A Mother's Love

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “That, and a few other things,” Matthias hedged. He pulled money from his wallet and waited for his change. “Seems like a gut solid sort, Saul does. He’s the deacon of the Morning Star district.”

  As he placed two quarters and a dime in Matthias’s hand, Sam smiled. “Sounds like you’re in for a big increase in business. Congratulations. You’ll do well.”

  “Denki, Sam. I’m settling into my new hometown faster than I anticipated.”

  Sam stroked his gray-shot beard. “Don’t know what else to tell you about Rose,” he said in a faraway tone. “She didn’t say much to me at the common meal after the service, but she had a big smile on her face. With women, that could mean a lot of things.”

  Matthias laughed along with the storekeeper and took his leave. As he unhitched his horse and vaulted up into his rig, he wondered what Rose’s big smile might have meant. Had she come into some unexpected money? Had Gracie said or done something that made Rose feel happy again?

  Has Rose found another man?

  Matthias backed the rig out of its parking spot and urged his horse down the county highway at a quick clip. He twisted the cap from his bottle of root beer with more force than necessary, feeling flummoxed. He knew better than to read too much into what Sam had said about Rose’s Sunday behavior, yet he felt suddenly anxious about his future with Rose and Gracie.

  Were his dreams of having another family falling by the wayside like the horse apples scattered on the shoulder of the road?

  Matthias shook his head to clear his thoughts. Ah, but you know things about Anne Hartzler—information Rose would treasure if you shared it. Nobody else can give her such a gift.

  It was the wrong attitude to have. Matthias felt like a man who’d climbed onto a tall roof and watched his ladder fall to the ground. He was stuck—and no one but Rose could rescue him from his emotional predicament.

  Chapter 18

  Rose gripped the lines, praying Daisy wouldn’t be spooked by the jagged bolt of lightning that flashed across the sky on Friday morning. Rain pelted the enclosed buggy, so loud she couldn’t hear herself think. Even though the orange triangular lights on the back of the buggy were flashing, Rose feared that the dark sky and the wet, shiny blacktop would distract drivers and they might crash their cars into her rig—or pass her in their impatience, and hit another car coming over the hill.

  “Mamma, I’m scared,” Gracie whimpered.

  Rose reached over and grasped her daughter’s little shoulder. “We’re doing the best we can to get to Morning Star, sweet pea,” she murmured. “If I pull over until after the storm passes, we’ll be even later than we already are.”

  When lightning flashed again, Gracie squeezed her eyes shut and scooted against Rose’s side. Her little body was shaking. When she was at home, Gracie simply went to her room and pulled the curtains during a storm, but out on the road she had no place to hide.

  Rose sighed, watching desperately for a good place to pull off the road. They were only a mile from Morning Star, but she couldn’t steer very well with one arm around her daughter, and if Daisy got frightened by—

  A horn honked loudly as a low-slung red car sped around them.

  Gasping, Rose steered the horse off the county highway, onto an unpaved road. When she stopped the rig under some trees, she hugged Gracie close, praying that Sherrie would understand her tardiness. As the minutes passed, Rose had no idea what time it might be. Her no-frills rig didn’t have a clock, and Plain folks didn’t wear watches, so she sat helplessly beneath the trees until the rain let up and the sky began to lighten.

  When Rose finally reached the Morning Star Senior Center, she parked and unhitched Daisy, tethering the mare in the yard where she could graze on the wet grass that bordered the garden. As she hurried inside with Gracie and a canvas tote filled with books and toys, her heart sank. She usually arrived by eight o’clock, and it was almost nine thirty. Breakfast was long over, and Sherrie was probably wondering if Rose had decided not to come back to work anymore.

  “Let’s check the kitchen first, Gracie,” she said as they hurried through the unoccupied dining room. “We’ll hang up our jackets and—”

  “Rose and Gracie! I’m so glad to see you two,” Sherrie said as she followed them into the kitchen. “I was worried that you had trouble on the road, or—”

  “We was parked under the trees, coz I was scared of the lightning,” Gracie blurted. She rushed over and threw her arms around Sherrie’s thighs. “But we’re safe now!”

  As she watched Sherrie heft Gracie into her arms, Rose chose her words carefully. “I’m so sorry, Sherrie. We were already on the way when the storm caught us, so I couldn’t call you—and it was slow going while the rain was beating down on the buggy and our poor horse. I’ll stay later this afternoon to make up for—”

  “Remind me again, how long does it usually take you to make the trip in the morning?” Sherrie asked with a concerned expression.

  Rose sighed, trying to relax after the difficult drive. “On a gut day, I can make it in forty minutes. Maybe I should leave earlier, or—”

  “Or maybe you and Gracie should stay here at the center during the week—drive in on Monday and go home on Friday,” the director mused aloud. “We have a couple of vacant apartments. I’m sorry I didn’t think of this sooner.”

  Rose’s eyes widened. It would be a relief not to rush around every morning, getting Gracie ready and hitching up the rig for the long drive. But could they be away from home all week, and tend to all the chores and the laundry on Saturdays?

  “What do you think?” Sherrie asked, hugging Gracie before letting her down to the floor. “I wouldn’t charge you for the apartment, because you’d be here to cook all three meals. You could do your laundry in the machines our residents use, and Gracie would have a place to nap if she wanted to—”

  “Nah, I’m too busy helpin’ Mamma to nap,” Gracie insisted. Her eyes sparkled and she gazed up at Sherrie. “But we could have our own place? Just like Gladys and Flo and Zelma?”

  “You could,” Sherrie replied. “Let’s take a look at the empty apartments right now, so your mamma can think about them today while she’s working.”

  Rose followed the director through the dining room and down the wide hallway, her thoughts whirling. “It would be easier if we stayed, but what would I do with our mare?” she asked. “It’s one thing to let her graze for the day, but we’d need a place to stable her—”

  “We can ask Matthias!” Gracie blurted. “He said he wanted to help us, Mamma.”

  Rose’s cheeks blazed when Sherrie looked at her. “He’s just a friend—a fellow we know here in Morning Star,” she hastened to explain. “He and Gracie are gut buddies.”

  “I think everyone Gracie meets becomes her buddy,” Sherrie said kindly. She took a key ring from her pants pocket as they approached a door near the end of the hall. “And here we are. This apartment has a sitting area, a separate bedroom, and, of course, a bathroom. What do you think?”

  When Sherrie opened the door, Gracie raced inside ahead of Rose. “Look, Mamma! A fan on the ceiling and carpet everywhere,” she exclaimed. Then she stopped in the doorway to the bedroom. “Do we gotta sleep on the floor, Sherrie?”

  The director chuckled. “We have some basic furniture in our storeroom,” she replied, looking at Rose. “You could each have a bed, and we’ll find a couch and some easy chairs. One of our former residents even left a TV, if I recall—”

  “We’ll not be needing that,” Rose insisted before Gracie could get excited. Her little girl was fascinated by the televisions they saw when they made occasional trips to the discount store in New Haven. “And we could bring a couple of battery lamps from home, and the small pendulum clock my husband gave me. . . .”

  Rose walked slowly into the bedroom and then peered into the bathroom, which was smaller than they were used to. But it had a shower, and it would work fine for the two of them during the week.

  “Think it
over,” Sherrie said. “The other unoccupied apartment is across the hall.”

  As they looked around the other apartment, reality began to set in. Would the house be all right if it sat empty all week? And what would happen to the garden? Saturdays would be very busy, if Rose had to tend to all the chores in one day—

  And what will I tell Bishop Vernon? He and Sam won’t be happy when I admit I’ve taken a job—and when they hear I’ll be out of town all week, that’ll really snap their suspenders.

  “Look at this big ole closet, Mamma!” Gracie said as she stepped inside it and held her arms out wide. “If it storms, I can just come in here! I’ll be snug as a bug in a rug!”

  Rose blinked. Her body was still taut from the tension of driving in the downpour this morning, and she felt tired. She hadn’t slept very well lately, trying to do the cooking and cleaning and laundry in the short time she had in the evenings.

  “Staying here seems like the logical thing to do,” Rose heard herself saying. “Denki for such a thoughtful suggestion, Sherrie. We’ll bring a few things with us on Monday—and we’ll figure out where to keep Daisy.”

  “Excellent!” Sherrie smiled widely. “Which apartment would you like?”

  Rose glanced at her daughter, who was peering out the window at the garden. “This one,” she replied. “We’ll have a nice view—and a big closet,” she added when Gracie grinned at her. “It’s not like we’ll fill it with clothes, but it might be a fun place for Gracie to play—and to keep her toys in, so they’re not scattered all over the place.”

  Sherrie feigned surprise. “Gracie! Surely, you don’t make a mess with your toys.”

  “Not me,” Gracie insisted with a vigorous shake of her head. “I’m a little angel!”

  By the time Rose had prepared two large pans of tuna noodle casserole and put them in the oven, she felt less harried—and very grateful for Sherrie’s offer of an apartment. Staying at the senior center would save her more than an hour on the road every day, not to mention the trouble of hitching the mare to the rig and hurrying through breakfast after getting Gracie dressed. She felt certain God had whispered the suggestion in Sherrie’s ear. This arrangement would also save her money on groceries, because she and Gracie would be eating at the center.

  After lunch had been served and the residents had raved about the tuna noodle casserole, Rose followed Sherrie into the hallway. “You know, your offer of an apartment is awfully generous,” she said. “If you need to pay me less to make up for this arrangement, I’ll understand.”

  Sherrie’s eyes widened in surprise. “I wouldn’t dream of paying you less, Rose,” she insisted. “Everyone loves the way you cook—and they’re crazy about your little girl. You and Gracie have settled into our routine without a single hitch. Let’s consider the apartment and your meals a much-deserved bonus.”

  Rose’s heart fluttered with gratitude. “Denki so much, and God bless you,” she said as she turned toward the dining room.

  “He sent you to us,” Sherrie replied without missing a beat. “I consider us all blessed because you’re here.”

  Rose returned to the kitchen, humming, her heart lighter because Sherrie had said such a wonderful thing. Gracie was seated in the little school desk with a manuscript tablet, practicing her alphabet letters with a fat pencil Sherrie had given her. Alison was loading the dishwasher. All was right with her world, and Rose felt extremely grateful to God for providing this solution to her financial problems. She checked the week’s menu, which was taped to a cabinet door, and began mixing hamburger, chopped onion, and rice for the stuffed peppers she would serve for supper.

  “Mamma, can I go look at the fishes?” Gracie asked. “I’ll sit real still and I won’t bother nobody.”

  “Won’t bother anybody, jah?” Rose smiled as she removed the stem and seeds from a green bell pepper. “That’ll be fine, sweet pea. I’ll come out with you as soon as I’m finished here. I like looking at the pretty fish, too.”

  When Rose had placed the stuffed peppers in baking pans, she spooned spaghetti sauce over the tops of them, sprinkled them with shredded cheese, and then slid the pans into the refrigerator. The dishwasher was whirring and Alison had gone to launder residents’ towels, so Rose slipped out to check on her daughter. True to her word, Gracie was seated in a big chair near the aquarium, gazing at the fish that swam lazily in the bubbling water.

  “How are the fish today?” Rose asked as she pulled a chair on rollers next to Gracie.

  “They’re gut. Swimmin’ and swishin’ their tails. See this pretty yellow one?” Gracie asked as she rose to point at it.

  At the sound of the front door opening, Rose glanced behind her to see two Plain women carrying large plastic bins. As they set their loads on a bench in the lobby, Sherrie came out to greet them.

  “Good afternoon, ladies! I’m glad you could come today,” the director said as she removed the lid from a bin. “Oh, these colors are so cheerful—as always,” she exclaimed as she held up a pair of crocheted slippers.

  “Mamma, can I go see?” Gracie whispered excitedly. “Look at the pretty stuff they brought!”

  “We’ll both go,” Rose suggested, taking her daughter’s hand. It was a blessing that Gracie wasn’t intimidated by strangers, but sometimes she became more exuberant than she realized.

  Sherrie was holding up another crocheted piece as Rose and Gracie approached her. “Isn’t this a pretty shawl?” she asked, stooping so the little girl could admire it. “Rose and Gracie Raber, I’d like you to meet Anne and Martha Maude Hartzler from down the road.”

  Martha Maude, the older and larger of the two women, immediately bent low to take Gracie’s hand and chat with her, but Rose was too stunned to watch them. Anne Hartzler. The name stole her breath away. As Rose gazed into a freckled face framed with brown hair—the very image of the watercolor painting she had, with minor adjustments for age—she felt totally tongue-tied.

  “It’s so nice to meet both of you,” Anne said, nodding at Rose and then at Gracie.

  “Rose is cooking for us now that Frieda Yutzy has retired,” Sherrie explained. “Gracie is everyone’s friend—our very own ray of sunshine.”

  “Jah, I can see that,” Martha Maude said. “Even if she wasn’t wearing a pretty yellow dress, her smile would warm everyone she meets and make them smile back.”

  Gracie giggled, gazing up at the older woman as though thoroughly enchanted with her.

  “These ladies donate the lap robes, shawls, and slippers they make, so our residents can enjoy them,” Sherrie explained to Rose, as though encouraging her to join in the conversation.

  “Summer’s coming, and these folks tell us they get chilly in the air-conditioning,” Anne said pleasantly. “They don’t go outside much or get a lot of exercise to warm them.”

  Rose was aware of nodding and excusing herself to the kitchen, hoping Anne and Martha Maude—and Sherrie—didn’t think she was behaving oddly. As soon as she reached the safety of the kitchen, she inhaled repeatedly to still her hammering heart.

  That was my mother! Except for a softening around her jaw and a few slight wrinkles, she looks exactly like Joel Lapp’s portrait.

  Rose pressed her hand against her chest, straining to calm herself. She needed to fetch her daughter before Gracie got too caught up with those two admiring women.

  And how will you explain this situation to Gracie?

  Rose sucked in another big breath and released it slowly. It was too soon—too dangerous—to tell Gracie that Anne Hartzler was her grandmother. Gracie was missing her mammi so much, she clung to every woman in the same age bracket.

  Did Anne have any idea I’m the daughter she gave away? Was there any sign of recognition?

  Rose reviewed the moments after Sherrie had introduced them. She couldn’t recall any telltale signs that Anne had recognized her . . . but if Rose continued working at the senior center, and the Hartzler women kept donating their quilted and crocheted gifts, it was only a
matter of time before they met again. How could Rose possibly keep her identity a secret, considering the way she yearned to know her birth mother?

  “Mamma!” Gracie called out as she entered the kitchen’s swinging door. “Them ladies are gone now. Sherrie says I can go get Gladys so’s she can pick somethin’ pretty out of those bins! And Zelma and Flo! Come with me, Mamma!”

  Rose focused on her little girl, setting aside her jumbled thoughts about meeting Anne Hartzler. At this moment, the only thing that mattered was Gracie’s plump, warm hand gripping hers and the eager expression on her daughter’s face.

  Remember that, Rose warned herself. It’s all about taking care of Gracie. Now that your financial problems will soon be behind you, don’t jump into a can of worms you can’t get out of.

  * * *

  That afternoon, as Anne prepared dinner with Martha Maude, her thoughts wandered away from the potatoes she was peeling. Could the Rose she’d met at the senior center be her Rose? Was it her imagination, or did Rose have her father’s bold eyebrows and olive complexion—along with Joel’s dark auburn hair? Rose was about the right age, from the looks of her. Anne had tried to study the young woman’s features unobtrusively, but Rose had retreated to the kitchen—Because she’s read those letters I wrote? Because she knew who I was after Sherrie said my name?

  “I can’t get that little Gracie out of my mind.” Martha Maude leaned down with a meat fork to check the pot roast in the oven. “Such a sunny disposition she has, but it can’t be gut for her that her mamm is working. Do you suppose Rose is widowed?”

  Anne had heard about Myron Fry’s sawmill burning to the ground with him and his son-in-law in it, and more recently she’d seen Lydia Fry’s obituary, but she didn’t want to seem too familiar with Rose’s situation. “That would be my guess,” she hedged. “We could ask Sherrie, next time we take our shawls and lap robes.”

  Martha Maude’s short laugh suggested that she wasn’t satisfied with Anne’s answer—and that she might take it upon herself to learn more about Rose and Gracie sooner rather than later. She was headstrong that way.