The Bluebird and the Sparrow (12 page)
Feeling sick, she turned from the scene and walked quickly away. She would never willingly pass that way again.
———
Berta gladly accepted the invitation to share Christmas with the family at her grandmother’s house. It would seem like old times—almost.
Of course Glenna would not be there. It was much too far for Glenna and Parker to travel during the short break he had from his classes.
Uncle John and Aunt Cee would be there. So would the married Ada and her husband Peter who farmed nearby. They would bring with them little Peter, Henry, and baby Mirabelle. Berta still found it hard to believe that her cousin already was the mother of three little ones.
William and his new bride would also be there. Berta did not know Constance well.
Dorcas would be absent. Much to Aunt Cee’s regret, her new son-in-law had decided that a move was in the best interest of his family, and he had led Dorcas off to the big city many miles away where he was employed in sales for a furniture store. The move had been hard on Aunt Cee. She did not have the future hope of a return of her youngest, as Mrs. Berdette did of Glenna.
The day turned out to be quite different than Berta had expected. Her grandmother was no longer able to take over the meal preparation. She supervised and gave instructions from her chair by the large kitchen table.
Ada was much too busy with her three little ones to be able to assist the other ladies, and William’s new bride still felt uncertain and bashful and held back. Aunt Cee was having some difficulty with a bothersome back—so it turned out that Berta and her mother had to cook most of the dinner and then clean it all up. Berta did not mind, but she was weary by day’s end and only too happy to retire early.
As she undressed and slipped into her warm flannel gown, she felt a nagging worry in the back of her mind. Was her mother ill or was she simply showing her age? Was caring for her grandmother too much for the slight woman? Mrs. Berdette seemed devoid of her past energy. Her face had looked so drawn by the end of the tiring day. Was it just normal weariness—or was something else the matter with her mother?
She wondered if she should write Glenna about her concern, and then quickly dismissed the thought. It would only trouble Glenna, and there was nothing the girl could do for the situation. Besides, Berta might be wrong. Her mother might be totally renewed after a good night’s sleep. After all, she was tired herself. It had been a long, hard day. It was normal to feel weary.
Berta forced herself to dismiss her worrisome thoughts—but she determined that in her two remaining days at her grandmother’s, she would keep a close eye on her mother.
———
Berta discovered that Mrs. Berdette still seemed to be weary even after her night’s sleep. Berta had asked her mother about it as they prepared cold turkey sandwiches in the kitchen the next day.
“I’m fine,” her mother maintained. “Just a bit tired. Granna has trouble sleeping, and I often need to get up with her in the night.”
“ To do what?” asked Berta frankly.
Her mother shrugged. “That’s the sad thing,” she replied with a little shrug of her shoulders. “There isn’t much that I can do. Sometimes I make her some herb tea or rub her limbs. Or rearrange her pillows. But there really is not much I can do for her. I feel so sorry for Mama. She does suffer dreadfully.”
Berta looked at the rather frail-looking woman before her. She loved her grandmother dearly, but she feared what constant care of the elderly woman was doing to her mother.
She opened her mouth to broach the subject and then changed her mind. Instead she turned their attention to her sister. “I thought you were planning a trip to see Glenna,” she said.
Her mother’s face brightened. “Oh, I’d love to, if only—”
“Surely Aunt Cee can see to Granna for a short time. They live right in the yard.”
Her mother still hesitated.
“I’ll speak to Aunt Cee and Uncle John,” Berta volunteered. “We’ll see what can be arranged.”
Mrs. Berdette still did not answer, but her eyes held a look of hope and deep gratitude. She reached out and ran a hand down the cheek of her eldest daughter.
———
Berta was happy to return to the peace and quiet of her own little house. It was so nice to be on her own. To have no one else to demand her attention or trouble her thoughts. But, she had to admit, it was also dreadfully quiet and somewhat empty as well.
She had talked with Uncle John and Aunt Cee, and they shared her concern about her mother. Readily they agreed that a trip to see Glenna would be good for her and give her a chance to get some much-needed rest. They assured Berta that they would take care of Granna.
———
And so arrangements were made and Berta saw her mother off on the eastbound train. Excitement filled Mrs. Berdette’s eyes and flushed her pale cheeks as she waved goodbye from the train window.
But with the departure of her mother for the planned two months with Glenna, Berta’s world seemed even more empty and forlorn. She hadn’t realized what it meant just to know that her mother was close-by. Just to be able to greet her casually on Sunday morning—even if they didn’t have time to really chat.
“Maybe Glenna’s right,” Berta said reluctantly to herself one day. “Maybe it helps to be more involved with the church.”
Berta determined to pay a visit to the pastor of the small congregation to find some place of service.
“I have a good deal of time to offer,” she informed him when they met. “My evenings are quite free. I have only myself to care for, and as I’m an organized person it really doesn’t take me much time to tend to my daily tasks.”
Pastor Jenkins smiled and welcomed Berta. He said there was a need for a worker with the children. Berta was glad to be actively involved again. She had taught Sunday school as a teenager and had enjoyed the experience. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed the children until she began to work with them again. She diligently prepared for each class, using books from the library for additional background and occasionally bringing an appropriate story to read to the children. Soon she could hardly wait for Sunday morning so she might welcome and be welcomed by newly scrubbed, smiling faces.
One duty led to another and soon Berta’s evenings, Sundays, and Saturday afternoons were more than full. She reserved Saturday morning to hastily do the tasks that her home demanded and crowded other small chores into the extra minutes she could find here and there. Soon she was so busy she hardly had time to work everything in—but she liked it that way. At least she wasn’t bored. And she wasn’t getting lean and pale faced and introverted like Miss Phillips. No one could accuse her of becoming the typical old-maid librarian, stern faced and self-absorbed. Could they?
She wasn’t quite sure. She still was totally wrapped up in her own little sphere. Her interests had just shifted a bit. Instead of spending all her time stacking books, she was now aligning children and ordering their religious world with a practiced and controlling hand.
It’s a good life,
she told herself. Rewarding and satisfactory. Most of the time she convinced herself that it was true.
————
Dear Berta,
How can I ever thank you for sending Mama to me? I knew that I missed her dreadfully, but I didn’t know just how much until I saw her get off that train.
I’m afraid the trip tired her. She looks quite drawn and pale. Parker says he will find her a good tonic. By the time she returns to you we will have her feeling great!!!
Berta stopped reading. So it wasn’t her imagination. Her mama was worn out from the care of their grandmother. Berta was thankful she had taken the initiative. Glad that Uncle John and Aunt Cee had agreed to release her mother from her care giving.
I do hope that Parker finds a good tonic,
she mused as she let her eyes fall back to Glenna’s letter.
It was the usual news—of new friends, church activities, and Parker’s busyness. Berta scanned the pages quickly. She had to prepare for an evening of Bible lessons with the seven-and eight-year-olds.
————
“I have the most exciting news,” wrote Glenna several weeks later. “You are going to be an auntie! Parker and I are so excited. And Mama is thrilled that she will be a grandmother.…”
Berta let her eyes drift from the page. A baby. For Glenna. It hardly seemed possible—and yet her little sister had now been married for over four years. Even though Berta had felt Glenna had been much too young to marry, time had been slipping by. Berta could not now claim that Glenna was too young to be a mother. Many girls Glenna’s age had more than one child.
“It doesn’t seem possible,” Berta mused aloud.
With the reminder of Glenna’s age, Berta could not help but think of her own. She would soon be twenty-five. A veritable old maid.
That didn’t seem possible either.
Berta did not like the thought. She tried to shift her mind from it by going back to Glenna’s letter.
“I have a doctor for a husband now. Just imagine that! Parker is working with an older doctor here in the city. He wishes to put in two years, and then we will be home. I can hardly wait. You will be able to spoil your niece—or nephew.”
Berta wasn’t sure how much spoiling she would do. Suddenly she wasn’t even sure she wanted Glenna to come back to town. The thought surprised and embarrassed her.
There was such a contrast between her life and Glenna’s. Glenna had it all. Looks and … yes, her prettiness had made life easy for her. Now she had a husband and happiness, and soon she was going to add a child to her good fortune. Glenna wouldn’t say good fortune. She thought it smacked too much of chance. Glenna would carefully say “blessings,” attributing everything that happened for good in her life to God.
Well, if God was responsible and He loved everyone, why did He decide to favor some and withhold from others?
Berta mused. Why did Glenna get the lion’s share? It wasn’t fair.
Suddenly Berta rose and tossed the letter on the small table beside her chair. Life was so desperately—uneven. It made her angry. The routine life of busyness—of work, of church, of housekeeping—that she thought she had learned to accept, now seemed cold—and lifeless. Without meaning.
Her frustration drove her to pacing. The little house that she had so longed to have as her own no longer seemed cozy, but confining.
She had to get out. Berta grabbed a shawl from the entry hall and went out into the evening to walk. She let her agitation drive her at a brisk pace over the sidewalks—street by street.
She was several blocks from home before her steps began to slow.
Look at you,
she scolded herself.
Glenna writes you good news, and you can’t even rejoice with her. You should be writing a letter of excited congratulations, and here you are walking off your snit.
Well, it’s unfair,
she argued back.
Glenna already has all she needs for happiness.
And what does one need for happiness?
an inner voice seemed to probe.
The thought nearly brought Berta to a halt. She had never really thought about it before.
Well, I—I—
She had good health. A job that, for the most part, she enjoyed. A little home all her own. Meaningful activity to keep both her mind and body busy. What was it she was lacking?
A spouse? No. No, she wasn’t sure that she even wanted one. She liked her independence. She liked to be free to make her own way. Then, if she didn’t wish to be married, why was she inwardly jealous of Glenna for the fact that she was?
Berta could not even untangle her own thinking. She just knew that she felt empty—alone—and she had now made the sorrowful discovery that busyness was not going to fill the void in her life.
Mrs. Berdette had returned to her duties with Granna by the time Glenna’s “darling baby” arrived, a boy whom they named James Edward after his two grandfathers. In spite of Berta’s feelings of resentment toward Glenna, who seemed to have life’s smile with regularity, it had been hard at first for her to wait to see the child. But eventually she nearly forgot she had a nephew. Time and distance almost put the little one out of her mind.
She still fretted about her mother and made trips to her grandmother’s farm to check on the woman. She even purchased a fine mare and a light buggy so the trips might be made more quickly, more often, and in comfort. She enjoyed the mare and the sense of freedom the animal brought with her, but she had no desire to be responsible for her daily grooming and care. So she boarded the animal at a stable on the edge of town.
Her mother did seem a bit rested and restored to her earlier vitality when she had first returned home from her trip to Glenna’s, but she very quickly began to look peaked and strained again. It worried Berta. Yet her mother never complained of being in pain or more tired than she should be.
Berta knew it was a burden for the woman, getting on in years herself, to be caring for the elderly Granna. But she didn’t know what could be done about it.
She continued her activities with the children of the little congregation. She had faced the fact that bustling about was no substitute for inner satisfaction and peace, but doing so did help to fill many lonely, restless hours. For that much she was thankful.
Miss Phillips continued her duties at the library, but Berta secretly wondered how much longer the frail woman would be able to work. Berta was sure she was not eating right and was often tempted to talk to the woman about the fact. But Miss Phillips was so distant. So reserved. It was most difficult to speak to her about anything.
Tw o years slowly moved by, and in spite of Berta’s underlying dissatisfaction, her life continued on in the same daily manner. With deadly certainty, each calendar month was pulled from the wall and discarded in her kitchen wastebasket. Nothing seemed to really change from day to day, month to month. Her life seemed to be one dull and uninteresting sequence of little routine events.
And then came the day she flipped a page in her daily reminder and saw the note she had written to herself: “Meet Glenna’s train. 2:34.”
