by Janette Oke
“He was sent to care fer the LaHaye farm, not to cut the Davis’ logs. Guess he feels a bit bad ’bout how things been goin’, thet’s all. I like a fella who looks after his own responsibility.”
Marty still frowned but turned back to the plates. “I’m not arguin’ thet,” she said. Then she continued, “But it was so nice havin’ ’im round, ’specially with Arnie an’ Luke both leavin’. It was like havin’ another son—an’ it was gonna be ’specially nice fer Ellie to still have a big brother.”
Ellie swung around, her eyes large and tear filled. “Mama, please,” she begged, and then she was crying in earnest.
“What—?” began Marty, her utter bewilderment evident in tone and expression as she started toward her daughter.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” stammered Ellie, backing away. “I didn’t mean . . . I never meant . . .” She brushed roughly at her tears with a corner of her apron. “I don’t need . . . I don’t need another big brother.” And saying the words, Ellie almost ran from the kitchen.
Marty’s eyes were filled with concern. “I’m worried ’bout her, Clark,” she said, slowly lowering her round body to a kitchen chair. “I’ve never seen Ellie with all the sparkle gone from her so. I just never dreamed it would be so hard fer her to say good-bye to both Arnie and Luke.”
Clark had no explanation.
Sixteen
Secrets
In the days that followed, Marty kept a close eye on Ellie. She still looked pale and seemed listless, but she attacked each of her many household duties with the same determination and energy she’d had before. There just didn’t seem to be the joy that had previously marked her character. Marty was hoping it would return when Ellie got accustomed to being the only child left at home.
Ellie seemed to yearn to be outside. It appeared to Marty that she used every excuse possible to leave the confines of the kitchen. She was always taking food and water to the chickens. She even insisted on hauling water from the outside well—a chore Clark had never expected of his womenfolk. Mostly, though, she spent time with the young pup. The dog was of training age now, and Ellie seemed to get what little pleasure was left to her in teaching him the basics in obedience.
Whenever Marty inquired about how things were going with the dog training, Ellie’s answers contained a measure of enthusiasm. Marty felt these were the only times that the heaviness lifted for Ellie—her times with that small dog. Maybe even an animal could make one forget just how much one missed an individual, Marty concluded. It must be Arnie thet Ellie misses so much, she continued, because I didn’t notice this ’bout her ’fore Christmas, and Luke was gone then, too. Marty hoped for a chance to talk to Arnie. Perhaps he could just pop in a bit oftener and say a few words to his sister. That might help her in her adjustment period.
They saw very little of Lane. He seemed to make out fine as a bachelor. Marty heard via the country grapevine that many of the neighbors—especially those with marriageable daughters—were inviting him in for meals. The only time the Davises saw Lane was at the Sunday services, and then it seemed he always had somewhere else to go. Marty did notice, though, that he was looking a bit thinner than when he had first come to their area.
“I wonder iffen Lane is missin’ his West?” she said to Clark one night as they sat before the fire, Clark with a book and Marty with some sewing.
Clark lifted his head.
“Why do ya think thet?” he asked.
“Well, he don’t seem as jolly—an’ he looks to be losin’ some weight. An’ . . . an’ we never see him anymore,” she finished lamely.
“The fact thet we don’t see ’im anymore could prove he feels more at home here—not less,” Clark responded. “From what I’m hearin’, he’s gittin’ round real good.”
“Well, he still don’t look happy to me,” insisted Marty.
“I would love to argue with ya,” said Clark slowly, “but I been thinkin’ the same thoughts. Iffen it’s just thet he’s anxious to git on home, thet will soon care fer itself. I hear the LaHayes will be back in a couple weeks or so. Thet won’t be long fer ’im to wait.”
There was a soft stirring as Ellie quietly left the room. Marty could hear her in the kitchen. By the sounds that came to her, Marty knew Ellie was lighting a lantern and putting on outside wraps.
“Where ya goin’, dear?” Marty called. “It’s cold out tonight.”
“Just gonna go check on Lady an’ Ro—Rex.”
“I made sure they was all shut up warm an’ dry in the barn,” Clark called to Ellie. “Even gave ’em some extra milk tonight.”
If they expected Ellie to sigh with relief and return her coat to its peg, they were disappointed. “Still gonna go out an’ see ’em,” she answered, and the door opened and closed.
“She sure is powerful concerned ’bout those dogs of hers,” Marty said to Clark. “’Magine goin’ out this time of night just to check on ’em.”
Clark picked up the book he had laid in his lap, but his eyes didn’t return immediately to the open page. Instead, he sat thinking, the frown lightly creasing his forehead. Something was amiss here, but as yet Clark wasn’t sure just what it was.
Ellie walked quickly to the barn, her swinging lantern making streaks of light and shadows on the snow-covered farmyard. Her heart was heavy, and she felt the tears stinging her eyelids. The truth was, she had learned to love Lane. Maybe it had been unwise, but it had been impossible for her to stop herself. She was sure he had cared for her, too. She could feel it in the way he looked at her, the unspoken and the spoken messages he had passed to her. And the locket? A man like Lane would mean a gift like that as a promise of his love—and Lane would not hold love lightly. They could have been so happy together—if only . . .
But what was the use of if onlys? Her mother needed her. Not just for now before the baby came but in the future, too. Marty had suffered as each of her children moved away from the family home. First, it had been Missie, and she had gone so very far away. When she had left, Marty had not even been sure she would ever see her again, would ever hold the children that would bless her home, or sit in her kitchen sharing thoughts and feelings along with cups of tea. Then Clae had gone and taken with her one grandchild and a well-loved son-in-law. Now Clae had another baby, one Marty had yet to see. Ellie knew Marty ached to see Clae and Joe and the little ones. Then Clare had married and moved out on his own. True, he was close by, and Marty could share in his life in lots of ways. Why, Marty was as anxious for that new baby of Clare and Kate’s as they were themselves. Ellie checked her thoughts. Well, not quite, she corrected herself and even managed a wobbly smile. Nobody could be quite as excited at the prospect of a new baby as Clare and Kate were.
Ellie’s thoughts continued with her brother Luke’s leaving. Her mama’s baby. At least for so many, many years, Luke was the baby, though his time with that position was quickly coming to an end. Ellie had seen just how hard it was for Marty to let Luke go. And close behind Luke’s leaving was the marriage of Arnie. And Arnie was always so anxious to get home to his Anne that he scarcely had time for even a hello anymore. Ellie loved Arnie and was touched by his love for his Anne. When—or if—Ellie ever had the joy of being someone’s wife, she hoped someone would feel the same way about her.
Again Ellie’s thoughts turned to Lane, and the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. She loved him. Oh, how she loved him! How proud she would be to be the wife of such a man. But she couldn’t; she just couldn’t. It would be more than she could ever bring upon her mother. To ask her to lose another daughter to the West would be too much. Ellie would never do such a thing.
She fumbled with the latch to the barn door and heard excited yelps. Already the dogs were ready to greet her. She let herself in and carefully hung the lantern on the hook by the door before allowing herself to respond to their wild greeting.
“Oh, Rex,” she sobbed, taking the nearly grown Rex into her arms and pulling him close. The dog seemed to sense that
something was troubling her, and instead of his usual frenzied play, he crowded up against her, softly licking her tear-wet cheek. A low whine escaped him.
“Oh, Rex,” she said again, the tears running more freely. “He’s soon goin’ back. He’s goin’ back west, an’ I may never see ’im again. Never.” Ellie buried her head against the fur of the only friend with whom she felt she could share her burden and cried out all her sorrow.
Lane, too, was in a state of torment. He had reached home from the wood cutting, done the chores, and spent a miserable evening pacing the floor. Finally he went to bed, but his troubled mind would not let him sleep. Quickly the days were passing by. It would not be long until it was time for him to return to Willie’s ranch. Once back west, he would be many miles and many days away from Ellie. How could he stand never to see her again? Oh, if only he had never met her, then he would be unaware of how much he had missed—how much he loved her. She was the kind of woman he had always dreamed of sharing his life with. Her gentle spirit, the sparkle in her eye, her understanding . . .
He had felt that they were so right for each other, and he had been foolish enough to hope and dream that she felt that way, too. She does, I’m sure she does, Lane argued with himself. I’m sure she could love me if only . . . There it was again. The situation did not change in spite of Lane’s yearning. It would be unfair to even ask Ellie to go west, knowing that she felt it would bring such pain to Marty. No, it would be wrong. For Ellie, being as sensitive as she was, could not know true happiness herself if she knew her mother was suffering. It was unthinkable. Even Lane, with his aching heart, knew that.
But wait, Lane checked himself. Who says I have to go back west? He could stay right where he was. He could farm or get a job in town. Ellie would not need to leave her mother. That was it! They would stay, and he would be free to express to Ellie his great love and his desire to share the rest of his life with her.
For a moment Lane felt wild with excitement. He could hardly wait to talk with Ellie. If it hadn’t been so late at night, he would have gone to her immediately. What would the Davises think if he came riding madly into the farmyard at midnight, crying out that he had solved the problem? No, he must wait. But could he wait? Yes—wait, he must. He would go see Ellie at the first opportunity. Saturday night. In fact, he would beg off log cutting early so he could hurry through the chores. A feeling of deep relief passed through him, so thankful was he to have found a way through the muddle. “Thank ya, God,” he whispered. “Thank ya fer makin’ a way.” And Lane turned over and slept well for the first time since Christmas.
Seventeen
Letters
The long days of a snowbound January dragged slowly by. Marty had finished her preparations for the baby and now was impatient for it to arrive. On January the twelfth, she stood and stared at the calendar on the wall. Surely the month must be further along than this, she told herself. But no. It was right there in black and white. It was truly just January the twelfth. Marty moved about restlessly, wondering what to do with herself. She knew there were little jobs about the house she could busy herself doing, but nothing caught her interest or seemed to be worth the effort. She paced back to the window and stood looking out at the softly falling snow. Would it never quit snowing? It seemed to Marty that she had been looking at mounds of snow for months and months. She turned from the window with a sigh and stared at the calendar again. How many more weeks must they—?
Ellie must have been watching Marty’s restlessness for a while. She said, “Why don’t ya go an’ have coffee with Kate? She’s prob’ly as restless as you are.”
Marty turned to Ellie in surprise. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m a case, ain’t I? I never remember bein’ so impatient with any of the rest of ya.”
“Ya were too busy lookin’ after the others an’ the house an’ all the laundry an’ the feedin’ of—”
Marty’s cheery laugh broke into Ellie’s comments, and Marty thought Ellie looked up at her with relief.
“It’s good to hear you laugh, Mama,” she said. “We haven’t had enough of it round here lately.”
“Yer right,” Marty said. “I was too busy. Havin’ you here has made a lazy complainer outta me.”
Ellie protested, but Marty went on. “Boy, ya must find me hard to live with. Feelin’ sorry fer myself, when I’ve got so much to be thankful fer. But yer right. I will go see Kate. Maybe she is impatient, too, though she’s had more sense ’bout all of this, I’m a thinkin’. She ’least has enough sense to stay busy.”
Marty began to draw her shawl about her for the short walk across the yard. “Been worryin’ ’bout Ma, too. Wonder how she’s doin’. Haven’t seen her fer a while, an’ I just know she is missin’ Ben somethin’ fierce. Wish I could go on over an’ see her, but yer pa will never let me—not in this weather.”
Ellie looked up from the recipes she was paging through. “S’pose we could go on over an’ git Ma an’ bring her here,” she suggested.
Marty was thrilled with the idea. “We could, couldn’t we? Oh, would ya? I mean tomorra, could ya? Ya could leave right after breakfast an’ Ma could stay on fer lunch. I’d do up the dishes and the mornin’ cleanin’ an’ ya could—”
“All right,” said Ellie with a smile. “Iffen it means thet much to ya, I’ll go in the mornin’.”
“Thank ya,” said Marty.
“I’ll talk to Pa as soon as he gets home from town,” Ellie promised.
“Thank ya,” said Marty again. And she turned with a smile to go see her Kate.
Kate was as glad to see Marty as Marty was to get out.
“Oh, I was hopin’ fer some distraction!” Kate cried. “I was thinkin’ of comin’ up to see you, but Clare made me promise not to go out alone with it so slippery underfoot.”
Marty smiled, remembering the many times when Clark had warned her of the same thing.
“I was very careful,” she said, then confided, “but I’ve never had a lick of trouble—not with any of the babies thet I carried.”
Even before Kate stirred the fire or put on the kettle, she urged Marty to “come see the baby’s room.”
“It’s all done now,” she explained as they moved to the door of the bedroom. “Oh, I just love it. Our baby just has no way of knowin’ how very special he is. Iffen he knew how much his ma and pa had fussed over ’im . . .” Kate left her sentence dangling and laughed at their foolishness.
They entered the room, and Marty gasped. “Oh, it’s lovely.”
She crossed to the new crib that Clare had put so many hours on and ran a hand lovingly over the smoothly polished wood.
“He did a fine job on this, Kate,” she said and felt that her words were inadequate. Kate must have thought so, too.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she enthused. “I had no idea Clare was so clever with his hands. I’ve never seen me a nicer baby’s bed. An’ look—he made a little chest to match it!”
Marty looked about the room—at the frilly curtains, the green walls, the handmade quilts, the pillows, the chest, the carefully chosen pictures, and especially the hand-turned bed—and her eyes shone almost as brightly as did Kate’s.
“An’ look,” said Kate as she pulled open drawer after drawer to reveal tiny baby garments. “We are all ready now. Everythin’s here . . . now we just wait.”
“Wait,” echoed Marty. “Sometimes it seems so long. I hope we can make it . . . both of us.”
Kate reached to give her a squeeze, and the two women chuckled as they hugged over the two unborn babies.
“We’ll make it,” Kate promised. “We’ll make it, ’cause it is so much worth waitin’ fer. Oh, Mama, it’s gonna be so much fun to have a baby of our own. We have been so happy, but this . . . this is gonna be . . . be . . . near to heaven.”
Marty smiled. She remembered so well the excitement of waiting for the arrival of her first child. She had anticipated every one of them—that was true—but there was just no excitement like
the arrival of the first one. She nodded to Kate, warm memories making her eyes mist over.
“Best we go out there an’ have thet tea,” she said, “’fore I git all emotional an’ weepy.”
Kate led the way back to the kitchen. They lingered over their cups. Marty told Kate about Ellie’s proposal to pick up Ma Graham for a day’s visit. “It’s been so long,” she said, her voice full of feeling, “an’ I’ve been so worried ’bout her.”
Kate agreed that it would be good for both of them to have a long chat. “But I’ve been thinkin’ thet Ellie needs a break, too,” Kate continued. “She has been lookin’ rather peaked lately, an’ she just seems . . . well . . . different.”
“You’ve noticed it, too, huh?”
Kate nodded in agreement.
“Clark an’ me’s been talkin’ ’bout it,” Marty said. “She needs to git out more, thet’s what I’m thinkin’, but she doesn’t really seem to want to, even when she has a chance.”
“What chance?” asked Kate.
“Well, I remembered thet the young people were talkin’ ’bout a skatin’ party, an’ I suggested thet Ellie go, but she wanted no part of it.”
“But I can understand Ellie not wantin’ to go alone.”
“Oh, she wouldn’t have gone alone. I asked Lane to take her.”
“You asked Lane?” Kate’s shock was evident.
“An’ he said he’d be glad to,” Marty assured her. “But Ellie said she didn’t want to go.”
“What else did Ellie say?” Kate asked thoughtfully.
“She said they were all ‘kids.’”
“Maybe she just didn’t want to go with Lane.”
“I don’t think so,” Marty said slowly. “Ellie seemed to like Lane just fine. They was always laughin’ an’ talkin’ together. Why, he helped her with the dishes, an’ she gave him thet favorite dog she fusses over so. It would have been so nice fer Ellie iffen Lane had been round more, with Arnie an’ Luke both gone, but he’s not been back lately, an’ Ellie didn’t want to go to the party, an’—”
