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

Settling In

Clark was worried about what he would find when he came in from the barn from doing the chores the next morning, but he was relieved to see that Missie was seated in her chair—clothed, and in her right mind, he reflected, although he didn't share the thought with Marty.

Breakfast was pancakes again. Clark couldn't fault Marty too much for the repetitious fare—after all, his own cooking left something to be desired, and he made pancakes probably more often than he should—but he did hope she was capable of cooking something else.

Marty was prepared for the reading and the prayer this time, and the meal proceeded calmly, if silently. When Clark finished his coffee, Marty jumped up for the coffeepot, but he shook his head. "I'd like to, but I better not take me a second cup this mornin'. The sky looks more like winter every day an' Jedd still has him some grain out. I'm gonna git on over there as quick as I can." He looked wistfully at the coffeepot. There was nothing he'd like more than to stay home today, work on his own spread, sit and have a leisurely cup of Marty's good, rich coffee. Not today. Jedd's wife and daughters needed their grain brought in. "But thet's good coffee," he told Marty.

On his way out, he let her know that he would be eating at the Larsens' again. Poor Missus Larsen, she was as silent as Marty, but in a different way, and her cooking was plain, simple, and a bit scanty. Likely her cupboards weren't kept well stocked, Clark thought. He tried every once in a while to put a word in with Jedd about his family's needs, but Jedd had always been most concerned about his own needs, and Clark didn't see that changing anytime soon.

All the way home, he wondered—and worried—about what he would find when he got there. Missie didn't meet the wagon halfway down the road this time, which he considered progress.

When he went inside after finishing the chores, he could smell the good hot coffee, which he was glad for, and underneath that scent the odor of food that had burned. Marty seemed distressed, her eyes darting to him and away as if she was afraid of what he would say, but her face was set and defiant, as if she was ready to be defensive.

Bread that he recognized as the last of what he had made, potatoes, and ham. Well, it wasn't pancakes, he thought. The potatoes were mushy, the ham was slightly burnt, and a pot of carrots boiled at the back of the stove. They might be ready for breakfast.

As they ate, he looked around the kitchen, seeing that she had been busy. Everything had been scrubbed carefully, much better than he had ever managed, and it looked shiny and clean. He was pleased she was settling in and making the place her own—pleased, and a little saddened. Everything she touched took away a little piece of what Ellen had left behind.

There now, he thought, his eyes resting fondly on Missie's bright curls. He had all he needed of a reminder of Ellen here at the table. Marty had ... nothing, as far as he can tell, other than some clothes that were as good as rags, to remind her of her lost husband. First husband, Clark amended silently, realizing with some surprise that he was her husband now.

As he ate and thought, something fell near the wall. He looked up, frowning slightly as he tried to determine what it was. The chinking looked ... off, somehow, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong.

Well, he was too tired to think about it tonight. Whatever it was, he was sure he could manage to deal with it in the morning.