There’s nothing left to do for your arrival except wait. Isola has washed, starched, and ironed Elizabeth’s curtains, looked up the chimney for bats, cleaned the windows, made up the beds, and aired all the rooms.
Eli has carved a present for you, Eben has filled your woodshed, and Clovis has scythed your meadow—leaving, he says, the clumps of wildflowers for you to enjoy. Amelia is planning a supper party for you on your first evening.
My only job is to keep Isola alive until you get here. Heights make her giddy, but nevertheless she climbed to the roof of Elizabeth’s cottage to stomp for loose tiles. Fortunately, Kit saw her before she reached the eaves and ran for me to come talk her down.
I wish I could do more for your welcome—I hope it may be soon. I am happy you are coming.
Yours,
Dawsey
Juliet to Dawsey
19th May, 1946
Dear Dawsey,
I’ll be there the day after tomorrow! I am far too cowardly to fly, even with the inducement of gin, so I shall come by the evening mail boat.
Would you give Isola a message for me? Please tell her that I don’t own a hat with a veil, and I can’t carry lilies—they make me sneeze—but I do have a red wool cape and I’ll wear that on the boat.
Dawsey, there isn’t one thing you could do to make me feel more welcome in Guernsey than you already have. I’m having trouble believing that I am going to meet you all at last.
Yours ever,
Juliet
From Mark to Juliet
May 20, 1946
Dear Juliet,
You asked me to give you time, and I have. You asked me not to mention marriage, and I haven’t. But now you tell me that you’re off to bloody Guernsey for—what? A week? A month? Forever? Do you think I’m going to sit back and let you go?
You’re being ridiculous, Juliet. Any half-wit can see that you’re trying to run away, but what nobody can understand is why. We’re right together—you make me happy, you never bore me, you’re interested in the things I’m interested in, and I hope I’m not deluded when I say I think the same is true for you. We belong together. I know you loathe it when I tell you I know what’s best for you, but in this case, I do.
For God’s sake, forget about that miserable island and marry me. I’ll take you there on our honeymoon—if I must.
Love,
Mark
From Juliet to Mark
20th May, 1946
Dear Mark,
You’re probably right, but even so, I’m going to Guernsey tomorrow and
I’m sorry I can’t give you the answer you want. I would like to be able to.
Love,
Juliet
P.S. Thank you for the roses.
From Mark to Juliet
Oh for God’s sake. Do you want me to drive you down to Weymouth?
Mark
From Juliet to Mark
Will you promise not to lecture me?
Juliet
From Mark to Juliet
No lectures. However, all other forms of persuasion will be employed.
Mark
From Juliet to Mark
Can’t scare me. What can you possibly do while driving?
Juliet
