by Janette Oke
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"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
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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
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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
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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."
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"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 s
aid, 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!"
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Clark chuckled in spite of himself. "Did ya--a mother many times over-fergit thet little one is gonna ask to be born eventually?"
Marty responded with a chuckle. "Guess I got kinda used to it ... just being' there."
Clark rolled out of bed and lit the lamp. Then he hopped to the window and pulled down the blind. The light being on might concern Kate and Clare if they were to spot it, he reasoned, and this could well be just a false alarm.
Clark crossed back to the bed.
"Now, tell me," he said, "how're ya feelin'?"
"I don't know. I just can't sleep right, an' somethin' seems different ... I don't know..."
"Think back," insisted Clark. "Can't ya remember what it was like with the other ones?"
"Clark," said Marty sounding a bit annoyed, "any mother will tell ya thet they can all seem different. Just 'cause one bears one baby don't mean thet ya can read all the signs."
"But there must be somethin'--" But Clark's words were cut short by a gasp from Marty.
"What is it?" he asked, his hand reaching out to her.
Marty took the offered hand and squeezed it tightly, but she was unable to answer his question.
Clark was sure he knew the answer. "I'll go git Ellie," he said and hurried to dress.
Ellie was soon there, sleepy eyed and anxious in her warm blue robe.
"Mama," she asked with concern, "Mama, are ya all right?" Marty settled back against her pillow, preparing herself for the next contraction, and assured her that she was.
Clark leaned over Marty. He was buttoning on a warm wool shirt, the one he always liked to wear when he was going out into the cold. Marty looked puzzled for a moment.
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"Where ya goin'?" she asked through some kind of haze that seemed to hang about her.
"Fer the doc," he answered. "An' the sooner the better, I'm thinkin'."
Marty still didn't appear to understand.
"The baby's on the way." explained Ellie patiently as Clark left hurriedly, his crutch thumping on the wooden stairs. "Pa will be back with the doc 'fore we know it. Now, Mama, you've got to think ... think ..." Ellie commanded. "Is there anything I should do? I know nothin 'bout this."
But it looked as though Marty was still thinking about something else.
"The doc," she said slowly and then seemed to fully understand. "Oh, Ellie," she said, "tell Pa not to bother. I don't think there'll be any time fer the doc."
Ellie was terrified. "There's gotta be! Ya just started yer labor an' the doc ain't thet far away. You hang on, now."
Another contraction seized Marty and she groped for Ellie's hand. Ellie prayed, wondering if Marty was ever going to relax again.
She did, falling exhausted back against her pillows.
"Listen, Mama," Ellie pleaded. "Can ya talk to me?" Marty nodded her head.
"Can ya think straight?"
"I ... I think so," panted Marty.
"You've been at birthin's. Now, the doc will be here soon ... I'm countin' on thet. But, just in case ... just in case ... ya gotta tell me what to do."
Marty nodded.
"Okay," she said, her face showing her deep concentration. "Here's what ya do."
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Clark had never pushed his horse like he pushed Stomper that night. The moon aided him on occasion, but often he had to travel on his own instinct and that of his horse. The moon seemed to be playing games. It would bob out from a cloud just long enough for Clark to be relieved because of its light, and then it would slip behind a cloud again, leaving Clark totally on his own, traveling a rutted and snow-covered wintry road. Clark, pushing his steed as fast as he dared, learned to pace himself, riding hard by the moonlight and slowing down when he had to feel his way.
It seemed forever before he was pulling up to the doc's hitching rail. Clark prayed that he would be home and not out on some other call. Why was it that youngsters always insisted on arriving in the middle of the night?
Doc was home and quickly answered Clark's persistent knock on the door. He was not long in pulling on his clothes and grabbing his black bag.
"One thing we can be thankful for," he said, throwing the saddle on his mount, "yer wife has never had a speck of trouble with any of her deliveries."
Clark did take some assurance from the doctor's statement, but still he was feverishly anxious to get back home to Marty.
The moon again was uncooperative. Clark's horse was headed home while the doc's horse was leaving a warm stall, so Clark found himself often out in front of the doctor.
That was fine, Clark told himself. His horse knew the road better and it was good that it should lead the way.
Before they had reached the Davis farmyard, the moon had decided to disappear altogether. They were used to it by now and urged their horses on at a fast pace in spite of the darkness.
When they arrived, Doc dismounted and threw Clark the reins to his horse. Without a word, they parted company--Clark going toward the barn, riding his horse and leading the doctor's, and Doc hastening toward the house.
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There was a light in the kitchen. Through the window, Doc could see Ellie moving about.
"Good," he said to himself, "she has a fire going and the kettle on."
He entered the house without knocking and threw off his heavy mittens and coat, tossing them on a nearby chair. He was halfway across the kitchen floor before he remembered his hat. He turned to throw it on the top of the pile of outdoor clothing.
"How's yer ma?" asked the doctor before starting upstairs.
"She seems to be fine," answered Ellie. "She's asked me fer some tea."
The doctor slowed midstep. If Marty was asking for tea, there was no need for him to be in such a hurry.
He stepped to the fire to warm his chilled hands.
Ellie went on with her task of pouring hot water into the teapot and setting out a cup.
It wasn't long until Clark flung open the door and burst in upon them. His eyes quickly swept across the room. Ellie and the doc were both standing in the kitchen as though nothing of importance was going on in the rest of the house. Clark was perplexed ... and a little annoyed.
"How is she?" he asked. Why are they both down here? he wondered.
Doc turned to him. "She's fine. She just asked Ellie to fix her some tea."
"Tea?" echoed Clark. "At a time like this?"
He started for the stairway, the doc close behind him, and Ellie bringing up the rear with the tea tray in her hands. They entered the room together. Clark was very relieved to see that Marty was no longer tossing. She seemed quite relaxed as she lay against the pillow. A false alarm! Clark thought. The false labor passed already.
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Marty looked up at the three of them. "Yer a little late," she said lightly.
"Late?" Clark responded. "Well, it weren't easy travelin'. The road was rutted, and the moon wouldn't--"
Marty interrupted him. "We won," she said complacently.
"What ya meanin'?" Clark demanded.
"Me an' Ellie. Didn't she tell ya?" and Marty pushed back the covers to reveal a little wrapped bundle on the bed beside her. "
It's a girl."
Two pairs of eyes turned to Ellie. Ellie set the tea tray carefully on the bedside table. Her eyes were wide, and she shook her head dumbly. "I ... I guess I fergot," she stammered, and then she flung herself into Clark's arms and began to weep, trembling until he had to hold her close to keep her from shaking. "Oh, Pa," she sobbed, "I was so scared ... so scared."
The doctor took over then. Clark was patting Ellie's back and murmuring encouragement to her. After she had cried for a moment, she got herself under control again. Clark talked her into sitting on a chair and having a cup of tea along with her mother. The doctor examined both baby and mother, telling Ellie over and over what a fine job she had done. At last Clark was able to hold his new daughter. She was a little beauty, in his estimation. He smiled as he rocked her in his arms and paid her a multitude of compliments.
"Okay, you two," Clark said, turning to Marty and Ellie. "Iffen yer so smart, I s'pose ya got her named already, too?"
"No," said Marty, "We waited on you fer thet."
"Any of the names thet you've been talkin' of suits me."
"Well, it's sure not gonna be one thet you picked," countered Marty. "Henry or Isaac or Jeremiah."
Clark laughed. "Well, I won't insist."
"I was thinkin'," said Marty thoughtfully, "thet Ellie might wish to name her."
"Me?" said Ellie, both surprise and delight in her voice.
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"Kinda thought since ya did so much to git her safely into this world thet ya had more right than anyone."
"I think thet's a great idea," agreed Clark.
"Well, then," said Ellie, "I like Belinda."
"Belinda," Clark and Marty both said at once.
"Belinda May," continued Ellie.