by Janette Oke
Rand was there promptly at six-thirty. Belinda heard Thomas answer the door and hurried from her bedroom before the young boys might have a chance to question him or make any inappropriate comments.
Only a few minutes’ walk brought them to the town hotel, and as Rand had already spoken to the dining room host, they were quickly seated. Belinda then had the difficult task of deciding what she would like for supper. Her head was not working well. Over and over the words of her nephews chased around her brain.
“Might I suggest the fresh lake trout?” Rand asked, and Belinda quickly nodded. Fish would be a nice change and it would also save her the task of deciding.
After their order was given, they had too much time to just sit and feel uncomfortable, to Belinda’s way of thinking. Rand seemed perfectly at ease, and Belinda couldn’t help but wonder where he had found his confidence.
She could think of absolutely nothing to say and felt very foolish just sitting there studying the hands that fluttered nervously in her lap.
“Did ya have a busy day?” Rand questioned, and Belinda drew a deep breath, thankful for something to talk about.
She explained briefly some of the events of her day and then asked him about his activities. Rand smiled as he described how he and Mrs. Kirby had gone over and over the house plans.
“Things are far from settled,” he informed her. “She still isn’t sure jest what she wants.”
“Best not to rush her then, I guess,” spoke up Belinda. “Buildin’ a new house takes a great deal of thinkin’-on fer a woman. She’ll want to be sure it has all the things she’s been dreamin’ of. If they are left out, she will keep thinkin’ of them after she’s all moved in, and wishin’ that they’d been added. Ya wouldn’t want yer first customer to be eternally dissatisfied.”
“Where’d ya git so smart?” Rand teased with a chuckle. Then he went on, “I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing. In fact, I talked to Mr. Kirby. Said thet it might be wise to give his wife more plannin’ time. Wilson wants a storage shed built, and they need a new barn at the livery. Maybe I’d best start there before I take up on thet house.”
“What did Mr. Kirby say?” asked Belinda.
“He agreed—rather reluctantly. I think he’s jest anxious to git this buildin’ over. I’m sure he’s heard nothin’ but ‘new house’ fer the last several months.”
From then on, conversation was much easier. In fact, Rand was interesting to talk to and soon had Belinda completely at ease. They talked about the small town, the new developments, the hopes for its future now that the railroad came through, and the need for another doctor, and they laughed over some of the memories of their shared school days in the little country school.
In no time, it seemed to Belinda, their plates of food arrived.
As they enjoyed the tasty meal, the conversation continued. All too soon supper was over and there was really no reason to linger.
“Thank ya,” Belinda said sincerely as Rand led her from the dining room. “That was very nice. And now yer ‘thank-you’ is more than paid in full.”
Belinda’s thoughts went back to John’s comment. Her simple “thank-you” did seem inadequate. She felt she owed Rand more than that. But even as the invitation to tea lingered on her lips, she refused to utter it. This was not a courtship. This was one friend expressing gratitude to another. She would not consider it to be any more than that.
They walked home slowly, enjoying their chat and the stroll.
“Where are yer two nieces?” Rand asked. “Wasn’t one going back west?”
“Yes. Melissa. But it turned out that Amy Jo went, too. She was to be gone only a few months, but her visit has been extended on and on. She still isn’t home.”
“You must miss ’em.”
“Oh, I do.”
“Will Amy Jo be back soon?”
“I hope so. It seems such a long time . . . but I fear . . . I fear she might not come back at all.”
“She likes the West?”
“More than the West. She’s found a young man out there,” Belinda said simply.
“Is she thinkin’ of marryin’?” Rand asked in surprise.
“She hasn’t said . . . but I’m thinkin’ she is.”
“Isn’t she younger than you?”
“A little.”
“Do her folks think she’s ready to be married?”
Belinda laughed softly, a complete change from her former mood. “Do one’s folks ever think a girl’s ready to be married?” she joked.
Rand smiled, then surprised her by asking, “Do you . . . you think she’s ready?”
“I don’t know,” responded Belinda slowly. “She was always kind of flighty—carefree—but she sounds more serious now. Maybe she is.”
They walked in silence for a few more moments.
“Are you?” asked Rand quietly.
“Me? What?” pondered Belinda. She had entirely lost the thread of the conversation.
“Ready fer marriage?” he said simply.
“Oh my, no!” exclaimed Belinda, her cheeks flushing and her composure fleeing. “I . . . I haven’t even thought on such a thing. I’m nowhere near ready. I . . . I . . .”
Rand did not press her but, seeing her obvious embarrassment, quickly changed the conversation.
“Luke has him a nice house. It has lots of special features. Thet’s the kind of houses I want to build—’stead of just straight box type. Wonder iffen he’d be so kind as to let me peek in his attic someday to study the rafter structure.”
Belinda was surprised at the sharp turn in subject but managed to say she was sure Luke wouldn’t object. His house had been purchased, along with the practice, from the late Dr. Watkins.
With the talk back on safer ground, Belinda regained her composure and enjoyed the rest of the walk home.
She thanked Rand for the meal and the lovely evening, but she did not extend an invitation to tea.
“May I see ya on the weekend?” Rand asked, but Belinda was quick to turn him down.
“I go to the farm for the weekends,” she said. “It’s the only time I get to see the folks.”
“I understand,” he said kindly. “Then perhaps I will see ya in church on Sunday.”
Belinda nodded.
After he had left, Belinda chided herself for not being more hospitable. He was a fine young man and she could do with friendship. But why, why, she asked herself as she pressed cool hands to warm cheeks, why do I get the feeling that he is thinking differently about it than I am? Was there more to his simple question concerning her preparedness for marriage than he had expressed?
Surely it was all in her head. She determined to put it from her thinking completely.
Rand was in his usual place in church on Sunday with a row of neighborhood young men and did not greet Belinda more than by doffing his hat and wishing her a pleasant good morning.
She saw him chatting with Clark for some length after the service, though, and was careful to keep herself busy with some of her friends.
On the way home Clark began to share the earlier conversation with Marty, and Belinda could not help but overhear.
“Thet young O’Connel fella is back. He’s been learnin’ the buildin’ trade an’ now wants to do his buildin’ hereabouts.”
“Thet’s nice,” said Marty agreeably. “Does he think there’ll be enough work?”
“He’s already lined him up several jobs. Seems ambitious enough.”
“Thet’s nice,” said Marty again.
“He was wonderin’ iffen some of our young fellas might be interested in workin’ fer ’im,” went on Clark.
“Some of ours?” asked Marty, taking a new interest in the conversation.
“Yeah. Clare’s or Arnie’s. Promised I’d ask.”
“They’re jest boys,” offered Marty.
“Old enough to work. I was doin’ a man’s job by the time I was their age.”
Marty nodded.
“Do ya think any of
’em might be interested?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” responded Clark. “But I’ll mention it like I promised. Clare’s Dan might be. Don’t think he has him much interest in farmin’.”
It was true. They had all sensed it.
“What do ya think Clare will say about it all?” asked Marty next.
“S’pose he’ll want Dan to be a doin’ what brings ’im pleasure,” Clark responded and clucked to the team to hurry them up.
Belinda thought the conversation was over. But Clark continued, “Good to see thet young fella back again. Seems like a fine young man. I’d be right glad to see Dan workin’ with the likes of ’im.” And then as an afterthought, “Now why ya s’pose Amy Jo couldn’t have stayed on here an’ taken up with ’im ’stead of goin’ off west an’ meetin’ someone we don’t even know?”
“Who knows the ways of the heart?” asked Marty, and the conversation finally took a different turn, much to Belinda’s relief.
EIGHT
Amy Jo
A wire from Amy Jo simply stated that she would be home for Easter as promised. They should meet the afternoon train on Good Friday. She did not mention her young man, and the family wondered if the little romance had ended. Kate privately told Marty that she prayed it might be so, though she did hope her impetuous daughter had not been hurt by the whole experience.
The wire arrived only two days before the specified Friday, and once again the whole family was in commotion preparing for Amy Jo’s return.
Belinda was glad she was busy with patients so she wouldn’t be anxiously counting down the hours until Friday’s train. To get herself through the long evening wait, she busied herself in Abbie’s kitchen doing some special baking. Thomas and Aaron pulled up chairs and leaned on the counter, watching the dough taking shape in the blue mixing bowl.
“Wha’cha makin’?” Aaron began.
“Cookies. Can’t ya tell?” Thomas told his brother. “See, she’s got sugar an’ eggs an’ butter all stirred together.”
“It might be cake,” defended Aaron. “Mama puts all them things in cake.”
“This time it is cookies,” Belinda explained.
“What kind?” asked Aaron.
“Applesauce cookies,” answered Belinda.
“Ummm,” said Aaron. “My favorite.”
“You say thet ’bout any kind,” rebuked Thomas.
“That’s ’cause I like ’em,” said Aaron with a stubborn set to his chin.
“They’re not yer favorite, then, iffen ya like ’em all,” argued Thomas.
Belinda was in no mood for childish spats. “They are Amy Jo’s favorite. Her true favorite,” she informed the children.
“Are ya bakin’ ’em jest fer her?” asked Aaron dolefully.
“Yes—but no. Not all fer her. We’ll give her some—but you can have some, too.”
Aaron seemed satisfied.
“When’s she comin’?”
Belinda lifted her eyes to the clock. “In about . . . about forty-two hours,” she responded.
“Forty-two? Thet’s a long, long time!”
“Does two days sound better?” asked Belinda.
“Two is better’n forty . . . forty what?”
“Forty-two.”
“Yeah, forty-two. Two’s better’n that.”
“Ya silly,” cut in Thomas. “She comes when she comes. Don’t make no difference what ya call it.” Then he seemed to reconsider his statement for a moment and directed a question to Belinda. “Is forty-two and two days the same long?”
Belinda smiled. “Two whole days make forty-eight hours, but it’s not quite two whole days now. Instead of forty-eight, it’s about forty-two,” she explained to the boy.
“It still seems a long time,” insisted Aaron.
“We only got the message this mornin’,” Belinda reminded them.
“Forty-two is still a long time,” Thomas agreed with his brother.
“Bet the cookies’ll all be gone by then,” Aaron said, eyeing the dough as it was placed on the cookie pans.
“We’ll hide some,” suggested Belinda.
Aaron grinned. He loved secrets. Then he sobered. “But only a few many,” he cautioned.
When the first cookies were taken from the oven, Belinda poured two glasses of milk and sat the boys at the table with three cookies apiece. They chattered contentedly as they ate, and Belinda found their company a distraction for the long evening hours.
“Ya gonna hide some fer ’Connel?” Aaron asked.
“Fer what?” she asked, perplexed by his question.
“Not ‘what,”’ corrected Thomas. “People aren’t ‘whats,’ Papa says.”
He stopped to dip an edge of his cookie into his milk and then sucked the moisture out.
“ ’Connel,” repeated Aaron.
“Oh, you mean Mr. O’Connel.”
“S’what I said,” remarked Aaron, then followed his brother’s lead in dunking a cookie. Not quite as adept at dunking, a soggy piece of his cookie fell into the glass, and he ran to the cupboard for a spoon.
“Are ya?” he asked as he returned to the table.
“No-o-o. He lives at Mrs. Lacey’s boardinghouse. She cooks for him.”
“Bet he doesn’t git cookies like this.”
“Aaron,” Thomas spoke impatiently. “Jesus didn’t say we gotta share with ever’body.”
“That’s not what I meant,” hastened Belinda. “God wants us to share with others. It’s jest that sometimes—” Now she was talking herself into a corner. She would never know how to explain to the two boys. She quickly changed her tack.
“How would ya like to take a couple cookies to yer papa? He is busy in his office, but I think he would like some cookies and milk.”
The boys loved the idea, and Aaron was given a small plate with the cookies and Thomas a glass of milk and they marched off to take the offering to Luke. Fortunately the more careful Thomas had the glass in hand.
By the time Belinda finished her baking, “hid” a few cookies to present to Amy Jo, and cleaned up the kitchen, it was late and she was ready for bed. She mentally scratched this first day from her calendar and hoped the next day would be filled with lots of activities and jobs that needed to be done. I’m awful glad, she told herself as she climbed into bed, that Amy Jo didn’t send that wire any sooner!
The next day turned out to be rather quiet in the doctor’s office, so Belinda asked Abbie if there were any errands she could run. Abbie did need a few things from the store, so Belinda donned a light shawl, her spring hat, and set off with a basket over her arm.
The purchases did not take long, and she whiled away a few more minutes looking in shop windows. The afternoon still stretched on before her, and she did not look forward to trying to find something to fill it.
She finally strolled toward home, studying neighborhood gardens and the spring flowers beginning to make their appearance. She was so preoccupied she went right on by Luke’s house without even realizing it.
“Out for an afternoon walk?” The nearness of the voice startled her and she jumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to catch ya off guard,” the person apologized as she turned to see who it was. “You were jest so deep in thought.”
Belinda looked up to see Rand smiling down at her. “I . . . I guess I was,” she admitted, looking about her to get her bearings.
“I . . . I was off doin’ some errands fer Abbie, and comin’ home I was . . . was admirin’ the spring flowers an’ I ’most forgot what I was about, I guess.” She laughed at herself and turned to start back in the right direction.
“May I walk along with ya?” he asked. “I’m headin’ fer the hardware store.”
“Certainly,” answered Belinda and shifted her basket only to have it gently taken from her hands.
“I heard around town that ya have some good news.”
“Oh yes! I can hardly stand the wait for Amy Jo’s return. I guess thet was why my thoughts were so far off a mo
ment ago.”
He nodded and fell into step beside her.
“What happened to the young man—her beau?” he asked after they had walked a short distance together.
Belinda lifted her eyes to look at him. “We don’t know,” she said honestly. “Amy Jo said nothin’ about him in the wire.
Perhaps . . . perhaps it wasn’t so serious after all.”
“That’s unfortunate,” said Rand. “I hate to hear of love gone sour.”
Belinda wasn’t sure if the comment was teasing or serious. She could think of no response, so she kept her silence.
“What’s Melissa doin’ these days? Teachin’?”
“Yes,” Belinda answered, wondering again if it could be that Rand was interested in Melissa. “She got herself a school the very first term after she got back home. It’s close enough that she can stay at home and ride horseback to classes each day.”
“That’s nice,” responded Rand. And then he added, “I don’t suppose she’ll do thet fer too many years.”
Belinda looked at him questioningly.
“Must be lots of ranchers out there who can see how pretty she is,” he explained. “One of ’em is bound to catch her eye one of these days.”
“She . . . she already has a beau,” Belinda offered, carefully watching Rand’s face.
He brightened. “Has she, now?” he said. “Thet’s nice.” Then he quickly added, “Is Melissa older or younger than you?”
“Older,” said Belinda. “A bit.”
“An’ she’s yer niece,” he noted with a grin. Belinda smiled and nodded.
They had reached Luke’s gate, and this time Belinda had no intention of missing it again. She reached for her basket and said she must be getting in to see if she could be of any help to Abbie.
Rand slowly gave up the basket and tipped his hat, saying he hoped to see her again soon. Then he was gone, and Belinda went around to the back door and into the kitchen.
I never even thought to ask him how his building is goin’, she chided herself. He’ll think me most uncarin’.