Madison Esshaki

“Come on, Ollie, the sun will set before you get up the hill!” I called to my friend with a laugh, clutching my skirt in my hands and lifting it above my knees so I would not trip over it. I ran up the familiar fields of grass, the golden glow of the sun highlighting everything it touched. The braids in my chestnut hair and the straw hat I wore blew in the wind behind me, the ribbon of my hat dangling at my throat. The flowers that laid in the pockets of my apron flew out one by one as I ran, each being lifted up and carried away into the summer breeze. 

At last, I had reached my destination, tired and out of breath. An old, rickety fence, the white paint chipped and scratched, stood planked into the muddy ground. To a common person in the daytime, it did not look like much more than an abandoned, broken fence. But these battered rails were the perfect seats to the theater of nature, the perfect place to sit and enjoy the beauty of the country.

My name is Wendy Douglass. The year was 1942, my thirteenth year, and nearly three years into the second World War. Life had turned its back on me, it seemed, when this war began. My mother had been killed when our home was destroyed three years prior, and my father was away fighting at war. I had no other living relatives, so my father had placed me in the care of his oldest military friends, whom I had never met. When my father left to fight, I was anxious, hurt, and furious. I would not speak to anyone. I ate only enough to keep me alive, and despite my efforts to stop them, the kind Hickorys never left my side.

I stared back down at my best friend, Oliver Hickory. Ollie, as I called him. He was one year older than me; the oldest of the Hickory children. There were five of them, with one on the way, and the small farmhouse that they lived in was always filled with laughter and chaos. Ollie and I had become friends quickly after his mother had forced me out of seclusion with her kindness, and we had bonded over the fact that both of our fathers were at war. Though my heart still mourned the losses I had endured, and the slight pangs of jealousy when Mrs. Hickory mothered her children were hard to ignore, it had been a year and a half since I had arrived here, and I had grown to love the Hickory family as my own. Dare I say, their little, crowded, chaotic cabin in the middle of nowhere was beginning to feel like home.

 Ollie was taking his time up the hill, slowly taking each step and pretending to enjoy examining the flowers and insects that crossed his path. He was tall and thin, with dark hair that covered his forehead, stopping only above his eyes. His eyes were an emerald green, and they had a kind glow in them. I rolled my own blue eyes and smiled down at him. He loved to tease me. 

“Ha ha,” I sarcastically laughed. “I never knew you had such an interest in grasshoppers!”  I pulled him up to my level, and together, we climbed atop the rickety fence. The sun was just beginning to melt down behind the Blue Ridge Mountains, and the murky pond beneath us glowed bright with the reflection of the pink and orange clouds. 

  Oliver was like my brother. I had never had any siblings, but I’d always thought that sounded wonderful. Now, I knew what it was like, and it was wonderful indeed.

Ollie and I did everything together. During the day, we had many chores to complete; many animals to feed and many barns to clean. On my part, I had many meals to cook and many young children to care for. Because Mr. Hickory was gone at war, and Mrs. Hickory was expecting a child in a few months, Ollie and I had needed to step up and help run the busy household. This life was much different than my old life, where I had been spoiled and pampered by my wealthy parents. I never had experienced the ache in my arms after a day of hauling water, or the knots in my hair after a day in the humid sun. I never had experienced the hair sticking to my neck as I stirred pots in the stuffy, small kitchen, or the dirt stains in my skirt from chasing after a child on a muddy day. I never had experienced this sense of being useful; this sense of being so free.

Nonetheless, there came times each day when I deeply missed the life I had lost. I missed the luxury of sleeping in long past the sunrise, and the dresses I had worn that did not aggravate and dirty my skin. I missed my old home, with many levels and clean rooms. I missed my mother and her gentle energy, always looking out for her small family. But above all, I worried for my father. He was somewhere at war, putting his life at stake every morning when he awoke. I never heard from him, even though he had promised to write. I had greatly hoped that this meant he was just busy with the duties of war, but deep in my mind I had to face a painful reality, and that reality was my darkest fear.

The sun had disappeared almost completely when we began the walk back to the cabin. The stars shone brightly in the sky now, scattered across the night like a splatter of white paint on a black canvas.

When the little cabin came into sight, we were greeted by all of the Hickory children. I ran to the smallest, little Elisa, and scooped her in my arms. She embraced me back and showed me a wilted yellow dandelion. Ollie playfully tackled his brothers, and the oldest daughter, Jenna, stood quietly in the corner, a book in her hand. 

“Mother wants everyone to come inside. She’s received a telegram about Father,” Jenna said, her voice slightly trembling, “She has been waiting for you two and hasn’t opened it yet. ”

I placed Elisa on the ground and glanced at Ollie. Our eyes met, and I saw a fear in his eyes that I had never seen before. It made my stomach churn. A telegram? That could mean anything. We hurried into the kitchen where Mrs. Hickory stood, a yellow envelope in her hand. 

“Hello children,” she placed a hand on Ollie’s shoulder and the other on her large stomach. Her voice was tired.
“Sit down, Mother. Would you like me to read it?” Oliver said gently, leading his mother into the living room and in to her rocking chair. 

“No, dear, I’ll read it.” She smiled weakly and motioned for her children to gather around her. She slowly and shakily tore open the envelope, and her eyes steadily moved across the paper. She grasped the arm of her chair tight and her eyes moved quicker as she read. Her eyes began to fill with tears and she slapped her right hand on her mouth.

“What is it, Mother?” Oliver stood up to comfort her, but his usually strong arms were shaking in fear. “Is Father…”

“Oh, Ollie,” she said with a new surge of energy, kissing her son’s forehead. “He’s perfectly safe! He has broken his left leg, but he is steadily healing. They’ve given him the proper care so far, but his leg is going to need to rest for a while to gain strength, so they are sending him home! They said to expect him within the next few weeks! Oh, it’s a miracle! Praise the Lord!”
And out of nowhere, that little cabin in the woods became more filled with joy and relief than anywhere else I had ever seen. Jenna hugged her mother tight while she held Elisa at her hip, and the boys were cheering and wrestling. Mrs. Hickory was crying and hugging the telegram tight to her chest. The noise was extravagant, and every person in the family was bursting with excitement. 

My heart sank. I wanted greatly to be happy for the Hickorys. I really did. After all, they were my new family, and I owed them so much. But the jealousy and the fear bubbling inside me was too much to handle. I thought of my own father, off fighting, who had not sent me even the shortest letter. Nothing to stop me from worrying. Who knows if he would ever come home. Then the strangest thing occurred inside me; I began to feel angry. Angry at Oliver and at all of his happy family, for celebrating while my father could be lying dead on the battlefield. Angry at my father for worrying me so, and for not sending anything to ease that worry. Angry at these woods, alive with joy tonight, angry at the war for being the root of my worries, and angry at myself for thinking these hurtful thoughts. 

I ran out of that little cabin, lifted off the ground with joy, and into the quiet, still night. I could not carry all the worries on my mind any longer, so they bursted out of my eyes in the form of many, many tears. 

***

I had run all the way through the woods, past the little pond and the fields of grass, up the hill and to our little fence. I climbed up onto the fence that Ollie and I had enjoyed the sunset on many evenings before. I sat there, stared into the growing darkness, and cried all of my worries out. 

Several minutes had passed. Maybe even hours. I sat still, hugging my legs tight and letting my tears drip down them. The silvery moon shone down on the field in front of me and set everything in an eerie tone. Anxiety came and went. Anger came and went. A firefly crossed my path, its subtle glow reflecting in the murky pond. I was growing weary, but I knew I could not go back to that happy home, filled with a happy family. My heart had never felt so empty.

“Wendy…” a sudden, gentle voice from the shadows behind me called my name. Ollie placed his hand on my shoulder, but I turned away. I could not bear to explain all my thoughts to him right now. 

“Ollie, I…I think you should go,” I wiped my red eyes on my sleeve.

“Come on, Wendy. You can’t stay on that fence all night. Let’s go,” he reached for my arm but I pulled back.

“No!” I surprised the both of us with the volume of my yell. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, much quieter this time. “I- I just have a lot on my mind right now. If I go back, I’ll only bring the mood down. You were all so happy, and I really am trying to be excited for you! Your dad sounds wonderful! But, it’s just…”

“You miss your father. I understand,” I glanced back at him through the darkness, but he was blurred from the night and my tears.

He climbed onto the fence beside me.

“Wendy, if you come back, you won’t bring us down. We want you to be with us to celebrate. You are part of our family now,” I stared blankly into the black sky, and I fought back more tears. 

“And we are always here for you. Just because my father is coming home now doesn’t mean my knowledge of that pain and worry will disappear. I know what it’s like to be worried for someone close to you. That’s how we felt when you ran off this evening. My mother and siblings were searching all over for you, but I knew where you’d be. You don’t bring us down, you lift us up! You should have seen Elisa’s face when you ran out. You’ve been such a blessing to us, Wendy. If you wouldn’t have come, who would cook for us? It isn’t healthy for my mother to be in heat like that, and if it were up to me, we’d be eating plain flour and water!” He nudged me and I had to smile. 

“So, what do you say? I am feeling a little hungry,” He climbed off the fence with a smile and offered me his hand. I accepted, and climbed down beside him. 

“There’s the Wendy we all know and love!” He smiled at me and I smiled back.

“Race you back home!” he dashed across the field. I laughed and chased after him. Sure, I was still worried about Father. But I knew I had a friend who would help me through this time as they had all helped me when I had first arrived. And that word, home, made me shiver with joy. 

I did not have to worry about Father for much longer. A few months later, for my birthday in September, he sent me a letter. A long one, handwritten, explaining that he had been overly busy with war duties, but that he thought of me every day. This was the best gift I had ever received. And do you know who had written to my father and suggested that he sent this gift? My best friend, Oliver Hickory.