A Bend in the Road Chapter Eight

 Chapter Eight

Yours, David

    Katherine walked slowly along the street, not paying attention to anything around her, which was unusual for Katherine. The first few days of school had been rather unexpectedly delightful and she couldn't believe that she felt that way. But it was true. The students had hardly recognized her, the first day back, but by now had warmed to her in a way she never thought any children ever would. It was a wonderful and new experience to her… to have children actually like her. But now all thoughts of her students had fled. She had stopped by the post office on her way back from school and, on discovering a letter from David, had promptly forgotten absolutely everything else. She was reading it now, oblivious to the curious looks she got as she was hardly even looking where she was going.

Dear Katherine (with a K),

    I was glad to get your letter. It's been a long time since I've had any letter that was actually a pleasure to read… it's always business or some such nonsense. I'm certainly glad that you like Windy Poplars but I'm hoping that you don't like it too much. Don't want you to forget Avonlea.

    As for that Presbyterian Church Choir, I don't think you need worry about your singing. I'm not one for contradicting people… much… but I have to in this situation. Can't let you go around thinking you're not a good singer. After hearing you sing in church back here, well, I'm not much of a judge, but I'd say you're first-rate.

    "Tomorrow" sounds like a fascinating place. I was almost there… once… but the sun sank before it even finished rising. Oh well. "Today" is all right… for now. But I suppose "Tomorrow" would be better. I hope you really will make it there.

    Of course I don't think your dreams foolish. There's never any such thing as a foolish dream. After all, what are dreams for but imagining something bigger and better and more beautiful than what we already know? I'm glad you thought to take me into your confidence… now you and I have both shared our dreams. I'm sure you remember mine? I told you that first night we met. Though yours does sound much higher and grander than mine. But it's probably all the better for that. I don't know much about the Taj Mahal and the Pillars of Karnak… Mrs. Lynde would say those are 'dreadful, heathenish places'… but don't take me wrong. I know Mrs. Lynde well and quote her often, but her views don't necessarily represent mine. I simply don't know enough in this case to really voice an opinion and I quote dear old Mrs. Lynde simply for sake of amusement. But I've heard much of the Luxembourg gardens, the Swiss Alps… and the Scottish Highlands. My grandfather came straight to good ole' P.E.I. from those very same highlands and I've always had a sort of hankering to see them myself. Who knows? Maybe I will someday.

    Don't worry about your letters being short. I'm not much of a writer myself. In fact, it's been nigh on ten years since I took up the pen to write anything much more than business accounts… There just wasn't anyone to write to until now. And I'm glad there is. I've counted up that same number of days until Christmas… and I'm glad it's just eighty-three now. That doesn't sound quite as bad as eighty-seven. Don't you worry about Sandy… he's getting along all right. Asked me if I'd heard from you, just the other day, and I told him about your letter. I think you might soon expect a letter from him, actually.

    I suppose the proper thing to add to a letter would be a bit of home news… though there's not much of that, I reckon. My jersey, Daisy… you remember her?... Just had her calf. A little velvety-brown thing with great big brown eyes. Haven't named her yet… I didn't even name Daisy, matter of fact. Someone else... came up with that name. Not much with names myself. The pigs got out yesterday and ran into poor Mrs. Sloane's garden. I went after them just as fast as I could but, unfortunately, they had already wreaked great havoc amongst her cabbages. Boy, she could scold the hind legs off a mule! I don't think that my cabbages quite atoned for the loss of hers... apparently, "men can't grow vegetables". The rooster fell off the barn, Sunday morning, while he was trying to wake up the sun. Made a good Sunday dinner. Unfortunately, just plain chicken… no matter how good it is… doesn't make much of a meal by itself. I've had a little trouble in the baking department. Since my sister married and moved out west, the only baking I really get is when I'm invited over somewhere for dinner. I suppose none of this, though, is news of much account. I can't really think of anything else news-worthy to write about… so I guess I'd better close.

    I can promise you better than a walk, when you do come back. I've a sleigh somewhere in the back of the barn that I need to dig out and fix up a bit. If we get enough snow… which, of course, we always get more than enough… I'll take you for a ride. And I hope you'll stay long enough for the New Year's Eve skating party. I know it's pretty early, but I figured I'd better ask you now, before anyone else gets the chance. So, will you go with me to the skating party?

    I don't know if gladder is a word or not, I'm certainly not much when it comes to grammar. Nevertheless, I'm gladder than glad that I met you. Don't stop dreaming, Katherine.

Yours,

David (I was going to say 'with a D' but it somehow doesn't have the same ring to it.)