Love's Abiding Joy

by Janette Oke

  THIRTEEN

  Adjustments

  Marty thought Clark’s recovery was slow indeed, but to Dr. de la Rosa, it was a daily miracle. Clark was doing much better than the doctor had dared to hope. When one considered what the man had been through, his convalescence was truly amazing, Doc often told her.

  Willie had kept the family in the East informed throughout the whole ordeal by the means of telegrams. A great measure of relief accompanied the cable assuring them that Clark was well on the way to recovery. He stated that, at the present, he was still unable to give them a date for Clark’s return home. The answer soon came by telegram: “PA DON’T HURRY STOP EVERYTHING FINE HERE STOP LETTER FOLLOWING.” Marty anxiously awaited the arrival of the letter.

  As she sat one morning mending one of Nathan’s small shirts, Marty was surprised to realize it was well past the time they had planned to return to their farm. How different the trip had turned out from what they had expected! It dawned on Marty that Clare’s wedding was only days away. She and Clark would not—could not—possibly make it back in time. Deep disappointment flooded through her. How could she miss her son’s wedding? But neither would she want the young couple to postpone it on their account. Then Marty thought of Luke’s plans to go off to college. She should be home right now preparing his clothes and getting him ready. How she hated to miss that, too! A few tears slipped down her cheeks, and Marty wiped them away quickly before they could be observed. But Luke is so young, her heart cried. It was hard enough to let him go, but without her there to … She stopped herself. She’d be crying in earnest if she didn’t get her imagination under control. Marty laid aside the shirt and went to check on Clark.

  Missie was already there. In fact, it was not often that Missie was not with her father. She made up games to play with him, read to him, fluffed his pillows, sponged his face and hands, talked to him about her garden and children, discussed his meals, and told him of happenings in the district. Yes, Missie was often with her father. It was touching to see so much love between father and daughter. Marty smiled at the two of them.

  “Do you know what he’s saying?” said Missie in exasperation. “He’s saying that he’s going to get up.”

  Marty smiled again. “I think thet’s a great idea.”

  “Great?” Missie exclaimed, shocked. “He’s not ready for that yet! Juan said—”

  “Juan said he should choose his own pace. Iffen yer father thinks he is—”

  Clark stopped the two of them. “Hold it, hold it,” he said, raising his hands in his customary way. “No use ya all gittin’ into it. I will obey my doctor. I’ll not git up till I’m good ’n’ ready to git up. Iffen ya don’t think the time is right, Missie, I’ll wait.”

  Missie looked relieved and Marty slightly bewildered.

  “I’ll wait until right after lunch,” Clark announced.

  Missie sputtered, “Big wait—especially since it’s now eleven-thirty.”

  All three began to laugh.

  After lunch Clark sat on the edge of the bed for a while. Later, with Marty on one side and Wong on the other, he moved to the porch to sit in a rocking chair. The day was hot, but Marty could tell the sun’s rays felt good to this man who had been shut away in the house far too long. He took great breaths of the fresh air and sniffed deeply of the earth and growing things.

  Nathan came to play by him, showing him all the tricks Max could do. Being a family dog rather than a show dog, Max had very few of them, so Nathan put him through the same ones over and over while Clark laughed appreciatively as though enjoying each trick.

  Marty tried to keep herself from hovering over him, but she watched carefully for any signs he might be overdoing it.

  Just then Scottie returned from town with the promised letter from the family back home.

  Excitedly, Marty read it aloud.

  “Dear Ma and Pa,

  “We are so glad to hear that Pa is finally feeling better. We can’t say how sorry we are for the accident that took Pa’s leg, but we are so glad that he was spared. We have all been praying daily, I guess almost hourly, for you both.

  “We don’t want you to worry a bit about things here at home.Clare has decided to go ahead with his wedding. They had talked of waiting until you were back home again, but they thought that might pressure you into traveling before you are really ready. We want to be good and sure you are strong enough for the trip before you attempt it, Pa. So, for our sake, please don’t come home until you are really well.

  “Arnie is taking good care of the stock. That’s been his job since you left, Pa. Of course he helps Clare in the field, too, but the stock is in his special care. He has not been seeing Hester lately. Her brothers just made it too miserable, and she says she doesn’t want to marry anyone that her brothers can’t drink with.

  “There’s a new girl in town, though. She is the new preacher’s daughter, and Arnie has gotten pretty friendly with her.You would really like her, Ma. She’s a very thoughtful person, and Arnie is beginning to think she’s kind of cute.

  “Luke’s not going to college this fall. He’s been spending a bit of time with Dr. Watkins lately. Dr. Watkins says he’s still plenty young and another year of waiting won’t hurt him any. Dr. Watkins is giving Luke the use of some of his medical books to read.He is taking Luke with him on his Saturday calls, too, so Luke says he is learning more than he ever would in the first year of medical school. Dr. Watkins really seems to be enjoying Luke. He treats him as though he were his son. Guess Dr. Watkins maybe misses not having a family of his own. Anyway, Luke seems really happy with this arrangement.

  “Everything is going well here. The canning is almost all done, Ma. The garden has done real good and the apples are coming on well. Ma Graham came over and helped me for one day. She sends her love. Everyone at church is remembering you in prayer.

  “Nandry and Clae both say they will write now that we know a little better what to say. I will admit we were really scared for a while. God bless you both. We miss you to be sure, but we are doing fine on our own.

  “In love,

  Ellie and the boys”

  The letter both relieved and saddened Marty. She missed them all so much, but it was good to hear they were all right and managing well in spite of the extended absence. She was glad Clare was going ahead with the wedding, and she was also glad Arnie had a nice girl for a friend. Marty was relieved to hear that her Luke would not be going off to college without his mother there to see him off. She quietly thanked God for working out these things and for allowing Dr. Watkins to shepherd the boy.

  Clark turned from the letter with relief on his face. Marty had been unaware that, in spite of his ordeal, he also was concerned for the family at home.

  “Well,” he said, “seems as though they be makin’ do jest fine without us. I’m proud of the young’uns you’ve raised, Mrs. Davis.” He reached over from his chair for her hand.

  Marty beamed. “An’ so am I. ’Course you didn’t have much of a hand in it at all.”

  “Maybe we can jest sort of take our time recuperatin’ after all,” sighed Clark. His grin was a little wobbly. “I think I’ll jest get on back to my bed and catch me a nap.”

  Marty looked at him quickly and saw he was rather pale. Maybe Missie had been right … maybe Clark was pushing things too quickly. She and Wong got him settled back in his bed.

  But Clark was content to take one day at a time. He attempted only what he thought he could manage. Very gradually, his strength was returning.

  The two couples from town whose boys had been involved in the mine accident came out to the LaHaye ranch for a visit. The two mothers, still unable to talk of the incident without weeping, thanked Clark over and over for going in after their sons. Mrs. Croft, whose Abe had been lost in the mishap, wiped away tears as she talked about how difficult the adjustment to life without Abe had been for his brother Casey and his parents. But she was so thankful they had been able to see Abe again and that his body
had not been buried deep in the mine. They also were appreciative to Willie for taking charge of arrangements concerning the blasting of the mine opening so there would be no further danger to other children.

  Though it was difficult for them to truly express what they were feeling, they did try to make Clark understand how sorry they were that he had lost his leg. Clark assured them that in every circumstance of his life—whether good or bad—he believed with all of his heart that God knew his situation and was more than able to help him through it. He told them he was aware that there would be adjustments and some of them would be difficult. But, when it came down to it, though he was human, God was sovereign. The visitors looked a trifle uneasy at Clark’s forthrightness about his faith, and Marty, watching them with understanding, supposed it was as new to them as it had been to her when she had first joined Clark’s household so many years before. Clark’s face and voice held such confidence that in spite of their doubts, those in the room could not but be sure he believed every word.

  Finally Mrs. Croft must have dared to speak some of what she was feeling. “It was hard fer me not to have a preacher man here fer my son’s buryin’. Oh, I know I ain’t rightly what you’d call a church person, but I believe in the Almighty. Can’t say I’m on speakin’ terms with ’im exactly … but … well, sometimes … ’specially in hard times like we jest been through … sometimes I jest wish I knew a little more ’bout ’im… .”

  Willie spoke up then. “We have meetin’s here together each Sunday. I know it ain’t like being in a church, but we do read from the Word together an’ sing a hymn or two. Ya all sure would be welcome to join us. Anyone is welcome anytime.”

  “Where ya meetin’?”

  “Right here—in our home.”

  The woman’s face expressed a new interest.

  “What time ya meet?”

  “Every Sunday at two o’clock.”

  “I dunno,” interjected her husband. “It’s a long way from town. By the time we got back home again, it’d be ’most dark.”

  The woman, disappointed, looked down at her lap and her clasped hands.

  Clark suggested, “Maybe the service could be moved up a bit earlier and not ’llowed to go fer too long.”

  The woman raised her head again, her eyes hopeful.

  “Well,” said the man, probably sensing how much it meant to her, “we might give it a try fer a Sunday at the two-o’clock time an’ see how it goes.”

  The slight smile flickering across the woman’s face said it all.

  Andy’s parents had taken no part in the exchange about church. Willie turned to them. “We’d be most happy to have ya join us, too.”

  The man shook his head and shuffled his feet in an embarrassed fashion. What he mumbled was, “Don’t think we be needin’ thet. Our boy’s jest fine now. Doc set his ankle and it’s ’most as good as new.”

  Marty could tell that both Clark and Willie were biting their tongues to keep from jumping in with an answer.

  Finally Clark said, “We spend a bit of time in our service thanking the Lord, as well. Perhaps you an’ yer wife would like an opportunity to thank God thet He ’llowed yer boy to git out safely. Ya’d be welcome to join us anytime—fer any reason.” The man nodded silently.

  Missie served them coffee and cake, and they went on their way. As she went out the door, Mrs. Croft whispered that she was already counting the days until Sunday.

  Maria and Juan came often. Juan, like a new man, had been to the city to make arrangements for setting up a proper office for the practice of medicine. He had stocked a supply cupboard with the medicines and equipment he would need. The townsfolk had coaxed him to move into a building they would provide, but Juan wished to remain on his ranch. He did agree to be at a town office for two days of the week; the rest of the time he would work out of his own home. Glad that he had built a large house, he immediately converted one wing into an office and small examining room. He worried some, realizing that he had none of the conveniences of the city hospitals, but he could send some more serious cases out by train or stagecoach.

  One night as they talked together, Clark noticed that the usually buoyant Juan was quiet. Maria tried to keep the conversation going, but it was easy to sense that something was troubling Juan. After asking about his new practice, the neighborhood, the ranch, and the children, and still getting very little response from Juan, the group grew quiet.

  Clark eventually turned once more to Juan. “I’m a wonderin’, Doc, if I might see ya in the privacy of my room fer a few minutes,” asked Clark. Juan offered his arm and Clark managed the distance with short, awkward hops.

  Clark sat on his bed and caught his breath. He needed some kind of a crutch. He must get busy fashioning one. Hopping was far too difficult and drained him of what little strength he had.

  “Something troubling… ?” began Juan, concerned.

  “Yah,” said Clark easily, “I’m thinkin’ there is.”

  The doctor automatically reached for the offending limb and began to unpin the pant leg, but Clark stopped him. “Leg’s jest fine, Doc.”

  Juan was puzzled.

  “Something else is bringing you pain?”

  “Well, ya might say thet.”

  “And where is it hurting?”

  “Well, I don’t rightly know. Thet’s what I was gonna ask.”

  Juan’s puzzled frown deepened.

  “Well,” said Clark, watching Juan closely, “I kinda got the feelin’ somethin’ was hurtin’ the doctor and he wasn’t feelin’ free to say anythin’.”

  Juan looked startled and moved away to the window, where he stood looking out on the soft night.

  “It shows that much?”

  “It shows.”

  “I am indeed sorry. I did not mean to bring my feelings to this home, to bring sadness to those I care for.”

  “Anythin’ thet ya care to talk about … or thet I could do?” asked Clark.

  Juan stood in silence for several minutes and finally turned with a deep sigh and troubled eyes.

  “I think that you have heard my story—at least in part. You know that I became a doctor against my father’s wishes. You know, too, that I was responsible for my own brother’s death—”

  But Clark’s hand stopped him. “No,” he said emphatically, “thet’s not the way I heard the story. Yer brother had gangrene in a bad leg; you amputated, as you had to. Yer brother chose to take his own life.”

  Juan waved that aside. “My father does not see it that way. He told me to leave that night and forbade me to return to his home again.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Clark. “It must be very hard for you.”

  “It is. It is very hard. Now that I am again going to practice medicine, I wish with all of my heart that I could do so with my father’s blessing.” Juan hesitated, then continued. “That sounds very foolish to you, I’m sure, but—”

  “Not at all. I think I’d feel the same way.”

  “You would?”

  “To be sure I would.”

  There was silence. Clark broke it. “What of yer mother? Is she still livin’?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps that’s what bothers me most. My mother never dared to say so, but I think she was proud that I had chosen to be a doctor. When my father sent me away, my mother, for the first time in her life, dared to protest. She fell on her knees before him and pleaded that he reconsider. In the name of Mary and all the saints, she asked him to allow me to stay. ‘Must I lose both my sons on the same night?’ she cried. I can see her yet, and the vision haunts me. If only I knew that my mother was all right.”

  “Why don’t ya jest go on down an’ find out?”

  “Return home?”

  “Sure.”

  “But my father has not asked me to come.”

  Clark shrugged his shoulders.

  The minutes dragged by as Juan struggled with the thought. Then Clark asked softly, “Are ya afraid?”

  “Of my own father?�
� Juan’s shock showed the insult of such a question.

  “Well, I don’t know the man. Have no idea what he might do.”

  “My father would never harm me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinkin’ nothin’,” responded Clark simply. “You were doin’ the thinkin’.”

  Juan nodded his head in reluctant agreement.

  “So,” said Clark, “since ya have nothin’ to fear, why is it a problem to go back?”

  “I have not been asked,” said Juan with a great deal of dignity. “To go back so would be like a stray puppy crawling home for forgiveness and acceptance. Even my father would scorn such—”

  “Ya mean it’s a matter of pride?” Clark asked quietly.

  Juan’s head jerked up, his black eyes flashing fire.

  “I understand,” Clark nodded gravely. “A man does have his pride.”

  There was silence again. Juan began to pace the room. The air around them seemed to be heavy with unspoken ideas. Clark again dared to break the silence.

  “ ’Course a man can, with God’s help, swaller his pride an’ do what he knows he should. If yer mother is livin’, I’m sure she is hurtin’, too. She has no idea if you’re alive or dead. An’ if yer father is still livin’ an’ has maybe changed his feelin’s some, how would he ever find ya to let ya know?”

  Still Juan struggled with the issue.

  “You do not know—” he began.

  “No,” agreed Clark, “I do not know. I admit to thet. But God does, an’ I don’t think you’re admittin’ to thet. Shore thing, I wasn’t raised like you was, but things have been a bit tough fer me at times, too. Life can be pretty quick to take a swipe at a man. Sometimes we can’t duck the blows. We jest gotta take ’em head-on. They smart a bit, to be sure. But …” Clark allowed his gaze to rest on his stub of a leg. “He knows all thet. He not only knows, but He cares. He doesn’t ask from us thet we understand or even like what we face, but jest thet we face it like a man, an’ do what we know to be right, even though it goes against us at times.”