When Comes the Spring (Canadian West Book #2) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Janette Oke

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118 pages

English

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Description

Elizabeth, the cultured young schoolteacher from the East, has braved the western frontier and spent a year teaching in a one-room schoolhouse. How she and Wynn are planning their wedding and their new life together at his outpost in the far north. While Wynn is accustomed to life in the north, Elizabeth is not. Can their love for each other sustain them through a harsh winter, loneliness, and rigors of life without any of the conveniences they're used to? Book 2 of the bestselling Canadian West series.

Sujets

Christianity

Sagas

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 février 2005
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781585587247
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0202€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

© 1985 by Janette Oke
Published by Bethany House Publishers 11400 Hampshire Avenue South Bloomington, Minnesota 55438 www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
E-book edition created 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-5855-8724-7
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
Dedicated with love to my patient and peace-loving fourth sister, Margie L. Wiens, and to her equally easygoing husband, Wilf. I love you both.
Contents
1. Days of Preparation
2. Good News and Bad News
3. Stepped-Up Plans
4. Preparing
5. The Wedding Day
6. Marriage
7. Banff
8. Mountain Lake
9. Back to Calgary
10. The Journey Begins
11. Onward
12. By Wagon
13. The Last Day on the Trail
14. Home
15. Making a Home
16. Neighbors
17. Adjustments
18. Teas and Such
19. Friends
20. Change of Direction
21. The Storyteller
22. Studies
23. Winter
24. Settling In
25. The Storm
26. Aftermath
27. Village Life
28. March
29. Nimmie
30. Making Do
31. The Watchful Eye
32. Traps
33. Spring
About the Author
Books by the Author
Synopsis When Calls the Heart
Chapter One
Days of Preparation
“Is it done yet?”
It must have been at least the tenth time that my young niece, Kathleen, had asked the question in the last few days.
“No,” I answered patiently, “not yet.”
She stood silently beside me, her favorite doll dangling lopsidedly from her arms.
“How come it takes so many times to make a wedding dress?” she asked again.
Much time, the schoolteacher in me silently corrected her. Aloud I said without lifting my eyes from the needle moving smoothly in and out of the creamy white satin, “Because a wedding dress must be perfect.”
“Per-fect?” queried Kathleen.
“Um-hum. That means ‘just right’ for the man I’m going to marry.”
“Dee’s not gonna wear it.” Her voice boded no argument.
I lifted my head and chuckled softly at Kathleen’s perplexed look. It sounded as if Wynn’s nickname was still firmly in place.
“No, he won’t wear it. But he is going to see me wear it, and I want it to be just right.”
Kathleen stood there stubbornly, now a look of frustration on her pixie face.
“He won’t care,” she said with feeling. “Daddy said that Mama would’a looked beau’ful in an old ’tata sack.”
I laughed and drew Kathleen to me. “Maybe you’re right,” I said, pushing back a soft curl from her forehead. Her eyes told me that something else was troubling her. I decided the dress could wait for a few minutes. Checking to see that I had left the sewing machine foot in proper position and the precious folds of satin material carefully placed on the tissue paper spread beneath them, I rose from the chair. My back ached and my shoulders felt cramped. I needed a break. Perhaps I should have done as Mother had suggested and arranged for Madam Tanier to sew my dress after all. I had wanted to sew my wedding gown myself, but I had had no idea what a big job it was going to be. I took Kathleen’s tiny, somewhat sticky, hand in mine and led her to the door.
“Why don’t we take a little walk around the garden?” I asked her.
The shine in her eyes was her answer. She wedged her flopping doll under one arm and skipped along beside me.
We walked through the garden together. The early flowers were already in bloom. As I looked at them, I found my mind rushing ahead to the wedding planned for the first part of September, and I wondered what flowers would be available. That was another decision that had to be made. Oh, my! Was there no end to them? It seemed that ever since Wynn had asked me to become his wife, I had been making one decision after the other some big and some not-so-big. As my thoughts turned to Wynn, I smiled to myself. How fortunate I was to be engaged to marry such a man. He was everything a girl could ever desire his height, his bearing, his smile, his quiet self-assurance, his caring. And he loved me ! I would have gone on and on daydreaming but Kathleen interrupted me.
“Mama’s gonna make my dress.”
I nodded.
“Have you seen the color?”
I nodded again, remembering the hours Mary and I had spent poring over materials and styles, debating and deciding. Both Kathleen and Sarah were to be in my wedding party.
“ It’s gonna be perfect, too,” insisted Kathleen.
“Yes,” I agreed. “With your mama doing the sewing, it’s going to be perfect, too.”
“Mama is already done Sarah’s dress.”
There was silence while I studied the soft shades of a garden rose. These colors would be just right, I was thinking, but will they still be blooming in September? I must ask Mary. But again Kathleen interrupted my thoughts.
“How come I’m last?”
“Pardon?” My busy mind had not followed Kathleen’s line of wondering.
“How come I’m last? Sarah’s dress is already made, but Mama has just started mine.”
I looked at her anxious face. It was an honest question but, for such a small girl, a troubling one.
“Well,” I stammered, reaching for some satisfactory explanation. “Well . . . your dress will be ready in no time. Your mama is a very good seamstress and a very efficient one. It doesn’t take her long at all to sew a dress even a fancy dress like she will be making for you. Your dress will be ready long, long before September gets here. In fact, your dress will be ready long before mine will, I’m sure. So yours won’t be last . . . mine will.”
Kathleen’s eyes had not left my face as I spoke. She seemed to relax with my final words. Her breath escaped in a soft little sigh.
“You’re slow, all right,” she agreed solemnly. “I’m glad Mama’s fast.”
Then her thoughts turned in another direction.
“Why is Mama making the dresses so quick?”
“So soon? Because your mama has so many things that she wants to do, and the dresses are one thing that she can do now.”
“What things?”
“Well, she is planning the reception dinner. And she wants lots of time to get ready for Grandma and Grandpa. And she has some redecorating she wants to do. And she plans to give the house a thorough cleaning . . .”
I continued thinking of poor Mary and all of the work that my coming wedding was causing her. How I loved her! It wasn’t one bit necessary for her to fuss so, but she insisted. After all, it would be the first time her in-laws would be in her home and she, too, wanted everything to be perfect.
“Is Grandma fuzzy?” asked Kathleen seriously.
“Fussy?” I smiled but did not let Kathleen know her word had come out wrong. “Well, yes and no. Grandma likes nice things, and when she is in charge she tries very hard to see that everything is just right. But she does not judge other people by the same rules she uses on herself.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means that Grandma loves people as they are. She doesn’t ask for everyone to be perfect or to live in perfect houses.”
“It’s gonna be fun to see Grandma,” Kathleen enthused.
My eyes misted and I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes, it will,” I said softly. “It will be just wonderful.”
But it still seemed such a long way off. The folks would not be arriving in Calgary until just before our September tenth wedding, and this was only the middle of July.
“Would you like to swing for a minute?” I asked the now quiet Kathleen, to get my thoughts back to safer ground.
She grinned at me, and I took that for her answer. Kathleen loved the swing.
“The tree swing or the porch swing?” I asked her.
“The porch swing,” she quickly decided. “Then you can sit by me.”
We settled on the porch swing and set it in motion with the rhythm of our bodies. Kathleen cuddled up closely against me and rearranged the dangling doll into a more baby-like position. I realized then that she had been missing personal attention. With my thoughts all concentrated on the upcoming wedding, and even Mary wildly involved in the preparations, we had both subconsciously pushed the youngsters aside. I determined that in the days ahead I would be more sensitive and considerate. I pulled Kathleen closer to me and held her such a precious little thing. We swung in silence for many minutes. My mind went to the other children. Were they feeling the strain of the busy household as well?
“Where is Sarah?” I asked Kathleen.
“She went to Molly’s house. Molly’s mama is letting them make doll dresses out of the scraps from Sarah’s new dress.”
Good for Molly’s mama, I thought, but no wonder Kathleen has been wandering around feeling left out.
“And where’s William?”
“Daddy took him down to the store. He’s gonna help pile things. He even gets money for it.” Kathleen squirmed to look at me, her envy showing on her face. “William thinks he’s big,” she said with some disgust. “He’s gonna save the money and buy a gun that shoots little roun’ things.”
Kathleen curled up her short fingers to demonstrate the little round things. Then she ventured some more information. “An’ Baby ’Lisbeth is sleepin’. She sleeps most all the time. An’ Mama is sewing. Not for me for Baby ’Lisbeth. An’ Stacy said that the cookie jar is already full, so we can’t bake any more cookies.”
My arm tightened about her. Poor little dear, I thought, but I didn’t say it. Instead I said, “How would you like to take the streetcar uptown and stop at the ice cream parlor?”
The shine was back. “Could we?” she cried. “Could we, Aunt Beth?”
“I’ll ask your mama.”
Kathleen clapped her hands in her excitement and then threw her arms around my neck. I felt the combs holding my hair in place being pushed all askew.
“Let’s go check,” I said. Kathleen jumped down and quickly ran ahead of me to find Mary.
By the time I had entered Mary’s sewing room, Kathleen was already