Read Online Sticks & Stones (A Hollis Morgan Mystery) by R. Franklin James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: R. Franklin James
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hurriedly:
Dear Maggie,
I was able to get you an invitation to Jenny’s party, but please do not bring Charles the BORE with you. Don’t you know any young people our age?
Rosemary
The note wasn’t dated, but the letter was written in 1943:
Dear Margaret,
I can’t tell you how much I treasure seeing you these past months. You were very kind to me and it helped me to forget for a while the loss of my wife. I never thought I could be happy again, but you have proved me wrong. Last night awakened in me a man I thought I had sent away.
My enlistment papers have finally been approved . Perhaps the Army has lowered its standards. I don’t know if I will come back from this damnable war, and I won’t ask you to wait for me. But if I should return, I promise you that I will do everything I can to make you mine.
I’ve told Eric to keep an eye out for you. You’re not as independent as you think you are. Go to my brother if you need any help. He is upset that his asthma is keeping him out of serving, but I’m glad he’s out of harm’s way, and even gladder he will be there for you.
I love you, my darling. There, I’ve said it. I only wish I could see your face.
Embracing You,
Charles
The next letter was dated, 194 4, almost a year later.
Dear Margaret,
At first I was distraught that you had returned to Chicago. But then I could understand that Rowan was not a good place for an ambitious young woman. I’m sorry Eric wasn’t much help. He hasn’t written me, or at least I haven’t received any letters. Yours only caught up to me two days ago. I can’t tell you how much they cheered me.
I’m tired. We are told the war in Europe is going in our favor, but all we see here is rain, mud and mosquitoes. The one thing that keeps us all going is the fact that the other side is worse off than we are.
I can’t write more. I want to make the mail pouch. Please wait for me. I need to know you that you are in my future.
Always,
Charles
The paper was gr ayish-yellow, and Hollis thought she could smell the dankness of the battlefield. Checking the time on her computer, she remembered that she was meeting Mark at Fields of Giving headquarters and didn’t want to be late. She opened the next envelope and pulled out the letter.
From its folds, a yellowed newspaper clipping with the year 1945 scrawled in the corner fell in her lap.
Maggie,
I am really sorry to tell you this, but Charles returned from the war yesterday. They brought him in an ambulance, and you know for Rowan that was a very big deal. Charles is a hero, Maggie. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for saving his squad from a grenade. Unfortunately, it cost him his leg and an arm. He wanted me to tell you. He says that he would understand if you didn’t want to be saddled with an “old cripple.” Those are his words, not mine.
He wants to see you. His spirit s are pretty low. When will you be coming to Rowan?
Your friend,
Rosemary
She picked up the clipping:
Eric Ferris / Margaret Hitchcock
The Chicago Review
Chicago, Illinois
Saturday, June 5, 194 5
Chicago—Mrs. Margaret Hitchcock, of Rowan, Illinois was wedded here to Mr. Eric Ferris of Rowan, Illinois, on Saturday afternoon by Reverend C.H. McCoy at the Second Presbyterian Church.
Hollis leaned back in her chair. Margaret had no qualms about seeing two brothers and marrying the one without disabilities. She didn’t want to judge, but she wasn’t sure she liked Margaret. The more baffling question was, why did Margaret keep the letters? The condition of the envelopes seemed to indicate she had re-read them at least once.
One thing Hollis was sure of: she was done reading letters today.
CHAPTER EIGHT
H ollis and Mark entered through double French doors into a broad foyer that fronted the lobby of the Fields of Giving, Inc. headquarters. Unlike the Transformation offices, which were cool and sterile, Dorian Fields’ place of business
Dear Maggie,
I was able to get you an invitation to Jenny’s party, but please do not bring Charles the BORE with you. Don’t you know any young people our age?
Rosemary
The note wasn’t dated, but the letter was written in 1943:
Dear Margaret,
I can’t tell you how much I treasure seeing you these past months. You were very kind to me and it helped me to forget for a while the loss of my wife. I never thought I could be happy again, but you have proved me wrong. Last night awakened in me a man I thought I had sent away.
My enlistment papers have finally been approved . Perhaps the Army has lowered its standards. I don’t know if I will come back from this damnable war, and I won’t ask you to wait for me. But if I should return, I promise you that I will do everything I can to make you mine.
I’ve told Eric to keep an eye out for you. You’re not as independent as you think you are. Go to my brother if you need any help. He is upset that his asthma is keeping him out of serving, but I’m glad he’s out of harm’s way, and even gladder he will be there for you.
I love you, my darling. There, I’ve said it. I only wish I could see your face.
Embracing You,
Charles
The next letter was dated, 194 4, almost a year later.
Dear Margaret,
At first I was distraught that you had returned to Chicago. But then I could understand that Rowan was not a good place for an ambitious young woman. I’m sorry Eric wasn’t much help. He hasn’t written me, or at least I haven’t received any letters. Yours only caught up to me two days ago. I can’t tell you how much they cheered me.
I’m tired. We are told the war in Europe is going in our favor, but all we see here is rain, mud and mosquitoes. The one thing that keeps us all going is the fact that the other side is worse off than we are.
I can’t write more. I want to make the mail pouch. Please wait for me. I need to know you that you are in my future.
Always,
Charles
The paper was gr ayish-yellow, and Hollis thought she could smell the dankness of the battlefield. Checking the time on her computer, she remembered that she was meeting Mark at Fields of Giving headquarters and didn’t want to be late. She opened the next envelope and pulled out the letter.
From its folds, a yellowed newspaper clipping with the year 1945 scrawled in the corner fell in her lap.
Maggie,
I am really sorry to tell you this, but Charles returned from the war yesterday. They brought him in an ambulance, and you know for Rowan that was a very big deal. Charles is a hero, Maggie. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for saving his squad from a grenade. Unfortunately, it cost him his leg and an arm. He wanted me to tell you. He says that he would understand if you didn’t want to be saddled with an “old cripple.” Those are his words, not mine.
He wants to see you. His spirit s are pretty low. When will you be coming to Rowan?
Your friend,
Rosemary
She picked up the clipping:
Eric Ferris / Margaret Hitchcock
The Chicago Review
Chicago, Illinois
Saturday, June 5, 194 5
Chicago—Mrs. Margaret Hitchcock, of Rowan, Illinois was wedded here to Mr. Eric Ferris of Rowan, Illinois, on Saturday afternoon by Reverend C.H. McCoy at the Second Presbyterian Church.
Hollis leaned back in her chair. Margaret had no qualms about seeing two brothers and marrying the one without disabilities. She didn’t want to judge, but she wasn’t sure she liked Margaret. The more baffling question was, why did Margaret keep the letters? The condition of the envelopes seemed to indicate she had re-read them at least once.
One thing Hollis was sure of: she was done reading letters today.
CHAPTER EIGHT
H ollis and Mark entered through double French doors into a broad foyer that fronted the lobby of the Fields of Giving, Inc. headquarters. Unlike the Transformation offices, which were cool and sterile, Dorian Fields’ place of business
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