Free Love comes softly by Janette Oke

outdoors and one another, and she, Marty, would have the day to herself. The thought both excited and frightened her.
    Clark went out into the shed and returned with a strange contraption which appeared to be some sort of carrier to be placed on his back.
    "Fer Missie." He answered the question in her eyes. "I had to rig this up when I needed to take her to the fields an' a chorin' with me. She even had her naps in it as I tramped along." He smiled faintly. "Little tyke got right heavy at times, too, fer sech a tiny mite. Reckon I'd better take it along today fer when she tires of walkin'."
    Marty completed the packing of the lunch. She realized that she was giving them far more than they needed, but the fresh air and the walk through the hills was bound to give them a hearty appetite.
    Missie was beside herself with excitement and called goodbye over and over to Marty as they left. Ole Bob joined them at the door and Marty watched the trio disappear back of the barn. She remembered as she turned back to clear the table and do up the dishes that today would have been Ellen's birthday. Maybe their walk would include a visit to her grave. Marty somehow believed that it would.
    She hurried through the small tasks of the morning and then fairly bolted to her bedroom and the waiting material and shiny new machine. She wasn't sure if she was breaking Clark's sabbath with her sewing or not. She hoped not, but she was not sure that she could have restrained from doing so even if she had known. She did hope that she would not offend Clark's God. She needed any help that He was able to give. She pushed the thoughts aside and let her mind be completely taken up with her task-- almost. At times she nearly caught her breath with feelings that came from nowhere.
    "Wouldn't Clem be proud to see me in this?"
    "This is Clem's favorite color."
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    "Clem al'ays did poke fun at what he called `women's frivols'."
    No, it seemed there was just no helping it. He was there to disquiet her thoughts even though his absence still made her throat ache. Stubbornly she did not give in to the temptation to throw herself on her bed and sob, but worked on with set jaw and determined spirit.
    In the afternoon she laid her sewing aside. She hadn't even stopped for a bite to eat. She hadn't missed it, and her sewing had been going well. The machine worked like a dream and she couldn't believe how much faster seams were turned out with its help. She decided, however, that her eyes could use a rest. They had been staring at the machine foot for what seemed like years.
    She walked outside. It was a glorious fall day and she almost envied Clark and Missie's romp through the crackling leaves. Slowly she walked around the yard. The rose bush had one single bloom-- not as big or as pretty as the earlier ones, she was sure, but beautiful just for its being there. She went on to the garden. The vegetables for the most part had already been harvested. Only a few things remained to be taken to the root cellar. At the end of the garden was the hole that she had dug to bury her biscuits. It was re-dug by Ole Bob who had hastened to unearth them again. A few dirty hard lumps still lay near the hole. Even Ole Bob had abandoned them. It no longer mattered as much, thought Marty, giving one a kick with her well-worn shoe. Funny how quickly things can change.
    She walked on, savoring the day. The fruit trees that Clark had told her of looked promising and healthy. Wouldn't it be grand to have your own apples? Maybe even next year, Clark had said. She stood by one of the trees, not sure if it was an apple tree or not, but should it be, she implored it to please, please have some apples next year. She then remembered that even if it did, by then she would have left for the East. She didn't bother to inform the apple tree of this, for fear that it would lose heart and not bear after all. She turned and left, not caring as deeply now.
    On she walked, down the path to the stream just