by Carol Cox
“No doubt about it,” Judith answered. Her tone was solemn, although her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Some-where in the Bradley makeup is a strain of pure orneriness. The only consolation for those of us who have to deal with it is that it’s sure to come back upon them when they become parents themselves. What do you think keeps me holding on with Sam and Rose?” she added mischievously.
A laugh welled up inside Lizzie and burst forth in a delighted gurgle. “So that’s your secret? You can stand it now because you know they’ll have to go through the same thing later?” Her aunt nodded, and both women burst into gales of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” demanded Sam, who had just come into the room.
“Nothing, dear,” answered his mother, wiping her eyes. “Just thinking ahead to the future.”
“Oh,” Sam said doubtfully. “Can I use some of those rags you cut up to clean Lizzie’s saddle?” At his mother’s nod, he left again, shaking his head over the mysteries of women.
Judith followed him with her gaze, smiling tolerantly. She rubbed her swollen belly, slowly tracing large circles with the flat of her hand.
“Are you all right?” Lizzie asked, concern coloring her voice.
“Fine,” Judith reassured her, shifting to a more comfortable position. “I think all our silliness woke up the baby. He’d been resting quietly, but now he’s awake and raring to go. Here,” she said, reaching over to grasp Lizzie’s hand and place it on her protruding abdomen. “See for yourself.”
Startled, Lizzie stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. She could make out a solid form beneath the taut fabric of her aunt’s dress. “That’s the baby?” she whispered hesitantly.
“That’s him,” Judith affirmed. “Now just keep your hand still for a moment and see what happens.”
Keeping her arm in position, Lizzie hooked one foot around the leg of her chair and scooted it closer to Judith’s. She waited, trying not to move or make a sound. Her eyes widened as she felt the form shift beneath her hand. “He’s moving,” she breathed, just loud enough for her aunt to hear. “He’s really moving!”
Judith smiled serenely. “Keep your hand right there. He’s just getting started.”
The movement ceased as she spoke, and Lizzie started to remove her hand. Judith stopped her with a quick shake of her head. Suddenly, rapid fluttering erupted beneath her palm. Judith grinned as Lizzie’s gaze met hers in disbelief then lowered again, watching the frenzied movements that were clearly visible.
“I can’t believe it,” Lizzie said in awe when the baby’s performance had ended. “It felt like it might if I could put my hand in a pot of boiling water and feel the bubbles churning all around. But that felt a lot more solid than bubbles would!”
“It did, indeed!” Judith replied, laughing. “Here, let me show you what you were feeling.” She moved her own hand across her abdomen, probing with her fingertips at intervals, then told Lizzie to place her own fingers on top of hers. “Press right there,” she said, slipping her fingers out from underneath Lizzie’s. “No, don’t worry. You won’t hurt me. Do you feel that hard, rounded spot?”
Lizzie, utterly entranced, could only nod. She moved her fingers gently back and forth, tracing the outline of the little lump beneath them.
“That’s a knee,” Judith told her. “And over here, I think. . . yes.” She pressed against another spot. “Move your fingers over here. See if you can feel another hard spot, only smaller and sharper.”
Lizzie complied, fascinated. She nodded when she located the tiny object her aunt had described. “What is it?”
“An elbow.”
Lizzie noted the relative positions of the elbow and knee, then continued to probe, following the baby’s outline. “Then that must be the back. And is that the head?” She gasped and drew her hand away at the realization she had been shamelessly prodding her aunt’s midsection. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”
“Don’t worry,” Judith said, squeezing her hand. “I understand how fascinating it is. Here I am, getting ready for my fourth child, and I’m just as intrigued by it all now as I was the first time with the twins. Except,” she reflected, “that the twins were twice as lively as this little fellow.”
“You can’t mean that!” Lizzie protested. “Why, it was one thing to feel him kick like that from the outside, but to have that going on inside you, and then with two, instead of just one. . .” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “I can’t imagine it. Is it awful?”
“Awful? No, not at all. Even when my babies were kicking their hardest, it was a reassurance to me that they were strong and doing fine, and a reminder of the precious mystery that was taking place. Now,” she said, taking up her needle and leaning over the quilting frame as far as her protruding middle would allow, “let’s get working on this quilt. I want to have it finished before the baby comes. If we don’t, it’ll be a while before I’ll be able to help you with it again.”
In a daze, Lizzie moved her chair to the opposite side of the quilting frame and picked up one of the threaded needles Judith had prepared. Concentrating on taking tiny, even stitches across the bright colors of the Wedding Ring quilt helped steady her thoughts, but she couldn’t help thinking again and again about the baby and the miracle that was taking place inside her aunt’s body. To distract herself, she began talking.
“Do you really think Mama will like this quilt?”
“For the hundredth time, she’ll be thrilled. She honestly doesn’t know you’ve learned to quilt?” Judith shook her head in amazement. “It’s a wonder you’ve managed to keep this a secret. Not too many secrets last around here.”
“I think after she tried so hard to teach me to sew when I was younger and not at all interested, she finally gave up,” Lizzie answered. “I was such a tomboy that all I cared about was spending time around the bunkhouse with Willie and the ranch hands and learning to ride. I pestered them half to death to teach me to rope, but I didn’t care a lick about anything to do with a needle.”
She reached the end of her thread, fastened it, and picked up another needle. “With Mama being such a lady and knowing how to do all the right things, I think it’s been hard on her that I cared about so many of the wrong things and didn’t care at all about the right ones.”
Judith frowned. “What do you mean?”
Lizzie faltered, trying to find the right words. “I’m really not sure. It’s just that I sometimes think she’d rather I was more like her instead of the way I am.”
Judith stopped abruptly in midstitch. “Lizzie Bradley, do you think for one minute that your mother isn’t proud of you?”
“Well, not that exactly, I guess.” Lizzie squirmed uncomfortably, wishing she had not brought up this subject. “But she’s so feminine and ladylike, and I’m so. . .so. . .” Words failed her, and she shook her head in frustration.
“What I started out to say was, thank you for teaching me how to quilt. When I finally realized how much it would mean to Mama for me to learn something like this, I thought it would be fun to surprise her, that’s all. I really appreciate all the time you’ve taken, helping me with this.” She kept on with her stitching, eyes focused determinedly on the bright pieces of fabric.
Judith still hadn’t resumed stitching. “Honey,” she said gently, her voice taking Lizzie back to earlier years when she had nestled happily on her aunt’s comforting lap, “I want you to understand something.”
Lizzie, stitching busily, made a sound to indicate that she was listening.
“Your mother and I have talked a lot about our growing-up years, about how both of us were brought up. I’ve only heard about the Virginia plantation where your mother was raised, but you’ve actually been there and seen it, haven’t you?”
Lizzie nodded, memories of the large white house with its graceful verandahs and sweeping lawns springing into her mind. Her mother’s upbringing had been suitable for a proper Southern young lady, and she apparently had tak
en to it with her usual style and grace. Lizzie knew she would never have been able to measure up to the standards her grandmother had set, nor would she have wanted to.
“It was a different world,” Judith continued. “A world your mother fit into quite well, but not the world she wanted to stay in.”
Lizzie’s head snapped up, her hands stilled for once, the beginnings of hope flaring up as she searched her aunt’s face, trying to read the true meaning of her words.
“Your mother loved her parents, of course, and I know she appreciated all they did for her. But when your father came along, she was more than ready to make her life with him, in spite of their disapproval.”
“Disapproval?” Lizzie echoed, her mind whirling. “They didn’t like my father?”
“It wasn’t so much that they disliked him, I think, as the fact that they felt she’d be marrying beneath her if she accepted his proposal.”
Lizzie straightened indignantly, jabbing the point of her needle into one finger. She yelped, and popped the throbbing finger into her mouth, trying to soothe the pain.
“I can’t believe anyone could think that about my father,” she said, mumbling around her finger. “Look at this ranch. Look at what he and Uncle Jeff have built here. Look at the time he spends in Santa Fe with all those politicians. Why, he’s been there all this past week. People respect him and his opinions. He’s an important man!” she finished indignantly. “How could they ever feel that way about him?”
Judith smiled gently. “When your mother and father first met, he didn’t have any of this,” she reminded Lizzie. “He and his family still lived in Texas, and as far as your Virginia grandparents were concerned, he was just a shirttail relative visiting one of their neighbors. Your mother was the one who could see past the inexperienced youngster he was then to the fine man he could become.”
Lizzie pulled the finger out of her mouth and inspected it, grimacing at the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. “Thank goodness for that!” she said tartly.
An all-too-familiar knot in her stomach made her forget the pain in her finger. “But after all those years out here, Mama’s still such a lady. How can she not be disappointed in me?” Her throat tightened and she lowered her eyes once again to the quilt, hoping her aunt hadn’t seen the sudden tears that stung her eyes.
“What I’m trying to say, Lizzie, is that your mother sees not only the girl you are now, but the woman you’re becoming. She doesn’t see you as failing to meet some standard your grandmother set. She sees you as a wonderful, unique person with a special life planned for her by the Lord. Watching that person unfold is an adventure, not a disappointment.”
Nothing broke the silence as the two women stitched steadily. Intent on keeping her lines straight and her stitches even, Lizzie found that one part of her mind was still free to ponder what her aunt had said.
If only it were true! As a child she’d been much more interested in tomboyish activities than matters of propriety, but back then she hadn’t cared what anyone else had thought. At nineteen, the difference between her perception of herself and the accomplishments proper young ladies were supposed to have achieved was something she felt keenly.
She could hardly believe her lovely, well-brought-up mother could be satisfied having a daughter like her. But if Aunt Judith said it was so. . .
“It really is all a mystery, isn’t it?” Lizzie asked abruptly.
“What is?”
“Oh, life and growing up and all. Sometimes I feel like your baby there.” She flushed when Judith glanced up and raised her eyebrows questioningly, knowing she wasn’t saying it the way she wanted to. “I mean, he’s there inside you, a real, live person, with his own identity. But he’s still developing and growing so he’ll be ready to be born when the time comes. He’s still becoming the person he’s supposed to be.
“That’s kind of how I am,” she went on, feeling that she was beginning to express some of what she felt. “I’ve lived for nineteen years now, and as far as the calendar’s concerned, I’m an adult. But I don’t feel like it. I think I’m still not finished. I’m growing and developing like your baby, trying to become the person I’m supposed to be. But I don’t even know who that person is!” she ended in a wail.
“I look at other girls my age, girls I’ve known growing up. Most of them are already married. A couple of them are at finishing schools back east, and the rest at least have some sense of who they are. But me—all I am is confused!” She flung her hands out in frustration, connecting with a vase full of marigolds and pansies and knocking it to the floor with a crash.
She stared at the jagged crockery fragments and sodden petals, stunned by what she’d done. “Oh, Aunt Judith, I’m so sorry!” She knelt to pick up the broken pieces. “See what I mean? I’m just a mess!” The tears poured from her eyes in earnest, blurring her view of her aunt pushing herself to her feet and moving heavily into the next room. By the time she returned, Lizzie had disposed of the ruined vase, mopped up the soggy mess, and dried her eyes, although they felt puffy and swollen.
Judith carried a tray with two steaming cups and set it on a low table near the settee. Lowering herself slowly onto the seat, she patted the cushion next to her. “Come over here and have a cup of tea. It’ll do wonders for you.”
Lizzie complied, wiping her nose surreptitiously as she did so. Judith slipped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Listen to me, Elizabeth Bradley. There is nothing in the world wrong with you. God has a special timetable for each one of us, and you’re no different. Quit worrying about what other girls your age are doing and start concentrating on being the person He created you to be. You’re on a voyage of discovery—enjoy it!” She gave Lizzie a squeeze and handed her one of the cups.
“Thanks, Aunt Judith.” From the time Judith had come to be a part of the Bradley family, Lizzie had turned to her for refuge in times of confusion. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had regained a sense of being acceptable. “I’m so glad you married Uncle Jeff,” she blurted out impulsively.
“Well, so am I,” her aunt replied, and they both laughed. Lizzie tried to remember—didn’t the Bible say something about laughter being good like a medicine? It seemed like today’s dose had gone a long way toward helping to heal the way she’d been feeling lately.
She glanced at Judith with affection. “Was it like this with your aunt? The one you grew up with?”
Startled, Judith looked as though she didn’t know whether to burst into laughter or tears. Then a resigned smile curved her lips. “You mean being able to talk things out like this?” She shook her head slowly. “No, it was nothing like this. When I went to live with my aunt, I was the same age you were when I came here. My mother had died not long before, and my aunt offered my father and me a home. He accepted, trying to do what was best for me, I suppose, and probably felt having a woman’s influence would be good for me.”
She stared into the distance for a moment, apparently lost in her memories. “Aunt Phoebe was nothing like my mother, even though they were sisters. I think she cared for me in her own way, but she wasn’t a very demonstrative person. I was never able to take my problems or questions to her.” She blinked, then seemed to return to the present and looked at Lizzie. “At one time, I felt terribly sorry for myself over the way she treated me. But now I can see how it all worked into God’s plan.”
Lizzie shook her head doubtfully. “Being treated badly was part of God’s plan? How?”
“If I’d been comfortable and content back in St. Joseph,” Judith responded, “I never would have come out west to start a new life. And if I hadn’t done that, I never would have met your Uncle Jeff and become part of this wonderful family.
“You see?” she continued. “Those growing-up years were hard. They weren’t what I wanted. But if I hadn’t gone through them, I wouldn’t have what I do now.”
Lizzie nodded, trying to see things from this new perspective. “So maybe what I’m go
ing through now will all work out in the long run?” she asked eagerly.
“Absolutely,” her aunt said with conviction. “God promises that in His Word. The Lord is the hope of His people, Lizzie, remember that.”
“Hope,” Lizzie breathed. “That’s exactly what I need.” She gave her aunt a warm hug. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a good life with your aunt, but I’m glad, too, since it brought you here.” She drew back a bit in concern. “That sounds awful, doesn’t it?”
Judith chuckled. “I know what you mean, and I couldn’t agree more.”
Lizzie hugged her again, relieved. “I’d better be getting back now. I’m sorry we didn’t get more done on the quilt.”
“Don’t you worry,” Judith said, smiling. “Sometimes more important things come up. Besides, we’re close to being finished. Two or three more sessions ought to do it. Can you come again next week?”
“Maybe even before then,” Lizzie assured her. “For now, though, I’d better get going and take Dancer for a good run before I go home. As far as Mama knows, I’m just out for my daily ride, and Dancer had better look like he’s done more than stand in your barn munching hay.”
With her aunt’s reassuring words echoing in her mind, she guided the buckskin gelding in a wide loop on her way back to the ranch house.
Everything would work together for good, she reminded herself. Aunt Judith had said so, and God Himself had promised it.
three
When Lizzie led Dancer into the barn, she was delighted to see her father’s big black stallion contentedly munching grain in his own stall. She unsaddled Dancer quickly, giving him a hurried but thorough grooming, and closed him in his stall with a full ration of oats.
