The Endearment by Lavyrle Spencer

around, she knew suddenly how much--how very, very much--she would have to learn to survive here and be any help to Karl.
    The clearing extended to the east to include tilled patches where new corn, wheat and barley sprang up. Directly opposite where the road entered, a broad avenue had been cleared of trees, and upon it lay a double track of logs with their bark removed, running up a gentle slope like a wooden railroad track, disappearing into the trees around a wide curve in the distance.
    Never did Karl Lindstrom leave this place without returning to it filled with wonder and pride.
    His sod house hovered in welcome, the vegetables seemed to have grown immeasurably in two such short days, the corn clicked in the wind as if asking where he'd been while it had been busy growing, the barn seemed impatient to gather in Belle and Bill between its bark walls. The skid trail beckoned like the road to his dreams.
    It was difficult for Karl not to throw his chest out and crow like a rooster upon seeing his place again. His place? No, their place now. His heart beat with gladness at the sight of it, and at last he let Belle and Bill have their heads and hurry the last fifty yards to the barn. When he stopped them just short of it, their heavy hooves pawed the earth, impatiently. And suddenly it was far easier for Karl to speak to his horses than to face Anna.
    Suppose she does not like it, he thought. He jerked the brake home, tied the reins to it. It will not seem to a woman what it seems to me. She will not feel the love with which I have done all this. She will perhaps see only that it is very lonely here for her with nobody near enough to be a friend to her except the boy and me.
    To the horses he said, "I think maybe you will be jealous because I make you wait, but first I must take Anna and the boy to the house." She saw Karl nervously wipe his palms upon his thighs, and read the silent plea for her approval in his eyes. Softly, he said, "We are home, Anna."
    She swallowed, wanting to say something to please him, but all that she could think of was if the outside of the house was so miserable, what was the inside going to look like? She might spend the rest of her life there. And, if not that long, at least her wedding night, which was fast coming on.
    Karl's eyes skittered to the house. He was remembering that sheaf of sweet clover and wishing to high heaven he had never put it there! It was a stupid move, he was sure now, made when he had thought to please her. It was meant as a symbol of welcome only, one which spoke not only from the heart of the man, but from his land and his home, which had no voices of their own.
    But would she know his intention? Or would she perhaps see the clover as only a decoration of a bed and the eagerness of the man to take her to it? There was little he could do about it now. It was there, and she would see it as soon as she walked in.
    He leaped from the wagon, while James went off the other side and gawked at the surroundings.
    Anna stood up, again finding Karl waiting to help her down. As usual, his shirt-sleeves were rolled up to the elbow as he raised his arms to her. She avoided his eyes and let herself swing down to his grasp. The touch of his hands on her waist made the coming night loom up before her in a formidable way. She would have turned quickly from Karl, but he gently held her, the butts of his hands resting lightly on her slim hipbones. He glanced quickly at the boy, but James was paying little attention to them.
    "Anna, do not be afraid," Karl said, dropping his hands. "It will be good here, I promise you. I welcome you to my home and to all that is mine. All of it is yours now, too."
    "I have a lot to learn and to get used to," she said. "I probably won't be good at much and you'll be sorry you brought me."
    There were things that Karl, too, had to learn and he thought with racing heart of the coming night. But, he thought, this we will learn together. "Come, I will show you