Love comes softly (15 page)

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would allow her to, "we may as well have some bakin' to go with it. Gotta git started on it sometime. What ya be fancy-

in'?"

Clark chose a spicy tart and Marty took a simple shortbread cookie.

They talked of the day ahead as they shared their coffee. Clark wouldn't do the chores until after Missie was up. That way he wouldn't miss her excitement. Then they would have a late breakfast and their Christmas dinner mid-afternoon. The supper meal would be the "pickin's," Clark said. That would save Marty from being over the stove all day. It sounded like a reasonable plan to her and she endorsed it wholeheartedly.

"We used to play a game when I was a kid," Clark said. "Haven't played a game fer years, but it might be fun. It was drawed out on a piece a paper or a board an' ya used pegs or buttons. While ya be busyin' about, I'll make us up one."

The clock ticked on and the snow did not cease nor the wind slacken, but it didn't matter now. It had been accepted as it was and the necessary emotional adjustments had been made.

When Missie called to get up, Clark went for her and Marty stationed herself by the sitting-room fire to watch the little girl's response. They were not disappointed. Missie was beside herself with excitement. She went from the small toys in her sock to the doll house, then to the sock, back to the doll house, exclaiming over and over the wonder of it all. Finally she stopped between the two, clasped her tiny hands together and said, "Oh, Chris'as bootiful."

Clark and Marty laughed at her. She was off again, kneeling before the doll house, handling each small item carefully as she took it out and placed it back again.

Clark finally pulled himself away to go to do the chores. The storm was still raging and he dressed warmly against it. Caring for the stock would be a heavy task on such a day, and he was glad that the animals were able to be sheltered from the wind.

Marty worried as she watched him go. The snow was so thick at times that you couldn't see the barn. She was glad

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that he took Ole Bob with him, as he could sense directions should the storm confuse Clark. He also left instructions with her. If he wasn't in at a set time, she was to fire the gun into the air and repeat it, if necessary, at five-minute intervals. Marty hoped that it wouldn't be necessary.

Much to Marty's relief, Clark was in before the appointed time, chilled by the wind but reporting all things in order and cared for.

She put the finishing touches on breakfast and they sat down to eat. Missie could hardly bear to leave her new toys and came only when promised that she could return to them following the meal.

They all bowed their heads and Clark prayed.

"Sometimes, Lord, we be puzzlin' bout yer ways. Thank ya, Lord, thet the storm came well afore the Grahams be a set- tin' out. We wouldn't want 'em caught in sech a one."

Marty hadn't thought of that but she totally agreed.

"An' Lord, thank ya fer those who share our table, an' bless this day of yourn. May it be one thet we can remember with warm feelin's even if the day be cold. Thank ya, Lord, fer this food thet ya have provided by yer goodness. Amen."

"Amen," said Missie, then she looked at her pa. "The house," she pointed, "thanks-- house."

Clark looked puzzled. Marty, too, felt bewildered but tried to understand what the small child meant.

"I believe she be wantin' ya to say thanks fer her doll house," Marty ventured.

"Is thet it? Okay, Missie, we pray again. An' thank ya. Lord, fer Missie's doll house. Amen."

Missie was satisfied, and after her own 'Amen' she began to eat her breakfast.

The day went quickly. They roasted nuts at the open fire, played the game that Clark had made, which Marty won with alarming consistency, and watched Missie at her play. When she was later tucked in for an early nap, Marty got busy with the final dinner preparations. After the child awoke they would have their Christmas dinner. She wanted everything to be just right. From pancakes to a bountiful table spread with

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all manner of good things in just a little over two months. Marty was pleased with herself.

After they had eaten more than enough of the sumptuous meal, Clark suggested that they read the Christmas story in the sitting room while their food settled.

"Yer turnin' out to be a right fine cook," he observed, and Marty flushed at the compliment.

They moved to the sitting room and Clark took Missie on his knee and opened up the Bible. He first read of the angel appearing to the virgin girl, Mary, telling her that she had been chosen as the mother of the Christ-child. He went on to read of Joseph's and Mary's trip to Bethlehem where no room was found in the inn, so that that night the infant Jesus was born in a stable. The shepherds heard the good news from the angels and rushed to see the new-born King. Then the wise- men came, following the star and bearing their gifts to the child, going home a different way for the protection of the baby.

Marty thought that she had never heard anything so beautiful. She couldn't remember ever hearing the complete story before as it was given in the Scriptures. A little baby born in a stable was God's Son. She placed a hand over her own little one.

"Wouldn't be a carin' fer my son to be born in a barn. Don't suppose thet God was a wantin' it thet way either, but no one had room fer a wee baby. Still-- God did watch over Him, sendin' angels to tell the shepherds an' all. An' the wise- men too, with their rich gifts. Yes, God was a carin"bout his Son."

The story held much appeal for the young woman expecting her first child and she thought on it as she did the dishes. After she was through in the kitchen she returned to the sitting room. Clark had gone out to do up the chores before it got too dark. It was hard enough to see one's way in the daylight in such a storm.

Marty sat down and picked up the Bible. She wished that she knew where to locate the Christmas story so that she might read it again, but as she turned the pages she couldn't

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find where Clark had read. She did find the Psalms though and read one after the other as she sat beside the warm fire. Somehow they were always so comforting, even when you didn't understand all of the words, she thought.

She read until she heard Clark entering the shed and then laid the Book aside. She'd best put on the coffee and get those `pickin's' ready.

Later that evening, after Missie had been put to bed, Marty asked Clark shyly if he'd mind reading 'the story' again. As he read she sat trying to absorb it all. She knew a bit more about it this time so could follow with more anticipation, catching things that she had missed the first time. She wondered if Clem had ever heard all of this. It was such a beautiful story.

"Oh, Clem!" her heart cried. "I wisht I coulda shared sech a Christmas with you."

After the reading, Marty sat in silence, only her knitting needles clicking as she worked, for she did not enjoy an evening of idleness, even on Christmas.

Clark crossed to the lean-to and came back with a small package.

"It aint much," he said, "to be a sayin' thank ya fer a car- in' fer Missie an' all."

Marty took it from him with a slight feeling of embarrassment. Fumbling, she took off the wrapping to expose a beautiful dresser set, with comb, brush and hand mirror. Hand- painted flowers graced the backs in pale golds and oranges. The set itself was ivory in color. It nearly took Marty's breath away.

She turned the mirror over in her hand and noticed initialed on the handle, M.L.C.D. It took a minute for her to realize that they were her initials: Martha Lucinda Claridge Davis. He had not only given her the set, he had given her back her name. Tears pushed out from under her lids and slid unchecked down her cheeks.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, "really beautiful an' I-- I jest don't know how to thank ya."

Clark seemed to understand what had prompted the tears.

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They had not come until she had read the engraving. He said nothing. Words weren't quite right at such a time.

Marty moved to put the lovely set on her chest in her room. She remembered the scarf. She lifted it out of the drawer and looked at it. No, she decided. She just couldn't. It wouldn't do. She shoved it back in the drawer. It just wasn't good enough, she decided. Not good enough at all.

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Chapter 20

A Visit from Ma Graham

Thinking back, Marty declared it a good Christmas in spite of her keen disappointment. It would have been so much fun to have shared it with the Grahams, but there was nothing that could be done about that; and somehow she felt sure that Clark's prayer had been answered and that in years to come they would remember it with warm feelings.

After the storm, the sun came out and the wind stopped howling. The stock moved about again, and the chickens ventured from their coop to their wire enclosure for a bit of exercising. Ole Bob ran round in circles, glad to stretch his legs. Marty envied him as she watched. How good it would be to feel light and easy-movin'.

Looking carefully at herself for the first time in months she studied her arms and hands. They were thinner than they used to be, she realized. She hiked up her skirt and looked at her legs. Yes, she definitely had lost weight, except for the one spot where she had decidedly put it on. She'd have to eat up a bit, she chided herself. She was quite thin enough before. After the baby arrived she'd blow away in the wind iffen she wasn't tied down, as her pa used to say. Well, she was sure enough tied down now, she reasoned. The baby seemed to be getting heavier every day. She felt bulky and clumsy, a feeling that she wasn't used to. Well, she realized, it was to be expected. December was as good as spent. Even as she thought of

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that with relief, the month of January stretched out before her, looking oh, so long. She wondered if she could endure it. Well, she'd just have to take it one day at a time.

January dawned with a bright sky and no wind, something that Marty had learned to be thankful for. She hated the wind, she decided. It sent chills right through her.

This was the new year. What did it hold for her? A new baby, she hoped. A faint anxiety pressed upon her and she implored Clark's God to please, please let everything be all right.

Clark had been to town again the day before and returned home with a rather grim look. Marty was about to ask the meaning of all of the trips but checked her tongue.

"Iffen it be somethin' I be a needin' to know, he'd be a sayin' so.

"Seems on a new day, of a new year, somethin' good should be happenin'," Marty decided as she went to get breakfast on.

When she checked out the kitchen window she felt that it truly had, for there were three graceful and timid deer crossing the pasture. Marty ran back to the bedroom for Missie.

"Missie," she roused the little girl, "come see."

She hurried back to the kitchen, hoping that the deer hadn't already disappeared. They had stopped and were grazing in an area where horses had pawed the snow from the grass.

"Look, Missie," Marty said pointing.

"Oh-h," Missie's voice held excitement. "Doggies." "No, Missie," Marty giggled, "it's not doggies. It be deer." "Deer?"

"That's right. Ain't they pretty, Missie?"

"Pretty."

As they watched, Clark came in from the barn, Ole Bob bounding ahead of him, barking at whatever took his fancy. At the sight of him the deer became instantly alert, long necks stretched up, legs tensed and then, as though on a given signal, they all three leaped forward in long graceful strides, lightly up and over the pasture fence and back into their native woods. It was a breathtaking sight and Marty and Missie

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were still at the window gazing after them when Clark entered.

"Pa!" cried Missie pointing, "deer-- they jump." "So ya saw 'em, eh?"

"Weren't they somethin'?" Marty said in awe.

"They be right nice all right, though they be a nuisance, too. Been noticing their tracks gettin' in closer an' closer. Wouldn't wonder that one mornin' I be a findin"em in the barn with the milk cows."

Marty smiled at his exaggeration. She finally pulled herself away from the window and busied herself with breakfast.

Later in the day, after the dinner dishes had been cleared away and Marty was sitting putting some small stitches on a nightie for the new baby, she heard Ole Bob suddenly take up barking. Someone was coming, she decided, and him not a stranger. She crossed to the window and looked down the road.

"Well, my word," she exclaimed, "it be Ma an' Ben." Joy filled her as she put aside her sewing and ran to make them welcome.

Clark came in from the yard not seeming too surprised at seeing them.

The men cared for the horses who had worked hard to buck some large drifts across the road. They then seated themselves in the sitting room by the fire and talked of next spring's planting and of their plans to extend their fields, and other man-talk.

"Imagine thinkin' of plantin' now with ten-foot drifts standin' on the corn fields," Marty thought.

The ladies settled in the kitchen. Ma had brought along some knitting and Marty brought out the sock that she was knitting for Clark. She needed help in shaping the heel and was glad for Ma's guidance.

They discussed their Christmases and their disappointment, but both admitted to having a good Christmas in spite of it all. Ma remarked that they were more than happy to say 'yes' when Clark had stopped by yesterday, inviting them to come for coffee New Year's Day if the weather held.