The Bluebird and the Sparrow by Janette Oke Page B

of furniture and kitchen items that she would like for her own little home—once her purchase had been made. It would have been so much easier to decide if she knew what her home would be like.
    Mrs. Berdette also made decisions—on behalf of Glenna. “She always favored that bureau,” she said, or, “That was her favorite chair. Remember how she used to curl up in it?” And, “That is the one thing of her father’s that she said she would treasure most.”
    And so evening by evening and room by room, they went through the house, sorting, saving, agonizing, discarding, until one by one each room was cleared and the day of the approaching sale came closer.
    “I don’t think I want to be here, dear,” said Mrs. Berdette. “Do you mind? I think I’ll just have your uncle John take me back to Granna’s.”
    Berta felt that she understood. She nodded in agreement. She really wasn’t sure if she wished to be there, either.
    “Perhaps Uncle John can store your things until you have picked your house,” her mother went on. “I know that I’ve been unfair asking you to tend to my needs before looking after your own, but I don’t know how I ever could have done it alone.”
    She lifted a hand to Berta’s cheek again.
    “It’s fine,” murmured Berta. “I don’t mind. Really. I’ll find a place soon enough.”
    But inwardly she was most anxious to get herself settled. She could hardly wait to have a home of her own.
    ———
    Berta felt agitated. The summer was slipping by too quickly. She was having a difficult time finding just the right house. It appeared that none of the homeowners of the five little “possibilities” was interested in moving. Berta felt agitated. And then, just as she felt about ready to give up, a new opportunity presented itself. It was a home that she had walked by on countless occasions and had not even considered before. But when the sign announcing that it was for sale appeared on the front lawn, Berta decided to take a closer look.
    It wasn’t perfect—but Berta decided that it would do. It didn’t have a porch swing. In fact, it didn’t even have a porch. But perhaps she could have one built on, she decided.
    She set in motion the purchasing of the little place, and when things were finally settled, she had Uncle John bring the furniture items from storage. Then she began her shopping to complete her “nest.”
    Her mother seemed to take great interest in the purchase and insisted on coming to town to take a look at the new home. Then with renewed vigor, she insisted on becoming involved in curtain sewing and decorating. Berta was surprised at her own lack of resistance. She actually welcomed the assistance. She had so little time before another winter would be upon them, and she did want to have her little place homey by the time the weather shut her in again.
    She ordered the porch—and the swing—and the builder promised her that he would have it done before the warm days of autumn left them.
    “You’ll be swinging on your porch before the leaves turn,” he promised. “Able to enjoy the fall colors from right here.” He waved his hand to indicate the empty spot where he stood—where the new porch was assigned.
    Berta nodded calmly, but inside she felt great excitement. She could hardly wait to get settled in her own place.
    So she hired the carpenter, accepted the help of her mother, and spent her short lunch breaks busily combing the shops to make her final purchases.
    Granna even got involved, sending in jars of homemade preserves from her pantry shelves to stock cupboards, and store from her garden produce to fill containers in the cool cellar. Aunt Cee sent a warm comforter and even Glenna mailed a lace runner for the buffet that had come from their shared farm home.
    Berta felt so much excitement that she could not refrain from sharing it—just a bit.
    “I’ve found a little house,” she told Miss Phillips, her voice well controlled, “so I will be