by Janette Oke
Marty turned to the two girls, a slight frown on her face. Belinda knew her mother would not care for the word worldly in regard to her dear Melissa, and Amy Jo must have sensed it immediately, also.
“I . . . I mean . . . more . . . more knowledgeable of the world. More . . . more . . .” She faltered to a stop, grasping Belinda’s hand until her fingers hurt.
A distant train whistle drew all eyes to the track. Somewhere out there, around the curve hidden from view by poplar trees, the train was making its way, far too slowly, toward their town, their station, the platform where they all stood. And sitting no doubt sedately and newly educated all alone on one of the upholstered seats was their Melissa. A stir of excitement ran through the little cluster on the wooden planks of the platform.
“It’s comin’!” shrieked Aaron, and Thomas answered with a long hooted whistle of his own.
Just as the train rounded the bend, Belinda saw Luke take his place beside Abbie and sighed with relief. And then she forgot everything and everyone except for Melissa.
Would she have changed? How much? Belinda fervently hoped her niece hadn’t become too sophisticated . . . too worldly-wise, as Amy Jo was hinting.
And then the huge engine was rattling along beside the platform, and smoke and soot were shooting out through the afternoon air, making people step back sharply and cast anxious glances at their Sunday-best clothing.
The metal wheels squeaked and squealed as the train ground to a halt, and the loud hiss of steam spilled out into the quietness of the springtime air. The train gave one last shudder and settled into quietness.
A conductor soon appeared, methodically setting into place a wooden step and opening doors. There was movement at the windows as passengers started to shift about inside, putting on coats, gathering belongings, and preparing to exit. Others stayed seated. This was not their destination, so they had no reason to stir. They looked with little, if any, interest at the crowd on the little platform and the wine-red station behind them. There was nothing much noteworthy in this small town, much like most every other stop on the tedious western journey.
Belinda noticed one matronly lady glance carelessly out the window and then raise a gloved hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. Belinda found herself looking quickly around her. Were they all really that boring? Was the little town truly that unexciting? Perhaps so. Belinda had never known anything else with which to compare her surroundings. Briefly she visualized herself stepping up onto the iron steps and entering the passenger car, bags in hand, traveling to wherever the train might take her.
The thought was fleeting, for coming toward them, arms filled with small packages, was a more mature and even prettier Melissa.
At her glad little cry, the group surged toward her. Belinda, too, moved forward, then realized that Amy Jo still held tightly to her hand.
Melissa passed from one to another, tears wetting her cheeks as she greeted each family member with hugs and kisses.
“Oh, Belinda!” she exclaimed when it was Belinda’s turn. “Look at you! You’re so . . . so grown-up. And so pretty! Oh, I just . . .” But Melissa didn’t finish her statement. Instead, she threw her arms about Belinda, and the two girls held each other tightly.
When the whole group had expressed their welcome, the family cluster moved from the platform with Melissa’s luggage to the wagon, all talking at once.
Belinda thought back once more to the first time Melissa had been met by the family. In so many ways this was the same. And yet so very different. There was no reserve here now—not from anyone. Amy Jo, who had felt left out of the conversation the first time, made sure she was not left out now.
Questions and answers filled the air until it was difficult to sort out who was answering what. Even the two young boys fired rapid questions at their older cousin, most of them in regard to the train. How fast did it go? Had she seen the coal being shoveled into the engine? Had the train—? Melissa laughed and hugged them both with a promise to tell them all about the train trip.
“Are ya all ready to come out to the farm tonight?” Clark was asking Belinda.
“My things are all packed and waiting. We jest need to stop off at Luke’s and pick ’em up,” Belinda answered, savoring the pleasure of a whole week off to enjoy Melissa’s company.
“Ya sure you won’t need me?” Belinda asked Luke one more time. He was tucking her things in beside Melissa’s luggage when the wagon stopped at Luke’s house.
“’Course I’ll need you,” Luke responded, but at the flicker of concern in her eyes, he quickly added, “But for a few days I’ll manage—somehow. And if I really get into difficulty, I’ll send for you.”
“Promise?” asked Belinda.
“Promise,” Luke assured her.
Belinda turned to give each of the boys a quick hug and climbed up into the wagon beside Melissa and Amy Jo.
The trip to the farm was filled with more chatter—and this time it wasn’t just Melissa who talked nonstop. Belinda soon began to feel that the conversation was almost as exhausting as the surgery. She hoped she soon would have Melissa to herself for a more quiet conversation. Belinda was sure she wouldn’t really know if Melissa had changed until then, when the deeper thoughts and feelings of the two girls could be expressed.
Until that time, Belinda knew she must be patient. The rest of the family wanted to have time with Melissa, too. She belonged to all of them. When they got to the farm, there would be a family dinner to welcome back Missie’s “little girl.” After dinner there would be a large stack of dirty dishes to be dealt with. There would be no time for a girlish chat on this night.
Belinda allowed a small sigh to escape her. It was hardly audible with the grinding of the wagon wheels and the chattering of Melissa and Amy Jo, but it brought Marty’s head around as she studied the face of her youngest.
Marty didn’t ask the question, but Belinda could sense it. She smiled at her mother to reassure her.
“I’m a bit tired,” she admitted. “It’s been a very long day. Started even before sunup with the Norrises rushing their baby in with croup.”
Marty nodded in understanding. Clark overheard and turned his head.
“A week’s rest will do ya good,” he said, then turned back to guide the team. “You’ve been workin’ awful hard. Yer lookin’ a mite pale,” he threw over his shoulder.
“I’m fine—really,” insisted Belinda and suddenly felt uncomfortable as the chattering stopped and all eyes rested on her.
“One good night’s sleep and I’ll be right as rain,” she said firmly, hoping that folks would forget her and get on with the catching-up again.
Two
Girl Talk
When the last family wagon had left the yard and the last dish had been returned to the cupboard, Belinda was far too weary to suggest a chat. Melissa looked weary, too, in spite of the fact that she still was chatting away about her year out east and her excitement with being back.
Amy Jo reluctantly wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and headed for the log house across the farmyard, promising that she would be back again first thing in the morning.
Belinda tried to stifle a yawn, but it was getting hard for her to keep her eyes open.
“Ya be needin’ yer bed,” Clark commented, and Belinda could only nod in agreement.
“You must be weary, too, dear,” Marty said to Melissa, giving her granddaughter an affectionate pat.
Melissa smiled. “I am,” she admitted. “Terribly! But I’m still not sure I’ll be able to sleep. It’s just so good to be back with you all.”
Belinda watched her mother’s smile. She knew Marty had been afraid Melissa would be so taken with eastern civilization that she would almost forget her country relatives. But the girl had come back with her teacher’s certificate and her genuine love and appreciation of family still intact. Belinda was as relieved as her mother.
“Ya best git on up to bed—both of ya,” Marty said, looking from one girl to the other.
“Plenty of time to catch up on all the news.”
They slowly climbed the steps together and did not even pause to visit at the doors to their rooms, but with a promise of a “good talk” on the morrow, they hugged good-night and went to bed.
Belinda was so weary she could hardly lift her warm flannel gown over her head. Kneeling to say her evening prayers, her brain refused to function and her petition was shorter than normal. With a slight apology to God, she slipped between the soft sheets and was soon sound asleep. She did love being home in her own bed, much as she loved working with Luke and living with his family.
Belinda slept much later than usual the next morning, oblivious to the sounds of the stirring household. She was unaware that Amy Jo had already made her appearance to a “sh-h-h” from her grandmother and that the sun was well on its way into the late spring sky.
Melissa, too, had slept late, though she did awaken before Belinda. After eating one of Marty’s hearty breakfasts, she left with Amy Jo to go look at some of her recent sketches and drawings.
It was almost ten o’clock before Belinda even stirred. As she looked at the little clock on her dresser, she could scarcely believe her eyes—she couldn’t remember ever sleeping so late. A bit embarrassed, she hurriedly dressed, made her bed, and tidied her room. She couldn’t resist a peek through Melissa’s open door and could see for herself that Melissa had already left a neat room and gone out to enjoy the new day.
Belinda descended the stairs, and she felt her face flush as she heard Marty busily stirring in the kitchen. What would they think of her idling abed so long?
As Belinda came into the kitchen, Marty’s head turned from her task. “My churnin’ didn’t waken ya, did it?” she asked worriedly.
“Oh my, no,” responded Belinda. “Fact is, I guess nothin’ wakened me. I jest slept on and on.”
“Ya had a lot of catchin’ up to do,” insisted Marty. “Ya likely shoulda slept longer.”
“Mama,” said Belinda in disbelief, “look at the time. It’s ’most ten. I’ll be willin’ to bet ya never slept this late in yer whole life.”
“Nor do I have my sleep interrupted night after night,” Marty said. “At least not since ya got old ’nough to sleep through the night,” she commented with a chuckle. “Ya jest sit yerself down at the table now. I’ll git ya some breakfast.” When Belinda started to protest, Marty shushed her with a raised hand. “I don’t get many chances ta feed ya anymore, Belinda. Let me do this.”
Belinda nodded her agreement and pulled out a chair. “It has been bad recently,” she said as she sat down, “but it’s not always like this.”
“Well, ya need a few nights of good sleepin’,” Marty went on. “I’m glad ya got one to start out with.”
Belinda smiled. It was nice to have her mother fussing over her again.
“Not much breakfast,” Belinda quickly said as she noticed Marty getting out the frying pan for eggs and bacon.
“Ya need to eat,” Marty insisted, turning to look at her. “Yer gittin’ thin.”
Belinda looked down at herself. Perhaps she had lost a few pounds—but nothing much.
“It’s ’most dinnertime. If I eat a big breakfast now, I won’t want any dinner.”
Marty’s eyes rested on the clock. She finally nodded in agreement. “Well, let me fix ya some bread and butter,” she said, moving to slice some bread from the homemade loaf. Belinda noted that she sliced off two thick pieces and spread them both with butter and jam, but she did not complain when Marty put them in front of her on a plate.
“Thanks, Mama,” she said as she took a bite. “I think I’d be havin’ to let my dresses out if ya was feedin’ me all the time.” They laughed comfortably together as Marty sat back down at her butter churn and starting the handle humming.
“Where’s Melissa?” asked Belinda around another bite.
“Oh my! I promised the girls I’d let ’em know the minute ya stirred!” Marty jumped up from her chair to head for the door.
“Let them be,” Belinda waved her hand to stop her mother. She laughed softly. “As late as I’ve slept, a few more minutes won’t hurt anything. Amy Jo was most anxious to get a chance to talk to Melissa anyway. We’ll jest give them a few more minutes while I have my breakfast, and then I’ll go on over.”
Marty settled down again, this time at the table for a few quiet moments alone with Belinda.
“Ya do look a mite better this mornin’,” she observed.
“I feel better, too,” admitted Belinda.
“Ya looked awful worn out last night. Thet nursin’ be too hard on ya, I’m a thinkin’.”
“Oh no.” Belinda was quick to defend her work. “Usually we get lots of sleep. Well—anyway, enough sleep. But recently we’ve had so many emergencies—accidents and illnesses. It’s been a bad time for Luke, too. He really is far too busy. This town could use another doctor.”
“I never thought on thet,” remarked Marty, looking surprised.
“Luke says it himself,” went on Belinda. “And Abbie—well, she says it often.”
“Maybe Jackson will come back here to practice,” commented Marty. “His mama would sure like thet.”
It wasn’t the first time Belinda had thought about that possibility. Jackson had changed his mind about banking and had now completed two years of training toward becoming a doctor. Luke had mentioned Jackson’s name several times when he talked about the town needing another medical doctor. Belinda hardly knew her own mind on the issue. She did hope fervently that Jackson had not decided on a career in medicine simply because of her own interest in nursing. But she couldn’t help but wonder.
When Jackson first left their area, he had written Belinda often. Belinda enjoyed the newsy letters telling of his new experiences, the long recitals of what he was learning in his classes and from the library textbooks. But soon the letters started to become more personal than Belinda was comfortable with. She thought Jackson seemed to be taking too much for granted. As difficult as it had been for her, she wrote Jackson, telling him she felt they were unwise to keep up the distant relationship. Jackson had written back a very kind and understanding letter. Still, Belinda had some misgivings. Jackson’s words had implied quite clearly that this was “for now.”
“How much longer does Jackson have?” Marty was asking.
Belinda’s attention moved back to her mother.
“Ah . . . ah,” she stammered and then got her thoughts back in order. “Luke says he will be ready in two years, I think,” she responded.
“Can Luke wait thet long?”
“He might have no choice. It’s hard to find doctors willin’ to work in small towns.”
“Has he talked to Jackson?”
Belinda thought about that one. She wasn’t sure, though one night she had heard Abbie urging Luke to get in touch with the young man before someone else spoke to him.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but I think he may have.”
“I hope so. Fer Luke’s sake. An’ fer the sake of Abbie and the boys. Luke doesn’t see nearly enough of ’em.”
“Thet’s what worries Luke,” Belinda said thoughtfully. “He doesn’t seem to tire like I do, but he does dislike bein’ so busy. He enjoys the boys so much and says they are growing up far too fast. He’d like more time to do father-son things. Take them fishin’ and play ball and such.”
Belinda rose slowly from the table, reluctant to break off the visit with her mother but anxious to see Melissa—and Amy Jo, too. Though not too far from each other, they seemed to have few chances to really talk anymore.
“I’d better go,” she told her mother. “The girls will think I’ve gone and died in my bed.”
Marty smiled and rose to return to her churn.
“I’ll be back to help ya with dinner,” Belinda promised.
“No need,” said Marty. “I’ve got it all ready to jest put on the stove. You go ahead and enjoy your visit. The days will go fast enough.”
B
elinda knew that was true. She stacked her dishes on a corner of the cupboard and left the house.
The morning sunshine felt warm and welcome on her hair. She turned her face to it and breathed in deeply of the spring air. Above her, birds twittered and frolicked, looking like they, too, were thankful to be alive. It was nest-building time.
Belinda found Melissa and Amy Jo on the lawn swing sipping lemonade and chatting intently. Both girls called to her and motioned her over to join them.
“Yer lookin’ better,” said the frank Amy Jo. “Ya looked awful last night.”
Belinda smiled.
“Not awful,” corrected the more tactful Melissa, “but awfully tired.”
“Thet’s what I said,” Amy Jo hastened to assure her. “Awful!”
The three laughed.
“So are ya caught up on all the news?” Belinda asked Melissa.
“Oh my, no,” Melissa countered. “That will take much longer than we’ve had. I doubt we’ll get it all said in the next two weeks.”
At the mention of “two weeks,” Amy Jo’s face fell and she quickly said, “Don’t talk about it. I don’t want to even think about Melissa leaving again.”
“I do,” said Melissa evenly. “I haven’t seen Mother or Father for almost three years.”
Amy Jo immediately turned sympathetic. “Have ya missed them terribly?”
“I’ve missed them. Sometimes a lot. Other times not so much. But I’ve missed them. And Nathan and Joe and Julia.” Melissa’s face became very thoughtful. “I’ve even missed the ranch hands and my horses,” she admitted.
“If I left home, I don’t think I could stand it,” said Amy Jo, shaking her head. “I’d miss everyone so much.”
Melissa nodded. “I’m glad I came,” she informed the two girls. “Really glad I came. But I will be glad to get home again, too.”
“I’m glad ya came, too,” said Belinda softly. “It would have been a shame not to get to know ya.”
“It would have been jest awful,” wailed Amy Jo. “Jest awful!”
“Even more awful than I looked last night?” teased Belinda, and they chuckled again.
