Free Spring's Gentle Promise by Janette Oke Page B

head. He’s courtin’ all right, I decided—but like Grandpa, I couldn’t figure out which girl he had his eye on.
    I didn’t have much to say when he arrived, just sat back watching the situation. He teased and flirted with Matilda, but then he turned right around and asked Mary to a Pie Social in town. It happened to be on the night of Matilda’s annual school program, so Mary turned him down. He smiled and said, “Next time” and Mary nodded her head.
    When Christmas came, along with it came Will Sanders as well. He brought each of the girls a gift, a pair of warm gloves. After he finally left for home that night, the girls openly talked about it.
    “I never dreamed we’d be on his Christmas list,” said Matilda. “I never even thought to put his name on mine.”
    “Me neither,” said Mary, studying the fingers of the gloves absent-mindedly. “What do we do now? I s’pose it would be terribly rude not to give a gift in return.”
    She looked imploringly at Matilda as though she wished her to say that it wouldn’t be rude at all. Grandpa said it.
    “Seems to me that one shouldn’t feel obligated, things bein’ as they be.”
    I wasn’t quite sure what Grandpa meant, but I was willing to agree.
    The girls kept on mulling over the problem.
    “I know,” said Mary suddenly. “Let’s give him a gift together!”
    “Together?” echoed Matilda.
    “One gift—from both of us.”
    Matilda’s face brightened. “Let’s!” she squealed.
    A few days later they were wrapping up a pair of socks and putting both names on the card. I won’t pretend I didn’t get a bit of satisfaction from the arrangement. Then it hit me—perhaps the girls didn’t care too much either for the fact that Will had not openly made known whom he was courting.
    On Christmas morning I unwrapped my own gifts. Matilda gave me a pair of fine cuff links. Mary gave me a hand-knit scarf and gloves set. I don’t know when she ever found the time to do it without my knowing, but I sure did take pleasure in the gifts, realizing how special they were and how they bespoke the two givers.
    Will Sanders , I breathed, but not aloud, it’s your turn to be jealous!
    The winter storms began to abate, and I could sense another spring just around the corner. I could hardly wait. I wanted to get back on my land. I wanted to get the Ford out again and feel the thrill of covering the miles so quickly, the wind whipping around me. As it was, I dreaded each trip to town since I had gone from the motor car back to the slow-plodding team. I put off every journey for just as long as I could.
    On one such day I returned home a bit out-of-sorts because of my impatience with the snow-covered road. After caring for the team, I bundled the groceries into my arms and headed for the kitchen and a hot cup of coffee with a bit of Mary’s baking.
    No coffee greeted me. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie sat at the table. It appeared that they had been there for hours, not because they wanted to but because they didn’t know what else to do with themselves. It was so untypical that it threw a scare into me right away.
    “Where’s Mary?” I asked, my eyes quickly darting about the room.
    There was silence; then Grandpa cleared his throat, while Uncle Charlie shuffled his feet.
    “She went on home,” explained Grandpa. “Word came her ma was sick.”
    “Sick?” I repeated, letting the word sink in and thinking of all those years that Mary’s ma had spent in bed. “How sick?”
    “Don’t rightly know,” said Grandpa. “The youngest girl jest came a ridin’ over here—nigh scared to death, and hollered fer Mary to come quick. Mary did. Without hardly lookin’ back—jest jumped on up behind her an’ the two of ’em took off agin.”
    I put the groceries down and wheeled back toward the door.
    “Mary should’ve taken Chester,” I mumbled as I went.
    Grandpa called after me, “Where you off to?” Then he added as kindly as he could, “Josh, at a time