Edith and the Mysterious Stranger Page 6

  The young man nodded.

  Edith could tell that he was trying to look brave as he blinked back tears forming in his eyes. “So, what’s your name?”

  “Tom.”

  “I have a nephew by that name.”

  “Really?”

  Edith nodded. As she rubbed the ointment on, she asked, “Do you like music?”

  Tom winced. “I…I play the harmonica.”

  “You do? That’s wonderful.”

  “Yeah. My teacher has the superintendent come to our class, and he teaches us how to play. He plays real good, too.”

  Henry nodded. “Actually, I really don’t do much. He’s a talented young man and plays quite well. I volunteered ‘cause I thought it would be a good experience for the children. I bought a bunch of inexpensive harmonicas for them. I believe music improves the mind and helps you learn better.”

  Edith was surprised by this information, so surprised that she didn’t even dare turn her head to face Henry. He played the harmonica, she thought to herself, wondering if he could be the mysterious stranger. No, he couldn’t be.

  Quickly, she took out a strip of cloth and wrapped it around the young boy’s palm and secured it. “I’m done. You were quite brave.”

  Tom smiled at Edith. “Thank you, Ma’am. Can I go out to play now?”

  “I don’t see why not. You’re as good as new.”

  After the young man skipped out the door, Henry smiled appreciatively. “You have a way with children.”

  Edith glanced up, feeling uneasy and apprehensive. He liked her and she knew it. This always happened when she knew that someone liked her. She would back off, not allowing any man to get close to her.

  With a slight smile, she answered, “I love children.”

  “Me, too. That’s why I accepted this position. I moved here from the other side of the mountain, and I love it here.”

  Edith swallowed nervously. “From the other side of the mountain?”

  “Yes. That’s where I grew up.”

  Edith’s head was swimming with all this new information. He played the harmonica and he was from the other side of the mountain. No! He couldn’t be the mysterious stranger. The man in the letter spoke with eloquence.

  Then it dawned on her. If he were, then why would he be telling her all this information? She knew that he wanted to remain anonymous. Surely, Henry could not be the one. This whole mystery was too obvious, too easy to solve. He had told her too much. Or was he telling her all this information to throw her off guard?

  Henry sensed something was wrong as he watched her stuff her medicine and bandages into her bag. “Are you all right, Miss Edith? You’re not very talkative and you look a little pale.”

  Edith shook her head. “No, I’m all right. I’ve just got a few things on my mind.”

  “You know, you and I started off on the wrong foot. I guess I was trying too hard to impress you. I tend to jabber away when I’m nervous and say the wrong things. Can we start again?”

  When Edith looked up, he was smiling and his eyes were hopeful. She smiled back and said, “Don’t worry about it.”

  “May I see you to your buggy, Miss Edith?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  Henry smiled, took her bag in one hand, and took her by the arm. After helping her into the buggy and handing her the bag, he smiled sweetly once again, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “May I call on you some time, Miss Edith?”

  She was about to say she was too busy, but changed her mind and nodded. “Of course, I’d like that.”

  Edith whipped the reins and the horse took off in a trot.

  It was about time she gave men a chance. She had been too judgmental and she wanted to change all that. Edith had noticed the way Henry watched her and had not taken his eyes off her the whole time. He had a gentle voice and loved children as she did. He believed in the importance of music for children. And she realized that he was trying harder to be a real gentleman by escorting her to the buggy. In fact, he seemed more humble since the last time she saw him.

  Perhaps she had misjudged him and had been too hard on him. She nodded to herself. She really should give him another chance, get to know the inner person, his heart. If he called on her, she would not mind.

  She shook her head in confusion. No man had ever lived up to her qualifications. Why that was, she was not sure. Perhaps she was looking for a man that didn’t exist? Perhaps she put the perfect man on too high of a pedestal that no man could ever live up to? If the ideal man didn’t exist, then what? Was she supposed to reevaluate her life and priorities? Was she expecting too much in a man? What was she afraid of?

  Whatever the problem was, she was waiting to fall in love, and it had not happened as of yet. Although, if she was constantly turning men away after their first or second call, maybe she would never fall in love.

  Chapter 10

  Melancholy Music

  It was dusk, and the evening was peaceful and pleasant. Edith bid farewell to Melinda and Gilbert, and headed for the buggy. A couple days had passed since she had given her mother the letter to deliver to the mysterious stranger, and she was wondering what he looked like, who he was, and what he did for a living.

  As she stepped into the buggy, she heard the soft melodic sound of music in the distance. The music was mingled with the sounds of a soft breeze and a Meadow Lark singing in the background. Whatever it was drew her in the direction from whence it came.

  Edith immediately stepped down from the buggy and listened. It was a soft melancholy sound, so beautiful that it took her breath away. The melody was one of longing and full of emotion. She had heard melodies such as this in the Celtic folk songs of long ago.

  As she approached the bunkhouse, she recognized the delicate strumming of a guitar and the faint sound of the harmonica. The music was played in perfect harmony, but yet each instrument carried something special of its own. The music was coming straight from the soul of the person playing. The sweet notes were elusive and sweet, and it held her spellbound.

  She was tempted to enter the bunkhouse, but at the same time, she didn’t want to disturb those who were creating this lovely music. But curiosity overtook her, and she tiptoed into the doorway of the rustic-looking building where a dozen bunk beds were strewn across the open room. She stood as silently as possible, for she did not want to startle anyone by her presence.

  At the far end of the room was a lean handsome young man in his teens, sitting on a bed playing the harmonica. His eyes were closed, and he was gently swaying with the music. The person playing the guitar was sitting on another bed opposite the young man. He was in his thirties with wavy brown hair. He was a rugged-looking fellow with broad shoulders. His eyes seemed to be far away in a dreamland, as he carefully listened to the harmony of the music.

  For a few minutes, she stood in awe and watched, loving every note that drifted toward her. The sound caressed every fiber of her being, and she was completely relaxed. Edith closed her eyes and could imagine singing to this haunting melody. It had touched her heart. When it came to an end, she opened her eyes, and the two men were staring at her.

  Startled that she had been caught eavesdropping, her face flushed a rosy color and she quickly dropped her eyes to the floor.

  David immediately recognized her and stood. “Can I help you, Miss Edith?”

  Edith looked up, feeling embarrassed. She tried her best to blurt out an apology. “I…I’m so sorry.”

  “For what, Miss Edith?”

  “For disturbing you. You see, I heard your music and… Well, I couldn’t help it. I had to see who was playing such lovely music.”

  She looked at the other man who acted amused by her nervousness. He had a grin on his face as if enjoying her flustered look.

  She took a deep breath and continued. “The music was so relaxing. It sounds familiar. Is it a Celtic melody?”

  The man nodded. “Irish. I’ve been teaching it to David.”

/>   “It was lovely. Simply lovely. In fact, I was touched by the way you played it. You know what I mean. From your heart.”

  David turned toward his partner and introduced him. “Miss Edith, this is Joseph. We all call him Joe around here. Joe, this is Miss Edith. She’s a cousin to Mrs. Roberts.”

  Joseph nodded. “Glad to meet you, Miss Edith.”

  He strummed a few chords as he watched her. His eyes swept over her, looking her up and down as if he were appraising her, judging the nature or value of her. This made Edith feel uneasy. Then he turned to his music, ignoring her and looking down at his guitar as he strummed one chord after another, as if searching for the right melody. After a moment, he started playing the sweet melodic notes of “Beautiful Dreamer” by Stephen Foster.

  Just as she turned to leave, he asked, “Where are you from?”

  Edith turned to face him. She was caught by surprise, both by his question and his change of mood. One moment he looked her up and down as if judging the value of her, making her feel uncomfortable, and the next he acted disinterested in her all together and turned to his music.

  Edith stood in the doorway, watching him play one of her favorite songs, wondering if he were more interested in knowing where she was from or more interested in what he was playing.

  Joseph looked up from his strumming and asked, “Well?”

  “I’m from Utah.”

  “Oh.”

  It came out as if he really didn’t care at all, as if he were just making conversation. He continued playing, looking at his fingers as the melody drifted throughout the room. Then he looked up again and their eyes met. His eyes steadily held hers but he remained silent.

  When she turned to leave once again, Joseph abruptly said, “So, Miss Edith, do you know much about music?”

  Edith’s eyes widened. Did she know much about music? She pondered the question for a moment and then turned around and answered, “A little.”

  Joseph nodded. “Can you play the guitar?”

  She slowly shook her head, noticing that he was changing the melody once again.

  “Can you play the harmonica like David?”

  She shook her head again.

  “Hmmm, too bad. So, what can you do?”

  This sort of question amused Edith.

  “What can I do?” Suppressing a smile, she very quietly replied, “I can play the piano a little.”

  She was not lying. She did play the piano. She just left out the fact that she had played since childhood and that her mother had given her many a lesson.

  “That’s nice. Can you sing?”

  Edith suppressed a grin. “A little.”

  “Do you know ‘I Dream of Jeanie’ by Stephen Foster?”

  “Yes. Doesn’t everybody know Stephen Foster?”

  Joseph smiled as he played one of the sweetest melodies that Stephen Foster had ever composed.

  Then he raised his eyebrows and asked, “Do you want to sing it while I play, or would you be too self-conscious or embarrassed? If you’re too shy, you don’t have to.”

  Edith’s eyes widened at such a question. She had performed in many concerts, and here he was asking her if she would be embarrassed.

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said nonchalantly.

  With confidence, she answered, “No, I wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

  “All right. How’s this key?”

  Edith listened carefully. “Could you bring it down a couple steps?”

  “Sure. How’s this?”

  She listened to the melody and nodded. “That’s fine.”

  As Joseph strummed a few notes, he said, “This is just an introduction. Do you know what an introduction is?”

  Edith nodded, trying very hard to suppress a smile.

  “I’ll nod when it’s time for you to come in.”

  He strummed a few more chords and then looked up at her and smiled, giving her a nod. That was her cue. Edith started singing.

  I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair,

  Borne, like a vapor, on the summer air;

  I see her tripping where the bright streams play,

  Happy as the daisies that dance on her way.

  Edith’s voice was rich and beautiful. Her tone was exquisite. And her technique was one of complete emotion as each word was sung. She closed her eyes and sang with fervor, with great warmth and earnest feeling.

  Many were the wild notes her merry voice would pour,

  Many were the blithe birds that warbled them o’er:

  Oh! I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair,

  Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air.

  As she held the last sustained note, she gradually opened her eyes and noticed that both Joseph and David had their eyes transfixed upon her. David’s expression was one of wonderment. But Joseph’s was completely different. His was one of reverence. As their eyes met, he smiled and gave a nod.

  After a few seconds, Joseph realized that he was staring, and instantly broke the spell that he was under. He cleared his throat nonchalantly, as if the song had not affected him one bit.

  Then he smiled and said in a disinterested matter-of-fact tone, “That was nice, Miss Edith.”

  She stared at him and softly asked, “Nice?”

  Joseph nodded. “Yup. That was nice. Well, I’ve got to go. Got a lot to do tomorrow.”

  Edith could not believe her ears as she repeated, “Just nice?”

  “Yup. Real nice.”

  She shook her head in amazement. She had sung with deep feeling, straight from her heart, and for an instant she thought she had touched their souls just as they had done to her with their music. And all he said was, “It was nice.”

  She felt irritated toward his attitude. Immediately she turned on her heels and strode toward her buggy, feeling unappreciated and unwanted. What was she doing singing to an unappreciative audience in the first place? What did this uneducated farmer know about music, anyway? His attitude annoyed her to no end.

  She could not hear David and Joseph’s last comments as she walked away, but it did not matter to her one iota. They could keep their comments to themselves for all she cared.

  Joseph and David walked toward the door and stood at the entrance, watching her walk gracefully toward the buggy in a brisk manner. Her skirt swayed back and forth in agitation as she walked, and that made Joseph grin with amusement. She seemed a bit aggravated with him, he noticed.

  As Joseph watched her intently, he softly said, “David, wasn’t that the most beautiful voice you’ve ever heard in your life?”

  “It sure was, Joe. I was speechless. I couldn’t think of a thing to say.”

  “The words that came to my mind were angelic, lovely, exquisite, beautiful, enchanting. And I’m not just talking about her voice, either.”

  David grinned at Joseph. “She is that, I agree.” Then they turned around and walked back inside the bunkhouse. “By the way, Joe, thanks for lending me your harmonica. I bought my own today so you can have yours back.”

  Chapter 11

  Edith, the Strong Minded

  A rap at the door brought Melinda to her feet. She was sitting on the sofa quietly reading a book. As she opened the door, she smiled when she saw Edith. They embraced one another and then walked over to the sofa arm in arm.

  “How are you feeling today, Melinda?”

  “Just fine. I felt movement for the first time and I was so excited. Not to mention how excited Gilbert was. How have you been lately? It’s been a week now. Have you heard from your mysterious stranger?”

  Edith nodded as they sat down side by side. Her eyes were shining with happiness and Melinda noticed it right away.

  A lovely smile formed on Edith’s lips as she said, “I brought the letter with me to read to you. Are you still interested?”

  “Of course,” she said with enthusiasm.

  “Well, when I asked him about revealing who he was, he had a very good answer.”

&
nbsp; Edith pulled two letters from her bag, opened one, and softly read it to Melinda.

  Dear Edith, the Confused,

  The Lord said to the Prophet Samuel in the Old Testament, “Look not on his countenance or on the height of his stature.” Then he said, “Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.”

  I prefer that you get to know my heart first. I want you to know what kind of person I am inside and I want to know what you’re like inside, too. Isn’t it our souls that must commune first? Let’s not talk of what we do as a living or boast of our exploits. Let’s speak of our beliefs, our desires in life, and our goals. Let’s speak from our hearts and what we love most in life and what makes us happy. Or what saddens us. But let’s not talk of our everyday labors.

  Sincerely,

  Your Friend

  Melinda looked at Edith in amazement. “Oh, my. He’s romantic, isn’t he?”

  Edith’s eyes were soft as she nodded. “So, what are you going to do, then?”

  “Well, I started to worry. What if I fall in love for this man and he doesn’t fall for me? I believe I should show my real self, right up front. And then if he isn’t afraid of me, then he’ll continue writing. I’m not going to hide my true feelings.” She shook her head adamantly. “No, I want him to know how strong I feel about some things.”

  “Have you written back, yet?” asked Melinda curiously.

  Edith nodded. “I wanted you to read my response. It’s quite a strong reply, so don’t get shocked by it, but at the same time I feel good about it.”

  Edith took the second letter and handed it to Melinda. She unfolded it and began reading.

  Dear Friend,

  I understand what you mean and I agree. I won’t ask you about your personal life. But I will ask you of your beliefs and dreams. This idea of sharing our thoughts enchants me and pleases me.

  First, I would like to share just a few of my feelings with you. I want you to know that I am a person with very strong opinions, and I’m not easily swayed unless I realize I’m wrong. I like people who are honest with me. I am a peace-loving person, but I don’t like being dominated or intimidated by others. I tend to judge others at first glance. I know it’s wrong, but I still do. I am stubborn by nature and outspoken, which frustrates my mother to no end. I have a strong belief in God, and that is very important to me. I enjoy sharing my inner most thoughts with those who I’m close to.