Spring's Gentle Promise (11 page)

It was Matilda. Her hair was wet and matted. Her face was bruised and had several tiny bandages. One leg, which lay partly exposed outside her blankets, was wrapped in whiteness. I guessed that Mr. Smith’s diagnosis had been right.

I had never seen a human all bruised and broken before. She looked just awful.

At the sight of me she began to cry. “Oh, Josh. I’m so sorry,”

she sobbed. “The rain—the road just—”

Doc didn’t scowl me out of the room. He even moved aside slightly. I knelt down beside Matilda and ran a hand over her tangled hair.

“It’s all right,” I said hoarsely. “It’s all right. Don’t cry. Just—just get better. Okay?”

I wanted to cry right along with Matilda, but I couldn’t. My eyes were still dry—my throat was dry. I could hardly speak. I just kept smoothing her hair and trying to hush her.

Matilda seemed to quiet some. I stood to my feet and looked Doc straight in the eye. “How’s—” I began. “How’s—?”

“Mary?” he finished for me.

I nodded mutely.

“She’s in the room across the hall,” Doc said and turned his attention back to Matilda’s arm.

I swallowed hard and turned back to the hallway. The first few steps made me feel as if I had lead boots. I could hardly lift my feet, and then I almost ran.

The door was closed and I shuddered as I turned the handle. Seeing Matilda had really shaken me. How might Mary look?

She had been—had been
pinned
under the motor car. I didn’t want to go into the room—but I had to know. I had to be with her.

I opened the door as quietly as I could. A small lamp on the dresser cast a faint light on Mary’s pale face. There was a large white bandage over one eye, and another covering most of an arm lying on top of the sheets, which were pulled almost to her chin. Two heavy quilts were tucked in closely about her body.
What are all those blankets hiding?
I asked myself.
She
was pinned—

My eyes went back to her face. So ashen. So still. Her eyes shut. Was she—?
Is she already gone?
And then I saw just the slightest movement—almost a shiver.

In a few strides I was beside her, kneeling beside her bed, my hand reaching to gently touch her bruised face.

“Oh, Mary, Mary,” I whispered.

Her lashes lifted. She focused her eyes on my face. “Josh?” she asked softly.

“I was so scared,” I admitted as I framed her cheek with my hand. “I was afraid I’d lost you—that—”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, moving her bandaged arm so that she could reach out to me.

“Don’t move,” I quickly cautioned, fearing she might come to more harm.

“I’m fine,” she assured me again in a whisper.

“But—but you were pinned—”

“Miraculously pinned,” Mary responded and she even managed a weak smile. “Oh, it caught me a bit on the arm—but it was mostly my coat sleeve. Doc says I’m a mighty lucky girl.”

“You’re—you’re not hurt?”

Mary moved slightly, and groaned. “I didn’t say I’m not hurt,” she admitted; then seeing the look of panic in my eyes, she quickly went on, “But nothing major and nothing that won’t heal.”

“Thank you, God,” I said, shutting my eyes tightly for a moment. Then I turned my full attention back to Mary. “I was so scared—so scared that—that—I didn’t even know until— until Billie brought the word—”

“I’m sorry, Josh. We had no way of getting help. No way of letting you know. We couldn’t get to a neighbor’s. Couldn’t even get to the road an’—your supper—?”

I stopped her. The memory of my impatience over our meal not being ready made me flush with shame. I looked at Mary’s face, swept soft and pale in the lamplight. “I should have known. I should have realized before,” I admitted. “I don’t know how I could be so dumb.”

“You had no way of knowin’,” argued Mary. “Sometimes we are later than we plan. Things—things just happen that delay us. But to miss the supper hour—No one could have guessed that we were lyin’ there in the ditch,” Mary explained and I realized that once again she was finding excuses for me. She was always doing that. Getting me off the hook when I did or said something stupid.

I brushed a wisp of hair back from her face. “Maybe deep down inside I knew all the time,” I murmured, “but it took something like this for me to realize—”

Mary’s eyes were puzzled. “You couldn’t have known ’bout the accident,” she said.

“No,” I answered. “I’m talkin’ ’bout me—us. I was scared to death, Mary, that I’d lost you—before I’d really found you. I didn’t realized until—until—” I stopped with a shudder.

“Josh,” said Mary softly but insistently, “what are you talkin’ about?”

I looked at her—my Mary, lying there white and quiet on the neighbor’s borrowed bed.
She could have been killed!
My heart nearly stopped even at the thought.
I could have lost her.
But she is still here.

I tried to speak but I choked on the words. I swallowed hard and tried again, looking directly into Mary’s eyes.

“I—I love you,” I managed to blurt out. “Maybe I always have—at least for a long time, but—but I was just too blind to see it—until now. I—”

But Mary’s little whisper stopped me. “Oh, Josh,” she uttered, her hand coming up to touch my cheek, and I could see tears filling her eyes.

My own tears came then. Sobbing tears. I laid my head against Mary’s shoulder and wept away all the pent-up emotions of the past dreadful hours. Mary let me cry, her hand gently stroking my head, my shoulder, and my arm.

I didn’t bother to apologize when I was finished. Somehow I knew Mary wouldn’t think an apology necessary.

“I love you,” I repeated, conviction in my voice.

“Bless that ol’ car,” Mary said with a little smile.

“What?”

“Bless that car. An’ the rain. An’ the slippery road. An’ our upendin’.” Mary was smiling broadly now, but her words made no sense at all. I wondered if she maybe was hallucinating.

“Oh, Josh!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining, “you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say those words.”

“You mean—”

“I have loved you—just
forever
,” she stated emphatically. “I began to think that you’d never feel the same ’bout me.”

I felt as if there was a giant explosion somewhere in my brain—or in my heart.
I love Mary. Mary loves me back!
She would get better. We could share a life together. I could ask Mary to be my wife.

I had to put it in words—at least some of it. “You love me?”

Mary nodded. “Always,” she stated simply.

“And I love you—so much.”

Mary nodded again, her face flushed with color.

“Then—” I began, but stopped. I hesitated. It didn’t seem fair to her somehow. Slowly I shook my head.

“No, no,” I said. “I’m not gonna ask you now. Not yet. I’m gonna court you properly. Give you a little time.”

A small question flickered in Mary’s eyes.

“But not much time,” I hurried on. “I couldn’t stand to wait long now—now that I know. And one thing you can be sure of—I’m gonna come askin’—so you’d best be ready with an answer.”

“Oh, Josh,” Mary whispered.

Doc’s timing couldn’t have been worse. I had just kissed Mary—for the first time—and found it quite to my liking. Knowing now that she wasn’t seriously injured, I drew her a little closer. Mary’s eyelashes were already fluttering to her cheeks in anticipation of another kiss, her arms tightening about my neck. I don’t know if it was the opening of the door or Doc’s “ahem” that brought me sharply back to reality, but I sure did wish he could have delayed just a few minutes more.

C
HAPTER
12
Courtship

W
HEN
I
GOT BACK down to the kitchen, Grandpa and Uncle Charlie had arrived as well as Uncle Nat. Everyone was concerned about the girls, and the talk in the room was hushed and stilted.

But I wanted to shout and skip around the room like Pixie used to do. It seemed impossible that just a half hour earlier I’d had the scare of my life. Now I was walking on air. With all my heart I wished that I could share my good news—but I knew that wouldn’t be right. Especially when Mary couldn’t be with me. Yet I was fairly giddy with my new-found love. I felt several sets of eyes on me, and I wondered if they could see right through to my heart. I fought hard for some composure.

“They’re fine,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. “Both of ’em. Only scratches and cuts and bruises and a broken leg.”

I knew that description didn’t exactly go with “fine”—but I guess the group around the kitchen table was willing to chalk it up to my relief.

“Thank God!” said Grandpa, and Uncle Nat echoed his words. Then we were all bowing our heads while Uncle Nat led us in a prayer of thanksgiving. As soon as we had finished our prayer they wanted a more complete report.

“So Miss Matilda’s leg
was
broken,” Mr. Smith pointed out with a knowing glance around the room.

I nodded.

“What else?” prompted Grandpa, referring to Matilda again. “What other injuries? Is she hurt bad?”

“Just cuts and bruises. Nothin’ that won’t quickly heal. She was worryin’ about the motor car.” I was still uncomfortable that she would even think about that when all I wanted was for the two girls to be alive and well.

“An’ Mary?” asked Uncle Charlie, his voice quivering a bit.

At the mention of Mary’s name, my heart leaped in my chest and I was sure my face must be flushing.

“She’s fine—just fine.” I couldn’t keep some excitement from creeping into my voice no matter how hard I tried. “She— she has some cuts—one above her eye, one on her arm. Lots of bangs and bruises—but not even a broken bone.” They were all so intent in their worrying over the girls that they missed my intensity. Anyway, no one looked at me like I expected them to look. They just muttered words of relief and joy and glanced at one another with a great deal of thankfulness.

“She was pinned,” insisted Mr. Smith, who must have told them that Mary, having been pinned under the automobile, could be in serious condition.

“Doc says she was lucky,” I explained. “It was mostly the sleeve of her coat that was pinned to the ground. Oh, her arm is cut some—but it could have been bad—really bad.”

There were murmurs again.

“Now, Josh, you just sit yerself right down here and drink a cup of coffee,” Mrs. Smith was saying. “You are ’most as pale as a ghost.”

All eyes turned back to me. And then the funniest thing happened. The whole world began reeling and spinning like you’d never believe. I felt myself a-reeling and spinning right along with it. But I didn’t seem to be keeping up somehow—or else I was going faster. I tried to walk to the chair that Mrs. Smith had indicated, but my feet wouldn’t work. Besides, the chair had moved. I didn’t know what was happening to me.

I guess Uncle Nat caught me. I really don’t remember. I came to my senses on Mrs. Smith’s couch with Doc bending over me and a whole cluster of people hovering near. It took me awhile to realize what was going on, and then I felt like a real ninny. I mean, it was the girls who had been hurt in the accident and here I was doing the passing out.

I struggled to sit up, but Doc reached out a restraining hand.

“Take it easy, Josh,” he cautioned. “You’ve been through quite a bit tonight.”

Was it my imagination or was there a bit of a chuckle in Doc’s voice? I remembered the scene that he had walked in on upstairs, and I felt my face flush. But no one else seemed to notice.

“Mrs. Smith is bringing some broth and crackers,” Doc said. “You probably didn’t have any supper.”

I refused to be fed like a child, though I did obey Doc and sat up slowly. Then I carefully spooned the broth with its crumbled crackers to my mouth. My head soon began to clear and things came into focus again. With the return to awareness came the recollection of my recent discovery, and I could scarcely conceal my excitement.

As soon as I was able to convince Doc that I could walk a straight line, I stood to my feet.

“Can I see Mary—the girls—again?” I asked.

“Matilda is already sleeping—and Mary might be, too. I gave her a little medicine to help. You can peek in on her—but just for a moment. You hear?”

There was a twinkle in Doc’s eyes and I caught a quick wink. I flushed and nodded, then headed for the stairs.

Mary was almost asleep when I crept quietly to her bedside.

“Doc says I can say good night,” I whispered, “but I’m not to stay long.”

Mary gave me a dreamy smile—brought on more by the sleeping powder than by my presence, I was sure.

“How are you feelin’?” I asked, taking her hand.

“Sleepy,” she murmured.

I kissed her fingers.

“You’re not backin’ out on me, are you?” I teased. “Haven’t changed your mind, now that you’ve had a little time to think on it?”

Mary tried a smile. It was weak and lopsided in her relaxed state. Fighting hard to keep her eyes open, she squeezed my hand. “You don’t get off that easy, Josh,” she teased back. “I’m holdin’ you to your word.”

I leaned over and kissed her. “I love you, Mary,” I told her again. “That’s never going to change.”

She stirred and tried to smile again. Sleep had almost claimed her.

I knelt down by her bed, my arm around her blanketed form, my other hand still holding hers.

“Go to sleep,” I whispered. “I’ll stay with you until you do.”

She moved her head so her cheek rested against mine and then she sighed contentedly. It was only moments until her even breathing told me she was sleeping soundly. I leaned to kiss her forehead before standing to my feet.

She slept so peacefully, so beautifully.
Even with bandages
and bruises, she’s the most—the most lovely girl in the world, my
Mary,
I thought. I could hardly wait for the time when she would be well and whole again—for the real courting to begin.

“Good night, Mary,” I whispered. And then after a quick look around to see if Doc was lurking in the doorway, I tried a new word I’d never used before, just to see how it sounded. “Good night, sweetheart.”

It sounded just fine.

Matilda’s folks hired a motor car to come and take her home where her mother could nurse her back to health again. Since school was nearly out for the summer anyway, they just let the kids go a little earlier than usual.