A Mother's Love

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Matthias’s eyes widened. “My word, this coach looks like a huge pumpkin—and this pink one, with the white wrought-iron curlicues and the grid of tiny wires around it—”

  Hartzler’s laughter filled the room. “Mighty exotic, ain’t so? I’m going to install hundreds of wee little lights on those wires,” he explained as he led Matthias around the three vehicles. “It’s supposed to make little girls feel like a fairy princess—like Cinderella—when they ride in it.”

  Matthias imagined Gracie’s delight at seeing this carriage, let alone getting to ride in it. Little Plain kids heard the occasional fairy tale, even though their parents were more likely to read them Bible stories. The third carriage reminded him of pictures he’d seen of stagecoaches, except it was very elaborate. All the supports, braces, and decorative details—even the spokes of the wheels—were painted sparkly gold.

  “This one’s for a place where they perform high-class weddings—not a church, most likely,” Hartzler explained. “Can you see a Plain couple riding around in this after they got hitched? Hah! Bishop Jeremiah would be having none of that!”

  Matthias laughed along with the man beside him. He’d heard Jeremiah Shetler was more progressive than other bishops in this region, but he hadn’t yet met Morning Star’s leader. As Matthias took another turn around the three vehicles, admiring the meticulous workmanship, he sensed Hartzler was still scrutinizing him.

  “This custom work takes a lot of time,” Saul said. “I do most of it myself, and it brings in several thousand dollars more per carriage than the rigs and wagons we make for our Plain customers.”

  “Jah, I can imagine.” Matthias was itching to ask Saul about his family, but he didn’t want to overstay his welcome—and he felt Hartzler should bring up that subject himself. He had explained his own family situation, after all. “I should let you get back to your work. I just wanted to stop by—”

  “See you at church next Sunday. We’ll gather at the Shetler place, just west of town.” Hartzler reached for his hand again. “I might be bending your ear soon, about providing harnesses and tack for some of my buggy customers. Let’s keep in touch, jah?”

  As Matthias stepped outside into the bright sunshine—and the relative peace and quiet, after being inside the shop—his head was spinning. If he could do some harness work for Hartzler, his name and reputation would get around Morning Star much faster than if he just worked in his little shop at home. It was something to consider, because it was obvious that Saul Hartzler made an impressive income and tolerated nothing less than the best quality work.

  Saul would also tolerate nothing less than absolute loyalty—which was another reason Rose shouldn’t contact her birth mother. Hartzler came across as jovial and enthusiastic, but his painfully firm handshake—his bearlike size and physical strength—told Matthias that anybody who messed with this man or intruded upon his fine life would regret it immediately.

  How can I warn Rose again to stay away from Saul’s family, without her guessing I’ve met him? Matthias pondered this. If Rose guessed that he’d found Saul so quickly, she would surely search out Hartzler’s wife.

  Chapter 14

  As Thursday morning wore on and her muscles grew sore, Rose forced herself to keep hoeing rows in the garden and planting seeds for carrots, radishes, and beets. Gardening had never been her favorite job. It had to be done, though—and in a few weeks, she needed to buy her cabbage, pepper, and tomato plants from Treva’s Greenhouse.

  Gracie had grown bored with keeping the proper distance between the tiny seeds, so Rose allowed her to sit in the shade with her chalkboard. She was singing cheerful songs, drawing all sorts of flowers and animals with her colored chalk.

  “Look, Mamma! A butterfly!”

  Rose slowly straightened her back, reminding herself to be patient. Gracie was good at entertaining herself, after all, and that was something to be grateful for. “Pretty colors,” she said with a nod. “You’re a fine little artist, sweet pea.”

  Gracie beamed at her and scurried back to her spot in the shade. As she wiped the board with an old washcloth and began to sketch something else, Rose wondered again if her daughter’s artistic talent might’ve come from her grandfather, Joel Lapp. These past couple of days at home had given Rose a lot of time to think about her birth parents—and about her suspicion that Matthias and Vernon knew Saul Hartzler, but they weren’t about to tell her where he and his family lived.

  Was she being foolish, hoping she would meet Anne Hartzler someday? Should she just burn those letters and eliminate the temptation they were leading her into?

  Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, Rose’s thoughts taunted her. Anne’s words are already burned into your heart and soul, so setting fire to them would do no good.

  As she gazed down the seemingly endless row where she was planting green beans, her aching back urged her to take a break. But if she went inside and poured a glass of iced tea, her thoughts would again wander toward Anne Hartzler—or torment her about what she’d do for money if no one replied to the index cards she’d posted. Her mind was a whirlwind of what-ifs and second-guessing, and she was clinging to the hope that God would indeed provide some answers.

  “Mamma! Here comes the mailman!”

  “Stay out of the road until he’s gone, Gracie,” Rose reminded her daughter sternly. Bless her, Gracie loved to chat with anyone who came by, and she didn’t always pay attention to traffic. Rose stepped carefully over the rows she’d planted, her bare feet sinking into the soft, moist soil until she reached the grass at the garden’s edge. The mailman stuck their mail in the big metal box, said something that made Gracie smile, and waved before driving on. Rose waved back, watching her daughter open the box.

  “Lotsa stuff, Mamma!” Gracie declared as Rose approached. “Here! You take the mail and I’ll see if we got any phone calls.”

  Rose smiled. She remembered what an adventure it was, at Gracie’s age, to check the mailbox and the phone, but her mood faltered as she flipped through the stack of envelopes. The one from Gestner-Conrad Funeral Home was probably the bill for Mamma’s coffin, the basic preparation of her body, and the closing of her grave. Even though the Amish didn’t embalm their dead, Rose suspected the total would appall her. The Yoder brothers down the road had also sent a reminder about the load of wood they’d delivered last month. Ordinarily, they expected payment upon delivery, but they’d given her extra time because she’d been caring for Mamma. She couldn’t stall them any longer—and she still had to pay the bill for Mamma’s final chemo treatments, too.

  Rose was ready to cry, wondering if she had enough in the bank to cover even half of these obligations, when Gracie hollered at her.

  “Mamma! The message light’s blinkin’!”

  Rose composed herself so Gracie wouldn’t see how upset she’d become. With a smile pasted on her face, she strode to the small white phone shanty.

  “I’m gonna go draw some more with my chalks,” Gracie said. “Can we have lunch after you listen to the messages?”

  “Jah, that’s a gut idea,” Rose replied as she sat down in front of the phone. “I won’t be long.”

  When Gracie ran toward the porch, Rose took a deep breath. Someone might be calling to remind her she owed them money, too—or Vernon might be telling her to forget about her birth mother and stay home with Gracie. She pressed the button and grabbed a pencil so she could jot a phone number on the scratch pad.

  “I’m calling for Rose Raber,” a woman’s voice said. “I saw your notice on the board in the Morning Star bulk store, and I’d like to talk to you about cooking at the senior center. If you could call me—Sherrie West—as soon as possible—”

  With a pounding heart, Rose scribbled the phone number. Someone named Sherrie had seen her notice and wanted her to come to work! Maybe someday she could pay all these bills, after all!

  Don’t count your chickens until they’ve hatched, she reminded herself. It was one thing for a potential employer
to call, and it was another thing altogether to land the job. With shaking fingers, Rose dialed the number. She’d never applied for a job, and she had no idea what questions to ask or—

  “Hello, this is Sherrie West at the Morning Star Senior Center. How may I help you?”

  Rose’s mind went blank.

  “Hello? May I ask who’s calling, please?”

  “Jah, it’s—I’m Rose Raber, the one who posted the index card in the bulk store,” she said nervously.

  “Rose! I’m glad you called back so quickly.” The woman spoke in a businesslike tone, yet she sounded patient and kind. “The lady who’s been running our kitchen has become too ill to work anymore. Could you come sometime soon for an interview—maybe today? I’m eager to talk to you.”

  “Oh!” Rose’s thoughts spun wildly in her head. She would have to shower and change clothes and drive all the way to Morning Star and—

  “Are you still interested in a job, or has someone already hired you?” Sherrie prompted.

  “Jah! No! I—I’m sorry I sound so ferhoodled,” Rose replied with a sigh. “I’m excited to hear from you, and I want to come talk to you, but can it be tomorrow? I’ve been planting my garden and I’m a mess—and it takes me nearly an hour to drive to Morning Star. But I want to come!” she added quickly.

  Sherrie chuckled. “My previous cook was a Plain lady, and she was such a conscientious worker that I’d prefer to hire another Amish or Mennonite woman. Can you arrive tomorrow, by noon?”

  “Jah! I’ll be there!”

  “I look forward to meeting you, Rose. Be careful on the roads.” Click.

  Rose flopped against the back of the wooden chair, stunned. Would Sherrie hire her if she’d be wearing black all the time? What if she seemed too nervous? What if the kitchen had electric appliances and she burned everything? What if she had no idea what to cook for the residents and they complained about her food?

  “What about Gracie?” she said with a sigh. Rose was elated that she’d gotten a response to one of her postings, but reality was smacking her in the face. She had no choice but to take Gracie with her tomorrow, but what if she had to find a full-time place for her daughter to stay? What if Sherrie wouldn’t hire her because she believed Rose should stay home with her child?

  I’ll figure it all out. All things work together for gut to them that love God, Rose reminded herself as she stepped out of the phone shanty. She would take this one step at a time. Her first step was to fix lunch. Then she would explain this new, exciting opportunity to Gracie. And then?

  I have to pull myself together so I don’t sound mindless when I show up for my interview. Lord, please tell me what to do and say!

  * * *

  Matthias was tapping the final shading designs into a black leather saddle when his shop door opened behind him. “Be with you in a sec,” he called out. “I have to finish this section while the leather’s damp.”

  “Take your time, Matthias. I’ll mosey around your shop.”

  Matthias’s eyes widened as he tapped the tool with his mallet. He was pretty sure it was Saul Hartzler talking, but the detailed work he was doing for a longtime customer had priority over visiting. “This saddle is for a cowboy who rides the professional rodeo circuit,” he remarked. “I’m pretty excited that he’s ordered a third one from me, along with a matching bridle and breast collar.”

  “The highest praise a customer pays us is when he orders more of our work,” Saul said. He came to stand beside Matthias at his worktable. “Will it bother you if I watch?”

  “Nah, I’m almost done.” Matthias took a deep breath so his fingers wouldn’t shake. Being this close to finished, he didn’t want to ruin the intricate floral-and-star design that made this saddle so special. “I like to do this custom work when I can. Plain harnesses and tack are my bread and butter, but sometimes it’s nice to have a little jam, you know?”

  “That’s why I take orders for those special carriages,” Saul replied with a chuckle. “I can build a basic rig in my sleep. I like the challenge of making somebody else’s designs and ideas come to life.”

  With two final taps, Matthias laid aside his tools and smiled up at his guest. “All done! It’s gut to see you, Saul. What can I do for you?”

  Saul leaned closer so he could study the detailed design on the saddle. “Beautiful work, Wagler,” he stated. “Will this have some brass or silver ornamentation, like the saddles I saw in the Simple Gifts shop in Willow Ridge?”

  Matthias’s heart skipped a beat. Hartzler didn’t impress him as a fellow who spent much time shopping, especially in gift stores. “Jah, this cowboy loves the flashy stuff,” he replied, gesturing toward a nearby table where other pieces of the saddle were drying. “Almost every blank space will be covered with silver and rhinestones—lots of sparkly blue and white rhinestones. These pieces will be a lot fancier than the ones you saw in the gift shop.”

  “Stands to reason. You’re selling those other pieces on consignment,” Saul said with a nod. His bearded face creased when he smiled at Matthias. “I’ll get right to the point. I mentioned earlier that I might want you to supply harnesses to some of my customers. Now that I’ve asked around in Willow Ridge, I’ve got a different proposition in mind. How about coming to the house for supper Saturday night?” he asked, gazing intently into Matthias’s eyes. “We can get better acquainted over a gut meal. I think that’s important for a new fellow in town—and even more important if we’re to work together.”

  Matthias knew better than to hesitate. “I’d be pleased to come,” he said as he stuck out his hand.

  Saul shook it with another knuckle-crunching grip, pumping Matthias’s arm. “Glad to hear it. I think we can do a lot of gut for each other, Wagler. See you around six.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Matthias replied, hoping he didn’t sound nervous.

  After Hartzler left, Matthias paced around his shop to think about what had just transpired. He was going to have dinner with a prosperous Amish businessman—the deacon of his new church district—to discuss making some custom harnesses. It was an opportunity such as he’d not dared to dream of, after seeing the magnitude of the work Hartzler’s shop produced.

  And you’ll meet his wife—Rose’s birth mother. This might be the most important meal you’ve eaten in a long while, and you’ll have to figure out what comes next—what you will or won’t tell Rose when you see her again, he reminded himself.

  Matthias laughed as he put away his tools. After the way he’d upset her in the park, telling her to stay out of the Hartzlers’ lives, Rose might not give him the time of day.

  But she’ll be glued to my every word if I tell her I’ve met her mother....

  Chapter 15

  “Mamma, tell me again. What’s a inner-view?” Gracie asked plaintively.

  Rose had to word her reply carefully, because she wasn’t sure what to expect from her talk with Sherrie West. She gazed at her daughter, seated beside her in the enclosed buggy as they drove to Morning Star on Friday morning. Gracie was wearing the new blue dress Rose had sewn last night—a fresh spring color that might make her own black cape dress and apron look less faded and somber by comparison.

  “I’m going to talk to the lady who runs the Morning Star Senior Center,” Rose explained as she steered Daisy onto the county road that led to Morning Star and Willow Ridge. “She wants me to be the cook—”

  “Can I help, Mamma? I like bein’ in the kitchen with you.” Gracie smiled up at Rose, holding her new book open in her lap.

  Rose paused, thinking about how to answer. Her daughter was so precious, so trusting—and smart enough to detect a dodge. “I don’t know, sweet pea,” she replied. “I like having you in the kitchen with me, too, but we’ll need to see what the rules are. If we find out you can’t go with me, I’ll ask Rosemary if she would keep you—”

  “So me and Katie could play! Every day!”

  Rose smiled. She probably shouldn’t have mentioned that alternati
ve before asking Rosemary if she’d watch Gracie—but a lot of their everyday activities might get tossed like a salad if she took this job. “We’ll see,” she said firmly. “We’ll talk about this after Mamma’s finished visiting with the lady at the senior center.”

  Gracie went back to gazing at her book about Jesus. As Rose drove the last mile, she reviewed the things she wanted to say to Sherrie, hoping she appeared competent rather than scatterbrained. “Here we are in Morning Star,” she said when they came in sight of the park and the bulk store.

  Her daughter looked out the window with a smile. “Maybe the kids from the school will be havin’ recess when we leave that senior place,” she remarked hopefully. “Can we play on the swings before we go home?”

  “Maybe. We’ll see what time it is when I finish.”

  Nodding, Gracie glanced down a side street with modest homes on both sides. “Where’s Matthias’s house? Will we see him today?”

  “I doubt it,” Rose replied quickly. “He’ll be working in his harness shop.”

  “He’s really nice, Mamma.”

  Rose glanced over to see that Gracie was gazing intently at her. “Jah, he is, sweet pea. But we’ve got other things on our minds—and there’s the senior center up ahead. What’s our ABC game for today?”

  Gracie set her book on the seat. “A means act like a big girl,” she recited. “B is be very quiet. C means candy from the bulk store, if I stay beside you the whole time.”

  Rose slung her arm around Gracie’s little shoulders. “Exactly right! You’re my best honey-girl, Gracie. We’ll do just fine today.”

  “Jah, Mamma,” she replied with a firm nod. “I got you and you got me. It’s all gut.”

  As Rose steered the mare into the senior center’s parking lot, she prayed that Gracie’s positive attitude would fill her with confidence. It was true: she and Gracie had each other, and no matter what happened today, they would move into the future God had planned for them.