Love comes softly (12 page)

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Now thankfully, with practice and Ma's recipes, she could turn out things that she need not be ashamed of. Three weeks had made quite a difference.

When they had finished their cake, Clark having asked for and received a second piece, Marty was about to wash the supper dishes, but Clark suggested that they first see what Missie thought of the gift he had purchased. She was only too happy to agree, as she was curious to see what would be the child's reaction.

Clark came in from the shed with a small box; then lifting Missie out of her chair, he presented it to her.

"Fer Missie's birthday," Clark said.

Missie turned and looked at the cake, as though wondering if she was to put the birthday-- meaning cake-- in the small box.

"Look, Missie," Clark said, "look here in the box. This is fer Missie on her birthday."

He helped the child lift the top lid and Missie stared in wonderment at the item in the box. Clark lifted it out, wound it firmly and placed it on the floor. When he released it, it began to spin, whirling out in many colors of red, blue, yellow, violet-- too many to really name.

Missie clasped her hands together excitedly, too awestruck to say anything.

When it stopped whirling she pushed it toward Clark, saying, "Do it 'gain." Clark did.

Marty watched for some time before she turned to the dishes, and then suddenly she remembered her own gift. It certainly wasn't anything as grand as Clark's, she mused, as she carried it from the bedroom. Maybe Missie wouldn't care for it at all. Well, she'd done what she could with what she had. So be it.

"Missie," she said as she entered the kitchen, "I have somethin' fer ya, too," and she held out her gift.

Clark's eyes widened.

"Well, I be," he muttered. "Missie, jest look what yer mama done made ya."

Marty knelt in front of the little girl and carefully fitted round her shoulders the small shawl that she had labored

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over. It was done in a soft blue with pink rosebuds embroidered on it. Tassles lined the edge and they seemed to especially intrigue the little girl whose hands kept feeling them.

"Oh," said Missie. "Oh, Mama."

It was the first time that she had called her Mama, and Marty found herself swallowing a big lump in her throat. She tried to hide her feelings by adjusting the shawl to hang right.

Suddenly she was aware that Clark was looking at her, and there was a puzzled look on his face. Marty glanced down self- consciously and in so doing saw with horror the reason for the look. In kneeling before the child she had knelt on her skirt, pinning it down firmly, its tightness outlining her growing body, revealing it noticeably. Flushing, she clambered to her feet.

"Now I've gone an' done it," she thought. Well, she couldn't have gone on hiding it forever anyway. Besides, why should she feel any shame? It was Clem's baby, conceived in wedlock and love. She couldn't help that he was no longer here to share the bornin' of it. Still, she didn't know why, but she just wished that this man who had taken her in didn't have to know about it until it was there, arrived and already growing. Well, there was no use to go frettin' about it. He knew now and there was nothin' that she could be a doin' about it.

She turned to the dishes and Clark went back to playing with Missie

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Chapter 15

Disclosed Secret

Next morning the sky was dark-scowling. The wind still blew from the north, telling the world that it was now in charge. The horses huddled, backs to the storm, and the cows gathered in the shelter of the barn trying to escape the chill of the gale. Very few chickens appeared outside of the coop, and those that did soon dashed back to the warmth of the building. As Marty noted them, she remembered her resolve to speak to Clark about assuming the care of them.

"Dad-burn," she exclaimed, "I sure did pick me a grand time to be a startin'."

Clark's prayer at breakfast that morning included a thanks to the Almighty for the warm shelter that was theirs, both for man and beast, and for the fact that they need not fear the coldness of the winter, due to the mercies of their great God. "An' to the hard work of the man hisself," added Marty mentally. However, she did acknowledge the truth of the prayer. It was comforting to know that they were prepared for the cold weather ahead.

Marty was just getting around again to wondering what on earth she would do with Clark around the house all day, when he took her completely off guard.

"I be a leavin' fer town right away," he said. "Is there any- thin' thet ya be a needin'?"

"But it's only Friday," Marty responded.

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"Yes'm, I know thet, but I have some business there thet I'd like to be a seem' to right away like, an' if a storm comes up we might jest have to sit tight a spell."

Marty couldn't help but feel that the idea was a very foolish one. This time he'd take a chill for sure. He'd managed to somehow sneak past his last tempting of fate without appearing any the worse for it, but surely he couldn't be that lucky again. But who was she to argue, and with a man? If they made up their minds, there just wasn't much that a body could do about it. She left the table and checked out her list to see if anything else needed to be added.

Clark sat mulling over his coffee, then finally spoke. "Me being' a man I didn't notice what I s'pose a woman would have see'd long ago. I had me no idea thet ya was expectin' a young 'un."

Marty did not look away from her list. She did not want to meet his eyes.

"I'm right sorry thet I didn't know. I might have saved ya some hard things. From now on ya'll do no more totin' of them heavy water pails. When ya be needin' extra water fer washin' an' sech, ya be a lettin' me know."

How silly, thought Marty. If this baby gonna be harmed by a totin' water, the damage be done long ago.

Still she said nothing and Clark went on. "We be blessed with lots of good fresh milk. I hope ya be a takin' advantage of it. If there be anythin' ya need or anythin' I can do, I'd be obliged if ya let me know."

He paused, then went on. "Seem' as how I be goin' to town today anyhow, I figured as how maybe Missus McDonald would fix up a bundle of sewing pieces thet ya be a needin' to sew baby things. If there be anythin' in particular thet ya be settin' yer mind on, then try to describe it fer her on the list."

Marty stood tongue-tied. She hadn't gotten around to worrying yet how she would clothe the new young one. It still seemed so very far off in the future, but Clark was right. She must start sewing or she'd never be ready. Now near panic seized her.

"Thank ya," she answered Clark. "I'm sure Missus

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McDonald be knowin' better'n me what I be needin'," and she handed him the completed list.

She looked out of the window, still anxious about the weather. Storms came suddenly sometimes, she was told, and she hated to see Clark set out when there was a chance that one was on the way. He seemed to read her thoughts.

"Plenty of time to git to town an' back," he said. "Hien a storm should catch me, there be plenty of neighbors livin' between here an' town, an' I'd be able to take shelter with one of them if I be a needin' to."

"But, but, what 'bout the chores?" Marty stammered. "I don't even know what to do or where to find the feed, or nuthin'.

Clark swung around to face her and it was clear from the look on his face that he had not considered the question of her with the chores.

"Iffen a storm be a comin' an' I have to shelter an' don't make it home, ya don't leave this house. Do ya hear?" Marty heard, loud and clear.

"Don't ya dare worry ya none 'bout the hens or the hogs or even the milk cows. Nuthin'-- I mean nuthin'-- out there be so important thet I want ya out there a carin' fer it."

"So that's the way it be," thought Marty. "Well, he needn't be so riled up 'bout it."

It was the closest to upset that she had ever seen Clark, and she couldn't help but feel surprise. He turned from her, buttoned his heavy jacket and reached for his mitts. He hesitated. "Might be a fine day to be a piecin' a quilt. The little feller will be a needin' a warm un."

"Yeah," Marty thought, "he most likely will."

"I'll be back ter chore time," Clark said as she moved to go out the door; then he paused a moment and said quietly, "I be right glad thet ya'll have a little 'un to remember 'im by"-- and he was gone.

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Chapter 16

Thoughtful and Carin'

Clark returned in time for the chores, much to Marty's relief. By then the snow was falling, swirling around angrily as it came. Clark went right on down to the barn to care for Dan and Charlie.

"He be settin' more stock on them horses then on his own self," Marty, watching from the kitchen window, murmured to herself.

She moved to the stove and pushed the coffee that she had ready, closer to the center of the fire box so that it would be sure to be hot.

Missie had been playing on the floor, but when she heard Ole Bob's joyous bark of welcome she jumped up, eyes shining.

"Daddy comin'," she said excitedly.

Marty smiled at the fact that Missie often said daddy even though Clark referred to himself as pa. Ellen must have preferred "daddy," Marty decided. Well, then for Ellen's sake she would go on talking about daddy to her, too.

Clark was soon in, arms full of bundles and face red from the cold wind. At the sight of her pa, Missie danced a wild jig. "Daddy here-- Daddy here. Hi, Pa."

Clark called out to her and when he had rid himself of his parcels, swung the little girl up into his arms where she exclaimed over his cold face as she patted his cheeks.

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"Best ya be a warmin' up a bit 'fore ya start the chores," Marty told him as she poured a cup of coffee.

"Sounds like a right good idea," he responded, taking off his heavy coat and hanging it by the fire to let it warm until he needed it again. He stood for a moment warming his hands and then crossed to the table. Marty creamed the coffee and placed it before him.

"Thet there fair-sized bundle be yourn," Clark said. "Missus McDonald was right excited bout fixin' it up. Think she was a mite confused. Seemed to think it was my young 'un. It being' none of her business, I didn't bother none to set her straight."

He swallowed a few more gulps of hot coffee. Marty's thoughts whirled.

"His young 'un. How could it be his young 'un, us not even being' true man an' wife? Course Missus McDonald wouldn't be a knowin' thet." She felt shame coloring her face.

Clark went on. "I got a thinkin' later, though, thet maybe I should have said somethin' so I went back. `Missus McDonald,' I sez, 'true, my Missus be havin' a young 'un and true I'll be a treatin"im as one of mine, but also true thet his pa be her first husband an' thet being' important to her, I wouldn't want folks gettin' things mixed up like.'

Clark finished his coffee.

"Well, I best be gettin'."

Clark hurried into his coat and was gone before Marty had time to catch her breath.

He understood. He'd gone back to the store to set Mrs. McDonald straight because he knew, as did everyone there about, that her tongue was the busiest part of her anatomy. Give her a day or two of fair weather and everyone in the area would know of the coming baby. Yet Clark understood that it was important to her that he be known as Clem's baby. Her mind continued to try to sort out this man as she began to put away the supplies that he had purchased.

When she turned excitedly to her bundle, she decided to take it in on her bed to open it. It was cold in the bedroom now and she shivered, partly from anticipation, she was sure, as she unwrapped the brown store paper.

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Mrs. McDonald had gone all out. Marty gasped as she looked at the beautiful materials. Surely a young 'un didn't need that many baby things. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of the days and evenings ahead when she could sit and work on the small garments. She wished that she had someone to share it with and was tempted to pour it all out to Missie. No, she'd best wait awhile for that. The remaining months would seem far too long for a two-year-old. Oh, if only Clem were here to share it with her. A hot tear trickled down Marty's cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her hand. If only it were that easy to get rid of the pain in her heart!

When Clark came in to supper, he was noticeably shivering in spite of his heavy coat. He remarked that he couldn't believe how much the temperature had dropped in a few short hours. The wind had a great deal to do with it.

Before he sat down to the table he lit a fire in the fireplace in the sitting room.

"Guess it's time," he observed, "to be havin' more heat than jest the cook stove."

When he prayed that night he asked his God to be with "people less blessed than we," and Marty was reminded of her covered wagon with the broken wheel and she shivered to think of what it would be like to be huddled in it now, trying to keep warm under their scant blankets.

After the meal Clark moved to the sitting room to check and replenish the fire, and Missie moved her few toys to the rug in front of it.

Marty did the dishes, feeling warm and protected in spite of herself; for how else could one feel in a snug cabin, while the wind screamed around you unable to get in?

The evening was still young and Marty was anxious to get started on her sewing, but she realized how cold her room would be. She was still trying to find some answer to her problem as she emptied her dishpan and replaced it on its peg. when Clark spoke.

"It'll be right cold in yer room from now on. Do ya be a wantin' yer machine moved out to the sittin' room? There be plenty of room there fer it."

Marty looked directly at him as she answered slowly, "Do