Love's Abiding Joy (Love Comes Softly #4)(10)

Marty had packed them on the very bottom of the suitcase. Carefully now she lifted each item from the case, going down on her knees on the floor to lay things out all around her. When she remembered the hours she had spent carefully packing each item of her clothing, she could have cried. Would she ever get them so neatly arranged again? Many of the gowns she had folded in thin tissue wrap supplied by the dress shops in which she had made her purchases. And now, as she lifted them out, no matter how hard she tried to be careful, she disturbed the garments and wrinkled the tissue. Yet she had to know--she had to know if her few items of precious jewelry had been stolen along with Clark's watch. Clark would be so disappointed! His three sons had gone together to purchase the gift for his last birthday, and he had proudly worn the watch chain across his chest.

Marty stopped suddenly in the middle of her search. Perhaps she shouldn't be wasting precious time now. Perhaps she should run down to the front desk and report the loss. Maybe there was a chance to still catch the thief. No, first she must know how many missing things to report. So Marty continued unpacking her case, item by item, laying each one around her



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in one of the neat piles on the deep blues, golds, wines and scarlets of the carpeted floor.

Marty was almost to the last item when Clark roused from sleep, stirred himself and lifted his head. At first he thought that he must be seeing things. He had seen Marty carefully pack her suitcase in just such a manner only a few short days ago. Was she really packing again? Clark shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs of the night. Marty remained as before, lifting each item--and she was taking them out of the case!

"Ya repackin'?" Clark asked mildly, and Marty jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Oh, Clark!" she cried. "I'm so glad thet yer finally awake. We've had us thieves in the night." Marty's hands hurried on, emptying the last few items from her case.

"Thieves?"

"Thieves!"

"What ya meanin', thieves?"

But Marty interrupted him with a glad cry. "Oh, they're still here! Oh, I'm so glad, so glad."

Clark was out of bed by then, looking down on his wife who clasped her precious jewelry to her bosom.

"Look!" she cried. "They didn't find 'em."

"Who find what? I'm not a-followin'--"

"The thieves--the thieves who stole yer watch. Oh, Clark, I'm so sorry. I know how much ya loved thet watch an'--"

"Ya meanin' this watch?" Clark asked, lifting it from the small table by the bed.

Marty gasped.

"Ya found it."

"Found it? I never lost it. I put it there by my bed so's I could check the time in the mornin'."

"Oh, Clark. I checked in yer pockets fer it, an' when I couldn't find it I thought thet someone had--"

But Clark had started to laugh. He pointed at Marty and at the empty case and the heaped-up clothing and held his sides as he laughed uproariously.

At first his outburst miffed Marty, not as yet over her concern and fear during the trying ordeal of the last several



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minutes. Then she looked about her at the mess that she had created and the watch held dangling from its chain in Clark's hand, and the humor of the situation struck her also; she buried her face in her hands and laughed with Clark.

When she finally had control of herself again, she gasped out, "Well, if this isn't 'bout the dumbest thing thet I've ever done. Jest look at me! I think thet my sleepless nights have really numbed my brain. Oh, Clark, jest look at the mess thet I got here!"

Then a new thought struck her. The repacking of the case was going to take some time if she were going to do it carefully. Perhaps she would need to stuff things into the case and run to catch the train. Nervously, she looked up, her hands quickly returning things to their proper places.

"How much time we got 'fore--"

Clark, understanding the worry in her eyes, assured her that they had far more time than she would ever need for the repacking, even though she was particular and fussy as Aunt Gertie. Marty had never learned any more about Aunt Gertie, but when Clark wanted to make a point of someone's fussiness, he always brought up Aunt Gertie. The boys had taken up the phrase too, though Marty knew for sure that they knew nothing of the mysterious Aunt Gertie.

Marty, relieved that there was plenty of time, carefully set out to put everything back in its proper place while Clark shaved and dressed.

She was still laboring over the open case when Clark stood, hat in hand, all ready to go.

"Be it time?" Marty inquired.

"Take yer time--we still got lots of it. Soon as yer ready we'll go on down an' find us some breakfast. A man can't travel on an empty stomach. Then we'll come back on up an' pick up our things." Clark tipped up Marty's chin and looked into her face with a smile. "Guess we might as well do the rest of our waitin' at the train station. I have me a-feelin' thet yer not gonna rest easy until yer sure thet yer gonna be on thet there train," he added.

Marty packed in the last few items and closed the case.



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She stood to her feet and nodded her head. There was no use denying what Clark had just said. He knew her far too well.

"I'm ready now," she said. "An', yes, I could be usin' some breakfast."