Spring's Gentle Promise

by Janette Oke

  I read the last paragraph again. “May God bless you, Josh, and grant to you the desires of your heart, whatever—”

  I stopped there. I had come into town to check on the Ford again. As my eyes traveled back over the pages of Camellia’s letter, the idea of a motor car paled in comparison.

  “Lord,” I admitted in a simple prayer, “I’ve got things a bit out of perspective. We need a car. I’ve weighed the purchase this way and that way, and for all involved it seems like the right move—but help me, Lord, not to get too wrapped up in it. A car is, after all, just a way to get places. These people— these Africans of Camellia’s—they are eternal souls. Brothers. Remind me to spend more time in prayer for them as Camellia goes to minister the gospel to them.”

  I carefully folded Camellia’s letter and tucked it in an inside pocket. I didn’t even bother to go on down the street to check on the arrival of the car. It would be here when it was here! Instead I turned Chester toward Lou’s. The children would welcome a little visit, and it would be nice to sit and share a cup of coffee with Lou.

  When we awakened the next morning the ground was covered with snow. I won’t pretend it didn’t give me a bit of a start. I had so hoped. But I dismissed the thought. Surely a car could be driven in a few inches of snow.

  When Matilda came downstairs, she didn’t seem to be able to dismiss the snow quite as easily.

  “Oh, no-o,” she wailed. “What will we do? What will we do, Josh? The snow is already here, but the motor car isn’t! Oh-h-h.” She crossed to the window, swept back Mary’s carefully ironed white ruffled curtain and groaned again. “We’ll have to learn to drive it in the snow. It would have been so much easier—”

  “Guess there’s no problem,” I was quick to cut in. “We don’t have the car yet anyway.”

  “But it’ll be here just any day now and the snow . . .”

  But the snow had all disappeared by noon, and two days later the Ford arrived. I thought I had prepared myself for the role of motor-car owner, but when the news reached me I felt a thrill go all through my body. This was followed by a cold sweat. My hands got sticky and my mouth dry and my knees fairly shook with excitement—and just a little fear.

  We hitched up the team, and Grandpa and Uncle Charlie drove with me on into town. I couldn’t just ride Chester to pick the car up because I needed to drive it back.

  We drove right up to Mr. Hickson’s, and I pretended nonchalance as I stepped into his office and said I was there to pick up the car. I had the rest of the payment in my coat pocket, pinned in so I wouldn’t accidentally lose it. I began to carefully unpin the coat in order to get at my money, but Mr. Hickson rushed right on by me, calling as he went, “It’s this way, Josh, an’ she’s a beaut! Come on in an’ git a look at ’er.”

  I followed, with Grandpa and Uncle Charlie right on my heels.

  She was a beaut all right. Never had I seen so much shiny metal. There she stood, black paint gleaming and window glass sparkling. I slowly sucked in my breath. She was beautiful!

  I was quite familiar with the few motor cars on our town streets. Several of them were quite fancy, too, but to me this Ford—this car that was mine—was the nicest of the lot.

  I moved forward and ran a hand over the shiny fender. Mr. Hickson opened a door.

  “An’ look in here,” he urged. “See them leather seats. Looka that. Looka that.”

  I moved to look. Sure enough, leather seats—finest black leather one ever saw. I let out the breath I had seemed to be holding. I heard Uncle Charlie say something to Grandpa and Grandpa answer, “Well, whoo-ee!” and I wheeled to look at them. Both of them were grinning. Standin’ there a gazin’ at that car like they’ve never seen nothin’ like it before, I chuckled to myself.

  “Whoo-ee,” said Grandpa again, and he lifted a hand to stroke the black leather. Uncle Charlie’s mustache was twitching. He reached out one gnarled hand to touch the shining glass of the window. For a moment I wondered if there could ever be anything more exciting in life than this—standing there getting a good look at your first car and brand new at that.

  I came back down to earth in time to hear Mr. Hickson saying, “Just a few things to take care of, an’ you can drive her right on out of here.”

  Mr. Hickson was moving back toward his little office, and I turned to follow, though I was feeling a moment of panic. I could “drive her right on out,” said Mr. Hickson. But surely Mr. Hickson knew I had never driven a car before. Surely he wouldn’t just put me in it and expect—

  “Ya got some ’struction papers with this here new Ford?” Grandpa was asking Mr. Hickson very matter-of-factly, and I knew I should have asked the question.

  “Of course. Of course,” Mr. Hickson answered, nodding his head vigorously. “Everything thet ya need to know is right in here in the office.”

  Whew! Maybe I wouldn’t embarrass myself after all.

  “Joe Hess, down the street, has got him a Ford. Much like this one, only not as new,” Mr. Hickson was saying. “He’d be glad to come on over here and take Josh for his first run.”

  “Thet’d be good. Real good,” Grandpa agreed. Then added quickly, “Just till he gets the hang of it. He’ll catch on real quick. Been driving thet big ol’ tractor now fer quite a spell.”

  Mr. Hickson nodded his head again. “I’ll send Mickey right over fer Joe,” and making good on his word he called a young fellow from the back room and sent him on his way.

  For some reason the rest of them seemed to have forgotten that I was the buyer. Grandpa and Mr. Hickson were busy making plans without me. But they soon turned back to me when it came time for the final payment to be made. I pulled the money from my pocket and Mr. Hickson counted it out.

  “Right,” he said. “Just right.”

  That was no news to me. I had checked the money out carefully—three times—before I left home.

  By the time we finished with the paperwork Joe was there. He seemed properly impressed with the new car and walked around and around it, studying each feature, especially those that his older model did not have. He didn’t say much, but he grinned and he admired and he ran a hand over the black metal now and then.

  We all climbed in for our first spin around town. I sat up front with Joe so I might learn all the procedures for driving. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie settled in the back. It was hard to tell who was the most excited.

  Mr. Hickson gave it a good crank, we started off with a bit of a jump, and I heard Grandpa gasp, but then we moved out onto Main Street past all the stores and people.

  We made quite an impression, you can be sure of that. Heads turned, people stopped, store owners came out of their shops, curtains fluttered at windows and dogs barked and chased us on down the road.

  The farther we went the faster we went. It wasn’t long until we were whizzing along. It fairly took the breath out of me, but Joe seemed to know just what he was doing, and he maneuvered the car like it was no problem at all.

  When we got out in open country he suggested that I give it a try. I was so nervous that my hands shook, but I crawled behind the steering wheel and did just like Joe had showed me. Well, almost. I let the clutch out a bit too quickly, and the Ford bucked like she’d been spurred. It killed the motor and Joe had to get out and give it a crank again. The next time worked better and soon I was steering down the road like I’d been driving all my life.

  By the time we got back to town and dropped Joe off, I was getting pretty good. We decided to wheel around to Nat and Lou’s and show off just a bit. I was hoping Nat would be home. A car like this would sure save a pastor some calling time.

  Nat was there all right, and we had to show him everything on the Ford that moved. He studied it over and over again, making contented clicking noises and grinning from ear to ear. I felt my buttons pushing at my shirt front. I felt pretty proud and even more grown up than when the farm was signed over to me.

  At last we pulled away from our admirers and headed back out on the stree
t again, Jon howling behind us. He wanted to go too. I had already taken them all for a little spin, but I guess that wasn’t good enough for young Jon. He wanted to go wherever the car was going.

  When we got back to Hickson’s, Grandpa climbed out and went to untie the horses from the hitching rail. Uncle Charlie began to climb out too, maybe a little reluctantly. I guess Grandpa must have sensed it. “Why don’t you jest go on home with Josh?” he said. “Don’t take two of us to drive this poky ol’ team.”

  Uncle Charlie didn’t argue. He settled back on that leather seat and took a big breath of the autumn air. Then he pulled out his pocket watch and sat studying the face of it.

  “Okay, Josh,” he said, and there was a glint in his eye. “Let’s see how long it takes ’er to make the trip to the farm.”

  I grinned, then nodded. I put the Ford into gear and we started out. Once we cleared the town streets I opened her up a bit more. The breeze fairly whipped in the open windows. Way back at the edge of town we could see Grandpa just turning the team and buggy onto the road for home. Then the dust from our wheels blocked him from view, and Uncle Charlie and I were off.

  We didn’t try to set any records. I drove as sensibly as I knew how. But even with my caution at the wheel, the trip home took only eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Uncle Charlie chuckled gleefully as he held the watch out for me to see.

  We turned into our lane. I could hardly wait to show the girls the new car. Then I looked with dismay at the dust that already clung to her shiny exterior and wished there was some way I could quickly polish her up before the introduction. But I realized that would never work, for already Mary was running to meet us.

  CHAPTER 6

  A Caller

  I HAD PLENTY OF time to show Mary the car, take her for a ride, and wash and polish all the metal and leather before Grandpa pulled into the yard with the team.

  I had learned one lesson on the way home. The feel of the fresh autumn air blowing in the open windows might be invigorating, but on our dusty country roads it was not practical. I decided that from now on when the car was on the move, the windows would be kept up. I said as much to Uncle Charlie as he watched me polish and clean.

  After Grandpa had gone off to Mary’s kitchen with the groceries she had ordered, I settled the team and went back to shining the car. Reluctant to leave the new Ford, I was finally coaxed into the kitchen for tea and cornbread.

  As soon as the kitchen clock told us that school would be letting out, we all climbed into the car and set off to pick up Matilda.

  “I can hardly wait to see her face when we pull into the school yard,” Mary said warmly.

  I drove very slowly. I didn’t want to get the car all dusty again before Matilda had a chance to see it. Even so, we got a bit ahead of ourselves according to Uncle Charlie’s pocket watch and had to pull to the side of the road just over the hill from the schoolhouse. We didn’t want to arrive before Matilda was free to dismiss her students.

  At last Uncle Charlie gave us the go-ahead, and I hopped out to give the car a crank while Grandpa pulled and pushed the necessary buttons and levers. Joe had said a man could start the car all by himself, but we weren’t sure we had the hang of it yet.

  We met some of Matilda’s students as we chugged up the last hill to the school yard, so we knew that school was over for the day.

  If we had expected Matilda to be excited, we weren’t disappointed. As we pulled into the school yard, we saw her appear at the window. She probably wondered what the strange sound was. For a moment she stood as though stunned, her eyes wide and hands over her mouth. At Mary’s wild waving, Matilda finally came to her senses. She fairly exploded from the door and took the front steps as though they weren’t even there.

  “It’s here! It’s here!” she was screaming as she ran toward us. “Oh, Josh, it’s here.” I decided not to point out that I was well aware of that fact.

  She never even stopped to admire the shiny metal I had just worked so hard to polish. She didn’t look at the gleaming glass windows. She never slowed down for a moment, just hurled herself at the door, climbed right over Mary in one swift motion and shuffled to settle herself right between the two of us.

  “Show me!” she squealed. “Quickly—show me.”

  “You can’t see much scrunched in here,” I said a bit sourly, trying to shove over enough to give Matilda room. “You gotta do most of your lookin’ from the outside,” and I moved to open my door.

  But Matilda was shaking her head so vigorously that her curls were coming unpinned. “No,” she wailed, grabbing my hand from the door handle. “Show me how to drive.”

  Grandpa snorted and Uncle Charlie chuckled. Mary just shrugged her slim shoulders and smiled. I was stunned. I sure wasn’t prepared to give Matilda a driving lesson in my new car. I’d barely learned how myself. I stalled for time.

  “We’ve come to take you home,” I informed her. “Are you ready to go?”

  For a moment she seemed not to understand. She took a few gulps of air and then answered me almost sanely, “No, I have to get my books and clean the blackboards and lock the school.”

  We all piled out. Mary cleaned the blackboards while Matilda gathered her books. Uncle Charlie and Grandpa studied a map on the wall, but I just wandered around picturing the room as it had been when I was a student there.

  In the row over by the windows had sat Avery, then me, then Willie—I could see him yet. His mop of unruly hair spilling over his forehead, his freckles scattered across the tip of his nose, his face screwed up in a frown as he worked on an arithmetic problem.

  I turned abruptly and walked from the room. Even yet the memories were too painful.

  “I’ll wait outside,” I said with as steady a voice as I could manage and I closed the schoolhouse door rather firmly on the memories.

  It didn’t take Matilda long and we all climbed back in the

  car and started down the country road.

  We rearranged our load. Mary climbed in the backseat between Grandpa and Uncle Charlie. It was a bit crowded but they didn’t seem to mind. Matilda rode in the front by me. Her eyes did not travel over the polished leather upholstery. Instead, they stayed glued to the steering wheel and the controls, watching every movement I made. I knew Matilda would never let me rest until she had been taught how to drive my car.

  However, I was not ready to share the driving with anyone just yet. Not even Matilda.

  “Why don’t you settle back and enjoy the ride?” I urged her. “Remember, it won’t be every day that we come and pick you up from school.”

  I guess she got the message. She sighed and did sit back. Sort of. Though I could still feel her eyes on my hands.

  It wasn’t long before I relented and did give Matilda a few driving lessons. We did not venture out on the road, only up and down our long farm lane. She caught on quickly, I must admit. I offered to teach Mary how to drive, too, but she just smiled and said she would just as soon let me do it.

  The car was certainly an asset and time saver in driving back and forth to town. We looked forward to the family drive each Sunday. It was a bit crowded, but no one complained.

  And then the winter snows came deep enough that the car was no longer practical. I drove it into the shed I had built for it and we started using the team again. Never had the trip to town seemed longer than when we were forced to travel it again by sleigh.

  The dog was making an awful commotion one evening, and we all rose from our places to look out the window. We hadn’t been expecting any callers. The evening was chilly, but not inhuman. There was no sharp wind blowing and the moon was bright. Still, we couldn’t figure out why anyone would be making house calls on horseback at such an hour. I had a momentary pang that something might be wrong in town and Uncle Nat had come to inform us.

  But it wasn’t Uncle Nat. Relieved, I realized the traveler was a stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger. I had seen him once or twice, and from the greetings later in our ki
tchen, I came to realize that both Mary and Matilda had met him before.

  But when Grandpa had answered his knock and opened the door, he didn’t seem to know who the young man was. He extended his hand cordially anyway and offered for the young fella to come in.

  “Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Grandpa was saying as he shook the hand firmly, and the man answered cheerily enough, “Sanders. Will Sanders. We bought the place just over yonder,” and he nodded his head to the east.

  “Sanders,” repeated Grandpa. “Thought I’d met Sanders.” Grandpa looked a bit perplexed. “Thet weren’t yer pa, were it?”

  “No, sir. My oldest brother. He bought the place. My pa’s been gone for nigh unto seven years now.”

  “Sorry to hear thet,” Grandpa said sincerely. “Come in an’ sit ya down. Is there something we can be a helpin’ ya with?”

  The young man smiled easily. “Thank you, no,” he answered evenly. “Just callin’.” He made no move toward a chair.

  All of this conversation had taken place while the rest of us looked on. I guess Will figured it was time to change all that. His eyes traveled around the room. He nodded briefly to Uncle Charlie, studied me for a moment and then turned his gaze toward the two girls. That was the first he smiled. He reached to remove his hat and with a slight nod in the girls’ direction said, “Hello, Miss Turley, Miss Hopkins.”

  That was when I began to study the man before me.

  A little taller than me, his shoulders were broader, hips slimmer. Even in the lamplight I could see the waves of dark hair and the deep-set dark eyes. His jaw was rather square and his nose straight. When he smiled he showed a row of even, white teeth. Even I was smart enough to know that ladies would consider him a good-looking man. I stirred uneasily as Mary and Matilda acknowledged his greeting. Both of them had a flush on their cheeks and shine to their eyes.