Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry Page B

future we faced was no more than the old Cuthbert place, but it shone before us. After all that had happened, I was almost surprised to see that I was still a young woman. I was twenty-six. Nathan was twenty-four. We were young and strong and full of desire. When I looked with Nathan at his place, soon to be ours, we saw it as it was and as it might be. We knew what we would ask of it. We were ready for what it would ask of us.
    One big problem remained. It was my problem, and I felt helpless to solve it. Our plans had to be told. If we were going to do what we wanted to do, we were going to have to say what we wanted. Port William no doubt already had a good idea what we were up to and was waiting to be told, but the people who needed to be told first were Mr. and Mrs. Feltner.
    I couldn’t do it. I knew they probably already guessed, but I couldn’t see myself telling them. I couldn’t imagine the words. For me to tell them, it seemed like, would be to agree somehow to their loss. It would be as if to say that their loss, from now on, would be only theirs, not mine.
    I told Nathan, “I can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry. What am I going to do? Run away and write them a letter?”

    Nathan said, “You don’t have to do anything.”
    That same evening after supper he found Mr. Feltner where he knew to look for him—out on the back porch, smoking a cigar.
    â€œHello, Nathan,” Mr. Feltner said. “Come and sit down.”
    Nathan stepped up onto the porch and sat beside him. It was a warm summer evening and clear. The light was going to last a long time. Mrs. Feltner and I were in the kitchen with Little Margaret, finishing up after supper. We were making enough noise, and talking away as we usually did when we worked together. We didn’t know Nathan was on the place.
    Out on the porch, they made the usual comments about the work and the weather.
    And then Nathan said, “Mr. Feltner, Hannah and I have been talking. We want to get married. I want to make it right with you.”
    Mr. Feltner looked at the end of his cigar and thought for the proper words. This wasn’t a conversation that went very fast. He said, “It’s Hannah’s choice, Nathan. It’s up to her. I will tell you only what you know. She is a daughter to us.”
    Then Nathan thought about what he should say, and he said, “I wouldn’t ever want her to be any less a daughter to you than she is now, or Little Margaret any less a granddaughter.”
    Mr. Feltner thought again with his head down, and then he looked at Nathan. He said, “If she loves you, and you love her, you’ll be as welcome to us as you can be.”
    Nathan said no more. To change the subject Mr. Feltner said, “Well, I’m going to gain a better neighbor in this. I reckon you’ll keep the line fence fixed.” And he laughed. The Cuthbert half of the line fence had been a nuisance to him almost all his life.
    â€œI’ll fix the fence,” Nathan said.
    Mr. Feltner got up and went to the kitchen door and called in, “Ladies, we’ve got company. Come on out.”
    Nathan stood up as we came out. Mr. Feltner reached for Mrs. Feltner’s hand and smiled at her. He said, “Margaret, Hannah and Nathan are going to get married. Nathan has come to ask for our blessing.”
    â€œOh, bless you!” Mrs. Feltner said, looking at us both, and laughing to keep from crying. “Oh, bless your dear hearts!”

    And so our tale was told, no longer a secret from anybody. Some in Port William became more interested than before. Some, now that they knew for certain, turned their attention to things they weren’t so sure about.
    The next day was Sunday. In the afternoon Nathan came and got me, and we went to look at the old house. Until then I had seen it only from a distance. Though he didn’t say so, I knew Nathan was worrying. What was I going to think of it?