Read Online [Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring by Janette Oke - Free Book Online Page A

you-you know that. I love you
very much and I do wish this hadn't happened." He spoke so sincerely
that I laid aside the brush. Maybe he wasn't so stubborn after all. I was
quite ready to make up and forgive and forget. Men didn't understand
about women's concern for how they looked, that was all. Now that
Wynn knew, there wouldn't be any future fusses on that score.
    I crossed to him and put my arms around his neck. He pulled me
down on his lap and held me close. I returned his kiss and ran my
fingers through his thick, dark hair. I loved him. He was my husband
and I loved him.
    "I'm sorry," I whispered. "Truly I am. I acted like a spoiled child
and I'm-I don't usually act so silly. I guess I was just terribly disappointed."
    He kissed me again, holding me very close. I could scarcely
breathe, but I didn't mind.

    I traced the outline of his firm jaw with a finger. "What time would
you like me to be ready?" I whispered.
    "You won't be too embarrassed at being seen in men's pants?"
    I started, then stood up, pushing away his arms.
    "Wynn," I said firmly. "I am not wearing those pants!"
    He stood up, too, and said just as firmly, "Elizabeth, if you are not
wearing the pants, then we are not going up that mountain. Do I make
myself clear? I will not take you over those dangerous trails, sweeping
along a skirt behind you. You could fall and kill yourself. It's the pants,
or not at all, Elizabeth. You decide."
    I whirled from him. How can he be so stubborn? I couldn't believe
the man.
    "Then I guess we will have to find something else to do," I said
defiantly. "I will not wear those pants. Do I make myself clear?" I
stressed every one of the words. "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing
those ugly men's pants or-those-those equally ugly heavy boots.
Not even to climb a mountain on my honeymoon with the man I
love."
    I whirled again to leave him, but Wynn caught my arm.
    "Don't fight dirty, Elizabeth," he said softly, but there was steel in
his voice and a soft sadness, too.
    The words jarred some sense into me. I couldn't believe how I was
acting. This was not the way I had been raised. In our household, the
man was always the one in charge; Mother had carefully schooled each
one of her daughters to believe that was the right way for a Christian
household to be run, and here I was-one day married-and fighting
back like a bantam hen.
    I bit my lip to stop its trembling and turned away from Wynn. He
did not release me.
    "We need to talk, Elizabeth," he said gently. "I don't think that
either of us is quite ready for it now. I'm going to take a walk-get
some air. I won't be long-and when I get back-if you are ready-"
He left the sentence unfinished and let go of my arm. I heard the door
close quietly behind him.
    I really don't know how long Wynn was gone. I only know that I
spent the time in tears and, finally, in prayer. Wynn was the head of the home-my home. Even though I did not agree with him, I still
needed to submit to his authority if ours was to be a truly Christian
home-a happy home. He had not been wrong. I had been wrong.
Deep within myself I knew I would have been disappointed in Wynn
if he had allowed me to be the victor when he felt so strongly about
my safety. I needed to be able to lean on him, to know for sure that
he was in charge. So then, why had I tried to take over? Why was mere
fashion so important to me? I didn't know. I only know that by the
time Wynn's footsteps sounded in the hall, I had worked it all out with
prayer and tears of repentance.

    I met him at the door. Considering my concern for how I looked,
I must have looked a mess, but Wynn made no mention of it. He took
me in his arms and began to kiss my tear-washed face. "I'm sorry," I
sobbed. "I'm truly sorry. Not for hating pants-I don't expect that I'll
ever like them, Wynn; but I'm sorry for getting angry with you for
doing what you thought was right for me."
    Wynn smoothed back my hair. "And I'm sorry,