A Place of Peace by Iris Penn Page A

post.”
    “Seeds are all gone,” said Melinda.  “The rains washed away most of the things I planted, and I don’t have anything left to plant.”
    “Poor dear,” said Joan, putting her sewing aside.  “Frank will let you have some, I’m sure.”
    “Why has there been no message sent to me?” asked Melinda.  “Surely the army or somebody would send me a letter telling me what has happened to my father, wouldn’t they?”
    “Well, these things take time.  With the war going on, things are different now.  People have changed.”
    “The war, the war,” Melinda murmured.  “I’m sick of the war.  Sick of the whole Confederate mess.  They took my father, and they owe me for that.”
    “There’s not much we can do, dear,” Joan said, trying to comfort the girl.  “We can’t change the way things are.  Your father will be home before too long, you’ll see.”
    It was like Melinda was in a different world.  She had a vague notion of things happening out there .  She wasn’t quite sure where out there was.  It was more of a concept, than an actual place.  She would stay on her farm cut off from the rest of the world while things continued happening out there and without her participation or knowledge.  Her father was one of those people out there .   She grew afraid, even with Joan’s gentle words trying to sooth and calm her.
    “I should have gotten a letter from the army at least,” Melinda said under her breath, as if speaking to herself.  “I shouldn’t have had to read about it in the paper.”
    Joan rocked in her chair and mindlessly plucked a stray thread from the pants.  “You should come stay with us until all of this is over,” she said, still rocking.  “At the very least you would have something to eat.”
    Melinda couldn’t tell from Joan’s tone whether it was a sincere offer of help or just made out of pity.  She was not a child.  She could manage on her own.  Melinda almost started to say something harsh to the woman, but stopped before the first words came.  What was happening to her?  Two weeks ago, she would have never even thought such things.  Of course, Joan was offering out of kindness.  She had known her all her life, and practically thought of her as she would her own daughter if she had one.  Still, she couldn’t take her up on the offer.  There was enough food canned and preserved to last at the very least until winter, and then she would be able to put away all the things she would grow over the summer.
    She started to say no, but then more thoughts came.  There were no more seeds, and the rains had wiped out many of the things she planted.  Then there were the crows, and if any corn managed to survive the summer, it might not be enough after it was picked.  She didn’t have the money to buy more. 
    No, she was determined not to be a burden on the Johnson family.  Frank Johnson was a good farmer and had things well planned, but with the war, the unknown factor figured in heavily.  It might all be gone tomorrow.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Johnson,” she heard herself say.  “But I can’t.  I’ll be fine, and I have more than enough food put away.  Don’t worry about me.”
    Joan smiled, but said nothing.  Melinda knew the look Joan was giving her.  It was the knowing look of a mother who had listened to her child and knew she was wrong, but decided to let her experience her mistake for herself.  It would be one of life’s lessons well learned.
    “I’ll be fine,” Melinda repeated, as if trying to convince herself.  “I’ll be just fine.”
    ***
    Joan had ended up giving Melinda some more paper from an old blank journal she used to write recipes in sometimes.  Now, as Melinda sat at her table again, pen in hand, all that came to her was the sight of the blank paper in front of her.  Although she was determined to say all the things she wanted to say, she could not get past the greeting, and the ink dripped from her pen as she