I am so pleased to hear the news that you and my sister will be wed at last. I know now you have come to understand that you and I were never meant to be together. Sarah is the soul mate I never could have been.
You should know that I don’t blame you for what happened, but I do wonder, often, if you realize I had no choice but to leave so that Sarah could be spared the heartache of knowing the man she loved was in love with someone else—her own sister, no less—and so that you might forget about me and turn to her instead. Making this whole situation even more painful is the fact that she can never know the truth of my leaving, lest it break her heart twice over.
Hearing now that the two of you are to be wed, I am finally at peace about my decision to go. If it spared my beloved sister such heartache, and it led you to love her at last and to make a life with her as your wife, then it has been worth all of the sacrifice in the end.
That is why I am writing now, to say that I forgive you and that I am so happy to hear the news. May your life together be blessed!
I am not even sure if I will be able to send you this letter. I do not have an address for you where it would be assured to escape the notice of others. I shall end it here and try to figure out how to get it to you. If you are reading these words, it means that I succeeded.
Please know that I wish the two of you all the best and I hope you find love as deep and true and everlasting as I have with Duke.
All the best,
Sadie
I sat back, realizing that I held in my hand the final answer I sought.
My mother left Lancaster County out of love for her sister. But because of the circumstances, she could never tell that to another living soul.
I reached for the final envelope, expecting it to be dated around the same time as the other. Instead, what I saw in the date line made me gasp aloud. It hadn’t been written then. It had been written eight years later.
On the day before she died.
It, too, was a letter, but to Sarah this time. Far less formal than the one she’d written years before to Jonah, this seemed to be an olive branch of sorts, a reaching out from sister to sister. I held it up and began to read.
My dear sister Sarah,
I don’t know how many times I have tried to write this letter to you. And here I am trying again. I only have a few minutes before Tyler gets home from kindergarten, so I’ll make it quick.
This time of year, my heart always grows so heavy as I think of you celebrating your birthday without me there at your side. It has been eight and a half years since I left, and every year I have thought of you on this day and missed you more than words can say.
We are back in the States now, as Mamm may have told you, and I am eager to finally, finally come home for a visit. I spoke to Mamm on the shop phone just a few days ago about coming to visit. Her heart was still as hardened to me as ever, but I plan to persist. If I do make it home, perhaps you will bring yourself to speak to me this time? That is my most fervent prayer!
You should know that I believe God gifted me Duke in a way I don’t think I could explain to anyone, least of all Mamm and Daed. I am aware of how very much I have grieved them, but I will honor my commitment to my marriage vows. And though I miss Lancaster County with every breath in my body, I know I cannot return, at least not for more than a visit. I will be forever torn, but it helps to know that you are happy, as Mamm said. On the phone, she spoke of your sweet little ones, your beautiful girls. And I am so grateful to God that Jonah has found his soul mate in you.
I know you have forgiven me for leaving because that is your way, as it is mine. All I can say is that I had my reasons, and I am at peace with them. Regardless, you still are and will always be my best friend. Even as time and distance separate us, I hope
The letter ended there, midsentence. I could almost picture it, the sight of my mother scribbling away until I came home from school, then being interrupted before she was done. She must have tucked the letter away and planned to finish writing it the next day.
But the next day she died. She died with the key in her hand.
I folded the letter and placed it back inside the envelope, knowing without question I would give it to my aunt Sarah. It wasn’t quite complete, but it said enough. It said what my mother had longed to say for years. That she loved her sister. That she had held on to hope. That she thought of Sarah as her best friend to the end.