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

This New House

While Marty slept, Ben Graham came by. "I thought I'd save ya the trip back to her wagon. Brought her trunk, an' a couple other things that was in there. Not much to save."

"No," Clark agreed. "Didn't seem to be much."

"Sure was a generous idea, marryin' her to give her a home." Ben hesitated. "Ya sure ya know what ya be a doin'? It's a big change."

Clark remembered that the Grahams had begun their marriage in a similar way a long time ago—a man and a woman, each with three kids, making a single family. If anyone knew the challenges ahead of him, it was Ben Graham. He nodded slowly. "Can't see there was any other choice. Missie be a needin' a mama, and Missus Claridge—ah, Davis," he corrected himself, "be a needin' ..." He looked at the small battered trunk. "Everythin'."

"True enough. Ma'll be over in a few days to help her get settled. Ya be a needin' anythin', you send word."

"I will. Thank ya."

Ben tipped his hat and was gone. Clark hoisted the little trunk and carried it into the bedroom, stopping to look at Marty as she slept. She was sleeping hard, huddled up in the middle of the big bed. She hadn't even pulled down the blankets, just fallen asleep on top of them. He wondered when the last time was that she'd had a decent night's sleep. Nights were getting cool, and that wagon hadn't been any too well sealed against the night winds.

He'd just let her sleep as long as she needed, he decided. He put Missie in her little chair and gave her some blocks to amuse herself with while he put together a simple supper. He did hope Marty could cook—his own cooking would serve, but it wasn't the nourishment a little body needed.

Marty appeared from the bedroom just as he was getting ready to put the plates on the table. He was glad he had decided to make enough for her, as well, assuming she hadn't eaten any better than she'd slept recently.

She took her seat at the table, muttering a soft "thank ya" as he put a cup of coffee in front of her.

It surprised him some that she reached for her food before he asked the blessing. It hadn't occurred to him to wonder if she was a believer; he had just assumed. Well, that was one thing he wouldn't bend on. Missie needed to grow up knowing the love of the Lord, and Clark needed his faith, every ounce of it, to get through each day. But he wouldn't force Marty to join in—for now, all he asked was that she listen.

"Father, thank ya fer this food ya provide by yer goodness. Be with this, yer child, as Comforter in this hour, an' bless this house an' make it a home to each one as dwells here. Amen."

Marty seemed so startled by the prayer that she forgot the pancakes she had been so eager for a minute earlier.

"Ain't ya hungry?" he asked at last, and she roused herself, taking the pancake he was holding out for her.

Missie chattered all through dinner. He was used to her, and mostly followed what she said, but he noticed Marty didn't seem to be able to understand much of it. She'd learn—or Missie would learn to speak more clearly. One or the other. At least Marty seemed comfortable enough with Missie, which was a good start.

After dinner, Marty volunteered to wash the dishes, somewhat to Clark's surprise, as he had grown used to her remaining passive. But he was glad to see her showing an interest. He showed her where a few things were, and then set about putting Missie to bed.

It had been a long day for the little mite. She was a favorite with the Graham children, and they'd worn her out. She was asleep before Clark left the room.

He found Marty just coming back from emptying the dishwater. She had instinctively thrown the water on the rose bush by the door, he was glad to see.

"She's asleep already," he told her. For a moment, they stood there, not sure what to do next. Clark thought maybe he should start by giving her some idea of how things were in this new house. "The drawers in the chest be all empty. I moved my things to the lean-to." He had slept there a fair amount, anyway, on nights when he was unable to bear the thought of sleeping in that big bed without Ellen, just leaving the door open so he could hear Missie if she cried in the night. "Ya can unpack an' make yerself more comfortable like. Feel free to be a usin' anythin' in the house, an' if there be anythin' thet ya be a needin', make a list. I go to town most Saturdays fer supplies, an' I can be a pickin' it up then. When ya feel more yerself like, ya might want to come along an' do yer own choosin'."

Marty accepted all that with her accustomed silence. He noticed how big her eyes were, how slowly she blinked, the way she held on to the edge of the cupboard. She was still exhausted, her body and mind trying to adjust to so many changes.

"I think thet ya better git ya some sleep. It's been a tryin' day. I know thet it's gonna take ya some time to stop hurtin'—fer ya to feel at home here. We'll try not to rush ya." He looked at her closely, wanting to make sure she heard him. "I married ya only to have Missie a mama. I'd be much obliged if ya 'llow her so to call ya."

Without a word, Marty nodded solemnly. She turned and left the room, making her way to the bedroom. He wondered if she was looking at Missie, lying there asleep, feeling any of the wonder and love that filled him when he watched his little girl sleep. Probably not yet, but he hoped it would come, and soon. Better for Missie, better for Marty, once they grew to love one another.

As for him, he hoped once Marty found her voice that he would like her enough to be able to enjoy having her at his table, in his house. But he didn't need more than that. His heart still longed for Ellen, and he wasn't yet ready to think about giving it to another woman.