Monday Afternoon [14 July 1914]

My darling Husband,

How I would love to love you this very evening, and believe me, I could play that part fine. This time when you come, it will be the 2^nd act. Ha! Ha! With Bobby White and Marguerite Rand as best man and leading lady. I hope with a few rehearsals, they will play their parts better. Don’t you, dearest?

In fact, I am quite sure they will. But in all probability, it will take a few months to get it down pat. Ha! Ha! But when they do, Oh! There are going to be some good times sometime. So cheer up peaches and cream.

Honey bunch, be sure and come right home (here). You know where one of your homes is don’t you dearest? 311 N. Franklin St. I don’t want you to go to your uncle’s first, but you may call on them while you are in the city, but don’t stay there but one day. Come to me first. Mamma was saying last night that she didn’t want us to meet in the yard as if I happened to be in the swing and saw you. I would yell and attract attention then fly to you and we would both forget others were living in the neighborhood.—I suppose it is about 100 miles to Columbia, tho’ that is only a guess. I don’t know the population, but we will talk about and find out about every place we can when you come. I wish we could locate in Kansas City, Mo., but if you can’t now, perhaps you can later. That picture is a dandy thank you. But I don’t think you belong in any such place.

Ellen Sangster Griggs is here visiting, so I’ll not write very much. You and I can talk better anyway. The letters I rec’d today were great. I am sure the paper was alright—just so I hear from my darling boy. That is what I want.
Your loving wife,
Clara

Sunday [July 13, 1913]

Dear husband:--
I wish you were here today. I was out in the swing all morning. Did not go out on any expeditions as we didi last Sun. morning.

The Selby kids are practicing hymns. It would be a good idea if their mother would practice a few, but she knows how to inquire about Hims Ha! Ha!

Mamma and I went over to see Mrs. Uetz last night. She isn't any better, but she asked about Dr. Lay. She said she liked you so well. You must send some word to her in my letters. She said to tell you to come back, but she said, "I don't want him to take you away. I am afraid he will, won't he?" I told her no, you wouldn't; that when you came back it would be on a visit. We must go over a few minutes some eve. when you come. It will do her a world of good.

So many here were sick this past week, so I guess I wasn't the only one. Mamma was sick last night, but she is alright today.

I wonder what Pearl will say when she writes to you.

It seems terrible for your father not to know it, but there is so many children there, that I am afraid that they would write to everyone they knew here. Aren't you? If you come soon, we will announce it then we won't have to be careful. Have you decided sure that you can come? I do hope so, but you know best.

Mamma said all of the osteo's had a right to come to the convention as the "Old Dr." is not likely to be here if they should ever meet here again. They are coming from far and near. A great many are here now; came early to avoid the rush Ha! Ha! and, I suppose, take a few weeks vacation--when it stormed so here the other eve. I wished for you dearest. I felt as tho' the lightning couldn't strike me if I were in your arms. Really, isn't it wonderful the protection a husband is to his wife in so many ways. A woman is so much more dependant than a man. Don't you think so honey?

This is all of this part of my letter. Here are a dozen XXXXXXXXXXXX's

Your loving wife,
Clara Gibson Lay

Saturday [July 12, 1913]

Dear Husband:--

I received your sweet letters yesterday and today, and read them more than once. It would be impossible to get along without them, as it is almost impossible for me to get along without my darling husband.

I am hoping to have you with me for a couple of weeks before very long. I’ll be simply delighted to have you. Hope you get along well with the Kans. Dr.

Of course it was alright to confide in Pearl, as she was a friend of yours when you were a kid. I just imagine you’ll get this letter on your birthday, so accept all kinds of congratulations. To think, you are 21 now—old enough to vote. Ha! Ha!

I am feeling much better than I did earlier in the week. Think I’ll be feeling fine by tomorrow, then if you would only be here tomorrow night, wouldn’t it be great? I’d love to love you. Would you object, honey?

If you have forgotten what the message of the violet is, I’ll tell you. “I love you, I love you, and my heart’s true blue.”

I am so thankful that the fire didn’t reach your office dear, but it surely came closer than I want it to come any more. You know I have been having a presentment about you and fires, and it worried me so much, so really believe this is what was going to happen and that you would be in danger. Don’t you think that must have been the reason?

Papa likes you. In fact, I believe you are the only boy I went with that he likes, and mother like you also. Of course, Daddy is a little childish and no one must pay attention to things he says sometime. We may be worse if we live to be as old as he is. But you surely mad e a hit with him, as I think he likes your style, then your uncle said so many nice things about you, and amongst the rest that you had no bad habits and weren’t lazy. And that surely made Papa think you were the proper kind of boy for me. Of course, he would rather I had never married, but I knew I would not be happy later. And when you came into my life, I was absolutely certain I’d be happier with you and unhappy without you. So, as you thought the same (I suppose Ha! Ha!) that is how it all happened and I’m very glad that it did, as I think and hope it will prove to be better for both of us. It was so sweet of you speaking of Papa and Mamma needing our attention. It made me feel as tho’ I was not so much alone as I might have been, especially if I should live longer than they do, which, of course, no one knows, but if I did, and it wasn’t for you, I would be alone in the world. So, darling, can’t you see what you mean to me? You might say everything. But I mustn’t worship you, as we are told not to have other gods or idols; must worship but the one God, but I come as near as is possible worshiping you, honey.

This is all for the present.

Lovingly,
Clara Gibson Lay

Thursday [July 10, 1913]

Dear Husband:--

I didn’t receive any word from you to-day, but will pardon you, as I enjoyed the messages I rec’d yesterday, and I know once in a while it is alright for you to take a day off to write someone else, as you mustn’t neglect your writing to your father, and dropping a card occasionally to Lester, your grandmother, and your other uncles.

I hope your sisters get along alright when they are confined, anyway, it is always dangerous. Your sister is so young that was married last fall. Too bad they couldn’t have been careful for a few years. Don’t you think so honey? So you are too old to marry. Well, well, I didn’t know that you had joined the ranks of the Bachelor Boys, dear. Now isn’t it a shame that you can never be a bachelor, nor I an ancient peach, tho’ I feel like I was a blue dameon plum at present-- Ha! Ha!-- though I feel better today than I did yesterday. I went with Papa out for a drive for about an hour this morning. The weather was more pleasant than last night and this morning. And I got a good night’s rest last night. I just imagine you enjoy hearing all that, but you know I have to fight malaria every year from this time on for several weeks.

I ‘phoned your aunt and she said her father was some better and that Lester had rec’d a card from the Dr.

Do you like Harrison any better by this time?

I was so amused at Papa the other day. I don’t remember of writing to you about it. He said that maybe

After you had been away a while, had the experience, and had seen how things were in other places that you would reconsider and decide to come closer here. You know I had told him about you having to treat for a dollar a treatment. I think he is like I am. If you treat for you had better be nearer here for a good many reasons. The car-fare alone would am’t to considerable in a year. As the climate there is not what I would consider the best, if you get a chance to sell out, do so. Isn’t that what you think best? I’d love to have you nearer here, at least for a few years. Then if you heard of a good opening someplace west, try it. I asked if you know how many there were in Mobesby, didn’t I? And Columbia? You know I heard that would be a good place for another osteopath. Of course, oftentimes it is guesswork, but C. C. Howard, formerly the editor of the Daily Express here, lived in Columbia for some time, and that was his idea that another would do alright there.

Oh! Honey, I wish you were here. I’d love to love you this very minute, and for about 24 hrs, straight ahead. You know what that means, don’t you dear? That we would go to sleep in each other arms. Won’t that be glorious when we do have that golden opportunity?

Your loving wife,
Clara Gibson Lay

Honey, I wasn’t planning to do anything but love you when you came. Mamma thinks there would be no stopping place here for us just to send the announcements out of town—except your aunt and uncle and Ray.

We will have to leave the at-home cards out if you haven’t decided sure what you are going to do in the next two weeks. If we do, sending it out of town, each one will think it was an accident.

Wednesday Evening [July 9 1913]

Dear Husband:--

The first thing I shall do is ask you to pardon a letter written with a pencil, as I am writing out in the swing. I enjoyed your letters so much, and the card was great. So glad you have been so thoughtful as to secure a safe for the kisses. I sure want you to save them all, unless you give Pauline one occasionally.

I am so glad dear that you didn’t join those naughty boys who went to the Yancy-house. My own sweetheart has higher ideals than that. Remember I trust you and always have confidence in you wherever you may be.

Dearest, I have been sick yesterday and today, but I don’t worry, it is just my time to feel miserable, and I have felt worse than usual this time as I had a few other troubles. This is the first I have been up to stay today, and it is about six o’clock. You might know that I wished for you, but really, we would have a much better time if I was feeling good, which I hope to be soon.

Sure, that will be fine for us to have your office in our home, won’t it honey? We are going to have to make up for this time we are losing sometime in the future.

I know you will pardon this attempt at a letter, as I don’t feel like doing better. I haven’t been helping Mamma any to-day or yesterday, but I hope to to-morrow.

Lovingly,
Clara

Papa and Mamma send love to you

July 7th 1913

Dr. T.H. Lay
Harrison, Ark.

Dear Husband:--
Doesn’t that look formal? Ha! Ha! There would be some informal loving going on if you were here. I wish you were this very minute.

I hope you get that Kans. Dr. In the notion of coming to Harrison so you can sell out to him, and not be out any for the trip and the time you have spent there. Be sure and count everything in your sale price. Ha! Ha! So you won’t be the loser. I am so anxious to see you. Hope you are here in a few weeks. I’ll be disappointed if you aren’t. I wonder how many osteopaths there are in Mobesby. I wish you could come someplace that close. Wouldn’t it be great? Sweetheart, all you can do is keep trying till you find a place that suits you best. No one can ever tell till they try, Can they dearest? But you will get along beautifully when you find the right location. And I hope it will be near here, as Papa is going to have a spell if I go very far away for all the time. He has been worrying a great deal the past few weeks, and Mamma said she believed he was getting worse instead of better as the weeks passed. Of course, he realizes his age and will miss me more than if he were in business or had other children. You could have for a good excuse to give the Kans. Dr. for leaving Ark. That you were married just when school closed, and your wife’s parents were getting along in years. And at the present time she didn’t want to go that far away from them. Wouldn’t that be O.K.? --Dear, I neglect all of my correspondence for you. But you know that I think of you best of all. I must write to Mrs. Howerton to-morrow. And, as I also have a pupil and we will have to iron in the morning, I’ll not write to you till Wednesday. But I am sure breaking the record writing so many letters to you. But then you know, honey, I don’t want you to forget you are married. Ha! Ha! As if you would. But you know I love to jolly you once in a while*I sure had a good laugh about the covered wagons. It must be laughable.

Dr. Collins from El Paso was here a few days last week. Mr. Griggs is here visiting and having some dental work done. I haven’t talked to her yet, only over the ‘phone. Some time she’ll be shocked. You remember they were the bride and groom we had so much fun with last fall. Oh, Honey, I am glad we had fun all by ourselves, didn’t we? That is the best way, isn’t it dearie? And we will have some more fun some time buy say; some of it wasn’t so funny for me. Understand? But the most of it was, and the rest will be sometime, but it takes time. Doesn’t it? I am sure I know enough to keep still and not tell other girls what some of my married friends told me. But I am really glad they did so we would know it was nothing out of the ordinary. Ha! Ha!

I am hoping to see you real soon, and the way we will love each other will not be slow. Will it snooky-odd-lums?

Is Pauline coming to her grandma’s with you, and are her sisters coing? *Papa and Mamma send love to their son.

Won’t your sister have 6 fits within the next few months, as well as about 100 others or more.

Lovingly,
Clara

Thanks for the kisses. I wish they were real.

Sunday Afternoon [July 6th 1913]

Dear husband:--

This is a glorious day, but it would be still better if you were here dear. It has been so pleasant today, and we enjoy it after so many hot days. But it is getting much warmer this afternoon.

This morning Anna and I started out for a drive and we passed Louie Burk and he was going to his brother’s for John Selby, his nephew, two years old so we took him in and went to Selby’s for the baby, just on purpose for Mrs. S to have some more gossip. Louie wanted to drive by Young’s so that they could see the baby, so we did, and Harve came out and Louie introduced him to me and forgot that Anna didn’t know him. So, when he went in the house, I introduced her. Harve said, "Is this Miss Clara Gibson?" Of course, I had to say yes. Then he said, "I have heard of you quite often. I have heard my sister speak of you and also Dr. Lay. By the way, we heard Dr. Lay was married." I acted very much surprised and asked to whom you were married. He said, "Anyone would naturally suppose he would marry the girl he was going with the most."

I told him that you often heard of a couple being together frequently and then one suddenly marrying someone else, and he admitted that was true. I told him that I sincerely hoped you weren’t married or going to marry, as I enjoyed having you call when you were in the city. Then we said good-bye to him and left Louie in the house, but he ran to the door and yelled for me so loud that I stopped about two blocks away to avoid excitement. They he came carrying the baby. I think he takes after his grand-mother. His is so heavy and he carried him so awkward, just like an old cat with a kitten. Louie sure thinks you are just right. Sounded your praises to best the band.

How I wish you were here today. I’d give peaches and a big mellow apple to see the ideal of my dreams, and we would love each other in the same old way. Wouldn’t we honey?

I’d never tire of loving you. Could you say the same? True Love, I believe you could, and that is what makes me so happy thinking of you and the love we have for each other and the billions of kisses you told me you had stored away for me. I am longing to have you near me all the time, but I am doing the best I can to make the moments pass quickly till we meet.

Ruth Selby (ten yrs. Old) was over at Anna’s the eve of the 4th. Opal was there. Ruth said, "Wonder where that fellow is that used to be over at Clara’s so much. He was just there morning noon and night. What was his name?" Opal said Smith. Ruth didn’t think that sounded like the name that Mrs. Fleak told mama. Opal said Jones. "No that’s not it, but I don’t believe he’s here yet.1 Opal said 1yes, he’s here" and Mamma told her that she didn’t know. Aren’t they frights?

Are you rested from your trip yet, dear? I hope so, and that you are feeling fine. I wish there weren’t so many miles between you and I this afternoon, but I’ll try not to think of it. Sundays are the hardest for me to get through with. But, honey, there is a good time coming and we must think of that and forget the desolate present while we are living apart. I have written several pages, so will close.

Your loving wife,
Clara Gibson Lay