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

Shaping Up

There was a sharpness in the air that said snow, and the days were as dark as they got. While Clark preferred the spring and summer, he appreciated winter for the way it forced a person to slow down and think about the glories of creation. He also had a fondness for Christmas, the story of the baby Jesus and the wonder of His birth. He was particularly looking forward to this year, it being the first time Missie would really be aware of the traditions.

At breakfast one morning, he prayed, "Our God, as we be nearin' the season of yer Son's birth, make our hearts thankful thet He came, an' help us to be a lovin' our neighbor with a love like He showed us."

He was hungry this morning—a wind like today's built up a hearty appetite—so he didn't notice at first that Marty hadn't moved since the prayer. Only Missie tugging at her arm and saying "Hungry, Mama," woke her from her thoughts.

At last, once Missie's porridge was cooled for her, Marty spoke up. "Ya know, I had fergot all 'bout how close Christmas be."

He considered her, wondering what Christmases had been like when she was young. Likely she had thought to be in her own home with her first husband by now. Certainly he had spent some hard nights thinking about how much Ellen would have loved to see Missie's shining eyes on Christmas morning. "I know Christmas be a mite hard to be a thinkin' on this year. Iffen it be too hard fer ya, we can most ferget the day, 'cept for the readin' of the Story an' maybe a sock fer young Missie."

Marty considered that, mulling it over as she ate. Finally she said, "No, thet wouldn't be right. Missie needs her Christmas—a proper one like, an' I reckon it may do us good, too. We can't stay back there in the past nursin' our sorrow—not for her sake, nor fer our own. Christmas, seems to me, be a right good time to lay aside hurtin' an' look fer somethin' healin'."

Clark stared at her, dumb-founded. It was as good a sermon as any he had heard in church, and he admired her for the thought, and for sharing it with him. "Ya be right of course. So what ya be plannin'?"

"Well—" She pondered it. "Well. I'll git me to doin' some Christmas bakin'. Maybe Ma has some special recipes she'll share. Then we'll have a tree fer Missie. Christmas Eve we'll put it up after she be tucked in, an' we'll string pop-corn an' make some colored chains, an' have a few candles fer the windows, an' we'll kill a couple of the finest roosters, an' I'll find me somethin' to be a makin' fer Missie—"

As the ideas came tumbling out of her, Clark's enthusiasm for the project grew. A real Christmas. A celebration of life. "Roosters nuthin'," he exclaimed. "I'll go myself an' buy us a turkey from the Vickers. Missus Vickers raises some first-rate 'uns. Maybe there be somethin' we can be a makin' fer Missie together. I'll ride over to Ma's today an' git the recipes, or better still, it looks like a decent day. Ya be wantin' me to hitch ol' Dan an' Charlie so ya can be a goin' yerself?"

Marty's face brightened. "Oh, could I? I'd love to see Ma fer a chat iffen yer sure it'll be all right."

So he and Missie dropped Marty off at the Grahams', and they headed off to the Vickers' to talk turkeys. Missie was beside herself with excitement as they selected a fine-looking tom and crated him up in the wagon, babbling away about "Chris'as" and the "gobble-gobble". Clark wasn't sure if she was aware they would be eating the gobble-gobble or if she imagined him as a special guest, but either way, he was sure looking forward to some nice juicy turkey.

As they were driving home, between Missie's excited attempts to describe how they had chosen the turkey, Marty turned to him, hesitantly. "Do ya spose—I mean, would ya' all mind iffen we had the Grahams come fer Christmas dinner?"

He looked at her, startled. "All of 'em?"

"'Course all of 'em. I know there be thirteen of 'em an' three of us; thet makes sixteen. The kitchen table, stretched out like, will hold eight. Thet's the four grown-ups an' the four youngest of the Grahams. Missie'll be in her chair. Thet leaves seven Graham young'uns. We'll fix 'em a place in the sittin' room an' Laura an' Sally Anne can look to 'em."

Clark raised a hand to stop the flow of words. "Whoa." It was a remarkably well laid out plan. Marty had clearly been thinking it through. "I see ya got it all sorted out. Did ya speak with Ma on it?"

"'Course not. I wouldn't be a doin' thet afore I checked with you."

"I don't know." It was a lot of people, and she hadn't been running a house or cooking for very long. It might be more than she could manage, once the reality set in. "Seems to me it be a pretty big order, gettin' on a Christmas dinner fer sixteen, an' servin' it in our small quarters, an' ya bein' the way ya are an' all."

He could see from the way she drew in her breath that she hadn't factored in the pregnancy—but he could also see in the set of her lips that she didn't intend to let it change anything. "Pawsh! There be nuthin' wrong with the way I be. I feel as pert now as I ever did. As to fixin' the dinner, I'll have as much of thet done ahead as I can, afore the house packs jam tight. Then t'won't be sech a problem. When they gits there Ma an' the girls will give a hand—an' with the dishes, too. Oh, my!" She broke off with a sound very like a squeal. "The dishes! Clark, do we have enough dishes to set so many?"

He tried not to smile. It was the most animated and excited he had ever seen her. Whatever hassle the plan came with, it was worth it to see her this happy. "I don't know, but iffen ya don't, Ma'll bring some of hers along."

"Good!" Marty nodded firmly. "It be settled then."

So be it, Clark thought, a mite excited himself. It wasn't the Christmas he had planned once upon a time, but it was shaping up to be pretty nice anyway.