by Janette Oke
The Bluebird and the Sparrow
Books by Janette Oke
Return to Harmony • Another Homecoming
Tomorrow’s Dream
ACTS OF FAITH*
The Centurion’s Wife • The Hidden Flame • The Damascus Way
CANADIAN WEST
When Calls the Heart • When Comes the Spring
When Breaks the Dawn • When Hope Springs New
Beyond the Gathering Storm
When Tomorrow Comes
LOVE COMES SOFTLY
Love Comes Softly • Love’s Enduring Promise
Love’s Long Journey • Love’s Abiding Joy
Love’s Unending Legacy • Love’s Unfolding Dream
Love Takes Wing • Love Finds a Home
A PRAIRIE LEGACY
The Tender Years • A Searching Heart
A Quiet Strength • Like Gold Refined
SEASONS OF THE HEART
Once Upon a Summer • The Winds of Autumn
Winter Is Not Forever • Spring’s Gentle Promise
SONG OF ACADIA*
The Meeting Place • The Sacred Shore • The Birthright
The Distant Beacon • The Beloved Land
WOMEN OF THE WEST
The Calling of Emily Evans • Julia’s Last Hope
Roses for Mama • A Woman Named Damaris
They Called Her Mrs. Doc • The Measure of a Heart
A Bride for Donnigan • Heart of the Wilderness
Too Long a Stranger • The Bluebird and the Sparrow
A Gown of Spanish Lace • Drums of Change
www.janetteoke.com
*with Davis Bunn
© 1995 by Janette Oke
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
E-book edition created 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-5855-8736-0
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
With deep appreciation
to Dan Thornberg,
Bethany’s talented artist
who presents my “word-painted” characters
visually for readers, helping them feel
that the people of the books are
“folks” they know.
JANETTE OKE was born in Champion, Alberta, to a Canadian prairie farmer and his wife, and she grew up in a large family full of laughter and love. She is a graduate of Mountain View Bible College in Alberta, where she met her husband, Edward, and they were married in May of 1957. After pastoring churches in Indiana and Canada, the Okes spent some years in Calgary, where Edward served in several positions on college faculties while Janette continued her writing. She has written forty-eight novels for adults and another sixteen for children, and her book sales total nearly thirty million copies.
The Okes have three sons and one daughter, all married, and are enjoying their fifteen grandchildren. Edward and Janette are active in their local church and make their home near Didsbury, Alberta.
Contents
1. The Gift
2. Growth
3. A Family Outing
4. School Days
5. Teen Years
6. Changes
7. Parker
8. Moving On
9. A New Home
10. Adjusting
11. The Missing Element
12. Glenna
13. Surprise
14. The Ride
15. Questions
16. Jamie
17. Strength
18. Joseph
19. Library Woes
20. Back on Track
21. Illness
22. The Sermonette
23. Gaining Ground
24. The Decision
Chapter One
The Gift
In spite of an eerie stillness about the house, people seemed in an awful hurry whenever they passed from one room to another. Bustling—that’s what Mama calls it, observed three-year-old Berta, curled up in an overstuffed chair, waiting.
Waiting.
It seemed to her that she had been waiting forever. Why was it— whatever it was—taking so long?
She sighed a deep sigh, pushed back dark hair that wanted to hang in her eyes, and rearranged her sitting position.
If only—if only someone would stop and tell her what was happening.
She heard quick steps in the hall again and another scurrying person entered the room. It was Mrs. Pringle, a neighbor. Berta uncurled her legs and jumped to the rug.
“Where’s Mama?” Berta asked before the woman could hurry on by.
Mrs. Pringle seemed to slide to a stop. She looked at the young child and her eyes softened.
“She’s—she’s in her room. She—”
“Doesn’t she got the baby yet?” asked Berta impatiently.
“No. No—not yet. Soon. The doctor says soon—now.”
The answer was not what Berta wished to hear.
“Why does it take so long?” she asked, her voice filled with annoyance. “I wanna see Mama.”
“Now, you just try to be patient,” soothed the neighbor woman. “Your mother is—is quite busy at the moment.”
She turned purposefully away to fulfil whatever mission she had set out to do.
Berta turned, too—back to her overstuffed chair. She crawled up on it and tucked her feet back under herself. If Mama saw her, she’d scold. But Mama couldn’t see her. Not from the bedroom where she had gone to get the new baby—ages and ages ago. Berta took a bit of satisfaction from the fact that she was alone and able to put her feet up if she wished to. Yet guilt made her spread her skirts carefully over the tips of her shoes so they would be hidden from sight.
I don’t know why it takes so long, she stormed again to herself Mama’s been gone all day. All day. And Papa—Papa—
Berta had never been deserted in such a complete fashion in all her three years. She hated to be alone. She didn’t like the hushed suspense that hung around her. She didn’t like the hurrying of people who didn’t even stop to talk to her. And she didn’t think she was going to care much for that new baby, either. Already her cozy world had been changed.
Berta curled up against the back of the chair, stuffed fists against her eyes, and began to cry.
————
Even after the word finally came that she had a little sister, Berta was unable to see her mother.
“Not tonight,” her father told her as he cuddled her close on his lap and shared the good news.
“You have a baby sister. She’s strong and healthy—and—and beautiful.” And Berta had seen tears in her father’s eyes. It was the first time she had ever seen her father close to weeping. It disturbed her. She squirmed and turned her back on the uncomfortable sight. Was the new baby making her father cry, too?
“And Mama is fine. Just fine,” her father went on, his voice breaking.
Berta turned to stare into his face. If Mama was fine, what was making her papa’s eyes water and his voice sound funny?
“Why can’t I see her?” asked Berta.
“Mama is very tired tonight. She—”
“Why?” Berta was persistent. She stared into her father
’s ashen face.
“Getting a new baby is very hard work,” her father informed her quietly. “And Mama had some—some difficulty—”
“Then why didn’t she just leave it,” said Berta emphatically, her hands punctuating her words. She missed her mother.
Her father’s lips twisted with a hint of a smile. He pulled Berta back against his chest and brushed her hair away from her face.
“You wait until you see your new sister,” he said, and his mood seemed to lighten. “She’s a beautiful little girl. You’ll have so much fun. She’ll be a wonderful playmate.”
“But I wanna see Mama.”
“In the morning. First thing in the morning I will take you to see Mama.”
“Why can’t I see her now?”
“Because. Because she’s very tired. The doctor has given her some medicine to help her sleep. She needs to rest.”
“But I—”
“Don’t make trouble, Berta.”
Her father’s voice sounded—different, strained.
“Are you sick?” she asked quickly.
“No. No—just very, very tired,” he answered. “I think we all need a good sleep.” He glanced up at the wall calendar and seemed to muse aloud. “June sixth, eighteen ninety-four—the longest day of my life. It’s truly been a long ordeal.”
Berta had no idea what an ordeal was—but she understood that it was not a pleasant circumstance, and she linked it to the new baby.
———
Berta was taken to her mother’s room the next morning as promised. Her father took her by the hand and led her there. It did not feel quite right to be tippy-toeing through the house as though someone was sick or sleeping. She had so hoped that by morning things would be put back to normal.
Her mother usually was never still in bed at this time in the morning. Something about seeing her lying there brought fear to the small girl’s heart. She wanted to ask her father, but there was no time. They were standing beside the bed, looking at her mother, who lay pale and limp against the white bedclothes. Her eyes were closed. Her hair was scattered about her shoulders and the white pillow. Berta turned quickly to her father, her eyes large with questions. Before she could ask any of them her mother stirred.
“Berta,” she murmured. “Berta,” she said in just the same way she had always spoken the name. “Come up here beside me, dear,” and she patted the quilt with her hand.
Berta felt herself being lifted up and placed beside her mother on the bed. Then her mother’s arm was about her—patting her shoulder, giving her a hug.
“Have you seen your new sister?” asked her mama.
Berta shook her head. “I wanted to see you,” she said, her lips trembling.
The arm about her tightened. “I’ve missed you,” her mother said in a whispery voice.
“I missed you, too,” said Berta. “It took a long time—”
“Yes. Yes—it did take a long time. But it was worth it. Every minute of it. You’ll think so too. Just wait—wait until you see your new baby sister. She’s beautiful.”
Her mother smiled.
Berta squirmed, still uncomfortable about the new baby. She changed the subject. “It’s time to get up,” she announced to her mother. “We’re gonna have breakfast now.”
Berta couldn’t understand why her mother and father both chuckled.
“Mama won’t be getting up for breakfast today,” her father said. “She’ll have her breakfast in bed.”
“Why?” asked Berta.
“Mama needs to stay in bed and rest for several days,” her father explained. “It’s hard work getting a new baby sister. Mama needs lots of rest.”
Berta felt confused. Then angry. If it was such hard work—if it rearranged all of life—if it kept her mother from her—then why bother with a new baby?
She slipped from her mother’s arm and slid down the side of the bed. “I want breakfast,” she said without looking at her mother or her father, and she started for the door.
“Don’t you want to see your new sister?” called her mother after her.
Berta shook her head and kept right on walking. “I want breakfast,” she repeated. “I’m hungry.”
Her father followed her from the room.
———
There were many visits to her mother’s room. And Berta was introduced to the new baby sister. At first she found it hard to believe her eyes. This new baby was scarcely big enough to be seen on Mama’s arm. She was all bundled in blankets, the only thing showing being a tiny little face with an open mouth. Her mama would laugh and say that she was hungry, but it seemed to Berta that she was always hungry.
Berta was prompted to hold the baby on her own lap, with support from Mrs. Pringle, who was staying to care for the family. Mama smiled her pleasure and Mrs. Pringle clucked, and Berta looked down at the little bundle of blankets.
The baby’s head was moving, her open mouth twisting this way and that. Berta feared for a moment that the small infant might turn and bite her. Then the small, squinty eyes opened. It was the first that Berta had seen the baby with open eyes. It seemed that the new baby sister looked right into her face.
“Oh, look,” cried her mother joyfully. “She is looking at you. She wants to see who her big sister is.”
Mrs. Pringle joined in the little celebration. “Look at that. Just look at that,” she exclaimed. “She’s checking ya out—an’ that’s fer sure.”
For a moment—for one brief moment—something stirred within the heart of the little girl. The baby was looking at her. Her baby.
And then the squirming little mite turned her head and began to search with open mouth again. The little red face screwed up in protest and the noise that Berta already had learned to hate came again. The spell was broken. Berta pulled back from the baby and began to push her off her lap. Mrs. Pringle’s hands took over.
“She’s hungry,” the woman said as though an explanation was needed. And she took the baby, clucking and cooing as she went, over to her mother.
Berta scooted down from the chair and headed for the door. She was leaving. If there was no one in the kitchen she’d get herself a cookie from the cookie jar.
———
Mother was finally up and about the house once again. Mrs. Pringle went back to her home. Berta was prepared to welcome life back to normal again.
Only things didn’t go back to the way they had been. There was the new baby—and it seemed that the new baby needed an unbelievable amount of her mother’s time. There were bath times and feeding times and changing times and fussy times—and Berta found herself continually on her own. She didn’t like it. She missed her mother.
Oh, there still were times when she could help her mother in the kitchen. Still story times while little Glenna slept. Still snuggling on her father’s lap or shared visits to the woods or meadows. Still prayers at bedtime and hugs throughout the day—but it wasn’t the same.
Berta wished they would just send the baby back.
———
“Mama, look. She’s got my finger.”
Mrs. Berdette looked up from the sock she was darning and smiled at her two daughters.
“I think she likes her big sister,” she said softly.
Berta’s eyes shone as she looked at her baby sister. Glenna had grown already. But it was hard for Berta to remember how little she had once been. She still seemed so small. So helpless.
“Remember I told you that she would be a playmate almost before you know it?” asked Mrs. Berdette.
Berta nodded.
“Well … she’s already wanting to play.”
“I’ll get my tea set,” offered Berta generously.
“Oh no,” her mother quickly explained. “She’s not big enough for that yet.”
“What can she do?” asked Berta, her spirits dampened.
“Well … so far she can just smile … and hold fingers. But soon she will be able to hold small things—toys … her toes. She’ll kee
p on growing—and changing. And one day—before you know it—she will be able to sit up and play.”
It seemed to Berta that it was taking an awfully long time to get the playmate she had been promised. She pulled her finger out of the baby’s grip and went to pick out one of her books.
“Will you read to me?” she asked her mother.
“I’ll read after Glenna is down for her nap. She’s going to want to nurse soon. We wouldn’t have time to finish the story.”
Her mother laid aside the sock and yarn and reached up to massage tired neck muscles. She still looked weary.
Berta sat down on the floor rug with her book spread out in her lap. She’d picture-read the book to herself.
Chapter Two
Growth
“She’s lovely! Look at those curls. Those blue eyes. She’s just beautiful!”
Berta was used to the words. Whenever ladies came to the house or met her mother on the streets there were the same remarks. Everyone was always exclaiming over Glenna.
Berta shut out the voices and turned another page in her new picture book. Two small children played with a puppy dog on a wide green lawn. Berta wished she had a puppy. If she asked her mother, would a dog be allowed? She already had asked her father. He had made some little speech about it being bad timing. A puppy and a baby didn’t mix well, he had said with a smile. Berta cast a quick glance in the direction of small Glenna and the cooing women. Maybe one of the ladies could be persuaded to take Glenna home with her.
Then Berta let her gaze go to her mother. No. Mama would never allow it. She seemed totally taken with the new one. Her face glowed, her eyes shone. She was nodding in total agreement to all that the visitor was saying. Glenna was beautiful.
Berta returned to her book. She flipped another page, angry that the two book-children could have a puppy when all she had was a sister.
Molly, her mama’s part-time help, brought in a tea tray and cookies. Berta laid her book aside and joined the ladies still fussing over the baby. Glenna was smiling and cooing and blowing small baby bubbles as two visitors and her mama coaxed and chortled and oohed and aahed. Berta decided that she didn’t want cookies after all. She picked up her picture book and headed for the door.
