Spring's Gentle Promise

by Janette Oke

  I remembered Aunt Lou sharing with me how Gramps had walked into town after my first puppy was killed and searched the town streets until he had found me another puppy. I remembered too how small Pixie was, and how Gramps had told me that she would need special care and love.

  Pixie had been my little love-gift, that’s what she had been. It was Gramps special love for me that prompted the giving, and it was Pixie’s and my special love for each other that had helped us share so many things over the years.

  And now she’s gone. I had known all along that one day it would happen, but I had just kept pretending in my heart that I could hold it off somehow.

  I finally stopped my digging, wiped the frozen tears from my cheeks and went to put away the pick. I would still need the shovel.

  Mary had the box all ready. She had lined it with some soft material that made Pixie look as though she were all cuddled in and snug as she liked to be. The lid was next to it, and I knew Mary expected me to put that in place after I’d told my little dog goodbye one last time.

  I ran my hand over the silken fur and then placed the lid on the box. I pulled on my heavy mitts and looked at Mary.

  She had wiped away all her tears, but I could still see the sadness in her face.

  “I thought you might like to be alone,” she said softly to explain why she didn’t have her coat on. I nodded, surprised that she knew me so well so soon, and then I picked up the little box and went back to the garden.

  After I had completed my sorrowful task, I stayed outside for a while finding little chores I could do. Mary didn’t come looking for me. When I finally decided I was ready to face the family and go on with life, I went back to the kitchen. I could smell the coffee brewing even before I opened the door, and I realized just how chilled I was.

  Mary’s eyes met mine and we spoke to each other even without words. She smiled then, just a tiny little one, and I gave her a bit of a nod.

  Uncle Charlie reappeared. We tried to talk normally at the table. Didn’t seem much to talk about, save the weather. It worked for a time. By then I had thawed out a bit and was feeling some better, though I knew it would be a long, long time until I got over my hurt. Mary knew it too. I could feel her love and understanding even when a whole room separated us. It was a marvel, this being man and wife. I began to wonder how I had ever functioned before Mary had changed my whole life. I hoped and prayed I would never need to function without her again.

  For the first time in my life I began to realize what Grandpa had suffered over the years without Grandma—and why Gramps had commented to me about being anxious to get to heaven. It gave me a new respect and sympathy. And I think it opened up a whole new understanding of the word love for me too.

  CHAPTER 18

  Life Goes On

  I CAME IN FROM the morning chores expecting breakfast on the table as usual. It was—after a fashion. The pot of rolled oats still simmered on the stove, the coffee bubbled in the coffeepot. Thick-sliced bread was toasted, the table set, but it didn’t take sharp eyes to know that something was amiss.

  “Where’s Mary?” I asked Uncle Charlie, who gave the lumpy porridge another stir while Grandpa poured the coffee.

  “She’s not feeling well,” Uncle Charlie informed me and went on quickly when he saw the look in my eyes. “Nothin’ serious. Jest a tummy upset, she said. Bit of the flu, I ’spect.”

  I didn’t even wait to remove my outside wraps but headed for the stairs.

  Mary was lying on the bed in her clothes, so I knew she had been up.

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured me wanly. “Just—”

  I’d already heard that little speech from Uncle Charlie. I sat on the bed and laid a hand on her forehead.

  “I don’t have a fever, Josh,” Mary protested. “I already checked it myself.”

  “You feel hot to me,” I argued.

  “As cold as your hand is from chorin’, anything that isn’t freezing would feel hot,” Mary reminded me. “Go on,” she prompted. “Go have your breakfast.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “It would be pointless,” insisted Mary. “I’d just bring it right back up again.”

  “Could I bring—”

  “Josh,” said Mary with a bit of impatience, “I can’t even stand the smell of it.”

  I tucked a blanket about her and left her then, though I was still worried even with her assurances that she’d be up soon.

  True to her word, Mary came down later. She still looked pale, but she insisted that she felt just fine. She proved it by taking over her kitchen chores.

  For the next three mornings the scene was repeated. I was getting kind of tired of Uncle Charlie’s version of our breakfast porridge—even though I’d eaten it most of my life. I was also getting very concerned about Mary. One morning she didn’t make an appearance until almost noon, and even then she looked as if she should be back in bed. I tried to talk her into staying in for the day so she could lick this thing, whatever it was. But who was I to argue with a woman who’s made up her mind?

  When it happened the fifth morning in a row, I decided something must be done. Without saying anything to Mary, I saddled Chester and headed off to town. I figured it was about time Doc was consulted about the matter.

  Doc arrived at the farm soon after I had returned home again. By then Mary was up and about. She looked pale and often turned her face away when she lifted the lid to stir a pot, as though she couldn’t bear the sight or smell of whatever she was cooking.

  Mary looked surprised when I ushered Doc into the kitchen. Then she set about putting on the coffeepot, probably assuming that he had just popped in to warm up on his return from a neighborhood call. Doc was content to wait, visiting with Grandpa and Uncle Charlie, but I could see that he was watching Mary carefully out of the corner of his eye.

  “Hear you haven’t been feeling so well, young lady,” Doc said as he stirred in some cream into his cup.

  “A bit of a flu bug, I guess,” Mary answered off-handedly as she passed him a plate of cookies.

  “Maybe,” agreed Doc. “It sure is making the rounds again. But Josh thought I should check it out, just in case.”

  All eyes turned to me. I was especially aware of Mary’s.

  “It’s not always flu when the stomach acts up,” Doc went on. “Josh is right,” he said in answer to Mary’s expression. “No harm in checking.”

  After we had finished our coffee, Doc sent Mary up to our room to prepare for the examination.

  “Do—do you think it’s serious?” I ventured before Doc went up to join her.

  He put his hand on my shoulder as he rose. “No point in worrying about it till you have something to worry about, Josh,” he said, while Grandpa and Uncle Charlie nodded solemnly in agreement.

  He wasn’t gone long. When he appeared in the doorway I was all ready for the explanation of Mary’s illness. I started to ask but Doc stopped me. “Mary is waiting for you,” he told me, and I felt my heart constrict with fear. I ran up the stairs two at a time and flung the door open.

  Mary was propped up on two pillows. Instead of pale, now her cheeks were a trifle flushed and—I crossed quickly to her after swinging the door closed behind me. I wanted privacy if I had to hear the worst.

  “Sit down, Josh,” Mary said gently. I did so and took her hand in mine.

  “Is it—? Are you really sick?” I managed.

  “No,” Mary answered and her eyes were shining. “I’m just fine.”

  “Then—then—?”

  Mary began to smile, then giggle. Here I was about to die of worry and she sat there giggling like a silly schoolgirl.

  “Josh,” she began, and took a deep breath to try to calm herself. She seemed about to explode with excitement. “How would you like—like to be a father?”

  “I’d like it,” I stammered. “You know I would. We’ve talked about it—”

  “Good,” squealed Mary, “because you are going to be one!”
>
  Her words didn’t make much sense, but the way she was pulling on my arm and beaming made me realize that something good was happening—something extraordinary. I started sorting through the conversation again, looking for the answer and finally it got through to me.

  “You mean—now?” I yelled back, grabbing her by both shoulders.

  “Well—well—” she teased, but I had already jumped up from the bed. I ran down the hall and bounded down the stairs two or three at a time. “We’re gonna have a baby!” I shouted to Grandpa and Uncle Charlie, who were both on their feet and hollering along with me before I could make full circle. Then I ran back up the stairs again and grabbed Mary. I held her close and we laughed and rejoiced together.

  I finally stopped rocking her back and forth and held her at arms’ length. “You didn’t know—?” I questioned, gazing into her face. Somehow I thought that women automatically knew these things.

  “I suspected,” she admitted, “but I still wasn’t sure.”

  “When?” was my next question.

  Mary screwed up her face. “The timing’s not great,” she said slowly. “The baby will arrive right in the middle of harvest.”

  “We’ll manage fine,” I quickly assured her. “We’ll find you some help.”

  “So this is why you’ve been feelin’ sick?” I went on.

  She nodded.

  “I don’t remember Lou being sick like that. It scared me,” I admitted.

  “Some women are. Some women aren’t,” Mary explained matter-of-factly. “Anyway, it shouldn’t last for long, Doc said.”

  But Doc was wrong. Mary continued to feel sick for many weeks. Months, in fact. She lost weight and looked pale and fragile. It tore me apart to hear her in the mornings. I felt responsible for the way she was feeling and I sure would have gladly taken her place.

  We menfolk took turns cooking breakfast. I even hung a blanket over Mary’s door so the odors from the kitchen wouldn’t bother her as much. Other than that, it seemed we simply had to wait it out.

  In March we had a visit from Lilli and Pa Turley. They brought both good and bad news. Lilli brought the good news. Bubbling as she shared it, she told us that Avery had asked her to marry him and she had said yes. The wedding was set for June.

  Pa’s news brought sadness to Mary’s eyes.

  “I’ve decided to put the farm up for sale,” he informed us.

  I saw Mary start and wondered what thoughts were going through her mind. She didn’t speak them then; she simply nodded.

  “I’ve given it a lot of thought,” went on Pa Turley. “Mitch isn’t interested in farmin’. He has him a good job in the city now.” Pa Turley sat twisting his coffee cup this way and that as he looked into the steaming interior. “Don’t ’spect he’ll ever return home to the land . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Never was no good at batchin’,” he mused after a moment of silence.

  “What will you do?” Mary finally found voice to ask. My thoughts had already jumped ahead, and I was about to call Mary aside to suggest that we offer Pa the downstairs bedroom.

  “Emma—yer aunt Emma over to Concord—has been after me fer some time to move in with her. She’d like someone about the house to keep things in order like—an’ she knows I don’t wanna be alone. She thinks thet it would work best fer both of us.”

  “And what do you think?” Mary asked calmly.

  “I’ve no objections,” Pa Turley answered a bit quickly. “Always got along with Emma the best of any of my sisters.”

  Mary looked at me and I nodded. She took a big breath as though in relief, her eyes thanking me as she said, “You’re welcome here, Pa.”

  Pa Turley pushed back his chair and waved the offer aside in one quick motion. “Oh, I couldn’t,” he protested.

  “And why not?” questioned Mary. “We’ve got the room. We’d be glad to have you, wouldn’t we, Josh?”

  “Sure would,” I assured him. “A room right there,” I said, pointing to the downstairs bedroom, “or one right up there at the head of the stairs. Take your pick.”

  Pa Turley seemed to be having a mental debate. He finally sighed deeply and pulled his chair closer to the table and his cup.

  “Much obliged,” he said with feeling. “Guess it’s always good to know thet yer wanted. But—I think thet we’d best leave things be. I—I would be welcome here. I know thet. But Emma—Emma needs me. There’s a difference there, ya know? No, I think thet we’d best let things be as planned.”

  Mary and I looked at each other, and we knew that we had to let him decide the matter. “Well, as long as you know you’re more than welcome, Pa,” I told him.

  “You’ll visit?” asked Mary.

  “Oh, why sure,” he promised. “Got three girls all a’livin’ here. ’Course I’ll visit. ’Sides, I sure wanna keep up on the grandchildren.”

  Mary and her pa smiled fondly at each other.

  That night Mary and I lay in our bed talking over the day’s events. I decided to tell her what had been churning through my mind ever since the Turleys’ visit.

  “I’ve been thinkin’,” I said softly into the dark, “I’d like to buy Pa’s land.”

  I felt Mary move slightly in order to see my face. It was too dark in the room, so she settled back in her spot beside me.

  “You need more land, Josh?” she asked.

  “Not—not really. Not right now. But—but it was your home, your family’s land for as long as I can remember—as long as you can remember. I thought—I thought it might be hard—that you might sorta like to keep it.”

  There was silence and then Mary said softly into the night, with a break in her voice, “Thank you, Josh.”

  I ran my hand over her soft hair and traced the scar over her eye with one finger. “Besides,” I went on slowly, “who knows? Maybe we’ll have a son and he’ll need the land. I’d be pleased to give him his grandpa’s farm to work.”

  Mary chuckled at the thought and put her head on my shoulder. “If you can—if you can work it out, Josh, I’d be most happy about it,” she whispered, and a sob caught in her throat. “It would only seem right, wouldn’t it—and it would make Papa so happy.”

  I decided on a trip to town the very next day to see what arrangements could be made.

  The banker was agreeable, and Pa Turley sure was. It took some time to get all the paperwork sorted out and processed. But in the end the Turley farm belonged to the Joneses. Pa acted like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders when I handed him the check for the farm. He couldn’t say anything. He just reached out and gave me a big bear hug, and I knew he felt that he wasn’t really giving up the land—just handing it on to his family.

  He had a farm sale then and packed his few belongings for moving on to his sister’s. Lilli went to live with Faye to await her wedding to Avery.

  Mary and I drove Pa into town to catch the train for Concord. He’d already said goodbye to his other two daughters. He didn’t have much to say on the way, but his eyes sure did study out every farm and field as we traveled along. It’s like he’s closing the door on his past life, I thought, and getting ready to open a new one.

  When we got into town he excused himself and said he’d like to take a bit of a walk before the train pulled in. Mary had groceries to purchase and I had some harness parts to pick up, so we let him off and promised we’d be there at the station when the train arrived.

  I wondered what the little walk was about. Figured he might have some old friends he wanted to say goodbye to or something—and then I saw him head off in the direction of the cemetery.

  He was going to say his goodbye to Mrs. Turley. Guess he missed her far more than any of us knew. More than he’d ever miss the farm. Maybe sister Emma would be good for him— though of course I knew she’d never take the place of the one he had shared life with for so many years.

  Like we’d said, Mary and I were both there when the train pulled in. ’Course the tears flowed some with the
goodbyes. I knew it was hard for Mary, but she was brave about it. And then the train was pulling off and we were alone on the platform, the wind whipping Mary’s coat about her small form. I took her hand and led her from the station. More than ever, she was mine to care for now. She had neither ma nor pa to lean on when she needed them. I was really all she had.

  CHAPTER 19

  Happiness

  WITH THE ADDITION OF the Turley farm, I had even more fields to plant that spring. I knew Pa Turley had been a good farmer in his day, but perhaps he’d sorta lost heart since the death of Mrs. Turley. Anyway, there was a lot of catching up to do in working up the land.

  Mary was patient about my long, long days. Many times I saw her only at breakfast and for a few minutes at supper before I fell into bed exhausted. She didn’t make many trips to the fields, either, with refreshments as she had usually done. Partly because it was more difficult for her with the baby coming, but mostly because some of the new fields I worked were so far away. Instead, she packed a lunch for me each morning.

  We didn’t get much rain at all that spring, so I wasn’t slowed down any with the planting. In fact, it was so dry that neighboring farmers were all talking about it and wondering if the seed would have enough moisture to sprout.

  The crash of the faraway stock market did affect us. I guess it affected the whole world. Everyone sorta held their breath, waiting to see just what calamity would strike next. I prayed that there wouldn’t be one and that I would be able to take care of the family members who were my responsibility.

  Lilli married in June as planned. Pa Turley came back for the wedding and spent a few nights with us before returning to Aunt Emma. Mary was so glad to see him. While he was there, he and Grandpa and Uncle Charlie all worked on a cradle together. They seemed to take great pleasure in the project, and Mary of course was thrilled.