A Mother's Love

by Charlotte Hubbard

To take a shortcut, the three of them stepped off the pavement and started across the grassy park. Anne smiled, watching several children who were playing on the swings and going down the big spiral slide. A few families sat at the picnic tables enjoying their outdoor supper. For a moment, she envisioned herself with Joel Lapp and little Rose sharing a picnic. It was a fantasy she’d occasionally indulged in over the years—and it had become more realistic and precious since she’d reunited with her daughter last week. She was drifting pleasantly along in this stream of make-believe when an excited little voice stopped her in her tracks.

  “Mammi! Mammi Anne and Martha Maude! It’s me, Gracie!”

  The blood rushed from Anne’s head. A little strawberry blonde hopped from a swing and was running toward them, her kapp strings flapping and her face aglow with unmistakable love. Anne couldn’t meet Saul’s questioning gaze as Rose jogged behind her daughter, wearing the same fearful, frantic expression that Anne felt on her own pale face. Nervously she licked her lips.

  Gracie ran up to them with her arms open wide. “My mammis!” she cried out again, launching herself toward Martha Maude. As Martha Maude lifted her up to her shoulder, Gracie realized that she didn’t know the tall, burly, black-haired man who was with them—and who was scowling at her. The little girl stuck her finger in her mouth. Gracie lowered her gaze, yet kept peering sideways at Saul.

  “And how are you, Gracie?” Martha Maude asked as she hugged the little girl. She followed Gracie’s shy gaze. “This is Saul. He’s my son and Anne’s husband. And how are you this evening, Rose?”

  Rose appeared flustered as she met up with them. She shot Anne an apologetic glance. “We were just enjoying some time in the park,” she replied in a tight voice. “I hope we didn’t interrupt—”

  “So is Saul my dawdi?” Gracie gazed at him with fresh curiosity despite his intimidating expression.

  Saul’s eyes widened. Anne couldn’t miss the way he was studying Rose’s features as his grip around her hand tightened painfully. “Who is this?” he demanded in a low voice.

  Martha Maude smiled, seemingly unaware of the drama that had robbed Anne of her ability to speak. “Saul, this is Rose Raber and her daughter, Gracie. We met them when we took our shawls and lap robes to the senior center—”

  “And they’re my grandmas,” Gracie put in happily.

  “Your honorary grandmas,” Martha Maude clarified gently. “That means we love to spend time with you, like grandmas would, even if we’re not really kinfolk—just like you call Gladys and Flo and Zelma your grandmas.”

  Saul nodded curtly at Rose, his eyes narrowed. “Shall we go?” he demanded.

  Anne clenched her teeth to keep from yelping when her husband’s grip crushed her knuckles. He strode briskly across the park without a thought for Rose, Gracie, or his mother. Behind them, Anne heard Martha Maude speaking apologetically to Rose.

  “What was that all about?” Saul demanded in a low voice. “Who was that woman, wife?”

  “I might ask the same of you, Saul,” Martha Maude muttered as she caught up to them. “What was that all about, that you acted so rude—staring at Rose and Gracie as if they had two heads—or they were some sort of threat to you?”

  Saul glared at his mother. He opened his mouth to respond, but he closed it again. He focused on the street as they crossed it, walking faster as they reached the unpaved road that ran past their home.

  This isn’t going well, Lord, Anne fretted as she struggled to keep up with her angry husband. My face—and Rose’s—surely gave us away after Gracie called me her mammi. Bless her heart, she loves us and we love her, so please, Lord, soften Saul’s wrath if he’s guessed the truth. Don’t let him break that little girl’s heart.

  Chapter 27

  When Saul slammed the door closed behind them, Anne knew better than to flee the kitchen. All she could hope was that if he got more demanding—if the truth of her past came out—Martha Maude’s love for little Gracie would keep this heart-wrenching moment from becoming the worst nightmare of her life. How careless she’d been to succumb to Joel Lapp’s charm so long ago, but how deeply she loved her daughter and how grateful to God she was that Rose had come into her life again. She had to hold this love—a mother’s love, which knew no limits or boundaries—firmly in her heart as she endured whatever accusations her husband might hurl at her.

  Anne went to the far end of the table to stand behind the chair, gripping the top of it in anguished silence.

  Saul stopped in the middle of the kitchen, crossing his arms over his bearlike chest. He stared at Anne and then at his mother. “Seems to me that there’s more to this situation than a child declaring you two her honorary grandmothers,” he muttered. “If that’s the case, why do you look like a whipped dog, Anne? And why did that Rose woman seem as frightened as you did?”

  Martha Maude frowned. “Saul, I think you’re reading more into this situation than—”

  “I was reading faces, Mother,” he interrupted tersely. “And anyone can see that Rose Raber bears a very close resemblance to Anne. I find that extremely . . . interesting. Especially because that little girl insists that you’re her grandmothers.”

  Anne’s hand fluttered to her mouth, even as she realized her actions were incriminating her as much as Saul’s words. Her throat was so tight she couldn’t talk.

  Martha Maude let out an impatient sigh. “Sometimes, son, your imagination goes so far astray, I don’t understand—”

  “What’s to understand?” Saul demanded, walking over to where Anne still gripped the chair for support. “Rose’s complexion is darker and her hair is red instead of brown, but otherwise she’s the very image of Anne when she was younger. They’ve got the same body build and the same green eyes, the same tendency to duck a situation rather than look me in the eye and—”

  “Enough!” Anne sobbed. She knew her tears would further condemn her, but she couldn’t stop them from falling. “It’s your attitude—your arrogance—that frightens me, Saul, even more than what you think you saw in the park.”

  The flare of Saul’s eyes told Anne she’d overstepped, but there was no taking back her words. Her truth.

  “My attitude—my arrogance—hasn’t been an issue before,” he snapped as he glared at her. “But your fear, now that’s something worth discussing. You wouldn’t be shaking like a leaf, looking ready to pass out, if what I said about your resemblance to Rose didn’t strike a note of truth. And maybe it’s time for some cold, hard truth, eh?” he added archly. “Who is Rose, really? It’s a sin to lie, Anne. I suspect Gracie stated the facts, whether she knew them or not.”

  Saul looked ready to strike her, and if Martha Maude hadn’t placed herself between them, Anne suspected he might have. But her mother-in-law had her own reason for standing so close. She, too, began gazing directly at Anne’s features, probably comparing them to Rose’s.

  “There might be a resemblance,” Martha Maude murmured with a shrug. “But let me take the blame for planting the idea in Gracie’s mind that I could be her mammi. She wouldn’t have called me that if I hadn’t first—”

  “But, Mother, you don’t appear guilty, as though that little girl blurted something you had hoped to keep hidden.” Saul kept his gaze on Anne’s face as he said this, as though he intended to stare at her until she confessed. “If I recall correctly, the girl called you both her grandmothers. Is that how you remember it, Anne?”

  Anne’s pulse was pounding so loudly she barely heard Saul’s question. Her throat had constricted to the point she couldn’t swallow, much less talk. She knew her husband wouldn’t let up until she answered him . . . yet she believed that the greater sin would be to lie to God by forsaking her daughter. Thirty years of silence and keeping secrets weighed heavily on her soul now. For no matter how good her intentions had been when she’d let Myron and Lydia Fry adopt Rose, she realized there was still the matter of allowing Saul to believe he was the only man she’d ever lain with.

  An
ne cleared her throat, praying desperately for strength and the right words. “Jah, Gracie called us both her mammis,” she replied hoarsely.

  “And why has that upset you so badly, wife?” Saul continued sternly. “If it’s as Mother says—a case of being honorary grandmothers—I can’t imagine why you turned as white as a sheet when that little girl ran up to you, obviously delighted to see you both. Give me a gut answer and we’ll be done with this. The truth will set you free.”

  Anne had always felt blessed that such a handsome, healthy, successful man wanted to spend his life with her—a man who was deeply committed to his church as well. Yet, over the years, it had been Saul’s tendency toward self-righteousness that made her wonder where his loyalty would lie if he ever found fault with her, or doubted her. She knew of employees he’d fired without a thought for what would happen to their families. Would Saul cast her out—emotionally, if not physically—if she told him a truth he didn’t want to hear?

  “Rose is my daughter,” Anne admitted in a whisper.

  Martha Maude sucked in her breath and stepped away. Saul’s eyes widened and he appeared ready to lash out, but Anne went on in the firmest voice she could manage before either one of them could interrupt her.

  “Long before I met you—when I was barely sixteen—I gave Rose up for adoption. Once she was weaned, I never intended to see her again,” Anne explained. Even as the words left her mouth, Anne knew Saul found them to be weak and pathetic. “Your mother and I met Rose and Gracie at the senior center last week—totally unexpectedly—”

  “What happened last week is not the issue here, wife,” Saul interrupted. His face was the color of raw steak and the sound of his ragged breathing filled the kitchen. “If Rose is not my daughter, but she is yours, what does that mean?”

  Anne resented the way Saul sometimes asked questions to which he knew the answers, to test her. To put her in her place. But this wasn’t the time to comment on his irritating habit.

  “Saul, it’s perfectly obvious what it means,” Martha Maude said curtly. “Anne had a child out of wedlock. She has led you to believe she was untouched when she married you, but there was obviously another man in her life when she was young and . . . very foolish.”

  “Is that how it was, Anne? Answer me!” Saul demanded.

  Anne knew that no answer was the right answer at this point, but something inside her refused to accept the way her husband was treating her. “Jah, that’s how it was,” she retorted. “I did nothing different from what any other unmarried Plain girl would do. My parents refused to let me keep my child.”

  Saul’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, so it’s fine that you had a child by another man, yet you’ve given me no children? And you accuse me of being arrogant?” His words rang in the silent kitchen for several seconds before he spoke again. “This is more sin and deceit than I can handle alone. I’ve got to talk to Bishop Jeremiah—and you’re going with me, Anne, to confess your sins. Then we’ll see what he recommends, as far as confessing on your knees to the whole congregation.”

  A fierce defiance welled up inside her. Anne had long ago confessed to God, and she believed He had forgiven her youthful passion—and that He didn’t expect her to suffer for the rest of her life because she’d given herself body and soul to Joel Lapp. This idea of hers flew in the face of what the church leaders taught about the necessity of public confession, yet Anne held tight to her beliefs. She suspected she would say things to Saul she would regret. However, if she didn’t speak her mind now, when would she ever get the chance to set things straight?

  “I’m staying right here. I was unbaptized when I delivered Rose, and God washed me clean when I joined the church,” she said softly. “Talk to the bishop, if you need the reassurance another man will give you. The truth about my past is out now—and I refuse to be ashamed that I gave birth to the fine young woman Rose has become.”

  Saul clenched his hand into fists, a blatant reminder that he could discipline her—could punish her physically and be within the rights their faith afforded him, because wives were to obey their husbands.

  Anne waited, unable to breathe, as Saul considered his response.

  With a final glare at her, he pivoted. As the door slammed behind him, Anne clung to the chair that had supported her. She feared her knees might buckle now that her past had been brought to light and her husband intended to share it with the bishop—and now that she was alone with Martha Maude, who appeared rooted to her spot in shock.

  “I can’t believe Saul figured it out, yet I never saw it coming. Didn’t even notice the resemblance,” Martha Maude murmured, shaking her head. “This changes everything. Everything.”

  As her mother-in-law left the room, Anne gave in to her shaking legs and dropped into the chair she’d been holding. What happens when Saul gets home? Should I move my clothes into a guest room, or should I pack and find someplace else to go until this blows over? Oh, Rose . . . no matter what comes of this, I will always love you. None of this is your fault, or Gracie’s. . . .

  Chapter 28

  “Mamma, whatsa matter?” Gracie whimpered as Rose led her swiftly across the park toward the road. “Why did that man look so mean? Where we goin’, Mamma?”

  “We’ve got to talk to Matthias,” Rose answered more impatiently than she’d intended. “There’s going to be serious trouble—”

  “Am I in trouble, Mamma? Why did that man get so mad?” Gracie asked plaintively. “Why did Anne look like she was gonna cry?”

  When Rose realized her little girl was practically running to keep up, she stopped on the roadside. As she swept Gracie into her arms, Rose knew she needed to clarify her own thoughts—because Gracie was asking all the right questions after she had unwittingly stirred up an emotional hornet’s nest.

  “Sweet pea, do you remember when Matthias was at our house, and we told you not to tell anybody that Anne is my mamm?” Rose asked gently.

  Gracie’s brow puckered with thought. “Jah. But I didn’t tell nobody—”

  “You didn’t,” Rose assured her daughter as she hugged her close. “And Martha Maude told you it was all right to call her your mammi . . . not knowing what would happen when Saul was with them. It’s not your fault that he got upset, Gracie,” she continued with a sigh. “But now he’s angry with Anne, because he looked at me and he heard what you called her, and he figured out that Anne is my mother. He knows our secret now, and he’s not happy.”

  “Oh.”

  The finer points of this dilemma were beyond Gracie’s comprehension, but Rose’s main concern was helping her mother endure the accusations and bitter words Saul would probably hurl at her. Rose sensed that Saul was a good man at heart, sincere in his commitment to the church and to his wife. Still, the Amish faith was tilted in favor of men. It was only a matter of time before the district’s bishop and preachers got involved and her mother was outnumbered—and Martha Maude might decry the sin Anne had committed in her youth as well. Her mother would be left totally alone, defenseless against so many accusers.

  “So why’re we gonna see Matthias?” Gracie murmured.

  Rose set her daughter on the unpaved road again and walked more slowly. “Matthias knows Anne and Martha Maude because he has eaten supper at their house—and because he is Saul’s business partner now,” she explained. “He knows how angry Saul can get, so I’m hoping he’ll think of a way to settle everyone down. It’s complicated.”

  “Jah, it is,” Gracie murmured, reaching for Rose’s hand. “But Matthias will fix it! I just know it!”

  As the small white house on the corner came into sight, Rose was glad she’d asked Matthias where he lived in case she wanted to fetch Daisy and the rig. She led Gracie across his neatly mowed yard and onto the small porch, and then pounded on the front door. Her thoughts were swirling as she thought about what her mother might be going through this evening.

  The door swung open and Matthias’s face lit up. “It’s gut to see you girls,” he began hap
pily—and then he read their expressions. “What’s wrong, Rose? You look worried.”

  “I am,” she replied as they stepped into the house. “We just met Anne, Martha Maude, and Saul at the park—”

  “I was real excited, and I called ’em my mammies,” Gracie put in dolefully.

  “—and by the way Saul was looking me over, considering how I must’ve appeared every bit as startled and fearful as Anne did,” Rose murmured, “I suspect he figured out who I was. And I bet he’s nailing my mother with questions, now that they’re home, and I—I’m really worried about her, Matthias. I doubt Martha Maude will stand up for her.”

  * * *

  When a little sob escaped Rose, Matthias took her in his arms and held her close. Dozens of times he’d imagined holding her this way—but not while he was caught on the horns of the dilemma he’d hoped to avoid. If he helped Rose and Anne—took their part against Saul—he had no doubt that Hartzler would tear up their partnership papers and send him packing. He could also convince other folks not to come to his harness shop. Saul might even consider Matthias almost as deceptive as Anne, because he’d known about her secret baby and hadn’t found a way to inform Saul of his wife’s duplicity.

  Oh, what a tangled web we weave, he thought as he reveled in the warmth of Rose’s sturdy body. When Gracie tapped insistently on his thigh, Matthias scooped her up so she could share their hug. Her expression was pinched and her lower lip quivered. The poor little girl seemed to sense the gravity of Anne’s situation, even as she realized she might have played a part in it.

  “I think we should pray about this—pray for Anne and Saul and Martha Maude,” Matthias murmured. “Then we can consider what to do next.”

  Rose nodded, closing her eyes, and Gracie bowed her head until it was resting on Matthias’s shoulder. In the stillness of his new home, in the presence of the woman and little girl he so dearly loved, Matthias prayed silently for a few moments.

  Then he cleared his throat. “Lord, we ask Your forgiveness for all we’ve done that has displeased You,” he said softly. “And we ask Your presence with the Hartzlers as they deal with this difficult situation, that the truth may be revealed—and that Your will for them be made plain as well,” he continued. “Bless Rose and Gracie and Anne with Your steadfast love. Help us all to bring this situation to a peaceful resolution. Amen.”