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Overview
Two beautiful stories—gifts from the heart of immeasurable value.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781598567236 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Hendrickson Publishers, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 04/18/2021 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 77 |
| Sales rank: | 548,888 |
| File size: | 898 KB |
Read an Excerpt
Nana's Gift & The Red Geranium
By Janette Oke
Hendrickson Publishers Marketing, LLC
Copyright © 1996 Janette OkeAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-59856-723-6
CHAPTER 1
The Plan
The chiming of clocks having long since replaced the duties of a town crier, the mantel clock in the living room began its announcement. The man seated at the kitchen table, bent over the papers and the ledger scattered before him, lifted his head and counted without conscious thought. Twelve chimes. This time the last note signaled not just a new hour but a new year. Another year gone by. It seemed they passed so quickly. Much faster than when he was a younger man.
Not that he was old. Fifty-one was not old. But a long day in the fields wresting a living from the sometimes stubborn soil made him realize that he was slowing down. He didn't have the drive—the push—that he'd had in his younger years. The will was still there. But it was more determination than energy that now ran his days.
He sighed, then nodded as though in agreement, head tipped slightly, as the last stroke for the midnight hour faded. From now on, each minute ticked away by the mantel clock would already be spending the precious wealth of time in another year.
Had Lizzie heard the clock? Did she know that a new year had begun? Was she listening for his footsteps that would bring him to their bed?
It had been his little ritual ever since they had first married—this staying up to figure out accounts on the last evening of the year. At first Lizzie had protested. New Year's Eve was a time for merriment. For celebration, she'd insisted. For looking back on the year past and being thankful for the good—and there had always been things to be thankful for—and reaching forward into the New Year, hoping that life would be just a little easier. That the good, through the grace of God, would outweigh the difficult. That was Lizzie's reasoning.
But Duncan had responded that this—this accounting—was his way of doing that. He didn't suppose that Lizzie understood. But as he went through the pile of bills and noted that he had somehow managed to pay them off one by one, though often with great difficulty and much perseverance, he was filled with such a sense of thankfulness and even peace that he worshiped—and, yes, celebrated—as he made the entries in the bulky worn book that he referred to as the farm ledger. And because of the goodness of God in the past, he always had confidence as he faced the future. The year that was just beginning.
He fastened the pile of paid bills together with a clip and deposited them in the metal box that served as his bank. He did not use the local financial institution. His own system worked just fine. Everything was kept in the worn metal box that had long since lost most of its dark red paint from many years of handling. Each compartment was carefully organized—paid accounts here, unpaid accounts there, change in the upper left corner, bills on the lower left. Then the ledger itself would be slightly curled, to make it fit, and tucked away on top. Everything was there. He knew at a glance just where his accounts stood.
And tonight. Tonight the accounts were all paid, the money for the next month set aside in the left-hand compartment, and there still was a small pile of bills and change left before him on the table.
He smiled as he reached for it. It would be added to his little stash. Even Lizzie, who knew all his secrets, did not know about the lower compartment in the metal box, nor of its contents. He had been carefully hoarding. Squirreling away a special fund little by little over the years that they had spent together.
The secret account had not grown as quickly as he would have liked. He had hoped to have enough saved by the time their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary arrived. But that had come and gone and he still was short. Now he was hoping for their thirtieth. But the pile of bills and coins was growing so slowly. If their finances did not improve, he feared that he might not meet that goal either. They had already celebrated their twenty-eighth, so he had only two more years to go. At one point this last year he had dared to think he could add a sizable amount at his New Year's Eve accounting. The crop had been good. There had been no unexpected medical expenses or machine repairs. But then a missionary had come to their church, and it had seemed right and good to contribute toward the funds that were needed to help the man get to the place of God's calling. Duncan had dipped even deeper than he normally did in order to support the cause—so the pile for the year was small again.
Slowly he lifted the tray and set it aside. He reached in for the envelope that held his little hoard of bills and change. It was another yearly ritual, this counting of the secret account. A time of elation—and sorrow. For as much as he was thrilled with what he had been able to save toward his goal, he always felt a bit disheartened as he recalled the distance remaining.
It had all begun on their honeymoon. Lizzie had been so young then. Young and vibrant and beautiful. She was still beautiful in his eyes. Perhaps even more so. The appealing bounce and naivety had been replaced by a serenity and devotion. He loved his Lizzie. She had stood by him through the good and the bad. And their years together had held both. But Lizzie—Lizzie had helped him to weather those years. Smiling through tears at the wonder of their firstborn. Nursing their children through childhood illnesses. Clinging to him at the graveside of their infant son. Beaming with each accomplishment of their five offspring. Taking into an already crowded household his aged father when he was left as a widower benumbed by grief. Looking radiant as the mother of three young brides. The years with Lizzie had been good years. Even the struggles and setbacks had been times of growing together.
But he had never forgotten their honeymoon. They had been walking. Window-shopping, Lizzie had called it. They passed window after window with Lizzie often stopping to ooh and ahh over this or that in a display. She seemed to take pleasure in looking at all the things she did not have. He could not really understand her little game. It seemed to him at the time that she should feel some kind of sadness over the fact that she had married a simple farmer and would likely never have any of the fancy things that were drawing her exclamations. But Lizzie had not looked sad. Just enthusiastic and excited by life. There was no sign of longing in the dancing eyes. "Would you like that?" he had asked at one point as they stood together while she oohed over a gleaming enameled kitchen range. She looked startled by his question. "Why?" she responded innocently. "We already have a stove."
They had a stove. An old, worn-out blackened thing that had been his grandmother's.
But that was Lizzie. She didn't have a self-centered or coveting bone in her body. And that was when he decided. Someday, as soon as he could manage it, he'd get her something really special. Something that she could be proud to own. Something that would speak of her true worth—and his deep love.
At the time he was sure it would take only a few years to save the money needed. Five, if things went well. Maybe ten. Then he would look for that special something. Some object that Lizzie could treasure.
But the children came, one by one, and there were tough years with scant crops. Lizzie never complained. The years rolled by, and she still did not have pretty things—nice things. But she was content to work along with him, smiling her encouragement, silently willing her strength when the load got especially heavy. Unaware of the hidden secret in the metal box.
He stirred himself from his reverie and added the year's small savings to the pile and placed it tenderly back in the envelope. Not this year. He was still quite a few dollars short. But if God was pleased to grant them two good years, perhaps he would be able to make that thirtieth anniversary.
Gifts
He knew—had known for some time now—what the gift would be. He had been walking by Sam's Fine Gifts one day when he spied it in the display window. A string of perfectly formed pearls. He stood and gazed at the pearls for a long time, thinking about the story that Jesus told of the pearl of great price and the man who had sold everything to purchase it. Why would anyone want a pearl that badly? he asked himself silently. It didn't make any sense. Selling all one had—good farmland—to purchase pearls. Foolish idea.
But he couldn't get the pearls from his mind. And then one day as he was milking, leaning his forehead against the warm side of Daisy the Holstein cow, it suddenly came to him that maybe Lizzie would understand. Maybe the string of pearls was just the right gift for her. The more he thought about it, the more the idea grew on him.
He walked by that window dozens of times before he got up the nerve to go in. "How much is that string of pearls in your window?" he had casually asked Sam. He was stunned at the answer and left the shop with his head spinning. It was impossible. It was ridiculous. Why, a man could purchase ... But the idea wouldn't go away. These pearls were special. The price told him that. He remembered joking to himself that he sure hoped he wouldn't have to "sell all that he had" to make the purchase. He chuckled inwardly and wondered if the farm would be worth as much as the pearls.
Months passed. He kept his eye on the string of pearls, fearful that someone else would buy them before he had saved enough.
At last he ambled into Sam's again.
"See you still have those pearls," he commented in what he hoped was an offhand manner.
Sam shook his head. "Shouldn't have brought them in," he said, and his shoulders drooped. "Not much call for pearls in these parts. Times have been hard. Folks need to use their money for more sensible things."
Duncan nodded and pretended to be studying a display of gold wedding bands.
"Maybe you need to mark 'em down some," he observed, tipping his head slightly to try to catch a bit of the light from the window on the display case.
"Pearls aren't items that go on sale much," Sam had responded. "And even if I did mark them down a bit, they'd still be too rich for the pockets of folks around here."
Duncan nodded again, took one more look at the plain gold bands, and left the store with a polite farewell and a sinking heart.
Several months passed before he headed for the store again. This time he was determined that the pearls would be Lizzie's. His heart beat nervously when he noticed they were no longer in the window. He shuffled slightly as he spoke to Sam. "See you've sold the pearls."
But Sam shook his head. "Took them from the window and put them in the vault," he replied. "No sale for them anyway, and sitting out like that isn't good for them."
Duncan sucked in his breath, relief washing over him. Lizzie's pearls were still safe. He steadied himself and spoke slowly, carefully. "Been thinking," he began. "Those pearls would look mighty nice with Lizzie's blue Sunday dress."
He flushed after the remark. That was a silly thing to say. By the time he saved enough to purchase the pearls, Lizzie's present Sunday dress would be a thing of the past.
He straightened then and looked Sam directly in the eyes. "What I'm saying is, I'd like to buy Lizzie the pearls. But I don't have the funds saved up—just yet. I was wondering if you could—sort of—hold them until I get the money together."
Sam looked startled, but at length he nodded, and eventually even smiled in relief. He was pleased to be finding a sale for his ill-advised investment.
Quickly the businessman in Sam turned to longtime friend. "Look, Duncan," he said, clearing his throat. "That's a ... a lot of money ... when times are tough. I—if you'd like—I can order in another string. One that isn't so ... so expensive."
Duncan must have looked puzzled. He had no idea that one could get pearls that were less expensive. Sam had already told him they were not an item that went on sale as a rule.
"Pearls come in different quality. Different color," Sam had gone on to explain. "That string—well it's top quality. I never should have brought it in. At the time it—well—there was that banker who liked to spend money, and then everyone round these parts was talking mining. If we'd had a strike here the way it looked like we might for a while—I guess greed sort of ... Well, anyway, I can get you another."
But Duncan quickly cut in. He wouldn't even think of getting Lizzie pearls that were inferior.
"These are just fine," he stated with finality. "It'll just take a bit longer, that's all."
"They should be restrung," Sam observed in knowledgeable fashion.
"Restrung?"
Sam then went through a lengthy explanation of the worth of each pearl and how one had to use care in ensuring that the string would never break, thus placing any one of the costly pearls in danger. Duncan caught very little of the explanation but was relieved when Sam ended by saying that he would hold the pearls, and when the time came for purchase he'd care for the cost of restringing himself. With the matter settled, Duncan laid out his small hoard of money as the down payment, and the pearls were secured in the vault for Lizzie. Duncan left the store with a feeling of exhilaration. Now all he had to do was to save up the rest of the money.
But he'd had no idea how long that would take and at such great difficulty.
Slowly the years had ticked by. Now and then he dropped in to Sam's to lay a bit more money on the counter and sheepishly assure him that he was still saving toward the pearls. Sam had been good about it. Duncan had to admit that. But the man must have had his doubts whether the final sale would ever take place.
As the mantel clock chimed twelve fifteen, Duncan's thoughts were jerked back to the present. He fingered the envelope as he tucked it safely in its sheltered spot. Two more years. Would that really be enough?
Lizzie
Lizzie stirred, one hand reaching out to the pillow beside her. It was empty—cool to her touch. Duncan had already left their bed.
Choring, her mind managed to reason. Reluctantly and slowly she began to untangle herself from the delights of sleep. Duncan, who always jumped out of bed with thoughts and feet racing, had often teased her through the years about her difficulty in waking with each new day. Even in her bemused state the remembrance of the teasing brought a smile.
"Chores," she said aloud. "It seems that a body should be able to rest from chores for at least one day of a lifetime."
But today would not be the day. Today the chores would demand Duncan's time just as they had done every morning of their married life. It did not matter that today marked their thirtieth anniversary. Thirty years. That seemed like such a long, long, short time. She could hardly believe it. Had no way to really tally it. The years had sped by—and yet she was hard put to remember what life had been before Duncan.
They had been good years. Not easy years—but good. She smiled again as she thought of their two manly sons and three grown daughters. They were all married now. All settled and on their own. The thought brought tears to her eyes. She was proud of each one and happy to release them—but it was lonely at times. She missed them. Missed the noise and confusion of a bustling household. Missed the teasing and coaxing and even the testing of parental boundaries.
But the new kind of relationship with their children brought blessings as well. Stella was hosting the anniversary dinner. Lizzie knew that Jewel and Addie would help, and Luke's Mary and John's Cecily would also give a hand. It was nice to just relax and look forward to the special time with all the family. She curled up and prepared to enjoy just a few more moments reflecting as she snuggled in the warmth of the cozy comforter.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Nana's Gift & The Red Geranium by Janette Oke. Copyright © 1996 Janette Oke. Excerpted by permission of Hendrickson Publishers Marketing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Copyright,A Note to the Reader,
Nana's Gift,
Dedication,
The Plan,
Gifts,
Lizzie,
Anniversaries,
Weddings,
Nana & Beth,
Beth and the Pearls,
The News,
Questions,
The Legacy,
Homegoing,
The Red Geranium,
Dedication,
One,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Five,
Six,
Seven,
Eight,
Nine,
About the Author,
