[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring

by Janette Oke

"You got me a dress?"

  "Not a dress."

  "Well-skirt, then?"

  "No skirt. You can't climb a mountain with a skirt swishing about your legs, Elizabeth."

  "Then-" I was puzzled and a bit apprehensive by this time.

  "Pants."

  "Pants?"

  "That's right."

  "I've never worn pants in my life," I blurted out, emphasizing the word with some disfavor.

  "Then this will be a first," said Wynn, completely unflustered, nodding his head toward the bed.

  I followed his gaze. There, tossed on our bed in a rather awkward and haphazard fashion, was a pair of men's pants. They were an ugly color and very wrinkled, and I almost collapsed in shock as I looked at them.

  "Those?" I gasped.

  Wynn was now catching on. He stood to his feet. His eyes sought my face. He must have read my honest horror, for his voice became soft.

  "I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he apologized sincerely. "I guess I didn't think how they would look to you. They are rather a mess, aren't they?" I caught a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes as he crossed to the bed and picked up the pants he had just purchased. He awkwardly began to smooth out the wrinkles with his man-sized hands. I felt repentant. I reached to take them from him.

  "It's all right," I said, not wanting to hurt Wynn. "I could press the wrinkles out. It's not that. It's just that-that I couldn't go out-I couldn't be seen wearing something like that-in public and all-I-" I stammered to a stop.

  Wynn said nothing but continued to stroke his hands across the coarse fabric of the pants. The wrinkles refused to give up possession.

  "My skirt will be fine, Wynn; but thank you for thinking about-"

  Wynn looked at me evenly and didn't allow me to go on. "You cannot climb a mountain in a skirt, Elizabeth. Those are not just hiking trails. They are steep. They are dangerous. You cannot possibly go without proper clothing."

  Sudden anger flared within me. "And you call that `proper cloth ing'?" I responded, jerking a thumb at the disgusting pants.

  "For what we intend to do, yes."

  "Well, I won't wear them," I said, a bit too quickly.

  Wynn tossed them into a chair. "Very well," he said, and his voice was calm.

  I had won. I wasn't sure if I should be happy or sad. It was our first little tiff and I had won. Now, as a wife, how was I to win graciously? I sought for words, for ways to show Wynn that I would not expect to win every battle. I didn't know what to say, so I crossed the room and began to take down my hair and brush it with long, easy strokes. The tension remained within me, even though Wynn seemed untroubled.

  I stole a glance at him. He was reading a paper. He must have bought it, too, when he had gone out for the pants. I noticed a pair of brown hoots sitting on the floor by the bed. I started to ask Wynn about them and then realized how small they were. They would never fit Wynn. What were they doing in our room? Then it dawned on me: Wynn had purchased them, not for himself but for me for me to wear on my hike up the mountain! Not just the unsightly pants, but the mannish boots as well. How could he even have considered being seen with a woman in such outlandish attire?

  I was stroking so hard with the hairbrush that I winced with the pain of it. I couldn't imagine a man even thinking such a ridiculous thing. Well, my skirt and shoes would be just fine. I wouldn't be caught traipsing around on my honeymoon looking so utterly unkempt and ridiculous.

  Someone had to break the silence of the room.

  "What time do we leave?" I asked innocently. We had already established a time, but I had to say something.

  "Where?" said Wynn, lowering his paper.

  "Up the mountain," I replied with some impatience.

  Wynn was slow in answering. "Elizabeth, I'm afraid I'm guilty of not fully explaining our trip up the mountain." He laid the paper aside and rose to his full height. I felt dwarfed beside him.

  "Parts of the trail are very steep. It's tough climbing. One doesn't need ropes, but one does need to be very careful. A fall could mean serious injury."

  "You told me that. I'll be careful. I promise."

  "Coming back down, there are parts of the trail where it is wise to sit down and ease yourself down over some of the steeper spots."

  He looked at. me to be sure I was understanding what he was saying. I nodded that I understood.

  "There are places so steep that you need to use the branches of the nearby trees and the handgrips of the rocks to help boost yourself up."

  I remembered that Wynn had told me that before, as well. I nodded again.

  "It's a long way up to the mountain lake. It's a long, hard climb."

  "Just what are you trying to say, Wynn?" I demanded. "Do you think I don't have the endurance to make the climb?"

  "No," he said evenly. "I think you could make it. We wouldn't need to hurry. I could help you whenever you needed it-if you needed it. It would be my pleasure."

  I thought of our much-talked-about trip up the mountainside. I thought of Wynn's description of the beautiful mountain lake. I thought of sharing the sack lunch way up there in the isolation of the mountains. The thoughts stirred my emotions. I was more anxious than ever to go.

  "So when should we leave?" I asked again.

  Wynn took a deep breath and looked squarely at me. "I'm afraid we won't be going, Elizabeth."

  My hand stopped midstroke. I stared at him incredulously. What was he doing? Punishing me for winning? But Wynn didn't seem the type to retaliate. Yet Mother had always said you don't know a person until you live with him. So this was Wynn? I couldn't believe it.

  "Not going?" I finally choked out. "Why?"

  "You can't climb a mountain in a dress, Elizabeth; and you have refused to wear the pants," he stated calmly and finally.

  So I hadn't won. Wynn had agreed to the "no pants," but he hadn't agreed to the "no pants" and the mountain hike.

  "That's silly," I almost hissed. "I've been in a dress all my life, and I've never been a casualty yet."

  "You've never climbed a mountain yet," was his matter-of-fact response.

  "And I guess I'm not about to now," I threw back at him. Even I was surprised at the intensity of my words.

  "I'm sorry," was all he said. He turned and went back to his paper. I continued to briskly brush my hair. It didn't need it. I had brushed it quite enough already, but I didn't know what else to do with myself.

  My thoughts whirled in a confused state. I had heard of first quarrels. I knew that Wynn was not one to be pushed around. But this was such a silly little thing to be fighting over. Surely he doesn't expect me to give in and wear those ridiculous and unsightly pants! No man who loved his wife would ask such a thing. I bristled even more. W4 Mother would be ashamed to own me were she to see me in such an outfit! Wynn understood nothing about women's dress and propriety.

  Finally Wynn laid aside the paper. I knew he really hadn't been concentrating on it-just hiding behind it.

  "You're angry with me, aren't you, Elizabeth?" His voice sounded so contrite that I prepared myself for his change of mind. I did not answer. I didn't yet trust my voice.

  "Do you realize that we have been married for one whole day and we have already had a disagreement?" asked Wynn softly.

  I still did not answer.

  "I really wasn't prepared for this," stated Wynn. "Not yet, at any rate. I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I do love you-you know that. I love you very much and I do wish this hadn't happened." He spoke so sincerely that I laid aside the brush. Maybe he wasn't so stubborn after all. I was quite ready to make up and forgive and forget. Men didn't understand about women's concern for how they looked, that was all. Now that Wynn knew, there wouldn't be any future fusses on that score.

  I crossed to him and put my arms around his neck. He pulled me down on his lap and held me close. I returned his kiss and ran my fingers through his thick, dark hair. I loved him. He was my husband and I loved him.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered. "Truly I am. I acted like a sp
oiled child and I'm-I don't usually act so silly. I guess I was just terribly disappointed."

  He kissed me again, holding me very close. I could scarcely breathe, but I didn't mind.

  I traced the outline of his firm jaw with a finger. "What time would you like me to be ready?" I whispered.

  "You won't be too embarrassed at being seen in men's pants?"

  I started, then stood up, pushing away his arms.

  "Wynn," I said firmly. "I am not wearing those pants!"

  He stood up, too, and said just as firmly, "Elizabeth, if you are not wearing the pants, then we are not going up that mountain. Do I make myself clear? I will not take you over those dangerous trails, sweeping along a skirt behind you. You could fall and kill yourself. It's the pants, or not at all, Elizabeth. You decide."

  I whirled from him. How can he be so stubborn? I couldn't believe the man.

  "Then I guess we will have to find something else to do," I said defiantly. "I will not wear those pants. Do I make myself clear?" I stressed every one of the words. "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing those ugly men's pants or-those-those equally ugly heavy boots. Not even to climb a mountain on my honeymoon with the man I love."

  I whirled again to leave him, but Wynn caught my arm.

  "Don't fight dirty, Elizabeth," he said softly, but there was steel in his voice and a soft sadness, too.

  The words jarred some sense into me. I couldn't believe how I was acting. This was not the way I had been raised. In our household, the man was always the one in charge; Mother had carefully schooled each one of her daughters to believe that was the right way for a Christian household to be run, and here I was-one day married-and fighting back like a bantam hen.

  I bit my lip to stop its trembling and turned away from Wynn. He did not release me.

  "We need to talk, Elizabeth," he said gently. "I don't think that either of us is quite ready for it now. I'm going to take a walk-get some air. I won't be long-and when I get back-if you are ready-" He left the sentence unfinished and let go of my arm. I heard the door close quietly behind him.

  I really don't know how long Wynn was gone. I only know that I spent the time in tears and, finally, in prayer. Wynn was the head of the home-my home. Even though I did not agree with him, I still needed to submit to his authority if ours was to be a truly Christian home-a happy home. He had not been wrong. I had been wrong. Deep within myself I knew I would have been disappointed in Wynn if he had allowed me to be the victor when he felt so strongly about my safety. I needed to be able to lean on him, to know for sure that he was in charge. So then, why had I tried to take over? Why was mere fashion so important to me? I didn't know. I only know that by the time Wynn's footsteps sounded in the hall, I had worked it all out with prayer and tears of repentance.

  I met him at the door. Considering my concern for how I looked, I must have looked a mess, but Wynn made no mention of it. He took me in his arms and began to kiss my tear-washed face. "I'm sorry," I sobbed. "I'm truly sorry. Not for hating pants-I don't expect that I'll ever like them, Wynn; but I'm sorry for getting angry with you for doing what you thought was right for me."

  Wynn smoothed back my hair. "And I'm sorry, Elizabeth. Sorry to hurt you when I love you so. Sorry there isn't some other way I could show you that mountain lake. Sorry I had to insist on the pants if-"

  "Have to insist," I corrected him.

  He frowned slightly.

  "Have to insist on the pants," I repeated. "I still want to see that lake, Wynn; and, if you will still take me, I'll wear the pants. Just pray that we won't meet anyone on the trail," I added quickly. "I wouldn't even want to meet a bear wearing those things."

  Wynn looked surprised, then pleased, then amused. He hugged me closer and laughed. "Believe me, Elizabeth, if there was any other way-

  "It's all right," I assured him.

  "I love you, Elizabeth. I love you. Trust me?"

  I nodded my head up against his broad chest.

  "There will be times, Elizabeth, when we won't agree about things. Times when I will need to make decisions in our future."

  I knew that Wynn was thinking ahead to our life in the North.

  "I might have to ask you to do things you will find difficult, things you can't understand or don't agree with. Do you understand that?"

  I nodded again. I had just been through all that in my talk with my God.

  "I love you, Elizabeth. I will try to never make decisions to satisfy my ego or to show my manly authority, but I must do what I think is right for you-to care for you and protect you. Can you understand that?"

  I searched his face and nodded again.

  "This time-the pants-it would be too dangerous on the trail in a skirt. I know the trail, Elizabeth. I would never expose you to the possibilities of a bad fall. I-"

  I stopped him then by laying a finger gently on his lips. "It's all right. I understand now. I'm glad you love me enough to fight my foolish pride. I mean it, Wynn. Thanks for standing firm-for being strong. I needed that. I'm ready to let you be the head of the home. And I want you to remind me of that as often as necessary-until I really learn it well."

  I had tears in my eyes. But then, so did Wynn. I reached up to brush one of them from his cheek. "I love you, Mrs. Delaney," he whispered.

  "And I love you, Mr. Delaney," I countered.

  His arms tightened about me. "I'm truly sorry this happened," he said.

  I looked at him, deep into his eyes. "I'm not," I said slowly, sincerely. "I'm ready now-ready to be your real wife. Ready to go with you to the North-to the ends of the earth if need be. I need you, Wynn. I need you and love you."

  EIGHT

  ✓/'Counfain CaAe

  We were up early the next morning. We had a quick breakfast and then went to prepare ourselves for the trip up the mountain. Wynn had gone to the kitchen to pick up our lunch, which he put in a backpack along with a good supply of water. I dressed while he was gone, not wanting even my husband to see me in the ugly pants.

  I wasn't going to look at myself in the mirror. I didn't want to know what I looked like. I walked to the dresser to pick up a scarf and accidentally got a full look at myself. Later I was glad I did. The sight stopped me short and resulted in my doubling over with laughter. Wynn found me like this. He wasn't sure at first if I was really amused or just hysterical.

  "Look at. me!" I howled. "I look like an unsightly bag of lumpy potatoes." When Wynn discovered that I really was amused at how I looked, he laughed with me. The bulky pants bagged out at unlikely points, hiding my waist and any hint of a feminine shape. I had looped a belt around my waist and gathered the pants as tightly about myself as I could. This only made them bulge more.

  "They are a bit big," Wynn confessed. "I guess I should have asked you about the size."

  "I wouldn't have been able to tell you anyway, never having worn pants before. Oh, well, they'll do."

  I stopped to roll up the legs and exposed the awkward boots on my feet.

  "Are you about ready?" asked Wynn when we both stopped laughing at the spectacle I made.

  "Ready," I answered, standing to my full height and saluting. We laughed again and headed for the door.

  Wynn was kind enough to take me out the back way to avoid meeting other hotel guests. We circled around and followed the path to the mountain trail and began our long climb upward. We hadn't gone far when I realized what Wynn had meant. I had to grab for branches and roots in order to pull myself upward. Time after time, Wynn reached to assist me. We climbed slowly with frequent rests. I knew Wynn was setting an easy pace for me and I appreciated it. Every now and then, I would stop to gaze back over the trail we had just climbed. It was incredibly steep. I could catch a glimpse of one valley or another through the thickness of the trees. I could hardly wait to be above the timberline to view the lonely world beneath us.

  By noon we had reached our goal. Sheer rock stretched up and up beyond us. Below us lay the valley with the little town of Banff nestled saf
ely within its arms. It truly took my breath away. Here and there I could see the winding path we had just climbed, as it twisted in and out of the undergrowth beneath us.

  "It's breathtaking," I whispered, still panting slightly from the climb. "Oh, Wynn, I'm so glad we came."

  Wynn stepped over to wrap an arm securely about me. "Me, too," was all he said.

  We found a place to have our lunch. By then I was ravenous. Wynn tossed his coat onto a slice of rock and motioned for me to be seated. I did, drinking in the sight before me.

  "Where's the lake?" I asked him.

  "See that ragged outcropping of rock there?" he pointed.

  I nodded.

  "It's just on the other side of that."

  "Does it take long to get there?"

  "Only about half an hour."

  "Let's hurry," I prompted.

  Wynn laughed at my impatience. "We have lots of time," he assured me. "It's faster going down than coming up."

  He took my hand and we bowed together to thank God for the food provided. Wynn's prayer also included thanks for the sight that stretched out before us and our opportunity to share it together. I tightened my grip on his hand, thinking back on how close we had come to not making the climb. I looked down at the funny pants I was wearing. They no longer shocked me. They only brought a bubble of laughter.

  We were almost finished with our lunch when we heard voices. Another group had also made the climb. They were getting very close, and I was looking about for a place to hide. I.recognized one of the voices. It belonged to a very fashionable lady I had seen in the hotel lobby the day before. Oh, my goodness! Whatever would she think of me when she spied me in the insufferable pants? I could see no place to shield myself, and then I braced myself and began to chuckle. So what! I'd likely never see the woman again in my life. The pants had provided me with a very pleasant day with my new husband. They were nothing that I needed to be ashamed of. I took another bite of sandwich and flashed Wynn a grin. He had been watching me to see which way I would choose to run.

  A man appeared. He was tall and dark, with very thin shoulders and a sallow face. He looked like he was more used to trolley cars and taxis than his own legs, and I wondered how he had managed to make the climb. He did seem to be enjoying it and turned to give his hand to the person who followed him. I was right. It was the attractive young woman. I wondered how she had managed to climb a mountain with her hair so perfectly in place. Her body came slowly up over the sharp rise and into view. I gasped. She, too, was dressed in ugly men's pants. Wynn and I looked at one another, trying hard to smother our laughter.