Spring's Gentle Promise

Spring's Gentle Promise by Janette Oke Page A

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Authors: Janette Oke
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the whole thing.
    Then an idea came to me. “Hey, why don’t you go on home for a few days?”
    Mary whirled to look at me, her eyes wide.
    “Oh, I couldn’t!” she exclaimed.
    “Why not? We could manage for a few days.”
    “But—but the meals an’ all—”
    “We’ve made meals before.” I was sure now that it was just the thing for both Mary and her mother.
    “But—but Matilda—her lunch an’—”
    “We’ll fix Matilda’s lunch. I’ll do it myself—if she’ll trust me.”
    “But I—I don’t know what to say.”
    “Then go. Really. We can manage—as long as you don’t stay away too long.”
    Mary was torn—I could see that. She wanted desperately to go to her mother, but she felt a deep responsibility to us.
    “I mean it, Mary,” I prompted further and left my chair to take the dish towel from her hands.
    “Now you run off and pack yourself whatever you need for the next few days, an’ I’ll go out an’ hitch Chester to the sleigh.”
    “Are you sure?” Mary asked one last time.
    “I’m sure,” and I turned her gently around and urged her toward her bedroom door.
    Mary left then but turned back to say over her shoulder, “But the dishes—I haven’t even finished the dishes.”
    I looked at the dishes that remained. Mary had already washed up from the first breakfast.
    “I’ll do the dishes the minute I get back,” I promised her, and Mary went.
    As soon as she had disappeared I lifted my winter coat and hat from the peg by the door and went out to harness Chester as I had promised. Mary was out, valise in hand, just as I pulled up in front of the house. I helped her tuck in and we were off. Chester was feeling frisky, not having been used much, and he headed for the road at a fast clip. I had to slow him down to make the turn at the corner.
    Mary and I didn’t talk much on the way over. But we both enjoyed the brisk run in the cutter. I could sense the tension leaving Mary’s body and see the shine return to her eyes. I was pleased that the idea of her spending some time at home had come to me.
    As we turned down the Turley lane Mary spoke for the first time.
    “How long should I stay?”
    “Well—as long as you think you should,” I responded slowly.
    Mary smiled mischievously. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Josh?”
    “Truth is,” I answered, matching her mood, “I’m sorta
    hopin’ that you’ll get to missin’ us real soon.”
    Mary’s face flushed slightly, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
    “Seriously?” she said when her composure had returned.
    “Seriously—how about until Sunday?”
    “That long? This is only Wednesday.”
    “I know—an’ I’ll be counting every day—so don’t be late.”
    Mary flushed again.
    “I was wonderin’,” she said after a moment, “if Matilda might like to come join me on Friday evening. She’s never spent time at my house before an’—an’ I think that her—her cheery mood might be good for Mama.”
    I pulled Chester up to the front of Mary’s house. “I’ll tell Matilda,” I promised. “I’m sure she’d love to come and I’ll bring her over.”
    I helped Mary out and then lifted Chester’s reins again.
    “Will you come in, Josh?” asked Mary.
    “I think you and your mama need to meet alone,” I said thoughtfully. “Besides,” I went on in a lighter tone, “I’ve got to get on home to those dishes, remember?”
    Mary laughed softly, and then grew more serious.
    “Thanks, Josh,” she said. “For understandin’—an’—–everythin’.”
    I nodded and climbed back into the sleigh.
    “And, Josh,” Mary called softly. I turned to look at her. A few scattery snowflakes were falling about her. Some of them rested on the hair that escaped beneath her fur-trimmed hat. Her eyes were shining, her face lightened by some impulsive but pleasant thought. I waited, thinking what a picture she made as she stood there, valise in hand.
    “Josh,” she said again. “A motor car is nice. Really.

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