The Bluebird and the Sparrow (22 page)

———

“I think I’d like some time off,” Berta said to Mayor Henderson just as the neighborhood reapers moved into the harvest fields.

He nodded in agreement.

“You’ve done a great job,” he complimented her. “Folks are saying the new library is even better than the old.”

Berta nodded but felt like dropping with weariness.

“Will Miss Saunders be able to look out for things while you’re gone?” asked Mayor Henderson.

“I think so,” replied Berta, pleased with the young girl’s quickness in learning the library procedures.

“Then you just go ahead and catch yourself a breath,” the mayor said jovially. “Take off the whole week if you’ve a mind to.”

Berta looked at the man. A whole week. Did he think he was being generous? Berta was sure she could use a month to get herself rested. She nodded her head. “I think I’ll do that, sir,” she replied evenly. “The whole week.”

Berta walked back to the library to make her plans with Miss Saunders. The girl seemed excited at the idea of being in charge.

Just as Berta left the building she turned back and glanced over the entire room. It did look nice. Though she was nearly worn out, she had a real sense of accomplishment.

She turned back to the young woman behind the desk. “Don’t forget to lock the door,” she heard herself saying.

Chapter Twenty-one

Illness

For the first two days of her well-earned vacation Berta did nothing but rest and take walks along the creek paths. On the third day she decided she felt rested enough to visit her mother. Thomas was not free to take her in his car, but Berta did not regret that. She decided to walk over to the livery and have the mare hitched up for the trip out of town. It had been some time since she had taken the mare and buggy out.

She was looking forward to a drive in the quiet countryside. It would be as good as a nap in restoring her.

“She needs a run,” commented the stable hand as he hitched the horse. “It’s been a long time. We do see she gets exercise in the pasture, but that’s not the same as going for a drive.”

Berta nodded and picked up the reins. She clucked to the mare and they were off.

Berta breathed deeply of the clear fall air and noticed each clump of fall flowers and each bird on the wing.

Autumn,
she said to herself.
My favorite time of year.

Her mind went back to the spontaneous picnic that she and Thomas had shared the year before. It had been pleasant. They’d had little time to enjoy each other’s company the past months while Berta had been so busy with the library.

Well—maybe things will settle to a more normal pace now,
she thought to herself and hastened the mare on down the road. She was looking forward to the day with her mother.

When she greeted her mother, the woman looked about the same as when Berta had last seen her. She was still busy with knitting and crocheting. But little half-finished projects were scattered from chair to chair or table to table. Berta thought that it seemed a bit strange. Her mother had always been one to finish up one project before starting another.

I guess it has something to do with age,
mused Berta, moving a partly knitted sock onto a nearby table so she might sit in the chair.

“How’ve you been, Mama?” she asked.

“Fine. Just fine,” the woman replied.

“I notice you have several things in the works,” continued Berta.

Mrs. Berdette chuckled softly. “I guess I must get bored staying with one thing too long,” she said.

Berta nodded. “So what are you making here?” she asked, lifting the handwork she had just moved.

Mrs. Berdette frowned. “Let me see it,” she asked and accepted the piece of unfinished knitting.

“I don’t know what this is,” she puzzled, then went on, “It’s not mine. It must belong to someone else.”

“But you’re the only one here,” Berta reminded her.

The woman looked more puzzled. “That’s right,” she said at last. “I live alone now.”

Berta was troubled by the conversation, but she did not press her mother further.

“How’s your young man?” her mother asked.

“Who?” asked Berta in surprise.

“Your young man? What’s his name again? That fellow with the car?”

“You mean Thomas?”

“Thomas. That’s right. His name slipped my mind for a minute there.”

“Mama—he is not my young man,” said Berta firmly.

Her mother looked up quickly from the potholder she was working on.

“He’s not? What happened?”

“Nothing happened. He is—he has never been my young man. He is just a friend.”

“That’s too bad,” said her mother shaking her head. “He seemed like such a fine young man.”

“And he’s not young,” Berta added. “We’re both past thirty.”

Mrs. Berdette looked surprised. “You? Thirty? My—where has the time gone?” She sighed deeply.

“I know,” said Berta dryly, “it seems only yesterday.”

“What seems like yesterday, dear?” asked Mrs. Berdette.

“Nothing,” replied Berta. “I just thought you were going to give your little speech.”

Mrs. Berdette smiled. “You and your older sister—”

“I’m the older sister,” Berta corrected her. “Remember. I’m Berta. Three years older than Glenna. Remember?”

Mrs. Berdette stopped her needles. She seemed to be puzzling over something. At last she spoke. “You’re the oldest. That’s right. You’re Berta. The younger one is Glenna. That’s right.”

Berta made no further comment, but her mother’s strange words and actions troubled her. She would speak to Parker about it as soon as possible.

———

“Have you been to see Mama lately?” Berta asked Glenna that evening.

“Not since the weekend,” said Glenna.

“How did she seem to you?”

“About the same. Why?”

“I was out there today,” Berta answered, “and she acted—really confused. Forgetful. I want to speak to Parker about it.”

Glenna looked concerned. “He’s out on a call right now. I’ve no idea when he will be home. Do you think we should be worried—about Mama?”

“I don’t know. She seemed fine—at times—and then she would say and do strange things.”

“Well, she is getting older.”

“No.” Berta shook her head. “I think it is more than that. She didn’t even remember which of us is the older.”

Glenna frowned. “That is strange,” she said.

“And she has these little work projects scattered all over the house. She couldn’t even remember starting one of them.”

Glenna looked more worried.

A sound from a bedroom interrupted them. Glenna left her chair and moved quickly toward the door. “The girls both have bad coughs,” she explained as she hurried from the room.

Their father is a doctor, for land’s sake,
thought Berta sourly.
Doesn’ t he even have time to tend his own children?

Glenna was soon back again. Berta noticed her slow movement as she lowered herself into a chair.

“You sick?” asked Berta sharply.

“Me? No. Why?”

“You look a bit pale.”

“I haven’t been feeling too good since—”

“I thought you said you weren’t sick,” cut in Berta.

“I’m not—sick,” replied Glenna.

They sat and looked at each other. “You’re pregnant again!” exclaimed Berta.

Glenna nodded.

“My word! Why do you keep having Parker’s babies when he never stays home long enough to help you look after them? You’re going to wear yourself out.”

Glenna said nothing, but Berta saw the hurt in her eyes.

“Berta,” said Glenna softly. “What’s really bothering you? You’ve been agitated ever since you walked into the house.”

“I’m not—” began Berta, and then she stopped. It was true. She was ready to jump on anyone. She rose from her chair and crossed over to the fire. But she did not apologize to Glenna. She did not know how to apologize to her younger sister.

She stood staring down at the flames and at last turned to face Glenna.

“Mama worries me,” she stated flatly. “I had thought Parker would be here. I wanted to talk with him. I hoped he would drive out to the farm and check things out. I don’t even like to think of Mama alone out there when we don’t know what’s going on. What if she’s had a little stroke—or something? What if she does something really foolish? We have no idea what—”

“I will speak to Parker as soon as he comes in,” said Glenna.

“Well—if you want my opinion, he’s gone far too often,” stated Berta. “You look about—”

“Berta, listen to me. Parker has provided me with help for the house and help with the children. Parker is a good husband and a great father—in spite of his extremely busy schedule. Please—please don’t say unkind things about him.”

“Well, you need all the help you can get. You are on every committee and fund-raiser in the city. ‘Mrs. Parker Oliver chairs this, organizes that.’ It’s no wonder you look wan. You’re always on the front pages for something—always on the run.”

Glenna sighed. “It
is
too much—and sometimes—often—I do tire of it,” she admitted. “I know that the—hospital—the city—expects me to—represent many causes. I do get tired of it. But—that’s what life is about. Doing what you can—for others.”

“Pawsh!” exclaimed Berta. “I think you like to see your own pretty face in print.”

It had been years since Berta had spoken so cruelly to Glenna. Both women stared at each other, surprised at the outburst.

“I need to get home,” said Berta, gathering her gloves. “I’ve had a hard day. A hard year, to be exact. I’m exhausted.”

Glenna’s expression acknowledged Berta’s offhanded apology. “I’ll tell Parker about Mama as soon as he comes in,” she promised quietly.

A child coughed from the bedroom again, and Glenna turned to attend to her. “We’ll check on Mama just as soon as we can,” she called back over her shoulder.

Berta let herself out. She felt weary. Dejected. Defeated. She had thought she had grown. She had hoped that she had learned many truths from Pastor Talbot’s sermons over the months. And now, given a bit of pressure, she had discovered that her old self was lurking just below the surface. She hadn’t really changed. She was still simply a product of her past, of her circumstances.

———

When Parker drove out to the farm that night and checked on Mrs. Berdette, she had already retired for the night. Parker told Berta the next morning that he’d had a hard time explaining to his mother-in-law why he was calling on her at such a late hour.

“She is muddled,” he admitted. “I’m not sure at this point just why—but she is confused.”

“What can we do?” asked Berta. “She shouldn’t be left alone, should she?”

“It would be better if she had someone with her,” Parker agreed.

“She is so—set,” Berta said. “I’ve tried and tried to get her to move in with me.”

“On the other hand,” went on Parker, “a move to new surroundings might only confuse her more. At least she knows her whereabouts at present.”

Berta’s agitation pressed in upon her. She decided to hitch the mare and head for the farm again.

“Some week of relaxation this is turning out to be,” she grumbled to herself as she pressed the mare to quicken her pace.

Mrs. Berdette was watering the garden flowers when Berta arrived. Frost had already stolen their blooms, and they obviously were withered and lifeless. Berta felt despair as she observed her mother’s actions.

“What are you doing, Mama?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“They must be dry,” her mother responded. “They’re brown. See?”

“Mama, the frost has already killed them. They’re gone for this year,” argued Berta and attempted to move her mother back into the house.

“Wait,” said the woman. “I didn’t get that one yet.”

“It’s okay, Mama. I’ll care for them later,” Berta assured her and insisted that her mother return to the kitchen.

Once they were back in the house, her mother brightened. She seemed almost normal for the rest of the morning. Berta began to feel some relief.

“I hear Parker got you out of bed last night,” Berta observed.

“Who?”

“Parker.”

Mrs. Berdette frowned.

“Glenna’s Parker.”

“Oh yes. Parker. My, he was out late last night. Was he lost?”

“No, Mama. He just wanted to be sure that you were all right.”

Mrs. Berdette smiled. “Isn’t that sweet,” she said. “Just like Glenna. She must have told him to stop by.”

“Mama,” said Berta. “I want you to come into town with me.”

“A visit would be nice,” said Mrs. Berdette. “I’ll get my hat. Is it chilly enough for a shawl?”

“Not for a visit, Mama. I want you to come and live with me.”

The woman stopped midstride. “Oh, I couldn’t do that, dear,” she said quickly. “Someone has to take care of the team.”

“Mama, we don’t have a team anymore,” argued Berta.

The woman looked confused. “We don’t What happened to them?”

Berta gave up. It was clear that her mother could not be left alone.

“Mama, I’m going to go pack some things for you, and then I’m taking you home with me,” she announced. She was going to accept no excuses.

“That’s nice, dear,” said Mrs. Berdette. “You were always my helper. I always depended on you. For everything. ‘Berta is my dependable one,’ I used to say.”

Berta stopped in her tracks. “Then why did you always favor Glenna?” she asked sharply.

“Glenna,” said her mother. “Oh my. I didn’t favor Glenna.”

“You did,” argued Berta. “You always treated us—differently.”

“Of course,” said her mother in agreement. “I had to. You were different.”

“But—”

“What would you have had me do? Put Glenna in straight skirts? Crop off her hair? Or insist that you wear ribbons and bows? You both were different. It wouldn’t have been fair to make either one of you a copy of the other. Would it?”

Berta had nothing more to say. She went to pack a suitcase.

———

It had seemed like a good idea to take her mother into town, but it turned out to be far more difficult to manage than Berta had anticipated.

She had to go back to work. Her mother could not be left alone while she was off for the day at the library. She could not take her mother with her to the library. Nor was she successful in finding someone to stay with her mother at the house. In the end, Glenna took their mother in to be with her family. Berta knew it was a hardship for the busy Glenna. But there seemed little she could do about it.