by Janette Oke
One duty led to another and soon Berta’s evenings, Sundays, and Saturday afternoons were more than full. She reserved Saturday morning to hastily do the tasks that her home demanded and crowded other small chores into the extra minutes she could find here and there. Soon she was so busy she hardly had time to work everything in—but she liked it that way. At least she wasn’t bored. And she wasn’t getting lean and pale faced and introverted like Miss Phillips. No one could accuse her of becoming the typical old-maid librarian, stern faced and self-absorbed. Could they?
She wasn’t quite sure. She still was totally wrapped up in her own little sphere. Her interests had just shifted a bit. Instead of spending all her time stacking books, she was now aligning children and ordering their religious world with a practiced and controlling hand.
It’s a good life, she told herself. Rewarding and satisfactory. Most of the time she convinced herself that it was true.
————
Dear Berta,
How can I ever thank you for sending Mama to me? I knew that I missed her dreadfully, but I didn’t know just how much until I saw her get off that train.
I’m afraid the trip tired her. She looks quite drawn and pale. Parker says he will find her a good tonic. By the time she returns to you we will have her feeling great!!!
Berta stopped reading. So it wasn’t her imagination. Her mama was worn out from the care of their grandmother. Berta was thankful she had taken the initiative. Glad that Uncle John and Aunt Cee had agreed to release her mother from her care giving.
I do hope that Parker finds a good tonic, she mused as she let her eyes fall back to Glenna’s letter.
It was the usual news—of new friends, church activities, and Parker’s busyness. Berta scanned the pages quickly. She had to prepare for an evening of Bible lessons with the seven-and eight-year-olds.
————
“I have the most exciting news,” wrote Glenna several weeks later. “You are going to be an auntie! Parker and I are so excited. And Mama is thrilled that she will be a grandmother.…”
Berta let her eyes drift from the page. A baby. For Glenna. It hardly seemed possible—and yet her little sister had now been married for over four years. Even though Berta had felt Glenna had been much too young to marry, time had been slipping by. Berta could not now claim that Glenna was too young to be a mother. Many girls Glenna’s age had more than one child.
“It doesn’t seem possible,” Berta mused aloud.
With the reminder of Glenna’s age, Berta could not help but think of her own. She would soon be twenty-five. A veritable old maid.
That didn’t seem possible either.
Berta did not like the thought. She tried to shift her mind from it by going back to Glenna’s letter.
“I have a doctor for a husband now. Just imagine that! Parker is working with an older doctor here in the city. He wishes to put in two years, and then we will be home. I can hardly wait. You will be able to spoil your niece—or nephew.”
Berta wasn’t sure how much spoiling she would do. Suddenly she wasn’t even sure she wanted Glenna to come back to town. The thought surprised and embarrassed her.
There was such a contrast between her life and Glenna’s. Glenna had it all. Looks and … yes, her prettiness had made life easy for her. Now she had a husband and happiness, and soon she was going to add a child to her good fortune. Glenna wouldn’t say good fortune. She thought it smacked too much of chance. Glenna would carefully say “blessings,” attributing everything that happened for good in her life to God.
Well, if God was responsible and He loved everyone, why did He decide to favor some and withhold from others? Berta mused. Why did Glenna get the lion’s share? It wasn’t fair.
Suddenly Berta rose and tossed the letter on the small table beside her chair. Life was so desperately—uneven. It made her angry. The routine life of busyness—of work, of church, of housekeeping—that she thought she had learned to accept, now seemed cold—and lifeless. Without meaning.
Her frustration drove her to pacing. The little house that she had so longed to have as her own no longer seemed cozy, but confining.
She had to get out. Berta grabbed a shawl from the entry hall and went out into the evening to walk. She let her agitation drive her at a brisk pace over the sidewalks—street by street.
She was several blocks from home before her steps began to slow.
Look at you, she scolded herself. Glenna writes you good news, and you can’t even rejoice with her. You should be writing a letter of excited congratulations, and here you are walking off your snit.
Well, it’s unfair, she argued back. Glenna already has all she needs for happiness.
And what does one need for happiness? an inner voice seemed to probe.
The thought nearly brought Berta to a halt. She had never really thought about it before.
Well, I—I—
She had good health. A job that, for the most part, she enjoyed. A little home all her own. Meaningful activity to keep both her mind and body busy. What was it she was lacking?
A spouse? No. No, she wasn’t sure that she even wanted one. She liked her independence. She liked to be free to make her own way. Then, if she didn’t wish to be married, why was she inwardly jealous of Glenna for the fact that she was?
Berta could not even untangle her own thinking. She just knew that she felt empty—alone—and she had now made the sorrowful discovery that busyness was not going to fill the void in her life.
Chapter Twelve
Glenna
Mrs. Berdette had returned to her duties with Granna by the time Glenna’s “darling baby” arrived, a boy whom they named James Edward after his two grandfathers. In spite of Berta’s feelings of resentment toward Glenna, who seemed to have life’s smile with regularity, it had been hard at first for her to wait to see the child. But eventually she nearly forgot she had a nephew. Time and distance almost put the little one out of her mind.
She still fretted about her mother and made trips to her grandmother’s farm to check on the woman. She even purchased a fine mare and a light buggy so the trips might be made more quickly, more often, and in comfort. She enjoyed the mare and the sense of freedom the animal brought with her, but she had no desire to be responsible for her daily grooming and care. So she boarded the animal at a stable on the edge of town.
Her mother did seem a bit rested and restored to her earlier vitality when she had first returned home from her trip to Glenna’s, but she very quickly began to look peaked and strained again. It worried Berta. Yet her mother never complained of being in pain or more tired than she should be.
Berta knew it was a burden for the woman, getting on in years herself, to be caring for the elderly Granna. But she didn’t know what could be done about it.
She continued her activities with the children of the little congregation. She had faced the fact that bustling about was no substitute for inner satisfaction and peace, but doing so did help to fill many lonely, restless hours. For that much she was thankful.
Miss Phillips continued her duties at the library, but Berta secretly wondered how much longer the frail woman would be able to work. Berta was sure she was not eating right and was often tempted to talk to the woman about the fact. But Miss Phillips was so distant. So reserved. It was most difficult to speak to her about anything.
Tw o years slowly moved by, and in spite of Berta’s underlying dissatisfaction, her life continued on in the same daily manner. With deadly certainty, each calendar month was pulled from the wall and discarded in her kitchen wastebasket. Nothing seemed to really change from day to day, month to month. Her life seemed to be one dull and uninteresting sequence of little routine events.
And then came the day she flipped a page in her daily reminder and saw the note she had written to herself: “Meet Glenna’s train. 2:34.”
At least this would be a bit of diversion.
She had already arranged to leave the library early. Unc
le John and Aunt Cee had promised to bring her mother in from the farm. Berta had invited them all to her little house for tea after they collected Glenna, Parker, and little James. She wasn’t quite sure if her intentions were really to welcome Glenna or if she merely wanted to show off her comfortable home to her sister.
Still struggling with conflicting emotions, she wished Glenna would just stay where she was. She seemed quite content there. Why didn’t Parker continue to practice medicine alongside the older doctor with whom he had been working? On the other hand, she felt unexplainable excitement at the thought of seeing Glenna again. Glenna was the one person—besides her parents—who seemed quite willing to accept her as she was. Perhaps even love her. Glenna was, and had always been, her champion. For some strange reason, her sister seemed to look up to her, and even to stand up for her.
Berta could not untangle her feelings about Glenna. Life wasn’t fair. Perhaps God wasn’t even fair—she hadn’t settled that question in her mind. But was any of that really Glenna’s fault?
So it was with a strange mixture of thoughts and emotions that Berta surveyed her tea preparations one last time, put on her best black skirt, her new white shirtwaist, and her smart but simple bonnet, picked up her shawl and her gloves, and set out for the train station.
When the train was only ten minutes late, Berta decided it must be some kind of record—it could never be counted on to make the run on time, and folks usually didn’t start seriously watching for it until an hour or more beyond schedule.
As they stared down the tracks, Berta noticed that her mother’s cheeks were flushed with excitement, her eyes bright. The woman had not yet held her grandson, and Berta knew she could hardly contain her emotions.
The tired locomotive rounded the bend with weary chugs and wafting smoke to make its way into the station. Berta found herself standing with rigid shoulders and straight back. For whatever reason, she felt challenged by Glenna’s return.
Was she still trying to compete with the younger woman?
The thought was a strange one. Compete? For what? They now lived in two different worlds. Glenna’s life very likely would only rarely touch her own. Oh, certainly there was their mother. But she would be their only common interest. Mama and Granna, thought Berta. Even Uncle John and Aunt Cee were seldom around anymore. Their own family had expanded and took most of their time and attention.
So Berta lifted her chin and waited for the train to jerk to a halt.
They were the last passengers to disembark. Glenna and Parker stood in the doorway, both with their arms filled with “things.” Berta found herself straining to locate the baby, but she saw none. Her gaze returned to Glenna. The years had been more than kind to her. With maturity she had blossomed. If she had been pretty as a young girl—she was lovely now. Lovely and poised and filled with a look of such satisfaction. Her face, now flushed with excitement, was a study in beautiful tranquility.
And then Berta saw a red-capped attendant behind them holding a small boy by the hand.
“Where’s the baby?” she heard her mother murmur, and Uncle John responded with a hearty, “Think that wee boy belongs to her?”
Berta heard her mother gasp. “Surely not,” she argued.
But Berta knew it was true. They had all been expecting Glenna to return with a baby in arms. But two years had passed. Little James was no longer an infant.
And then the two little groups were intertwining.
What a noisy knot of people they made, each one exclaiming and welcoming the others with hugs and greetings, little James claiming the most. At last they began to sort themselves out, and Berta was able to again extend her invitation and suggest that they make their way to her home. There was not room for everyone in Uncle John’s buggy.
“I’ll walk,” responded Berta. “By the time you gather the luggage and get it loaded, I’ll have the teakettle on.”
“Oh, could I walk with you?” cried Glenna. “I have been shut up in that slow-moving, cramped train for such a long time. I’d love to stretch my legs. Do you mind, dear?” and she turned to Parker.
And so Berta and Glenna started off through the streets of the town.
“How have you been, Berta? You look marvelous,” exclaimed Glenna.
Berta could have “humphed” at the remark. She knew that she did not look marvelous. Glenna looked marvelous. She let Glenna’s wild statement pass without comment.
“James must keep you busy,” she responded instead.
Glenna gave her a look of teasing exasperation. “Oh, that is the understatement of the century,” she breathed, then laughed. “He is such a delight,” she hurried on, “but an awful lot of energy. Parker is so good with him. Lets him run off a little of that excess liveliness each evening when he comes home.”
“I’m surprised Parker gets evenings at home,” Berta put in. “I thought doctors were always on call.”
“Well, yes—and no,” said Glenna. “They take rotations—take turns.”
“Do you expect that to continue here?”
Glenna shook her head. “I’ve no idea. But I don’t suppose so. Parker will be establishing his own practice. He will need to be on call for all his patients. It’s bound to be different.”
She took a deep breath and looked about as she walked. “Oh, it’s so good to be back home. Have things changed much?”
Berta tried to replay the years since Glenna had left their town. Yes, things had changed—yet much had stayed the same.
“I guess the farm will be the biggest change you’d notice,” she said slowly.
“They changed it?”
“It’s gone.”
“Gone?” Glenna’s eyes grew wide at the thought. “What did they do?” she asked, her voice tremulous.
“They’ve torn it all down. Built houses there. I don’t even go out past the place anymore.”
“I can’t imagine. It was a beautiful little house. Why would anyone wish to tear it down?”
“They call it progress,” said Berta with an exasperated sigh.
They walked in silence for several moments.
“What do you think about Mama?” asked Glenna suddenly.
Berta looked at her younger sister, worry showing in the deep blue eyes.
“I—I think that … she’s failing,” replied Berta, wanting to be completely honest, yet hating the truth.
Glenna nodded solemnly.
“I had hoped the tonic … ” She let the words trail off.
“It’s too hard for her to care for Granna,” put in Berta, “but I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Is it just Granna’s care, or is Mama—?”
“I don’t know,” said Berta, shaking her head. “But it certainly doesn’t help for her to have to miss night after night of sleep.”
“Maybe Parker can help Granna,” mused Glenna aloud.
Perhaps that was the answer.
As the two sisters approached the little house, Berta felt she had everything well under control. She had spent the evening before preparing everything for her guests except for the very last-minute tasks. But still she hurried into the house, removed her gloves, hat, and shawl, and proceeded on to the kitchen while Glenna moved about exclaiming over this and fingering that. Berta had known how Glenna would respond, and her face flushed with pleasure at Glenna’s comments.
But she had to get busy if things were to be ready when the buggy-load of visitors appeared at her door.
Glenna soon came to help her, still expressing her delight with Berta’s lovely little home.
They were just setting out the sandwiches and cakes when Berta heard the others arrive. From then on the house was filled with a flurry of activity. Berta quickly settled everyone according to her plan—except for the young James. He seemed to be everywhere at once. Berta had never worked with such a distraction underfoot before. She feared she would be running into the small boy with a tray of hot tea. And she kept an alert eye on his rovings as he surveyed her
prized possessions. Has he been taught to keep hands off? she wondered. Would Glenna or Parker keep their eye on the boy?
By the time Berta had finished serving, she was exhausted by nervous tension. She could hardly wait for everyone to go home so she could clean up and get things back to her comfortable, tidy, normal ways.
“I hope they never bring that child here again,” she muttered when the door finally closed and she was alone.
But as she surveyed her little domain, except for used teacups and plates of leftover sandwiches and cakes, the room’s furnishings had not been damaged.
“Well—I guess I was lucky this time,” she breathed with a sigh of relief. Had she been honest, she would have acknowledged that the ambitious little boy had been held well in check.
———
Parker and Glenna settled in a newer community in the town of Allsburg, and Parker set up his practice. From the start it seemed to flourish. Apart from the fact that he was now so busy that they rarely had family time together, Glenna seemed extremely happy.
Berta was prepared to settle back into her familiar routine—but Glenna seemed equally determined to shake her world up a bit. Berta occasionally felt put out by her intrusions, at the same time hesitantly admitting to herself that they did add some spark to life.
Glenna’s new mothering role appeared to be extended to include her sister, and Berta wondered if Glenna thought she needed her help to be happy. She resisted, assuring Glenna in her own way that she was totally in control of her own life and liked it quite as it was. Of course, it wasn’t entirely true, but Berta secretly wondered if there was such a thing as total happiness.
But Glenna seemed happy.
She had shared the secret that she was expecting her second child—and even though the energetic Jamie seemed to keep her continually on the run, she said she was excited about the idea of pairing him up with another. Berta could not fully appreciate her attitude, but she accepted it. Glenna herself seemed to have boundless energy. Berta was sure that she would need every ounce of it once she had two youngsters running around.