Creek. Tomorrow, I shall move into my cabin. I took the opportunity today to become acquainted with the town that is to be my home. The hotel proprietor’s daughter-in-law, Laura, was gracious enough to be my guide.
Laura Gaffney is about my age and quite personable.
I hope she and I will become good friends. She and her husband, Ian, both work at her father-in-law’s hotel. Laura is in charge of the restaurant and is an excellent cook. The Gaffneys have no children, but I recognized the yearning in Laura’s eyes when she saw a mother with her children on the street. It was a look that touched my heart, for I have known the same yearning. I have wondered if I will ever have children of my own. I wonder still since I remain without a husband.
Shadow Creek is not much larger than Steigerhausen, but it is dissimilar in every other way. It is laid out in a precise square with three streets running east and west and two running north and south. Nearly all of the businesses are on Main Street, with two church buildings on the east end of town and two church buildings on the west end of town. I will be attending the Holy Shepherd Lutheran Church with Jakob and his children and have already met the pastor. His name is Rick Joki. There is also a Catholic church (the priest is Father Patrick, whom I have also met), a Presbyterian church, and a Methodist church.
Everything is new here by comparison with our country. Shadow Creek was founded, I am told, around the time I was born. The valley is bordered by mountains to the west and east, and the land rolls gently and is rather treeless, except along the streams. Higher up on the mountains, however, there are more trees, and I am told the colors of the changing aspen are beautiful in the fall.
Laura’s father-in-law, as I mentioned above, owns the hotel. His name is Tulley Gaffney. He is from Ireland, and I do not believe I have ever met another quite like him. He is tall, even taller than Jakob, and of much greater girth. His hair is bright red, and he has thick, bushy eyebrows of the same startling shade and green eyes the color of the forest meadow where we used to picnic. But it is not only his physical appearance that makes him seem different from others. It is his joyous and quite boisterous nature. There is something contagious about it, I think.
I was introduced to many people today, but I will only share about one more in this letter so that I will have other things to tell you when I write again.
The millinery shop is owned by a widow woman named Nadzia Denys. Her parents and her husband were all from Poland, but she was born in America. Perhaps thirty years of age, Frau Denys is quite formidable. She is sturdy, like the stone wall beyond the Steigerhausen mill, and plain of face. At first when we entered her small shop I thought her unfriendly, for she did not smile. I thought perhaps she did not know how. But then she said to me, “You must be Miss Breit,” and I said, “How did you know?” and she said, “Shadow Creek is a very small town.” At this point, Laura Gaffney laughed, a merry sound that filled the shop from corner to corner. This, I think, was what caused Frau Denys to smile, and when she did, it revealed a wide gap between her two front teeth. I think this is why she tries not to smile.
Frau Denys makes beautiful hats and bonnets, and there was one especially that I would love to have purchased. You know how much I like pretty hats. This one was made of yellow straw trimmed with sky blue feathers and a large rosette of blue-and-white striped fabric. Both of the other women encouraged me to try it on, but I declined, knowing I do not have money to waste on something as frivolous as a new bonnet. But it was lovely, all the same.
Before I close this letter, I must tell you that I believe God brought me to America. I know you have worried about me and have prayed for me. Your prayers have been answered, I think. I have asked God to forgive me and to
Laura Gaffney is about my age and quite personable.
I hope she and I will become good friends. She and her husband, Ian, both work at her father-in-law’s hotel. Laura is in charge of the restaurant and is an excellent cook. The Gaffneys have no children, but I recognized the yearning in Laura’s eyes when she saw a mother with her children on the street. It was a look that touched my heart, for I have known the same yearning. I have wondered if I will ever have children of my own. I wonder still since I remain without a husband.
Shadow Creek is not much larger than Steigerhausen, but it is dissimilar in every other way. It is laid out in a precise square with three streets running east and west and two running north and south. Nearly all of the businesses are on Main Street, with two church buildings on the east end of town and two church buildings on the west end of town. I will be attending the Holy Shepherd Lutheran Church with Jakob and his children and have already met the pastor. His name is Rick Joki. There is also a Catholic church (the priest is Father Patrick, whom I have also met), a Presbyterian church, and a Methodist church.
Everything is new here by comparison with our country. Shadow Creek was founded, I am told, around the time I was born. The valley is bordered by mountains to the west and east, and the land rolls gently and is rather treeless, except along the streams. Higher up on the mountains, however, there are more trees, and I am told the colors of the changing aspen are beautiful in the fall.
Laura’s father-in-law, as I mentioned above, owns the hotel. His name is Tulley Gaffney. He is from Ireland, and I do not believe I have ever met another quite like him. He is tall, even taller than Jakob, and of much greater girth. His hair is bright red, and he has thick, bushy eyebrows of the same startling shade and green eyes the color of the forest meadow where we used to picnic. But it is not only his physical appearance that makes him seem different from others. It is his joyous and quite boisterous nature. There is something contagious about it, I think.
I was introduced to many people today, but I will only share about one more in this letter so that I will have other things to tell you when I write again.
The millinery shop is owned by a widow woman named Nadzia Denys. Her parents and her husband were all from Poland, but she was born in America. Perhaps thirty years of age, Frau Denys is quite formidable. She is sturdy, like the stone wall beyond the Steigerhausen mill, and plain of face. At first when we entered her small shop I thought her unfriendly, for she did not smile. I thought perhaps she did not know how. But then she said to me, “You must be Miss Breit,” and I said, “How did you know?” and she said, “Shadow Creek is a very small town.” At this point, Laura Gaffney laughed, a merry sound that filled the shop from corner to corner. This, I think, was what caused Frau Denys to smile, and when she did, it revealed a wide gap between her two front teeth. I think this is why she tries not to smile.
Frau Denys makes beautiful hats and bonnets, and there was one especially that I would love to have purchased. You know how much I like pretty hats. This one was made of yellow straw trimmed with sky blue feathers and a large rosette of blue-and-white striped fabric. Both of the other women encouraged me to try it on, but I declined, knowing I do not have money to waste on something as frivolous as a new bonnet. But it was lovely, all the same.
Before I close this letter, I must tell you that I believe God brought me to America. I know you have worried about me and have prayed for me. Your prayers have been answered, I think. I have asked God to forgive me and to
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