“Jah, you’re embarrassing me as much as you are poor Matthias. Let’s get back to work, Ruthie.” Gail smiled apologetically at him. “You can bring the dishes to the store when you’re finished. We’ll leave you in your peace and quiet now.”
Matthias chuckled as the girls strode down the dirt road, their lavender skirts swishing and their kapp strings drifting on the breeze. Gail was giving her sister a talking-to, while Ruthie was stubbornly looking the other way. He gratefully gulped the cold lemonade and set the plate of treats on the back of the wagon bed.
“What do you think, Ed?” he asked when his horse glanced at him. “It’s a gut thing we’re moving to Morning Star, instead of Cedar Creek, jah? Sam and his girls seem determined to fix me up with Rose, no matter what Rose and I might think.”
Ed nickered, showing his big teeth in a mocking grin. Matthias took it as a sign that the jokes and teasing were just beginning. It was probably best that he had no inclination to attend Lydia Fry’s funeral. Whatever gossip and romantic remarks the Lambrights might spread would fall flat if he simply stayed out of the picture, away from Rose Raber.
After he’d eaten a couple cookies and a soft, chewy cinnamon roll, Matthias finished digging the grave. He put the last shovelful on the tarp laden with soil—men with equipment from the funeral home would move it before the graveside service—and hopped onto his wagon. When he slipped inside the mercantile to return the pitcher and plate, he was glad to see that Sam was busy with a customer in the plumbing department.
Matthias drove back to Willow Ridge, happy that he’d done a good deed for Rose—and that he had so many things to fix at his new place, he’d have no reason to return to Cedar Creek anytime soon.
Chapter 7
As Rose walked slowly behind the horse-drawn hearse on Thursday, she felt exhausted, lost in a blur of suspended time and motion. The sky was a bright blue with wisps of white clouds, the grass alongside the road was deep green, and the redbud trees were loaded with purple-pink blooms, but the beauty of the day was lost on her. She felt emotionally drained and dead on her feet as she went through the motions of this difficult ritual.
Somehow in the past couple of days, she’d sewn her mother’s burial dress, accepted the cleaning help of every woman she knew in Cedar Creek, and survived the ordeal of dressing Mamma’s body and sitting beside her plain pine coffin while a huge crowd came to the house to pay their respects Wednesday evening. Her refrigerator and kitchen counters were overflowing with food the neighbors had brought. Local men had set up the pew benches and readied the house for the funeral. Rose couldn’t recall much of what Bishop Vernon and Preacher Sam had said during the funeral service, but she was grateful for all the people who were supporting her with their presence.
Hang on for a few hours more, she repeated to herself. After the funeral lunch, I can go home and collapse.
Rose was grateful that Gracie had taken on the solemnity of this somber occasion rather than firing off curious questions or fidgeting during the service. Her daughter’s hand, so small and warm, was the only tangible hold Rose had on reality as she led the other mourners on her mother’s journey toward eternal rest. The folks in black behind her remained silent, walking two or three deep as they entered the cemetery.
“Look, Mamma—sheeps!” Gracie whispered, pointing toward the flock on the grassy hillside that adjoined the cemetery. “Are they the lambs of God, Mamma?”
Rose found a smile. “Those are Matt Lambright’s sheep, sweetie,” she replied softly, “but, jah, they’re God’s lambs, too. Just like you are.”
As she and Gracie passed Nathan’s and Dat’s grassed-over graves, Rose’s heart hitched—but the sight of the gaping hole beside Dat nearly undid her. The funeral home had provided a device to lower the coffin, but the braces and straps did little to disguise the grave that would soon swallow her mother. To keep from unraveling, Rose lifted her daughter into her arms and positioned herself where she could see those fleecy white sheep on the hillside, so serene and peaceful. She focused on the flock—spotted two black-and-white dogs keeping watch beneath the blooming dogwoods—as six men bore the coffin to the grave and placed it on the wide straps.
“Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,” Bishop Vernon intoned in a voice that reverberated in the crowd’s stillness. “We commend the body of our sister Lydia to the ground and her soul into Your care, O Lord. . . .”
Rose closed her eyes against hot tears, resting her head against Gracie’s. The bishop’s remaining remarks drifted around her, unheard, until she felt Vernon’s hand on her arm.
“Come, Rose. We’ve finished with the graveside formalities,” he whispered near her ear.
Rose blinked, suddenly aware that everyone else was watching her. Vernon offered his arm and she took it. She set Gracie on the ground and grasped her hand as Jerusalem walked on the other side of her daughter, away from the coffin poised above its grave.
Do they think I’ll collapse without their support? Rose straightened, determined to carry on as Mamma would expect, while they walked the short distance up the hill to Treva’s Greenhouse. The women in Sam’s family would be serving the meal prepared in the nearby café. Countless other women had baked pies and bread after they’d cleaned her house on Tuesday.
Rose sighed. How could she possibly repay the kindness her friends had shown these past few days? She was too numb to think about it. Rose squeezed Gracie’s hand, focused on putting one foot in front of the other until she got inside the greenhouse. She would fill a plate—mostly so Gracie could eat, because she herself couldn’t possibly force any food down—and then sink into a chair . . . accept condolences by nodding and murmuring her thanks—
“Matthias!” Gracie suddenly cried, waving excitedly. “Matthias, hi! It’s me, Gracie!”
Rose cringed, following the direction of her daughter’s finger—as was everyone else in the procession. Sure enough, the man she’d run into in the mercantile was standing outside the greenhouse, studying the tomato and green pepper plants displayed on tables alongside the glass building.
Surely, Matthias knows the greenhouse is closed today for the funeral. If he’s shopping for plants, why is he dressed in black trousers, a vest, and a white shirt? He wasn’t at the house for the service—
When Gracie tried to wiggle free, Rose held her daughter’s hand more tightly. “Gracie, hush,” she murmured, “and don’t you even think about—”
With a determined surge of energy, Gracie escaped Rose’s hold. “Matthias! It’s gut to see you!” she blurted as she raced toward him.
Walking beside Rose, Vernon chuckled. “Gracie’s done very well today, Rose,” he said.
“All that pent-up energy’s got to get loose or she’ll likely explode with it,” Jerusalem remarked. “And it seems Matthias is as happy to see Gracie as she is to see him. Nice fellow, Matthias is. Got to know him when I lived in Willow Ridge, before I married Vernon.”
Rose sighed. What would her neighbors think about her and Gracie chatting with a strange man? As she approached the greenhouse, she noticed Matthias had crouched to chat with her little girl—and he was gazing at her over the top of Gracie’s kapp, his eyes full of questions and concern. There was no way around it. Rose had to speak with Matthias—hopefully, without everyone in the crowd eavesdropping.
“You folks go on inside,” she urged Vernon and Jerusalem, including everyone else in her gesture. “Get your food while it’s hot. We’ll be in shortly.”
Vernon went up to Matthias with his hand extended. “What a pleasure to see you here, son,” he said. “I trust all’s well in Willow Ridge this week?”
“Jah, far as I know. I’ve spent most of my time in Morning Star.” Matthias stood up, smiling, as Vernon pumped his hand—and as Gracie wrapped her arms around his legs—but he was looking at Rose as he responded.
“I—I almost didn’t come today,” he said apologetically, “but I realized that sorrow touches every one of us during our lives, so I wanted to be here. To be
a friend.”
“You and me, we’re gut friends, Matthias!” Gracie piped up. “Let’s go in and get dinner. I’m starvin’ and you gotta sit with me, okay? Please, Matthias?”
Rose wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Her cheeks prickled. The last thing she wanted was to make small talk with this out-of-towner while her neighbors looked on . . . no matter how earnest and sincere he appeared. But if she brushed Matthias off—pretended that she needed to sit with other folks—Gracie would put up a fuss. And that scene would embarrass Rose even more.
“Nice to see you, Matthias,” Gail Lambright said. She waved at him and then headed through the greenhouse door with the others.
“It was nice of you to dig Lydia’s grave, too,” Ruthie put in before ducking back into the line behind her sister.
“We’ll catch up with you later, Matthias.” With a knowing smile, Vernon took Jerusalem’s arm and eased into the flow of the crowd that was entering the glass-paneled building.
Rose swallowed hard. There was no way around talking to Matthias now. “I—I had no idea you dug Mamma’s grave,” she mumbled as her heart began to pound. “What a kindness you’ve done for us. Denki so much.”
Matthias shrugged, still holding her gaze. “You weren’t figuring on me being here to eat, so if you think there won’t be enough food—or if you’d rather I didn’t stay—”
“You can share my dinner, Matthias!” Gracie blurted. “Let’s get lots of chicken and mashed taters, okay?” She gazed up at him adoringly, still embracing his legs.
Rose sighed, hoping she didn’t appear ungrateful. “No, no—there’s more than enough food,” she insisted. And because she saw no graceful way around it, she added, “We’d be pleased if you’d sit with us, Matthias. Gracie has been very quiet and respectful today. She’s ready to see a smiling face and talk about something besides her mammi’s passing.”
When Matthias opened his arms, Gracie reached up for him. He lifted her to his shoulder effortlessly, comfortably, as though he did this sort of thing on a daily basis.
“You, um, have kids of your own?” Rose asked as they went to the end of the serving line. She knew next to nothing about this man, so maybe she should be asking questions—before Gracie became so enamored of Matthias that there’d be no pulling her away, no matter what she might learn.
“My wife, Sadie, was carrying our first one when she passed,” Matthias murmured sadly. Then he smiled at Gracie, eye to eye with her. “But my brother’s got new twins now, and his wife’s three little brothers and little sister—close to your age, Gracie—live with us. Plus Annie Mae’s sister, who’s a teenager. Having so many kids around keeps me on my toes.”
Gracie giggled. “I wanna see you on your toes, Matthias.”
“Maybe not now,” Rose insisted before her daughter got too carried away. She was amazed at how happy Gracie looked, as though she’d known Matthias for years—Or as though he were Nathan. She’s not been this bubbly since her dat passed last summer.
Recalling how her husband had held Gracie high above his head to make her giggle uncontrollably, Rose sucked in her breath. They had almost reached the serving line, where the women were dishing up pieces of golden-roasted chicken, creamy mashed potatoes with chicken gravy, fried apples, green beans, and coleslaw—even as they were gawking at her and speculating about Matthias.
Rose forced herself to appear normal. She took two plates from the stack and grabbed two napkin-wrapped bundles of silverware—anything to act rational, as though she always had a handsome man holding her daughter, standing close enough that he almost touched her.
Matthias is handsome, Rose realized—but she concentrated on choosing food rather than thinking about him. “Jah, that chicken thigh looks perfect,” she said as Treva picked it up with her tongs. “Denki for setting up tables in your greenhouse. You had to move a lot of things around—and during your busy season, too.”
Treva waved her off before placing a big scoop of mashed potatoes on her plate. “Happy to do it for you, Rose. Your mamm was a pillar of this community. A friend to all of us.”
“I want three chickie legs and a big ole bunch of taters,” Gracie announced as she pointed to the food in the steam table. “Lotsa gravy, too—right, Matthias? Do you like lotsa gravy on your taters?”
“That looks like awesome gravy.” Matthias smiled at the women who were filling his plate. “If I could have some on my chicken, as well as my taters,” he said, winking at Gracie, “that would be wonderful. Denki, ladies. This is a fabulous meal.”
As Rose gazed around the crowded greenhouse, looking for three empty chairs, she was very aware that folks were watching her—whispering about the man who followed her between the tables, carrying Gracie as though she were his. Rose wanted to announce, loud and clear, that Matthias Wagler was only here for the food.
But they’ll know that’s not true. Just like I do.
Rose’s cheeks tingled with heat. She hurried toward the last unoccupied table in the back corner of the big glassed-in room, not meeting anyone’s gaze. Settling into a folding chair, Rose sighed heavily as she gazed at the plate she’d filled. Why had she taken so much food when she had no appetite? Why had her attention wandered as she’d listened to Matthias’s voice and watched him hold Gracie against his hip as though he’d done that dozens of times? She smiled weakly at him as he gently set Gracie in the chair beside hers. Because she couldn’t think of a thing to say, Rose took Gracie’s hand and bowed her head in prayer. She heard Matthias sit in the chair on the other side of her daughter.
What have I gotten myself into, Lord? I’ve just buried my mother, yet I’m allowing this man I’ve met only once to sit with me and to entertain my little girl. This feels so improper—and everyone else is thinking I’ve wandered off the straight and narrow, too.
Rose’s eyes fluttered open. Was God displeased with her behavior? Had she really lost her way? Now that she’d given in to Gracie’s fascination with Matthias, how could she tell him she wanted nothing more to do with him? She glanced at him and sighed.
He’s still in prayer before his meal. Gracie has put her tiny hand on top of his big strong one. How can that be so wrong when it looks so right? So sweet.
As though Gracie had read her thoughts, she opened her eyes and beamed up at Rose. “Mamma, maybe Matthias will go home with us,” she whispered as this wonderful idea captured her imagination. “Maybe he could fix the screen door and that window in my room and—”
“Gracie, hush,” Rose whispered. Even though Matthias had opened his eyes to gaze at her over Gracie’s head, she said, “Matthias is busy. He doesn’t live here—”
“I’d be happy to help you, Rose,” Matthias interrupted gently. “Sam told me you’ve lost your husband and your dat, and that your mamm’s been so ill that—well, I’m sure you haven’t had the time or inclination to repair anything under those circumstances. You’ve had a lot of caretaking to do. A lot of things on your mind.”
So Sam has taken it upon himself to encourage this stranger’s attention?
Even as Rose’s heart yearned for Matthias’s compassion, she couldn’t let him repair things at the house. Her friends were probably murmuring about the way she sat with a nice-looking man whom Gracie seemed quite fond of—yet few of them had ever seen Matthias. They had to be questioning her morals, her apparent lack of respect for her recently deceased mother—not to mention Nathan.
“Why are you here, Matthias?” Rose blurted, knowing before the words left her mouth that she sounded rude. However, she needed to know his answer so she could assess it. Many chores around her parents’ place had indeed gone undone for several months, but she didn’t want to be sucked into a relationship she might regret.
Matthias’s wounded expression shot an arrow of remorse into Rose’s heart. He glanced away, and then used his fork to keep Gracie’s green beans from spilling off her plate.
Gracie smiled at him as she grabbed a chicken leg. “You’re here
coz you’re my friend, huh, Matthias? You know Mamma’s been kinda fussy with me, coz she’s been so sad she’s forgot how to be happy.”
Rose swallowed hard as her cheeks flushed. Everything Gracie had said was true, but that didn’t mean she wanted her problems shared with Matthias.
“You’ve got that right, Gracie,” Matthias replied pensively as he cut into his chicken. “I remember how sad my brother, Adam, and I were when our mamm died, and how fussy and sad I was after my wife died, too. I forgot how to be happy, just like you said. But I’m feeling much better now.”
Matthias returned Gracie’s smile. “I knew your mamma was feeling lost and lonely, Gracie—the way I used to be—so I wanted her to know she could talk to me about it whenever she needs to. And I’ll understand if she just wants me to go away, too.”
Rose clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them. Matthias was a man acquainted with grief, offering his support. She chided herself for being so blunt about his intentions. She’d heard nothing suspicious, but it still felt inappropriate to accept Matthias’s offer of friendship and help. It was just too soon.
“I’m sorry,” Rose murmured. “I’m so tired I can’t see straight, and I feel like a blanket that’s unraveling. I didn’t mean to offend you, Matthias.”
“No offense taken. And since this food’s the best I’ve eaten in a while, I’m going to stop talking and enjoy every bite of it. Maybe you’ll feel better if you eat some of your dinner, too, Rose. Just sayin’.”
“Jah, Mamma, these taters are the best. And so are the chickie legs!”
Rose had to chuckle about the gravy on her daughter’s chin, and at Gracie’s gleeful enjoyment of her food. She didn’t wipe Gracie’s face yet, but she did take a napkin from the center of the table and tuck it into the neck of her daughter’s best dark dress.
“It’s gut to see you eating without Mamma having to pester you,” Rose said, tweaking Gracie’s nose.
Gracie paused with her second chicken leg in front of her mouth. “It was hard to eat when Mammi was so sick,” she replied softly, “but I’m not worried about her anymore coz she’s in Heaven.”
A Mother's Love Page 5