The Bluebird and the Sparrow
The Bluebird and the Sparrow
Books by Janette Oke
Return to Harmony • Another Homecoming
Tomorrow’s Dream
A
CTS OF
F
AITH
*
The Centurion’s Wife • The Hidden Flame • The Damascus Way
C
ANADIAN
W
EST
When Calls the Heart • When Comes the Spring
When Breaks the Dawn • When Hope Springs New
Beyond the Gathering Storm
When Tomorrow Comes
L
OVE
C
OMES
S
OFTLY
Love Comes Softly • Love’s Enduring Promise
Love’s Long Journey • Love’s Abiding Joy
Love’s Unending Legacy • Love’s Unfolding Dream
Love Takes Wing • Love Finds a Home
A P
RAIRIE
L
EGACY
The Tender Years • A Searching Heart
A Quiet Strength • Like Gold Refined
S
EASONS OF THE
H
EART
Once Upon a Summer • The Winds of Autumn
Winter Is Not Forever • Spring’s Gentle Promise
S
ONG OF
A
CADIA
*
The Meeting Place • The Sacred Shore • The Birthright
The Distant Beacon • The Beloved Land
W
OMEN OF THE
W
EST
The Calling of Emily Evans • Julia’s Last Hope
Roses for Mama • A Woman Named Damaris
They Called Her Mrs. Doc • The Measure of a Heart
A Bride for Donnigan • Heart of the Wilderness
Too Long a Stranger • The Bluebird and the Sparrow
A Gown of Spanish Lace • Drums of Change
*
with Davis Bunn
© 1995 by Janette Oke
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
E-book edition created 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-5855-8736-0
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
With deep appreciation
to Dan Thornberg,
Bethany’s talented artist
who presents my “word-painted” characters
visually
for readers, helping them feel
that the people of the books are
“folks” they know.
JANETTE OKE was born in Champion, Alberta, to a Canadian prairie farmer and his wife, and she grew up in a large family full of laughter and love. She is a graduate of Mountain View Bible College in Alberta, where she met her husband, Edward, and they were married in May of 1957. After pastoring churches in Indiana and Canada, the Okes spent some years in Calgary, where Edward served in several positions on college faculties while Janette continued her writing. She has written forty-eight novels for adults and another sixteen for children, and her book sales total nearly thirty million copies.
The Okes have three sons and one daughter, all married, and are enjoying their fifteen grandchildren. Edward and Janette are active in their local church and make their home near Didsbury, Alberta.
Contents
In spite of an eerie stillness about the house, people seemed in an awful hurry whenever they passed from one room to another.
Bustling—that’s what Mama calls it,
observed three-year-old Berta, curled up in an overstuffed chair, waiting.
Waiting.
It seemed to her that she had been waiting forever. Why was it— whatever
it
was—taking so long?
She sighed a deep sigh, pushed back dark hair that wanted to hang in her eyes, and rearranged her sitting position.
If only—
if only
someone would stop and tell her what was happening.
She heard quick steps in the hall again and another scurrying person entered the room. It was Mrs. Pringle, a neighbor. Berta uncurled her legs and jumped to the rug.
“Where’s Mama?” Berta asked before the woman could hurry on by.
Mrs. Pringle seemed to slide to a stop. She looked at the young child and her eyes softened.
“She’s—she’s in her room. She—”
“Doesn’t she got the baby yet?” asked Berta impatiently.
“No. No—not yet. Soon. The doctor says soon—now.”
The answer was not what Berta wished to hear.
“Why does it take so long?” she asked, her voice filled with annoyance. “I wanna see Mama.”
“Now, you just try to be patient,” soothed the neighbor woman. “Your mother is—is quite busy at the moment.”
She turned purposefully away to fulfil whatever mission she had set out to do.
Berta turned, too—back to her overstuffed chair. She crawled up on it and tucked her feet back under herself. If Mama saw her, she’d scold. But Mama couldn’t see her. Not from the bedroom where she had gone to get the new baby—ages and ages ago. Berta took a bit of satisfaction from the fact that she was alone and able to put her feet up if she wished to. Yet guilt made her spread her skirts carefully over the tips of her shoes so they would be hidden from sight.
I don’t know why it takes so long,
she stormed again to herself
Mama’s been gone all day. All day. And Papa—Papa—
Berta had never been deserted in such a complete fashion in all her three years. She hated to be alone. She didn’t like the hushed suspense that hung around her. She didn’t like the hurrying of people who didn’t even stop to talk to her. And she didn’t think she was going to care much for that new baby, either. Already her cozy world had been changed.
Berta curled up against the back of the chair, stuffed fists against her eyes, and began to cry.
————
Even after the word finally came that she had a little sister, Berta was unable to see her mother.
“Not tonight,” her father told her as he cuddled her close on his lap and shared the good news.
“You have a baby sister. She’s strong and healthy—and—and beautiful.” And Berta had seen tears in her father’s eyes. It was the first time she had ever seen her father close to weeping. It disturbed her. She squirmed and turned her back on the uncomfortable sight. Was the new baby making her father cry, too?
“And Mama is fine. Just fine,” her father went on, his voice breaking.
Berta turned to stare into his face. If Mama was fine, what was making her papa’s eyes water and his voice sound funny?
“Why can’t I see her?” asked Berta.
“Mama is very tired tonight. She—”
“Why?” Berta was persistent. She stared into her father’s ashen face.
“Getting a new baby is very hard work,” her father informed her quietly. “And Mama had some—some difficulty—”
“Then why didn’t she just leave it,” said Berta emphatically, her hands punctuating her words. She missed her mother.
Her father’s lips twisted with a hint of a smile. He pulled Berta back against his chest and brushed her hair away from her face.
“You wait until you see your new sister,” he said, and his mood seemed to lighten. “She’s a beautiful little girl. You’ll have so much fun. She’ll be a wonderful playmate.”
“But I wanna see Mama.”
“In the morning. First thing in the morning I will take you to see Mama.”
“Why can’t I see her now?”
“Because. Because she’s very tired. The doctor has given her some medicine to help her sleep. She needs to rest.”
“But I—”
“Don’t make trouble, Berta.”
Her father’s voice sounded—different, strained.
“Are you sick?” she asked quickly.
“No. No—just very, very tired,” he answered. “I think we all need a good sleep.” He glanced up at the wall calendar and seemed to muse aloud. “June sixth, eighteen ninety-four—the longest day of my life. It’s truly been a long ordeal.”
Berta had no idea what an ordeal was—but she understood that it was not a pleasant circumstance, and she linked it to the new baby.
———
Berta was taken to her mother’s room the next morning as promised. Her father took her by the hand and led her there. It did not feel quite right to be tippy-toeing through the house as though someone was sick or sleeping. She had so hoped that by morning things would be put back to normal.
Her mother usually was never still in bed at this time in the morning. Something about seeing her lying there brought fear to the small girl’s heart. She wanted to ask her father, but there was no time. They were standing beside the bed, looking at her mother, who lay pale and limp against the white bedclothes. Her eyes were closed. Her hair was scattered about her shoulders and the white pillow. Berta turned quickly to her father, her eyes large with questions. Before she could ask any of them her mother stirred.
“Berta,” she murmured. “Berta,” she said in just the same way she had always spoken the name. “Come up here beside me, dear,” and she patted the quilt with her hand.
Berta felt herself being lifted up and placed beside her mother on the bed. Then her mother’s arm was about her—patting her shoulder, giving her a hug.
“Have you seen your new sister?” asked her mama.
Berta shook her head. “I wanted to see you,” she said, her lips trembling.
The arm about her tightened. “I’ve missed you,” her mother said in a whispery voice.
“I missed you, too,” said Berta. “It took a long time—”
“Yes. Yes—it did take a long time. But it was worth it. Every minute of it. You’ll think so too. Just wait—wait until you see your new baby sister. She’s beautiful.”
Her mother smiled.
Berta squirmed, still uncomfortable about the new baby. She changed the subject. “It’s time to get up,” she announced to her mother. “We’re gonna have breakfast now.”
Berta couldn’t understand why her mother and father both chuckled.
“Mama won’t be getting up for breakfast today,” her father said. “She’ll have her breakfast in bed.”
“Why?” asked Berta.
“Mama needs to stay in bed and rest for several days,” her father explained. “It’s hard work getting a new baby sister. Mama needs lots of rest.”
