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

Love

Once he'd gotten Marty and Missie settled into the hotel room, Clark went back outside to care for the horses, patting them and talking to them affectionately, and paying the stables a little extra to get them the best feed. They had done good work today—the best work. They had saved little Clare.

Returning to Marty and Missie, he took them down to the dining room of the hotel to get some kind of a supper. He wasn't hungry, but he tried to force himself to eat. He could see that both of them were doing the same. Missie was exhausted, and there were fresh tracks of tears on her face, and Marty was white-faced and still trembling from her long hours of fright.

When they had all admitted they couldn't eat another bite, they retired to the room, where Clark and Marty both held Missie tight and told her how brave and good she had been to stay so quiet and still while little Clare needed them. She apologized for spilling the buttons in the first place, and Clark smoothed her hair and told her that accidents happened, as Marty had done while he was out tending the horses. She wept a little more against his chest, and Clark held her close and thanked God that all would be well.

He took a seat in a chair overlooking the main street, quiet now while everyone slept, while Marty settled Missie into the little cot that had been brought up for her. There was a sleepy murmur as Missie said her prayers, but it stilled quickly. Marty sat with her for a few minutes more, and then Clark heard her gently get to her feet and come toward him.

Clark wanted so much to stand up and hold her, to whisper words of love and comfort into her ear, to feel her arms around him in support as well. But this was not the time to be pushing her into something she wasn't ready for, or even telling her how much he loved her and the children, how hard it was to imagine life without them.

Rather than pressure her when she was clearly at the end of her strength, he got to his feet, reaching for his hat.

"Where ya be a headin'?" she asked.

He hadn't thought, but there was really only one place to go. "I'm a thinkin' thet I'll spend me the night over at the doc's. Iffen little Clare be awakin' I'm thinkin' thet he should wake to some of his'n 'stead of strangers."

"But doc says he won't wake till morn."

"Maybe so. All the same, I'll find comfort just watchin' him sleep peaceful-like. I'll be over in the mornin' to be sure ya not be a needin' anythin'."

As he turned to leave, he felt her touch his arm, holding on to his sleeve. He looked down at her, finding her eyes fixed on his. The expression there—she was asking him not to go. But did she want him, or did she want not to be alone?

Clark stepped closer, putting his hands on her shoulders, looking down into her eyes, and saw there the look he had scarcely allowed himself to hope to see. There was love there, and there was a need for his love in return.

But maybe in his own need he was imagining hers. Maybe it was too much to hope for. "Ya bein' sure?" he asked her, his voice husky.

She nodded, her eyes still fixed on his face, and Clark couldn't deny her—or himself—any longer. He put his arms around her, gingerly, as if she might fly away, and lowered his head until their lips met. Their first kiss was soft and gentle, and when it was over he clung to her, holding her tight.

"I was so afraid," he whispered against her hair. "So afraid ya were gonna leave me afore I could find a way to tell ya how much I had come to love ya, how much I wanted ya to stay. I love ya, Marty, an' am so glad ya came into my life, and Missie's life. I don't know what we woulda done without ya."

She held him as tightly, and he could feel her shoulders shaking as she wept tears of joy.