A Mother's Love

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “I understand your hesitation,” Matthias murmured, standing closer to her so the folks on the walkway could get past them. “And if you’re uncomfortable eating with a man in public at this point, I’ll leave you and Gracie to—”

  “Nuh-uh!” Gracie protested. As she looked from Matthias’s face to Rose’s, her lower lip trembled. “We was gonna have a gut time, just eatin’ our pizza, Mamma. I promise I won’t talk real loud. Please?”

  Rose sighed. Was she giving in to Gracie’s whims and whining too often these days? Was she being unreasonably modest? Matthias’s expression didn’t match his words. He was saying he’d leave her and Gracie to eat their lunch, but his intense gaze told Rose he’d be very disappointed if he couldn’t join them. “It’s only lunch, I guess,” she said softly. “Not much different from sitting with you at the funeral meal.”

  “Is that a jah, Mamma?” Gracie asked in a hopeful whisper.

  Rose felt time stand still for a brief and shining moment. Gracie had hooked her arm around Matthias’s neck. They were cheek to cheek, appearing so comfortable together—outvoting her doubt with their optimism.

  “Let’s go in,” Rose finally said. “I’m probably causing folks to stare at us more out here, stalling on the sidewalk, than if we just sat in a booth and got our pizza.”

  “I was hoping you’d see it that way,” Matthias said. “May I buy your lunch to repay you for that fine meal we ate in Cedar Creek? Please?”

  Was he treating this as a date now? Rose’s heart pounded painfully in her chest, because only eight short months ago, in August, she and Nathan were so happy together, and it seemed too soon—almost a betrayal of the marriage to which she’d been totally committed. And if she saw anyone she knew, they would wonder why she was out and about, apparently celebrating, mere days after she’d buried her mother.

  “He’s helpin’ us be thrifty, Mamma,” Gracie said in a loud whisper. She nodded emphatically, coaxing Rose with her cherubic smile.

  Rose held her breath, hoping Gracie wouldn’t elaborate on their financial situation—or about her posting notes on bulletin boards—as Matthias held the door for her. “All right, I’ll accept your offer,” she said softly. “You’re very kind, Matthias.”

  “Just like Jesus!” Gracie beamed at Matthias as they chose a booth near the back of the restaurant. “I got me a new book about Jesus today, and He looks just like you, Matthias!”

  Matthias’s eyes widened. After Rose scooted toward the wall, he gently set Gracie on the seat beside her and took his place across the table from them. “That’s a mighty high compliment, comparing me to Jesus,” he replied. “I’ll have to be very careful now, to be sure my behavior measures up—except I’ll never be perfect, like He was.”

  Something about Matthias’s expression, his kind hazel eyes when he gazed at her, made Rose sparkle inside. She dismissed this sensation as hunger, glad when the young waitress came to the table with glasses of water. Gracie immediately asked for a double-cheese pizza and lemonade. When Matthias asked Rose to choose what the second pizza would be, she blinked. Nathan had always done the ordering for all of them—

  Matthias isn’t Nathan. Give him an answer before he thinks you don’t even know what kind of pizza you like.

  “How about sausage and Canadian bacon with lots of green peppers, mushrooms, and black olives?” Rose ventured.

  “Yes! All my favorite ingredients!” Matthias smiled at the waitress. “Make those two large pizzas, please, and bring us a pitcher of that lemonade.”

  Rose felt a fluttery excitement inside, but again she chalked it up to the aromas of spices and baking pizzas making her hungry—For food, not for Matthias’s attention, she cautioned herself. She was glad Gracie was chattering with him so she could just observe, rather than making intelligent conversation. It seemed she was perfectly capable of taking her future in hand and raising Gracie, but when it came to talking to a nice guy like Matthias, she was feeling . . . tongue-tied.

  Chapter 12

  Matthias nearly cheered as they stepped out of the restaurant and Gracie spotted kids in the park across the road. The bright-colored swings, slides, and teeter-totters—and little Plain kids in kapps and suspenders playing on them—drew Gracie like a magnet. Maybe he would finally have a chance for real conversation with Rose, who’d been very quiet while they were eating their pizza.

  “Mamma, pleeeaze can I go play?” Gracie asked eagerly. “Those kids’re havin’ a real gut time!”

  “We could watch her from that bench in the shade,” Matthias suggested as Rose gazed intently at the kids and the young women who supervised them. “The park’s right behind the Mennonite school, so the teachers let their scholars play on the swings at recess.”

  Rose glanced at the white school building. “We’re probably keeping you from your work, Matthias.”

  He shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t shy away and take Gracie home. For Rose Raber, Matthias had all the time in the world.

  “Truth be told, I just got moved into my house here in Morning Star, and I’m setting up my harness shop,” he said. “Spending time with you girls is a nice break from toting boxes and unpacking them—and then figuring out where to put things. Moving to Morning Star is the best thing I’ve done for myself since Sadie passed, but all that decision making can wear you out!”

  Gracie took her mother’s hand and then grasped Matthias’s. He reveled in the sweetness of being chosen by this charming child as they made their way to the park. “The littlest kids are playin’ tag!” Gracie said excitedly. “I can run real fast, so I’m gonna play the next game with ’em, okay, Mamma?”

  Rose chuckled. “It’ll do you gut to run off some of that pizza before we head home.”

  “Jah, I’m tired of ridin’,” Gracie said. “Here I go—bye, Matthias! Bye, Mamma!”

  Matthias watched the little blonde scurry across the grass toward the other children. “Gut for Gracie,” he said. “She’s not afraid to meet new kids and join in their games.”

  “When I was her age, I was still hiding behind Mamma’s skirts when strangers came around,” Rose replied. “Sometimes I wish I had her confidence—and her energy.”

  Matthias listened closely. Rose didn’t impress him as a shrinking violet, but he took this as a warning to go slowly with her, to be her friend until she wanted him to be more. “Tell me how you’ve been doing, Rose,” he said as they approached a wooden bench in the shade. “Are you adjusting to your mamm’s absence?”

  Rose sat down on the end of the bench. She placed her pizza box beside her, focusing on Gracie as she played with the other children. It took her several moments to reply.

  “I’m surprised Gracie didn’t announce why we’re in town,” she began softly. “We’ve also been to Willow Ridge and New Haven today, because . . . I’ve been posting notices. Hoping to find work.”

  Matthias perched on the other end of the bench, greatly surprised by Rose’s admission. As he set his pizza box on top of hers, he realized why Rose had remained so quiet while they ate their lunch. The shadows under her eyes and the set of her jaw told him she was having a tough time with this situation. If she had to look for a job—

  Don’t offer her money! You’ll scare her off, his thoughts warned.

  “I bet that was a hard decision—something you’d never figured on having to do,” Matthias murmured. He longed to squeeze her hand, but he knew better.

  Rose focused on him with wide green eyes that shimmered like a springtime forest beneath her arched brows. Her auburn hair and golden complexion made an unusual combination, but it looked beautiful on Rose.

  “Denki for seeing it that way,” she said gratefully. “Bishop Vernon wasn’t as patient. He expects me to accept the church’s financial help for at least five months—until Gracie’s in school—before I look for work. But how can I sit idle for so long? I need to do something.”

  Matthias bit back the impulse to look after Rose’s needs. He would offend her by offering
her money, and it would be presumptuous to think she wanted anything more permanent, more emotionally satisfying from him—or any man—at this point. “A mother’s death leaves a big hole in one’s life,” he agreed softly. “I admire you, Rose. You’ve suffered staggering losses this past year, yet you’re making plans instead of rolling up in a ball and hiding. That takes a lot of gumption.”

  Rose’s breath escaped in a soft sigh. “I worry about finding a job that’ll allow Gracie to be with me,” she admitted, “but I must trust God to show me what I’m to do. I’m both her mother and her father now. I—I feel funny telling you all this, Matthias,” she admitted quietly, “but I have to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. Vernon knows that, but he doesn’t understand, really. He insists that the Lord will provide, while I believe in the old saying about God helping those who help themselves.”

  Matthias felt he’d been entrusted with Rose’s deepest beliefs and most desperate longings. It was all he could do not to blurt out his newfound desire to take care of her and Gracie. “We all need a sympathetic ear from time to time,” he pointed out. “Rose, if there’s any help you need—anything I can do for you—don’t hesitate to ask. All right?”

  She looked away, searching for Gracie in the group of kids who scurried from the boy who was “it.” Their laughter and happy voices rang out, sounding so carefree that Matthias envied them.

  “Denki, Matthias. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Matthias sensed he’d reached the limit of what Rose would accept from him. He smiled at the way Gracie darted away from the older boy who was trying to tag her—so lithe and quick, she was, mentally and physically.

  Would Gracie lose her easy charm, her eager smile, if Rose had to leave her in someone else’s care each day? A part of him objected to this arrangement as unnatural, yet Matthias certainly couldn’t offer to watch Gracie. He had a shop to manage—harnesses to cut and customers to do business with. Not that Rose would even consider leaving Gracie with him—

  “Can I tell you something else, Matthias—while Gracie’s playing?” Rose sounded scared and shy, but in need of a sympathetic ear.

  “What is it, Rose?” he asked gently. “I know you have a lot on your mind.”

  “I found out, the day Mamma died, that I’m not her biological child,” Rose said in a voice he could barely hear. “I—I know who my birth mother is. Now that I’m nearly alone in the world, I have these fantasies of finding her—”

  “Oh, my,” Matthias murmured. “That’s quite a thing to discover at this point in your life. I—I guess I’d be curious, too, in your place.”

  Rose gazed gratefully at him. “My birth mother wrote me letters after I was born, Matthias. She told me about how she loved my father, but he left the Old Order to become an artist,” she said with a hint of pride in her voice. “She also said she was getting married and that I shouldn’t try to find her—not that I have any idea where she lives. But her husband, Saul Hartzler, has a name that’s a bit different from most Plain fellows, because he spells it with a U—like the Saul in the Bible who persecuted Christians rather than as a nickname for Solomon. So maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to—”

  “It’s one thing to be curious,” Matthias blurted, “but it’s another thing altogether to go butting into this gal’s marriage. You’d better leave well enough alone, Rose,” he warned. “I can’t think that Saul Hartzler—or any man—would want to find out his wife had a baby before she married him and kept it a secret. He’d most likely order you out and then chastise his wife as well.”

  Rose’s face fell. “You sound just like Vernon.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Matthias said quickly. “It’s just that—”

  “I—I’m sorry I bothered you with my personal problems, Matthias.” Rose stood up, her movements stiff with disappointment. “Gracie and I should head home. Denki again for the pizza.”

  Without allowing him to reply, Rose grabbed her pizza box and strode toward the playing children. She signaled to Gracie and then grasped her daughter’s hand. Gracie knew better than to protest, but her little face appeared tight with frustration. Matthias sat on the bench until they had crossed the street, heading for the bulk store parking lot. He’d been hoping for another hug from the little girl who’d won him over so easily.

  You told Rose the truth, he said to himself as he walked home. The truth shall set you free—but you’re probably free of Rose’s company forever now. She’s like a moth near a flame, headed for a scorching you want no part of, Wagler.

  Chapter 13

  That evening after she’d put Gracie to bed, Rose chided herself for revealing so much to Matthias after lunch. What had possessed her to tell him she needed a job? And why had she mentioned learning about her birth mother? She’d had no intention of opening up to him—

  Matthias is a very considerate listener—and he seemed genuinely interested in my welfare, that’s why.

  But when all was said and done, Matthias had been no different from Bishop Vernon. He had no idea how she longed to find her birth mother after losing Mamma . . . how her life loomed before her like an empty tomb—like the yawning grave that had undone her in the cemetery. Once she fell into that emptiness, Rose feared she’d never be able to crawl out.

  What if Matthias knows Saul Hartzler? Maybe he got snippy because he knew Saul would cause trouble for Anne if I showed up.

  Rose dropped into the recliner, thinking back to her conversation with Matthias. He’d seemed cordial and compassionate until she’d mentioned Saul’s name. Then he’d sternly told her to leave well enough alone.

  Rose sighed tiredly. Her life would be a lot simpler if Anne hadn’t written those persuasive letters—or if Mamma had destroyed them. Surely, those two women had known she’d be tempted to search for her birth mother if she had any inkling of where to find Anne Hartzler—or Saul.

  Rose yawned. She’d been on the road most of the day, doing what she’d considered prudent for her future, but now Matthias’s mention of rolling herself up in a ball and hiding sounded like a pretty good idea. She could let the church district cover her expenses—could be obedient to the bishop and dependent on charity for the rest of her life.

  Or I could let God handle it tonight, and I’ll try again tomorrow.

  * * *

  On Tuesday afternoon, Matthias decided to do some investigating—which would not only answer questions Rose had raised, but would be a way for him to introduce himself as a new shop owner in Morning Star. As he walked toward the carriage shop on the outskirts of town, he planned what he would say . . . how he would figure out whether the Hartzler fellow who owned it was the man Rose had been talking about. Matthias hadn’t lived in Morning Star long enough to attend a church service, or he would’ve already met Hartzler because he was the deacon. He knew of several Hartzler families scattered around the area, and he knew of a couple of Solomon Hartzlers who went by Sol.

  But Rose was right. If the fellow who owned the Hartzler Carriage Company spelled his name with a U, he was probably the man who’d married Rose’s birth mother. Matthias had heard the carriage maker employed more workers than anyone else in the Plain community, which made him a man to be reckoned with—quite possibly the wealthiest man in the Morning Star church district. Such a fellow wouldn’t want any secret babies showing up. It would be a scandal—a heinous breach of trust—if the deacon’s wife had borne a child out of wedlock. And if Hartzler took after his biblical namesake, persecuting folks, Rose—and her birth mother—would be in deep trouble.

  Matthias slowed his pace as he approached the carriage shop. The white metal building was much larger than most Plain shops, with a modest sign on its side: HARTZLER CARRIAGE COMPANY. Amish and Mennonite families in the area had been buying their rigs, courting buggies, and farm wagons here for years.

  When he stepped through the back door, Matthias paused to let his ears adjust to the racket of air-driven tools and the rapid-fire whine of bolts being
driven into metal surfaces. At the back of the large room, several fellows attached the pieces of standard black buggies on a short assembly line. On the wall nearest the door, he noticed a list of names alongside time slots—the employees and their weekly schedule. The name above the list made him swallow hard:

  HARTZLER CARRIAGE COMPANY—SAUL HARTZLER, PROPRIETOR

  “What can we do for you today?” a male voice bellowed above the factory noise. “I’m Saul Hartzler. And you would be—?”

  Matthias’s hand got swallowed in a hearty grip that left his fingers aching. “I’m Matthias Wagler,” he replied loudly. “Just opened a new harness shop here in town, and thought I’d introduce myself. Gut to meet you, Saul.”

  “You’re a harness maker, eh?”

  “Jah, and I also make custom-tooled saddles and special tack, for parades and such,” Matthias replied. “Lived and worked in Willow Ridge before I came here.”

  Saul motioned for Matthias to follow him. After they crossed the impressively clean, well-organized shop area, they entered a separate workroom.

  “Quieter in here,” Hartzler remarked as he closed the door. He was a tall, burly man with thick, black hair and a dense beard framing his face. “What brings you to Morning Star? I hear Willow Ridge is quite the busy place these days, so I’d think your harness shop would do well there.”

  “Jah, it did,” Matthias agreed. “But sometimes a man needs a change in his life.”

  As he explained how crowded the home place had become, and how he was hoping to expand his business, Matthias had the feeling Hartzler was sizing him up. Saul was nodding, following every word Matthias said. He gestured for Matthias to approach three of the most unusual carriages he’d ever seen.

  “You’ve mentioned custom work, so I’ll show you my latest special projects,” Saul said with a wide smile. “English folks operate places they call amusement parks—like the rides at a county fair or a carnival, but on a lot bigger scale. Some of these places offer rides in fancy horse-drawn carriages—and I’ve been getting orders from far-flung places called Disney World and Six Flags, all over the country.”