by Janette Oke
Fall had brought with it both blessings and sorrows. Marty did finally feel better. It was so good to actually be hungry again. With the satisfied hunger came added strength. Marty could help more around the house without feeling completely exhausted. It was Ellie now insisting along with Clark that she slow down and not try to tackle everything in a day.
Fall was also the time for Luke to leave. Marty dreaded it. She tried to push the thought of the approaching day to the back of her mind, but it persisted to nag at her.
Again and again she reminded herself that Luke was no longer her baby. He was a young man and well able to care for himself. She had a hard time convincing herself, and as she sewed new shirts or knit new socks for him to take with him, tears often fell upon her work.
Luke was excited about his coming adventure, and it seemed to Marty that he spent far more time with Doc Watkins poring over medical books than he spent at home with his family. The doc was quite convinced that Luke would be the star pupil among the doctors in training and made no bones about telling his eastern colleagues so. Luke was to get special attention as the older doctor’s protégé. Marty was glad there would be those who would be watching out for him, but it was still difficult to let him go.
She reminded herself often that Luke would be home with them again at Christmastime. Not only would it be Christmas and the family would be together, but it had been chosen as the time for Arnie’s wedding, as well, so Luke could be the best man. Clark had agreed to pay for his train ticket home. Marty was glad. She would be able to judge for herself if Luke was standing the pressure of the medical training, and if he wasn’t, then there surely would be some way to keep him at home.
She comforted herself with these thoughts as she worked the heel of the newly forming sock. She also faced again that it was only a matter of days until Luke and his belongings would board the stage to go meet the eastbound train.
One consolation for Marty was the fact that at the other end of the train trip, Joe and Clae and their family would be waiting. Although there was not room for Luke to be able to board with his eastern family, at least he would be able to visit them from time to time should he get lonely, Marty comforted herself. Luke had no such fears, and if Clark had, he did not voice them. He seemed to understand Marty’s feelings, though, and he was gentle and reassuring as he spoke often of the short time until Christmas would be upon them.
All of Arnie’s thoughts seemed to be taken with his Anne and the farm to which they would be moving following their wedding. The house that was located on the property needed repairing, and Arnie spent many hours with hammer in hand getting it ready. When other duties freed him, Clark, too, helped his son. On occasion, even Clare had some extra time that he used to help his brother with the task. The house soon began to shape up, and with it, Arnie’s impatience seemed to increase.
The hammers and saws had to be laid aside for the harvest. There was a good crop to be taken in, and Luke would be around for very little of the time. Clark did a fair share. He had rigged enough contraptions together to be able to operate almost any of the farm equipment with just his one leg. The boys marveled as they watched him. He could keep up with almost anyone they knew.
All too soon the day of Luke’s departure arrived. The whole family drove him into town to meet the stagecoach. Doc and his wife were there, too. Luke, near bursting with excitement, endured all kinds of good-natured teasing from his older brothers. The kind doctor had lots of last-minute advice. Marty wondered briefly if she even would get a turn at telling her son good-bye. Just before he was due to leave, he stepped over to her and hugged her close. Marty had to look up now, for her youngest was taller than she by a considerable amount.
“Ya take care, now,” Luke whispered for just the two of them. “I don’t want anythin’ to happen to thet baby brother.”
A sob caught in Marty’s throat. I’d gladly give up this baby if I could just keep you, she wanted to say. But she didn’t. Luke wouldn’t want to hear that kind of talk.
Instead she held him close and said motherly things about caring for his health and getting lots of rest. She also assured him that she would be counting the days until Christmas, and he promised in return that he would be doing the same. His luggage was tossed up onto the waiting stagecoach as the restless horses stamped and pulled on the bits. The driver called, and Marty knew she must let him go. She stepped back and attempted a smile, a rather lopsided one. Luke’s was broad in return. He let his hand touch her cheek, and then he wheeled and swung himself into the waiting stage. With a shout from the driver and a scattering of dust from the wheels, the coach jerked away. The horses were in a gallop before the driver had firmly settled himself. The lump stayed in Marty’s throat, but she refused to allow herself to cry. There would be plenty of time for that later.
Why was life so full of good-byes? She looked over at Arnie. He would be the next one. And he was even more excited about the prospect than Luke had been. Why were they always in such a hurry to leave home?
Before Marty’s thoughts could continue in this direction, Ellie was taking her arm and moving her down the street.
“Now you an’ me are gonna do some shoppin’,” she was saying, “an’ I’m not gonna be put off any longer.”
Marty nodded numbly. It was time. With Luke gone, she would need some kind of sewing to keep her hands busy. Besides, she was beginning to show—just a bit. She supposed that if people were going to talk, they would already be at it. She might as well settle their minds once and for all.
She allowed Ellie to lead her into the general store and over to the yard goods.
Little one, she apologized to the child she carried, if you’re really there—and I still have a hard time accepting the fact—you’ll have to forgive me some. I just can’t get excited about you—I didn’t plan for you, and—But Marty got no further, for a strange thing happened. With a suddenness that startled even her, the baby within answered with a fluttery movement. It was unmistakable, and with the movement came the clear knowledge that Marty did indeed carry within her another life. At that same instant, a love for the unborn child filled her being. Whoever this baby turned out to be, he or she was special, individual, and hers—hers and Clark’s. And even though she hadn’t planned it, the fact that this baby was growing, warm and safe, inside her body and would one day snuggle in her arms, impressed itself upon her.
“I hope thet yer a girl,” she whispered under her breath as a tear slowly formed in her eyes.
“What’d ya say?” asked Ellie, busy laying out soft flannels and cottons for selection.
“Oh, nothin’,” answered Marty, quickly disposing of the telltale tears. “Nothin’ much. I’m just on yer side, thet’s all. I hope it’s a girl, too.”
Eight
A Visit With Ma
Marty decided she would make a call on Ma Graham. Before word started to circulate throughout the community that the Davises were to be parents again, Marty wanted to tell Ma herself. She asked Clark for the team and bundled up snugly against the brisk fall breeze.
Even before she had the team tied at the Grahams’ hitching rail, Ma was on her way across the yard, arms outstretched in welcome.
“How did ya know I’ve been achin’ fer a good visit?” Ma called. “We haven’t had us one since just after ya got home.”
“I know,” responded Marty. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“How ya been?” Ma asked, arm around Marty’s waist on the way to the house.
“Fine—just fine.”
Ma apparently let the answer go and ushered Marty into her kitchen, hanging up her coat on a peg by the door.
“Sit ya down,” she said, “an’ I’ll put on the pot. Ya carin’ fer coffee or tea?”
“Tea, I’m thinkin’.”
Ma put another stick of wood in the firebox of the big kitchen stove and shoved forward the kettle. Then she joined Marty at the table.
“Yer lookin’ better. Ya had me worried the
re fer a while. Every time I saw ya at church, I’d say to Ben, ‘Somethin’ ain’t quite right ’bout Marty.’”
“Ya said thet?”
Ma nodded.
“My,” said Marty. “I didn’t have me any idea how many folks I had a worryin’. My family was frettin’, too.”
“But yer lookin’ better.”
“Feelin’ much better, too.” Marty smiled.
“Seen the doc?”
“I did, as a matter of fact.”
“He able to tell ya what was wrong?”
Marty nodded in agreement.
“An’ he was able to give ya somethin’ to get ya over—?”
“Not exactly,” Marty put in.
Ma’s face again showed concern. “But ya said yer feelin’ better.”
“Oh, I am,” Marty quickly affirmed.
Ma looked puzzled.
“Ya see,” said Marty, “all thet is . . . I mean, the only reason I wasn’t feelin’ my best is thet . . . I’m . . . I’m in the family way.”
Ma’s eyes grew large and then her face grew into a broad smile. “Well, I’ll be” was what she said. “Now, why in the world didn’t I guess thet?” She chuckled and reached across the table for Marty’s hand.
“Guess, like me, ya wasn’t really expectin’ it. I couldn’t even believe it myself fer a long time.”
“Well, I never,” said Ma again, shaking her head with another chuckle.
“I’m showin’,” said Marty and stood to her feet so that Ma could see for herself.
“Well, I declare,” said Ma. “Ya are, yes, ya are.”
Now Marty began to laugh and Ma joined her.
“Isn’t thet somethin’?” asked Marty. “A woman of my age—an’ a grandma?”
“Ya ain’t so old. I had me another young’un after I was older’n you.”
Marty quickly nodded.
The teakettle began to steam and Ma pulled herself up to go and prepare the tea.
“An’ what does yer family think ’bout it?” she asked over her shoulder as she cut some gingerbread.
Marty shook her head. “Would ya believe thet every one of ’em thinks it’s just fine?”
“Clark?” Ma asked as she rejoined her guest at the table.
“I’m afraid he has a hard time keepin’ himself from bein’ downright proud. He only holds hisself in check fer my sake.”
Ma smiled, poured the tea, and passed Marty her cup.
“Well, thet sure beats fussin’ ’bout it.”
Marty knew that Ma was right.
“An’ you?” asked Ma, passing Marty the gingerbread.
Marty was slow to answer. “Well, me,” she said, “thet’s a different story. I wasn’t all thet happy ’bout the idea.”
“Embarrassed?”
“Embarrassed! Scared! Worried!”
“Bein’ sick like had ya scared?”
“Not really. I hadn’t even figured out what was wrong with me fer a long time. When I did reckon it might be this, I was scared and worried ’bout what folks would think, not ’bout iffen I could make it okay.”
“I know the feelin’,” said Ma. “I felt thet way with my last one. Then I just got busy an’ told myself thet it weren’t nobody else’s business anyway.”
Marty laughed. “People make it their business,” she said. But, to her amazement, she found she really didn’t care anymore.
“Ya feelin’ better ’bout it now?”
Marty looked into the teacup before her and watched the wispy steam rise upward. “Yeah,” she said at length, raising her eyes to Ma’s. “I feel better ’bout it now. After Luke left, there was a big emptiness, and then . . . well, Ellie insisted on shoppin’ in town since we was already there. She’s been pesterin’ me ’bout gittin’ some garments ready fer this here new one—an’ a strange thing happened. It was the first time I felt movement. An’ suddenly . . . well, I just felt a real love, all through me, fer this little stranger. I wanted the baby, Ma. I can’t really explain it—I just knew I loved an’ wanted this baby.”
Ma nodded her understanding. “I know what yer meanin’,” she said. “It’s powerful hard to keep fightin’ it once ya feel ’im really there.”
The two women sat silently for a few moments, each deep in her own thoughts.
Finally Ma broke the silence. “Must have been awfully hard to let Luke go.”
“It was. It really was. An’ he was so excited ’bout it thet he could hardly contain hisself. . . . Might have been easier iffen he’d clung to me just a bit,” Marty finished, her voice low.
Ma smiled. “Might have made ya feel better fer a minute, but it woulda made ya feel worse in the long run.”
“I s’pose. I mighta cried all night iffen I’d felt he was hurtin’, too.”
“Seems they grow up too fast. Ya just git yer heart set on ’em, an’ they’re gone.”
“It’s Ellie thet frightens me.”
“Meanin’?”
“Just don’t know how I’m gonna stand it when it’s Ellie’s turn to go. She has been so good, Ma. Takin’ over the runnin’ of the house an’ coaxin’ me on. I just don’t know how I’ll ever manage without her.”
“Ellie got a beau?”
“Not yet—but it’ll come.”
“I know what yer meanin’. Girl like Ellie can’t hold off the young fellers fer long.”
“She’s never really paid thet much attention to the young men who’ve hung around, but one of these days . . .”
“I must confess,” said Ma, “I been lookin’ round me at church tryin’ to sort out just which of the neighborhood fellers is good enough fer Ellie.”
Marty nodded and admitted that she had been doing the same thing.
Then she prompted Ma, “An’ . . . ?”
“Ain’t spotted ’im yet,” answered Ma frankly. “Somehow it seems Ellie should have someone special like.”
“Guess she’ll think he’s special when the time comes.”
Ma reached for Marty’s cup to refill it. “I know I fought it some when my young’uns were gittin’ theirselves all matched up with their mates. Kinda glad it’s all over now an’ settled. They all chose ones I can be proud of, too. Kinda a good feelin’ to know it’s cared fer. They did a good job of it, too. I can sorta just sit back an’ relax—an’ enjoy the grandchildren.”
“But yer grandkids are all nearby. Me, I’ve already got ’em scattered from the East to the West. I just don’t think I could bear it iffen any more of ’em move so far away from home.”
“Must be hard. I’d sure miss mine if they weren’t here.”
“Nathan an’ Josiah are such sweethearts. An’ there’s the new little Melissa now. Who knows when I’ll see her? An’ Clae with her two little ones—we haven’t seen her baby yet, either. Oh, I wish she could come home—even fer a short visit. It’s hard, Ma. Hard to have them scatter. I miss them all so much.”
Ma looked searchingly into Marty’s face, then brightly and promptly changed the subject.
“An’ how are Arnie’s weddin’ plans comin’ along?”
The remainder of the time together was spent in discussing the family members who were close at hand, and Marty’s spirits rose as she thought of the coming events and the happiness that was in store for each of them. And for her and Clark.
Winter settled in, and Marty was glad she had no good reason to be out as she watched the swirling snow and biting wind. Ellie was daily encouraging her on the sewing for the new baby, and it wasn’t long until Marty’s enthusiasm matched Ellie’s.
Kate dropped in often. She obviously found great pleasure in the planning and preparations for the two babies. Clare shared Kate’s eagerness, and he, too, was involved on the long winter evenings finishing the bed for the new little one who would make them truly a family.
Clark was finding it difficult to be as active as he had been in the summer and fall. The icy patches were often causing his crutch to slip, and after one or two near falls, he was content to
let his grown sons handle most of the chores. He had always been easy to have around, and Marty enjoyed being with him more often.
Daily, Marty’s love for her unborn child grew. She wondered how she could have ever not wanted it. The whole family was waiting for this baby with far more interest than they had shown for any of the others.
Most of Arnie’s time and attention were given to his upcoming wedding. His little farmhouse was ready now. Anne had even hung the curtains in the windows and scattered a few rugs on the floor. Because Anne had no mother to help her with her preparations, Marty had been pleased to piece quilts and hem dishtowels and assist in any way she could. Already she felt very close to her new daughter-in-law-to-be. She was sure that Arnie and Anne would be very happy.
And so the wintry days and evenings passed, one by one. The house was brightened by friendly chatter, much coming and going, and busy activity shared by the family. Marty felt it was one of the most pleasant times she could remember, in spite of those members who were not with them.
A welcome letter arrived from Luke, and Marty opened it eagerly and read it aloud. He assured them he was fine and enjoying his studies. He stated that Doc Watkins had certainly given him an advantage over his other classmates; he understood so much that they had never been exposed to. He was boarding with a kindly old couple who fussed over him and pampered him. They had never had children of their own, and the woman was trying to catch up on all the years of missed mothering in just a few short months, Luke wrote.
He missed the family, he said, though he really had very little time even to think about it. He was going to a nearby church and had never seen so many young people gathered together before. Most of them were very kind and friendly. He hadn’t seen Clae and her family very often. There just wasn’t time for much visiting, but he was to join them for Thanksgiving, Clae insisted. They were all fine. The new baby was really sweet, and “Esther Sue had grown like you wouldn’t believe.” She had been shy with Luke at first, but she had gotten over that quickly. Joe was enjoying his seminary classes. He wondered how the little church back home had ever put up with his lack of knowledge. He couldn’t believe how much there was to learn.
