Seasons of the Heart: Omnibus

by Janette Oke

  Chester seemed to sense my mood, and once we were on the road he was ready to run. I guess he thought that this time he might be able to get away with it. I didn't let him though, for even though there was a bit of a moon and even though his night-eyes were better than mine, I still knew it was unwise to let a horse travel at full gallop in the dark.

  It seemed to take an especially long time to cover the distance to the farm. Normally I would let my mind wander to many things, but tonight I could only think of the new baby. Whole and well and brand new and Doc said that she was fine, just fine.

  At last I reached the farm and was a bit surprised to see the house all dark. But I should have known it would be. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie went to bed somewhere around ten each night, and this night being no different than any other as far as they were concerned, they would have followed their usual pattern.

  I argued briefly with myself as to whether to flip Chester's rein over the gate post and run in with the news or to take Chester to the barn-as would need to be done eventually anyway-and then go to the house. I decided to go ahead and bed Chester down. It was hard to make myself go to the barn first but I knew I would hate to come back out to care for Chester after I had delivered the good news.

  Chester was glad to see his own stall. I didn't figure him to be too hungry, knowing that he had already been well fed, but I hurriedly forked him a bit of hay just in case he had a notion to eat. He started in on it right away.

  I scarcely took the time to secure the barn door before I was off to the house on the run. It was a fair distance between the house and the barn-a fact I had never particularly noted before. I was puffing by the time I hit the back porch. The back door, as usual, was not locked. I wasn't sure my Grandpa could lock it even if he wanted to. I pushed it open and it squeaked just a bit.

  I wanted to holler out my news, but my good sense held me in check. If I came in shouting I'd scare Grandpa and Uncle Charlie half to death.

  I climbed the steps quickly, trying not to make too much noise. I never even thought about the squeaky one until I heard it protest beneath my foot.

  "Who is it?" Grandpa called out.

  "Me;' I answered in a whispery voice.

  I heard Uncle Charlie stirring, but the noise didn't come from his bed. He was sitting near his window in the old chair. I knew then that he had watched me ride into the yard, take Chester to the barn and run for the house.

  For a moment I forgot about Grandpa, about Aunt Lou, even about the new baby.

  "What are you doing up?" I quizzed Uncle Charlie.

  "Nothin' much;' he answered evasively. "Just can't git along with my bed sometimes"

  Grandpa called out again, "Be right there:" I could hear the bed springs groaning as he lifted himself from the bed and began to pull on his pants.

  "I take it you have some news;' Grandpa said as he came out of the bedroom, a lighted lamp in his hand.

  "Sure do," I beamed, my thoughts jumping immediately back to Sarah Jane.

  "Well?" prompted Uncle Charlie.

  "Another girl," I fairly cheered. "And she is just fine:"

  "And Lou?" asked Grandpa. In his heart he knew that I wouldn't be grinning from ear to ear unless Aunt Lou was just fine, too. But Lou was his little girl, and Grandpa wouldn't be at ease until he heard it said.

  "Fine!" I said. "Just fine-an' happy."

  "Thank you, Father!" Grandpa said softly and I understood his little prayer of gratitude. Then he began to grin. I could see his face by the light of the lamp he held in his hand. He was beaming.

  Uncle Charlie had moved to join us in the hallway. He was grinning too-a wide, infectious smile. He looked about the happiest I had ever seen him. But I was surprised at how slowly he moved. Grandpa turned to him with concern in his eyes and voice.

  "Another bad night?" he asked, and Uncle Charlie nodded. I didn't understand the question-or the answer. Why was Uncle Charlie having bad nights? Why was he moving toward the stairs like an old man? Why did he reach out a hand to assist himself as he descended? I hadn't known about any of this. Why hadn't someone informed me?

  "Was Doc there?" Uncle Charlie asked. He knew that sometimes Doc was out on one call when he was needed elsewhere.

  "Got him myself," I explained. "He was right at home when I went for him."

  "Was Nat there?" asked Grandpa, and I knew that Grandpa was thinking of the last time.

  `All the time;' I answered.

  "Good!" said Grandpa, and he beamed some more as he set the lamp on the kitchen table.

  Uncle Charlie shuffled to the stove, shook it up, and put in a few more sticks of wood. The stove had been banked for the night; before long the wood caught and I could hear the blaze grow. Uncle Charlie pushed forward the coffeepot.

  "Tell us about her;' Grandpa was saying, excitement filling his voice.

  Uncle Charlie eased a chair toward the table and lowered himself slowly onto it. He leaned forward eagerly, not wanting to miss a word.

  "She's not very big;' I started, indicating with my hands, much as I often did when I told a fish story.

  "'Course not;' cut in Grandpa.

  "An' she-she-" How could I say that she was red and wrinkled and sort of puffy? Would they understand?

  "Has she any hair?"

  "Lots of it-dark:"

  "Just like Lou;' cut in Grandpa.

  "What color are her eyes?" Uncle Charlie asked.

  "I-I-don't really know. She didn't open them much, but they are sorta dark, I guess:'

  "Did Doc say how much she weighs?"

  I hadn't heard him say anything about her weight. I just shook my head.

  "Tell us about Lou," Grandpa was prompting.

  "Well-"

  "Was it a long-?" began Grandpa again.

  It had seemed half of forever to me, but I shrugged and said honestly, "Doc said it was real good. Real good. I went for him about quarter-to-nine and Sarah was born just before midnight:"

  Grandpa and Uncle Charlie exchanged grins and nods and I understood that they were well satisfied with that.

  "But Aunt Lou says that she was having some-some-"

  "Contractions."

  "Yeah, from about one o'clock on. But they didn't get strong until about suppertime" I didn't want them to get the idea that it had been too easy.

  "But she's fine now?" This was from Grandpa again.

  "Just fine;' I reassured him.

  Uncle Charlie eased himself off his chair and went for the coffeepot. I wasn't sure that the coffee would be hot enough yet, but perhaps Uncle Charlie needed something to occupy his hands.

  He poured three cups and brought two of them, a bit of steam rising from each, to the table. He passed one cup to Grandpa and put one down in front of me. It was the first time I noticed that his fingers looked funny. I was about to ask if he had hurt his hand when I noticed that the other hand looked the same way. I shut my mouth quickly on the unasked question and looked at Grandpa, but he didn't seem to read the question in my eyes. I guess he was still too busy celebrating his new granddaughter.

  "Her name," he said suddenly. "You haven't told us her name:"

  "It's Sarah;' I told him. "Sarah Jane:"

  "That's nice," said Grandpa, and Uncle Charlie, who was just returning to the table with his own cup of coffee, repeated the name after me. "Sarah Jane;' he said, "Sarah Jane. That's nice:"

  I suddenly remembered Aunt Lou's letter. I fished it from my pocket and handed it to Grandpa. He opened it eagerly and began to read it aloud to Uncle Charlie. There wasn't much more for me to say about little Sarah Jane. Aunt Lou was saying it all.

  We sat and drank our coffee and chatted some more about the new baby and Aunt Lou and Uncle Nat. But watching Uncle Charlie's clumsy fingers try to lift the coffee cup to his mouth took some of the joy out of the event for me. He spilled a bit as he tried to drink. I noticed the dark liquid dribble over his fingers more than once as he raised the cup to his mouth. Maybe this was why Uncle Charlie didn't l
et the coffee get as steaming hot as he used to.

  I thought of all the times I had watched Uncle Charlie lift the cup to his lips and take a full gulp of steaming hot coffee and somehow manage to swallow it with no harm done. But he had steady hands then. Not gnarled fingers that couldn't grip things tightly.

  "I'm pretty tired I guess;' I finally excused myself. "Think I'll go on up to bed"

  Grandpa was still grinning but he stifled a yawn. "Me, too," he said and reached for the lamp.

  "You two go ahead;' Uncle Charlie waved us on. "I think I'll just sit here for a bit longer. Maybe have another cup:"

  I looked at Grandpa.

  "Did you take one of the pills?" he asked.

  Uncle Charlie nodded.

  "Still no relief?"

  "Some:" Both Grandpa and I knew that Uncle Charlie wasn't admitting to much.

  Grandpa left the lamp on the table and we climbed the stairs without it.

  When we got up to the hallway I reached out a hand to Grandpa.

  "What is it?" I asked in a whisper.

  Grandpa didn't seem to understand my question.

  "What's the matter with Uncle Charlie?" I asked then.

  "What do you mean?"

  "His hands-all-all twisted, and his walk so slow and-"

  "Oh, that;' responded Grandpa matter-of-factly. "That's just his arthritis. It's gettin' worse"

  Arthritis! Worse! How come I'd never noticed it before?

  "How long-how long has he been this way?" I found myself asking.

  "He's had arthritis some for years;' Grandpa responded. "But he has his good days and his bad days. Folks say the weather. It's steadily getting worse, though. It's really into his hands bad now. Used to just be in his knees and his back:"

  There wasn't much that I could say, so I let Grandpa go. "See you in the morning;' I muttered and turned to my bedroom.

  I lay awake a long time that night-thinking of more than our new Sarah Jane. I thought a great deal about Uncle Charlie. It scared me, this arthritis. Already it had made him into an old man. It had happened so gradually that I had missed it.

  But not now. Now it was very obvious. Uncle Charlie was not a complainer, but it was easy to see that even small tasks were hard for him to accomplish. And how could he ever farm?

  I fought for sleep, both to escape my uneasy thoughts and because I knew I would need it. Grandpa had said that we would leave for town just as soon as we could finish up the chores the next morning, and I knew without asking that Grandpa would start those chores a little earlier than usual.

  Even so, it was a long time until I could lay aside my excitement-and my worry-and let sleep claim me.

  CHAPTER 5

  Graduation

  It took several days for things to fall back into a normal routine. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie visited the parsonage with far more frequency than usual. I think they were a little afraid that young Sarah Jane might grow up when they weren't looking. Anyway, they came in often to check on her.

  Sarah Jane greatly changed the procedures of the household. Aunt Lou didn't seem to get as much baking done as she used to, and both Uncle Nat and I found ourselves helping around the house more. That baby was either hungry or wet every five minutes.

  She was a good little tyke, though. Lou kept telling Uncle Nat and me over and over what a good baby she was, and I was quite willing to take Aunt Lou's word for it. She certainly did a great deal of sleeping. Whenever I brought one of my friends in for a peek at her she was either sleeping or eating, it seemed to me, and neither one worked too well for showing her off.

  She very quickly lost her redness and her wrinkles, and soon she had a soft, pinkish look and a little round head capped with dark downy hair. She opened her eyes more, too; often she would lie in my arms and look at my face as if she knew just who I was and how I fit into her life. I loved it when she looked at me that way; if no one was close enough to hear, I'd talk to her and tell her things about myself so that she really would know me. We all adored her-after all, we all loved Lou, and had waited for this special baby for a long time.

  I expected that now it would be even harder to study, and in some ways it was. But suddenly it became very important for me to get good grades as I left the school system and went out into the world. I wouldn't have admitted it to a soul, but I didn't want Sarah to ever have reason to be ashamed of me. So I pitched into those textbooks like I'd never done in my whole life-and it worked, too. I ended up with the best set of marks I had ever gotten.

  Willie dropped by now and then. Sometimes we studied together, and we played with Sarah, but mostly we just took a break from our books and talked. One Thursday afternoon he tapped on my window, and I could tell just by looking that he was really excited about something. I pushed back my Advanced Speller and opened the window.

  "Is Sarah sleepin'?" Willie asked.

  I nodded.

  "Then come out" Willie didn't want to take any chances on his excitement waking the baby.

  I eased the window back down quietly and headed for the back door.

  "What is it?" I asked as soon as I was clear of the kitchen.

  "Mary;" beamed Willie. "She became a Christian"

  Now I knew why Willie was excited. I was excited, too. We gave each other a big hug, pounding one another on the back. Mary had been coming to church every Sunday since she had been to the Youth Group with Willie.

  "When?" I asked when I could speak.

  "Just this afternoon. I came to tell you just as soon as I could:"

  I slapped Willie on the back again. I couldn't help but think how happy I would feel if I had the same good news about Camellia.

  "That's great!" I said. "Just great"

  Afraid that my tears might show, I pulled away and headed for the backyard swing that Uncle Charlie had built for Lou. Willie followed me without a word; I guess he knew I was feeling rather emotional.

  Avoiding Willie's eyes, I gave a little push with one foot to start the swing in gentle motion and looked at it carefully like I had never done in the past. Uncle Charlie was skilled with simple tools. Each board was carefully fashioned and properly joined. The arm where my hand rested was polished smooth and shaped for comfort. I ran my hand idly over it, wondering if Uncle Charlie would ever be able to hold a hammer or a plane again. Then my thoughts jerked back to the present.

  "What do her folks think?" I asked Willie.

  "I don't know about her pa. He hasn't said much. But her ma says that it's Mary's decision and that she'll support her in her new faith. I think she wishes that she had the courage to make the commitment herself. She must have done a great deal of thinking when she was so ill"

  "I suppose;' I agreed.

  "Mary is already praying for her ma. She says it's just a matter of time, she knows, until her ma will become a Christian too. She says she thinks that her ma has been searching for God for a long time, just hasn't known where or how to find Him. An' now that Mary knows, she can help her ma."

  The excitement had grown in Willie's voice again. His eyes were shining.

  "Josh," he said, "this is the first person that I have talked to about my faith, the first one to become a Christian because of it. It's-it's-well, it is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me"

  I had never had the experience myself, although I had tried-with Camellia, with her ma, even with Jack Berry in prison by letter after I finally forgave him. None of those had worked. I still prayed for all of them, though.

  "Does Mary feel called to the mission field too?" I asked.

  Willie looked just a bit puzzled.

  "I dunno," he answered.

  "Isn't that-isn't that pretty important?"

  "Well, she needs to learn a bit more about being a Christian before she thinks about where God wants her, don't you think?"

  "But you already know where God wants you;' I pressed.

  "So?" said Willie with a shrug.

  "So it just might be important where He wants you
r girl:"

  "My girl?" Willie really seemed confused now.

  "Mary!" I said impatiently to jog his failing memory. "The girl you just brought to the faith. Mary! If you are going to train to be a missionary, then perhaps it would be a bit handy if your girl would be one, too"

  Willie looked dumbfounded.

  "Mary isn't my girl," he said at last.

  "What?"

  "Where'd you ever get that idea?"

  "From you," I said. "You brought her to Youth Group and you've been bringing her to church an' you-"

  "But she's not my girl."

  "Does Mary know that?" I threw back at Willie.

  "Of course! We're just friends. Mary's understood that all along. We talked it over the first night I asked her to Youth Group"

  "And you came together as friends?" It seemed preposterous to me. "You mean you brought her and talked to her and shared your faith, just as a friend? Not because you liked her?"

  Willie shook his head as though he couldn't believe just how stupid I was.

  "Josh, you don't just share your faith with girls you want to go out with" Willie couldn't hide his grin, even though he was a bit impatient with me. "I brought Mary to the Youth Group because she is a great girl, a good friend-one who has never really had a chance. She never attended church. Never got to spend time with those of us from the church. How else was she going to hear?"

  "I just thought-" I interrupted. "Well, everyone thought that you liked Mary-special like."

  "I couldn't court a non-Christian girl, and you know it, Josh. You know that God wants me to be a missionary. How could I be a missionary if I went and got sweet on a girl and married her and she didn't even share my faith? Why-"

  I had thought of it;' I admitted. "It didn't make much sense to me either:"

  We sat in silence for a few minutes and then I dared to say, "Well, she's a Christian now, so if you decide you do like her-no problem."

  Willie stepped from the swing, making it stop with a jarring movement. His hand reached up to smooth back his hair. I recognized the movement as one of exasperation.

  "Okay, okay," I said quickly before Willie had a chance to speak. "So she stays a friend."