The Gift of Love

by Melissa (Honey Bee)

 Part One

     Meg’s face was radiant, her fingers clasped together tightly.  “Oh, Jo!  I can’t believe he actually proposed to me!”
      Jo smiled and smoothed her hair back.  “And why wouldn’t he?  You’re a fine, lovely woman, Meg.”
      Meg lowered her eyes and smiled in embarrassment.  “Thank you.  It means a lot to hear you say that.  Mr. Trenton—Edward—said he thought I was as beautiful as an angel.  He always uses the word angel for me, but I know I’m no angel. . . . So do you!”
      Jo pressed her lips together to stop a laugh.  “You have had your moments!”
      Meg’s eyes twinkled.  “You mean like the time I stole your stockings because I loved them so much?”
      Jo nodded, but her face became suddenly serious.  “For the most part, you have been a dear, good sister.”  Jo looked down.  “I was always the one getting into trouble.”
      “Oh, but you’re a wonderful sister to me,” Meg praised in her quiet way.
      Jo blinked and forced a smile.

Nick hefted the ax and bore it down on the log.  It splintered in two and flew out from under the ax.
      His mind hardly comprehended what he was doing; his thoughts were elsewhere.
      He had noticed a withdrawing from Jo, a new sadness in her eyes.  Had he done something wrong?
      The sharp fall wind tugged at his coat, and it flapped out.  His breath puffed out in a small white cloud in front of him, and he put down the ax to warm his cheeks with his hands.  His hands were cold, too.
      “Blast it all!”
      He didn’t know exactly why he had said that, or at least not the greatest source of it.  Was it because he was so cold, because he didn’t know what was wrong with Jo, because he knew winter was coming soon, and he had not yet found the coat he was looking for to buy Jo . . . because he felt so alone?
      He looked at the pile of wood that had accumulated near the stump.  It was enough, but to him, it looked small and inadequate.  He wished he could do more for Jo.
      With a sigh, he stooped to pick up the pieces of wood, gathering them in a tower in his arms.  Briskly, he set out for the big house that glowed dimly in the evening light.

The Bible was in her dresser drawer crammed under her papers and her copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea.  Her Bible was surely buried more than twenty thousand leagues deep.  It was there just under the other things, and she read every week, even had a few verses memorized, but she knew, somewhere deep down, that she had never really understood or greatly looked forward to reading the Bible.
      She flipped open the worn cover, remembering the day her father had presented her this Bible, which had been his very own.  ‘Jo, I want you to read this and think about it often.  You can’t promise me to understand it, but you can promise me to read it regularly.’  The then eight-year-old Jo, with her black ringlets bobbing, had nodded solemnly.  ‘Yes, Papa.’
      Jo blinked and turned toward the Psalms, where her father had underlined many verses that were close to his heart.
      She had felt a heavy dread in her heart lately, and she recognized that she had been avoiding reading the Bible for days.  She knew she had to face up to herself, and now was the time.
      Her eyes were drawn to a group of underlined verses in chapter seventy-eight, and she stopped to read them, breathing heavily.
      But He, being full of compassion, forgave their iniquity, and destroyed them not: yea, many a time turned He His anger away, and did not stir up all His wrath.
      For He remembered that they were but flesh; a wind that passeth away, and cometh not again.
      Jo paused.  Tears stung her eyelids, and her lips quivered.  “God, forgive me!” she whispered.  “I . . . I know I haven’t been close to You, but I want to be!  I want to know that You’re with me! . . . I want You to forgive me.  Forgive me for not loving You . . . ”
      Two raps sounded on the door.  Jo sat up, startled.  She wiped her eyes and smoothed her dress before going to the door.
      When she pulled the door open she saw Nick standing there silently, balancing a pile of wood in one arm.
      “What is it, Nick?” she asked, trying to compose her voice.
      Nick stared at her red-rimmed eyes and cleared his voice nervously.  “I, uh . . . chopped some wood for ya.  Just thought you might like some.  It’s awful cold tonight.”
      Jo smiled faintly and said, “Thank you, Nick.  That’s very thoughtful of you.”  She reached for the wood, but Nick gripped it protectively.
      “No, I’ll do it. . . . May I come in?”
      Jo nodded silently.
      He sauntered across the room and bent down to put the wood in her fireplace.
      “Matches?”
      “Yes, um . . . here you are.”  Jo handed him a couple of wooden matches.  She stood back and watched the capable way he stacked the wood and lit the match, all confidence and ease, but with added gentleness.
      “Thank you,” Jo said, meaning it with all her heart.
      “Yer welcome.”
      Nick glanced curiously at the Bible that was open on the bed.
      “If there’s anything else I can do for ya, just tell me,” Nick spoke up, determining not to pry into Jo’s privacy, tonight.  He could tell she needed some space.
      “Thanks, Nick.  There’s just one thing I would like you to do.”  Her deep brown eyes locked with his.  “Pray for me.”

Nan skipped from the barn at the recess from school.  She smiled towards Nat and motioned him over with her head.
      Nat stuck his hands in his pockets and made his way towards her, ignoring Emil’s wry grin.
      “Nat!  Did you hear about Meg’s engagement?” Nan asked excitedly.
      “Yes.  Mrs. Jo told me.”
      “Mrs. Jo said I might get to be a bridesmaid!  Maybe you’ll get to be an usher, or something!”  She straddled a stump, not caring if it wasn’t lady-like.
      Nat’s inscrutable eyes were fixed on her, and he was smiling slightly.  “I’d like that.”
      “Aren’t you happy for Meg?  Mr. Trenton seems to be a very nice man.”
      “Yes, he does, and I am happy for Meg.”  Nat looked serious at the moment, though.  “I just can’t help thinking that Mrs. Jo doesn’t seem that happy.”
      Nan shrugged.  “You might be right.  I think she’s a little lonely.  You know she’s probably thinking about Nick.”  Nan smiled secretively.  “I think Nick’ll propose soon, though.”
      Nat smiled.  “No more matchmaking for us, Nan.  You know it didn’t work out very well with Dan and Bess.”
      “Well, we tried, anyway.”
      The two sat in silence for a moment.  Chickadees and cardinals called in the distance.  Nan pulled her coat more tightly around herself and looked up at Nat.  “What’re you thinking?”
      Nat hesitated.  “I . . . I think we should buy a gift for Jo, to make her feel better.  Maybe a coat.”
      “Yeah, that’s a good idea.  A coat,” Nan repeated.  “We can pick out the nicest coat we can find, and ask everyone for donations so we can buy it.”  Nan smiled cheerfully.  “I like your ideas. . . . Your story about the bird won the contest, remember?”
      “The bird was your idea, Nan.  You have good ideas, too, you just have to let them come.”

Part Two

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Title font is EnglischeSchT, and the story font is Book Antiqua.