“Yes, ma’am, I reckon,” I said. She must have heard the hesitation in my voice.
“You sound a little doubtful, Corrie,” she said, looking at me steadily. I didn’t say anything right off, and she gave me time to think out my answer.
“I’m pleased enough about Pa,” I said finally. “You know that, ma’am. You know I think he’s a fine man, and I’m just proud as I can be. Him inviting all you folks here today was such a wonderful thing for him to do! But, I don’t know, ma’am, it’s just that him getting married again—well, that’s a turn of events that’s kinda hard to take hold of.”
“Ah, yes . . . I know what you mean,” she replied with a kind of half smile that seemed to hold back more than it said. “I must admit it took me by surprise, too.”
“Do you think he ought to marry again, ma’am?” I asked.
“Oh, Corrie!” she answered with a laugh that sounded a little jittery. “That is hardly a question that it seems I have any right to consider. What your father does is his business, after all.”
“You’re like part of our family, Mrs. Parrish,” I said.
“That’s kind of you to say, Corrie.” She put her hand on mine and smiled.
“It’s true, ma’am, and so I think that gives you the right to say what you think.”
“Of course, I have tried to do my best for you children—”
“And you have, ma’am!” I said. “You’ve been just—just like—you’ve been better for all of us than we deserved!”
Before the words were out of my mouth, I was crying, though I didn’t know why. Her hand, still on mine, gave me a squeeze.
“And it just doesn’t seem right somehow,” I went on, but now the words were getting all jumbled in my thoughts, “for Pa to bring somebody here we don’t even know to take care of us. We don’t need anybody else! We’re doing just fine the way it is, with all of us and Pa and—and you, ma’am, and I just don’t see why—”
I couldn’t finish, because I was sobbing pretty hard by now.
For a long time Mrs. Parrish just let me cry, stroking my head with one hand while the other held mine.
When she finally did speak again, her voice was so tender, it reminded me of Ma comforting me when I was little.
“There’s an old saying, Corrie,” she said softly, “that wives have to learn and have been repeating to themselves for years. And until they learn it, life can be downright miserable for them if they’re going to try to understand everything their man does.”
She paused and looked away. I hadn’t seen that far-off gaze in her face for a long time. The few times I had seen it, it always reminded me of someone thinking about something that happened a long time ago. I didn’t know if Mrs. Parrish was thinking about her husband or about something else, but her words seemed to be coming out of something that had happened to show her what an important lesson it was to learn.
“And this is how folks put it, Corrie,” she finally said, turning back toward me. “Sometimes men have just got to do what their hearts are telling them to do. Half the time to the women in their life—whether it’s a wife, a sweetheart, a friend, or, like you, a daughter—it doesn’t seem to make sense, but once a man feels that he’s got to do something, he has to do it or he’ll never be able to live with himself afterward.”
“But what if it’s something he doesn’t need to do?” I insisted. “Like with this Miss Morgan coming? We don’t need any help! Pa’s a good pa and we’re getting old enough to take care of ourselves.”
“I think I understand a little how you feel, Corrie. But once a man’s set on something, whether it makes sense or not, or even whether it’s right or not, he’s got to go ahead with it for his own sake. If he’s wrong, well, that’s something he has to find out for himself, and no amount of female persuasion is usually going to make any difference.
“And, Corrie, who’s to say your father is wrong? I’ve never been a father—I’ve never even been a parent. And though I love you and the others like you were my own, the fact is that I can’t really know what it’s like for your pa inside, feeling the responsibility of caring for a family without a wife, with all the troubles he’s had following him around. It must be a terrible burden for him sometimes. And I do know this, that he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t feel it was the right thing to do for all of you.”
“Well, if he’s gotta find a new wife—” I began, my tears starting up again.
I was arguing with myself, though I didn’t really realize that till I thought about it later. Ever since Pa’d read us Miss Morgan’s letter I’d been all mixed up inside about it, and now all at once everything I’d been thinking was coming out at Mrs. Parrish. “If he’s gotta find a new wife, then what’s wrong with somebody around here we know? Why couldn’t he get someone like the widow Jackson that lives over by Fern lake? She’s nice and comes to church and is always nice to us kids. Or why couldn’t he—why couldn’t he marry somebody—somebody like you!”
I started sobbing again as the words I hadn’t planned burst out.
Mrs. Parrish looked sharply away. Through my own tears I saw her turn her head. My first thought was that I’d hurt her by what I said, and anytime you can get your mind thinking of somebody else, even if just for a second, you forget your own troubles.
“I’m—I’m sorry, Mrs. Parrish,” I said. “I didn’t mean to say something to upset you. I didn’t even know what I was saying!”
She turned back toward me with the tenderest smile I’d ever seen on her face. Her cheeks were a little red and her eyes were blinking a little harder than usual. Right at that moment she looked prettier than I’d ever seen her before.
“Oh, Corrie—Corrie!” she said in barely more than a whisper. “You dear, dear girl!” She drew in a deep sigh. “You haven’t hurt me, Corrie,” she said softly. “That was one of the nicest things you could ever have said! But sometimes a woman’s emotions can’t be trusted. You’ll understand that better when you get a little older. Then you’ll know what it’s like to suddenly find your eyes misting over when you don’t know why. But—what am I saying?—I guess you know about that already!” she added, laughing.
“I reckon I do.”
“I forget you’re already a woman in many ways! I apologize.”
“Now it’s my turn to say I didn’t take offense.”
She smiled. “I suppose both of us will have many new things to get used to, many adjustments to make,” said Mrs. Parrish.
“You too, ma’am?”
“Well, your father’s marrying is bound to change—change . . . the way—well, you and he won’t be coming over to my house for tea before school meetings anymore!” This last part she added hurriedly, as if she only just thought of it.
“We’ll still be friends, won’t we, Mrs. Parrish? You’ll still come and visit and talk to me about—you know, about everything?”
“Of course, Corrie! Nothing will ever change our special friendship. But Miss Morgan—I suppose I’ll have to get used to calling her the new Mrs. Hollister!—she’ll be your friend too, I’m certain of it. And she’ll want you to confide in her also.”
“But I don’t want to confide in her!” I half-shouted back, my anger and frustration coming out again. “I don’t need any one but Pa and you!”
Mrs. Parrish smiled. But she didn’t speak immediately. She seemed to be thinking. Then finally she said, “Have I told you about everything working out for good, Corrie?”
“I don’t remember exactly,” I answered. “I suppose I’ve heard you talk about it before.”
“There’s a verse in Romans, Corrie, that says everything will work out for our good in the end if we love God and are called according to His purpose. And I think perhaps we need to remember that right now with your pa marrying again.”
“But I don’t see how everything can be good?”
“It doesn’t say that everything is good. It says that in everything God is able to work out good, to make good come out of it
.”
“For everybody?”
“No. For those that love God—that is, for Christians who are called according to His purpose—in other words, those whose lives are ordered by God’s ways, not their own. It means that if a Christian is trying to live by obeying God’s ways and doing what God wants, rather than living for himself, God will be able to make all things work out for good in the end. Even if something bad happens, if you are trying to live by God’s principles, not selfishly, then good will come out of it for you in the end.”
“What you’re saying, then, is that if Pa’s going to marry Miss Morgan, good will come out of it.”
“Yes, I guess that’s what I’m saying. I can’t say whether he was right or wrong to write her and ask her to come to California. I only know that for you and me—if we are faithful to live as Christians by God’s principles—it will work out for good in the end. We don’t need to worry about your Pa, except to pray for him. All we need remember is to obey God, and then we can trust good to be the ultimate result.”
Both of us were quiet for a spell.
“I guess you’re right,” I finally sighed. “But it’s hard to trust God when things look like they’re going in a way you don’t want them to go.”
“Remember the fog in front of San Francisco, Corrie? Many times we can’t see what God sees. He may be doing things we have no idea of. He can see a lot further ahead than we can.”
I smiled up at her. “I know you’re right. But it’s hard to grab hold of the kinds of things you say sometimes.”
“It takes time to get some of these lessons deep enough into your heart that you can start living them. And hurts and pains are a required part of the learning too. Nothing much worth learning comes without pain. Maybe now God’s giving you a chance to feel some anxious thoughts so you can grow a little closer to Him by trusting Him to work out what’s best.”
“I hope that’s it,” I said.
“But don’t you think we’ve been away long enough? They’re going to think we skipped out to leave all the cleaning up for them!”
Mrs. Parrish took a step or two away from the rock, then reached her arms high above her head and took in a deep breath of the cold Christmas air.
“Oh, Corrie!” she said, “It’s so wonderful here! This is the day of all days to remember that we needn’t fear for what lies ahead. You have a home, a family, this beautiful place, and a loving Father in heaven watching over your every need!”
She turned back toward me and embraced me warmly. We held each other tight for a moment, then stepped back. Tears sprang to our eyes again, but neither of us said anything.
Then she took my hand and we began walking back down the slope toward the cabin. I glanced in that direction just in time to see Pa, who’d been standing on the porch, turn and go back inside. I wondered if he had been watching us. But I don’t think Mrs. Parrish saw him.
“I think it’s time we spread out those pies!” she said. “Knowing how men are, your pa will probably already be hungry again!”
Chapter 20
The Rest of Christmas Day
When we got back to the cabin, the spirits inside were high again.
In one corner Alkali Jones was telling one of his tall tales. The laughter of the kids and the gleam in his eye told me he was spinning a good one, probably no more true than his occasional claim that he told Sutter where to build his mill.
Miss Stansberry still held a dish towel in her hand, but instead of using it on anything she was talking to the minister with Uncle Nick standing to her right, listening to every word. I don’t think I’d ever seen Rev. Rutledge and Uncle Nick say two words to each other without Pa or Mrs. Parrish around. Now there they both were with Miss Stansberry.
Pa and Hermon Stansberry were at the fire, and it looked like Pa was explaining something to him about one of his guns. Pa was looking toward the door, and the minute we came in he burst out, as if he hadn’t seen us just a moment before, “Where you ladies been? We was about figurin’ on diggin’ into them pies without the two of you!”
Mrs. Parrish laughed and threw it right back at him, “Don’t you dare, Mr. Hollister! When I bring pies to such a festive gathering as this, I reserve the right to cut them myself!”
She came into the room as if it were her own house and marched right over to the basket of pies and started pulling them out. The minute she was back, the younger kids deserted poor Mr. Jones. His best story couldn’t hold a candle to being with Mrs. Parrish!
“Now, children, what would everyone like, do you suppose?” she said, testing a knife with the edge of her thumb.
“Apple . . . pumpkin . . . mince!” came the shouts all at once.
“Please, please!” she replied with a pretend scowl and a wag of her finger. “Who do we serve first?”
“The ladies,” said Emily.
“No, the company,” insisted Tad.
“Well, since I am both a lady and company,” returned Mrs. Parrish, “as well as the one who made the pies, my answer is that we serve the head of the family first.” She turned toward Pa with a little nod and smile. “Mr. Hollister,” she asked, “what is your pleasure?”
“Well, ma’am—thank you,” said Pa, taken a little by surprise, but pleased at the honor. “I reckon I’ll have a slice of your apple.”
“Very well. Zack, hand me that pie there, will you?”
“To begin with, that is!” added Pa.
Mrs. Parrish laughed. “Yes, of course, Mr. Hollister. I wouldn’t want you to go away hungry! That’s why I made plenty—I know how fond you are of pies!”
“And how would you know a thing like that, ma’am?” Pa’s voice had a tone in it I don’t think I’d ever heard before, at least toward Mrs. Parrish. He was always so serious around her and now it sounded like he was teasing her.
“There are ways to learn these things, Mr. Hollister,” replied Mrs. Parrish as she handed Pa his pie, then began cutting the others.
“I want to know how,” he insisted.
“Let’s just say I have my own set of spies.”
“My own kids tellin’ on their pa!”
“Oh, Pa, I just told her you liked pies!” I said. “There can’t be much harm in that.”
Pa kind of grunted, but threw me a wink as he did, just to make sure I knew he wasn’t serious about being upset, then drove his fork into Mrs. Parrish’s pie.
“And right tasty pie it is, too!” he said through his first large bite. “Worth waitin’ for, and worth bein’ spied on to get a hold of!”
Mrs. Parrish and I both laughed, and by now everyone else was gathered around. While Mrs. Parrish cut, I took orders and handed out the plates of pie. She’d made two apples, so even though there were almost a dozen of us, everybody had enough seconds to stuff themselves all over again, with pie left over in the end.
The rest of the day, both Pa and Mrs. Parrish were real cheerful and more friendly to each other than I’d ever seen them. I couldn’t for the life of me figure what it could have had to do with Pa’s announcement at dinner. Maybe it had something to do with Mrs. Parrish’s going out to be alone, and the talk she and I had. But whatever it was all about, I liked it real well.
With the warm fire, the food, and all the different people with us, it felt so good that I didn’t ever want the day to end. And if Pa’s marrying again was what it took to make him and Mrs. Parrish as close to each other as I was to both of them, maybe it was a good idea, after all.
I guess Mrs. Parrish must’ve thought so too, because she was buoyant the rest of the day. I’d never seen her like that. Maybe when she’d been outside alone thinking, she’d come to the conclusion that Pa’s decision to get married was a good one and she was happy about how much better it would be for all of us.
Darkness had already fallen, and before things started quieting down in the cabin, the men had wandered back to the table two or three times to pick and nibble at the leftovers. I was surprised at how long everybody stayed. But there
was enough of a moon that evening to light the ride back to Miracle, and everyone was enjoying the day too much to leave.
When it fell quiet for a moment, Mrs. Parrish rose, silently left the house, and returned from her buggy a minute or two later holding a large bag.
“I brought each of you some presents,” she said, glancing around at the five of us Hollister kids. “My apologies to the rest of you,” she added, looking at the Stansberrys, Uncle Nick, and Mr. Jones with a smile and shrug. “But you know what they say, Christmas is for children!”
“We’ll enjoy your giving to them just as much,” put in Miss Stansberry.
Then Mrs. Parrish reached into her bag and began pulling out little gifts, each wrapped in bright paper—dolls for the girls, a colorful wooden top for Tad, a pocketknife for Zack, and a new book called Moby Dick for me. When all our exclamations and thank-yous had died down some, she pulled one more little package out of her bag.
“I must confess, I have one for you, too, Mr. Hollister,” she said, handing it to Pa. “Apologies again to the rest of you!” she added looking quickly around the room. “I saw this the last time I was in Sacramento, and I immediately thought, ‘This looks like something Drummond Hollister would enjoy.’ So I bought it, and here it is.”
“That’s right kind of you, ma’am.” I could tell Pa was embarrassed by all the fuss, but he didn’t show it as his fingers tore off the paper and he took the nice carved pipe in his hands.
“It’s a fine looking pipe. You really pulled a surprise on me—Mrs.—Mrs. Parrish,” said Pa. “I can’t figure what to say, except thank you, ma’am.”
Mrs. Parrish nodded but didn’t reply.
“What’s that white stuff there?” asked Pa.
“That’s ivory, Mr. Hollister,” she said softly. “They carve it from the tusks of elephants in Africa.”
Pa gave a low whistle, indicating that he knew the pipe must have been expensive, while he kept turning it over and around in his hand.
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