Tender Love (9 page)

 

Mark planned to arrive by six o'clock on Friday, and two hours before his arrival, Kristin and Eddie sat on the front steps watching the road for his ve
hicle. They played with the puppies crawling all over them, pulling at their clothes, but they kept alert for the sound of Mark's station wagon. Alice had decided not to be present when he arrived, and she was in the dining room setting the table when he came.

Each of them carrying a pup, the kids bounded off the porch when Mark's vehicle rounded the bend. Alice pulled back the curtain in the dining room to watch their reunion.

Mark stooped and put his arms around them, seeming to savor their kisses and the drooling tongues of the two pups. His eyes scanned the front of the house and, with a quickening heartbeat, Alice knew he was looking for her.

Landon came up behind her, having just finished shaving, and she said, “Come out and meet Mark Tanner, Uncle. You'll like him.”

“He's raised two nice kids, I'll say that for him.”

In Landon's company, Alice knew she would be less self-conscious, and her voice didn't betray her inner turmoil when they met Mark at the bottom of the steps.

“Uncle Landon, this is Mark Tanner. Landon Wilcox, my uncle.”

The men shook hands, but before they could say much, Kristin said, “We want to take a puppy home with us, Daddy. Uncle Landon said we could have one—they're old enough to leave their mother now.”

“But Alice said you'd have to decide,” Eddie said.

Mark looked at her then, and his blue eyes gleamed. “Well, thanks a lot.” To the children, he said, “I'll think about it, and then we'll have a talk. There's a lot of work involved in adopting a puppy.”

Margaret came out on the porch to greet Mark, and when the children wanted to take him to see the pony, she said, “Not until we've eaten supper. Eddie, show your daddy upstairs to the bathroom, so he can refresh himself after his journey.”

When they entered the house, and Mark saw the steep flight of steps, he looked at Alice questioningly. She nodded significantly. Eddie grabbed Mark's hand and pulled him toward the stairs. Mark looked over his shoulder at Alice and shook his head in wonder.

In a low voice, Alice explained to Landon and Margaret, “Two months ago, Eddie couldn't have climbed the steps without help, and even then, he would have gasped for breath.”

“He's stronger than when he came here,” Landon said.

“That's the reason I imposed our company on you this week. I thought a vacation on the farm would be good for both of them.”

“You're always welcome, you know that,” Margaret said.

 

Alice helped Margaret clear the table and wash the dishes while the kids took Mark to see the pony and to demonstrate their expertise in riding. Later, all of them sat on the front porch and visited. Alice sat in the swing and gently swayed back and forth, saying very little, content to let Mark and Landon do the talking. She was pleased with how well they got on together, and jubilant that Mark was relaxed, and seemingly as carefree as the children.

Hoping for a few minutes to talk with Mark about the sleeping arrangements, and while the children
were playing badminton, she said, “Before it's completely dark, Mark, you should bring in your luggage. I'll show you your room.”

“I have only one suitcase.” He walked down to the car with a jaunty step.

Walking side by side up the wide stairs, she said quietly, “I've had a bit of problem with the children at night. When night falls, it's
dark
here, and I didn't bring a night-light. The first night, they were afraid and wanted to sleep with me, and I allowed it, which was a mistake—they've accepted that as the status quo.”

“They shouldn't impose on you that way.”

“It was strange for them here, and they missed you, so I didn't have the heart to make them sleep alone.”

“You have to be firm with them.”

“I'm glad to hear you say that. You can explain that to them tonight, and I'm sure they'll hop right in their beds and go to sleep immediately. I'm a softie, and I can't be firm like you.”

He grinned at her, and his dimple deepened. “Don't be sarcastic. At least, I'll take Eddie off your hands tonight. Where do you want us to sleep?”

She turned into the bedroom Eddie had vacated on the first night. “Whew!” he said. “This
is
a big room—no wonder he was afraid.”

Alice raised the window. “The house isn't air-conditioned, and with the window open, the kids heard lots of strange insect sounds—that bothered them.”

“We'll be comfortable tonight.”

“I wouldn't count on it—Eddie kicks like a mule. If you need to hang up your clothes, there are hang
ers in the closet. Come on down when you're ready.”

Mark took her by the arm. She shook her head and moved toward the door. A look of frustration crossed his face, and he jammed his hands in his pockets.

“Words can't express how I feel about you, Alice. If I didn't care for you for yourself, I'd fall in love with you for the change you've brought about in my kids. When I consider how they were when you came to us and look at them now, it's overwhelming.”

“Everything I do for them, I'm doing for you, Mark.”

She left the room hurriedly before he could say anything more. They'd both said too much already.

 

“‘Old McDonald had a farm, ee-ii-ee-ii-oo, And on this farm he had some ducks, ee-ii-ee-ii-oo. With a quack-quack here, and a quack-quack there…'”

Jolting along the farm road in a wagon pulled by Landon's tractor wasn't conducive to good singing, but the five passengers belted out the words of the old song anyway. Landon had put a few bales of hay in the small wagon, and Margaret, Alice, Mark and the children were wedged in around the bales and two large picnic baskets, surrounded by the smell of recently fried chicken.

The wagon entered the woods, and climbed steadily along the side of the hill until they reached a wide, level clearing. Large oaks and maples over-hung the roadway, making a canopy for their travel.

“I'll spread our blankets under the trees,” Margaret said, “and we'll eat in about an hour.”

“Let's play for a while,” Alice said. “I brought the ball and bat.”

“What if I get hit in the belly again?” Eddie said, his face whitening.

Mark tousled his hair. “When you see a ball heading for your tummy, step out of the way.”

“Are you going to play, Uncle Landon?” Kristin said.

“Might as well. Margaret won't give me anything to eat until the game's over.”

After an hour of playing, they were ready for the fried chicken, vegetable sticks, baked beans and lemonade. Chocolate cake completed their picnic.

“Mrs. Wilcox,” Mark said. “Alice must have learned to cook from you. She's a great cook, but I believe your fried chicken is even better than hers—maybe you'd better give her some more lessons.”

Alice threw a carrot stick at him, which he caught and put in his mouth. “For that remark, I may let you do your own cooking again.”

“No, Alice,” Eddie said firmly. “Your food tastes better than Daddy's.”

“Well, I know when I'm beaten,” Mark said. “I'll just have to settle for mediocre chicken.” He stretched. “Hey, kids, let's take a walk through the woods.”

“You coming, too, Alice?” Eddie asked.

“Not this time. I'll keep Aunt Margaret company, for Uncle Landon will be asleep in a short time.”

When the Tanners were out of hearing, Margaret said, “What happened to Mark's wife?”

Alice leaned against the huge maple that shaded them. “She died about eight months ago, but she'd had cancer for two years before that. Mark has had a rough time, trying to take care of her and the children, especially since Eddie has been sick, too.”

“I believe the boy's come out of it,” Landon said.

“The doctor says his heart is all right now, but he's still behind physically and emotionally. We're trying to build him up so he can go to kindergarten this fall.”

“How long do you intend to stay at the Tanners'?” Margaret said.

“I don't know. I went on a month's trial, and now that I'm committed, I intend to stay as long as they need me.”

“You're sacrificing your own life for another's family. I don't know why you're doing it.”

Alice had expected Aunt Margaret to understand her reasons, but apparently she didn't.

“I haven't had such a great life the past few years. During John's sickness, I was confined to the house, and for a year, I've been at a standstill. It's a pleasure to see the Tanner children's improvement, and Gran's, too, for that matter.”

“How is Gran related to the Tanners?” Margaret asked.

“She's the children's great-grandmother, and they're the closest living relatives she has. I wanted her to come with us, but she's badly handicapped from a stroke, and she decided it was best for her to stay at home.”

“Don't get too involved with the Tanners,” Margaret advised. “It could lead to heartache.”

“Tend to your own business, Margaret,” Landon said. “Can't you see that Alice is happier than she's been for years? Let her make her own decisions.”

Alice threw her uncle a grateful glance, which he didn't see because he was flat on his back, his straw hat covering his face.

“By the way, as far as Mark knows, I have to work for a living. Please don't tell him otherwise.”

 

After supper, Landon and Margaret went to the living room to watch their favorite Saturday night television programs. Mark and Alice played badminton with the children until it was almost dark, then Alice got two small jars from the cellar and showed the children how to catch lightning bugs, and put them in the jars to make their own lights. When they tired of this, Alice took the lids off the jars, so the bugs could escape. She sat down in the swing, and Eddie snuggled down beside her, laid his head in her lap, and the gentle swaying of the swing soon put him to sleep.

Yawning, Kristin stretched out on the porch floor beside the sleeping basset hound and pups. Mark sat in a rocking chair close to Alice, and he drew a deep breath.

“It's peaceful here. When I first entered the ministry, I hoped to serve in a country parish.”

Lord, give me the right words.
“It isn't too late, Mark. It isn't difficult to find a rural pastorate, for the majority of ministers prefer to serve in cities and towns.”

Without commenting, Mark rocked slowly back and forth. “Both of the kids are asleep. Suppose we should put them to bed?”

“It's early yet. It's been hot today, so let's wait a little longer for the upstairs to cool.”

“Alice, I'd like to hear about your marriage,” Mark said quietly. “Do you mind?”

Galloping horses and the squeaking wheels of a stagecoach from the house indicated that the Wil
coxes were still engrossed in their Western show. Alice halted the swing, groping for words.

“John Larkin was thirty years older than I, and he was the father of my best college friend. I went home with Martha numerous weekends and was accepted as one of the family. Her mother had been dead several years. Right before we graduated from college, Martha was killed in an automobile accident. She was his only child, and her death devastated John.”

Alice swung back and forth for a while, and her hand on Eddie's side monitored the soft rise and fall of his breathing, as she relived that tragedy. She'd been heartbroken when Martha was killed.

“He insisted on keeping in close contact with me, and I continued to visit him. John seemed to transfer his paternal devotion to me, and I thought that was all there was to our relationship until he asked me to marry him.”

“Perhaps I shouldn't have asked. I'll understand if you don't want to discuss it. I'm not being nosy—it's important for me to know.”

She held out her hand and he caressed it tenderly while she talked.

“I was shocked at first, for I'd never thought of him romantically. I'd considered all of his attention to me as a catharsis for Martha's loss. It scared me, and I backed off—didn't see him for several months. At that time, I didn't know how important love was to a marriage, and I finally agreed to marry John. My parents had a fit—you see, John was older than they were—but they became reconciled to it. If I had the decision to make over again, I don't know what I'd do.”

“You didn't love him?”

“Not the way you mean. I respected him, and we did have a good marriage. He was very kind and considerate—I wasn't unhappy, but…”

“But?”

“It wasn't long before I knew that I wanted more from marriage, but it was too late to change. When John became ill, I had plenty to occupy my mind, and I didn't think about what might have been.”

“You're a kind and compassionate person, Alice, giving up your youth to help the father of your friend recover from her death, and you sacrificed again to nurse and care for him. In the same way, you've given up your own comfort for my family—I don't know how much you've sacrificed for us, but I'm beginning to think it's quite a lot. I've never known anyone like you, Alice.”

He'd moved his chair closer to the swing while she talked, and he lifted the hand he held to his lips.

Alice stirred under his gesture, but she withdrew her hand. The only way she could possibly continue her position as a nanny was to rebuff, or at least, discourage Mark's overtures. But to do so was the hardest thing Alice had ever dealt with, for she yearned to give him everything he needed—not only financially but emotionally. She couldn't get Erin's appraisal of Clarice out of her mind, but even if she'd been an affectionate woman before her illness, Alice surmised that it had been more than two years since Mark had experienced any tenderness from anyone—always giving out, and getting nothing in return. It was little wonder he'd despaired to the point of almost forsaking God.