Love Comes Softly

by Janette Oke

  Marty busied herself embroidering two sets of pillowcases for the new brides. She was fearful lest her true feelings show themselves even in her stitching. The one pair was so much joy to work. The other made her fingers feel as heavy as her heart.

  Soon enough the big day arrived. The sun promised a warm spring day as Marty bustled about readying the pots of food that she would be taking and getting Missie and Clare dressed in their finest.

  She decided she would wear her as yet unworn blue-gray dress. She finally accepted that she would “feel right” in it. Clark did look at her with admiration, and she found she didn’t mind it. She felt herself flush under his gaze.

  Marty’s eyes cast joyfully about the yard and the surrounding hills as they packed up the wagon. A child at her side and babe in arms, she faced the bright morning beside Clark, pointing out each new sign of spring. Though the fields were now bare, with only patches of soiled snow left in hidden places, the first flowers were slowly lifting their heads to the sun. Returning birds occasionally made an appearance on a fence post or tree limb. But the surest sign of spring was the feeling within her as she breathed in the warm, fragrant air.

  They were one of the first families to reach the Grahams’, and Marty wanted to help Ma with the last of the preparations. Clark assured her that Missie and Clare would be fine left with him; the fresh air would do them all good. As Marty turned to hurry into the house, she heard Ben’s comments on what a fine-looking son Clare was and Clark’s gentle boasts of the tiny boy’s already apparent strength and awareness. Marty smiled to herself.

  Makeshift benches had been placed around for the church service, and long tables were arranged for the meal.

  Ma’s house was soon a hive of activity, for a visit from the preacher and two weddings on the same day were cause for any amount of flurry.

  The Stern family arrived, causing Sally Anne to flush a becoming shade. Marty was glad to see Jason look at her with pride and love in his eyes.

  Just before the service was to begin, Milt Conners appeared, looking as cocky and troublesome as ever. The men sociably made room for him on the bench, but Marty could understand the distress of the Grahams. She could not feel at ease about this man, either.

  After all were seated on the benches, Ben Graham stood to his feet and welcomed the neighbors to his farm on this “fine spring day.” He trusted they would find the Easter service a “real blessin’” and invited them to share in the weddings of his two eldest daughters, thanking them kindly “fer all the good food appearin’ on the tables.”

  He then introduced the visiting preacher, Pastor Simmons, and expressed how “fine it is to have ’im here on Easter Sunday mornin’, an’ I know we’s all lookin’ forward to sharin’ in the mornin’ meetin’.”

  The pastor took charge of things then, and he commented on the “beautiful day that the Lord hath made,” expressed his delight at seeing them all in attendance, and led the group in prayer. They sang a few hymns from memory, not having any hymnals. Marty didn’t know the words to any of the hymns, but she enjoyed listening to the others sing. She must get Clark to teach her some of the tunes and words to the songs, she decided.

  When Pastor Simmons began to speak to the people, Marty listened intently. The simple but powerful story of Easter began with Christ’s ministry to the people of His day, His arrest, and the false accusations that sentenced Him to die. The preacher told of the political factions of the time and the historical reasons for His death, but he then explained the real purpose in the Father allowing, yea, planning for His beloved Son to die.

  Marty’s heart was torn as she listened. She had heard before how cruel men of Christ’s day had put Him to death with no just cause, but never before had she realized it had anything at all to do with her. Now to hear the fact that He personally took the punishment for her sins, as well as for the sins of all mankind, was a startling and sobering discovery.

  I didn’t know—I jest didn’t know thet ya died fer me, her heart cried as she sat on one of the benches, Clare held tightly in her arms and Missie and Clark on either side. I’m sorry—truly I am. Lord, I asks ya to be doin’ what yer intendin’ in my heart. Tears slipped from her eyes and down her cheeks. She didn’t even bother to wipe them away. She could feel Clark’s eyes on her when he occasionally glanced her way.

  But the preacher did not stop there. He went on with the story of that first Easter morning when the women went early to the tomb and found the Lord had risen.

  “He lives,” said the preacher, “and because He is victor over sin and death, we, too, can be.”

  Marty’s heart filled with such a surge of joy she felt like shouting—but not here, not now, she cautioned herself. She would eventually, though. She had to tell someone that now she understood. I’ve given myself to be a knowin’ Clark’s God, she told herself, awed by the thought.

  She reached over and slipped her hand into Clark’s. When Clark looked at her, she returned his gaze. He must have read the difference in her face, and the big hand firmly squeezed her smaller one. Marty knew he shared her joy, as she now shared his God. It was enough.

  * * *

  The weddings followed the worship service. Laura and Milt stood together first in front of the pastor. Sally Anne had wanted it that way. Milt looked down at his feet, shifting back and forth with regularity. He looked rather careless in demeanor and attire, though he had trimmed his beard and had a haircut. Laura looked shyly at him in a way that made Marty hope maybe, with the help of a good woman’s love, this man could indeed change. She wanted with all her heart for the two of them to find happiness together.

  Jason and Sally Anne stood next, and Marty knew the joy and love showing on their faces was reflected in the Grahams’ as well as her own heart. How easy it was to share in their happiness.

  As soon as the ceremonies were over, the neighbors began the merrymaking, throwing rice, ringing cowbells, and lining up to kiss the brides. The two couples were finally allowed to sit down at the table piled with gifts, and while the womenfolk made preparations for the noon meal, the brides unwrapped their presents.

  As the good-natured talk and laughter continued during the meal, the Larsons arrived. Jedd swaggered over to the tables, not even bothering to tether his team. Mrs. Larson placed a pan of corn bread with the other dishes and, with eyes to the ground, ushered her youngsters to a safe-looking place at a far table. Marty rose and, with a pretense of refilling the water pitcher, passed close to the woman.

  “Ya all be welcome. So glad ta see ya agin’,” Marty said softly. The woman did not lift her eyes, but a small spot of color appeared in each cheek as she nodded in answer. “The good Lord has done so much fer all of us,” Marty continued, reaching out to tousle each child’s hair. “Preacher talked ’bout it this mornin’, how God can clean up folks’ hearts and change their ways. He’s put me on that path,” she added, not exactly sure how to express what she was feeling.

  Marty’s feelings soared with satisfaction as she noticed Mrs. Larson’s upward glance. Wasn’t that an expression of hope? Meanwhile, Jedd just loaded his plate and settled down to eat. Further visiting with Mrs. Larson could come at another time.

  When the tables had been cleared away, the two new young couples loaded their wagons and kissed Ma good-bye. Ma bore up bravely, but there was a longing in her eyes as she kissed Sally Anne good-bye, and an expression of deep concern as she pulled Laura close to her, holding her at length before she released her. Marty turned away lest her own tears spill over.

  Clark and Marty lingered for a while, sensing how a difficult time in the Grahams’ lives had been made even more so, then collected their children and got themselves on home.

  “All in all, this was a good day,” Marty told Clark, and he nodded his agreement.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Planting

  The sun carried more warmth each day, and Marty was very glad to get the children outside into the fresh air. Clark had finished work on the new be
drooms, and Marty had added her own touches with curtains and rugs. They did appreciate the additional areas for work and play. Clark’s days began early and ended only when it was too dark to see any longer in the fields he was tilling, and every day more land was ready for the carefully guarded seed that had survived the fire.

  Enough grass was now finding its way out of the earth for the three cows to graze. A young calf was in the weaning pen, the second cow was still to calf, and a third would come much later.

  One of the sows already had offspring at her side. Missie was especially captivated by the squealing little piglets trying to get their fair share at mealtimes. The sow had not given them as good a litter as they had hoped, bearing only six and losing two, but they thought the second sow might do better. Three of Marty’s eight hens were sitting on eggs. She hoped to replenish the chicken coop again.

  The new barn stood straight and strong, a bit larger than its predecessor. As yet it was still unchinked, but that could be done during slack time later in the year. The roof was on and the floor in. It would do as it was until after the crop was in the ground.

  Marty was humming one of the new hymns she was learning as she worked on breakfast preparations. Missie had specifically asked for pancakes, and as Marty stirred the batter she remembered those early weeks in this little house when all she knew how to make was pancakes. Then she thought of the two new brides and wondered how they were making out with their cooking responsibilities. She was sure they would do much better, with Ma having trained them well.

  Sally Anne was well settled in. She and Jason had driven over one evening to return the saddle horse. Jason’s eyes shone with pride as he boasted of how Sally Anne had hung the curtains, spread the rugs, and set her little kitchen in order. She was a right fine cook, too, he went on, and Sally Anne’s cheeks had flushed with pleasure. Clark and Marty chuckled about it later. Marty smiled now as she pictured the young couple so content in their love for each other.

  Then her thoughts shifted to Laura. How was Laura really doing? she wondered. Clark had seen her recently when he had driven up over the brow of a hill, and there was Laura walking down the road. She had seemed startled at his sudden appearance, he said, and had turned sharply away. When he stopped the team to offer her a lift, she looked back at him to say, “No thanks, walkin’ be right good for me.” But her eyes looked troubled and there was a bruise on her cheek. He had gone on his way, but as he related his story to Marty that evening she could tell he was deeply troubled by it all. Poor Laura, Marty thought, shaking her head. To be expecting a child with this man and seeming so unhappy and alone. Her heart ached for her—and for Ma Graham.

  She could hear Clark whistling as he came from the barn, so she called Missie to come quickly to the table. I wonder, she thought as she helped the child into her chair, if spring plantin’ always makes a man so happy like.

  Spring was getting into her blood, too, and she was anxious to sink her own hands into the soil. It was so wonderful to feel slim and comfortable again. She felt like she was gliding about, no longer weighted down and clumsy “carrying a young’un everywhere I go,” as she had expressed it once to Ma. She was thankful to have baby Clare out where she could hug him close or lay him down at will.

  During their morning reading and prayer, Marty almost smiled as Clark read, “‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. ’” She felt she understood the meaning of Jesus’ words in a special way.

  I thank ye, Lord, that ye be teachin’ me how to rest in you, she prayed inwardly. Ya be comfortin’ me, and I be grateful for that.

  After Clark had finished praying and committing their day to God, Marty asked, “Be it about time to plant the garden?”

  “Some of the seeds should go in now. I be thinkin’ this mornin’ thet I best put the plow to work turnin’ the ground. Should be ready fer ya in short order. Ya wantin’ to plant it today?”

  “Oh yes,” Marty answered enthusiastically. “Me, I’m right eager to get goin’ on it. Only...”

  When she couldn’t think of how to tell him, Clark urged, “Only what?”

  Marty flushed. “Well... I never planted before.”

  “Planted what?”

  “Planted anythin’.”

  “Didn’t yer folks have themselves a garden?”

  “My ma said ’twas a nuisance, thet she’d as leave buy off a neighbor or from the store. She didn’t care none fer the soil, I reckon.”

  “An’ you?”

  “I think I’d love to git into makin’ somethin’ grow. I can hardly wait to try. Only...”

  Clark looked across at her. “Only what?” he prompted again.

  “Well,” Marty gulped, “I know thet the garden be a woman’s work, but I was wonderin’...” She hesitated. “Jest this one time, could ya show me how to plant the seeds an’ all?”

  Clark looked as though he was trying not to smile and answered slowly, “I reckon I could... this once, mind.”

  Marty looked at him and the twinkle in his eye and took a deep breath of relief. It was the first time she had been able to bring herself to ask him for something, and he seemed to be pleased rather than offended by it. She said, “The best time be right after dinner while the young’uns be havin’ their naps. Will the ground be plowed an’ ready by then?”

  Clark nodded. “I think I can oblige that schedule,” he said with mock seriousness as he got up for the coffeepot. Marty nearly choked on a mouthful of pancake. It was the first time she had missed getting his second cup of coffee for some months. Clark seemed unperturbed as he poured for both of them and returned to his place.

  Over their steaming mugs they discussed what seeds she would plant; then he reached for his hat. “Thet be good coffee,” he said as he went out the door.

  At noon after the dinner dishes were done and the children settled, Clark and Marty spread the garden seeds out on the kitchen table to decide what was to be put in at first planting and what left until later. Clark patiently showed her the different seeds, telling her what they were and the peculiarity of their growing habits. Marty listened wide-eyed. He knew so much, Clark did, and as he talked about the seeds, they seemed to take on personalities right before her eyes—like children, needing special care and attention.

  They soon gathered up the seeds and headed for the garden. The sun warmed the ground, making the freshly turned soil smell delightfully inviting. The two laughed together about how Missie, and soon Clare, too, would want to be getting their hands—as well as the rest of their little bodies—into the dirt.

  Marty reached down and let a handful of the soil trickle through her fingers. It’s beautiful, she wanted to say, but it seemed such a foolish word to describe dirt. She suddenly stopped, and turning her back to Clark, she slipped off her shoes. Then lifting her skirt modestly, she peeled off her stockings and tucked them carefully into the toes of the shoes. Standing barefoot, feeling the luxury of the warm earth, she dug her toes deeply into its moist richness. She felt like a child again—young and free, with burdens and responsibilities stripped away for the moment.

  No wonder horses like ta lie down and roll when their harness is taken off, she thought. Me, I’d love to be doin’ the same thing.

  Clark was already busy preparing rows for her to plant. She went down on her knees and began to drop seeds into the fertile ground.

  “Someday soon, I’ll be watchin’ ya grow,” she said quietly as the tiny carrot seeds spilled from her hand.

  Clark returned to cover the row after she had placed the seed.

  He looks to be enjoyin’ it ’most as much as I am, thought Marty. Then she caught sight of their gamboling calf and wished she herself had the nerve to skip around like that. It’s good jest to be livin’ on sech a day.

  The two worked on together, for the most part in silence, and Marty was feeling a new comradeship with the earth and with this tall, patient man whom she called her husband. Nearing the end of their task, Clar
k squatted down to carefully pat earth over the sweet corn Marty had just dropped into the ground.

  Seeing his rather unstable position, Marty sneaked up behind him and gave him a playful shove. He went sprawling in the loose dirt as he took a quick look at her trying to hide her laughter behind her hands.

  “Me thinks there’s someone askin’ fer sweet corn down her neck,” he said, scrambling up and reaching for a handful of corn.

  Marty was off at a run, but even though she was rather nimble, Clark’s long strides soon overtook her. Both long arms went about her, halting her escape. She writhed and twisted against him, seeking to loose herself, but her laughter made her efforts most ineffectual. Clark tried to hold her close so he could free one hand with the corn kernels, but his own laughter was hampering his efforts.

  Marty was conscious of his nearness in a way she had never been before. The strength of the arms that held her, the beating of the heart against her cheek, the clean smell of shaving soap that still clung to him—everything about this man who held her sent warm tingles all through her. Her breath was beginning to come in little gasps, and she was powerless to struggle any longer.

  The one strong arm pinned her securely against him, and his other hand dumped its load of kernels down the front of her dress. Marty looked up into laughing eyes bent over her, uncomfortably close to her own. The breath caught in her throat as a strangely familiar emotion swept through her. The expression on Clark’s face was somehow changing from teasing to something else.

  Marty pulled back abruptly, an unreasoning fear filling her heart and her body going weak.

  “Thet be Clare?” she said quickly, pushing with trembling hands against Clark’s chest.

  Clark let her go, and she half ran, half stumbled to the house, her cheeks aflame.

  Inside she leaned her head against the bedroom door, trying to sort out the reasons for her throbbing heart and troubled spirit. She could find no answer, and after giving herself several minutes to get herself in hand, she picked up her courage and returned to the garden. But Clark was just putting away the tools. The job was done.