The Bluebird and the Sparrow

by Janette Oke

  Berta breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was glad her mother didn’t plan to remarry. She wouldn’t have liked another man to take her father’s place.

  “And what am I to do?” she asked more sharply than she intended. “With you at Granna’s and Glenna married—what happens to me?”

  It wasn’t fair. Her accusation of desertion hung heavily in the room between them even though she had not really spoken the words.

  “That—that is why I haven’t made a decision,” her mother hurriedly tried to explain.

  “So—” said Berta rising from her chair and crossing to stare down at the burning log in the fireplace. “I am the hindrance to your—plans? I—”

  “Berta,” spoke her mother with a sob in her voice. “You are no hindrance. You are—”

  Berta felt a hand on her arm and knew that her mother stood close beside her. She knew there would be tears in her mother’s eyes. Well, so be it. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all that they had been planning—the two of them—planning how they would change their lives—how they would move on—and just leave her to—to muddle her own way through it all.

  “Berta,” said her mother again, pleadingly. “No one has made plans—yet. We need to talk about it. Decide. We need to do what is best—for all of us.”

  Her voice sounded choked. Berta was afraid her mother was going to weep.

  “I need to think,” Berta stated, pulling away from her mother’s hand, and she left for the bedroom she still shared with Glenna.

  In her severe agitation Berta wished she had a room of her own. Some place of privacy. Some place of quiet. She hoped with all her heart that Glenna would not come bursting in, her cheeks flushed by the chilling wind, her eyes sparkling with memories of her ride home with Parker.

  Berta buried her face in her pillow and closed her eyes. She had to think. But she didn’t want to think. She had to get back control. But she had never had control. Not really. They had fooled her. She had thought that with Father gone she was now in charge of the family. But they had been making plans—all along—secretly. Plans that did not even include her. She ached with the desire to cry. To scream out against the world that always seemed to hurt her.

  But she did not cry. She refused to. She just lay there in her silence, aching and angry.

  At last she rose and pushed her pillow firmly to where it belonged on her bed.

  “All right,” she said aloud as she straightened her shoulders. “If they don’t need me—I don’t need them either. They can make their plans. From now on I’ll make plans to suit myself. They can go their way—I’ll go mine. And I’ll do just fine—without them.”

  Chapter Seven

  Parker

  Supper was a quiet meal. Even Glenna, who usually chattered happily, seemed to sense the mood of the two others at the table and was unusually subdued and pensive. For her part, Berta had made a personal decision. She would let things continue as they were until Glenna had finished her school year, and then she would make her own plans. Perhaps Miss Phillips would know of a room where she could board. Surely the salary that she made at her job would cover the rent. She would no longer need to be paying toward the support of her family.

  Mrs. Berdette, too, seemed to be miles away. What are her thoughts? Berta wondered, but she did not ask. Did not even enter into conversation beyond “Pass the butter, please.”

  In spite of the continued fury of the storm, Parker came to call. Berta lifted her eyes from the pages of the book she had brought from the library. She saw Glenna’s eager greeting and Parker’s ready response. With heavy heart she realized that her mother was likely right. Parker was sure to be asking for Glenna’s hand before many months passed.

  “Good evening,” Parker addressed her politely.

  Berta was sure he had no idea how his solicitude set her heart to racing.

  Don’t be a fool, she scolded herself. He is Glenna’s beau.

  She managed to answer his comments without giving away her true feelings, and then when she felt she had exchanged enough conversation to be seen as not running away, she excused herself.

  “Oh, don’t go. Stay and chat,” invited Glenna.

  Berta indicated the book in her hand. “I am at a most interesting spot.” She managed a slight smile. “I’m afraid I can’t wait to see just how it will turn out.”

  “But we don’t want to drive you away from the warm fire,” spoke Parker. “Glenna and I will be happy to visit in the kitchen if—”

  “No. No, that’s not necessary. I have a warm robe—and slippers. I’ll not miss the fire.”

  And Berta hastened to leave the room before they could protest further.

  “I think I’ll retire early,” she heard her mother saying. “It’s been a long day. I find I am quite weary.”

  Berta paused in her departure. She wasn’t sure that it was proper to leave the young girl and her suitor alone in the living room.

  “I’ll not be staying late,” assured Parker.

  Berta hurried on down the hall.

  The book had lost its fascination. She flipped through the pages, hardly understanding what she was reading. At last she tossed it aside and began her preparations for retiring.

  Before she could even climb between the cozy flannel sheets she heard Glenna humming her way down the hall.

  As she entered the room her eyes turned to Berta. “Shall I bank the fires?” she asked.

  That had always been Berta’s job.

  “Parker gone already?” asked Berta rather than answering.

  “He thought it best,” responded Glenna, then followed with, “He always frets about my reputation. It’s so sweet.”

  Berta said nothing.

  “Do you wish me to bank the fire?” Glenna asked again.

  “No, I will,” replied Berta and slipped her feet back into her slippers and tied her heavy robe close about her.

  “Mama is already sleeping. I peeked in on her,” said Glenna.

  Berta looked up. She nodded.

  “Berta—is something wrong with Mama?”

  Berta looked at her younger sister evenly. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well … I—I don’t know. She just seems—worried. Preoccupied.”

  “I—I guess she has a lot on her mind,” responded Berta as she moved toward the door.

  “Like what?” asked Glenna frankly.

  Berta turned to look at her. There was no way she was going to say to Glenna that their mother expected her to soon receive a proposal of marriage from her gentleman caller. Nor was she prepared to say that she intended to move out on her own at her earliest opportunity. Instead she said, “Granna isn’t doing well on her own. Uncle John thinks Mama should move in with her.”

  Glenna stared.

  “Why haven’t I been told?” she asked.

  “I hadn’t been told either,” Berta shot back. “Until tonight. Mama told me just before you came in from choring.”

  “So that’s why the silence,” mused Glenna.

  Berta nodded.

  “So we are to stay on here alone?” continued Glenna.

  “No. No—the farm will be sold.”

  “Sold?” Glenna sounded incredulous.

  Berta nodded.

  “But that’s—it was Papa’s pride. He—”

  “It only makes sense,” Berta said. “It’s ridiculous for us to be tending cows and chickens and a team we never use.”

  She moved toward the door again.

  Again Glenna stopped her. “Are we all to live with Granna, then?”

  “Please, Glenna,” said Berta in exasperation. “I don’t have the answers. I don’t even know what Mama is going to decide to do. It all will need to be worked out when—when the time comes.”

  Glenna looked like she was about to cry. She dipped her head quickly and when she looked back up she was biting her lip and blinking her long dark lashes.

  “I hate change,” she whispered. “I hate it. It is so—so unsettling.”<
br />
  Berta turned away.

  You have no idea just how unsettling it will be, she thought to herself. But you’ll be the lucky one.

  ————

  At least three times a week Parker came to call. All through the winter months and on into the spring he appeared at their front door, hat in his hand. Three times a week Berta excused herself from the room and went to the kitchen to sew or to her bedroom to read.

  The pain had grown less with the quiet knowledge that what her mama had said was surely true. Parker would one day—soon—be Glenna’s husband. Berta trained herself to think of the young man that way.

  But he still had little ways of unknowingly bringing her sorrow. Like the time he brought her a simple bouquet of fresh spring lilacs. And the time he returned from a trip with a lace-trimmed hankie.

  “I thought maybe you had lost all your others,” he quipped, reminding her of their first introduction.

  Berta flushed.

  Parker was always doing thoughtful little things for their mother as well. He took her for Sunday outings along with Glenna. He offered to take Berta along too, but she always found some reason to be excused.

  And he brought fancy chocolates and colorful cottons for embroidery work and even little jokes and amusing stories that he clipped from newspapers. It would have been hard for Mrs. Berdette to find anything wrong with Parker Oliver.

  “I would like the pleasure of taking my three favorite ladies out for dinner next Saturday night,” Parker announced one Thursday as he was about to take his leave.

  Glenna flushed her pleasure, the deep dimple showing in each cheek.

  Mrs. Berdette looked up from her sewing, her eyes taking on a special shine.

  “That would be lovely. Thank you,” she replied.

  Parker turned his eyes to Berta.

  “I—I’m not sure. I might—”

  “Please,” Parker surprised her by pleading. “I would so much like it to be a family dinner.”

  And you fully intend to put an end to our family, was her unspoken retort.

  “Please, Berta,” begged Glenna, moving up beside her and slipping an arm around her waist. “Please—this once.”

  “I’ll … see,” said Berta.

  That was as close to a promise as she would come.

  ————

  Try as she might, Berta could find no good reason to refuse to accompany the family to the local hotel for dinner. She both looked forward to a night out and dreaded the event.

  He’s going to ask Mama for permission to marry, I just know it, she told herself. Glenna finishes school next month.

  Parker’s buggy drew up to the front hitching rail promptly at six, the agreed time, and the three ladies were at the door ready to meet him. He let his gaze travel from one to another.

  “How lovely you look,” he said with sincerity, including more than Glenna in his comment. “I will be the envy of every gentleman in town tonight.”

  Glenna smiled on her mother and sister and took Parker’s proffered arm. “You tease,” she laughed, “but we love it.”

  Each lady was carefully handed up into the buggy, and then they were off. In spite of her dark mood, Berta found herself enjoying the drive into town.

  They were escorted into the hotel dining room by the attendant and seated at a table with fine white linen and gleaming silver.

  “My,” exclaimed Mrs. Berdette in appreciation, “I wasn’t aware that we had such elegant dining in our town. It’s been years since I’ve sat at such a table.”

  Parker did not bother to explain that he had made special arrangements at his father’s hotel.

  Berta’s eyes grew larger with each course of the meal. What an awful lot of trouble to go to just to impress a girl’s family before asking for her hand in marriage, she thought to herself. Well, it will do little to sway me.

  And she steeled herself for what she was sure would come.

  But the evening continued with no mention made of upcoming wedding plans. Parker included all three of them in his lively conversation, bringing laughter with his amusing tales and good-humored comments.

  The evening passed much more quickly than any of the three would have liked. Before she knew it, Berta was being escorted from the dining room with its glowing candles and reflecting mirrors.

  “This has been a delightful evening,” Mrs. Berdette exclaimed sincerely.

  “We must do it again,” said Parker. “Soon.”

  So he is going to wait until we get home before he states his intention? thought Berta. That’s really not very sporting of him. What are we to say after being plied with veal cutlets and fresh peach pie?

  But Parker did not even invite himself in when they reached the house. Glenna did. “Aren’t you stopping?” she asked sweetly when he seemed to be saying his good-night at the door.

  “Not tonight,” he answered her. “I’ll be by to pick you up for church in the morning.”

  They all expressed their thanks and moved on into the living room after Parker took his leave.

  “What a fine young man,” her mother exclaimed as she drew off her gloves.

  “Isn’t he wonderful?” said Glenna, her eyes full of love. “I am just so—so blessed.”

  Berta frowned and went to poke in the fireplace. The flame had gone out, but it was warm enough in the evenings now that they didn’t need it. She had no intention of building the fire again. Still she poked. And as she poked she puzzled. What had the evening been all about? Certainly it had been—enjoyable. A special treat for three women who rarely got out. But what had it really been about?

  She was still shaking her head in puzzlement as she went to her room to remove her best gown and put on her robe.

  Little girl, she mentally addressed her young sister, you are far more blessed than you even know.

  ————

  The question was eventually asked. Parker chose to talk with Mrs. Berdette in private before he took Glenna out for another special dinner. Berta was let in on the secret, but Glenna was totally unsuspecting.

  “She thinks it is simply a birthday dinner,” Mrs. Berdette confided to Berta, and she beamed at the thought of the pleasure ahead for her younger daughter.

  Berta tossed her head. “Surely she’s not such a simpleton as that,” she exclaimed. “Everyone else in town has smelled it coming for months.”

  “Glenna is sweetly naïve,” her mother contended.

  Berta let the comment pass.

  “So how long is he willing to wait?” she asked her mother.

  “Not long, I’m afraid. He wishes to be married in August.”

  “August! That hardly gives us time to prepare,” protested Berta.

  “Time enough,” said her mother.

  “Why is he in such a rush?” demanded Berta.

  “He plans to start classes in the fall.”

  “Classes. For what?”

  “You don’t know? I thought everyone knew. He’s going to be a doctor.”

  Berta stared, openmouthed. Why hadn’t she been told? Even Glenna had said nothing about such plans.

  “You didn’t know?” asked Mrs. Berdette again.

  “No. No, I didn’t know,” replied Berta. Then added quickly. “Did Glenna?”

  Mrs. Berdette looked up quickly, her hand with the needle and trailing thread stilled. “Of course,” she replied. “But I think Glenna expected him to finish his training before he considered marriage.”

  “And why doesn’t he?” asked Berta tartly.

  “He’ll have to go away for the training. They don’t teach medicine at our little university here in Allsburg.”

  “Go away?” Berta didn’t like that thought. “Why doesn’t he go alone and leave Glenna here—until he’s finished?”

  Mrs. Berdette let the question go unanswered for a while. At last she spoke. “Glenna is a beautiful girl,” she said honestly. “I don’t think any man would be comfortable taking a chance on waiting.”

  �
�Just because she’s—she’s pretty doesn’t mean she needs to be fickle,” replied Berta, her tone sharp.

  “Fickle? Glenna?” Mrs. Berdette laughed softly. “Glenna couldn’t be fickle if she put her whole mind to it,” she said. Then she continued. “I’ve always been so thankful to God that she didn’t get spoiled. With all the attention she has constantly had—she didn’t let it go to her head. I used to pray and pray—asking God for wisdom in raising her—asking for her heart to be kept pure—her mind free from conceit.”

  Her eyes were moist with unshed tears.

  “Well, He has answered me,” she continued. “Abundantly. I’ve never met a sweeter, more giving person in my life. Her father would be so proud of his little girl.”

  Berta stirred uneasily. All the praise for Glenna made her totally uncomfortable. All the things her mother was declaring Glenna to be, Berta knew that she, herself, was not. No wonder her mother had always favored Glenna.

  Yes, it was true. Berta had never brought it to the forefront of her mind before. But her mother clearly and unapologetically favored the younger girl.

  “How will you ever get along without her?” she asked, letting sarcasm color her words.

  Mrs. Berdette looked up. “I won’t get along without her,” she replied simply. “She’ll still be my daughter. I’ll just finally be blessed with a son.”

  “Humph!” snorted Berta. “We’ll see,” and she rose to her feet and hastily escaped the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Moving On

  The morning of August tenth dawned clear and bright. Glenna’s wedding day was the first thought that entered Berta’s mind as her eyes opened.

  “Mama prayed for a beautiful day,” said an excited voice from across the room.

  Glenna stood at the open window, her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders, her hand sweeping back the curtain.

  “Didn’t you?” mumbled Berta in return.

  “Oh no,” said Glenna, turning slightly. “I wouldn’t have dared to—to be so selfish. God has given me so much already.”