Love's New Beginning (a Love Comes Softly fanfiction)

The Obvious Solution

Missus Claridge was still silent as she sat on the wagon seat next to him on the way to the Grahams', where Missie was being cared for by the older girls. Fortunately the preacher had also gone to the Grahams' for his dinner, so it would be easy to take care of the marrying while they were there. Clark wasn't sure the woman next to him had the strength to go to one more place today.

He looked at her with concern. "Won't be too long now. It's powerful hot in the sun. Ya be a needin' a bonnet to shade yer head."

She stared at him as if wondering what business it was of his. Then, when she remembered, her face lost the spark of anger that had livened it briefly and she looked away.

If she didn't even have a bonnet, what did she have? Clark wondered. Anything? Did she know the first thing about cooking, or running a house, or taking care of a child? He didn't regret the offer he had made to her—it was the right thing to do—but he wondered how much extra work he was bringing down on his own shoulders in the months to come.

Several neighbors were at the Grahams' in order to hear the preacher speak before he left. Clark nodded at all of them as their curious faces turned to look at him and Missus Claridge standing in the doorway. Hat in hand, he made the explanation.

No one was surprised. It was the obvious solution to his troubles as well as those of the silent widow who stood next to him.

The ceremony was a blur to Clark, who couldn't help contrasting it to the way he had felt when he stood next to Ellen, when happiness had filled him so he thought he couldn't contain it, when he couldn't wait until the preaching was over so he could take her home and they could start their lives together. Now he couldn't wait until it was over so it would be done, so he could stop wondering if he had made a mistake and move on to making the best of whatever was to come.

He was grateful for Ma Graham, who whisked them both to places at the table and saw that Missus Claridge—Marty Davis now, he reminded himself, having learned her first name only when she whispered it for the preacher—ate everything in front of her. His new wife could speak, he discovered, although he suspected she didn't quite know what she was saying. Still, she was polite and responsive to the kindness of the neighbors, which spoke well for what she would be like when the fog of grief had begun to lift some.

Before he left, the preacher took a moment to pray specially for the new Missus Davis, which Clark appreciated. She seemed more bewildered than comforted by the prayer, but Clark was sure it would help.

Then young Sally Anne, the oldest Graham girl, came in with Missie in her arms. His eyes went immediately to his girl, returning the smile that lit her face when she saw him, so he didn't see what reaction, if any, Missie's new mama had to her first sight of her new charge. Clark held his little girl close, hoping this was the right decision for her, hoping that someday they would all be glad he had done this, thinking briefly of Ellen and the trust she had left him with to always do his best by their daughter. He was trying.

Marty sat in silence again on the drive to the farm. She had yet to say a single word directed at him, he noticed. Although at least now Missie kept up her lively chatter to mask the adults' lack of conversation.

As they came close to the farm, he lifted an arm and pointed. "There it be—right over there."

At the sound of his words, Marty jumped, but she followed his pointing finger with her eyes, and he was relieved to see her show some curiosity about the place that would be her home for the next several months, at least.

"It's nice," she said at last.

"Thank ya." He could sense what an effort it had been for her to speak, and he wondered if she was imagining what it would have been like to come here with her first husband, to build a life like this together. She gave a little sob, quickly choked off, and his heart ached for her. She was so young, and her pain was so new.

When they pulled up in the farmyard, he helped her down and stood holding her hand lightly. "Ya best git ya in out of the sun and lay ya down a spell. Ya'll find the bedroom off'en the sitting room. I'll take charge a Missie and anythin' else thet be a needin' carin' fer. It's too late to field work today anyway."

In truth, he was afraid if Marty didn't get some rest she'd fall over. She looked pale and drawn and nearly sick.

He was glad when she went inside without arguing, and he carried Missie off to the barn. He wasn't sure how much Missie would understand, but he tried anyway. "Missie, thet there be yer new mama. She ... she's come to help yer pa an' care fer ya, an', an' I hope ya'll be a good girl fer her."

Missie touched his cheek with her little hand. "Mama?"

The little voice saying the familiar word brought all his own pain back, and he fought the tears that stung his eyes. That word wasn't Ellen anymore—it was Marty. He would have to get used to it.

"Thet's right, Missie. Mama. Now, let's go git the chores done while yer mama rests herself."