Love's unfolding dream (Love Comes Softly Series #6) (25 page)

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"So you two finally met?" she commented. "Seems it's accidents thet bring ya together."

The boy looked puzzled.

"Guess Belinda will have plenty of tales to tell in comin' years 'bout her nursin' experiences," Marty went on with a little chuckle. "Thet's where she was tonight, too--when this happened--helpin' Luke. But I guess ya knew all 'bout thet. Tonight's was a burn case."

The boy turned to Belinda, his dark eyes wide . . . questioning. This . . .
this
was the girl he had been told was there when they took his arm?

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TWENTY-TWO
Introductions

Belinda, having recognized the boy immediately, had assumed he knew who she was, as well. But of course he would not have known who she was. He had been unconscious the whole time she was with him after his accident.

Belinda noticed shadows darkening the boy's eyes. She saw the questioning look on his face. His lips parted as though he was going to say something, and then they closed tightly and he turned away.

He did not bolt, though she feared for a moment that he might. The knuckles on the hand that gripped the edge of the table were white. His face was even paler than it had been when he had bent over her in the road. She wanted to say something-- anything, but didn't know what it would be.

Clark's appearance helped to break the tension. Understandably having no idea of the undercurrent in the room, he hung up his coat and hat on the proper pegs and walked toward the table.

"Sure can tell thet summer is 'most here," he said in a good neighborly fashion. "The days are gittin' to where they're worth somethin' again, an' the air is actually warm. Be mighty glad to see warmer weather, too. I've had 'nough winter fer a while."

There was no comment from the two seated at the table. Marty brought thick sandwiches and milk for each of them. Belinda looked carefully across at the boy. Would he refuse it? She

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was afraid he might. But no, he mumbled a polite thank-you and began to eat the sandwich.

"How's yer pa doin' on his loggin'?" Clark asked the boy. His eyes lifted from his plate and met Clark's. "Fine," he replied but said no more than that.

"It's nice havin' yer ma comin' to sew most days," put in Marty. "I enjoy her company."

The boy nodded.

Clark pulled up a chair and joined them at the table. Belinda said nothing. Inside she felt a deep ache. She couldn't explain it-- she just knew that she felt something, an emotional pain, much more keenly than she felt her aches and bruises from the fall.

Something was terribly wrong. She had hoped the Simpson boy had adjusted to his arm being gone, had learned how to go on without it, had understood those who had been forced to take it to spare his life. But from the dark shadows in his eyes and the frown on his countenance, she knew it wasn't so.

Does he still hold the surgery against Luke?
Belinda wondered.
Perhaps he does--but
her mother was talking. From the looks directed her way, Belinda knew the question must have been directed to her.

"Beggin' pardon," she responded and shook her head slightly. "Yer not hurt, are ya?" asked Marty, coming forward to touch the girl's forehead.

"No, no, I'm fine--really," Belinda quickly answered.

For just a moment Belinda saw concern in the boy's eyes

again, and then it was gone and the darkness returned.

"I'm fine," Belinda insisted again, "I jest wasn't listenin'. Was

thinkin'--thet's all."

"I asked about the little girl. How is she?"

"Mandie?"

"Is thet her name?"

"Mandie. Mandie . . ." Suddenly Belinda could not remember

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the family's last name. Near panic seized her. Was there actually something wrong? Had she hit her head? And then it came to her. "It's Willis," she said with confidence and relief. "Mandie Willis."

Marty looked at her quizzically and Belinda hurried on. "She's . . . she's. . ." She wanted to say that the little girl was just fine, but in honesty said instead, "She's burned real bad. Luke is worried 'bout infection. We have to go back on Thursday"

Marty frowned in concern. "Terrible thing, those burns," she said. "'Specially fer a little child."

Belinda nodded.

"Ya've hardly eaten a thing," Marty scolded. "Ya missed yer supper an' now--"

"I'm jest not hungry" said Belinda and pushed the plate away from her.

"But ya need--" began Marty and was interrupted by Clark. "Might be better fer her stomach if she don't put nothin' in it fer the present."

Marty removed the plate.

"So what did ya do?" she asked Belinda.

Belinda looked at her, not understanding.

"How did ya help yer brother?"

"Oh! I . . . I held Mandy . . . while Luke took off the old bandage an' . . . then I . . . I watched her after she was put to sleep, to see thet . . . thet . . . she was okay an' . . . an' everythin'."

All the time they had been talking Belinda could feel the eyes of the boy on her face. She couldn't read the expression in his eyes, but she really did not want to know. Did he hate her for her part in his tragic surgery? She wished she could go to her room. That he would go home.

"I think thet's enough medicine talk," Clark said, and Belinda sighed in agreement.

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Clark's hand slowly, unconsciously, moved down to rub his injured leg. Though he was not aware of his action, the boy noticed it.
How much does his leg still hurt him?
he wondered. Did it still shoot fire up the limb, making it seem like it was still there and badly damaged? Did the pain never quit? "Phantom pains," they called it. Well, phantom or not, the pains were very real. The boy winced just thinking about it.

"Don't believe I've been told yer name," Clark was saying. "We never were introduced proper like. I'm Clark Davis, this is my wife Marty and my youngest girl, Belinda. But then, ya already know her."

He didn't. He hadn't. Not really.

The boy mumbled his acknowledgment to the introductions. When Belinda was presented, his eyes met hers for a moment, but the distance was still there.

"An' yer name," Clark prompted. "Drew Drew Simpson. Andrew really, but everyone calls me Drew"

Belinda repeated the name mentally
Drew.
It suited him somehow

"Well, Drew, we're right glad to make yer acquaintance. An' we are thankful to ya fer carin' fer our Belinda."

"It was my fault--"

"Nobody's fault," Clark stopped him. "Thet fool horse always was bad fer spookin'. Don't know how to go about gittin"im over being' gun-shy. He's always been thet way. Well, we'll jest watch 'im a little more closely, thet's all."

Drew had finished his milk and sandwich. Marty offered him some crumb cake, but he politely turned it down.

"I've got to get home before my folks get to worrying about me," he said and reached for his cap. "Didn't realize how late it's getting."

Both Clark and Marty thanked him again. They invited him

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to return anytime in the future. Drew did not say whether he would accept their invitation. For just a moment his shadowed eyes met Belinda's and then he turned away. She wanted to say something. To thank him for his kindness, but she choked on all of her intended words.

And then he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him. Marty was speaking as she cleared away his dishes, "He seems like an awful nice young boy. I do hope he ain't harborin' any bitterness over his arm."

Belinda excused herself. She wanted the privacy of her own room.

Spring almost too quickly was overtaken by summer, and after school was over, Belinda busied herself with accompanying Luke on more house calls. Mandie's burned arm gave them a real scare. Luke even worried at one point that she, too, might lose it. But he fought--my, how he did fight--and the arm finally began to heal. It would always bear ugly scars, but she still had the use of it.

Belinda did not see Drew again, though she frequently wondered about the boy. Was he still harboring his grief? She did not know. They did see his mother--almost every day, in fact. She still came to sew. Over the days and weeks Marty had seen the woman's eyes go from despair, to acceptance, to hope, to renewed faith in life. True, the family was still in difficult circumstances, but they were on their way to independence. Well, they had always been independent enough, but now it looked like they might one day be able to take what they considered to be their proper place in the community.

The woman now wore a new dress, one she had made for herself. She even walked straighter with more confidence now that she was no longer wearing the many-times-mended garment.

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There were even moments of brief conversation between her and Marty as they took little breaks for tea and discussed weather, gardens, or neighborhood events.

Marty learned that Mrs. Simpson's two sons had never been to school--not for a single day of their lives. And yet both of the parents put great stock in education and had taught the boys everything they could, bringing home extra books to help them keep up with other youngsters their age. Mr. Simpson himself had been a college graduate, Marty discovered to her great surprise. And Mrs. Simpson had at one time tutored special English classes to immigrant families. Marty understood a bit more about the pride that kept them from "accepting charity."

But though Belinda saw Mrs. Simpson often, she did not ask about Drew Not that she did not care. It was just that she feared to ask the question because the answer might not be the one she wanted to hear.

Jackson still hung about--"a hard one to avoid," Belinda told her mother ruefully. Even though school was out for the summer, Belinda saw him each Sunday at church, and he always lingered about, looking for some opportunity to serve her or suggesting some outing they might enjoy together. Belinda tried to be kind and firm, but Jackson did not seem too good at taking hints.

Melissa still sighed with longing for Jackson to take notice of her. There were other boys who would have gladly showered Melissa with their attention, but she ignored them completely.

How foolish we are,
thought Marty as she watched silently from the sidelines.
Each wantin' exactly what one can't have.

When fall came, Jackson packed his bags and went off to school in the city. He'd been counting on an intimate chat with Belinda to ask her if she would wait for him, but he could never get an opportunity. Belinda was always busy. He never saw a girl

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so taken with her work. So Jackson went off to college with a heart slightly heavier than his steamer trunk. A year was a long time to be away, and Belinda was growing up awfully fast. His only hope was that her nursing would keep her so busy she wouldn't notice the other boys who hovered around.

The school year began with Marty dreading the thought that this would be the last one at the local school for both Belinda and Melissa. But as she watched them go off together, she was pleased that they were chattering and enjoying each other's company
It should be an easier year for all of them,
Marty thought with relief,
having Jackson a good two hundred miles away!
Marty sighed and shook her head.
Poor Jackson!
She did feel sorry for him. He was a fine young man.

Well, the girls were still young. There would be lots of time for beaus. She could just imagine Missie praying that Melissa would meet no fellow of special interest while she was back east going to school. Missie would not be any more anxious to lose her Melissa to the East than Marty had been to lose her Missie to the West.

Marty sighed again and turned from the window. She was afraid the year ahead was going to pass all too quickly

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TWENTY-THREE

Birthday Party

The team moved at a brisk trot, faster than usual, Marty felt, as she cast a quick glance Clark's way. But she did not question him. He urged the horses on, not holding them back as he normally did when they were homeward bound on a beautiful June day. Marty turned in an attempt to enjoy the wild roses that lined the roadside. Their fragrance reached out to her as the light wagon hurried on by. They truly were pretty, but Marty found that her thoughts were on other things.

Strange,
mused Marty to herself without making any comment aloud. Still, the whole thing did seem unusual.

Marty was very aware that today was her birthday--and though Clark had given no signals to indicate that he remembered, she was sure he had not forgotten. Clark had never forgotten her birthday in all the years of their marriage. Yet, birthday or not, he had seemed awfully anxious to hustle her away from the house, and his excuse of "Ma Graham needin' some cheerin' up" now seemed a tad flimsy

Marty had agreed to accompany Clark to the Grahams', expecting to find a lonely and somber Ma, but she had been her usual cheerful self, serving Marty tea and fresh strawberry shortcake and bringing her up-to-date about all the new achievements of her many grandchildren.

Clark had left Marty to visit and went on to town. Marty was