The Bluebird and the Sparrow (13 page)
At least this would be a bit of diversion.
She had already arranged to leave the library early. Uncle John and Aunt Cee had promised to bring her mother in from the farm. Berta had invited them all to her little house for tea after they collected Glenna, Parker, and little James. She wasn’t quite sure if her intentions were really to welcome Glenna or if she merely wanted to show off her comfortable home to her sister.
Still struggling with conflicting emotions, she wished Glenna would just stay where she was. She seemed quite content there. Why didn’t Parker continue to practice medicine alongside the older doctor with whom he had been working? On the other hand, she felt unexplainable excitement at the thought of seeing Glenna again. Glenna was the one person—besides her parents—who seemed quite willing to accept her as she was. Perhaps even love her. Glenna was, and had always been, her champion. For some strange reason, her sister seemed to look up to her, and even to stand up for her.
Berta could not untangle her feelings about Glenna. Life wasn’t fair. Perhaps God wasn’t even fair—she hadn’t settled that question in her mind. But was any of that really Glenna’s fault?
So it was with a strange mixture of thoughts and emotions that Berta surveyed her tea preparations one last time, put on her best black skirt, her new white shirtwaist, and her smart but simple bonnet, picked up her shawl and her gloves, and set out for the train station.
When the train was only ten minutes late, Berta decided it must be some kind of record—it could never be counted on to make the run on time, and folks usually didn’t start seriously watching for it until an hour or more beyond schedule.
As they stared down the tracks, Berta noticed that her mother’s cheeks were flushed with excitement, her eyes bright. The woman had not yet held her grandson, and Berta knew she could hardly contain her emotions.
The tired locomotive rounded the bend with weary chugs and wafting smoke to make its way into the station. Berta found herself standing with rigid shoulders and straight back. For whatever reason, she felt challenged by Glenna’s return.
Was she still trying to compete with the younger woman?
The thought was a strange one. Compete? For what? They now lived in two different worlds. Glenna’s life very likely would only rarely touch her own. Oh, certainly there was their mother. But she would be their only common interest.
Mama and Granna,
thought Berta. Even Uncle John and Aunt Cee were seldom around anymore. Their own family had expanded and took most of their time and attention.
So Berta lifted her chin and waited for the train to jerk to a halt.
They were the last passengers to disembark. Glenna and Parker stood in the doorway, both with their arms filled with “things.” Berta found herself straining to locate the baby, but she saw none. Her gaze returned to Glenna. The years had been more than kind to her. With maturity she had blossomed. If she had been pretty as a young girl—she was lovely now. Lovely and poised and filled with a look of such
satisfaction.
Her face, now flushed with excitement, was a study in beautiful tranquility.
And then Berta saw a red-capped attendant behind them holding a small boy by the hand.
“Where’s the baby?” she heard her mother murmur, and Uncle John responded with a hearty, “Think that wee boy belongs to her?”
Berta heard her mother gasp. “Surely not,” she argued.
But Berta knew it was true. They had all been expecting Glenna to return with a baby in arms. But two years had passed. Little James was no longer an infant.
And then the two little groups were intertwining.
What a noisy knot of people they made, each one exclaiming and welcoming the others with hugs and greetings, little James claiming the most. At last they began to sort themselves out, and Berta was able to again extend her invitation and suggest that they make their way to her home. There was not room for everyone in Uncle John’s buggy.
“I’ll walk,” responded Berta. “By the time you gather the luggage and get it loaded, I’ll have the teakettle on.”
“Oh, could I walk with you?” cried Glenna. “I have been shut up in that slow-moving, cramped train for such a long time. I’d love to stretch my legs. Do you mind, dear?” and she turned to Parker.
And so Berta and Glenna started off through the streets of the town.
“How have you been, Berta? You look marvelous,” exclaimed Glenna.
Berta could have “humphed” at the remark. She knew that she did not look marvelous. Glenna looked marvelous. She let Glenna’s wild statement pass without comment.
“James must keep you busy,” she responded instead.
Glenna gave her a look of teasing exasperation. “Oh, that is the understatement of the century,” she breathed, then laughed. “He is such a delight,” she hurried on, “but an awful lot of energy. Parker is so good with him. Lets him run off a little of that excess liveliness each evening when he comes home.”
“I’m surprised Parker gets evenings at home,” Berta put in. “I thought doctors were always on call.”
“Well, yes—and no,” said Glenna. “They take rotations—take turns.”
“Do you expect that to continue here?”
Glenna shook her head. “I’ve no idea. But I don’t suppose so. Parker will be establishing his own practice. He will need to be on call for all his patients. It’s bound to be different.”
She took a deep breath and looked about as she walked. “Oh, it’s so good to be back home. Have things changed much?”
Berta tried to replay the years since Glenna had left their town. Yes, things had changed—yet much had stayed the same.
“I guess the farm will be the biggest change you’d notice,” she said slowly.
“They changed it?”
“It’s gone.”
“Gone?” Glenna’s eyes grew wide at the thought. “What did they do?” she asked, her voice tremulous.
“They’ve torn it all down. Built houses there. I don’t even go out past the place anymore.”
“I can’t imagine. It was a beautiful little house. Why would anyone wish to tear it down?”
“They call it progress,” said Berta with an exasperated sigh.
They walked in silence for several moments.
“What do you think about Mama?” asked Glenna suddenly.
Berta looked at her younger sister, worry showing in the deep blue eyes.
“I—I think that … she’s failing,” replied Berta, wanting to be completely honest, yet hating the truth.
Glenna nodded solemnly.
“I had hoped the tonic … ” She let the words trail off.
“It’s too hard for her to care for Granna,” put in Berta, “but I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Is it just Granna’s care, or is Mama—?”
“I don’t know,” said Berta, shaking her head. “But it certainly doesn’t help for her to have to miss night after night of sleep.”
“Maybe Parker can help Granna,” mused Glenna aloud.
Perhaps that was the answer.
As the two sisters approached the little house, Berta felt she had everything well under control. She had spent the evening before preparing everything for her guests except for the very last-minute tasks. But still she hurried into the house, removed her gloves, hat, and shawl, and proceeded on to the kitchen while Glenna moved about exclaiming over this and fingering that. Berta had known how Glenna would respond, and her face flushed with pleasure at Glenna’s comments.
But she had to get busy if things were to be ready when the buggy-load of visitors appeared at her door.
Glenna soon came to help her, still expressing her delight with Berta’s lovely little home.
They were just setting out the sandwiches and cakes when Berta heard the others arrive. From then on the house was filled with a flurry of activity. Berta quickly settled everyone according to her plan—except for the young James. He seemed to be everywhere at once. Berta had never worked with such a distraction underfoot before. She feared she would be running into the small boy with a tray of hot tea. And she kept an alert eye on his rovings as he surveyed her prized possessions.
Has he been taught to keep hands off? she
wondered. Would Glenna or Parker keep their eye on the boy?
By the time Berta had finished serving, she was exhausted by nervous tension. She could hardly wait for everyone to go home so she could clean up and get things back to her comfortable, tidy, normal ways.
“I hope they never bring that child here again,” she muttered when the door finally closed and she was alone.
But as she surveyed her little domain, except for used teacups and plates of leftover sandwiches and cakes, the room’s furnishings had not been damaged.
“Well—I guess I was lucky this time,” she breathed with a sigh of relief. Had she been honest, she would have acknowledged that the ambitious little boy had been held well in check.
———
Parker and Glenna settled in a newer community in the town of Allsburg, and Parker set up his practice. From the start it seemed to flourish. Apart from the fact that he was now so busy that they rarely had family time together, Glenna seemed extremely happy.
Berta was prepared to settle back into her familiar routine—but Glenna seemed equally determined to shake her world up a bit. Berta occasionally felt put out by her intrusions, at the same time hesitantly admitting to herself that they did add some spark to life.
Glenna’s new mothering role appeared to be extended to include her sister, and Berta wondered if Glenna thought she needed her help to be happy. She resisted, assuring Glenna in her own way that she was totally in control of her own life and liked it quite as it was. Of course, it wasn’t entirely true, but Berta secretly wondered if there was such a thing as total happiness.
But Glenna seemed happy.
She had shared the secret that she was expecting her second child—and even though the energetic Jamie seemed to keep her continually on the run, she said she was excited about the idea of pairing him up with another. Berta could not fully appreciate her attitude, but she accepted it. Glenna herself seemed to have boundless energy. Berta was sure that she would need every ounce of it once she had two youngsters running around.
One Wednesday afternoon Berta was busy filing library cards when Glenna burst in upon her, face glowing, eyes bright. With a nod of her head she motioned Berta toward the small private room that they had used on occasion for personal discussions. Berta soundlessly got up and followed.
“Oh, Berta,” exclaimed Glenna when she had shut the door. “I’ve just met the most perfect man.”
Berta stared.
You already have a man,
was her first thought, but Glenna bubbled on.
“Can you come for dinner Sunday? I’ve invited—”
What was her sister saying? Did she think—? Berta’s lips closed firmly in a thin, stubborn line.
Yes, she did. Glenna was about to lend a helping hand to find her a desirable suitor.
With a look of angry dismissal, Berta spun on her heel and left the small room, her plain black skirt swishing against the hard oak floor, anger spilling out with each step she took.
This simply was going too far. Too far. She had no intention of letting Glenna—or anyone—try to match her up with a man. She didn’t want a man. Didn’t want energetic children rushing about her skirts, demanding her total time and attention.
Berta returned to her file cards, her mind still whirling with angry thoughts.
After some time Glenna appeared, her eyes looking as though she had been crying.
“Berta,” she whispered in a quiet voice. “I’m so sorry.”
Berta only gave her a cold look and returned to her cards.
Glenna slipped away.
Gradually Berta’s anger subsided. It really hadn’t been such a terrible thing to do. There was no question that Glenna had been out of line, but she hadn’t been malicious. She really hadn’t intended—
But Berta found it very difficult to forgive.
It wasn’t until she sat before her own fireplace, empty cup in hand that she let her true feelings come to the surface.
Don’t you know that men don’t want a plain woman?
she cried as though Glenna was in her thoughts listening to her argument.
You were born pretty. You don’t know what it is to be—plain.
Berta had never allowed herself to use a term like “ugly.” She didn’t want to be thought of as ugly and, in truth, she recognized that she really was not. It would have been an exaggeration—and Berta told herself that she was always honest and straightforward. She prided herself in taking things head on. In facing them. Accepting them. Then she moved on.
But there were feelings concerning Glenna that she had never really understood. Even now, she refused to try to sort them out. They were too deep—too confusing—and perhaps too painful. Berta pushed them aside and went to take her cup and saucer back to the kitchen for washing.
She was exhausted. She would retire early.
Glenna never again brought up the matter of the fine man she had met. Nor did she ever try to set Berta up with any other gentlemen.
Others did.
On more than one occasion Berta was invited to dinner by a kind family of the church and found herself seated at the table beside some eligible bachelor in whom she had no interest and with whom she had no intention of pursuing any type of a relationship.
She always went home disgusted and angry from such engagements. She began making excuses to turn down invitations—not knowing just which ones might turn out to be a matchmaking attempt. This only increased her reputation as withdrawn and unfriendly—but she did not care. She refused to let people interfere in her life.
She thought that now she was beginning to understand Miss Phillips better. Perhaps the older woman had gone through the same routine. No wonder she now stayed close to home in her evenings—with her books. At least she did not have to put on a show of pleasure when presented with some bachelor who had obviously already been rejected by most of the female population—and usually for good reason, thought Berta.
So Berta kept up with her activities. Her busy life kept her occupied and also provided her with an honest reason for not accepting invitations.
