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

Partners in Parenting

The week that came was busy, and surprisingly normal. Marty had settled into her new role, it seemed, and already Clark was aware that the house was cleaner and more cheerful, even though Marty was still silent much of the time. She was slowly being drawn out by Missie, and occasionally offered her thoughts to Clark, although only when asked directly. It was hard to remember what it had been like when it was only he and Missie.

They went to the Grahams for the fall hog-killing, and the Sterns were there. Marty's husband was buried on the Sterns' land, and they had been there the day he was buried. Clark noticed her watching them, her eyes darkened and sad, and his heart ached for her, knowing how it felt to be trying to get by, day after day, and have a reminder suddenly sneak up on you, sharp and as painful as if the grief was fresh. And of course, her grief was still fresh. It had barely been a week that her young husband had been gone. She was bearing up remarkably well, Clark thought. He watched her bend to remove Missie's jacket and then set her free to run with the other young fry, and was grateful for how quickly Marty had taken to his little girl.

Ma Graham suggested that Marty leave the cans of lard for soap-making at her house, and that they make the soap together. Marty's eyes were eloquent of her gratitude—clearly soap-making was a task she had never learned. Clark was happy to encourage her to develop a close relationship with Ma.

Clark had cleared his schedule the next day, so he told Marty he would watch after Missie while she went to the Grahams' to make soap. He was relieved to see she knew how to handle the team and wagon. Having come west in one, he had assumed she had learned on the way, but it was hard to know for certain. He really should sit down with her and learn her history, but ... it felt strange to be asking her for details about her life. They were technically husband and wife, but they weren't, not really. Nor were they friends. They were partners in parenting Missie and in running the farm. It wasn't exactly the way things should be, but Clark couldn't seem to find the right time or words to change them.

It was strange not to have Marty in the house, bustling around the kitchen. Missie noticed it, too. She went to the door several times during the day and asked, "Ma-ma?"

"Thet's right, Missie," Clark said, all the more heartily for the pang he felt when she called someone other than Ellen Mama. "Yer mama be over at the Grahams'."

"I go?"

"Not today." He swung her up in his arms. "Missie would jest be underfoot today."

She lifted her little feet gravely, trying to look under them, and he laughed and hugged her and set her in her chair with a cup of milk while he went back to caulking the kitchen walls.

Marty arrived with the team and a batch of soap just at chore time, and Clark made sure to ask how it went. She seemed surprised at the question, or possibly at his interest, and answered quickly that it had gone just fine, but that she needed to hurry to get supper started.

Clark took Missie to the barn with him while he cared for the team and did the chores and Marty took her soap inside. He thought maybe he ought to have started supper himself—he'd been thinking about it when the heard the team pull in—but then he didn't know if Marty would have taken it as a criticism if he had. He heaved a sigh that made Dan turn his head and blink wonderingly at him. It was so difficult living with someone he didn't know.

Supper was being put on the table when he came in—ham and fried potatoes and sliced bread, simple but filling, and Clark considered including in his prayer of thanksgiving before the meal the increasing comfort Marty showed in her role in the household, but then wasn't certain how she would take that.

Looking at Missie as he dished out her small pieces of ham, he realized her sleeves were a mite short. She was growing fast, his little girl, he thought with a mixture of pride and sorrow. Then it occurred to him that with winter coming, she would need more, larger clothes.

"Ya been a-makin' yer list fer town tomorrow?" he asked Marty.

She looked at him, startled out of her own thoughts, and nodded.

"I'm thinkin' thet young Missie here is outgrowin' her clothes. Iffen ya want to make a list of what ya be a-needin' fer her clothes fer the winter, I'll pick up whatever ya be wantin'."

"'Course. I'll go through her things right after I finish the dishes."

Clark considered what else to talk about—to ask about the Grahams, or comment on the weather—but Marty had gone back to her own thoughts, so he turned instead to Missie, helping her with her food.