Read Online I'll Be Seeing You by Suzanne Hayes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Hayes
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flop-sweat, well, I just couldn’t. I let my words go.
And now I’ve offended you, haven’t I?
I treasure Sal’s and Toby’s letters. When they come I breathe a little easier, and let myself think of the future.
But when I receive a letter from you I make a pot of tea, and sit down with it like an old, dear friend. My life would be darker without them, Glory.
Please write back.
Sincerely,
Rita
Sept. 1, 1943
Telegram from Mrs. Anna Moldenhauer to Mrs. Marguerite Vincenzo
MESSAGE FROM GLORY. ALL FELL ILL WITH FLU. IN HOSPITAL. CORRINE AND GLORY RECOVERING WELL. ROBBIE CRITICAL. PRAYERS.
A. MOLDENHAUER
Sept. 2, 1943
Telegram from Mrs. Marguerite Vincenzo to Mrs. Anna Moldenhauer
HEARTBROKEN. SENDING PRAYERS. HOW CAN I HELP?
M. VINCENZO
September 5, 1943
ROCKPORT, MASSACHUSETTS
Dear Rita,
I have no adequate way to begin this letter. I must have started six times. Thank God we’re timber-rich here in America and our paper isn’t rationed. Not yet, anyway.
I suppose I must begin the way my heart wants me to begin. With an apology. I’m so sorry, Rita. I’m so sorry I asked Anna to send you that telegram. It was a selfish thing to do. In my defense, I was so sick. And Anna was kind enough to bring me my mail. When I read your letter I realized I was still too weak to pen a whole one back. But I was frantic to let you know that I was not, in any way, offended by the stern words in your previous correspondence. As a matter of fact, they were just the words I needed to hear. So my only thought was to send word as fast as I could and explain my tardy response.
It was only when I sent Anna off with my message that I realized what a telegram delivery would do to you. How your heart must have stopped. I can be a selfish, silly twit. I hope you will forgive me. I’m sending this letter off with extra postage for priority mail. I hope it gets to you quicker than the others.
How kind you were with your telegram back to me. And I didn’t have to shoulder the same moment of horror you must have felt, because my Robert was right next to me when it was delivered. We’d only just returned home from the hospital with Corinne and we met the delivery boy on the road. Robert’s gotten an emergency leave. He can stay with us up to thirty days. Can you imagine?
And I’m so sorry about my last letter and all that it held. I can’t even recognize the woman who wrote it. I am almost convinced that my wantonness lured that horrible fever straight to us. I sound like Robert’s mother...but with Robbie still so ill, I can’t help but think it was all my fault, somehow. We were all diagnosed with scarlet fever, Rita. Evidently there was an outbreak in Boston that came here on some unlucky wind. Corrine was the least sick. Anna tells me it is one of the best reasons to nurse our children. They stay healthier that way. I believe her, and knowing I could do something for one of my children helps me stay sane. Robbie’s fever was worse. And then he contracted rheumatic fever. The fact that he’s alive is a blessing...but he’s so pale. I can’t really speak of it any more right now. He’s had to stay at the hospital. I can’t stand the thought of him there without me.
Corrine is almost completely recovered and we’ve been assured by the doctors that with her, at least, there will be no lasting damage. I’m still weak, but each day I grow stronger. It’s better now that we’ve been at home. This house is connected to my soul, I swear it. It’s breathed new life into me.
Right now I’m sitting on my side porch, Rita. Robert has tucked me (using too many blankets) into a wide wicker love seat and I’m watching him in the garden with the baby. She’s bundled up, too, but he’s carrying her like he’s done it all along. He has an easy way with her already. I’m watching them through a curtain of grape leaves trimmed into a circle. A natural window onto the world. Their leaves are so
And now I’ve offended you, haven’t I?
I treasure Sal’s and Toby’s letters. When they come I breathe a little easier, and let myself think of the future.
But when I receive a letter from you I make a pot of tea, and sit down with it like an old, dear friend. My life would be darker without them, Glory.
Please write back.
Sincerely,
Rita
Sept. 1, 1943
Telegram from Mrs. Anna Moldenhauer to Mrs. Marguerite Vincenzo
MESSAGE FROM GLORY. ALL FELL ILL WITH FLU. IN HOSPITAL. CORRINE AND GLORY RECOVERING WELL. ROBBIE CRITICAL. PRAYERS.
A. MOLDENHAUER
Sept. 2, 1943
Telegram from Mrs. Marguerite Vincenzo to Mrs. Anna Moldenhauer
HEARTBROKEN. SENDING PRAYERS. HOW CAN I HELP?
M. VINCENZO
September 5, 1943
ROCKPORT, MASSACHUSETTS
Dear Rita,
I have no adequate way to begin this letter. I must have started six times. Thank God we’re timber-rich here in America and our paper isn’t rationed. Not yet, anyway.
I suppose I must begin the way my heart wants me to begin. With an apology. I’m so sorry, Rita. I’m so sorry I asked Anna to send you that telegram. It was a selfish thing to do. In my defense, I was so sick. And Anna was kind enough to bring me my mail. When I read your letter I realized I was still too weak to pen a whole one back. But I was frantic to let you know that I was not, in any way, offended by the stern words in your previous correspondence. As a matter of fact, they were just the words I needed to hear. So my only thought was to send word as fast as I could and explain my tardy response.
It was only when I sent Anna off with my message that I realized what a telegram delivery would do to you. How your heart must have stopped. I can be a selfish, silly twit. I hope you will forgive me. I’m sending this letter off with extra postage for priority mail. I hope it gets to you quicker than the others.
How kind you were with your telegram back to me. And I didn’t have to shoulder the same moment of horror you must have felt, because my Robert was right next to me when it was delivered. We’d only just returned home from the hospital with Corinne and we met the delivery boy on the road. Robert’s gotten an emergency leave. He can stay with us up to thirty days. Can you imagine?
And I’m so sorry about my last letter and all that it held. I can’t even recognize the woman who wrote it. I am almost convinced that my wantonness lured that horrible fever straight to us. I sound like Robert’s mother...but with Robbie still so ill, I can’t help but think it was all my fault, somehow. We were all diagnosed with scarlet fever, Rita. Evidently there was an outbreak in Boston that came here on some unlucky wind. Corrine was the least sick. Anna tells me it is one of the best reasons to nurse our children. They stay healthier that way. I believe her, and knowing I could do something for one of my children helps me stay sane. Robbie’s fever was worse. And then he contracted rheumatic fever. The fact that he’s alive is a blessing...but he’s so pale. I can’t really speak of it any more right now. He’s had to stay at the hospital. I can’t stand the thought of him there without me.
Corrine is almost completely recovered and we’ve been assured by the doctors that with her, at least, there will be no lasting damage. I’m still weak, but each day I grow stronger. It’s better now that we’ve been at home. This house is connected to my soul, I swear it. It’s breathed new life into me.
Right now I’m sitting on my side porch, Rita. Robert has tucked me (using too many blankets) into a wide wicker love seat and I’m watching him in the garden with the baby. She’s bundled up, too, but he’s carrying her like he’s done it all along. He has an easy way with her already. I’m watching them through a curtain of grape leaves trimmed into a circle. A natural window onto the world. Their leaves are so