by Janette Oke
So in the sorrow that Marty shared with her son and daughter-in-law, there was also mixed in a good deal of guilt. Could they see it? Did they, too, feel the circumstances were unjust, that she was unworthy to be bearing another child? True, when Kate had been in pain and her baby in danger, Marty had been willing to exchange her baby’s life for the life of Kate’s baby if the Lord would have accepted such a bargain. Marty was beginning to understand how very difficult it would have been for her actually to go through with such an agreement. She loved the small life within her more than she had thought possible. Yet poor, poor Kate! She had loved her baby, too. Marty wondered if Kate and Clare would be bitter toward her and the coming baby. She did not want to face them. And in the days following the death of their infant and the gathering for the burial at the church, Marty found little excuses to keep from close contact with the young couple. What could she say? How did they feel about her? About Clare’s new little brother or sister soon to make an appearance?
Ellie, fortunately, had been to see Kate daily. She helped her with her housework until Kate was able once again to take over for herself. Even then Ellie went, dropping in for a chat or a cup of tea. Marty knew she must go, as well, but she begged “foul weather” and stayed close to her fire.
It was Nandry who unexpectedly brought Marty to her senses. Nandry came to call in spite of the bad weather. She had left all the children at home with Josh. Marty knew, as soon as she saw her daughter drive into the yard, that something deeper than the need for companionship had driven Nandry out alone and on such a day.
Marty was still concerned about Nandry. Something was bothering the girl—had been ever since they’d come home. Nandry never had said anything about it, but Marty knew it was there. Marty had the feeling it was somehow connected with Clark—Clark and his lost leg. But surely enough time had passed by now for Nandry to get used to the sight and the idea of Clark’s need for a crutch.
Marty held the door for Nandry now and lovingly welcomed her in. Her first explanation for the visit sounded like Nandry simply had taken a notion to get out of the house for a few hours. Her small brood was driving her beside herself, she maintained. Marty nodded, remembering well the feeling.
Nandry inquired about Kate, and Marty assured her that from all reports she seemed to be doing fine, that Ellie was presently with her.
Marty busied herself putting on the coffeepot and cutting some slices of Ellie’s loaf cake. Nandry talked easily of everyday things. She wanted one of Ellie’s recipes for pumpkin bread. Andy had fallen and bitten his tongue. It hadn’t been a bad cut, but it had bled profusely, and Mary had screamed in fright, thinking Andrew would surely bleed to death. Baby Jane had fallen down a few steps; she wasn’t hurt badly, but it did frighten them all. Tina had come home from school with a gold ribbon as the best speller in the class; Josh was so proud of her. He had never been good at spelling.
Nandry, unusually talkative, continued to chat until Marty poured the coffee and settled down at the table with her. Then, with a quickness Marty found hard to follow, she changed from her current casual subject.
“How’s Kate takin’ it?”
Marty was taken aback. The fact was she didn’t really know how Kate was taking it. Oh, outwardly Kate seemed to be handling it fine, according to Ellie. But Marty had no way of knowing how Kate was feeling deep inside. She couldn’t admit that to Nandry, so she replied defensively, “She feels bad, of course.”
“I didn’t mean thet,” responded Nandry. “I mean, is she able to accept it?”
“Accept it?”
Nandry looked at Marty searchingly, her eyes repeating the question.
“Accept it?” said Marty again. “Well, it happened, didn’t it? One has to accept it—iffen ya want to or not.”
“Ma,” said Nandry, “don’t beat round the bush. Ya know what I’m meanin’.”
“No,” said Marty slowly, “I’m ’fraid I don’t.”
“Does Kate feel God has a right—thet He was fair to do what He done?”
“God?” said Marty in disbelief. Was Nandry actually asking what it seemed like she was asking?
“Ma, we know thet God could have saved thet there baby fer Clare an’ Kate iffen He had wanted to—just like He could have saved Pa’s leg iffen He had put himself out some.”
There. It was out. Pain showed in Nandry’s eyes—pain and anger. Marty looked at the girl, shock and fear sweeping through her and making her feel heartsick.
“It’s true,” continued Nandry, her tone reckless. “It’s true, and one might as well say it. No use just pretendin’ thet it ain’t.”
Marty reached out a hand and laid it on Nandry’s arm. She’d had no idea there was so much anger and bitterness there.
Nandry shrugged off the hand.
“But . . . but . . . it ain’t like thet,” began Marty, silently imploring the Lord to give her wisdom.
“It ain’t? Well, how is it, then? I s’pose Pa hoppin’ round on one leg is just a figment of my ’magination, huh?”
“I didn’t mean thet. I mean—well, I mean God didn’t just take Pa’s leg to be spiteful. He—”
“How d’ya know what He did an’ why?”
“At the time,” said Marty quietly, “I didn’t, an’ I fought it, too. I had to come to the place where I could honestly say, ‘Thy will be done,’ an’ God did His will, an’ good came of the sorrow.”
“Enough good to make up fer a good man losin’ his leg?”
Marty hesitated at the words spat out on the table between them. Nandry had always been particularly devoted to Clark in an unusual way. Marty had hoped Nandry had long since properly sorted out the relationship with Clark as her father.
“I think so—” began Marty hesitantly. Then, with more conviction, “I know so. Why, so many things happened to show it so. The little church was started. Dr. de la Rosa went home and made peace with his family. An’ the . . . the most important was what happened in the life of Jedd, yer first pa. He—”
But Nandry interrupted, rising from her chair with her eyes sparking angrily. “An’ what did he ever do to deserve the mercy of God? Him thet run out on us, thet left Ma to die alone while he ran off to chin-wag an’ chew tobacca with some old cronies. Are ya tellin’ me thet God would favor a man like thet over one who was upright an’ carin’ an’ lived . . . ?” But Nandry could not go on. She was weeping uncontrollably now, her shoulders shaking with every sob.
Marty rose to her feet slowly because of her cumbersome body. She was dumbstruck. What could she ever say to this angry and agonizing girl? How could she make her see that God is love? That He gives it freely whether a person “deserves” it or not? How could she ever get her to understand that bitterness and hate against her father were not in keeping with God’s plan for her life—could not bring happiness or peace or anything good to anybody? Oh, poor Nandry, to have carried such a terrible burden for such a long, long time!
Marty moved to her and took her into her arms. As Marty raised her eyes, she beheld a stricken Ellie standing in silence at the kitchen door. Marty had not heard her return, and she was sure Nandry was not aware of her presence, either. Ellie stood with a white face and parted lips as though unable to comprehend. Marty wondered how long she had been standing there and how she would respond to what she had heard from the lips of her adopted older sister.
Then Ellie took a deep breath and moved into the room. She took Nandry’s hand and gently led her back to her chair. Nandry sat down again, physically and emotionally spent from her outburst. Ellie passed her a hankie and Nandry blew loudly.
Ellie waited for a moment and then spoke quietly. “Nandry,” she said, “I think I know how yer feelin’. At first, when I heard ’bout Pa, I wanted to fight it, too. I blamed God . . . a little bit. I blamed God fer spoilin’ a good man. You know what I thought? I thought thet I might not be proud to walk down the street in town with Pa anymore. Can you ’magine that? Feelin’ ashamed to be seen with a man like Pa
simply because he had only one leg?” Ellie shook her head sadly, as if she felt guilty over ever having such a thought. “I always thought my pa ’bout perfect, an’ I was ’fraid I wouldn’t see ’im as perfect anymore. It would be embarrassin’. People would stare. I looked at the other men around. ‘He’s not as good as my pa,’ I’d think, ’an’ he’s still got two legs.’ I knew it was wrong—I knew it all the time—an’ then God started talkin’ to me ’bout it. He pointed at my own life. I had pride, I had vanity; I even discovered some deceit. ‘See,’ said God, ’yer not perfect. Is yer pa ashamed to walk down the street with you? He should be, iffen it’s perfection yer wantin’.’ I knew God was right. My cripplin’ was greater and more deadly than Pa’s. Mine was to the spirit; his was only the body. I prayed an’ asked God to fergive me an’ to help me grow from the experience of Pa losin’ his leg, so the price of it might be worth somethin’ in my life—both fer my gain an’ so thet Pa could remain proud of me.
“Now yer pa, Nandry, had ’im many faults.” Ellie’s voice was gentle. “What ya have said ’bout ’im is prob’ly right. I don’t know, I didn’t know ’im. But God must have seen someone worth savin’. An’ even iffen there wasn’t anything worthy at all, God still loved ’im. An’ Pa loved ’im. Loved ’im enough to want to make sure he had thet chance ’fore he died. Pa didn’t knowingly give his leg fer yer pa. But I think he would have—iffen he had had some way of knowin’, I think he would have. Because our pa knows thet a leg is less important than a soul.
“I think thet Pa would be hurt iffen he knew the loss of his leg somehow brought bitterness to yer soul, Nandry. He wants to strengthen ya an’ help ya to grow with every experience of his life, and iffen he doesn’t do thet, then it brings him pain and disappointment—far more pain than the loss of thet leg did.”
Nandry had been listening silently to Ellie. Marty sat praying—praying that God would give Ellie the right words to minister to the need of the young woman, praying that Nandry would be able to understand and accept the words.
Suddenly Nandry began to weep again, quiet weeping now. Ellie put her arms about her and let her cry. At last Nandry lifted her head.
“Yer right,” she said. “An’ I’ve been wrong. All these years I’ve been wrong. My pa wasn’t right in what he did, but that gave me no call to do wrong, too. I’m more guilty than ’im ’cause I know better. I shoulda been prayin’ fer ’im all those years. I know Clae was. Used to make me mad at her. ‘Let ’im git what he deserves,’ I’d think. Thet was wrong—so wrong.” And Nandry dropped her face in her hands and cried harder.
“Oh, Ellie,” wept Nandry, “can God ever fergive me?”
“Iffen He couldn’t,” said Ellie, “we’d all be in trouble.”
“Ma,” wept Nandry, seeming to suddenly realize that Marty still sat nearby, “would ya pray fer me?”
Marty did. Ellie followed with another prayer, and then Nandry cried out her own pleading for forgiveness. After the prayer time, they poured fresh coffee and shared further the truths they had learned.
Finally Nandry looked at the clock and declared that Josh would wonder what had happened to her, and besides, she was anxious to talk with him about what had happened this afternoon and the lifting of her burden.
Ellie put on her coat and went with her to get her team, and Marty stayed at the table rejoicing and doing some serious thinking.
Nandry had been wrong to bundle up all of her years of bitterness. She should have been able to trust God. She had been taught ever since she had been in the Davis home that God is God in all circumstances of our lives, and He loves His children. Nothing happens to those He loves that catches Him by surprise. He is always there to see one through the difficulty and to bear each person up on wings of love. Good can follow on the path of sorrow. All things can work for good to those who love Him.
Marty knew it all. She even believed it all. So why was she sitting at her kitchen table when just across the yard was her daughter-in-law who needed her? I don’t know what to say, pleaded Marty. I just don’t know what to say. I still have my baby. And, God, you know I want my baby. Is that selfish? Can I go to Kate, with me so obviously expecting my child, when she has just lost hers? Marty wept silent tears before the Lord.
Trust Me came a quiet voice, and Marty wiped her eyes on her apron and rose from her chair. She would take Kate the new shawl she had been knitting. Perhaps something new and bright would be welcomed by her on this dreary winter day.
Marty met Ellie at the door. “I’m goin’ to see Kate fer a few minutes,” she said.
“Oh, good,” responded Ellie. “Kate’s been so lonesome fer ya. But ya know Kate. She wouldn’t think of askin’ ya to come out in the cold.”
“She’s been wantin’ me?”
“Every day she mentions ya.”
“Why didn’t ya say so?”
“Kate asked me not to. She didn’t want ya to take any chances on harmin’ yer baby. She’s countin’ on yer little one more’n ever now, Mama.”
Marty turned to hurry on out, but she did slow down and carefully place her footsteps on the path. Her eyes stung with her unshed tears. How insensitive she had been.
Kate was at her door to welcome Marty. She must have seen her coming. She ushered her into the small kitchen and steadied her while Marty slipped out of her boots. Marty noticed that Kate was still quite pale.
“How are ya, Mama?” Kate asked anxiously.
Marty felt it was she who should be asking such a question. “I’m fine, dear. An’ you?”
Kate smiled. It was a courageous smile for one who had just experienced such sorrow.
“I’m fine, too . . . now. Would ya like a cup of tea?”
“I think not.”
“Coffee, then?”
“No. Truth is, we just finished havin’ coffee with Nandry.”
“Nandry was over . . . on such a cold day?”
“Guess she felt she needed it bad enough to come.”
“I didn’t notice her come in . . . but then, Ellie an’ me was talkin’ ’bout that time.”
Marty took a chair and produced the bright blue shawl. “Brought ya somethin’,” she said. “Thought ya might be needin’ somethin’ new to look at.”
Kate smiled. “It’s lovely, Mama. I love the color . . . but ya know thet blue is my favorite color, don’t ya?”
Yes, Marty had known.
Kate held the shawl, wrapping the long tassels around and around her slim fingers.
“I shoulda been here afore,” Marty began slowly, “but . . .”
“It’s okay, Mama. Clare an’ I both know how much yer hurtin’ with us. I was just so ’fraid thet the grievin’ might cause harm to thet new brother or sister. Are ya sure yer okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Ya can still feel movement?”
“Oh yes. She’s a busy one.”
Kate smiled at the “she” and sighed with relief. “I didn’t think much ’bout it at the time, but thinkin’ back, I realize I hadn’t felt any movement fer a few days. I thought maybe my baby was just restin’ or thet I was just so used to it I didn’t notice or somethin’.”
“Ya think thet . . . ?” Marty couldn’t voice the question.
Kate answered it anyway. “Doc said our little one died two or three days ’fore . . .”
Her voice trailed off, and Marty hurried to fill the space with words. “I’m so sorry, Kate.”
Kate blinked back tears. “I’m sorry, too, Mama. But Doc also said God sometimes uses thet way to care fer a baby thet has some . . . some kind of problem. I thought of Wanda, Mama. I know Wanda loves her Rett and thet she wouldn’t give him up fer the world, but I’m . . . I’m not sure I . . . I’m not sure I could take thet, Mama. Iffen our little girl was goin’ to be . . . not well . . . not whole . . . then I thank God He took her. Am I a coward to feel thet way?”
“A coward? No, Kate. Certainly not. I . . . I think there are harder things to face in life than . . .
than death.”
“Clare an’ I talked ’bout it. At first it was so hard. We wanted our baby so much, an’ then Clare said, ‘Let’s just count the blessin’s outta all this.’ At first I couldn’t see ’em. Clare had to remind me. ‘We still have each other,’ he said. ‘An’ we are both still well an’ strong. The doctor says this isn’t likely to happen again, so we’ll be able to have more babies. We don’t have a child who is sickly, either in mind or in body. She will never suffer. She is safe in heaven, without even sufferin’ any of the pains of this earth.’ So, ya see, we do have lots to be thankful fer.”
Marty blinked back tears.
“We’ve grown through this, Mama. We’ve grown closer together. I’ve always loved Clare, but through this . . . I have learned what a wonderful, carin’, unselfish, and godly man I am married to. I not only love ’im, but I respect ’im as the spiritual leader of our home.”
Marty reached out and took the younger woman’s hand.
“An’ we’ve learned more, too, Mama. We’ve experienced firsthand that all those things we’ve been taught concernin’ God through the years are true. He is there when ya need ’im, helpin’ ya through the difficult places, easin’ yer hurt. We’ve felt the prayers of family and friends, too. Never have I felt so . . . so . . . loved and sorta protected as I have in these last difficult days.”
Marty fumbled for her handkerchief. Here she had come to minister to Kate, and instead Kate was ministering to her.
“Clare said we might go up fer supper—soon as we are invited,” Kate said with an abrupt change of subject. “So how ’bout an invitation? I’m dyin’ to step outside even fer a few minutes.” She smiled and added, “I could bring somethin’ to add to—”
