Free Love Finds a Home (Love Comes Softly Series #8) by Janette Oke

Belinda, was here for only a short time--as a visitor. Her duties--her life--lay many miles away, too.
    The sad, nostalgic thoughts drove Belinda from the swing. She laid aside the book and wandered to the garden.
    Belinda noticed that Marty's apple trees were bearing well. She could see where Marty had already picked some from this stem and that. Perhaps the apples had been baked in the pies Belinda had enjoyed the evening before.
    She passed on to the flowers. The goldenrod glowed brightly in the fall sunshine and the asters lifted proud heads, their colors varied and vibrant. Vibrant, thought Belinda. Vibrant. Amy Jo used that word for just about everything. She'd found it in one of Melissa's books, and she loved the sound of it. Belinda smiled to herself. It seemed like such a long, long time ago.
    That's what I should have done with my six weeks, she suddenly told herself. I should have gone to see Amy Jo and Melissa.
    But even as she thought of it, she knew better. Mama and Pa would never have forgiven me, she decided, if I'd gone out west instead of coming here. Then she admitted, Really, I wouldn't have liked it, either.
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    She moved on, admiring Marty's flowers. They are pretty, she mused, though nothing like Thomas's tailored flower beds.
    What's the matter with me? Belinda thought crossly. When I'm in Boston, I'm longing for the farm. And when I'm on the farm, I'm secretly longing for Boston. Don't I fit in anywhere anymore?
    The thought was an alarming one--and Belinda had no answer.
    She decided to go back to the kitchen. Perhaps her mother would find something for her to do.
    "I've finished my roaming," Belinda informed Marty, "I'm ready to be of some use now."
    Marty smiled indulgently at her youngest. "Have things changed?"
    Belinda hesitated. How could she express her feelings? To Marty everything must seem exactly the same.
    "Things?" queried Belinda almost sadly as she washed her soiled hands at the big basin. "No, not things. Just . . . just us. People. We change. We've all changed, haven't we, Mama?"
    Perhaps Marty did understand. It looked like her eyes were misting briefly with tears. She nodded solemnly at her daughter, and Belinda could see that she, too, was remembering.
    "Yeah," she agreed in little more than a whisper. "Yeah, we change. Life is full of change. Seems only yesterday thet I . . . thet I first entered thet little log house over there . . . the one where we first lived . . . where Clare an' Kate used to live. Ain't no one lives there anymore. First yer pa built us this fine house, an' then Clare built the house yonder fer Kate. Now the little house jest sits there . . . empty and cold. An' . . . an' some days . . ." Marty hesitated and took a deep breath. "Some days," she finally went on, "I think I know jest what thet little house is feelin'."
    Belinda was ready to cry She hadn't thought much about how her mother felt. Hadn't experienced the pain of watching
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    a houseful of children leave one by one. She thought she understood better now.
    "But life is like thet," Marty acknowledged, squaring her shoulders. "One mustn't stay pinin' fer the past. Thet don't change a thing. One must be thankful fer what the present offers--what the future can promise."
    Marty lifted a corner of her apron to dab at her eyes. When she looked back at Belinda she was smiling.
    "My" she said, "I wouldn't want a one of 'em any different than they turned out to be. Independent! Responsible! Grownup! I look at folks round me, an' I think how blessed I've been. All good children, with keen minds and sturdy bodies. Thet's a powerful lot to be thankin' God fer."
    Belinda knew that Marty meant the words with all her heart. She nodded in understanding.
    "Let's have us some tea," Marty hastened on. "I'll git it ready whilst ya call Kate. She gits lonesome, Kate does. She still misses her Amy Jo." Marty shrugged resignedly. "But she always will," she admitted. "Thet kind of lonesomeness never goes away."
    Belinda