The Long Journey Home

Discovered

Another letter reached Ellisa Townsend. Emma Jenkins hand delivered it that afternoon.

“Elle ... it’s from Dewy.” She used the familiar name that Dewy used to call her when they were teens.

“Oh, my! I don’t know if I can handle any more right now. Every letter speaks of our future: A future I wasn’t sure we would have when he left. And now he wants to resurrect our feelings and courtship. I’m not sure I can, Emma. I’m just not sure.” She turned away to prepare the vegetables for the evening meal, and to subdue her emotions.

“Listen to me, Ellisa. This man loves you. He says so every time you receive a letter. At this point, unless I go elsewhere, I'll never marry. Joseph Carmichael was the closest thing I ever came to a courtship, and he’s dead. You can’t push away what’s right in front of you. Promise me, Ellisa. Promise me you’ll pray about him, think about him, entertain the idea of Dewy coming back to you; because that’s exactly what he’s doing: Coming back to you.”

“You know, it seems everyone wants this but me. Not that I don’t love him. I do!” She turned around, surprising Emma with her tears. Her lips and chin quivered with her feelings. “With my whole being, I love Dewy. But, he left anyway.” She stopped momentarily, burying her face in her hands and sobbed. Before Emma could comfort her, she continued her diatribe. “My love wasn’t strong enough to keep him back then. Who’s to say it will be now? Even while vowing his undying devotion, he’s delayed his homecoming to help some stranger in Mississippi. I have to wonder if he is as anxious to return as his letters suggest. Thank you for bringing the letter, and for being a dear friend.” She returned to her task, saying nothing more.

Emma, unsure what to do or say, she left without another word to Ellisa. When the door shut, Ellisa stopped cutting the vegetables and sat at the small table in the summer kitchen and cried. She wept like a woman who’d learned of her love’s demise instead of his well-being. A few minutes passed before she could control herself. That is when she opened the letter.

My Dearest Elle,

I have been in Mississippi a fortnight now. As you know already, my days are quite busy helping Mr. and Mrs. Monroe on the farm. He has only one leg, and all of his sons died in the War. I agreed to stay on, and they compensate me with pay, room and board, and some of the best cooking I’ve had in years. The couple is very good to me, treating me as if I am their own child. The whole town seems that way. They act as if I’m some sort of hero. I can’t force myself to tell them I may responsible for the deaths of their sons, brothers, fathers, and husbands. I’d probably be stoned to death if they ever found out I wasn’t a Confederate.

My nights are troubling. I have dreams so real, I feel like I’m still in battle. I wake up scared, defensive, and ready to do combat. Those are the bad ones. The good dreams? They’re about you. I miss you so much at times that it hurts to think about what we had. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I dream of coming back to your open arms. Please say you’ll think on it. I have never, for a moment, stopped loving you. You are my reason for coming home.

I shall be leaving in another week or two at most. I have a horse now. I won Bess in the sawing competition at the social gathering a few weeks ago. She will shorten my journey considerably. Look for me. It won’t be long.

All my love now and always,

Andrew “Dewy” Montgomery

Ellisa laughed at the fact that he had to sign his full name instead of just “Dewy” when he signed off. She was glad for the laugh. Crying had her spent. Shaking her head, she stood to finish the meal she’d begun preparing.