Rose sucked in her breath. Vernon Gingerich had been the bishop of the Cedar Creek district since before she’d been born. When Mamma’s cancer had returned last fall, he’d talked with her about when she’d had cancer as a young woman—so he had to know Rose wasn’t her biological child. He’d probably even met Roseanne when she’d lived with Mamma and Dat—and perhaps knew where she’d gone—
Don’t even think about that. She’s Anne Hartzler now and she wants nothing to do with you. She told you to stay away.
Chapter 4
Rose went downstairs, steeling herself for the difficult sight of the undertaker taking Mamma’s body away. Gracie’s questions and tears would make the moment even more difficult. As she stepped out onto the front porch, Vernon’s rig pulled into the yard and stopped near the side of the house. The hearse remained in the lane, however, and the driver stayed inside it.
Gracie hopped from the buggy and bounded over to Rose, her face set with childlike purpose as she grabbed her mother’s hand. “We’re gonna show ’Rusalem the garden we planted,” she insisted. “She wants to see if maybe the peas and lettuce and stuff have sprouted!”
Rose sensed she shouldn’t protest, because she noticed the same purposeful smile on Jerusalem’s face as the older woman started toward the garden plot. Vernon was making his way toward the house, removing his hat.
“We’ve made the arrangements,” he said gently. “If you’ll run along with Gracie, Parker and I can handle this part.”
Gratitude filled Rose’s heart as she waved to the undertaker, doing as Vernon suggested. Parker Conrad ran the funeral home in Morning Star, and he had overseen the preparations for Dat’s and Nathan’s funeral last fall. Once Mamma’s body was prepared, Rose would dress her in new white burial clothing, along with the apron Mamma had worn at her wedding. The visitation and funeral would be held here at the house. Rose tried not to think of all the cleaning that needed to be done—not to mention sewing Mamma’s burial dress—as she scurried to keep up with Gracie’s eager jog.
“How was your morning with Jerusalem and Vernon?” Rose asked as she managed a smile for the bishop’s wife. “I hope you were a gut little guest?”
“The best company we could’ve asked for,” Jerusalem replied. “We gathered the eggs, and Gracie counted the new chicks in the barn—”
“Thirty-eight!” Gracie exclaimed.
“—and then we made French toast—”
“And I ate two whole pieces!” Gracie crowed. “With maple surple and fried apples.”
Jerusalem stopped at the edge of the tilled garden spot, and when she held out her hand, Gracie raced over to grab it. “And we played hide-and-seek with Vernon, too, didn’t we, dear?”
“Jah, but I found him every time!” Gracie replied. “He thought I wouldn’t see him under that tarp, but his big butt was stickin’ out!”
“Gracie,” Rose chided. “This is our bishop you’re talking about. Be polite.”
Jerusalem chuckled. “She speaks the truth. Hiding isn’t Vernon’s best talent, I’m afraid. But he was a gut sport about it when Gracie found him right off.”
“See, ’Rusalem?” the little girl said, pointing to the mounded rows in the garden. “We put the lettuce on this end, and the peas down this way. Mamma said we could plant an extra-long row of those, coz they’re my favorite.”
“Nothing’s better than a bowl of creamed peas with new potatoes,” Jerusalem mused aloud. “You might see the little green shoots sprouting up by next week, warm as it’s been.”
Gracie turned to gaze up at Rose. Was it her imagination, after studying the painting of Roseanne, or did Gracie’s strawberry-blond hair look redder today?
“Know what, Mamma? Mammi went to Heaven today,” the little girl said matter-of-factly. “She’s with Jesus and Dat and Dawdi now. And when we see her in that—that box thing . . .”
“Her coffin,” Jerusalem said gently.
“Jah, her coffin,” Gracie continued, “she won’t be able to see us or talk to us coz she’s not in her body anymore. And she’s not sick anymore coz she’s in Heaven.”
Rose blinked back tears. She’d been so concerned about how to discuss these matters, yet her child had spelled it out for her instead. “You’re exactly right, Gracie,” she said softly. “I’m glad Jerusalem and Bishop Vernon explained that to you.”
“I’ll call the neighbor ladies and we’ll be here tomorrow morning to help you clean,” Jerusalem said. “We’re all in this together, Rose. Your mother was well-loved, and she’s left you and Gracie in our care.”
When Jerusalem stepped toward her, Rose entered her embrace gratefully. As she cried against Jerusalem’s sturdy shoulder, she wished this compassionate woman had been around when Mamma and Roseanne were together—but an insistent patting against Rose’s thigh pulled her out of those thoughts.
When she reached down, Gracie wrapped her little arms around Rose’s neck. Rose held her daughter close, both of them enveloped in Jerusalem’s hug. It was a sweet moment of release and relief. Behind them, an engine started. Rose closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against Gracie’s until she no longer heard the crunch of gravel beneath the hearse’s tires. When she sensed Vernon was approaching the garden, Rose eased away from Jerusalem’s arms.
“I would invite you in for a bite of something,” Rose said apologetically, “but I don’t know what it would be.”
“Cookies, that’s what!” Gracie said as she wriggled down to the ground. “We made a big pan of cherry pie bars, and chocolate chip cookies, too!”
“My word, you were busy bees this morning,” Rose said as her daughter took off toward the bishop’s rig.
Vernon smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “Gracie’s a busy girl. I suspect she’ll keep you from getting too depressed as you adjust to your mother’s passing.”
“She has a soul made of sunshine and a mind as sharp as a tack,” Jerusalem remarked as they started toward the house. “She’ll be gut company, jah, but if you need some quiet time, don’t hesitate to give me a ring, Rose.”
“You’ve already been so much help. Denki for all you’ve done,” Rose said. She crossed the porch and held the door open for Vernon and his wife—and then for Gracie, who was carrying a lidded pan chock-full of goodies. After Rose put a fresh percolator of coffee on the stove to boil, she joined the others at the kitchen table, where Jerusalem was pouring glasses of milk.
“Here, Mamma,” Gracie said, placing two cookies in front of Rose. “I put lots of chips in these, just for you.”
Rose had to chuckle. “Jah, you sure did. I think these are mostly chocolate chips and nuts held together by a bit of dough.”
“Chocolate’s gut for the soul—and they say all those antioxidants make it a health food, too,” Jerusalem teased.
When Rose bit into her cookie, the chips were still soft enough to ooze over her tongue. A sip of cold milk soothed her, too. Except for the gurgling of the percolator, the kitchen was quiet as the four of them savored their treats.
“This being Monday,” Vernon said quietly, “I’ve set your mother’s funeral for Thursday. If you’ll give us a list, we’ll call all the out-of-town folks that need contacting. Parker will have her ready for you to dress tomorrow afternoon.”
Rose’s mind filled with all manner of details she needed to see to in a very short time. “I—I hope I’ll be able to afford his fee, and the coffin and—”
“I’ll take care of those matters, Rose,” the bishop assured her. “Your mamm mentioned to me that she suspected her chemo and medications were running through your money, now that your menfolk aren’t providing an income. Our district’s aid fund will cover any expenses you have until you decide where to go . . . who will look after you.”
“Mamma, we’re stayin’ right here, ain’t so?” Gracie piped up with a worried frown. “This is our home now, coz you said so—and coz we’ve got garden growin’!”
Rose suddenly felt weary to the bone, and the thought o
f becoming dependent upon any of the men in Nathan’s faraway family tied her stomach in a knot. With a napkin, she dabbed at a blob of chocolate in the corner of Gracie’s mouth.
“Jah, this is home, sweetie,” Rose stated. She held the bishop’s gaze as best she could. “Nathan’s family—his dat and older brothers—would have a hard time providing for Gracie and me. They made some large investments in what turned out to be a swindle, and they haven’t recovered,” she explained. “And you might recall that Dat’s family resented his marrying a Missouri girl—accused him of leaving Indiana for the Borntreger family’s money. So we’ve not heard from them in years.”
“That’s how your dat told it.” Vernon reached for a cherry pie bar. “As I recall, Lydia’s folks did quite well with her dat’s furniture factory before they passed on.”
“Jah, and Mamma inherited a nice chunk of money because she was their only surviving child,” Rose replied softly. “But we’ve gone through it. We kept hoping the chemo would kill off the cancer this time, like it did when she was younger.”
“It’ll all work out in God’s gut time,” Jerusalem said, fetching the percolator from the stove. “You’ve got a lot on your plate these next several weeks, Rose. We’ll not let you girls fall through the cracks.”
“Denki,” Rose murmured gratefully.
Jerusalem nodded as she poured their coffee. “I spent the first several years of my adult life managing my own affairs—my sister, Nazareth, and I were schoolteachers,” she added with a wink, “so I know you’ll find a way to get by, Rose. You’ll figure it out.”
Rose sipped her coffee, smiling. She suspected Jerusalem’s independent streak was sometimes a challenge to Vernon’s Old Order mind-set, yet he smiled indulgently at her.
“God’s will be done,” he said before taking a big bite of his cherry pie bar.
And that’s how it’ll be, Rose thought. If I believe God will see me through, He will.
Chapter 5
After the Gingeriches left, Rose braced herself to enter the downstairs bedroom so she could tidy it. As she stepped through the door, she was grateful that either Vernon or Parker had made up the bed after they’d removed her mother’s body.
Behind her, Gracie sighed loudly. “So Mammi really is gone? Did she want to be in Heaven more than she wanted to stay with us?”
Rose reached for her little girl. “Oh, no, sweet pea, never think that your mammi wanted to leave us,” she insisted as she lifted Gracie into her arms. “But when the cancer made her stop breathing this morning, she went to a better place, where she won’t be sick anymore. I like to think she’s watching over us, looking down from Heaven.”
Gracie gazed at the ceiling as though seeking a sign that this was true.
Rose pondered how parents made up little feel-better stories to protect their children from truths they were too young to understand. She wanted to believe Lydia Fry’s soul had ascended to Heaven, but how were they to know, really? It was a matter of faith—words spoken from one generation to the next as folks they loved passed on.
Rose realized she might cave in to a grief that would render her helpless—useless—unless she got out of this room. It was tidy enough to suit her, anyway, so she set Gracie on the floor. “Let’s go to the mercantile. I need to sew Mammi’s burial dress today, because tomorrow we’ll have lots of ladies here helping us clean the house. We’re going to be very busy these next few days.”
Gracie brightened and skipped ahead of Rose. “Can we maybe get fabric for a new dress for me at the mercantile, Mamma? Or maybe some chalk and a chalkboard?” she asked eagerly. “Me and ’Rusalem—”
“Jerusalem and I,” Rose corrected gently.
“—played school and it was fun, writin’ my letters and numbers on her chalkboard. Can we, Mamma? Please?”
Once again, Rose was amazed at how many ways Jerusalem and Vernon had entertained her daughter this morning—and what a sight it was, when Gracie’s face lit up with her love of learning. “We’ll see what we can find,” she replied. She didn’t often give in to Gracie’s yearnings, because she was watching their money, but her daughter asked for so few things.
A short while later, the two of them were strolling down the unpaved road toward the Cedar Creek Mercantile, carrying a few canvas totes for their purchases. “I like to walk to town, Mamma,” Gracie said. “It’s a lot simpler than hitchin’ up the horse.”
“Especially when we’re only going after a few items,” Rose remarked.
As the county road came into view, along with the two-story mercantile, Rose realized she would have to break the news of her mother’s death when she entered the store. Preacher Sam Lambright, the proprietor, would need to know about the Thursday service because he and Vernon and their other preacher, Abe Nissley, would be preaching.
Rose’s heart clutched. Now that she’d left the haven of their home, she had to deal with her loss in public—and she hoped she wouldn’t cause a commotion by bursting into tears. She was already tired of crying, and her grieving had just begun.
Gracie jogged toward the blacktop road, stopping at its edge. “C’mon, Mamma! We love the mercantile—and maybe Sam’ll give me a stick of candy!”
Rose caught up, grasping Gracie’s hand. “Look both ways,” she instructed. “We don’t see any cars, so now we can go. And don’t pester Preacher Sam for candy, all right? It’s supposed to be a gift he gives you.”
“Preacher Sam thinks I’m special, Mamma. He likes my smile—he told me so.”
Rose bit back a laugh. It amazed her that Gracie had already learned how to charm her way into other folks’ favor. As she opened the mercantile door, Rose was glad the parking lot was almost empty and that the aisles in the dim store weren’t crowded with folks who’d want to know the particulars of Mamma’s death. The jangle of the bell above the door made the man at the front counter look up.
“Rose and Gracie, it’s gut to see you. I’m so sorry about your mamm’s passing.” Sam Lambright smiled sadly at them from behind the checkout counter. “Vernon stopped by and told us about the service on Thursday—and to make things easier for you, my mamm has offered to set up tables in her greenhouse and host the lunch afterward.”
Rose’s eyes widened. She hadn’t even thought about the meal that would follow the funeral. “But Treva’s in her busiest time of the year, selling bedding plants and garden—”
“She and Barbara and Abby are already calling gals, organizing the food,” Sam insisted with a smile. “Won’t take us long to set up tables—we’ve done it for weddings and other funerals, after all. And it’s a lot handier for folks to come here, just up the hill from the cemetery, after the graveside service instead of having to go back down the road to your place again.”
Relief washed over her. “Sam, that would be a wonderful gift,” Rose said. “I came to get fabric for Mamma’s burial dress today, because I don’t know when else I’ll have time to sew it. We’re cleaning tomorrow and—”
Sam leaned his elbows on the counter, silencing Rose with his patient gaze. “To everything there’s a season,” he reminded her, “and somehow—with the help of God and our friends—everything gets done, Rose. It’s our time to give and yours to receive.”
Rose managed a smile. “Denki, Sam. I’ll get that fabric and we’ll head back home—”
“I found the chalk, Mamma!” Gracie hurried down the center aisle of the store, pointing excitedly behind her. “And there’s cute little chalkboards, too—just like ’Rusalem’s! We’re gonna play school, Sam!”
Sam laughed as he came out from behind the counter. “I bet you’re already pretty gut at learning, too, Gracie. Will you be old enough to go to school this fall?”
“Jah! I’m ready now,” Gracie insisted. “But Mamma says I have to be six.”
“And mammas make the rules, jah? My mamm still tells me what to do,” the storekeeper remarked. He led Rose to the rear of the store, where the shelves were filled with bolts of colorful fabrics
for sewing and quilting. “Just got in a new bolt of white poly-cotton. Most gals choose that because you don’t have to iron it—just hang the dress on a hanger after you wash it.”
“I’m all for saving time and effort,” Rose agreed.
Gracie was tugging at Rose’s skirt, gazing up with wide green eyes—Eyes like Roseanne’s? she wondered. It was no time to be comparing her daughter’s looks to the painting of her birth mother, but such details would probably jump out at her now that she’d read Roseanne’s letters. “While you’re cutting me three yards of the white fabric, Gracie and I will pick out something for a little summer dress,” Rose told Sam.
Gracie jogged down the aisle, her shoes beating a quick, light tattoo on the wooden floor. “This blue is pretty,” she said, grasping the loose end of the bolt’s fabric. “It’s like the summertime sky.”
Rose agreed, yet she wondered if she was giving in to Gracie’s demands too quickly. Once the funeral was over and life settled into place again, they couldn’t spend money for anything other than necessities—and she had to reestablish the difference between want and need.
Sam smiled at Rose as she laid the bolt of blue fabric on the cutting table. “Why don’t you ladies choose your chalk and chalkboard while I finish cutting this?” he suggested as he deftly guided the shears through the white fabric, along the cutting trough. He lowered his voice as Gracie took off to find them. “They’re my gift to you—something to keep her occupied while you prepare for the funeral and need quiet time afterward.”
Rose’s mouth dropped open. “Sam, I can’t accept—I don’t need—”
“I want to do this for you, dear,” he insisted. “Gracie’s blessed with a bright mind and I want to encourage her learning—not to mention help you out. You’ve shouldered quite a load since last summer, Rose.”
Rose’s head drooped. “Denki again, Sam,” she mumbled. “I’m ever so grateful.”
You have no idea about the new load I’ve taken on, she thought as she went down the aisle to help Gracie. Her daughter was pointing to a small charcoal-colored board.
A Mother's Love Page 3