Free Spring's Gentle Promise by Janette Oke

bachelor like Uncle Charlie. I wanted a wife—love—a family.
    But first—there came the courting.
    I had no idea how to go about courting a girl. Oh, if it was like this here Will fella handled it, there wasn’t much to it. I mean, he just came over whenever he took the notion and just sorta hung around and teased and complimented the girls some. Any fella could do that.
    But, I knew that wasn’t the way that I’d do it. A girl deserved more consideration than that. I thought she had a right to expect more than that. If I was courting I’d try to think of nice things to do that she might enjoy.
    Take Matilda— she loves flowers—an’ sweet smellin’ perfume— an’ trips to town an’ pretty new pieces of jewelry , I listed off. She likes music—and laughing and picnics in the country and drives in the motor car. Wouldn’t be too hard at all for me to think of ways to court Matilda.
    What if I courted Matilda? How long did a fella have to “court” before he could properly ask a young woman to marry him? I mean, courting could take a good deal of time and expense. True, a fella could get a lot of enjoyment out of it. Especially if the young woman really enjoyed the courting—like Matilda would. Maybe she’d just want it to go on and on. Matilda would like courtin’ all right, I decided.
    But what about after the courting? I couldn’t really picture Matilda in the kitchen, working over a hot stove, baking bread and canning the garden produce. I couldn’t really see her leaning over the scrub board, hair in disarray while she scrubbed at dirty farm socks. Oh, Matilda fit into the courting picture just fine—but the marriage picture wasn’t so easy to visualize.
    Now, Mary—I could see Mary doing all those kitchen things. I had watched her perform all the household tasks dozens of times. It seemed so—so natural for Mary. She did it without fuss—without comment—and even seemed to somehow enjoy the doing. Mary in the kitchen seemed right reasonable. But courtin’? I couldn’t think of a single way that one would properly court Mary. I mean, she never fussed about perfumes or pretty jewelry or lace hankies or anything like that. She never coaxed for rides in the motor car or asked for picnics. I couldn’t honestly think of a thing that would make Mary impulsively throw her arms around my neck or giggle with girlish glee.
    I lay there, struggling with questions I’d never faced before— working them this way and then that way. No matter how I tried I couldn’t come up with any answers. But I knew instinctively that I could no longer just push the matter aside. I had to get it sorted out. My whole future depended on it.

C HAPTER 9

Eying the Field
    E VEN IF I HAD wrestled with the problem for half the night, I was no nearer an answer when I got up to go choring the next morning. This much I knew, I had two girls right at hand who most young men in the area considered first-rate candidates for a marriage partner, and I had been taking them for granted.
    I also knew that if I was going to choose one of them—and I figured I would be pretty dense not to—then I was going to need to decide which one and get on with the courting. The trouble was deciding. They were so different—yet both special.
    Matilda’s energy and enthusiasm made the house seem alive. We all enjoyed her company. Even Grandpa and Uncle Charlie counted the days until she returned from her trips home. The world just seemed like a nicer place when Matilda was around.
    Then I thought of Mary. Mary was quiet—not bouncy. But Mary was—well—supportive. She was dependable and sort of comfortable to be around. I’m not sure how we would have managed without Mary.
    Matilda or Mary? How was one to decide? And just what kind of tension would it put on our household if I started to court the one and left behind the other?
    Now, I had no reason to think that either girl was sitting around holding her breath waiting for Josh Jones to