by Janette Oke
Marty pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and wiped her eyes and nose. She held Belinda at arms’ length and studied her face carefully. “You’ve changed,” she said at last, nodding. “But I don’t see nothin’ but maturity in your face. You’ve grown up, Belinda,” and she hugged her close again.
For Belinda’s part, her mother looked very much the same as she remembered her. Thank you, Lord, she whispered. Thank you for taking good care of Mama.
The rest of the family demanded equal time, and the two women were forced to draw apart while the children all tried to talk at once.
“Were you surprised, Grandma? Were you surprised?”
“Well—my lands! I guess I was.”
“It was a good trick, wasn’t it, Grandma? We really fooled you, didn’t we?”
“You certainly did. You certainly did. My, my,” and Marty cast a loving glance toward Belinda, “it was a good surprise.” And she led the way into the big farm kitchen.
“Grandpa will be surprised, too, won’t he? Won’t he?”
“He will. He sure will.”
And so the talk went on, bubbling and humming around her until Belinda felt her head was fairly spinning.
“I’m gonna run and tell Uncle Clare and Aunt Kate,” shouted Thomas and headed for the door, then slid to a stop and looked toward Belinda. “Can I?”
“Go ahead,” laughed Belinda. “They might as well hear it from you, and I am anxious to see them all.”
The house was in even more confusion when Kate and the boys arrived. Only two of the nephews were home. Dan was off with his father on a farm errand. Belinda was startled to note that David was taller than she was, and Dack was very quickly catching up. They gave her boyish hugs and Kate held her fiercely. Belinda wondered if Kate was actually thinking of her own Amy Jo as she hugged so tightly.
“What do you hear from Amy Jo?” Belinda asked when she could draw a breath.
“She’s fine, she says. Expectin’ her second child any day now.” Kate wiped her eyes, drew a deep breath, and managed a smile. “Her first little one will soon be three. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
Belinda nodded, imagining lively Amy Jo as a mother.
“Well, that’s the way life is,” shrugged Kate. “Ya raise ’em to leave. That’s what life is about. Dan, now, he’s got a girl. A nice girl, too, so I ’spect it won’t be long till he’ll be off on his own, as well.”
“Is Dan . . . is Dan still working with . . . with Rand?” Belinda couldn’t believe the difficulty she was having with the simple question.
“Oh no,” explained Kate quickly. “Rand left. He went back to the town—wherever it was—where he lived before. Dan does odd little building jobs for the neighbors, but mostly he farms with his pa.”
Belinda was relieved. Her trip home would not be marred by another argument with Rand, though she could have enjoyed a visit with him.
“Rand married a girl from down there,” Kate went on. “She didn’t want to leave her family, so they settled in the area.”
Jackson . . . and now Rand, Belinda mused, her eyes no doubt reflecting her surprise.
But no one noticed, and Dack interrupted the conversation with a question. “Are you going to be a nurse again?” he asked Belinda.
“I’m a nurse now,” Belinda answered. All eyes turned to Belinda as she spoke. “In fact, I did a good deal of nursing the early part of the summer. I wrote Mama—Grandma—about it. Aunt Virgie—Mrs. Stafford-Smyth—was very sick. I was afraid we might even lose her.”
“You call her Aunt Virgie?” asked Marty.
“Yes, she asked me to,” Belinda stated simply, and Marty nodded.
“Is she better now?” asked Marty.
“Much better, though it took her quite a while to get over it. But she’s fine now. Just fine. In fact, she’s feeling so well she’s off to New York for six weeks.”
Marty looked at Belinda, her eyes shadowed with questions. She did not speak out loud, but Belinda could feel the silent conversation pass between them. And while she’s in New York, you have come home? Marty’s eyes asked. The question was so real Belinda nodded solemnly in answer.
And you will go back to Boston? Marty’s questioning eyes probed, and Belinda answered that with a slight nod, also.
Marty turned her head then, and Belinda expected it was to hide her tears of disappointment.
Thomas now drew their attention. “When’s Grandpa coming home, Grandma?”
Marty’s eyes moved to the clock on the kitchen shelf. “Soon,” she replied evenly. “He should be here soon.”
And then the farm dog barked an excited welcome, and they all knew Clark was on his way.
Six
Seeing Pa
Belinda was so emotionally drained she knew she could not bear another “game.” Before anyone could urge her to duck in the pantry or slip into the living room, she rose from her chair and rushed out the door.
The big team hadn’t even pulled to a stop in front of the barn before she could see her father’s attention fastened on someone flying toward him, arms outstretched.
“Pa,” she called in a half sob. “Pa.”
Clark looked in wonder, no doubt unable to comprehend what his eyes—and ears—were telling him. And then he flung the reins from his hands, flipped himself over the wheel, and met his girl—his Belinda—with open arms.
“It’s you. It’s really you,” he murmured huskily into her hair as he lifted her from the ground and gently swung her back and forth. Belinda briefly wondered if her ribs might be crushed in the bear hug.
“Oh, Pa,” she laughed as she kissed his cheek. “Pa . . . it’s so good to see you.”
He set her back on her feet and looked deeply into her eyes. “How are ya?” he asked sincerely.
“Fine . . . just fine,” Belinda assured him.
He hugged her to himself again, tears unheeded on his cheeks, and she leaned back and wiped them away with a gentle hand.
Then she reached out to set his hat, dislodged in his quick descent from the wagon, back on straight. “Oh, Pa” was all she could say.
“Ya look great. Jest great,” he told her.
Belinda laughed. “Not really,” she said ruefully. “I can feel my hair slipping over my ears, my dress is wrinkled, my face feels flushed, I’ve got train soot to scrub away. Why, I must look a sight.”
Clark laughed heartily. “Ya look good to me,” he insisted. “When did ya git here?”
“I came in on the train this afternoon. Luke brought me out.”
“Luke knew?” asked Clark, and Belinda nodded.
“The rascal! Never said a word—unless he told yer ma.”
“No—he didn’t tell anyone. I asked him not to. But . . . but I later wished . . . wished I hadn’t been so secretive. It wasn’t fair . . . not really.”
“Well, yer here now—thet’s what matters,” Clark responded and gave her another hug and a kiss on the forehead.
David arrived then. “I’ll take care of the team, Grandpa,” he offered.
“Thanks, boy,” Clark responded, and he motioned toward the house. Belinda allowed herself to be led, her pa’s arm still around her waist.
“How’s your patient? Mrs. . . . let’s see . . . Mrs. Stafford-Smyth. She doin’ okay?”
“She’s fine . . . now,” responded Belinda. “She got over her bout with influenza just fine. She’s off to New York for six weeks. Staying with a friend.”
And when Clark’s arm tightened about her waist, Belinda realized her father would know that “six weeks” meant she was going back.
“How have you been keeping?” Belinda asked solicitously.
“Fine,” responded Clark. “Don’t I look fine?” he teased.
“You look just great,” Belinda responded, laughing. “I don’t think you’ve aged a bit. Oh, a few more gray hairs,” she said with a chuckle, “but other than that . . .”
“Thet gray hair,” said Clark, removing his hat and runnin
g fingers through his still-heavy head of hair, “thet comes from havin’ young’uns scattered all over the country from east to west.”
Belinda laughed.
“What’d yer ma say when she seen ya?” Clark asked next. “Bet she was fit to be tied.”
Belinda smiled, then sobered. “I sure hope it wasn’t too foolish of me to come sneaking in,” she replied. “But she seems to have handled it very well.”
“Good,” said Clark as he held the door for her.
They were met by a barrage of shouts, all the children again talking at once. Luke had held them in check so Belinda could have a few moments alone with her father, but now they all wanted to get in on the excitement.
“Surprise, Grandpa! Surprise! Weren’t you surprised? Wasn’t it a good trick? We already knew. We already knew! Weren’t you surprised?”
Clark tried to answer but was drowned out. He held up his hand—his family signal for some order. When the clamoring had turned to a soft hum, he answered their eager questions.
“It was a grand surprise,” he informed them. “I never had me the faintest idea thet Belinda was comin’ home. It sure was a great surprise. Why, ya couldn’t have brought me a better one—an’ thet’s a fact.”
They were about to return to their excited babbling, but Clark again held up a hand. “Now, I need me a cup o’ coffee . . . to sorta get over my shock like, iffen Grandma has one handy.”
Marty smiled, nodded, and moved to the stove.
“She might even have some cookies and milk fer hungry little people,” Clark went on, “seein’ as how it’s too early fer supper yet. I s’pose she’d let ya have ’em on the back veranda.”
Kate went to help get the cookies and milk ready for the children, and Marty hurried to cut some date loaf. “I wish I had some of yer favorite lemon cake on hand, Belinda,” she said over her shoulder. “Iffen I’d only knowed . . .”
But Belinda had moved up beside her and was saying there’d be plenty of time to enjoy her mother’s lemon cake. Belinda turned to the cupboard. The cups were still in the same place. It was nice to come home and find so many things—and people—unchanged. Belinda poured the steaming coffee into the cups and then went to the pantry for the cream and sugar. They, too, were in their usual spot. Belinda smiled. She could just slip right in at home again and carry on as though she’d never been away. A nice thought.
The commotion subsided considerably with the children out of the kitchen. It seemed like such a long, long time since Belinda had sat at the familiar table, with familiar folks, talking over simple and familiar topics.
She was brought up-to-date on each family member, told news of neighbors, updated on the affairs of the church, and reminded of things from the past. Belinda wished they could just chatter on and on, but Marty broke the spell.
“My lands!” she gasped, staring at the clock. “Look at the time. Why, we’ll never be havin’ our supper iffen I don’t get me busy.”
Kate jumped up and moved toward the kitchen door. “Clare’ll soon be home, too,” she reprimanded herself.
“Why don’t ya jest join us here?” Marty invited. “I have a roast in the oven—thet’s the one thing I did git done on time. We’ll make it stretch.”
“I’ve got a couple pies,” Kate responded. “I can bring ’em over.”
Marty nodded. “I baked jest one today,” she answered. “Yer two sure would help.”
“I’ll fix a salad, too,” said Kate on her way out.
Marty nodded again, then called to Kate, “Do you s’pose you could send David over to Arnie’s? They should be told. Tell Anne to bring what she has an’ come to supper iffen she wishes—or else come over as soon as they can after supper for coffee.”
Belinda smiled, soon to be reunited with her family. At least all who lived nearby. Missy and Willie, Ellie and Lane and all their offspring were still far away in the West. Nandry and Clae and their children weren’t close enough to join them, either. But the ones Belinda had grown up with, the family near home—she would soon see them all. It’s so good to be home again! she breathed.
Late that night when the last team left for home, Kate reluctantly lifted her shawl from the coatrack. “I guess we’d better get on home, too,” she sighed. “The boys still have school in the mornin’.”
“Aw. Do we hafta?” protested Dack.
“I’ll be here when you come home again tomorrow,” Belinda reminded him.
“This is David’s last year,” Kate informed Belinda. “He’s our scholar. Likes school much better’n the others ever have. Never have to coax David to get him up in the mornin’s,” she finished proudly.
“What’s he planning to do?” asked Belinda.
“Hasn’t decided, but he’d like to go on fer further schoolin’.”
“Good for him,” Belinda nodded, pleased about David and happy for Kate.
The last good-byes were said, and Belinda settled back at the table with Clark and Marty, still lingering over coffee cups.
“I s’pose yer awful tired?” commented Marty, touching Belinda’s cheek softly.
“I am. It’s the excitement, I guess. And I couldn’t sleep well on the train at all. It rumbles and groans all night long. But, really, it was the thought of coming home that kept me from relaxing.”
Marty took Belinda’s hand, squeezing it slightly as her eyes filled with tears. “Iffen I had knowed ya were comin’,” she admitted, “I wouldn’t have been doin’ any sleepin’, either.”
Clark chuckled. “An’ thet’s the truth,” he agreed with a sage nod.
Belinda decided that maybe her plan of coming home unannounced had turned out to be right, after all.
“Arnie looks good,” Belinda commented. “Looks even better than he did when I left.”
Marty nodded. “Finally got his problems worked out an’ his bitterness taken care of,” she acknowledged. “Bitterness can age one like nothin’ else can.”
“It’s a fact,” nodded Clark. “’Most made an old man of ’im fer a time.”
“His Abe’s arm looks good,” continued Belinda. “Not nearly as twisted as it was. Why, folks wouldn’t even notice it much anymore. One can almost forget he ever had that encounter with the bull.”
“Three surgeries it took.” Marty shook her head, the difficult memory on her face. “Three surgeries to straighten it out again. But worth it—every one of ’em. Arnie can see thet now . . . but my . . . it was a struggle fer ’im to let the boy go under the surgeon’s knife.”
“I’m so glad he finally consented,” Belinda commented.
“Ya wantin’ more coffee?” Marty asked suddenly.
“No. No thanks. I’ve had plenty.” Belinda laughed lightly. “I guess Aunt Virgie and I have taken more to drinking tea. I’m not so used to much coffee anymore.”
“Well, I sure can fix a pot of tea,” Marty replied, jumping up from her chair.
“Mama,” Belinda said quickly, reaching out a restraining hand to her mother, “I don’t need tea, either. Why, I’ve been eating and drinking ever since I set foot in the door. I won’t be able to even move in six weeks if . . .” Belinda stopped.
The shadow darkened Marty’s eyes again. “Six weeks, is it?” she asked slowly.
Belinda nodded, toying with her cup.
“I thought as much,” said Marty. She pushed her cup back listlessly.
“It’s . . . it’s that I can’t . . . can’t feel comfortable just leaving Aunt Virgie,” Belinda began, sensing that some kind of explanation was needed. “She . . . she is so alone. She really has no one . . . no family who cares about her. Her grandsons are in France, busy with their own lives, and she gets so lonely. I can see it in her face. I . . . I . . .” Belinda faltered to a stop.
“’Course,” said Clark, reaching for Belinda’s hand.
“Is there . . . is there . . . anyone special in the city?” Marty asked.
Belinda smiled but shook her head.
“Ya know,” Marty rema
rked slowly, “it really would be easier iffen there was. I mean . . . fer me. Ya wouldn’t seem so . . . so alone yerself then.”
Belinda was surprised at her mother’s comment but understood. “I’m not an old maid yet, Mama,” she reassured Marty with a smile.
“We-ll,” responded Marty, “yer not gittin’ any younger, either. All the other girls was . . .” but Marty dropped the sentence. Belinda well knew her sisters had married when they were much younger than she was now.
“No one ever said thet everybody has to marry,” Marty quickly amended. “Thet’s somethin’ each person has to decide fer herself.”
Belinda nodded.
“It’s not so much I want ya married. It’s jest I don’t want ya all alone an’ lonely . . . ya understand?”
Belinda nodded again.
Marty reached over and patted the hand Clark was still holding. “Are ya lonely?”
Marty’s question surprised Belinda. For a moment she could not answer. A lump in her throat threatened to choke her. She blinked back tears and nodded slowly.
“Sometimes,” she admitted, dropping her head. “Sometimes I get dreadfully lonesome. I’d come home—so fast—if I could see my way clear to do it.”
Belinda lifted her face to look from her mother to her father. Their eyes were wet, as well.
Marty patted the hand again.
“Well, ya know what ya gotta do . . . an’ ya know thet ya can come home again . . . anytime . . . anytime ya be wantin’ to.”
Belinda fumbled for her handkerchief. “I know,” she nodded. “And that keeps me going during the really lonely times. Thanks. Thanks . . . both of you.”
For a moment their eyes held, and then Marty pushed back from the table. “An’ now you’d best be off ta bed afore ya fall off yer chair,” she urged. “Yer pa and me have kept ya up long enough. We needn’t say everything tonight. We have six weeks to catch us up.”
“You have anything thet needs carryin’ up?” asked Clark, rising from the table.
“Luke took my suitcase up,” answered Belinda.
“Ya go on, then,” Marty continued. “Yer room should be ready fer ya. I dusted and freshened it up just last week. I’ll jest gather these few cups in the dishpan. We’ll be right up ourselves—yer pa and me.”