Love's Unending Legacy Page 3

  The woods were cool and green, and Marty’s heart quickened with joy as she inhaled the fresh scent of the trees and the wild flowers beneath them. She hadn’t known how deeply she had missed the coolness and the scent of her woods. In Missie’s West they had not seen a truly wooded area. Marty stopped and watched a robin as it flew to a nearby limb with a worm in its beak. Soon tiny heads and open beaks appeared and began to chirp in unison to be fed. Marty smiled, but she sympathized with the busy mother.

  Down the path she walked until she could hear the soft gurgle of the spring. The stream was down some because of the lack of rain, but the water still ran clear and sparkling. Marty bent to touch its shimmering coolness as it whispered its way across the smooth stones that formed the bottom. How inviting it looked!

  Marty reached the spring, lowered herself to the ground, and reached out to trail a hand in the water. It was cold to her touch—so cool, in fact, that it made her fingers cramp. Marty wondered as before at this small miracle. How could waters gurgling forth from this tiny hillside in the woods be so cold? Where did the water come from, and how was it kept so cool in its underground travels? In her mind she could taste the sweetness of the cream and butter as they were lifted from the icy waters, even in midsummer.

  She cradled her hand in her apron to restore its warmth and sat still, watching the swiftly flowing water. A woodpecker drilled on a nearby tree. There was a scampering in the grass as a wood mouse scurried past. Marty watched a dragonfly dip and swirl over the creek waters. The woods were teeming with life, much of it out of sight and sound, she knew. She continued her silent vigil, listening and watching for any movement that took place about her.

  Marty loved the woods. It was such a refreshing place. Marty needed refreshing. Physically she was still bone weary from the long trip home. Emotionally she was drained from all the excitement of rejoining her family and exploring her beloved home and farm. She’d had many adjustments to make over the last year. She knew that life was full of adjustments; to live meant to change. But Marty, from the depths of her heart, thanked the Lord for the things that stayed constant in a changing world—even things as simple as a quiet stream and a gurgling spring.

  And Clark. She smiled and waved as his familiar figure appeared over the hill. She could tell he was concerned about her as he drew near and searched her face for the signs of extreme fatigue that had been there last night.

  “Mornin’,” he greeted her as he lowered himself to a spot at her side, using his crutch for support. “Ya didn’t sleep very long. How ya feelin’ today?”

  “I’m feelin’ some rested an’ so glad to be home, Clark!” Marty slipped her arm through his. “I’ll be good as new in just a few days, ’specially iffen I can sit here by the spring a spell.”

  “So yer aimin’ fer a life a’ leisure,” he teased, his loving squeeze on her hand belying his words. “Ya just go on sittin’ here long as ya like,” he assured her. “Ellie’s got everythin’ well in hand, an’ she likes bein’ busy.”

  “Thanks, Clark,” Marty said and kissed him good-bye as he rose.

  “I’ll be gittin’ back to the barn,” he said, brushing her cheek with his hand. “Ya can sit here till dinnertime iffen ya want.”

  Yes, Clark is an unchanging part of my life, Marty thought as she watched his tall figure disappear from sight. “Thank ya, Lord,” she whispered.

  Eventually Marty lifted herself from the grassy bank and headed back toward the bright sunlight and the house. She looked about her as she walked, understanding better the comments she had been hearing from one person or another ever since they had arrived home. The land needed rain. The fields needed rain. The streams needed rain. Marty’s eyes looked out across the neighboring pasture. The grass was short and beginning to turn brown. After coming from the arid West, even these parched meadows looked green. But Marty’s memory served to remind her that things should be much greener than this in the middle of June. She looked up, but the sun shone with a dazzling light out of a cloudless sky. Then Marty looked toward the horizon. No clouds appeared anywhere over the distant hills. There was no sign of rain in the immediate future.

  Marty crossed to the barn and reached a hand over the corral fence to stroke the neck of the big bay. Its teammate sauntered over for her share of the attention, and Marty patted her on the neck, too. She snorted at Marty’s outstretched hand, annoyed that it held no piece of apple or lump of sugar, and walked off—heading for the shade to escape the fierceness of the sun.

  Marty, too, walked on, past the chicken coop. The hens squawked and squabbled and fought over the watering trough. A big rooster strutted across the enclosure and crowed his challenge to the smaller male members of the flock. Marty noticed a number of hens with good-sized chicks scurrying about them. Ellie had cared well for the flock. There would be a fine supply of chicken for the fall and winter.

  Marty slowed as she came to the little log house she had called home for so many years. She still felt nostalgic as she looked at the fluffy curtains blowing in the open kitchen window. Kate was out back hanging some wash on the line. Marty called a good morning, and Kate waved in return.

  “I’m almost done. Can ya stop fer coffee?” her daughter-in-law invited.

  Marty could and did. She was anxious to see the home that Kate and Clare had made for themselves in the little log house. She followed Kate through the entry and into the tidy kitchen. There had been some changes at Kate’s hand—changes for the better, Marty reflected—but much of the cozy room was just as Marty remembered it.

  Kate poured the water into the kettle for coffee and measured the grounds. “I was hopin’ you’d have time to drop by today. I was achin’ to show ya our home. Isn’t it just perfect?”

  Marty agreed with a smile. That’s how she had always felt about this little home.

  After Kate had placed the water on to boil, she offered Marty a tour, and Marty was quick to accept. They entered the family living area, and Marty looked from the fireplace to the bookshelf—familiar things—to the couch and two armchairs, the small table and the grandfather clock—all unfamiliar things. The rugs on the floor and the curtains at the window were new, as well.

  They moved through the door to the room that had been Marty’s bedroom, the one she had first shared with the young Missie and later with baby Clare and then with her husband Clark. Marty stopped for a moment to remember that first year with Clark and his wonderful patience with her, his gentle caring, which had broken through the walls she had built around her broken heart.

  Marty looked about her at Kate’s bed covered in a deep, downfilled quilt. The chest against the wall held more drawers than the chest Marty had used. There was a comfortable chair beneath the window, with a cozy cushion embroidered in butterflies. A cedarlined chest stood in the corner. Marty openly admired the room and Kate looked pleased.

  They moved on then to a simply furnished spare bedroom. It contained only a bed, a chair, and a small table with a lamp on it. It was clean and airy, and Marty was sure a guest could feel quite comfortable and at home there.

  With a bit of a flush to her cheeks, Kate led her to the next room. A small workbench and a few tools lay scattered about, and Marty looked at several pieces of turned wood stacked neatly in a corner.

  “Clare makin’ somethin’?” she asked, and Kate flushed a bit deeper.

  “A crib,” she said. “We still aren’t quite sure yet if we’ll be needin’ it, but we’re hopin’. I scolded Clare last night fer speakin’ up when we aren’t really sure yet ourselves, but he’s just so excited, an ’ iffen it’s true an’ we really are, then—well, we want our two mas to be the first to know. Clare promised I could drive on over to see my ma this afternoon.”

  Marty put her arms around Kate and gave her a quick hug. “I’m so happy fer ya—fer ya both. I hope with all my heart thet yer right.”

  “Me too,” sighed Kate. “Clare would be so happy. He’s been waitin’ an’ waitin’.”

 
“But ya haven’t even been married a year yet,” Marty reminded her.

  “A year is a long time when yer waitin’ fer somethin’ ya want so badly,” Kate said in frustration and then laughed at herself.

  Marty laughed with her.

  “Well, I guess it really hasn’t been so long,” Kate went on, “but it has sure seemed long to Clare an’ me.”

  They returned to the kitchen to enjoy their coffee, and Marty listened as Kate talked about their plans for the coming baby—if one was really on the way. As Marty left Kate’s kitchen to return to her own, she prayed that Kate was right and that their dream would soon be fulfilled.

  Ellie looked up from kneading some bread dough as Marty entered. Marty felt a bit chagrined when she realized what her daughter was doing.

  “Oh, Ellie,” she said, “I should be doin’ thet instead of wanderin’ about like a thoughtless schoolgirl.”

  “Look, Ma, I’ve been doin’ this fer a long time now.”

  “I know—an’ it’s time ya had a break. Here I am back again, an’ ya still have to do all the work.”

  Ellie smiled. “The work’s not hurtin’ me none. Do ya feel a little better now thet you’ve seen everythin’ is as it should be?”

  “Guess I do. Not thet I doubted it would be…. It’s just thet I wanted to see iffen my memory served me accurately or if I’d built it all up to some fairy-tale dream.”

  “An’?”

  “It’s just as I remembered it. My memory played no tricks on me.”

  “Good,” said Ellie as she continued to knead the bread dough.

  “Had coffee with Kate,” Marty went on.

  “I saw ya go in.”

  “She has made Clare a nice little home. They do seem happy.”

  “She’s been a perfect wife for Clare. Iffen she isn’t in agreement with everythin’ he does, I never hear about it. Kate’s a dear.”

  Marty smiled. “It means everythin’ to a mother to hear thet her children are happily married to mates who love ’em just the way they are.”

  Ellie nodded and kept up her rhythm with the bread. “You’ll like Arnie’s girl, too,” she said. “Arnie’s a lucky guy.”

  “Arnie came in to see me last night and said he’d tell me all ’bout her as soon as we find some talkin’ time.”

  “Then I won’t spill any of his secrets,” assured Ellie as she efficiently placed the kneaded dough in the greased pan together with the rest of the batch. She covered it all with a white cloth and set it near the stove on a tall table built for the purpose.

  “I think I’ll go on up and unpack an’ care fer the things from the trip,” Marty said. “I was just too tired to do anythin’ with ’em last night.”

  “Ya still look a mite tired,” observed Ellie. “I think this has all been a heap harder on ya than ya will ever admit.”

  “I’m fine,” argued Marty. “In a day or two, after I catch up on a bit of sleep, I’ll be right as rain.”

  Ellie looked out at the brightness of the day. “Speakin’ of rain,” she said, frowning, “we sure are in need of some. I’ve already been totin’ water fer the garden, an’ it needs it again. We planted far too big a garden to be waterin’ it by the pailful.”

  “It sure is lookin’ fine right now,” Marty encouraged. “But yer right, it does need rain.”

  Ellie must have read Marty’s mind as she glanced at the clock. “Ya go on with yer unpackin’,” she urged. “I’ll look after gittin’ dinner on.”

  Marty thanked her and went on up to her room. As she climbed the stairs, she had to admit to herself that she was tired. Why, after dinner she might do an unheard of thing and lie down for a little nap. She wondered at Clark’s vigor. He must be just as tired as I am, but he seems to keep goin’ with no problem, she chided herself lightly. Marty then excused herself with the promise that after a day or two of adjusting, she would be her old self again.

  FOUR

  Happenings

  Marty and Arnie eventually found their talking time. Since Marty still had not felt too perky the next day, Ellie convinced her to sit on the porch with some hand sewing while Ellie herself continued with the duties of the kitchen. Arnie found his mother busy with some mending and sat down to talk to her about his Anne.

  Anne came from a family of four and was the daughter of Pastor Norville, who was in charge of the small church congregation in the nearby town. Anne had lost her mother when she was only eleven years old, and, being the only girl in the family, much of the running of the household had fallen upon her at that very young age. Arnie spoke of her with love in his voice, and Marty was more anxious than ever to meet the girl.

  “Do ya s’pose ya could bring her to dinner on Sunday?” Marty asked.

  “Sure thing. I’ll be seein’ her tomorra night. I’ll ask her then.”

  “Has she met most of the family?”

  “All but you an’ Pa.”

  There was a brief pause.

  “Do ya have any plans?” asked Marty quietly.

  Arnie colored slightly. “Sure, I got plans—but I haven’t spoken of ’em yet. I wanted you an’ Pa to meet her first.”

  “I see,” smiled Marty. “Sunday, then.”

  Arnie, whistling, left for the barn, and Marty watched him go with both pride and a little sorrow. Soon they would all be married, her children. How would she ever endure an empty and quiet house?

  Zeke LaHaye stopped by that evening. He wanted to hear all about his son Willie, about Missie and his two grandsons, and about the West they loved so much. Marty and Clark welcomed Zeke warmly, and as Marty put on the coffeepot, Zeke and Clark pulled chairs up to the kitchen table and settled in for a long visit.

  Clark’s enthusiasm was clear in his voice as he spoke of Willie’s ranch and described the spread in detail. He told about the herd, the buildings, the cowboys, the neighbors, the small but growing town, and the prosperity that Willie had worked so hard to achieve. When Marty joined them at the table, the talk turned to the family members. They laughed as they told Zeke about the antics of their shared grandchildren. Zeke joined in the laughter, but as he listened, the hungry look in his eyes deepened.

  “I think I’m just gonna take me a little trip out there,” he announced at length.

  “Thet’s a mighty fine idea,” encouraged Clark. “They’d like nothin’ better. One of the last things Willie said was fer us to send ya on out.”

  Zeke swallowed with difficulty. “Think I’ll head on into town tomorrow an’ book me a ticket,” he said, his head nodding slowly. “I’ve waited too long already.”

  It was hard for Marty to wait for Sunday. First of all, it would mean seeing all her friends in the Sunday morning worship service. Marty thought of Ma and Ben, and Wanda and Cameron. Though Ellie had filled her in on news of the community, it wasn’t like seeing her neighbors in person.

  After the service, the family would be together for Sunday dinner. They had not seen Nandry and Josh and their family since the night they had arrived home, and Marty was most anxious for another visit and a chance to get reacquainted with her grandchildren.

  She was eager to meet Arnie’s Anne, as well. What would she really be like? Marty trusted Arnie’s judgment, but was he seeing the girl through star-filled eyes? Ellie and Luke, too, had spoken well of Anne. Marty dared to hope that Anne was all her family had claimed her to be and that God, in His love and goodness, had brought them together. Marty could hardly wait to give her blessing to the two of them.

  Sunday was another bright, warm day. Ellie had worked long and hard to prepare the family dinner. Marty tried to help, but she found she still tired far too easily. Surely she wasn’t that tired from her trip from the West! Maybe it was just that she needed to adjust to the climate again, though the weather hadn’t seemed to affect Clark one little bit. He was busy every day and managed, with no apparent difficulty even with a crutch, to keep up with his energetic sons.

  Marty often felt Clark’s eyes upon her, but he seldom
made comment except to encourage her now and then to sit for a spell or even to take an occasional nap. Marty fussed inwardly, though she dared not protest too vigorously. In fact, she forced herself to admit that she really had no energy even for argument. She was anxious to be back caring for her family again. But now it was Ellie who had to bear most of the load, though she never mentioned the fact and often asked Marty, “Now, what shall we have?” or “What shall we do?” or even “What would ya like?” so Marty might feel she was in charge.

  And now, because of Ellie’s capable hands in the kitchen, they were ready for Sunday and the family dinner that would follow the service. Marty wondered, a little guiltily, if she was more excited about being back in her own church and seeing her friends again than about the worship service itself. She decided that the Lord understood her feelings and didn’t mind that today most of her attention was on her friends. As Marty and Clark entered the churchyard, their friends welcomed them back to the little congregation with happy smiles and warm embraces.

  Wanda ran to meet Marty and clung to her; tears dampened the eyes of both women.

  “Oh, I’ve missed you so much … so much,” she whispered to Marty over and over. “Can you come for a nice, long visit soon, so’s you can tell me all about Missie and her family?”

  Marty promised she would.

  Ma Graham, too, held Marty for a long time. A sob caught in her throat as she spoke of their deep sorrow when they had learned of Clark’s accident. She told how, on three occasions during the ordeal, the church members had met for special prayer on his behalf. Marty thanked her sincerely and assured her that God truly had honored their prayers. Ma looked at Clark, busily shaking hands with the neighborhood men, and nodded her head slowly. “Yeah,” she affirmed, “I can see thet He did. I don’t see one ounce a’ bitterness in the face of thet man.”

  The church bell called them to worship, and Marty and Clark took their familiar places with their family. It was strange not to see Pastor Joe leading the service, but the new young man whom the church had appointed did a fine job. Marty looked across at Josh and his family and realized that Nandry was not with them. She felt a moment of concern. Perhaps Nandry was busy elsewhere, she told herself, but after the service when she inquired, Josh informed her that Nandry just wasn’t feeling herself and had decided to stay home. Marty felt a bit anxious, but Josh assured her that Nandry was all right, just not feeling her best. Marty promised herself that she would check on Nandry in a couple of days just to be sure. In the meantime, the family would miss them at the dinner table. Marty had counted so on all of her nearby family being there.