Mail Order Annie
Copyright© 2025 by DFL Runner
Chapter 8
Just as the day’s reading lessons were finishing, Lydia tossed an envelope onto the dining-room table in front of Annie. It could only barely be properly called an envelope. It was almost thick enough to be a parcel, and the “thud” with which it landed on the table confirmed its heft.
Annie didn’t even need to look at the envelope to know what it was. Lydia standing there, with an expression that looked for all the world like a prospector who had just discovered gold, told her everything.
Annie hesitated; her body seemed to have forgotten to breathe.
Lydia sighed in exasperation. “Well, tarnation, woman! He didn’t write that much just to tell you to stay here! Open it!”
Annie reached out for it. It was not clear if it was hesitation or genuine concern that caused her to pause and ask, “Who will teach them if I leave?”
It occurred to Lydia to ask Annie if the absence of a successor would cause her to stay in Scranton, but thought better of it; given Annie’s dedication to teaching the others, it just might.
“I have made some inquiries,” she said. This was a slight hedge; she would begin making inquiries tomorrow.
Annie swallowed hard, reached for the envelope, and opened it, extracting four pieces of paper.
Each page was written in a different hand, but she knew which one to look for first. Fortunately, it was on top.
Annie’s eyes scanned the page, and saw the word she wanted to see: “Come.” With that, she closed her eyes, feeling for all the world like she could stretch out her arms and fly away like a bird.
Then she found herself gasping for breath, as though she had been underwater for these past several months, and now had finally surfaced.
Once she gathered her wits about her, she found the second sheet of paper.
Annie gasped. “They want me to teach.”
Lydia paused a beat, then a puzzled expression crossed her face. “They? Who wants you to teach?”
“Oh. Ah...” It was then that Annie realized just how much of this she had kept to herself. “Harry ... he ... he’s a tailor. That is, he’s a farmer. And a clerk in their general store. But he was apprenticed as a tailor.” She gestured at Lydia. “Your ... what’s the word? ... your equivalent in Fargo hires him to make dresses. She wants me to teach her girls.”
Lydia raised an eyebrow. “How is she going to compensate you? Certainly we can imagine how she compensates him, but she can’t barter for your services.”
Annie paused, measuring her response in her mind before speaking. “I don’t ... I don’t believe that is their agreement. I have known about this woman from the beginning, and he speaks of her as a friend and not as a client.”
Lydia shrugged. She didn’t believe the relationship was purely platonic, but Annie did, and she would not disabuse her of that notion, least of all at this moment.
The next letter was a bit longer. As she read it, she exclaimed to herself, “Oh! Yes. The rabbi.” Still, she remained puzzled even after re-reading it a few times.
“The rabbi?” inquired Lydia. “Is Harry an Israelite, then?”
Annie shook her head. “No. This is another friend of his. I have known of him for some time as well.”
Annie then paused as realization struck her. Harry had become real to her. Rabbi Mendel, Miss Cora ... she had read about them, but they had been abstractions to her, as if they were characters in a much-loved book, not real people. The letters in front of her were no abstractions – they were real, written by others who also wanted to make room for her in their world.
For her. The thought filled her with joy ... and urgency ... as she turned it over in her mind.
“May I see this one?” asked Lydia as she stretched her arm out.
Annie passed it over. Lydia read it and set it down, smiling.
“It’s a letter of reference. It’s quite probable that your new employer asked him to write it.”
Lydia paused and reflected. “About a year before you came to live with us, I was at the depot collecting a letter that had been posted to me and I saw a woman put off the train. She was bound for New Jersey to visit her sister. She ... her name was Naomi ... she stepped off the train for some air when it stopped here, and the station master inquired about the purpose of her travel. Naomi said she was traveling to visit her sister and her new husband, but she struggled to remember her sister’s married name, so the station master wouldn’t let her reboard. Instead, he took her suitcase off the train and brought her to me.”
“I think Naomi thought I was just some kind woman who could help. She didn’t realize that by bringing her to me, the station master was accusing Naomi of ... well ... of traveling for some immoral purpose. We were able to sort it out – she wired her sister and her husband wired the station manager – but we had to put her up here overnight.”
“This letter is intended to protect you from such an interruption in your journey. Be sure to keep it close at hand until you get there.”
Annie put the rabbi’s letter on top, vowing to keep it in her sight at all times from this moment until she stepped off the train in Fargo.
She then turned to the last letter and began reading it aloud, idly noticing how Lydia, Abigail, and Esther leaned in to listen to it.
Miriam Mendel
Fargo, Dakota Territory
2nd May, 1873
Dear Annie:
I feel as if I know you already. I don’t think Harry realizes how much he has talked about you since your correspondence began.
I will also share something with you in confidence: while a clergyman is supposed to keep silent about all matters entrusted to his keeping, many of them are known to a clergyman’s wife, and Harry has sought my husband’s counsel concerning you a number of times over these past few months.
I also know the bravery of a woman such as you are showing. It is one thing to be taught that our father Abraham was sent to an unknown new land with the promise of a great reward. It is another for a woman to stand alongside her husband as they are both sent to an unknown new land. Yet our reward has been great: we have many friends here, both Gentile and Jew, and his ministry has been richly blessed among this community.
Now the Holy One sends you to us, and your reward will be great. You will have a home. You will have dignity. You will have love. You will be joining a fine man. And a place at my table also awaits you, along with a friend who understands what it is to begin again.
Warmly,
Mrs. Miriam Mendel
The silence was broken by Abigail fanning her eyes. “Does Harry have a friend?” she asked.
The following morning, Annie walked into the Western Union office. There was a part of her that still wasn’t sure this was real, and probably wouldn’t be sure this was real until she stepped off the platform at the train station and into the passenger car.
Her hand trembled only slightly as she placed the small slip of paper on the counter and began to write, her handwriting neat and deliberate, as if the care she took in putting her words to paper would be carried through the telegraph wire.