by Janette Oke
“I think it’s good to see more of the world than your own little nook,” Melissa said. “I love the West, but I’m glad I dared to leave home for a time and get to know a bit more about our country. One can get so . . . so . . . ingrown.”
Ingrown, thought Belinda. Guess that’s what’s happening to me. I know nothing about the world except these few miles around where I was born and live. Nothing!
“An’ ya never would have met Jackson!” squealed Amy Jo, and the girls laughed merrily.
“Jackson,” Melissa chuckled. “You know, there was a time when I thought that life just wouldn’t be worth living without Jackson.”
“Is it?” wailed Amy Jo in mock surprise.
Melissa laughed again. “Well,” she said, her large brown eyes rolling heavenward, “if I learned nothing else at normal school, I did learn this. There are lots of young men out there. And some of them—a few of them—are even as exciting as Jackson.”
“No-o-o!” groaned Amy Jo.
“On my honor,” said Melissa in mock seriousness, raising her right hand.
From there the talk went on to Melissa’s year at the school and the school parties and church functions that she’d attended and the escorts she’d had for such occasions.
Amy Jo clasped her hands together, moaning openly at the very idea of being a popular young lady in such a circumstance. Belinda listened quietly, though she did have a few questions of her own she wished to ask Melissa. She wasn’t sure if she would enjoy so many beaus or not, but it was interesting to think about it. One thing for sure was that she was no longer concerned about Melissa being heartbroken if Jackson should choose someone else.
Three
A Neighborhood Party
A party in Melissa’s honor was being planned. It was really Amy Jo’s idea, but Marty saw it as an opportunity for the youth of the community to get together for a fun fellowship time and heartily endorsed it. Belinda, who usually wasn’t too keen on parties, found herself looking forward to the Saturday evening event.
The guest list included past school friends and young people of the local church. The invitations went out, and Amy Jo was very worried about how many would be able to come on such short notice. “What if nobody comes,” she was constantly wailing till she nearly drove everyone to distraction.
But on the evening of the party, the teams and saddle horses began to arrive shortly after seven, and the Davis farmyard soon was filled with tethered animals and various kinds of horse-drawn vehicles. It had been some time since so many of the girls’ schoolmates had been together, and there were lots of excited greetings and laughter as the group gathered in the large backyard.
The festivities began in the nearby pasture with a game of softball, the fellows playing and the girls wildly cheering them on. Then a few girls joined the game, Amy Jo one of them. She was used to playing most of the games that her younger brothers played and saw no reason to be left out. She coaxed Melissa and Belinda to play, but Belinda declined. She had never cared much for sports of any kind and did not want to embarrass herself by showing her lack of ability.
Melissa hesitantly joined the game. Her sports skills were no greater than Belinda’s, but she was going to make the most of her lack of expertise. Joe Parker coached her running. Tom Rankin helped her to cover third base, though his spot was really shortstop, and Sly Foster showed her how to hold and swing the bat. Melissa looked as if she was actually enjoying the game of softball.
The game continued until almost sundown. When it became too dark to see the ball, the group switched to other running games. Belinda excused herself, saying that she would prepare the fire for the corn roast to follow.
She was laying the kindling wood in the open brick pit Clark had built in the backyard for just such occasions when a voice spoke to her from the soft twilight. “May I help?”
It was Rand O’Connel, a young man Belinda hadn’t seen since school days. Belinda thanked him and moved aside so that Rand could take over the task.
“Hear you’ve been nursin’,” he commented as he carefully placed the wood.
Belinda nodded her head and then realized that in the near-darkness a question should be answered aloud. “Yes,” she said. “Helpin’ my brother Luke.”
“Do ya like it?” he questioned further.
“Oh yes. Least most of the time. Sometimes it can get a bit hectic.”
“Pa says yer good at it,” went on Rand, and Belinda puzzled for a moment and then remembered that Mr. O’Connel had been in to have stitches because of an axe cut on his foot.
“How is yer pa’s foot doin’?” she asked.
“Fine now. Doesn’t even limp.”
“That’s due to Luke—not me,” said Belinda.
“Pa knows thet. But he also said ya took his mind off the pain, knew what to do until Luke got there and how to help Luke when he did the sewin’ up.”
Belinda felt herself flushing at the praise and dropped her eyes.
“Do ya farm with yer pa?” she asked to cover her embarrassment. “I haven’t seen ya around since . . . since grade school.”
“Jest got back. Been helpin’ my uncle down state.”
“Oh.”
“He has him a dairy farm and needed a hired hand.”
“Are ya goin’ back?” asked Belinda to keep the conversation from dying.
“Nope. Not to milkin’,” he said simply.
“So, what do ya plan to do now?” asked Belinda.
Rand lit a match to the kindling and watched as the small flame began to lick at the fine wood splinters. Around them the darkness was closing in. The shrieks and calls of the players filled the air all about them, making the evening feel friendly and warm.
“Fer now, I plan to jest look around here fer a job,” responded Rand, his eyes still on the growing fire.
“What kind of job?” Belinda asked.
“Can’t be choosy,” he acknowledged. “Take whatever I can git. Heard of anything?”
“No-o. Not that I recall. But it shouldn’t be hard to find something. Yer big—an’ strong. Should be lots of work—”
And then Belinda realized what she had just said about him and stopped in embarrassment. Rand said nothing. She wondered if he had even heard her foolishness. Much to her relief, he seemed totally taken with tending the fire.
The firelight was casting dancing shadows over his features. She had forgotten what he looked like. She had forgotten most everything about Rand O’Connel. Not that she had ever really noticed him much in the past. He had been just a boy—a fellow student at their small school, neither stupid nor brainy, loud nor shy. He had just been there. By the light of the fire, she took a good look at him now.
His dark hair fell boyishly over his forehead, and he unconsciously brushed it back with a work-toughened hand. The hair at the nape of his neck curled over his shirt collar, and Belinda realized that if the rest of it hadn’t been cut short, it would probably curl over his whole head. His eyes were deep set and fringed with dark lashes. His nose had the slightest hump, suggesting that it might have been injured at some time. There was a small indentation in his cheek that looked almost like a dimple—though, looking at the young man, Belinda dared to think he’d not take kindly to anyone calling it such.
He must have felt her eyes upon him, for he turned to look at her. Belinda shifted her gaze quickly away and pretended to be busy brushing the wood chips from her long skirt.
“I hear Melissa’s been away at school an’ is a full-fledged teacher now,” he said after a brief silence that hung awkwardly between them.
Belinda, glad for something to break the spell, answered in a rush, “Yes, thet’s right. She loved normal school—but she’s glad to be home, too.”
“Is she stayin’? Here, I mean? I thought her home—”
“Oh, it is. I mean, she’s jest here for a brief spell. Two weeks in fact—and part of thet’s already gone. Then she’s going home. To her real home. I’ve jest gotten used to th
inkin’ of this as her home. I mean . . . this seems like home for her . . . to me. She was with us for more’n two years and then back for visits an’ . . . I really will miss her,” she finally finished lamely.
Rand just nodded his head. He seemed to have been able to follow her rambling.
“She excited about teachin’?” he asked.
“Oh yes. She’s always wanted to be a teacher. And they need lots of teachers in the West, too.”
“I’m glad she likes it.”
He seemed so sincere, so genuinely pleased for Melissa that Belinda looked at him intently, wondering, Is this another of Melissa’s secret admirers? Is he wishing her well, even though his real desire is for her to stay in the area? Belinda concluded that he well could be. She felt a strange sympathy for Rand. He seemed like such a nice young man. Belinda was sorry he might suffer over Melissa’s coming departure.
But Rand went on in a matter-of-fact voice. “Glad she’s found what she wants to do. Must be nice to decide an’ then jest go on out an’ do it.” He laid a bigger stick of wood on the fire.
Now Belinda was puzzled. Perhaps he was smitten with Melissa—but he also sounded almost wistful about her goal of teaching. Was there something Rand wished to do—to become—that seemed beyond him? Belinda hardly knew what to say next. This turn in the conversation was a surprise, a puzzle to her.
Before she could think of what response to make, Rand looked at her and smiled. In the firelight she saw his eyes lighten, his cheek crease into a deep dimple.
Now that is definitely a dimple, she caught herself thinking and shifted her weight from one foot to the other in an effort to hide her embarrassment over the unbidden thought.
“Have me the feelin’ thet nursin’ or teachin’ jest isn’t in the same class as milkin’ cows,” he said, laughing good-naturedly.
Belinda smiled back and took a minute to answer. “Maybe it is,” she said slowly. “If one enjoys milkin’ cows.”
He sobered, then nodded his head. “Might be at thet,” he agreed, then repeated, “if one enjoys milkin’ cows.”
The fire crackled, and the calls and laughter reached out to them from the nearby game. But a silence fell between them as each studied closely the orange-red fingers of the flickering flames.
Belinda gathered from his statement that he had never been fond of farming. She also sensed that there was something else he felt he would enjoy. Whatever it was, he seemed to consider it unobtainable. Was it? Or was that just Rand’s assessment of the situation? Belinda knew it really was no business of hers—and yet she was interested and concerned for him. She really did care. Would he feel she was interfering if she pressed further? She finally decided to risk asking, hoping that Rand would not see it as prying into his personal life.
“What might ya like to do?” she asked softly.
Rand laughed quietly as though his dream were too farfetched to even mention. Then he turned and studied Belinda carefully to see if she really was interested in hearing. From the look on her face, he must have concluded that she was.
When he answered, he spoke softly, as though his words were for her alone.
“Had me this crazy dream, ever since I was a kid, of makin’ things—buildin’ with my hands,” he said, stretching out his hands before him.
Belinda’s gaze fell on the outstretched hands and she saw strength and creativity in the long fingers and broad palms.
“Thet’s not one bit crazy,” she responded before she could check herself. “No reason in the world why ya can’t do thet.”
Rand swung to face her. “I ain’t got no money to train,” he said rather stiffly, “an’ I wouldn’t know where to go to git trainin’ even iffen I did have the money.”
“Then learn by doin’,” Belinda put in quickly. “Try! Be willin’ to try! You might fail—but you’d learn from yer mistakes. Next time you’d know how to go about it better. Watch others and learn from them. There’s lots of ways to learn if you really want to. I couldn’t go off to school, either, so I’m learnin’ from Luke. Maybe a builder would let you work with him. . . .”
Belinda might have gone on and on had not Rand stopped her.
“I never thought on thet,” he said, shaking his head in wonderment. “Never once thought on it. Do ya really think someone might—?”
“’Course! Why not?”
The voices of the others were drawing closer. Belinda could hear the chatter of Amy Jo and the ladylike laugh of Melissa as they all came to take part in the roasting. But before they reached the yard and the crackling fire, Rand reached out and gave Belinda’s hand a quick squeeze.
“Thanks.” He spoke simply, and Belinda gave him a brief smile.
She was surprised at the amount of empathy she felt for him. It must be tough to be a young man with dreams and little hope of seeing them realized. If he did become a builder, then there was Melissa who would be hundreds of miles away—
Before Belinda could stop herself she said, “And I’m . . . I’m sorry,” her voice almost a whisper, “thet Melissa is goin’ back west. She is very sweet . . . an’ terribly pretty, an’ I know . . .”
Rand looked puzzled. “Melissa? Why? I think she should go where she feels home is—where she is needed.”
“But—” began Belinda.
Rand seemed to catch on then. “Ya think I . . . I like Melissa?”
Belinda just nodded.
“Why?” he asked simply.
“Ya asked about her—talked about her. I . . . I thought—”
He shook his head. “She seems nice—sure—an’ pretty, too, I guess, though I really hadn’t noticed.” For a moment he hesitated. The group was entering the yard. Taking a deep breath, he hurried on. “Guess I’ve only been seein’ one girl tonight. For a long time, in fact.” And Rand gave Belinda such a meaningful look that she flushed with embarrassment. Mumbling something about seeing to the food, she fled to the security of the farm kitchen.
Four
Such a Short Time
As the girls put the clean dishes back in the cupboard, they discussed the party.
“We should do it oftener!” exclaimed Amy Jo. “I haven’t had so much fun for jest—years.”
Melissa looked rather dreamy. “Me too,” she admitted. “It was even more fun than the parties at school back east.”
“Really?” demanded Amy Jo. “Ya really had more fun?”
Melissa nodded. “Part of it was having you and Belinda with me,” she admitted. “You make everything more fun.”
Amy Jo sighed.
“Did I say something wrong?” asked Melissa quickly.
“No . . . it’s jest . . . well . . . it’s never as much fun when yer not here. Belinda jest works all the time, an’ I . . . I jest help Ma and hang around . . . an’ . . .”
Melissa stopped to put her arms around Amy Jo’s neck, and Belinda felt an odd stab of guilt. Life must be hard for fun-loving Amy Jo, she thought to herself. The girl loved people and parties and all the merriment that went with them. Belinda didn’t really miss the fun and excitement of parties. Oh, she liked people, too. But she was usually too tired to even think of social events and companionship, with nursing taking so much of her time and energy. Maybe . . . maybe if Jackson did come back to help in the medical practice, some of that would change. Maybe there would be time for other things. . . .
Tears had formed in Amy Jo’s eyes. “I . . . I jest wish ya didn’t have to go.”
Melissa’s eyes filled, also. She shook her head slowly. “Oh, I’m so mixed up,” she said frankly. “So mixed up. I want to go and I want to stay. I . . . I just wish there weren’t so many miles between here and home. If only we could visit more . . . could stop in for a week here or there whenever we took the notion. I miss the folks . . . but I know I’ll miss you just as much.”
Belinda, too, had joined her tears with the others. All three stood wiping eyes and noses. The joy of a few moments before had simply melted into sorrow at the coming parting.
“I shouldn’t ever have come here,” sniffed Melissa. “I didn’t miss you all one bit before I got to know you.”
Amy Jo looked up with a start, then began to giggle. At first Belinda could see nothing funny and then the thought of how the three of them must look, all huddled together wiping tears and moaning over the fact that they had gotten to know and love one another, struck her as funny, also. She joined the laughter, and Melissa, thinking of her absurd words, laughed harder than anyone.
“We’re silly, aren’t we?” ventured Amy Jo. “We all know thet we wouldn’t have missed these years fer the world . . . an’ yet . . . it’s so hard to think thet they’re over.”
Belinda poured out three glasses of milk and nodded toward the table. She helped herself to a slice of johnnycake and moved to a chair.
“I don’t know ’bout you,” she said, “but I was so busy servin’ the food thet I scarcely ate a thing. I’m hungry.”
The other girls followed suit. Melissa chose two gingersnaps, and Amy Jo helped herself to sugar cookies.
“But it was a good party,” insisted Amy Jo, no doubt intent upon getting them back in a festive mood.
“I had quite forgotten there are so many charmers around here!” exclaimed Melissa.
“Charmers!” howled Amy Jo. “Don’t ya mean farmers?”
Melissa doubled over in laughter. Even Belinda smiled.
“Be serious, Amy Jo,” giggled Melissa. “Some of these fellows are so-o good-looking. And strong. And they are so . . . so anxious to help a person.”
“Help you, ya mean,” argued Amy Jo, even though she’d had her share of “help” in the games, as well, Belinda had noticed.
Melissa giggled again, then sobered.
“I’m sure there won’t be nearly as many young men back home,” she said quietly.
“See! Thet’s another reason ya should stay here,” insisted Amy Jo.
Melissa seemed not to hear. “In fact,” she went on slowly, “I can’t really remember much about the boys at all. They all seemed like such kids.”
