now in the cold but soft light. Good light for shooting but not for feeling comfort when you're spent.

He takes in the room. What was this room for? Big and open, with these giant arched windows going all the way around the half moon shaped room. Just a short wide hallway from the largest kitchen he had ever seen. He had been far more interested in the farm and woods than learning about the inside of this enormous funky house. More like his dad in that, outside and not a lot of people. But trying to think about things was hurting his head. He was just glad that they had gotten here in the daylight yesterday to find the lights, bring in the mattress from the back of the moving van. He was pleased right now that he had presence of mind last evening to think about this time, what his head might feel like, what it would need, coffee. Before he locked up the truck he not only got out the mattress and the box of sheets and blankets but also the kitchen box marked M-O-R-N-I-N-G.

Locked up the truck! Ha! That's funny now, looking out the bank of windows on the ground floor from the room where they had slept, down the short outer hallway with the same windows to the kitchen, no signs of life outside these windows, not the life that would care about taking anything from a moving van anyway. He shook his head at his absurdness as he pulled back the packing tape on the top of the box. He never worried about his stuff when he was out in the wilderness shooting but once he gets back to civilization it is always: lock up and alarm up. People paranoia. Even though this was not the wilderness it certainly was not swarming with people.

The coffee press was out on the counter, coffee grounds in it and the tea kettle filled and on the burner.

"Come on baby, light." He begged as he struck a match and turned the knob. "Come on baby what?" a groggy light voice came from the doorway.

Man she is beautiful. Even with those ugly bandages on her small wrists, ugly reminders of his stupidity. "Light," he replied, "I was telling it to light. I need coffee, you?"

"Telling who to light?"

"The burner."

"Oh, I didn't know that helped," she said softly as he lifted her to the counter next to the coffee bag and the press.

He sank his shoulder into her belly tucked his head under her arm at her elbow and wrapped his arms around her backside. Oh, she was soft and warm. And smelled fresh and soapy. How does she do that without a shower after riding in a smelly old moving van for hours.

She was rubbing his shorn hair, her tender fingers played on his neck as her legs slowly wrapped around his waist. He felt her body melting around his chest and head, he was enveloped in her, feeling her amazing sweetness, tenderness; love. How could she love him? He wasn't worth this tenderness, he was self-absorb, arrogant, impatient. He let out a sob.

"Oh please don't," she whispered, "I'm sorry, I won't ever do it again, I don't know what came over me. Maybe I was lonely. But really, I won't do it again I promise. Just please, don't cry. I'm so sorry."

Oh the pain, he couldn't stop, now it came in a flood. His body was racking with the sobs and her soft body was absorbing each of them. It had been waiting for a weeks now. Ever since he heard the news on his satellite phone. It had waited while he got on the plane and came rushing home to her. It had waited in the hospital while he listened to what the doctors said about the depths of the cuts, the nerve damage that would eventually heal with time, waited as the psychiatrist talked of precautions, signs, medicine and therapy. Waited for the arrangements to get the keys to this place and the long drive here. Waited through those first nights away from the hospital and now the first night away from hotels on the road and the smells that weren't theirs, but now he was done in, tired, unsure and sorry. But here she was, apologizing. He couldn't take it, the fragile one, the tender one, was being strong for him, she was holding him up, her and the counter. He was the one who was sorry.

"See, there is the kettle it's whistling," she spoke now in a slightly louder voice. "Fix me coffee. Really I am sorry, I don't mean to be so much trouble. I really promise to not do it again, I'll take the medicine, I'll pay attention to my diet. I'll be okay. I won't need a baby sitter, you can go back to your picture taking, I won't worry about you, I know it was silly to worry about you. Please, the water is ready, we need some coffee."

The tea kettle finally won out. That and the fear in her voice pushed him away from her, fear got them here in the first place but then she had feared because of his sense of invincibility not his weakness. He pulled his tee shirt up over his face and wiped down the unfamiliar slime. He poured the hot water into the press over the grounds and put the plunger on the top of the hot water and coffee slurry.

"Do you want something to eat? Anna has packed some muffins and stuff into this box." He was grateful for his little sister like he had never been before. He thought he was grateful that day he came home from a shoot up in Canada and her little friend, her musician friend, was there at his parent's house. He had heard about her in Anna's e-mails, how she was living at home with her folks and playing music . She was beautiful she moved about the room so gracefully as if the music was playing in her head and she was floating to it. She was young. Impossibly young. So pretty. He had to at least try.

He had listened to Anna's urging for him to date her and finally he got up the nerve to go to Elise's father and ask if it would be alright to take her out. He had no idea why he was being so formal, so old fashioned, he had never done that before. He wasn't quite sure why he thought he needed to go talk to her father before even asking her for a small afternoon date. He just was. And the next thing he knew as he was talking to her father he was blurting out how he was sure that he wanted to marry her but he wanted to talk to him to make sure that it was okay. Where did that come from? Yes, he had wanted to be married, for a long time a very long time. His folks had a good marriage. He knew it was a good thing. He was certainly ready financially, secure in his free lance photography, well sought after. But that had taken time and he was old, this was his baby sister's friend what ten, eleven years between them.

Her father was very understanding. They talked all afternoon, the two men. Her mother had kept the children from interrupting them, she brought lunch on a tray, then a while later, hors d'oeuvres and cocktails while they continued to talk. They talked about how she needed a good man, that she needed someone who was well grounded not only in his work but in his spiritual life also. Mark had assured Scott, her father, that he had a good relationship with God. That when he was in town he attended a good solid church and while he was out on assignment he corresponded with the pastor and some of the men in the church. He understood his role in a marriage as a leader and that it might be hard while on the road but lots of marriages worked even though the husband was away a lot. Military, sales, business. They worked, his photography wasn't really different. Why were they talking about all of this? He had only seen her a few times at his house with his sister. They had hardly spoken themselves. But he had known. He had known from the very first moment he saw her. All the following moments had only served to confirm his feelings. But this, this laying out of their future, this was weird.

Her father explained how even though she was a gifted musician she was not looking for a career. She really just desired to be a wife and mother and if her music fit in then she would pursue it. Mark hadn't been really all that sure of the extent of her music he knew she was already studying at the Jacobs school of music at University of Indiana but was very surprised to hear that she was a gifted composer already at eighteen. How could he expect her to give that all up so soon, before it even started, she was so young. What talent, they would have lots of time before they would need to start a family. He could wait for children but he couldn't wait for her. He kept those thoughts to himself though, he didn't want her or her parents to think that he didn't want children, that wasn't true, she needed time.

But maybe he had been terribly wrong then. He just didn't know. He felt foolish. Her parents had trusted him, believed in him and had given their precious oldest daughter to him. They still trusted him, even after all this mess. They had been completely okay with him when he told them that he bringing her out to the country to live in his great-grandparent's big house, he wasn't so sure himself but he new, felt it deep inside that this was where she needed to be. But then it was closer to the families than New York where he had thought she would be happy. This place was huge but he had assured her parents and his that they did not have to inhabit the whole house so that she wouldn't be overwhelmed. The job thing that was different though, he had no idea what he was going to do. He knew that he was going to give up what he thought he was going to do all the rest of his life. How often do you find a job that not only pays well but is something you love to do and do well. But he decided moments after he had heard the news that he was done. And he was glad to be done. He certainly loved her more that he loved his work.

"I'm going to go get a few things from the truck," he announced as she sat on an old stool pulling apart a muffin and sipping on her coffee. "You need anything out of there right away?"

"I'm not sure what I need. Nothing right away, I guess. You brought my bag in last night and all my pills and stuff I need now are in there. Did Joseph say if any of the showers work?"

"Yah, he did. He said that he knew for sure that all the ground floor plumbing and electricity worked. But that he couldn't vouch for any of the other floors."

He left the kitchen and came back with her bag. "Here," he said bending down and kissing her upturned wrist as he sat her bag next to her feet. "Do you need a glass of water?"

"Oh, please, thank you."

He reached into the box and grabbed out another coffee cup. Funny how a person never really thinks of glasses as being necessary in the morning, especially if they are coffee drinkers like they all were. He filled it from the sink in the center of the work counter and turned to hand it to her as he stooped to pick her bag back up and hold it open for her so she could retrieve her pills.

"Thanks, but I thought you were heading out to the truck. Are you going to start unloading it? I can help with the small stuff."

"No, go take a shower, if that's what you were wanting to do. I was just going to get out a few things, and leave the big stuff for later."

"I've never moved like this before, I'm not really sure what to do?"

"It's okay, I've never moved this much stuff before either but Anna and John will be here later today. She's capable, at least she has actually moved a household."

"I'm very grateful for Anna." Elise's voice got quiet. Mark guessed that she was remembering that Anna had been the one who found her. Saved her life.

What a bizarre coincidence that was. He still had a hard time wrapping his head around how it all played out. Anna had come to New York to surprise Elise all because John had had some business in Morristown, New Jersey. Since they were driving a truck to pick up equipment she didn't know exactly when she could get to New York and didn't want Elise to wait around. John had promised Anna that either he would run her in or she could rent a car and take herself in. They had both told him that when they got to Morristown there had been a lot to do on the equipment before it was ready, a couple of days worth, so Anna left John to deal with it and took a car in to see her sister, always close as friends but now really her sister.

Anna had a key to the apartment from a previous trip so she just let herself in not expecting to find Elise home during the day. She was moving quickly to the bathroom because with the baby pressing on her bladder and not wanting to stop until she got there, she just needed to get to the toilet. She didn't make it. When she opened the door to the bathroom there was her sweet sister lying in a pile of blood it, was a mess. Mark had never gotten a good description from Anna on what she had found. He figured she didn't want to tell him and he was not sure he wanted to hear it from her. He had read the report at the hospital from the paramedics, poor Anna it sounded horrible. She had acted fast, wrapped Elise's wrists tight in towels, called for help, went in the ambulance with Elise and it wasn't even until she got to the hospital that she had noticed that her own pants were soaked from the surprise and shock. The nurses had given her some scrubs to wear when she sheepishly told them her mishap. They had told him they were amazed at Anna's focus on Elise and her strength. So many people told him so many things it was hard to take it all in.

"I am too." He kissed her forehead and walked toward the door wondering if it was okay to leave her when thoughts of that day were obviously coming up. But he couldn't control when she will think of it, she will certainly have to work through memories and thoughts like this, some on her own.

He turned to her, "Did you wanna take a shower or what? I won't be but a minute," trying to keep his voice nonchalant especially after his bizarre emotional outburst earlier.

"Uh, I'm not sure. Just thought it would be a nice way to wake up, but I'm awake now. I think I'm just going to put my clothes on, save the shower for after we get this dust stirred up and sweat a little." She said working it out, out loud.

Being reassured by the tone of her voice he continued to head out the back door. "Suit yourself, we have a life time." He quipped. Ooh, was that a weird thing to say now? That was a stupid phrase he always used, especially when those around him seemed to be indecisive. Oh well, it was out now.

Out at the truck, he put his mind in organization mode and tried to not let his thoughts drift back to all that had happened. He unlocked the back doors and swung them wide open, the three of them, he, Anna and her husband John had talked about strategically packing for when they got to their destination. That is why the essentials; bedding, and morning stuff was pack in last, so he could get it out by himself and make Elise as comfortable as possible until John and Anna could get out here. He could have just relied on Joseph, the fellow that rented the farmhouse and ran Dad's horse project, but he hated to impose at a busy time like fall. He wasn't sure if it was all that helpful, him standing here surveying the contents and figuring out what could go in now and what he shouldn't bother with until help arrived in the shape of Giant John. Maybe he should just go do something...

"Hey, Mark," a gravelly voice behind him spoke.

Mark turned to see Joseph standing at the foot of the ramp.

"Hey, how's it going. Glad to see you. Thanks for opening the house and checking on the water and electricity for us." Mark said as he stepped out of the truck and took Joseph's hand to shake.

"Not a problem. I came up to see if there was anything I could do for you?"

"When did you drive in?" Mark asked seeing the old farm truck sitting there. "I didn't hear the truck."

"Well then, you're loosing it boy, cuz I saw you unbuckle the back doors as I was coming down the driveway." Joseph replied in a jesting manner.

"Oh," Mark couldn't imagine being so preoccupied as to not hear and see things in his surroundings, that was his job, to always be aware of potentialities. "John's going to be here later to help me unload, but if you could loan us some time it sure would help it go faster and smoother. I know Elise can't really do much lifting and Anna probably shouldn't. She is nearly as big as a house, have you seen her lately?" He began to laugh at the recent shape his little sister had taken, round wouldn't really describe it.

Joseph joined in the laughter, "Holy cow, she is huge! I was over at the Big Farm day before yesterday when they had just gotten back. She was getting out of… guffaw," He was having a hard time talking for all the laughing, "...she could hardly get out of Giant John's damn truck. Then she's standing there in front of me and I couldn't say anything. All I could see was this huge gut, who knew a girl could get so big!"

The men were uncontrollably laughing, interjecting words like, "enormous."

"...beached whale. " Joseph waddled around with his hands on his overly arched back.

"Can't touch her toes…" Mark got out, not quite bending over in imitation.

"Thar she blows! "

They were in tears guffawing so loudly it took twice for Elise to shout over their hilarity and be heard.

"I can't believe you two are laughing at her." she tried to sound indignant for her best friend and sister, but there was a slight smile at the corner of her mouth.

"What, oh, yah" they both sputtered, trying to regain composure. "Sorry, we uh got carried away, uh sorry…"

It didn't work. All three began to laugh and cry and howl together till their sides ached and tears were streaming down leathery old skin and creamy white skin alike. Slowly they ran out of strength and comparisons and the laughter petered out to just small bursts of half laughs. Their sides hurt but Mark was glad for the release, laughing was good medicine. It didn't wipe away all that he had been through, and all the tough road of healing ahead. He was sure one laughing session hadn't cured Elise, but her face was bright like he remembered it used to be. He felt better than he had in weeks, maybe even longer.

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"Wadda you up to this morning little lady?" Joseph asked when he could finally speak. Joseph was a nice older man, strong, kind and interested in everything, but mostly everyone. He was the most personable animal guy, farmer, outdoors person that Elise had ever met. She had always hoped that her husband, Mark, would turn into just such an old man. They had similar builds and similar mannerisms so it really wasn't that far off a thought, she would be happy indeed if her husband turned out to be such a cute little old man.

"Oh I just came out to see what all the ruckus was about. I didn't expect to find you two to taking advantage of a helpless woman."

"Don't go getting all high and mighty missy," Joseph sternly spoke as he wiped a remaining tear streak from her face, "Think you were laughing a bit too at her expense!"

"Oh, you won' t tell on me will you?" Thinking that the last thing she would want was for her dear Anna to feel badly treated.

"Maybe, unless you do me a favor, " darling old Joseph replied with a twinkle in his eye.

"Please, tell me what I can do to seal your secrecy."

"How 'bout you come back down to the farm with me, I could use an extra hand with one of the colts this morning. I'll have you back in time to boss everyone around."

She whipped her face around to her husband, "you wouldn't mind would you? I'm not of much use and I'm not sure what we can get done before John gets here anyway, would you come with us too, please?"

"That'd be great, I wasn't really doing anything that was worth it here anyway. Let me just call Anna and have her call us when they are on there way."

Elise bounced into the center of the truck's cab. There was something incredibly comforting and restoring about being in an old truck. She loved coming to the farm when she and Anna became good friends in Jr. High and big old farm trucks were a vital part of those memories. The smell of diesel rubbed into the old cracked leather, the sound of certain gears grinding no matter who was driving, the hard metal dash boards. This one has an ancient cigarette snuffer that was a Smokey the Bear bust. Smokey's hat, slightly cut off was where the cigarette was meant to be stubbed out, and then what? It still rode in a prominent position on the dash thanks to the magnet, even though it was never used.

The truck rounded the corner and Elise smiled deep inside at the sight of the Spotted Drafts in the main field. Her nostrils hungered for the smell of them.

They spent the morning with Joseph, working on the team and handling the new colt. Elise loved to see the big spotted drafts all hitched up and prancing down the aisle ways. Joseph and some of his helpers were getting them ready for the big show in Goshen the end of next week so the wagon team was being well groomed but the pullers got minimal fru-fru. They looked nice but spit and polish wasn't factored in the pulling contest scores, as long as they were clean and tidy. I would be wonderful being here and being able to come down to the horse barns and the work out yards and spend some time getting to know and understand all that goes into raising great farm stock. James, Mark's dad, raised and trained them down here on his family's old farm but he actually used teams up at the truck farm where he and Trudy lived. It was facinating to watch them actually work the ground in all the different aspects of the truck farm. It sure made a difference these days with everyone wanting to go organic and have their food produce old traditional ways.

Alice, Joseph's wife, came out with lunch right at the same time that Mark's phone rang and Anna said that they would be there in a half hour. Everyone took the time to enjoy Alice's lunch and laugh a little more, mostly at Anna. She seemed to always be every body's favorite. She was small but she could powerhouse through the hay field at haying time with the best of them. It just seemed funny to see her pregnant still slim everywhere but her stomach, which as everyone who was honest would say that it was gigantic. But then what did everyone expect, she is married to Giant John.

But it was time to go back up to the big house and meet those two and get started figuring out what to put where and what rooms they were going to live in. The truck ride back seemed less bumpy and much quicker. But why was there a professional moving van parked next to theirs? Elise could hardly wait till Joseph pulled up and shut the truck off.

"What's this all about?" Mark asked as he stepped out and grabbed John's hand. Elise flew feet first across the seat and landed on the running board when she heard John tell him that Scott had sent it with them.

"Dad?" she asked, "What did he need to send over here?"

"Why don't you come and see, the movers need to unload and get the truck back to Bloomington."

Anna was standing at the back door grinning from ear to ear. "I think your going to like it, I hope your not upset that it is here before you're really ready with a room for it."

"What are you…" Elise stopped talking when the doors were opened and she could see her piano inside. Her beautiful piano, how she longed to touch the keys. No other piano felt like this one and now she has it all to herself again. She had been so sad to find out that it really wouldn't work at their New York apartment, getting it upstairs alone would have cost a fortune, and none of them were particularly rich. So when they moved there she had to make do with a small practice piano in their apartment and the piano at the studio. But nothing compared to working things out on her good friend.

"Are you going to stand there staring at it or let us move it," An impatient mover barked.

Elise was glad to let the men take over and tell the movers what to do and where to put it. She over heard Mark say that it would probably be best in the big room on the other side of the kitchen. The room they had stayed in last night. That would be perfect, the sun was so beautiful in there this morning but the room was deep enough that the piano cold be out of constant direct sun.

Elise left the men and the movers to there work and grabbed Anna's arm, "Tell me what you know of this place. I feel good about being here."