Love's unending legacy (Love Comes Softly #5) (23 page)

188

Like to git things in order an' a small herd out on the range as soon as the spring grasses start to grow. We've talked to Lane. With a bit of persuasion, I think he would stay fer a while. Maybe care fer things till a buyer comes along. Iffen he agrees, we hope to git on back there as soon as we can."

Marty felt a small stirring in her breast, a stirring of hope. Maybe Ellie wouldn't need to leave her so quickly after all. Marty knew that Ellie and Lane were making plans, but she hadn't asked what the plans were. Ellie would tell her in her own good time.

Marty served coffee and cake to their visitors and listened to the talk circulating around and around her. It was good to share in such enthusiasm--in such dreams--even if they did belong to another.

Ellie had sat enraptured, drinking in every piece of news about Lane's West. She wanted to feel a part of it so she might feel at home when she finally arrived. She wanted to know and love it just as Lane did. She felt that something about the bigness of the West would correspond to the bigness of the man.

"Have ya heard," Ellie asked her mother, "they want Lane to stay on an' care fer the farm till it sells in the spring?"

"Is he goin' to?"

"It's sort of an answer to prayer," replied Ellie enthusiastically. Marty looked up from her mending.

"Lane and me thought he would have to leave soon. Which meant I would need to travel alone later."

"Why later?" asked Marty.

"Oh, Mama, you know very well I wouldn't up an' leave ya before thet new baby comes. An' I don't plan to leave ya right away afterward, either. Not till yer well on yer feet an' I'm sure things are goin' fine."

"That would have been a problem," agreed Marty.

"The biggest problem would have been our weddin'. We

189

talked of two possibilities ... an' I didn't care fer either of 'em. We could have been married now an' Lane gone on alone an' me come later. I wouldn't like losin' a husband so soon after I'd gotten one," she said, smiling shyly. "Or," she continued, "we could've waited an' been married when I got out there. I didn't like thet, either, 'cause it would have meant you an' Pa wouldn't have been at my weddin'."

"I wouldn't have liked thet, either," admitted Marty.

"So ya see, this is sorta an answer to prayer," Ellie repeated. "We can git married soon after yer baby is born an' I can stay on here and help ya in the daytime, an' we can live over in the LaHaye house. Callie has already promised us thet we can."

It sounded good to Marty. Ellie would not need to leave for a few months yet. Marty would welcome each additional day. "Sounds like ya got it all sorted out."

"We been workin' on it."

"So when do ya plan the weddin'?"

"Well, thet there little one is due the end of February, right?" "According to my calculations."

"So we thought we could be married 'bout the end of March. Thet way ya won't wear yerself all out gittin' right into a weddin' after the baby comes, an' after the weddin' I can still come over days to help ya out."

"Land sakes, girl. You've really spoiled me. Ya think I won't be able to care fer yer pa an' the little one after a month of time?" "Well, we don't want to rush ya, Mama."

Marty blinked away tears. Ellie was more than considerate as a daughter.

"Look here, dear," she said. "I'm in no hurry to lose ya ... ya know thet ... but ya go ahead an' make yer plans just as ya would have 'em to be. Don't stop to fit all of yer life round me. I'm just fine now, an' I'll be just fine after this here little one gits here."

Ellie crossed to put her arms around Marty. "I'll tell Lane thet the end of March is fine, then," she said.

190

TWENTY-FOUR
Church and Home

Clark was out milking the roan when Pastor John rode up. His smile was broad and his handshake firm as he joined Clark in the barn. "It worked," he beamed. "We don't have to take the next step. And more importantly, we don't need to take away his membership."

Clark responded to his smile with an enthusiasm of his own. "Just wait till I git done with Roanie here, an' I want to hear all 'bout it," he said. "I'm near done."

The pastor walked about the barn, stopped to pet a cat, and strolled around some more. Clark could tell he was anxious to share his experience. He hurried to finish up with Roanie.

Clark hung his pail, brimming with foaming milk, well out of the reach of the barn cats and pulled a stool over for himself and one for the preacher.

"Sit ya down," he offered, and the parson sat.

"Went to see him as I said I would," Pastor John began. "It was kind of tough, I don't mind telling you that. Didn't know just where or how to start, but we did get to the point. I told it to him just like it had been told to me. Then I said I wanted to hear it from him. Was it true or not true? At first, he was very ambiguous. I thought sure I would get nowhere. I was even expecting him to outright deny it. He was getting a little angry, too, and I thought maybe I had really missed it." The man looked around the barn for a moment.

191

"Well, I decided that we'd better stop right there," he continued, "before things got out of hand. So I said, `Mind if we have prayer before we go on with this? I consider you my friend and brother, and I don't want to lose you as either.` He looked surprised but he bowed his head. We prayed together, and pretty soon I could hear his sobs. Clark, he cried like a baby. Don't know of anything that ever was harder for me than that man's sobs."

The young preacher stopped, his face full of emotion. "Finally, we were able to kneel down there together, and he confessed it all to the Lord and promised to make the thing right ... as right as one can. Some sins one can't erase, Clark, but you know that. I expect that his past might haunt him more than once in the future. He knows it, too. We've got to really pray for him. It's not all over yet. Maybe never will be. That's the trouble with sin. It leaves ugly scars."

Clark nodded in agreement.

"I did leave him feeling forgiven and clean again, though. He said that he was so glad to be rid of the thing that he just couldn't rightly express it. I'm glad I went ... though it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

"I'm glad ya went, too," Clark assured him.

"Well, the next thing for me to do was to go call on ..." Parson Brown stopped and grinned, "my source."

Clark grinned, too, and nodded again.

"First time I went I didn't find him at home. Next day I got busy again and couldn't. Mrs. Watley had another bad spell, so I spent the day with the family."

"How is she?"

"She's perked up again. Can't believe the stamina of the woman. We've thought so many times that she was going, and she seems to fight it off every time. Well, I finally got back to my `source` yesterday. I told him just what I've told you. I wasn't sure how he would respond. Thought maybe, in light of things, and fearing a public knowledge about it and all, he might still want to

192

put the fellow out of the church. Well, Clark, when I told him, great big tears started running down his cheeks and he just kept saying, `Praise the Lord` over and over. `We've still got our brother,` he said, `Praise the Lord!`"

Clark was deeply touched, and he could tell Parson John was, too. They sat in silence for a minute, each with his own thoughts. Clark broke the spell.

"So we will be worshipin' with 'im on Sunday." It was a statement, not a question.

"He's part of the body. A worthy part, I'm thinking."

"Like your `source` says," smiled Clark, "`Praise the Lord.`"

"I'm so glad I came to you, Clark. You steered me in the right direction."

"Now, back up some," interjected Clark. "I don't recall steering you nohow."

"But you--"

"We
talked 'bout it. We talked together 'bout what the Word says. You knew what it says. You made yer decision. You really knew what to do all along. Iffen ya think back a bit, you'll remember."

The preacher thought back a bit. He grinned. "I still needed you, though," he insisted. "Needed an older, wiser man to think it through with me. But thanks. I see now. You didn't push or steer me. You let me work it through myself--step by step, with the Word to guide me. You could have just out and told me what to do, but you didn't. Thanks, Clark. I think I've learned a bigger lesson this way. Maybe next time I'll be smart enough to go through the Word step by step on my own."

Clark put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Ain't no harm in sharin' a burden with a brother. I'm here anytime I can be of help. Remember thet."

"I will," said the preacher. "And thank you."

"Now," said Clark, lifting the pail of milk from the hook and

193

reaching for his crutch, "let's go see iffen the coffeepot has any fresh coffee."

Another letter came from Luke. As usual, the note was brief since he didn't have much time to write. He told them he was writing at a time he really should be studying. He was thinking a lot about his mother. Was she taking good care of herself and the coming baby? He gave doctorly advice as to what she should be eating, how much exercise she should be getting, and the danger of overdoing. Marty smiled as she read. How strange it was to have her "baby" mothering her. No, not mothering--doctoring. Luke would make a good doctor, as long as he could keep from becoming too personally involved with each of his patients. Marty didn't want to even think of the day when Luke would lose one of those he treated. The day would come. All doctors had to face it. It would be hard for Luke. He was so tender to the pain of others. Marty prayed that he might be able to handle it without too much anguish.

Clae wrote again, too. They had seen Luke briefly. He had come home with them for Sunday dinner following the church service. The kids loved him. Baby Joey had a tooth. He had been miserable cutting it but was his happy self again once the tooth was finally through. Clae hoped they didn't have to go through the same thing with each tooth that he cut.

Arnie and Anne came for Sunday dinner. It was the biggest gathering the Davises had had for many Sundays. Kate and Clare came from next door, and Nandry and Josh and the children came, too. It was so good to see Nandry able to laugh and joke with the rest of them. She looked younger and happier than she had in years. Lane came, too, as he did each Sunday. He and Ellie took much teasing, but they didn't seem to mind it. The whole house

194

looked as if it was vibrating with the chatter and laughter. Marty looked about her and quietly thanked God for each one of them. Tina was getting so grown up. She was almost a little lady, and Marty had to realize that it would not be long until her grandchildren, too, would be leaving their nests.
My, there's no other way to say it ... how time does fly,
she reminded herself with a wry smile.

In spite of the enjoyment of her family, Marty felt especially weary when the day came to an end and the last of the visitors had put on coats and headed for home--the last of the visitors except for Lane. He and Ellie were still talking in the kitchen, their voices low and full of love and hope. Marty turned to Clark and said she thought she would just go on up to bed.

Clark's eyes went to the clock. "A mite early yet, ain't it?" he remarked, slight concern in his voice.

Marty too, looked at the clock. She couldn't believe the evening was still so young. Had the clock stopped? But no, it was still ticking, and it said only ten minutes to eight. She gave him a tired smile. "Well," she said, "it was a big day. Not used to so many of 'em all at once, I guess. It's been quite a spell since they all been here together."

Clark nodded and rose from his chair. "Yer right," he said. "Yer wise to git off yer feet," and he came over to walk with her up the stairs, giving her aid without seeming to.

Marty readied herself for bed and crawled beneath the warm covers. How good it felt to just stretch out and commit one's weary body to the softness of the bed. Yer
gittin' old,
Marty told herself.
Ya gotta admit it. Yer showin' yer age.
She sincerely hoped she wasn't yet as old as she felt on this night. She was so weary, yet she didn't really feel she was ready to sleep.

When Clark came up to bed much later, Marty was still awake. She had shifted her position often, trying to find a comfortable way to rest. It didn't help much.

Clark stroked her forehead. "Are ya feelin' okay?" he asked. "Ya seem mighty restless."

195

"Guess I just overtired myself a bit," she responded. "Either thet or I just came to bed too early. Not used to goin' to sleep at eight o'clock."

"It's now ten-thirty," Clark told her.

"Oh," said Marty. There was a moment of silence. "Then I s'pect I'll be able to drop off anytime now"

Marty did eventually manage to fall into a light and fidgety sleep.

It was about two o'clock in the morning when Clark was awakened. He wasn't sure at first what it was that brought him to consciousness, and then he felt Marty stir and heard a slight moan escape her. He could tell she still wasn't fully awake, but he knew she wasn't sleeping soundly, either. He waited for a moment and the sound came again.

"Marty," he said, laying a hand lightly on her arm. "Marty, are ya all right?"

Marty stirred and opened her eyes. Clark could just faintly see her face in the moonlight that streamed in their window. "Are ya all right?"

"I fergot to pull the blind," Marty mumbled.

"Ferget the blind. Are ya okay?"

Marty shook her head. "I don't know. I ... I think so. It's just ... just ..."

"Just what?" insisted Clark.

"I don't know. Havin' a hard time sleepin'."

"Is it the baby?"

"The baby? The baby's all right."

"Is it time?" persisted Clark, feeling like shaking Marty to bring her to full consciousness.

"Time? Time fer the baby?" Marty's eyes flew wide open. "Clark," she said, excitement in her voice, "maybe thet's it. Maybe it's time fer the baby!"