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

A Good Home

When Missie stirred, Clark went to get her while Marty waited in the sitting room. The result when she saw the transformation was everything they had hoped for—Missie was delighted with everything, turning from the tree to the toys in her sock to the dollhouse and back again, her eyes shining. Finally she stood between them, clasping her little hands, and sighed happily, "Oh, Chris'as bootiful."

Clark and Marty exchanged looks of pride and pleasure. Missie didn't notice because she was kneeling in front of the dollhouse, taking every item out, turning it over in her hands, and then carefully replacing it.

Outside the storm was still raging fiercely. Clark bundled himself up well to do the chores, glad that the barn was snug and the animals were safe and content inside. He was relieved to return to the warm house with the good smells of cooking filling it.

Breakfast was on the table by the time had unbundled himself, Missie having to be lured away from her toys by the promise that they would still be there once she had finished eating.

Clark bowed his head and prayed with real gratitude this morning, "Sometimes, Lord, we be puzzlin' 'bout yer ways. Thank ya, Lord, thet the storm came well afore the Grahams be a settin' out. We wouldn't want 'em caught in sech a one. An' Lord, thank ya fer those who share our table, an' bless this day of yourn. May it be one thet we can remember with warm feelin's even if the day be cold. Thank ya, Lord, fer this food thet ya have provided by yer goodness. Amen."

He thought that was it, until a small hand tugged at his sleeve. "Amen," Missie said. Then she pointed into the other room. "The house. Thanks—house."

Frowning, Clark tried to determine what she meant. Thanks for the home they lived in? He could do that. But Marty said, "I believe she be wantin' ya to say thanks fer her dollhouse."

He smiled. "Is thet it? Okay, Missie, we pray again. An' thank ya, Lord, fer Missie's dollhouse. Amen."

Missie nodded, satisfied, and offered her own 'Amen' again before digging in to her breakfast.

For the rest of the morning, while Missie played with her new toys, they played the game Clark had drawn, which Marty won nearly every time, to Clark's surprise and, he found, his pleasure. Once they put Missie down for her nap, Marty finished off preparations for her Christmas dinner. Clark was proud of her all over again as he stood looking at it—from those first pancakes to this bountiful spread. It hadn't been easy for her, but she had never complained or shirked her duty. She had worked hard, and done her best to make a good home for Missie.

"Yer turnin' out to be a right fine cook," he told her as they dug in to their food. Marty smiled, ducking her head at the unexpected compliment.

Once they'd eaten, they moved into the sitting room where Clark took Missie on his knee and opened the big Bible to the Christmas story. The majestic words seemed to bring that blessed event to life as he read them, and he noticed that Marty watched his face as he read with rapt attention, her eyes shining as though she had never heard the story before. Maybe she hadn't.

After Missie had been put to bed, Marty approached Clark and shyly asked him if he would mind reading the Christmas story over again. He was happy to oblige, watching her absorption with interest.

Once he had finished rereading, leaving Marty looking thoughtful over her knitting, he went to the lean-to, picking up the package he had bought her, weighing it in his hands. Should he give it to her? Did she want a gift from him? Was it too much?

Despite his misgivings, he took the package to her. "It ain't much to be a sayin' thank ya fer a carin' fer Missie an' all."

She took it from him, and Clark held his breath, watching her face light up as she opened it. As her fingers traced the initials engraved on the lid, she wept, tears rolling down her cheeks. "It's beautiful, really beautiful, an' I—I jest don't know how to thank ya."

Clark nodded, glad he had yielded to the impulse and given it to her, conscious that it felt good to make her happy, and for the moment, leaving it at that.