The Hope of Hattie Phelan: Volume I

40

Waiting

I closed my eyes as I struggled to breathe. After the cold I'd had, my breathing problems had emerged again and work was hard. Not to mention there was more of it since Wally was no longer helping on the farm. His train left later today.

Coughing a bit to clear my chest, I struck harder at the ground with the hoe to get up the old tomato plants. The summer garden season was over. The chaotic twists of dried tomato vines created a forest of tangled messes. My heart felt like that–tight–but I knew it wasn't because of my previous breathing issues.

I didn't want Wally to leave. I prayed and prayed to God to make him change his mind, but to no avail. In a few mere hours, Wally would be heading towards Chicago. It seemed like Chicago stole everything from me. My mother, brother, father, health, childhood—and now my friend.

God, I know You know best, I thought. But why must it be this way? I always have to lose something or someone.

"Hattie, are you alright?" my aunt asked me as she tossed another gnarl of tomato vines out of the garden and into the ever-growing pile of dead plants.

"I don't want him to go," I said, as tears threatened to spill. The feeling of never seeing someone or something again squeezed at my heart. It felt like I was grieving the grief to come.

"I know, Hattie," Aunt Margarette said, sadness etched into her eyes. "We will all miss him."

"I just don't think it is smart for him to go out when he obviously is bitter against God."

"What makes you say that?" Aunt Margarette asked me, taking off her gloves to set them on a small stool she had carried out.

"We've talked, Aunt Margarette," I said, leaning on the hoe. "He even admitted he is going through stuff. He needs good people around him. Good people like you and his family. Like Essie and Nancy—and even Richie."

"Sometimes it takes someone reaching the end of their own rope to realize it isn't long enough," Aunt Margarette said, walking over to me, hand outreached for the hoe. I handed it to her as I followed her to the shed. She leaned the hoe against it before sitting on the ground, patting a spot next to her.

"But I've been praying," I said, tears slipping through. "Praying for David worked for me, but I have been praying for Wally to stay and it hasn't worked. And I know that the doubt and bitterness is what got me to turn from God the first time, and I can see Wally doing the same, and as I've been praying for him to not do that, I feel the bitterness and doubt seeping back."

"You know when I prayed to God to save my first husband?" Aunt Margarette asked. I nodded, recalling the conversation. "While I was angry at God for not doing what I asked, He was waiting for me to lean on Him. Whether you are angry at God or not, you need to trust Him. God is always in control and He has every victory. We just have to see it."

"Yes," I said, nodding as I wiped the tears away. "You're right."

"But keep praying for him," Aunt Margarette said, standing up as she dusted her dress off. "Prayers are like seeds. Keep sowing them, and the ones that fall in the right soil will take root."

-=+=-

The train station in Cedar Falls buzzed with the energy of a river. People flowed in and out of the train, weaving between each other like an intricate dance. I stood there, watching as Uncle Gillan helped us out of the wagon. We were all surprising Wally to see him off.

As my feet touched the dusty road, memories flooded back about the last time I was here. It was actually where I met Wally.

I looked for him through the crowd, easily spotting his red hair, which stood above the others. He was handing his luggage to the people loading the train. I walked over to him, watching as he was leaning inside the train car to put his luggage in.

"Do you need a hand, sir?" I asked teasingly. In his surprise, he hit his head on the door to the train car before turning to me, hand on his newly-injured head.

"You came," he said breathlessly. I could see different emotions dancing behind his brown eyes, but he just smiled at me as he rubbed his head.

"And you hit your head again," I said, laughing.

"Yes, it seems to be becoming a habit around you," Wally said, smiling as he jumped up onto the train car to put another luggage in. I stepped back as Miss Rebecka, David, and my family approached.

"Wally, you forgot your journal," Miss Rebecka said, lifting his journal up to him.

"I don't need it anymore," Wally said, glancing over at me. I looked down in embarrassment as I recalled our last meeting.

"Oh," was all his mother said before she tucked it beneath her arm. "Come. Give me a hug."

"Of course, Mama," Wally said, jumping down from the train car to embrace his mother.

"Stay safe, Wally," Mrs. Rickman said, tears streaming now. "Write me often, all right?"

"I will," Wally said before kneeling to David's height to hug him. "Goodbye, David."

"Bye," David cooed into Wally's hair. I was sure little David didn't fully comprehend what was going on. My heart went out to him as I realized that within a couple of months he had lost his dad, all of his brothers, and soon he would lose the house he grew up in. I wondered what was going through his two-year-old mind.

Soon, Wally picked up the last luggage, which he would take onto the train with him, shaking hands with everyone else who came to see him off. Lastly, he got to me. As he shook my hand firmly, he looked into my eyes softly.

"Before I forget," I said, voice cracking as I dug through the pocket of my coat. I pulled out a piece of paper with Da's address on it. "Could you, if you have time, check on Da for me? His name is Seamus Phelan. I know it's a lot to ask but—"

"Yes," Wally said, nodding as he took the paper from my hands. "As long as I can write you. Can I write you?"

I paused at the strange request before nodding.

"Yes," I responded, taking a step back as the conductor called for boarding. "Stay safe, Wally."

"I will, Hatts."

I didn't correct him as he quickly turned and boarded the train. I felt my face contort as I tried not to cry. Why was I about to cry? He said he would write me. I still had a connection to him, but I dreaded not seeing him anymore. I couldn't tease the boy anymore. I would miss him and his adamant self.

I felt an arm wrap around me as the train started to chug off with a whistle of finality. I looked up to see Aunt Margarette at my side, rubbing my shoulder soothingly. I was glad she was here. I was glad I was here and not in Chicago.

I watched as Wally peeked his head out of the window, his red hair swaying from the speed of the train. He waved at us until we couldn't see him anymore. I stood there, watching the train until it blurred past us. And just like that he was gone.

the end.