Love's unfolding dream (Love Comes Softly Series #6)

by Janette Oke

  Belinda stopped again, obviously reliving the scene in the crowded bedroom of the log cabin.

  "An' there he was--his pa--his pa an' a younger brother holdin"im down. Luke was . . . Luke was tryin' to give 'im somethin' to make 'im quiet. An' the blood . . . the blood was everywhere an' the . . . the mash . . . it was jest a mash, Ma, thet arm! I remember I thought, He's dyin'. Luke will never save 'im, an' then I remembered how Luke always says, if they're still breathin', ya fight. An' I looked an' he was still breathin' an' I prayed an' then I took a deep breath and started fightin' down the heaves that wanted to come. It was awful. My head went round and round an' my stomach churned and my legs went soft as jelly. But I didn't go down. For a minute I . . . I wished I could jest pass out, an' then. . ."

  Belinda's face had drained to white. Marty feared she might faint now.

  . . . then I made up my mind to help. Luke needed me. I could see thet. The father wouldn't be any good. 'Sides, he was

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  too big. . . there wasn't room. An' he didn't know the first thing 'bout Luke's instruments. An' he looked 'most as pale as his son on the bed."

  Belinda stopped again. Marty did not prompt her.

  "Funny," she mused. "Once we started workin', it was all different somehow. The mass of blood and flesh no longer seemed like an arm. It was somethin' to fight against . . . somethin' thet was threatenin' to take a life. We had to stop it, Luke an' me. I forgot all 'bout being' squeamish. I jest wanted to git thet job done in time to stop thet boy from dyin'. It was. . . it was so important, Ma. Can ya understand thet? There was death an' pain in thet room. . . an' only Luke an' me to fight against it."

  Belinda's eyes were big with the enormity of her thoughts. They had fought against death--she and her doctor brother--and they had won. Marty wanted to cheer for the victor, but instead she began to weep softly, the tears gently rolling down her cheek.

  Belinda's eyes glistened. "Ya shoulda seen 'im, Ma. Ya shoulda seen Luke. He was wonderful. He knew just what to do. An' he hurried. .. but so careful. An' he got thet blood stopped. An' he did . . . he did beat death. Oh, Ma! Now I understand . . . I understand why Luke wanted to be a doctor. It's not the broken bones or the bad cuts or the bursted appendixes. It's not the awful things he sees. It's the chance to fight those things . . . to bring healin' an' help. Thet's what doctorin' is."

  Marty took her daughter by the shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes, shining with tears but also with joy. Marty was no longer worried about Belinda. Marty feared no emotional scars in spite of Belinda's traumatic experience. Marty saw only a peace, an acceptance. Belinda had found a way to reach out to others who were in pain.

  "An' ya want to help," Marty said softly It was a statement, not a question.

  "Oh yes," Belinda responded breathlessly.

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  Marty drew the young girl into her arms. "Then help, ya shall," she said simply.

  They stood for a moment and then Belinda pulled back, her eyes shadowed again. "But, Ma, it doesn't seem right to fight to save lives an' then--only to have 'em wish they had died." "No," agreed Marty gently. "It doesn't seem right." "Then we hafta do somethin' fer thet boy"

  "We'll keep prayin'," said Marty. "God will show us what else to do."

  "Ya shoulda seen 'im, Ma. After. . . after it was all over. Luke left to . . . to care fer the . . . the mess . . . an' he left me to watch the boy. He was so pale an' so. . . so. . ." Belinda hesitated. Marty waited. "He's good-lookin', Ma," she admitted softly, honestly.

  "I noticed," said Marty with a smile.

  Belinda flushed slightly. She turned back to her cookie batter on the counter. For some reason Marty knew that the sharing time had come to a close.

  "We've gotta do somethin'," Belinda said again, but she was speaking more to herself now than to her mother.

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  FIFTEEN

  Sunday Dinner for the Teacher

  On a cold day the Brown family was due to join the Davises at the Sunday dinner table. Now that winter had arrived, the Browns no longer drove the fifteen miles to their former church but were attending the community church close to the teacherage and schoolhouse.

  Marty had already met the "divine" and "vibrant" Jackson at Sunday services. He was nice looking, for a young fella, she concluded. And he was gentlemanly and proper, and he did not put on airs--in spite of the fact that all the young girls were continually fluttering around him. His two brothers seemed like nice enough youngsters, too, and Marty was impressed with Mrs. Brown, the widowed schoolteacher.

  So it was without hesitation, and a twinge of conscience for not having done so sooner, that Marty extended the dinner invitation to the Brown family. They gratefully accepted, and Marty began thinking ahead for her meal planning.

  When Amy Jo heard the news, as would be expected she coaxed, begged, pleaded, and bargained most persuasively to be included. Marty could have made room at the big table for Amy Jo, but she saw no reason to encourage the silliness of the girl, so she said a loving but firm, "No, not this time." Amy Jo was quite put out. For a few days she did not even drop in to visit at the big house. Marty knew her granddaughter--impulsive and easily

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  peeved but essentially goodhearted--eventually would get over her miff and cool off enough for them to have a sensible talk about the matter.

  The Davises met the Browns after the service at the back of the church and offered to guide them back to the farm.

  "Oh my" said Mrs. Brown. "We have a bit of a problem. Young Jordan only wore his lighter coat. I had told him--but you know children. I should have checked before we left the house. Anyway, we must drop by the teacherage to get his warmer coat before coming out. If you just give us the directions, I'm sure we can find you with no trouble."

  Marty agreed. The directions would be straightforward enough and were easily followed. She was about to say so when she felt a tug at her sleeve. Melissa stood there looking demure.

  "Someone could ride with them," she said decorously, "and show them the way"

  It sounded sensible enough to Marty.

  "I'm sure there's no need," Mrs. Brown assured them. "We hate to make trouble--"

  "Oh, it wouldn't be any trouble at all. Would it, Grandma?" "No," responded Marty. "No trouble at all."

  Without thinking further about it, Marty turned to Belinda. She was used to giving Belinda instructions, and Belinda was totally familiar with the country roads, so it was the most natural thing for her to send Belinda along with the Browns.

  "Jest grab yer coat an' go along with the Browns," Marty said. "They need to drop by the teacherage fer a moment."

  To Marty's surprise, Belinda hesitated. It was not like Belinda to resist a direct order.

  Marty, puzzled, looked at her. "Yer coat?" she prompted.

  Then Marty's eyes followed Belinda's to the downcast face of Melissa, and she knew Belinda's hesitation had something to do with the other girl.

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  "I jest thought thet . . . thet maybe I should go with you an' Pa," Belinda said carefully, "to help git dinner on an' all. Melissa can go with the Browns. Won't you, Melissa?"

  Melissa's face brightened. Marty nodded her agreement. She was still mystified over the peculiar behavior of the two girls when she saw Melissa reach out and give Belinda a quick hug, then wrap her coat tightly about her in preparation for the trip with the Browns.

  Strange creatures--girls, thought Marty with a shake of her head as she reached for her own coat on the peg.

  "So what was thet all 'bout?" she whispered to her daughter after the others were out of hearing.

  "Oh nothin'," said Belinda with a shrug. "Melissa likes Jackson, thet's all."

  "Oh," said Marty the truth finally dawning. Then she added, "Thought thet you liked Jackson, too."

  "Not the way Melissa does," said Belinda.

  "I see," said Marty.

  They left the church just as the Brown's sleigh was leaving the yard. Marty coul
d not help but smile to herself. Melissa must feel just a mite disappointed, she noted. The young Jackson sat in the front driving the gray. His mother shared the seat with him, and tucked in the back along with the two younger boys was Melissa. Marty was quite sure it hadn't all worked out according to Melissa's desires.

  They had been home only long enough to get the food ready to serve when their dog announced the arrival of the guests. Clark went out to lead the team to the barn, and Marty went to the door to welcome the Browns. Belinda stayed where she was, busy in the kitchen.

  Melissa showed them in, careful not to precede Mrs. Brown but not too concerned about the two young boys. She was busy

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  casting sidelong glances at Jackson. He seemed to take it all in stride.

  Jordan spotted Clare's David across the yard and was momentarily sidetracked. The two had become friends at school and concluded they should get in some playing time before dinner. Mrs. Brown intervened and urged Jordan on to the house.

  Mrs. Brown was a delightful guest. She complimented Marty on her home, exclaimed over the delicious aromas from the kitchen, said nice things to Belinda, who was giving special attention to making the table look attractive, and thanked Melissa again for her kind escort. It all seemed sincere and natural, and Marty found herself liking the new woman even more.

  Marty, with Belinda's help, soon had the food on the table and began to seat her guests. Without giving too much thought to the arrangements, she put Mrs. Brown between the two younger boys to her right and Jackson down beside Clark so they could share some man-talk. She motioned for Belinda to sit next to him and Melissa beside her. Belinda immediately suggested, "I think thet Melissa should sit in the middle. It's easier fer me to wait on the table iffen I sit on the end."

  Melissa quickly took the middle chair before someone changed the arrangement. Jackson held the chair for her to be seated while Melissa flashed him the most winning smile. Marty only nodded dumbly.

  They all took their places, and Clark led in the table grace. The meal was a success in every way. The food had turned out to be tasty, and the Brown family were natural conversationalists. Even the children had manners and a sense of decorum rarely seen in ones so young. Young Jordan only whispered twice to his mother to be allowed to go out to find David.

  Marty found herself wondering about the deceased Mr. Brown. How had he died? And when had the death taken place? She felt a deep sympathy for the young widow. It must be hard to

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  raise a family--especially boys--alone. Marty felt a chill at the very thought. She didn't know what she'd ever have done without Clark when the boys were growing up, not to speak of their daughters.

  "Is the teacherage meetin' yer needs?" Clark was asking the woman. As chairman of the school board, it was up to him to find out.

  "It's fine," said Mrs. Brown. "A bit crowded for the four of us, but fine. I guess we had a few more things than we really needed, but I just couldn't part with them--just yet."

  She did not explain, but Marty felt she understood. "Ya lived right in town before?" Marty asked.

  "Yes. My husband worked in the bank in Chester."

  Marty was picturing a big frame or brick house with delicate curtains covering the windows and flowers blooming along a neat boardwalk up to a white front door.

  "It must be quite an adjustment fer ya," she said, compassion in her voice.

  "Yes," admitted Mrs. Brown. "Yes, it is."

  "Had you taught before?" asked Clark.

  "I was a schoolteacher when I came to Chester. That's where I met Carl--Mr. Brown. I taught for two years before we married--and a bit when the other teacher was down with pneumonia one winter. But Carl--Mr. Brown--wanted me to be at home. And then Jackson arrived, and I was happy to forget about schoolteaching. I likely would never have taken it up again if. . ."

  But Mrs. Brown stopped. "I was so glad when I heard of the opening here," she continued, changing directions. "It was truly an answer to prayer--for all of us. We are so thankful for the opportunity." She turned to Clark, the person who had hired her. "I do hope I will live up to your expectations, Mr. Davis. If ever you question my--"

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  "We are pleased with your work," Clark was quick to inform her. "Very pleased."

  Mrs. Brown did not seem entirely comfortable.

  Clark went on, "Now, no more talk of school," he said kindly. "Today you are not the schoolteacher--an' I am not the chairman of the board. We are neighbors--neighbors an' fellow members of the church. Let's fergit school an' jest have us a good neighborly visit."

  Mrs. Brown smiled warmly. "I'd like that," she said simply, looking relaxed again.

  So the visiting turned to other matters. The three Brown youngsters were included. Clark knew how to make each one feel welcome at his table.

  After dinner Belinda and Melissa volunteered to do the dishes. Jordan--anticipation brightening his face--and Payne were allowed to run out to join Dan and David, who were towing their sleds toward the banks of the nearby creek. Marty led Mrs. Brown into the family living room to look at some new quilt patterns. That left Clark and Jackson. Clark suggested checkers and was answered by an enthusiastic grin.

  Belinda could tell that Melissa was hurrying her through the dishes. She didn't have to ask why. Though Melissa had stopped giggling and tittering over Jackson, Belinda knew she still had a special interest in the boy. Belinda had noticed her giving him coy little smiles and watching for opportunities to be around him.

  "I think Jackson likes me," Melissa whispered confidentially to Belinda as the girls worked at the dishes.

  Belinda did not respond.

  "Have you noticed the way he looks at me?" asked Melissa.

  "How?" asked Belinda. She had noticed no difference in the way Jackson looked at Melissa or anyone else, but she didn't dare say so. Melissa seemed just a tad annoyed by the question. She no

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  doubt had been hoping Belinda would simply say yes.

  "Well. . . well. . . like he likes me," she finished lamely.

  "Maybe so," said Belinda, refusing to take the bait. "Can't say I'd noticed anything particular."

  "And we had such a good ride over here together," she continued, changing her approach. Belinda wanted to smile. She had seen with her own eyes the seating arrangement for the ride over.

  Suddenly Belinda felt sorry for Melissa. Melissa really did like Jackson. Belinda liked Jackson, too, but she understood there was some difference in the way the two of them felt about the boy. Well, she wouldn't stand in Melissa's way. She loved Melissa. She had no desire to hurt her. After all, Melissa was a very generous person. She shared her books, she shared her wardrobe, she shared her friendship. It was asking too much to expect her to share her first love, as well. So Belinda held her tongue and smiled at Melissa in hopes that it would give her encouragement.

  When the last of the dishes had been returned to the cupboards, Melissa removed her apron, rubbed a bit of sweet cream into her hands, and went to join the others in the living room. Belinda remained in the kitchen, wiping the table and hanging up the dish towels. She couldn't see what was happening, but she could figure it out by what she was hearing through the door.

  The checker game must have ended in a draw, with Clark winning one match, Jackson another, and the third a stalemate.

  "Yer good, boy," Clark congratulated him warmly as they pushed back the board and rose to their feet.

  "Pa an' I used to play a lot," Jackson explained.

  "Bet ya miss 'im."

  "Yeah," the boy said quietly, sadness in his tone. "Yeah, I sure do."

  Melissa's voice interrupted the conversation. "Care to see

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  where the boys are sledding?" she asked Jackson.

  "Sure," he replied.

  "I'll get your coat," said Melissa.

  She hurried through the kitchen to the coat pegs and was soon wearing her own coat and carrying Jackson's over her arm. The
n she led the way back through the kitchen to the side door.

  Belinda was still there. She had not yet removed her apron but was busy polishing the big black stove with a scrap of newspaper. Jackson stopped beside her.

  "We're goin' out to see where the boys are sleddin'. Want to come?"

  Belinda looked from Jackson to Melissa.

  "I'm not quite done," she said simply. "You go on--"

  "We'll wait," said Jackson. "Got lots of time. What you gotta do yet? Let me help." And so saying, Jackson took the paper from Belinda and began to vigorously rub the iron surface. Belinda cast Melissa a helpless look over his bent shoulders.

  "Really, I . . . I was goin' to. . ."

  Belinda lifted a stove lid and tossed the used paper into the firebox. She reached for a few sticks of wood to replenish the fire. They would want coffee or tea later, but already the cake was sitting in the pantry. There was really nothing else that needed doing. She had no more excuses.

  She smiled at Jackson. "Well . . . I guess it's all done," she answered honestly.

  "Then get out of that apron and grab your coat," instructed Jackson, and he reached to give the bow a playful tug.

  Belinda moved away toward the hook on the wall, apparently to hang up her apron, but it was really to get out of reach of the boy.

  Jackson lifted her coat from the coat hook on the back porch and held it for her. She shrugged it quickly onto her shoulders, avoiding any further help from him and any eye contact with

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  Melissa, and the three of them went out into the brightness of the winter sunshine, squinting against the sun on snow.