Page 26 of The Gift of Seeds
Their voices were as sweet as the scent of the treats. Happy, chiming, giggling, they worked toward cohesion, sounding as unlike his sisters as could be. Of course, he hadn’t known his sisters when they were small. But he doubted they had such closeness and innocent happiness when purchasing goodies—if they ever did. Desserts and candy had always been plentiful in their home.
Dale barely glanced at the two young men who left with full brown paper bags. He shifted sideways to give them a path toward the door.
The movement caused the smallest girl, probably around age six, to turn around. She gave him a sweet smile. “Hello, I’m Marta. I don’t know you.” She watched him with curiosity in delphinium-blue eyes.
Hearing her talking, the others shifted to see him.Sisters, definitely.All pretty with their blue eyes framed in long golden lashes and cheeks pink from the cold. Like his sisters, they could be described as angelic looking. Old pain stabbed. But then he noticed these girls were thinner, shabbier, and something about their open expressions….
Marta patted his arm. “What’s your name?”
“Marta!” The oldest—Inga—hissed.
The reprimand brought back many bad memories of his sisters’ annoyed corrections, and he instinctively stepped back.
Inga gave Dale a mortified look. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re still working on her manners.”
She shook her head at Marta. “To think you used to be the quiet one.” She bent closer to look into Marta’s face. “We should first be introduced to a stranger by another adult,” she said, her voice kind. “We don’t introduce ourselves to adults. We shouldn’t talk or ask questions unless the gentleman speaks to us.” She lightly placed a finger on the younger girl’s lips in a shushing gesture. “Remember, many people think children should be seen and not heard.”
The tender way the elder girl corrected the youngest, the patience she showed in explaining, astonished Dale. Until the trite ‘seen and not heard’ comment made anger burn in his throat—a reaction he remembered well from all the times he wanted to protest at the injustice in his life but didn’t dare, for fear of worse punishment.
Marta gave her sister a solemn nod before looking up at him, her eyes wide in an irresistible appeal.
He wondered if the child faced the same dilemma young Dale had with his family. If he apologized, he was often chastened for speaking when he shouldn’t “be heard.” If he kept quiet, he could be punished for the lack of an apology. The inability to know which choice to make—inevitably the wrong one—usually paralyzed him.
Just remembering made his body stiff, and his throat close up. Without being obvious, he took a breath, tried to shake off the tightness in his muscles, and cleared his throat. “I’m not so rigid.”
They crowded closer. Four pairs of expectant eyes watched him, apparently waiting for more words.
“I mean… I believe childrenshouldbe heard. At least,goodchildren,intelligentchildren like you four.”
Marta clapped her hands, crowing in obvious victory. “See, Inga! The gentleman wants us to talk to him.”
I wouldn’t go that far.
She lowered her hands and squished her face in apparent puzzlement. “Does that mean we can introduce ourselves?”
Krista, the next youngest, gave Marta a slight shove with her elbow. “The man needs to say his name first,” she said in a loud whisper.
The girls’ interest in speaking with him felt so much better than the disdain, annoyance, and indifference he’d usually experienced from his family, and he couldn’t bring himself to withdraw. But he didn’t know what to say, either.Perhaps start with my name.“I’m Dale Marsden.”
The couple at the front of the line peeled away with their box of candies and left the store.
Marta pulled a penny from underneath her mitten and held up the coin. “Mrs. Gordon gave us each a penny,” she said in awe.
Krista chimed in, “We helped clean the classroom before the Christmas holiday.”
Marta nodded with seeming self-importance. “And get everything ready for the New Year.” She leaned forward as if imparting an important secret. “We want to buy gingerbread men for Pa and Olaf, he’s our baby brother, and gingerbread ladies for Ma and Maria. We’ll have a penny left over to put in Pa’s stocking. He never buys anything for himself, even when Ma wants him to.” She giggled. “Now, he’ll have to.”
Their innocent candor, their generosity and concern for their family, the way they trusted him enough to confide in him, their sweet smiles, all bedazzled Dale.
Inga shifted her stack of books to her other arm. “Ma almost didn’t let us come to town today.”
“But we begged and begged—” Elsabe spoke at a quieter volume than her sisters “—cuz we didn’t want to miss the Christmas party at school.”
“Luckily for us, Mr. Canfield, our down-the-mountain neighbor, stopped by and told Ma and Pa he was going to town to do Christmas shopping and see Miss Bailey before she goes to stay with her family. He’s courting Miss Bailey, you see.”
Dazed as he was, Dale still nodded as if he understood.
“Mr. Canfield wanted to know if he could bring back anything for us,” Elsabe added. “Pa got all…” She straightened so tall she stood on tiptoe, thrust back her shoulders, and raised her chin. “But Ma nudged him with her elbow and asked if Marta could ride with him. He said he’d do herthreegirlsbetter, because he planned to bring his second horse to carry what he needed. Marta could ride in front of him, and I’m behind him. Inga and Krista rode the other one.”
