Love comes softly Read Online Free PDF Page A

Mama."
    So she did remember. Marty's cold anger began to melt slowly. Maybe Missie felt about her the way she did about Clark-- angry and frustrated. She didn't really blame her for crying and kicking. She would be tempted to try it herself had not life already taught her how senseless and futile it would
    be.
    "Oh, Missie," she thought. "I knows how ya be feelin'. We'll have to become friends slow-like, but first-- " she winced, "first, I somehow has to git ya dressed."
    She arranged the clothes in the order that she would need them. There would be no hands to sort them out as she struggled with Missie, she knew. Then, she sat down and took the fighting child on her knee. Missie still threw a fit. No, it wasn't fear. Marty could sense that now. It was sheer anger on the child's part.
    "Now Missie, ya stop it."
    Marty's voice was drowned out by the child's and then Marty's hand smacked hard, twice, on the squirming bottom. Perhaps it was just the shock of it, or perhaps the child was aware enough to realize that she was mastered. At any rate her eyes looked wide with wonder and the screaming and squirming stopped. Missie still sobbed in noisy, gulping breaths, but she did not resist again as Marty dressed her.
    When the battle was over, the child dressed, and Marty exhausted and dishevelled, the two eyed one another cautiously. "Ya poor mite," Marty whispered and pulled the little thing close. To her surprise, Missie did not resist, but cuddled
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    close, allowing herself to be held and loved as they rocked gently back and forth. How long they sat thus Marty did not know, but gradually she realized that the child was no longer sobbing. Detecting the smell of frying bacon coming from the kitchen, she roused herself and used her comb, first on her own unruly hair, and then on the child's brown curls. She picked up Missie and returned to the kitchen, dipping a cloth in cool water to wash away the child's tears and also to cool her own face. Clark did not look up. There he was, doing what she should be doing again, Marty thought dejectedly. The pancakes were ready, the eggs fried, the bacon sizzling as he lifted it from the pan. The coffee steamed in their cups and a small mug of milk sat at Missie's place. There was nothing left to do but to go sit down. He brought the bacon and sat down across from her.
    She wouldn't be caught this time. She remembered that he prayed before he ate, so she bowed her head and sat silently. She sat quietly waiting. Nothing happened-- then she heard faint stirrings-- like the sound of pages being turned. She stole a quick glance upward and saw Clark sitting, Bible in hand, turning the pages to find the place that he wanted. She could feel the color rising slowly to her cheeks but Clark did not look up.
    "We read today, Psalm 121," he said and began to read. " 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.'
    Marty wished solemnly that her help would come from the hills. In fact, she'd take it from any direction. She brought her mind back to catch up to Clark's reading. She had already missed some by letting her mind wander.
    " 'The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand.
    'The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.
    "
    'The Lord shall preserve thee from evil: he shall preserve thy soul.
    " 'The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth and even for evermore.' "
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    Gently he laid the book aside on a small shelf close to the table, and then, as he bowed his head and prayed, Marty was caught off-guard again.
    "Dad-burn him," she thought, but then her attention was taken by his words.
    "Our God, fer this fine day an' yer blessin's we thank ya." "Blessin's," thought Marty. "Like a howlin' kid, spilled coffee an' a burned finger. Blessin's?"
    But Clark went on.
    "Thank ya, Lord, thet the first hard mile with Missie be travelled, an' help this one who has come to be her new mama."
    "He never calls me by my name