by Janette Oke
She remembered now that she had forgotten to tell the girls about the hotel room. She hadn’t yet told them about her thinking Clark’s watch was lost to thieves, or about the night spent with the bedbugs, or the sight of the real western Indians with their furs for sale. There was still so much to talk about, but talk would just have to wait.
Clark had placed her cases in the corner and returned to the family below.
Marty turned at a movement behind her and saw Luke approaching with the portable bathtub.
“Thought ya might be wantin’ to wash off some trail dust before retirin’,” he said simply and placed the tub on one of the large rugs in the middle of the floor. “I’ll be right back with a couple of pails of warm water.”
Marty gazed at their youngest son with deep love. It was just like Luke to realize she would want to soak in the tub before retiring.
True to his word, he was soon back, and Marty thanked him as he emptied the buckets of water into the tub.
“When yer done just leave it sit,” Luke said, “an’ I’ll take care of it in the mornin’.”
Marty nodded and Luke started to go. At the door he stopped and turned to her. “Good to have ya home, Ma,” he said softly. “Been awfully lonely around here without ya. I missed ya.”
“An’ I missed you,” Marty said with emphasis. “I was so afraid you’d be off fer yer trainin’ an’ me not here to send ya. I was so thankful when ya decided to wait fer a year. I do hope it ain’t caused problems fer ya.”
Luke smiled. “Did me lots of good, I’m thinkin’. Doc has been a great teacher. Can’t believe what he’s taught me over the last year. It did somethin’ else fer me, too, Ma. There’s not a doubt in my mind but thet I want to be a doctor. Some fellas have a hard time at first knowin’ fer sure, Doc said, an’ then it’s a lot of time an’ money wasted.”
“An’ you have no doubt?”
“Nope, none whatever.”
“Then yer Pa and me will give ya our blessin’—even though I hate to think of ya goin’ so far away.”
Luke smiled. “Thanks, Ma,” he said. “I’m ready to go now. I wouldn’ta been last year.”
He was gone then, and Marty turned to her bath.
Oh, how good it feels! she thought as she climbed in and sank into its warmth. She let it wash away all of the travel grime and the extreme weariness from her aching muscles. A clean, warm nightgown, a few brushstrokes of her hair, and she was ready for her bed.
She had no more crawled in than there was a light tap on her door. After Marty’s “Come in,” Ellie entered.
“Just had to say good night an’ welcome home,” she whispered and leaned over to kiss Marty on the cheek. “It’s so good to have ya home, Ma. I missed ya.”
“An’ I missed you. Ellie, I’m proud of the job ya did when I was gone. Everythin’ looks so good, so well cared for. Makes me very proud . . . an’ a little scared, too.”
“Scared?”
“Yeah, scared. I have to admit, an’ I hate to, thet yer truly able to make some lucky man a good wife. I don’t even want to think of thet, Ellie. I hate to lose ya.”
Ellie laughed softly.
“Ma, the worrier,” she said as she stroked back a lock of stray hair from Marty’s forehead. “Don’t ya go frettin’ none ’bout thet. I’m in no hurry at all to set up housekeepin’ on my own.”
“Yer not interested in a home of yer own an’—?”
“Now, I didn’t say thet. Sure, I want a home of my own . . . an’ a family of my own. I just haven’t found the one I wish to share it with yet, thet’s all.” Then she leaned and kissed Marty’s forehead. “Now, you go to sleep an’ sleep as long as ya want in the mornin’. I’ll care fer the family’s breakfast.”
Marty was just closing her eyes when again her bedroom door squeaked and Arnie tiptoed over to her bed. Marty forced her eyes to open.
“’Fraid ya might already be sleepin’,” Arnie said softly. “Didn’t want to waken ya iffen ya were. Clare an’ Kate said to tell ya good night for them. They came over to say it in person an’ found thet you’d already come up to bed.”
“I shoulda thought to wait—”
But Arnie interrupted, “You’ve had a long, tiring day. Pa says thet yer ’bout beat. He’d chase me outta here right now iffen he knew I was botherin’ ya.”
Marty smiled.
“I better git,” Arnie continued and bent to kiss Marty on the top of her hair. Then he whispered softly, “She’s really special, Ma. Yer gonna love her. I’ll tell ya all ’bout her tomorra.” And Arnie, too, was gone, stepping from her room as quietly as he had come in.
Marty’s weary eyes would no longer stay open. Her last thought was of Clark. Where was he? He should be in bed, too. He was just as tired as she was. And then her mind would no longer function, and Marty slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Three
Taking Stock
Clark’s side of the bed was empty but still warm when Marty’s eyes first opened next morning. She had not slept late. After the rest received in her own bed, she was ready to get reacquainted with her farm home. As soon as she had enjoyed Ellie’s breakfast and helped with the dishes, she went out to the garden. Ellie and Kate had indeed planted it well, with more than they would be able to use. Marty smiled as she looked at the quantity and variety of growing things. She had no argument with the types of vegetables the girls had planted, and there no doubt would be neighbors who would be happy to use some of the extras. The garden was already flourishing and productive looking. Though it was still early in the season, Marty could see the potential for a good yield. Here and there she poked a plant upright or patted some extra earth around it or complimented one on its exceptional size for the time of year.
She turned from the vegetable garden to the flowers. The early blooms were already nodding in the morning breeze, dew-sparkled in the sunlight. Marty breathed deeply of their sweet scent as she moved from plant to plant. Honeybees buzzed about the flowers, sipping sweetness from the open petals.
Marty then went out toward the fruit trees. It had been a good spring for the blossoming, and Marty saw that the trees promised a wonderful harvest if the needed rains arrived in time. She prayed they would as she moved on toward the spring.
The woods were cool and green, and Marty’s heart quickened with joy as she inhaled the fresh scent of the trees and the wild flowers beneath them. She hadn’t known how deeply she had missed the coolness and the scent of her woods. In Missie’s West they had not seen a truly wooded area. Marty stopped and watched a robin as it flew to a nearby limb with a worm in its beak. Soon tiny heads and open beaks appeared and began to chirp in unison to be fed. Marty smiled, but she sympathized with the busy mother.
Down the path she walked until she could hear the soft gurgle of the spring. The stream was down some because of the lack of rain, but the water still ran clear and sparkling. Marty bent to touch its shimmering coolness as it whispered its way across the smooth stones that formed the bottom. How inviting it looked!
Marty reached the spring, lowered herself to the ground, and reached out to trail a hand in the water. It was cold to her touch—so cool, in fact, that it made her fingers cramp. Marty wondered as before at this small miracle. How could waters gurgling forth from this tiny hillside in the woods be so cold? Where did the water come from, and how was it kept so cool in its underground travels? In her mind she could taste the sweetness of the cream and butter as they were lifted from the icy waters, even in midsummer.
She cradled her hand in her apron to restore its warmth and sat still, watching the swiftly flowing water. A woodpecker drilled on a nearby tree. There was a scampering in the grass as a wood mouse scurried past. Marty watched a dragonfly dip and swirl over the creek waters. The woods were teeming with life, much of it out of sight and sound, she knew. She continued her silent vigil, listening and watching for any movement that took place about her.
Marty loved the woods. It was such a refre
shing place. Marty needed refreshing. Physically she was still bone weary from the long trip home. Emotionally she was drained from all the excitement of rejoining her family and exploring her beloved home and farm. She’d had many adjustments to make over the last year. She knew that life was full of adjustments; to live meant to change. But Marty, from the depths of her heart, thanked the Lord for the things that stayed constant in a changing world—even things as simple as a quiet stream and a gurgling spring.
And Clark. She smiled and waved as his familiar figure appeared over the hill. She could tell he was concerned about her as he drew near and searched her face for the signs of extreme fatigue that had been there last night.
“Mornin’,” he greeted her as he lowered himself to a spot at her side, using his crutch for support. “Ya didn’t sleep very long. How ya feelin’ today?”
“I’m feelin’ some rested an’ so glad to be home, Clark!” Marty slipped her arm through his. “I’ll be good as new in just a few days, ’specially iffen I can sit here by the spring a spell.”
“So yer aimin’ fer a life a’ leisure,” he teased, his loving squeeze on her hand belying his words. “Ya just go on sittin’ here long as ya like,” he assured her. “Ellie’s got everythin’ well in hand, an’ she likes bein’ busy.”
“Thanks, Clark,” Marty said and kissed him good-bye as he rose.
“I’ll be gittin’ back to the barn,” he said, brushing her cheek with his hand. “Ya can sit here till dinnertime iffen ya want.”
Yes, Clark is an unchanging part of my life, Marty thought as she watched his tall figure disappear from sight. “Thank ya, Lord,” she whispered.
Eventually Marty lifted herself from the grassy bank and headed back toward the bright sunlight and the house. She looked about her as she walked, understanding better the comments she had been hearing from one person or another ever since they had arrived home. The land needed rain. The fields needed rain. The streams needed rain. Marty’s eyes looked out across the neighboring pasture. The grass was short and beginning to turn brown. After coming from the arid West, even these parched meadows looked green. But Marty’s memory served to remind her that things should be much greener than this in the middle of June. She looked up, but the sun shone with a dazzling light out of a cloudless sky. Then Marty looked toward the horizon. No clouds appeared anywhere over the distant hills. There was no sign of rain in the immediate future.
Marty crossed to the barn and reached a hand over the corral fence to stroke the neck of the big bay. Its teammate sauntered over for her share of the attention, and Marty patted her on the neck, too. She snorted at Marty’s outstretched hand, annoyed that it held no piece of apple or lump of sugar, and walked off—heading for the shade to escape the fierceness of the sun.
Marty, too, walked on, past the chicken coop. The hens squawked and squabbled and fought over the watering trough. A big rooster strutted across the enclosure and crowed his challenge to the smaller male members of the flock. Marty noticed a number of hens with good-sized chicks scurrying about them. Ellie had cared well for the flock. There would be a fine supply of chicken for the fall and winter.
Marty slowed as she came to the little log house she had called home for so many years. She still felt nostalgic as she looked at the fluffy curtains blowing in the open kitchen window. Kate was out back hanging some wash on the line. Marty called a good morning, and Kate waved in return.
“I’m almost done. Can ya stop fer coffee?” her daughter-in-law invited.
Marty could and did. She was anxious to see the home that Kate and Clare had made for themselves in the little log house. She followed Kate through the entry and into the tidy kitchen. There had been some changes at Kate’s hand—changes for the better, Marty reflected—but much of the cozy room was just as Marty remembered it.
Kate poured the water into the kettle for coffee and measured the grounds. “I was hopin’ you’d have time to drop by today. I was achin’ to show ya our home. Isn’t it just perfect?”
Marty agreed with a smile. That’s how she had always felt about this little home.
After Kate had placed the water on to boil, she offered Marty a tour, and Marty was quick to accept. They entered the family living area, and Marty looked from the fireplace to the bookshelf—familiar things—to the couch and two armchairs, the small table and the grandfather clock—all unfamiliar things. The rugs on the floor and the curtains at the window were new, as well.
They moved through the door to the room that had been Marty’s bedroom, the one she had first shared with the young Missie and later with baby Clare and then with her husband Clark. Marty stopped for a moment to remember that first year with Clark and his wonderful patience with her, his gentle caring, which had broken through the walls she had built around her broken heart.
Marty looked about her at Kate’s bed covered in a deep, down-filled quilt. The chest against the wall held more drawers than the chest Marty had used. There was a comfortable chair beneath the window, with a cozy cushion embroidered in butterflies. A cedar-lined chest stood in the corner. Marty openly admired the room and Kate looked pleased.
They moved on then to a simply furnished spare bedroom. It contained only a bed, a chair, and a small table with a lamp on it. It was clean and airy, and Marty was sure a guest could feel quite comfortable and at home there.
With a bit of a flush to her cheeks, Kate led her to the next room. A small workbench and a few tools lay scattered about, and Marty looked at several pieces of turned wood stacked neatly in a corner.
“Clare makin’ somethin’?” she asked, and Kate flushed a bit deeper.
“A crib,” she said. “We still aren’t quite sure yet if we’ll be needin’ it, but we’re hopin’. I scolded Clare last night fer speakin’ up when we aren’t really sure yet ourselves, but he’s just so excited, an’ iffen it’s true an’ we really are, then—well, we want our two mas to be the first to know. Clare promised I could drive on over to see my ma this afternoon.”
Marty put her arms around Kate and gave her a quick hug. “I’m so happy fer ya—fer ya both. I hope with all my heart thet yer right.”
“Me too,” sighed Kate. “Clare would be so happy. He’s been waitin’ an’ waitin’.”
“But ya haven’t even been married a year yet,” Marty reminded her.
“A year is a long time when yer waitin’ fer somethin’ ya want so badly,” Kate said in frustration and then laughed at herself.
Marty laughed with her.
“Well, I guess it really hasn’t been so long,” Kate went on, “but it has sure seemed long to Clare an’ me.”
They returned to the kitchen to enjoy their coffee, and Marty listened as Kate talked about their plans for the coming baby—if one was really on the way. As Marty left Kate’s kitchen to return to her own, she prayed that Kate was right and that their dream would soon be fulfilled.
Ellie looked up from kneading some bread dough as Marty entered. Marty felt a bit chagrined when she realized what her daughter was doing.
“Oh, Ellie,” she said, “I should be doin’ thet instead of wanderin’ about like a thoughtless schoolgirl.”
“Look, Ma, I’ve been doin’ this fer a long time now.”
“I know—an’ it’s time ya had a break. Here I am back again, an’ ya still have to do all the work.”
Ellie smiled. “The work’s not hurtin’ me none. Do ya feel a little better now thet you’ve seen everythin’ is as it should be?”
“Guess I do. Not thet I doubted it would be. . . . It’s just thet I wanted to see iffen my memory served me accurately or if I’d built it all up to some fairy-tale dream.”
“An’?”
“It’s just as I remembered it. My memory played no tricks on me.”
“Good,” said Ellie as she continued to knead the bread dough.
“Had coffee with Kate,” Marty went on.
“I saw ya go in.”
“She has made Clare a nice little hom
e. They do seem happy.”
“She’s been a perfect wife for Clare. Iffen she isn’t in agreement with everythin’ he does, I never hear about it. Kate’s a dear.”
Marty smiled. “It means everythin’ to a mother to hear thet her children are happily married to mates who love ’em just the way they are.”
Ellie nodded and kept up her rhythm with the bread. “You’ll like Arnie’s girl, too,” she said. “Arnie’s a lucky guy.”
“Arnie came in to see me last night and said he’d tell me all ’bout her as soon as we find some talkin’ time.”
“Then I won’t spill any of his secrets,” assured Ellie as she efficiently placed the kneaded dough in the greased pan together with the rest of the batch. She covered it all with a white cloth and set it near the stove on a tall table built for the purpose.
“I think I’ll go on up and unpack an’ care fer the things from the trip,” Marty said. “I was just too tired to do anythin’ with ’em last night.”
“Ya still look a mite tired,” observed Ellie. “I think this has all been a heap harder on ya than ya will ever admit.”
“I’m fine,” argued Marty. “In a day or two, after I catch up on a bit of sleep, I’ll be right as rain.”
Ellie looked out at the brightness of the day. “Speakin’ of rain,” she said, frowning, “we sure are in need of some. I’ve already been totin’ water fer the garden, an’ it needs it again. We planted far too big a garden to be waterin’ it by the pailful.”
“It sure is lookin’ fine right now,” Marty encouraged. “But yer right, it does need rain.”
Ellie must have read Marty’s mind as she glanced at the clock. “Ya go on with yer unpackin’,” she urged. “I’ll look after gittin’ dinner on.”
Marty thanked her and went on up to her room. As she climbed the stairs, she had to admit to herself that she was tired. Why, after dinner she might do an unheard of thing and lie down for a little nap. She wondered at Clark’s vigor. He must be just as tired as I am, but he seems to keep goin’ with no problem, she chided herself lightly. Marty then excused herself with the promise that after a day or two of adjusting, she would be her old self again.
