Chapter 6

Michaela could barely contain her excitement when her father gave her the letter from Sully. She had been moping around the house and garden, unable to focus on anything in particular. Even the diagrams in her father's medical texts held little interest for her lately. She had only had Sully in her life for a week before he moved, but it had changed everything. Nothing held the same interest it had before, now that she couldn't discover or share it with Sully.

Envelope in hand, she ran out to the garden, past the old iron bench to sit at the base of the willow's broad trunk. There was a niche in it that curved just right to support her little back. She knew her mother would be furious to find her sitting here in the mulch, but she didn't care at the moment. This was her special spot. It was peaceful here, and the willow provided wonderful reprieve from the summer heat.

Settling herself and quickly, but neatly, opening the envelope, sheremoved the paper inside. A pressed bluish purple flower fell out, and she marveled at its pure color, almost as if it had been dyed indigo. It smelled fresh still. Carefully she placed it beside her on the ground, planning already to keep it between the pages of her treasured volume of Frankenstein, given to her by her father for her birthday. Returning to the letter, she read it eagerly, trying to picture in her mind the things he described on paper. She felt happy and sad and lonely, all at once. Glancing around the garden, the bright greens, reds, and pinks of the flowers blurred with tears. She didn't know how to reconcile her joy over Sully's happiness with her sadness that he'd moved away. Sniffing, she rose from her garden haven to sit at her desk in her room. She needed to write him immediately.

July 5, 1841

Dear Byron,

You are my best friend too! I am so glad we met. Thank you for the beautiful Virginia Spiderwort. I will keep it always. I am glad you are happy but I wish the Nordheims lived in Boston, or we lived in New York. Father reads poetry sometimes, but it usually doesn't make sense to me. I'm glad you like it though. Have you ever read Frankenstein? It's my favorite because it is about a doctor who created life out of death. I'm glad you are feeling better about your mother. I don't want you to be sad. Father says when we lose a loved one they live on in our hearts. Maybe that will make you feel closer to her. Yesterday was Independence Day and Father took me and Marjorie to watch the fireworks over the Bay. Marjorie thought it was boring but we thought it was beautiful. Father bought us roasted corn from a street vendor! It was so fun. Summer has been boring. I miss school and learning new things. Has Dr. Nordheim mentioned if you will visit soon? I miss you. Father says he is too busy to go to New York right now. A lot of people are sick because of the heat. I hope we can see each other again soon.

Your friend,

Mike

Their letters continued in much the same manner between Boston and New York through the stifling heat of summer, the bright foliage and cooling rain of fall, and into the frozen cold of winter. For each, anticipation of the next letter propelled them forward, and kept their spirits high. Each letter was a thrill, and much excitement and longing filled each moment they spent writing to one another, sharing their thoughts and experiences. And as time passed, their friendship grew. Children their age rarely exchanged letters in this manner, and they cherished the privilege with enthusiasm and reverence.

Soon Christmas was near, and drifts of snow softened the edges and angles of the New England architecture, sparkling like crystal and silver in the winter sun. Twinkling candles glowed from every window in the evenings, and garlands and wreaths adorned doors and eaves, transforming Beacon Hill into a warm, magical place for a spritely Michaela. Each evening she was allowed to light the candle in her own bedroom window, and tear a paper link from the chain she'd hung above her bed in countdown for Christmas day. Josef permitted Michaela to send Sully a Christmas gift of Audubon's Birds of America, one she picked out herself because he was so enthusiastic about everything Dr. Nordheim taught him about the outdoors, along with a new, blank journal to record his observations and reflections. On their way to the hospital one day early in December, Josef escorted his little girl to the post office so that she might post the package to New York herself. The remainder of their trip to the hospital that morning was dominated by Michaela's questions about the inner workings of the postal service, her curiosity flaring with each new experience.

Wholly unaware of Michaela's gift to him, Sully accompanied Josie into the city one day to find a gift for Michaela. The city was overwhelming to him now, several months away from the constant and oppressive hustle and bustle making him unused to the intensity of city life. This part of the city was much nicer than where he was from, as the sparkling shops and streetlights, garlands of cedar and fir, and rustling silks and velvets of ladies' dresses constructed a whole new experience for him, somehow more overwhelming than his previous one because of its stark unfamiliarity. He followed Josie around the streets obediently, his mouth gaping open at the new sights, sounds, and smells. Josie suggested several pretty little things for Michaela: soaps, or silken ribbons, or combs, or little fragrant sachets, but Sully wasn't interested in those. Michaela was pretty, but she didn't find as much pleasure in those things as most girls might. No, he was determined to find something that really fit her, something she would love. He wanted to be sure her eyes would light up just as he remembered them when she was particularly excited about something, evidence that it truly pleased her.

Finally, they entered a book store, where he was overwhelmed with choices. He wished he could get them all for her, knowing she would be delighted with the fount of knowledge contained in all these volumes. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine her response if he gave her a whole library for Christmas – how she would pull a hundred books off the shelves and pile them around her on the floor so you could only see the top of her head, bent over three books at once, never quite able to focus on one for very long because they were all so fascinating.

Instead, Josie helped him select a beautifully illustrated copy of The Swiss Family Robinson. He just knew she would want to be a Robinson herself, totally immersed in the adventure of it. The shopkeeper gave him a special bookplate to glue to the inside cover, on which he could write her name, a short note, and his own name. Smiling indulgently at the boy, the shopkeeper then wrapped it beautifully in fine red paper and green silk ribbon, which thrilled Sully all the more. He only wished he could see her open it! It was again carefully wrapped to be posted to Boston, along with Sully's Christmas letter to Michaela with an additional surprise.

Their shopping done, Josie took little Sully in to be fitted for his Christmas suit, complete with blue velvet jacket and new black shoes with bright silver buckles. Sully thought it was ridiculous, but Josie insisted, saying he would need a good dress suit for their traditional Christmas festivities.

On Christmas day, an exuberant Michaela sprang from her bed as soon as dawn brightened the snowy landscape below her window. Rushing in robe and slippers to her parents' room, she flung open the doors and ran to her father's side of the bed. It was the only day of the year she was permitted to enter her parents' room uninvited, and she seized the opportunity with gusto, jumping on his chest and heralding the happy holiday with hugs and kisses.

A little while later she sat on her knees before a warm fire, several opened boxes surrounding her, her treasured volume from Sully clutched to her chest, trying to decide just which words to use to thank him in her next letter. It was perfect, and she couldn't wait to read it. After breakfast she spent the day, book in hand, sitting before the fire next to the Christmas tree, entirely immersed in the East Indies.

Even better than the book, though, was the letter accompanying it: an invitation to spend the summer in New York with the Nordheims. Elizabeth was hesitant, but acquiesced when Josef proposed they all go for the first and last week of Michaela's visit, providing them all some reprieve from the busy, stifling heat and constant nag of responsibility in the city. A cheerful holiday full of warmth, sweet treats, and age-old family traditions ended with a giddy Michaela curled in her window seat in her nightdress, pen to paper, describing to Sully the day's events and her grateful and eager acceptance of their invitation.

Sully, much like Michaela, was thrilled with his gift from her, which outshone all his others. Johann and Josie were hard-pressed to tear him away from the window where he'd perched to watch for winter birds, when it came time to share their Christmas meal.

At supper he silently prayed Michaela would be allowed to come this summer, and opening his eyes, found himself overwhelmingly grateful for the kind, generous hearts which had given him such a wonderful home. In six months time, he had grown to love Johann dearly and admire him greatly. He was a strict man who believed in hard work, deep personal responsibility for one's thoughts and actions, and thoughtful reflection upon the experiences given to one in life, and Sully had quickly adopted these values as his own. He loved and missed his family deeply, but the bitterness, anger, and hopelessness he had begun to feel before he met Michaela were slowly melting away, to be replaced by well-placed fond sentiments of a family who had started him out in the world, laying the foundation for his character, and who in their leaving had left wide open the opportunities by which he met Michaela and then this, his new family in Josie and Johann. Smiling at them over a warm Christmas pudding, he found he could only be grateful for all life had granted him.