Love's unfolding dream (Love Comes Softly Series #6) (26 page)

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very cooperative with the plan, whatever it was, but she found herself watching the clock and chafing a bit as the afternoon slowly moved along. Clark's return seemed to take longer than usual, and Marty was getting anxious to return home. When he finally did arrive, she said good-bye to Ma Graham and climbed into the wagon with an assist from Clark.

Her birthday always meant a family dinner. The offspring took turns year by year hosting the celebration. Marty did not try to keep track of where the birthday dinner had been or where it might be this time. The girls always knew, they informed Clark, and without discussion of where they were to celebrate, Clark always got Marty to the right home at the appointed time.

Most years Marty enjoyed the little game. She purposely tried not to think of whose turn it should be so that she could savor the "surprise," but as Clark clucked again to the team, Marty found her mind reviewing the last few years of birthday dinners.

It had been at Arnie and Anne's last year, and the year before, at Nandry and Josh's. Before that? Marty had to really concentrate. Oh yes. It was at Clare and Kate's. But, no, surely this year it was to be at Kate's or they would be late for dinner. And it sure looked as if they were headed for home.

It was a weekday, so the dinner would be the evening meal. They always had an early dinner together when the celebration occurred on a weekday, and even then it tended to be rushed. Marty cast an anxious eye at the sky It was getting late. Before too long the cows would need milking. Marty stirred restlessly on the seat. She did hate being rushed. Time with family always seemed so short.

It must be at Clare and Kate's,
she concluded. There just wouldn't be time to drive to one of the other homes.
I'm mistaken about three years back. That year must have been at Luke's and--but no,
she interrupted herself,
I can distinctly remember Kate's chicken and dumplings.
For some reason, she decided, Luke and Abbie were

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unable to have the family this year and so Kate was taking their turn.

Marty's thoughts turned from speculation to worry
Was Abbie not feeling well? No one had told her--

"Did ya have a good chat with Ma?" Clark's voice broke into her thoughts.

Marty blinked in surprise and shifted her attention back to her husband. His face was relaxed, his hands firmly holding the reins as he expertly guided the team down the country road.

Why was he asking about Ma in the middle of thoughts of birthday? And then Marty realized that just because her mind was totally absorbed with her birthday dinner, that was no reason Clark's thoughts should be taken with it, as well. Perhaps this time he
had
forgotten.
Perhaps . . .
Marty felt a little stab of disappointment. But
once
in all of the years of their marriage? Surely she could forgive him this once.

"Oh yes . . . yes," Marty stammered. "We had us a good chat. Ma's as perky as can be. Full of plans and tales of grandkids an' . . ." she hesitated. "Where'd ya get the idea that she was feelin' down?" she asked, turning on the seat so that she could look full at Clark's face.

"Feelin' down?" Clark echoed. "I don't recall ever sayin' Ma was down."

"But ya said . . . ya said she needed a bit of a visit . . . some cheerin' up, ya said."

Clark just smiled his teasing smile. "I know yer visits always cheer Ma up. Jest by yer being' there I know."

But Marty was not in the mood to listen. Something seemed to be wrong here. A little hurt stirred within her. Had her whole family forgotten her birthday?

She strained forward as the team slowed to make the turn up the lane that led to their farm. Her eyes scanned the hitching rails expecting to see signs of Arnie, Luke, and Josh, but no teams

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stood placidly swatting at annoying flies. No wagons sat empty in the farmyard.

They have,
sighed Marty
Ever' last one of 'em. They've all forgotten.

Marty felt an unaccustomed heaviness as Clark helped her down from the wagon. Was age catching up with her? She hadn't noticed it before. Oh, true, she was slowing down some. She was aware of it as she hoed her garden or hung out the wash, but she had done nothing all day long and yet she felt weary--nothing, that is, except to "cheer up" Ma Graham.

Marty turned to go up the walk to the front door. She was almost there before she realized that Clark, who usually went right on down to the barn with the horses, was at her side. Ignoring her questioning look, he opened the door for her, and she led the way onto the big back porch.

Her mind was already in the kitchen. The hour was late. What would she prepare for their supper? She hadn't planned on having to get the meal this night. It should have been her special birthday dinner. She wasn't to have--

"Surprise!" "Happy Birthday!" exploded all around her as she opened the door into the kitchen. She heard her own voice catch in a gasp and felt Clark's hand of support on her arm.

"Oh my!" said Marty taking a step back from the noise and confusion. "Oh my!"

They were all there. Every one of them. The horses and wagons had been carefully hidden from sight. The trip to Ma's had been a ruse--one that Ma herself had helped plan and support. Clark had gone to town and whiled away the hours until the time he was told to have Marty back home.

But this time it was the girls' surprise. Belinda, Melissa, and Amy Jo. They had insisted to the family members that it was "our turn" to have Marty's birthday dinner. They had even gotten an excused absence from their schoolteacher in order to have the

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afternoon free to prepare the meal. They had cooked every dish from start to finish. Marty could only exclaim over and over as she hugged the three and tried to swallow the tears crowding against the back of her throat.

A small bouquet of fresh spring wild flowers graced the table, which was carefully set with Marty's good china. Everything was in readiness, and Clark quickly urged the family to take their places at the table "before the food gets cold," the girls insisted.

After Clark's prayer, the mothers fixed plates for the younger ones and the older children waited on themselves. With a flurry of noise and commotion they headed for their favorite spot on the back veranda. When things quieted, the adults began their meal, Belinda, Melissa, and Amy Jo hovering nearby to pour the coffee and wait on the table.

The gravy was just a bit lumpy, the biscuits a bit too brown, and the fried chicken a teeny bit dry, but to Marty, the meal was delicious and she kept telling the girls so, over and over.

"Did we surprise you? Did you guess?" Amy Jo kept asking.

"I had no idea," Marty assured her. She didn't add that she'd been a mite worried that her family had forgotten her. "Ya did it all? Yerselves?"

The girls laughed merrily, pleased that their plan had worked so well, and pleased, too, that Marty seemed so surprised at their achievement.

"We all shared in the cooking," Melissa explained. "Even Amy Jo. She did the potatoes and the cole slaw"

"An' Melissa did the chicken an' the biscuits, an' Belinda the vegetables," Amy Jo quickly put in, wanting to give proper credit where credit was due. "And Belinda made the cake, too," she added as an afterthought.

"It's yer favorite. Spice," Belinda told her.

After the meal was over, the children were called in from the porch and the whole family joined together in the singing of

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"Happy Birthday" the little ones anxious for the fun of handing out the gifts. Marty exclaimed over and over as the lovingly chosen and handmade gifts were presented to her.

The three girls saved their gifts until the other members of the family had all presented theirs.

"I wanted you to have this, Grandma," said Melissa, passing to Marty a carefully wrapped gift in light-blue paper.

Marty unwrapped it to find a beautifully bound edition of
The Pilgrim's Progress.
Marty knew it was selected from Melissa's private library making it all the more meaningful to her.

Amy Jo came next. Her gift was not as carefully wrapped, but the colorful paper was festive. Marty began to unwrap the present, noticing that her hands trembled from excitement.

She lifted away the paper and found herself looking straight into the eyes of Melissa--from Amy Jo's first attempt at a portrait. There really was a likeness, and though Amy Jo's art would need years of polishing and perfecting, Marty was amazed that the girl had done so well. "Oh my, Amy Jo! You did good--real good on this picture," Marty exclaimed, and other family members began to crowd around to see Amy Jo's art. There were many congratulations and enthusiastic comments, and Amy Jo beamed her pleasure.

When the excitement died down, Belinda pressed forward. She handed Marty a small package. "Remember the lace collar ya saw and liked?" she murmured. "Well, I couldn't afford to buy it, but I found a pattern almost like it, an' I crocheted ya one myself. It's not as nice but--"

Marty slipped the lace collar out of the paper. Belinda had done a beautiful job. Marty traced the delicate floral pattern with a tip of her finger.

"Why, it's even prettier," she said softly, her eyes thanking Belinda even more than her voice did. "Thank ya, Belinda.

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Thank ya, everyone. I do believe this is the nicest birthday I ever had."

Clare began to laugh. "Ma," he said, "seems to me ya say thet every year."

"An' every year I mean it, too," insisted Marty.

Then all eyes turned to Clark. The family knew well the tradition of Clark presenting the final birthday gift.

"My turn, is it?" said Clark, rising to his feet.

Clark's hands were empty.

"Well, this year," he said slowly, "I have nothin' to give." He hesitated. All eyes were on his face. No one spoke. Clark cleared his throat. None of his children believed for a minute that he had nothing to present to Marty.

"Leastways," he continued, "nothing here at hand. My gift is outside. In the garden. Anyone who wants to see it has to follow me out there."

No one remained behind. Clark led the way, taking Marty by the hand and leading her to the end of the garden. All the other family members trailed along behind, several of them making guesses as to what the gift might be. Marty heard the laughing and the teasing voices all around her, but her mind was busy trying to guess, too, what Clark had gotten for her.

"There it is," Clark said, halting before a small, waist-high tree. It was not magnificent in appearance, but Marty knew it must be "special." She reached out a hand and turned the tag that hung from a small branch, fluttering in the soft evening breezes.

"Jonathan Apple," she read aloud and then, with a little cry she threw her arms around Clark's neck. "Oh, Clark, where did ya find it? Where did ya get it from? I been a wantin' one but no one round here--"

"I sent away fer it," said Clark as he held her. "Sneaked it in here an' planted it yesterday. Was scared
half
to death thet you'd catch me at it."

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Marty looked around at her family. She reached out to try to pull all three of the young girls into her arms at one time. Each one of her gifts was so personal, so special. Her family knew her well. Her family showered her with love. She felt blessed beyond expression. Her eyes brimmed over with tears.

"Go ahead," she challenged them with a smile, "laugh iffen ya want to, but this truly--truly has been my best birthday ever!"

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TWENTY-FOUR

A Caller

All through the spring and summer Drew struggled with his bitterness. Why had he lost his arm? If there was a God who cared about him, why had it been allowed to happen? Why hadn't the doctor just let him die? He would rather be dead. At least he
thought
he'd rather be dead. Yet, at times, even Drew breathed deeply of the fresh spring air or exulted over the brightness of the summer sky, or tilted his head to catch the song of a bird.

Almost daily he thought of Belinda. And always his thoughts were troubled. He did not know how to sort out his feelings toward the young girl. Why was she so interested in nursing? How could she stand to see her brother cut people up? Didn't she have any kind of feeling? At the same time that he questioned her interest in nursing, he admired her in a strange sort of way. He was quite sure he wouldn't have been able to face some of the situations that Belinda did.

How does she do it? WHY does she do it?
The whole thing puzzled him. He couldn't understand her. He couldn't understand this whole strange family. And Drew certainly could not understand his inner conflict.

In some way, Drew took pleasure in his self-pity. And yet there was something else that kept fighting to be free of the bitterness. He seemed to be at war with himself. He wondered why he didn't just give in to his bitter feelings.