Love's Abiding Joy (Love Comes Softly #4)(9)

It took Marty longer to prepare for going out than it did Clark. He waited patiently while she primped and fussed and finally felt confident enough to venture forth. They descended the stairs slowly, and Clark made inquiry as to the location of a nice dining room. Assured that the one in the hotel was one of the finest the city had to offer, they proceeded into an immense room with elaborate columns and deep wine-colored draperies. Marty had never dined in such splendor. She could scarcely take her eyes from the room and its occupants long



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enough to properly select from the menu. Everything on the stiff card before her looked too fussy, too much, and too expensive. It was hard for her to make up her mind. She wished that she could find something simple like fried chicken or roast beef. Clark asked for the house specialty and, without checking to see what it was, Marty echoed his order.

She tried not to stare, but the people moving about the room and sitting at the white-covered tables seemed to be from another world. She had to take herself consciously in hand and insist that she remember her manners. Still, she was relieved and pleased to notice that she did not stand out in the crowd as "backwoods" or "frumpish." Her daughters had chosen her clothes well. How thankful she was for their knowledge and encouragements.

The meal was delicious, though there was far too big a portion served; Marty, who was not used to wasting anything, had a difficult time leaving the food on her plate and sending it back to the kitchen. She was concerned, too, that the cook might take offense and feel that the food had not pleased her. After she had eaten all she could and pushed back her plate, she still was not sure exactly what she had eaten. It had been very tasty--but not identifiable like her homecooked farm suppers of roast beef, potatoes and gravy. Everything about the city was different.

They ordered French pastries to go with their coffee and lingered over them, enjoying the taste, the atmosphere, and the pleasurable luxury of sitting with no responsibility to hasten them away from the table.

When they felt that it would be impolite to remain any longer, they rose from the table and returned to the lobby. Clark purchased a local paper and tucked it under his arm as they again made their way up the stairs to their room. Marty held her skirt carefully as she climbed; it would never do to step clumsily on her skirt and damage such an expensive hemline.

"So how do you plan on spendin' this lazy evenin', with no mendin' or sewin' in yer hands?" Clark asked, as he opened the door to their room.



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"Isn't botherin' me none," responded Marty. "As tired as I be feelin', I expect thet sleep sounds 'bout as good to me as anythin' thet I could be doin'."

Clark smiled. "Go on. Tuck yerself in then. Me, I'm jest gonna check the paper an' see what's goin' on in the world."

Marty prepared for bed and crawled between the cool, smooth sheets with a contented sigh. Oh, how tired she was! She longed for a good long sleep. She would be off before you could say--. But she wasn't. Try as she might to relax in the big, soft bed, her mind still kept whirling. She thought of Missie and the family that she was going to see; she thought of Ellie, Luke, Arnie, and Clare back home. Was there anything that she had forgotten to tell them, any reminders that she hadn't given, any instructions that she had missed? Would the baggage really make it on the train? What would it be like sharing the close proximity of a train car with strangers for days on end as they traveled? Marty's mind buzzed busily with questions.

Clark finished reading his paper, prepared for retiring, and slipped in beside her. Soon Marty heard his soft breathing and knew that he slept in spite of the hotel bed. Still sleep eluded her. She stirred restlessly and wished for morning. Once they were actually on that train and headed for Missie's, she was sure that then she could relax.



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Chapter Five




Alarm



In spite of a restless night, Marty roused early the next morning. Anticipation took charge of her once again, driving her from the bed. Clark stirred as Marty threw back the blankets.

"Rooster crow already?" he teased, then shut his eyes again and turned over.

Marty didn't let his joshing bother her but went about her morning preparations. She had already decided on the dress and hat she would wear for their first train ride and carefully worked out the wrinkles with the palms of her hands. She shook out the hat, fluffing up the feather, and stepped back to admire the plume. My, this is some hat, she thought. She felt a mite self-conscious about wearing it but then assured herself that all of the fashionable ladies wore them.

Marty dressed carefully and then began packing her nightclothes and her gown of yesterday in her case. The gown smelled dusty and looked bedraggled from the stagecoach ride. What a shame to pack it away in such a mess! she fretted.



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She wished there were some way to freshen it first. She selected a few pages from Clark's newspaper and carefully wrapped the dress in it. Clark seemed not the least disturbed by the crackling newspaper.

Marty finished all there was to do, and Clark still hadn't stirred. She wasn't sure what she should do. She hated to waken him, but what if they were late and missed their train? She had no idea of the time. She crossed to where Clark's vest hung on the back of a chair and fumbled in his breast pocket for his pocket watch. It isn't there! Marty's mind flashed to each of the terrible stories she had ever heard about the big city. They were true! Someone must have come into their room in the dead of night and stolen Clark's watch. If his watch was gone, what else had they taken? Marty hurried to her case. Was her cameo from Ellie still there? And what about the gold brooch that Clark had given her two Christmases ago?