It didn’t take long for life to develop a routine for Etta in Iowa, less than a couple of weeks. It seemed, as it always had, as though life went along at a different pace, slower, here than everywhere else in the world. It was as if a dome of innocence encased these communities. Everything was predictable and secure. As always Etta arose at 5:45, dressed in workout clothes for her run, grabbed a water bottle and left the house as quietly as she could. The town was really a ghost town at that time of day. Only the bakery and café, an eggs-and-coffee joint, had any action.
Most mornings she was greeted to bright sunshine and the promise of a warm, hot sunny day of “corn growin’” weather. As she would occasionally run past some fields, that meant the lush scent of dew on the corn fields. There was an aroma, especially out by the graveyard, which was beyond description. The fields smelled of dirt, mold and an indescribable scent of growth. It was as though the yellowish parts of the corn that had grown since the previous day expelled a muskiness saying “Look at me, I’m new” for all the world.
She would run literally all around the town, stopping for her meditational view of the river either in the park behind the convenience store or sitting on a nice bench that had been installed in loving memory of the priests of the parish near the river in the cemetery. Either of those spots gave her a wonderful view of the river, the soft and gentle current that flowed with an occasional jumping carp. Peggy’s cousin lived just downstream and had a wonderful bridge they used to pass from one field to another. She recalled, as a child, sitting with her bare feet dangling from that bridge with a pole in her hands for hours, talking of childish things, giggling and chewing bubble gum. What had they talked about then? What was on the minds of those innocent children?
There were sweet memories of childhood here. Etta would cherish those memories in the mornings, contemplate what she had to do each day and wonder about the future. She’d think of Tom, what he was doing this morning and what his day would bring. Her heart ached to hear from him, to hear his voice, to awake with the warmth of his body next to hers.
Glen Staley had left about a week after getting Gen settled into the house, returning to his job in Minneapolis. He was confident in Etta’s abilities to handle things on her own. Following her runs, Etta would return to the house, help her grandmother to the bathroom and any grooming she needed to see to, then make them both a big breakfast, of either oatmeal or sometimes eggs and toast. She and her grandmother would watch the early morning news out of Mason City, which always included a ten-minute segment on farm futures. Now that was something that was found strictly in the farmland. Those segments bored her to tears, yet she saw the wisdom of such a thing. Peggy’s family of farmers probably listened intently to those segments as they encapsulated everything they needed to know regarding the gambling aspect of their profession: when to sell high and buy low. Still there was something so very, very rural about those segments on the news. They reminded her of the incorruptibility of the area where she was living, the simplicity and regularity of a wholesome society.
On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, she’d help get her grandmother get ready for her physical therapy sessions that ran from 10 to noon at the hospital. During those times, Etta would go next door to the library and work on researching her family tree. If she knew more about Leo and Henrietta, maybe she’d understand where she came from, the kind of love and passion of her family, the family her wonderful grandmother knew in her life. The diaries she’d found in her grandmother’s desk had awoken a type of passion from within.
In a short time, Etta learned that her great-grandmother had come with her parents and her older sister, from Germany when she was a small girl, just a toddler really, just after 1900. They had three more children after they’d settled in Iowa, a boy and two more girls. The boy had died in an influenza breakout in late 1910, so they had been a family with four young girls. Henrietta’s father had developed tuberculosis shortly before World War I had broken out and she and the two younger girls had been sent to live with others. Henrietta had moved in with her older sister, Anna, who had just recently gotten married. The two younger girls had gone to live with an older aunt who knew very little English. After her father’s death, her mother was then put in a sanitarium in Minnesota where she died less than six months later.
At the point where she met her soon-to-be husband, Henrietta had been on the cusp of becoming an orphan. Her life was in turmoil. She had almost no prospects of a future, certainly not a future where she’d get any kind of an education. She was fortunate to find a job as a cook in a well-to-do home and a ride to and from a loving home. What had her life been like? Did she feel as vulnerable as she was? Was she a smart and independent thinking woman? What did she think her life would be like at that time?
Etta would be pondering these thoughts after her time was up researching at the library. She’d take her grandmother home, get her a good dinner and she’d be out cold for the rest of the day. Her therapy was a drain on her heart, mind and soul. Her body longed for relief after pushing it to do more and more with each session, but she was making great strides. She was being encouraged to try walking up the steps into the house without assistance. With a few more weeks of therapy, she aspired to be back in her own bed upstairs. She wanted to get back to her life and be independent. It might take the whole summer, but Gen was determined to get to that point and Etta would be by her side.
While her grandmother slept, Etta would read in Henrietta’s journals. She’d turn from page to page, jumping from time to time to see if there’d be a clue of what had gone on in her life, yet by the time she’d finished the journals in the late 20s, they were just a litany of blasé, every-day life. Perhaps if she started from the beginning again, she’d find more a glimpse of what life had been for Henrietta.
She started with the week following the chivalry where Leo had kissed her.
“May 25, 1916 –
Today was my turn to ride up front with the driver. It was a lovely, sun-shining day with a high temp of 73. While we rode to work, Leo held my hand all the way. He held it on the way home too. I know Nellie saw us, even tho’ she and Maude face the other way on the buckboard, but she didn’t say a thing. I saw Nellie and Tony Brown in the barn kissing last week, so maybe she is just trading secrets with me.”
“July 4, 1916 –
Went with Maude and Nellie to Beaumont for the parade today. There is talk that America will get into the war soon. There’s even talk that all the young men will be consigned to the military. All the big guns and old soldiers in the parade. I worry about the young men: Willy Knipp, and Tony Brown and Leo Wilson. What would I do without Leo giving me a ride every day? I suppose Maude, Nellie, Lula and I could figure things out but it would be so much harder.
The parade was great fun. Leo bought a bag of peanuts and shared them with me as we all walked back to the wagon. I wish he wouldn’t waste his hard-earned money so. The girls just adore their brother. We all laughed and had such a nice time. I’ve never had such good friends. I’m going to be going to Mass with them from now on. I miss going to church. If I walk to their place early on Sundays, they said they’d give me breakfast.”
“July 7, 1916 –
We got a note in the mail that Ma died five days ago. The state has already buried her. They feared someone may get her disease. Anna and I sat and hugged each other, remembering times when we were small and things Ma would do to comfort us. Baby Frank was crying with us. Now we are all we have for each other in the world. I am so glad to have her and Bernard. They are my only family now. We shall all be wearing black for the next month.”
“August 6, 1916 –
Rode with the Wilsons and Fullers to Mass, four Sundays in a row now. I chose to wear my good new dress. It’s a long ride to Garnet, but the church is so beautiful. Maybe someday I’ll get married in that church with all the stained glass. Leo was watching me all the way home from church and helped me get down from the wagon. When he touches me, I feel weak in the legs and my heart leaps in my chest. Maybe something is wrong with me, but it doesn’t bother me any other time.”
“August 19, 1916 –
Nellie and Tony Knipp are courting now. I’m so happy for her, because I know she cares so for him. He is such a fine and dandy man, so jolly. He has a bright future. He’s so good with horseless carriages and seems to know everything mechanical. Leo and I went along as their chaperones to the picture show in Clarient. It was quite a time.
The newsreels were awful, from somewhere in France, a place called Verdun. So many young men died on both sides. The pictures were horrible. It was all we could talk about on the way home. Tony told me he intends to marry Nellie so he can keep from going to war. I hope they do. I don’t want anything to happen to either Tony or Leo, or for that matter any young men I know. It’s just so dreadful and useless. From the way Tony talks, there will be no way America stays out of the war if it drags on another year or two.”
“August 25, 1916 –
It rained hard all day long. There was so much work to do. My feet just ache tonite. Both Maude and Nellie are sick with influenza, so I was borrowed to Mrs Otto, where Helmuth is living now. I rode all the way with Leo and we held hands again. So many hired men are down with the sickness. I cooked up a huge vat of chicken soup, with three chickens’ worth of meat. A pound of carrots and 2 pound of onions, between the soup and poultices. Anna says I shouldn’t worry about bringing home the fever. I’m much too sturdy and strong to get it. And they wouldn’t let me near anyone who had it. Leo, too, is staying away from his sisters and little Ray to make sure he doesn’t get it, sleeping in the barn.
We were stuck in a rut on our way home for a long time tonight. It was nearly dark by the time we got back. We both worked with a spade to dig out of the rut, but it just wouldn’t budge. By the time it was over, we were both covered in mud in the pouring-down rain, completely wet, laughing and he kissed me again. This time it felt different, maybe because we were alone. I don’t know what has come over me. I felt things I’ve never felt before. I hope I haven’t gotten the fever.”
“November 12, 1916
Nellie and Tony were married today! I’m so happy for them. Tony says they will have to start a family right away, because the only way to guarantee to not be consigned is to have a family with children or be a farmer. It doesn’t matter one way or another because Nellie is already in the family way. She just hasn’t told him yet. Won’t he be surprised?
It was a lovely Mass. Leo stood as Tony’s best man. He looked so handsome and proud of his best mate. And Nellie seems so happy. Leo and Nellie love each other so. I will miss her on our rides to work every day. She feels like a sister to me now, just like Anna.”
“December 24, 1916 –
Leo brought me a ring today, my Christmas gift. I can’t believe what he must have spent on this ring. It’s so beautiful. He wants to court, good and proper, with Nellie and Tony as our chaperones, then get married in the springtime. So next week, we’ll all go together to the New Years’ dance in Garnet. I hope I can be a good wife to him. I do care for him, but I’m also scared that he’ll figure I’m not good enuf someday. I’ve got no family or home or money. I’m nothing and he’s such a good man from a good family. He could do much better. I’m not even very pretty compared to some.”
Hmmm, even after becoming an orphan, with so few other prospects for her future, she still worried that maybe she wouldn’t be a good wife. She was worried that she would drag Leo down. Maybe Etta’s concerns about commitment weren’t so crazy after all. This was something she’d need to ponder for a while. In the meantime, she’d wake her grandmother, make some dinner and perhaps push her in her chair through the park for an evening stroll. It was such nice weather in Iowa this time of year. She had a lot of thinking to do.