Love's Abiding Joy (Love Comes Softly #4)(4)

Nandry's oldest, Tina, giggled. "Oh, Grandpa, how can one org'nize chatter?"

"Can I go now? Can I go play with Uncle Arnie?" Andrew interrupted, the only boy in the family of Nandry and Josh.

"Just before we all leave the table and scatter who-knowswhere, how about if we let Grandma open up her birthday gifts?" asked Clae.



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"Oh, yes! Let's. Let's!" shouted the children, clapping their hands. Presents were always fun, even if they were for someone else.

Grandma Marty was given a chair of honor and the gifts began to arrive, carried in and presented by various hands. The children shared scraps of art work and pictures. Tina had even hemmed, by hand stitch, a new handkerchief. Nandry and Clae, presenting gifts from their families, laughed when they realized that they had both sewn Marty new aprons. Clare and Arnie had gone together and purchased a new teapot, declaring that now she could "git rid of thet ol' one with the broken spout." Ellie's gift to her mother was a delicate cameo brooch, and Marty suspected that Clark had contributed largely to its purchase. Luke was last. His eyes showed both eagerness and embarrassment as he came slowly forward. It was clear that he was just a bit uncertain as to how the others would view his gift.

"It didn't cost nothin'," he murmured.

"Thet isn't what gives a gift its value," Marty replied, both curious and concerned.

"I know thet you always said thet, but some folk--wellthey think thet ya shouldn't give what cost ya nothin'."

"Ah," said Clark, seeming to realize what was bothering the boy, "but the cost is not always figured in dollars and cents. To give of yerself sometimes be far more costly than reachin' into one's pocket fer cash."

Luke smiled and seemed to feel more at ease as he pushed his clumsy package toward Marty.

"Ya said thet ya liked 'em, so--"

He shrugged and backed away so that his mother could open her gift.

Heavy and bulky, it was wrapped in brown paper and tied at the top with store twine. Marty could not imagine what kind of a gift could come in such a package. She untied the twine with trembling fingers and let the brown paper fall stiffly to the floor. Before her eyes were two small shrubs, complete with roots and part of the countryside in which they had grown. Marty recognized them at once as small bushes from



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the hill country. She had exclaimed over them when she had seen them in full bloom one summer when she and Clark had taken the youngsters into the hills for a family outing. How beautiful they had looked in their dress of scarlet blossoms. She caught her breath in a little gasp as she visualized the beautiful shrubs blooming in her own garden.

"Do you think thet they'll grow okay, Pa?" Luke's anxiety showed in his voice. "I tried to be as careful as I could in diggin' 'em up. Tried to be sure to keep from hurtin' the roots an'--"

"We'll give 'em the best possible care an' try to match their home growin' conditions as much as possible," Clark assured Luke; then he continued almost under his breath, "--iffen I have to haul their native soil from them hills by the wagonload."

Marty couldn't stop the tears this time. It was so much like Luke. He had traveled many miles and had gone to a great deal of work and care in order to present to her the shrubs that he knew she loved. And yet he had stood in embarrassment before his family, his eyes begging them to please try to understand his gift and the reason for his giving it. She pulled him gently to her and hugged him close. Luke wasn't too fond of motherly kisses in public places, so Marty refrained from embarrassing him further.

"Thank you, son. I can hardly wait fer them to bloom."

Luke grinned and moved back into the family circle.

All eyes then turned to Clark. It had become traditional that the final gift to be given at family gatherings was always from the head of the home. Clark cleared his throat now and stood to his feet.

"Well, my gift ain't as pretty as some thet sit here. It'll never bloom in years to come either. But it does come with love, an' I hope it be somethin' thet truly gives ya pleasure. No fancy package--jest this here little envelope."

He handed the plain brown envelope to Marty. Marty turned it over in her hand, looking for some writing that would indicate what she was holding. There was nothing.

"Open it, Gran'ma," came a small voice, echoed by many others.

"



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Marty carefully tore off one corner, slit the envelope open, and let the contents fall into her lap--two pieces of paper and on them words in Clark's handwriting. Marty picked up the first. Aloud she read the message, "This is for the new things that you be needing. Just let me know when and where you want to do the shopping."

"Ya should have read the other one first," interjected Clark.

Marty picked up the second slip of paper. It read, "Arrangements have been made for tickets on the train to Missie. We leave--"

Tickets to go to Missie! All of Marty's thoughts and longings centered on their daughter so many miles away. The recent "if onlys" crowded in around her. She was going to see Missie again. "Oh, Clark!" was all she could manage, and then she was in his arms sobbing for the wonder of it--the pure joy of the promise the tickets held.