A Mother's Love

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Rose considered this statement as they walked down the hallway. She opened the door and gestured for her mother to precede her inside. When she closed the door behind them, Anne turned to her with an intense yearning on her face. “Oh, Rose,” she murmured. “I never thought I’d be standing here with you, seeing your dear face again—”

  When Rose stepped into her mother’s embrace, time and her modest front room disappeared. Anne wrapped her arms tightly around Rose’s shoulders and began to quiver and sniffle. Rose realized she was crying, too, overwhelmed by the reality of finally being held by her mother. They stood in one another’s arms for several moments, swaying slightly. Just holding on, savoring the physical connection.

  Anne eased away, gazing raptly into Rose’s eyes. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she ignored them. “I’m so sorry Lydia has passed,” she murmured. “Such a kind, caring woman she was.”

  “Jah, she was,” Rose replied. She went to the small table by the window and grabbed the box of tissues so they could both blow their noses. “Her cancer stayed away until last year, after we lost my dat and my husband when their sawmill burned down. Mamma must’ve lost her resistance with all the strain and stress, because that’s when the cancer came back.”

  Anne shook her head as she dried her tears with a tissue. “Such a nasty disease, cancer is. So . . . if you’re working here, does this mean you’ve no one left in your family—or your husband’s family—to look after you, dear?”

  Rose smiled sadly. “That’s what it boils down to, jah. But Gracie and I are doing fine here at the senior center,” she said. “I suppose I’ll put her in school here in Morning Star this fall. Might even sell the place in Cedar Creek, because I don’t know how I’ll possibly keep it up—and with that money, I’d be able to pay off Mamma’s medical bills, and—well, I didn’t mean to burden you with all these details.”

  Anne waved her off. “I would pay those bills for you in a heartbeat, Rose, but the money’s not mine to spend without asking Saul.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of—would never expect you to do that,” Rose whispered. “It’ll all work out, really. I—I even have a nice widower around my age who’s been spending some time with us. Not that it would be proper to marry again so soon.”

  Anne squeezed her hand. “I’m so happy to hear that, for you and Gracie both. Don’t wait too long, Rose. Let the dead bury the dead so you and your daughter can move on and have a gut solid life—a home with a man who loves you.” She blew her nose, chuckling. “But here I go, giving instructions like I was your mother or something.”

  Rose laughed out loud. When she’d daydreamed about spending time with her birth mother, she hadn’t realized that Anne Hartzler might have a sense of humor—or might sincerely wish to pay her bills and take care of her. As she gestured toward the small couch, Rose felt as though she might be able to share her most personal thoughts and dreams with this gentle woman.

  As Anne sat down, her eyes sparkled. “And what sort of a fellow are you seeing, dear? Does he take to Gracie? Does he have kids from his previous marriage?”

  “You’ve seen how Gracie endears herself to everyone she meets,” Rose replied as she settled onto the cushion next to her mother. “She was crazy about Matthias from the first time she saw him, and he’s totally comfortable with her. His wife died before she delivered their firstborn, but he’s been surrounded with his brother and sister-in-law’s kids at their home place in Willow Ridge, so children are already a part of his life.”

  Anne was nodding, taking in these details. “And his name’s Matthias, you say? We recently had a fellow by that name over for supper—a harness maker, he is. Saul was so impressed with his work ethic that he’s taken him on as a full partner in the carriage business.”

  Rose’s cheeks prickled and she bit back a grin. “I know,” she murmured. “Matthias has told me about that big surprise Saul offered him.”

  Anne’s eyes widened. “Oh, he’s such a nice man, Rose! Kind and thoughtful and—” She sighed deeply. “Does Matthias know I’m your mother, dear?”

  “Jah, and he knows not to mention anything about us to Saul, too.” Rose looked into her mother’s green eyes, squeezing her hand. “It’s a shame that something so wonderful as our reuniting, mother and daughter, seems to pose such a problem for other people. Do you really think Saul will object, after so many years—”

  “No question about it,” Anne interrupted emphatically. “Saul’s a fine man, but he believes I was untouched when we married. Exposing such a deception will shake the foundations of our relationship, even though we’re taught to forgive and forget.”

  Rose nodded sadly. “I thought as much. Every man who’s discussed the subject insists that nothing gut will come of revealing that you’re my mother. I—I’m sorry to cause you such trouble—”

  “Rose, you will never be trouble, and I refuse to be ashamed of you or the situation surrounding your birth.” Anne gazed directly into her eyes, gripping her hand. “We are who we are, and we love whom we love. It’s the rules of our religion—and society, in general—that cast my relationship with Joel Lapp into a negative light.”

  Rose’s eyes widened. She was amazed that Anne had expressed such a sentiment, for Amish girls were taught from a very young age that they were to remain sexually untouched except by their husbands. And if married women had thoughts about men in their past, they knew better than to express them out loud.

  “Don’t get me wrong, dear. I realize I shouldn’t have given in to my yearnings to be with Joel,” Anne continued in a soft voice, “but I believed God meant for us to be together—until my parents learned he was jumping the fence. They forbade me to see him anymore. Had I left with Joel, my dat would’ve considered me a lost soul and no longer a member of his family—even though I hadn’t yet been baptized.”

  Rose nodded. This was the way of it for a lot of girls who left the Amish faith to be with the men they loved, although some families didn’t ostracize their daughters as severely if they were still in their rumspringa.

  “Needless to say, my parents were still greatly upset when they realized I’d gotten pregnant despite their dire warnings about Joel’s worldly ambitions.” Anne’s expression grew wistful. “I’m still convinced Joel and I would’ve made a solid couple and raised a fine family together—but we would’ve isolated ourselves from everyone we loved. I didn’t want that sort of separation from my family,” she admitted softly. “And I’ve told no one else, of course, that I still have a warm spot in my heart for Joel, because that’s another one of those improper feelings a woman’s not to have after she marries.”

  Rose listened carefully, hearing more between the lines than her mother actually said. “Your feelings are safe with me,” she murmured. “And after reading those letters you wrote me—again and again—I’m not surprised you still feel that way about Joel. I . . . I was happy to know I was created by two people who dearly loved each other—”

  “You’ve got that right, Rose.” Anne gazed around the room, considering what else she would say. “I wanted to tell Joel about you, but I decided against it. I didn’t want him to think I was using you as a hook to bring him back into the Amish faith. And once the Frys adopted you, what would’ve been the point?”

  Rose sighed. “I would love to meet him sometime, but that’s probably not going to happen. How long’s it been since you saw him?”

  Anne cleared her throat, gazing at their clasped hands. “Several years ago, Joel passed through Morning Star to sell some of his paintings—his subjects tend to run toward farm scenes with Plain folks in them, even though that’s not the life he lives anymore,” she added with a wry smile. “I went to see his exhibit in the park, but when he saw Saul with me, he understood that I wouldn’t be meeting him for coffee or anything else in the way of us catching up with one another. I got nothing more than a wistful smile, to show me he was glad to see me.”

  “Did he marry?”

  “I don’t
think so. And that surprises me, considering how affectionate and attractive he is.”

  Silence settled over them. Rose supposed it was because, until last week, so many years had separated her from her birth mother—and because this opportunity to meet had come on the spur of an unexpected moment. She glanced at the clock and sighed. “I hate to call our talk to a halt, but I need to get dinner in the oven—”

  “And who knows when Martha Maude will return with Gracie?” Anne said as she rose from the couch. “It’ll be better if I’m in the kitchen with you, or visiting with Sherrie. I don’t want Martha Maude to come looking for me.”

  Rose stood slowly. With a tight smile, she opened her arms and her mother came to her for another warm, wonderful embrace. “I’m so glad we had this time,” Rose murmured.

  “Me too. We’ll just have to act like gut friends when we’re around other folks,” she said wistfully. “But I hope we can talk this way again sometime.”

  As they headed down the hallway, Rose once again wondered if Gracie had told Martha Maude of this secret. She had a feeling, deep down, that with a handful of people knowing she was Anne Hartzler’s long-lost daughter, such information was bound to slip out someday. To a person, everyone said Saul Hartzler would be extremely upset if he found out about Anne’s past....

  But my mother has made her peace with the past. She feels God’s forgiveness, and she loves me. Why does everyone believe Saul will be unable to pardon what his wife did with Joel, so long ago? He’s a deacon, a leader of the church....

  Chapter 25

  Anne glanced around the kitchen once more. Their usual supper hour had passed, but Saul wasn’t home. The table was set, and the meat loaf and scalloped potatoes were covered and in the oven to stay warm. There was nothing to do until her husband arrived. She went into the front room and picked up the afghan she was crocheting—which she was making to brighten Rose’s room at the senior center. Anne had no idea how she would present the gift to her daughter without Martha Maude questioning her, but she would find a way.

  “This dress turned out cute, if I say so myself,” Martha Maude remarked. She sat at the sewing machine, near the window, trimming the loose threads. “I haven’t made little-girl clothes since Saul’s sister was Gracie’s age.”

  Anne glanced up from her crocheting. Martha Maude rarely spoke of Edna, who had drowned when she was twelve, after slipping out to their farm pond alone to swim. “I like that shade of orange. It reminds me of the fresh peaches we’ll pick from our trees this fall.”

  “Gracie chose it,” Martha Maude said with a smile. “The two of us had such a fine time at the fabric store. I’ll say this for Rose—she might be working and raising her daughter alone, but she’s instilled Gracie with impeccable manners and self-control. There was no whining for things she wanted, no running up and down the aisles like you sometimes see in the stores.”

  “English kids mostly,” Anne murmured. She finished off a row of the afghan and chose a skein of deep periwinkle to work with next. “I suspect—because the rest of Rose’s family seems to be gone—that Rose and Gracie are always together, so Rose spends a lot of time teaching her about proper behavior, among other things. That’s probably easier because Gracie is her only child.”

  “And talk about sharp,” Martha Maude put in proudly. “Gracie knows how to read price stickers! She told me that this peach fabric cost three twenty-five a yard and that the bias tape for the hem cost a dollar sixty-nine! But I still wish she had a father and a proper family life.”

  Anne deftly worked the clusters of double crochet stitches, nipping her lip. Martha Maude thought Matthias Wagler was a fine, upstanding man, but Anne didn’t reveal that he was seeing Rose. She had visions of her mother-in-law inviting Matthias, Rose, and Gracie over sometime if she knew of their romance—and one slip of the tongue would turn the gathering into a nightmare if Saul or Martha Maude suspected that Rose was her daughter.

  “Rose is young and attractive,” Anne said, focusing on her stitches. “No doubt some fellow will latch onto—”

  “Hullo! I’m home!” Saul hollered from the kitchen. “Dinner smells awfully gut and I might just eat it all myself!”

  Anne slipped her hook into the skein of yarn and wrapped the afghan around it. She’d wanted to eat an hour ago when their supper had been ready, but she tempered her impatient remarks. “We’ve missed you, Saul,” she called out as she headed for the kitchen.

  “Jah, you’re so late that Anne and I have already eaten,” Martha Maude teased.

  Saul stood behind his chair at the kitchen table, raising an eyebrow. “I know better,” he told Anne. He watched as she pulled the roaster and the casserole dish of scalloped potatoes from the oven. “Jeremiah was bending my ear. He’s received a letter from the bishop in Willow Ridge stating that Matthias is in gut standing and that we should welcome him as a member of our district.”

  Anne removed the foil from the scalloped potatoes. “When the bishop talks, we’re to listen—not that I had any doubts about Matthias’s standing in the church.”

  “And we’ve met a nice young widow to match him up with—and her little girl’s as cute as a button,” Martha Maude said. “We should have them over sometime soon, don’t you think, Anne? What harm would it do, getting Rose and Matthias together?”

  Anne swallowed hard. If she disagreed, her husband and his mother would both quiz her. And if she let on that Rose and Matthias were already seeing one another, they would question her about how she knew that. “Jah, we should think about that, probably,” she hedged as she set the meat platter near Saul’s plate. Anne immediately busied herself by putting a spoon in the scalloped potatoes and fetching a bowl of slaw from the refrigerator, hoping Martha Maude and Saul didn’t notice how pink her face was.

  How long will it take them to notice that Rose resembles me? How long before my past with another man is no longer a secret, and Saul condemns me for what he’ll consider an unforgivable sin—and my deception?

  * * *

  As she drove home late Friday afternoon, Rose let Gracie chatter about the time she’d spent with Martha Maude. She was pleased that her little girl had made such a fine friend and had enjoyed her shopping trip, yet Rose felt a worm of unease squirming in her stomach.

  “And, Mamma, guess what?” Gracie crowed. “Martha Maude said I was just like a little granddaughter to her. And I can call her my mammi if I want! I think I’m gonna!”

  Rose’s eyes widened and she bit back her objections. But what was she objecting to, really? Martha Maude was only being gracious and grandmotherly . . . as she unwittingly created more opportunities for Gracie to spill the beans about Anne being Rose’s birth mother.

  “I really gotta lotta mammis now, huh, Mamma?” Gracie continued, beginning to count on her fingers. “I got Gladys, and Flo, and Zelma, and Martha Maude! And my mammi in Heaven, too,” she added sweetly.

  Emotion welled up inside Rose and she couldn’t speak for a moment.

  “Did Anne help you with fixin’ dinner?” Gracie asked. Then she leaned closer, studying Rose’s face. “What’s wrong, Mamma? Why’re you cryin’?”

  Rose knuckled away her tears. “It’s still hard to think about your mammi passing on,” she murmured. Straightening in the seat, she tried to compose herself. “It’s been quite a day, sweet pea. I’m hoping you didn’t let on to Martha Maude about Anne being my mother.”

  “Nope! We was too busy shoppin’,” Gracie said matter-of-factly. “I picked out lotsa pretty fabric with flowers and stripes and polka dots for her quilts. And then she let me pick out two kinds of fabric for dresses.”

  “Dresses?” Rose steered Daisy onto the county road that would take them into Cedar Creek.

  “Jah, Martha Maude’s gonna make me some dresses coz she knows you’re awful busy,” Gracie replied with a sunny smile. “I picked orange like sherbet and green like pickles!”

  “Wasn’t that nice? I hope you thanked her,” Rose added, even as her hear
t sank a bit. It felt like a pronouncement of her failing as a mother, if she couldn’t even keep her child in clothes.

  “I did. And she hugged me and kissed my cheek. She’s really nice, Mamma.”

  Rose nodded. She was grateful that Gracie’s outing had gone so well and that Martha Maude had taken her to the Morning Star Café for lunch, because it had given Rose more time with Anne as they prepared the senior center’s noon meal. But in the back of her mind, a flare went up, like a fiery red ball of a Roman candle.

  If Martha Maude was so enchanted with her daughter, what would keep her from inviting Gracie to the Hartzlers’ house, as she’d suggested before? Rose would go along, of course. Then how well could she and Anne pretend they were merely friends?

  Lord, please help me to keep this situation in perspective. And watch over Anne—just in case Saul learns the truth and he doesn’t take it well.

  * * *

  On Sunday morning as Matthias sat in church, with the younger fellows behind him and the older men filling the pews in front of him, he found another reason to believe that God had brought him to Morning Star. Bishop Jeremiah Shetler was preaching the second, longer sermon and his resonant voice filled the main level of Preacher Ammon Slabaugh’s modest home. Removing some of the interior walls created enough space for nearly a hundred men, women, and children, and they all listened attentively as their bishop spoke to them of forgiveness and reconciliation.

  “Let us again consider the key verses of the passage Deacon Saul read to us earlier in the service,” Jeremiah said as his gaze swept the wide room. “First, from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, let’s revisit the seventeenth and eighteenth verses of Chapter Five. Deacon Saul?”