I don’t know how to mail this to you. I don’t know where you are for sure. Charles thought you might be west in Bismarck and so I’m heading that way. This morning, before the sun was up, before Mor had brewed coffee for Far, I was out the door. I’d been leaving early to milk your pa’s cows so my folks didn’t think anything of me not being there when the hotcakes were steaming.
I walked over to highway 10, my back to a beautiful sunrise, and stuck out my thumb to every truck and semi that passed. There was a flattened blue ball in the ditch reminding me of when you and I used to play four-square at school during recess.
And that’s when the sadness came, Becks. My heart felt like the devil was squeezing it with wiry hands. I say the devil because God was holding the rest of me. But the pain is from the devil.
I’m not sure why I’m coming to find you. I’m sure I can’t break you out of that camp you’ve been confined to. But something’s urging me to search for you and your family. I’m trusting God to say the right words when I get there.
If I find you.
I’m scared, Becky. What if I find your parents and sister, but not you? What if you’ve been hurt? If someone hurt you, Becky, first my heart would break and then I’d be so angry, I’d find the brottsling who did it and bring him to his knees.
But my feelings scare me, too. I’ve never hurt anyone before. But when I think about anyone hurting you, an angry fire burns in my gut, I feel my hands turn into fighting fists.
Becky, I’m starting to think I love you. What if you don’t love me back?
And that’s when the sadness came