Love's Abiding Joy (Love Comes Softly #4)(2)

Across the yard moved Clare and Arnie. They were men now, and yet in spite of the years, there was still much of the little boy in each of them. Many folks--those not aware of the death of Marty's first husband--were surprised by the difference in their appearances. Clare looked and acted more and more like his father Clem--big, muscular, teasing, boyish. Arnie was taller, darker, with a sensitive nature and finer features like Clark. By turn they loved one another, teased one another, fought with one another, couldn't live without one another. Laughing now as they came in for the milk pails, Clare, who usually did most of the talking, was telling Arnie of some incident at last night's social event. Arnie didn't care much for neighborhood socials, but Clare never missed one. Arnie joined in with his laughter at Clare's description of the mishap, but Marty heard him exclaim over and over, "Poor ol' Lou! Poor ol' Lou. I woulda' nigh died had it been me." Clare didn't seem to feel any sympathy for "poor ol' Lou." He was wholeheartedly enjoying the telling of the story. As the boys neared the door, Marty turned away from the window and dressed slowly. There was still lots of time to get the breakfast on. They were just now going to milk.

Marty combed her long hair back and lifted the softness of it. It was still heavy and full. She had sometimes noted the thinness of the hair on many older women and secretly pitied them. Well, she didn't have any need to worry on that score

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yet. In fact, her hair had really not shown much gray either. Not like Clark. His hair was quite gray at the temples and was even generously sprinkled with gray throughout. On him it looks good--rather distinguished and manly, she thought.

Marty dawdled as she pinned up her hair, still examining her thoughts carefully one by one. A birthday was a good time to do some reminiscing. At length, her hair in place, she made up the bed and tidied the room.

As she left her bedroom, the smell of morning coffee wafted up the stairs to her. Surely Clark didn't carry out his teasing, was her first thought. No, she had just seen Clark down by the far granary. Marty sniffed again. Definitely it was coffee, and fresh-perked too.

Her curiosity now fully aroused, Marty picked up the fragrance of frying bacon and breakfast muffins. She hurried into the kitchen, her nose fairly twitching.

"Aw, Ma. It was s'posed to be a surprise!"

It was Ellie.

"My land, girl," said Marty, "it shore enough was a surprise all right! I couldn't figure me out who in the world would be a stirrin"bout my kitchen this early in the mornin'."

Ellie smiled. "Luke wanted ya to have it in bed. I knew thet we'd never git thet far without ya knowin', but I thought thet maybe I could have it ready by the time ya came down."

Marty looked at the table. It was covered with a fresh linen cloth and set with the company dishes. A small bowl of wild roses was placed in the center, and each plate and piece of cutlery had been carefully assigned to its place.

"It looks to me like ya are 'bout ready. An' it does look so pretty, dear. Those there roses look so good thet I think I could jest sit an' feast my eyes 'stead of my stomach an' not be mindin' it one little bit."

Ellie flushed with pleasure. "Luke found 'em way over at the other side of the pasture."

Marty buried her nose in the nearest rose, smelling deeply of its fragrance and loving it in a special way because it was given to her in love by a caring family.

"Where is Luke?" she asked when she straightened up.



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"Don't think thet I'm to be tellin' thet," answered Ellie, "but he's not far away an' will be back in plenty of time fer breakfast. Ya like a cup of coffee while we're waitin' fer the rest to git here?"

"Thet'd be nice." Marty smiled. Instead of merely a birthday girl, she was beginning to feel like a queen.

Ellie brought Marty's coffee and then returned to the stove to keep her eye on her cooking. Marty sipped slowly, watching her younger daughter over the rim of the cup. Had she realized before just how grown up Ellie was? Why, she was most a woman! Any day now she might be taking a notion to cook at her own stove. The thought troubled Marty some. Could she stand to lose another of her girls? the last one? How lonely it will be to be the only woman in my kitchen! Ellie had kept life sane and interesting in the years since Missie had left. What would Marty do when Ellie, too, was gone? Why, just the other day, Ma Graham had remarked about what an attractive young woman Ellie had become. Marty, too, had noticed it, but secretly she had been hoping that no one else would-- not for a while yet. Once people began to notice and to whisper, there would be no turning back the clock. Soon their parlor would be buzzing with young gentleman callers, and one of them would be sure to win Ellie's heart. Marty was about to allow some tears to spill over when the men came in from the barn. Clare was first. "Hey, Ma, you don't look so bad, considerin'--" he teased, then laughed at his own absurd joke as though it were something really funny.

Arnie looked embarrassed. "Aw, Clare, nothin' funny 'bout yer dumb--"

But Clare slapped him noisily on the back and declared good-humoredly, "Ma, ya forgot to have 'em give this kid of yers a funny bone when they made him up. Don't know how to laugh, this kid."

Clare's teasing then turned to his sister. "Hey, it still smells all right. Haven't ya got to the burnin' stage yet?"