Love takes wing (Love Comes Softly #7) (19 page)

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Luke looked surprised. "Forgive? I have nothing to forgive him for. No . . . I . . . I am going to beg my brother to forgive me," said Luke soberly, and the tears began to fill his eyes.

"But . . . but I don't understand," said Marty "Arnie was angry with you. . ."

"And for good reason," Luke explained. "I had no business to be butting into Arnie's life, assuming I knew what was best for his son, demanding he see things my way." By the time Luke had finished his speech, tears were coursing down his cheeks. "I didn't mean to be arrogant . . . and . . . and self-righteous, but I was. I just hope and pray that Arnie can find it in his heart to forgive

me.,

Marty looked at Clark. His eyes were also filled with tears. He reached out and took the slender, strong hand of his doctor son and squeezed it gently. She could tell he was unable to express his thoughts because of his deep emotions.

Marty wiped at her eyes and blew her nose. When she could speak again she took Luke's other hand. "We'll be prayin'," she said. "Yer pa an' me'll be prayin' the whole time it takes ya to talk to yer brother."

But Clark had found his voice. "I think we should start now" he stated simply, and after they had bowed their heads together, Clark led the little group in prayer.

Luke and Arnie each talked about the incident later from his own perspective. Both said that the meeting of brother with brother was the most emotional thing they had ever been through. After Luke's initial confession and plea for Arnie to forgive him for his arrogance and interference, Luke suggested they pray together. At first Arnie was guarded and defensive, but as Luke began to pray, Arnie, too, was touched with his need to restore his relationships--first of all with his God, and then with

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his family. Soon he, too, was crying out to God in repentance and contrition.

They wept and prayed together, arms around each other's shoulders. By the time they had sobbed it all out to God and to each other, they both felt spent but, at the same time, refreshed. Nothing was said about young Abe. Luke knew it was not his decision, and Arnie knew he would need to deal with the matter soon and honestly.

Arnie did not put off the matter of Abe's arm for very long. In his head he realized that already too much time had passed since the accident, and he recognized and admitted to himself that the arm was continually worsening. After talking it over with Anne, he called Abe to the kitchen where he and Anne sat at the family table.

Arnie swallowed hard. It was not easy for him to speak honestly with his son about a matter that was so painful and had caused so much heartache.

"Yer uncle Luke has been to see us," he began. When he hesitated, Abe looked from his father to his mother with some fear in his eyes. With effort, Arnie hurried on. "He . . . he's . . . he's concerned 'bout yer arm."

Abe let his glance fall to the offending limb, but his gaze did not linger. Arnie noticed that the boy drew the arm closer to his side.

"Fact is . . . fact is. . ." Arnie found it hard to keep the tears from his eyes and voice. "We've known fer some time thet the arm wasn't healin' right. Luke tried to tell me . . . but I wouldn't listen." Arnie paused to clear his throat and then said, "Luke told me at the time thet ya needed surgery to . . . to right the arm. . . butI. . . I . . ."

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But Abe stopped him, his eyes wide with amazement. "They can do thet?"

Arnie looked at the boy, not sure what he was asking.

"Can they, Pa?" Abe repeated. He let his eyes return to the crooked arm, locked into its constant position. "Can they right the arm?"

Arnie nodded slowly, blinking back the tears. "Luke says they can," he said honestly. Then seeing the light suddenly come to the eyes of his son, he hastened on, "Oh, maybe not . . . not perfectly . . . but at least . . . at least they can help it a good deal. . . straighten it some and strengthen it some an' . . . an' give it some movement."

But Abe obviously was not hearing his pa's words of caution. He was hearing words of hope. His eyes were bright with joy as he turned back to Arnie.

"When?" was all he asked.

Anne finally spoke, brushing away tears that lay on her cheeks and reaching to put an arm around her son. "Abe," she said slowly, softly, "I. . . I don't think ya understand. It's not gonna be thet easy to fix. Ya don't jest walk in the doctor's office an' have him . . . do . . . do yer arm. It means a trip to the city. . . examinations, decisions . . . then iffen the city doctors think it will work out okay . . . then they . . . they need to operate . . . to break the arm again . . . an' then try to set it . . . mend it better."

"But . . . but . . ." Abe faltered, his eyes mirroring new despair. "But ya said, Pa, thet it would help some . . . thet Uncle Luke said. . ."

Arnie nodded solemnly.

"Then . . . then. . . ?" But Abe stopped. His eyes misted for the first time. Arnie felt that his son now understood about the pain involved with the surgery

But when Abe spoke, the pain was not mentioned. "It costs a lot, huh?"

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The simple words cut Arnie to the quick. "No," he said quickly, shaking his head and starting to his feet. "No, son, thet's not the reason. We . . . we. . ." But Arnie could not go on, and again Anne took over, reaching for Arnie's hand as she spoke to Abe.

"It was yer pain we feared--not the cost. We . . . we didn't want ya to suffer no more . . . yer pa an' me. We . .. we hoped the arm would git steadily better on its own, but . . . but . . . we think now thet it won't, not by itself" She stopped and, still clasping Arnie's hand, reached out her other hand to Abe.

"So . . . so," she went on hesitantly, "I guess it's really yer decision. Now . . . now thet ya know about . . . about the . . . the surgery . . . the healing again . . . what do you think we should do?"

Abe did not hurry with his answer. He looked steadily from one parent to the other. Then he looked down at his disabled limb. He swallowed hard and licked dry lips.

"Iffen ya don't mind. . . iffen it won't be. . . be. . . too much cost, then I'd like to try it. . . the surgery Even iffen it jest makes it a little bit better, it would be . . . be good."

The words brought a flood of tears to Arnie. He reached out and drew Abe to him, burying his face against the leanness of the young body. Abe seemed confused by his father's response, but even in his youth he knew Arnie needed him. Needed his love and his support.

"It's okay, Pa," he mumbled, his arms wrapped firmly around Arnie's neck. "It's okay. It won't hurt thet much."

"Don't ya see? Don't ya see?" sobbed Arnie. "We shoulda had it done first off. Luke tried to tell me. . . but I wouldn't listen. It woulda worked better. . ."

Abe pulled back far enough to look into his father's eyes. "Is thet what's been troublin' ya?" he asked candidly.

Arnie only nodded. Abe moved to place his arm securely

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around his father's neck again. "Oh, Pa," he said with tears in his eyes. "We've been so scared . . . so scared . . . all of us kids. We feared ya had some awful sickness an' might die . . . an' here . . . here it was jest my silly ol' arm. It's okay, Pa!" The young boy patted his father's shoulder. "An' ya know what? Iffen ya'd asked me way back then 'bout breakin' my arm all over agin, I'da prob'ly been scared ta death an' . . . an' run off in the woods hopin' it'd heal by itself Now we all know thet ain't gonna happen," he finished matter-of-factly. "I know ya love me. The pain . . . it . . . it won't be too bad," he reassured them.

Father and son held each other close, and Anne breathed a prayer to God as she wiped her tears. There was much ahead for all of them--for there would be surgery to be faced just as soon as Luke could make the arrangements.

Arnie went to see Luke the next morning, but on the way he stopped to ask forgiveness of Clare and to beg Clark and Marty to forgive him for all the suffering he had caused them in his bitterness. He pleaded to be restored to his old relationship within the family circle, and with tears of joy and prayers of thanksgiving he was drawn back into their loving arms.

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NINETEEN

Boston

"Are ya comfortable?" Belinda asked Mrs. Stafford-Smyth. They were settled on the eastbound train for Boston after an emotional and teary good-bye at the station. Most of Belinda's family had been there to see her off. She was glad that neither Rand nor Jackson had appeared, although she had received messages from each of them the night before her departure.

May your trip to
Boston be smooth,
uneventful--and hasty,
said Jackson's light little note tucked into a basket of forget-me-nots. Belinda had not been able to hide her smile.

Rand's message had been more direct.
Sorry for any misunderstanding,
it read.
Whenever you are ready to come back, I'll be here.
Rand. This note came with a small packet of house plans, and etched in a corner in Rand's script was the terse comment,
Study at leisure.

Poor
Rand, mused Belinda. It seemed he was refusing to give

up.

But now all of that was behind her. She leaned back against the velvet seat of the Pullman and tried to gather her thoughts into some kind of order.

I'm actually on my way--to
Boston! Imagine! She had made the decision, arranged for her absence from her work, checked with her family, planned the departure, and sent word to her new employer's home in Boston.
I guess I'm really grown-up now!
she

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joked inwardly. She was on her own, bound for a city hundreds of miles from home--and with indefinite plans as to the length of her stay.

Marty had shed some tears, of course. Belinda had expected it. She was Marty's baby--the last of the children to go. Belinda knew it would be hard for her ma and pa, but she was so thankful the clash between Arnie and the other family members had been healed before she left. Again she said a quick prayer of thanks to God. That morning at the station her mother had looked years younger and much more relaxed, even though she was bidding her youngest a tearful good-bye.

Belinda took a few moments to worry about the office. Would Flo really be able to take over all the tasks that had been Belinda's for so long? Would she be skilled enough to assist with the simple surgeries that were done in the little surgical room? Of course, now that Jackson was there, he would be able to assist Luke -or Luke assist Jackson, whichever way it went. Belinda, happy for that fact, was able to dismiss the office from her mind.

Next, Belinda considered her nieces and nephews. They grew so quickly. If she stayed away for any extended period of time, they would grow up without her. She pictured rambunctious Dack. It seemed like such a short time ago that he was a boisterous, sometimes in-the-way little preschooler, and now he was playing boyish games and doing lessons. Even Luke's three little ones were growing up so rapidly. Belinda found it hard to believe that Ruthie was already toddling about and saying words that might not be understood but seemed to mean something to the pint-sized chatterer.

What will they be like when I get back home?
she wondered.
They change so quickly.

Then Belinda remembered Melissa and Amy Jo. Word had just arrived that Melissa was the mother of a baby boy, Clark Thomas, and that Amy Jo would have her turn at motherhood

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some time in November. It seemed unreal to Belinda. She thought again of Rand's angry words. He was right, Belinda admitted.
Most girls--women--do know their own minds by the time they're my age.

For a minute Belinda's face grew warm with the memory, and then she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and assured herself,
And I do know my own mind, too. I knew then and I know now that I'm not ready to marry either Rand O'Connel or Jackson Brown. It would be wrong, wrong, wrong for me to do so.

Feeling better with that matter settled, Belinda turned her eyes back to her patient. "Would ya like another pillow?" she asked solicitously.

"Stop fussing so," scolded Mrs. Stafford-Smyth goodnaturedly. "If I want something, I will let it be known. This is your first trip. Enjoy it. Look theah--out the window. See that sleepy little town? The whole country is filled with one aftah the othah. I wondah how folks can tell them apart." She smiled. "Wondah just how many people get off at the wrong stop," she mused on, "thinking that they have arrived home."

Belinda smiled. But she was sure that no homecoming included such a problem. She realized Mrs. Stafford-Smyth saw even Belinda's little town as one of tiny duplicate beads of a necklace stretching all across the great continent. Yet, if she, Belinda, were heading home, she knew no other town would look the same to her as her own town would.

She decided to check with her patient one more time. "Ya promise ya'll ask if ya wish something?"

"I promise," laughed the woman.

Belinda shifted some hand luggage so she could move closer to the window.

"In that case," she said lightly, "I will be glad to accept yer invitation and enjoy the scenery. I've never traveled quite this far from home before," and Belinda settled down to follow the