Quinn by Danielle Wipping

January 7, 1945

Dear Cam,

I hope this letter finds you in good health.  I wish it could find you in good humor.  Yet with this damn war still raging humor seems to be in short supply.  I know it is around here.  Everyone is worried and wondering when you, dad, and even mom are coming home for good.

Ben asks about you every day.  With a sinking feeling I lie and tell him you’ll be home soon.  He wants to go fishing at the crick again.  Sometimes it gets so hard handling him because he’s more nuisance than help.  I’m getting scared because I’m beginning to resent him for the freedom he enjoys.

I received a letter from mom today telling me that she’s getting closer to finding dad.  One of the nurses she works with thought he came through a few months ago.  While it’s good news it also means that mom won’t be home for awhile.  I think about all the first aid stations that were attacked and I shudder to think.

Thunder foaled last week.  She’s so proud and who can blame her?  Every time I go to feed she’s prancing around the paddock with Sundae.  She’s named after her father, Sundae’s Thunder.  They truly seem happy.  

Please don’t forget to come home, after all you did promise.  Sometimes I wake up terrified that you aren’t coming back.  Without you writing it’s a plausible fear.  Keep in mind that I pray for you and your unit every night (I’m pretty sure Ben does too).  No matter what I’ll be here waiting so please avoid bullets and for God’s sake wear your helmet.

Love,

Quinn Leppek

A few teardrops smeared the ink making me groan.  It was the fifth copy I had written that I had just ruined.  Sighing I stuffed it into the envelope and sealed it before I received the urge to begin a rewrite.  He’d just have to deal with a tear drenched letter.  Not like he’d ever read it anyway, it seemed no matter how many letters I wrote I never received one in return.  Or at least not in a year.

 With that task finished my mind began to wander out the window and through memories.  The first time I saw Cameron Mercer I was thirteen years old.  I had been ousted from my family’s barn by dad because I was making him a nervous wreck.  I had been playing tag with Ben, my younger brother and his friends as a result from my banishment.  I can’t be sure what caused me to look up but I did and there he was.  What happened before or shortly after that was history because after he’d wander his way on to my farm he was our newest hand.  It turned out that Mr. Eisenburg (who owned the general store in Ruth) had pointed him in our direction when he wandered through looking for work.

We became close, not just I more like my whole family.  On days off he’d take Ben fishing because Dad would be too busy with one of the horses or something or other. Over the next couple of years I didn’t realize how important he had become.  It took a national cry for war before I realized that I couldn’t picture the farm without him.

Dad it seemed was one of the first to go and enlist.  He said it was the right thing to do even amidst mine and mom’s objections.  He knew that he was needed at the farm, that I could handle everything.  Quinn, he said, you can handle this business better than your mother.  He told me that he was counting on me to handle things. It didn’t seem right to tell him that I was scared.

Well we watched dad ship out and it seemed my connection with Cam deepened.  I depended on his support and encouragement.  Maybe I was just trying to place him in that father role that had been vacated.  We had an argument a few weeks later over it.

What I had written to Cam was the truth, Sundae did look happy but lately it seemed as though she was getting sick.  I had seen the light sheen of snot on the outside of her nostrils and at the thought of her being ill my muscles tightened.  She couldn’t get sick.  The nearest vet was in Parisville.  While it wasn’t far away, I couldn’t afford the vet anyway.

“Quinn?” Ben’s small voice permeated my thoughts, “can I sleep with you?  I had a nightmare.”

I rubbed my temples.  For just one night I wished I could sleep by myself and not wake up to a baby’s cry or Ben asking me if he could sleep in my room.  Was it wrong I was feeling this way?  I was a seventeen year old girl that was playing mommy to an eight year old and a mommy to a three-year-old.  

“Please Quinn.  This will be my last night I swear.”

“Pull out the cot.” I replied turning toward him.  My dark eyes looked over at the crib, she slept peacefully.  It wasn’t that unusual.  

I laid down a while later listening to their deep even breathing.  It was comforting to know that they were there, that even at their age there would be no leaving.  It gave me something to look forward to, coming home from the fields or working with horses, to see them smile and being children.  

Christina was my pride and joy.  She had come to live with us shortly after Mom had left for the Red Cross.  Her real mother had been my best friend, Lissie and unfortunately she died during childbirth.  Lissie’s mother didn’t want a child born out of wedlock; it went against many of her old-fashioned Catholic teachings.  The truth is she didn’t want a reminder of what her daughter had become.  

In short I adopted her.  I wouldn’t let her be castoff like a used shoe.  

“Mama?” a voice screeched, an echo resonating around my room.

My dark eyes snapped open and I sleepily climbed out of bed, “Christina, what have I told you about screaming?’

“Don’t?”

“Let the rooster do the waking up,” I glanced at Ben before prodding the cot with my foot.  “Time to get up Ben.”

I sat Christina on the floor and he murmured, “Five more minutes  Quinn.  Please?”

“Now Benjamin.  The chickens need fed, eggs collected.  I’ll go out and do the horses and milk the cow but you are in charge of the chickens, remember?  And then it’s off to school.”

“Why can’t I just stay here with you?” he whined climbing out of bed, “everyone is always picking on me.”

“Because you have to.  I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast.” I retorted, ignoring his plea of kids teasing him

I closed the door behind me and could hear Ben grumbling under his breath.  Christina ran ahead of me her chubby legs running as fast as possible.  I loved them, that much was simple but there had to be something done.  I couldn’t live forever just to make them happy.

When mom left Aunt Henrietta offered to take Ben and just let me run the farm.  She told me that it would be too much to handle on my own.  I didn’t believe her, besides she had fourteen of her own kids and one on the way.  I couldn’t burden her with Ben.  It wouldn’t have been fair to anyone.

A thud ran along the floor and a moment later a cry rattled down the hall.  I chuckled, not at the situation just the idea that we went through the same routine again and again.  It didn’t matter what I said because every morning she’d race down the hardwood floors and try to skid to a stop; she never succeeded.  I shuffled down the stairs, not the least bit worried that Christina had injured herself.   She was a tough cookie and usually shook off any injury that came her way.

I heard Ben coming down the steps as I pulled on my coat and boots.  I swear he was so slow but there wasn’t a lot I could demand.  He did well in school, remembered most of his chores and remained a kid.  I wish I would have had a little longer.

Shaking my head I walked into the bitter cold.  The path had been covered by windblown snow and I groaned in frustration.   It had taken me nearly two hours the night before to clear it and in a matter of hours it had been destroyed.  The idea had me laughing to myself on the way out to the barn.  It was just like my family, there one moment and gone the next.

“Good morning Thunder, Sundae,” I called as I stomped my feet off at the barn door before entering.  “Did you guys sleep well?”

Thunder neighed happily but I heard nothing from Sundae.  Carefully I edged closer to the stall, “Sundae?”

After peeking over the side I swung the door open, grabbing the lead rope from the hook by it.  Clipping it to Sundae’s halter I pulled, “Come on sweetheart.”

Her blue eyes cut deep into mine.  They were scared and begging me to help her.  The snot that I had seen only the day before was thicker.  Her breathing was irregular and scared me.  My heart sped up as I pulled on the lead rope again.  “Please Sundae, please stand up.”

I pulled harder and she tried climbing to her feet only to stumble back down.  I left her there, running to the door I yelled out, “Ben!”

He appeared at the porch moments later.  He must have seen my distress because then he ran, his feet kicking up snow as he ran.  He skidded to a stop in front of me, now I knew where Christina had gotten the idea.  He looked at me curiously.

“I need you to dress Christina and take her to Aunt Henny’s before you go to school.  See if Uncle Stan can come down and help me.  Tell them Sundae’s sick and maybe they’ll think of something.”

He nodded and then asked, “What if they don’t?”

“I’ll need to the two of you to stay there.”
A look of annoyance crossed his face, “Of course.”

I felt irritated at his tone.  I was doing this for them and he couldn’t seem to grasp that fact.  “Look I’m doing this for you.”

“No, you’re doing it for dad.  Christina and I are just nuisances that are here.”

I opened my mouth to speak but only stuttered.  How could he say that?  Didn’t he saw how hard this was for me?  I tried making things so much easier for him.  I didn’t give him any hard chores, made sure he did his homework and helped when I could.  Yet, there he was telling me what I had subconsciously thought the night before.

“It’s not like that Ben.” I began a moment later.

He shook his head, “How soon before you leave too Quinn?  I’ll take her and go to school.”

I watched helplessly as he ran back in the direction he came from and I couldn’t form the words to order him back.  Everything was falling apart around me and I had no idea how to handle it.  With a little shake to my head I headed back into the barn.  

Ben and Christina came and said good-bye before they left.  Watching them walk down the road I felt my heart break just a little.  He was mad at me and I couldn’t face it at the moment.  I turned and walked back into my duty.

After what seemed like hours I heard someone’s footsteps on the gravel.  I glanced out the door, blinking at the brightness of the snow that lay outside the door.  I vaguely wondered what the last thing I looked at had been.  

“What’s going on here?”  Uncle Stan’s rough voice asked before he even made it to the doorway.

I looked at him a moment.  There was no way to tell that he and my father were brothers.  Uncle Stan was shorter and a little more round than my father.  Wrinkles were already finding their way onto his face.  Yet, between him and my other relatives, he was the one I trusted the most.  I couldn’t help but crack a smile when he grunted in impatience.

“She won’t get up.  I’ve tried everything, Ben’s mad at me because I snapped at him earlier but he needs to understand that I have a lot of things to deal with,” I babbled.

Uncle Stan held up a hand, “I’m sure he does understand.  Now trade me spots and let me have a look.”

I moved out of his way and watched as he ran his over her chest.  They settled there and the only noise that filled the barn was our breathing and Sundae’s labored breathing.  I worried as I saw the looks fluctuate across his face.

“How long has she been like this?” he asked carefully, as if trying to conceal the worry that broke through just a bit.

“She started showing signs of a cold a few days ago.  I just assumed it would go away, I mean she was just a baby.” My hand flew to cover my mouth. 

His face softened, “She’s dying Quinn.  She probably won’t survive the day let alone the night.”

I swallowed hard.  Why had this hit her so hard?  It wasn’t fair but then again with no one at home and the war raging over oceans what was?  Slowly I nodded, “Thanks Uncle Stan.  Can Ben and Christina stay with you and Aunt Henny?  I’ll come by soon and pick them up.”

“Of course.  Henny’ll be glad to have them,” he stood pausing only for a moment to press a kiss to the top of my head, “Don’t stay in the cold all day.”

“I won’t, promise.”  I forced a smile on my face.  How could I explain to him that was exactly what I planned on doing?

I sat beside Sundae, stroking her neck and singing little songs that came into my head.  She wasn’t even a month old and she was dying.  I rested my head on her neck and sat with her well into the night.  

Tears were dry on my cheeks and I was sleeping when she took her last breath.  I didn’t realize what had happened until a couple hours later when I woke up.  The ground was too hard to bury her so it only left burning her.  It took me quite awhile before I had dragged her far enough from the barn.  

As flames licked at her small body I said a prayer.  I looked up at the darkened sky and prayed harder than I ever had.  For once I was happy my mother insisted on our Catholic upbringing.  Swiping at the tears that found their way down my cheeks again I watched as the fire burn out and with it Sundae.

The next couple of months were miserable.  Ben and I reached an understanding of sorts and I could only hope that we could be the way we were before everything.  I still wrote Cam, praying for an answer but never receiving one.  

“Can we please get some candy?” Ben questioned again as we approached the general store.

It was the seventh time he’d asked and I had told him no each time.  Christina had stayed with Aunt Henny rather than worry about her running around.  I again shook my head, “No, now be a good boy and run ahead.  Tell Mr. Eisenburg what we need.”

He shot off like a bullet.  I felt my lips twist into a wry smile, not everything was bothering me as much as it had before Sundae died.  I realized how short everything could be and I didn’t want to lose Ben over being too hard.  I saw Ben standing outside the store, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“We got a letter Quinn,” he said when I reached him.  

He held the letter out and smile breaking across his face.  I recognized the chicken scratch handwriting.  It was the first letter in a year that I had received.  It didn’t matter that people milled about looking at us; tears ran down my cheeks as I read Cameron’s words.

Dear Quinn,

Sorry I haven’t written in quite awhile.  They wouldn’t let us send out any letters but they kept ours coming.  So every time I received a letter I sat down and wrote one back, so look forward to a big box of letters from me when I come home.  I am.  I’m coming home.  Tell Ben for me.  

This is going to be short as I have to hurry in order to make my ship.  I love you Quinn.  I’ll be home shortly.  I hope this letter finds you in good health as well.  I’m sorry to hear about Sundae but who knows, maybe in the end it was for the better.  Be safe.

Love,

Cam