Rose bit her lip. Why didn’t Deacon Saul forgive his wife instead of ducking the bishops’ remarks about forgiveness?
Jeremiah’s lips curved. “I believe Anne confessed long ago, Saul, and unforeseen circumstances have brought her daughter back into the picture. You’re dodging the real issue.”
Once again, the front room got so quiet that only the ticking of the grandfather clock broke the silence.
Gracie tapped Matthias on the chest. “Wanna see what I drawed?” she whispered.
Matthias smiled and looked down at the two pages she showed him. Rose leaned closer to take a look, and tears came to her eyes. One drawing was a large blue bird and the other had a big red heart in the center with the letters I and U on either side of it.
Gracie grinned. “This one says, ‘I love you,’” she murmured, “and this is the bluebird of happiness!”
Rose saw Anne and the bishops smiling at each other, while Martha Maude came to stand behind the love seat so she could look over Matthias’s shoulder. “A little child shall lead us, indeed,” she said as she smiled at Gracie. “Show everybody what you’ve drawn, honey. We all need to be reminded that we do love each other—and that we need the bluebird of happiness in our lives every single day.”
After Gracie held up the pages for the others to see, she turned and handed the heart drawing to Martha Maude. “This is for you,” she said sweetly. After Martha Maude took it, near tears, Gracie climbed down from Matthias’s lap. She paused for a moment, looking from Anne to Saul and back again, before taking the picture of the bluebird to Saul. “This one’s for you, Dawdi,” she said shyly. “You could use some happiness, jah?”
Rose pressed her fist against her lips to keep from crying. What a picture it made, her little girl handing a gift to the man who’d gotten so upset when Gracie had revealed Anne and Rose’s relationship—because she loved her grandmother and Martha Maude.
Saul’s eyes widened. He seemed struck dumb by Gracie’s unexpected gift. When he finally took the page from her hand, the whole room breathed a sigh of relief. Gracie smiled shyly at him and then went over to hug Anne’s knees. As Anne lifted Gracie into her lap, the little girl kissed her cheek with noisy gusto. “I’m gonna draw one for you next, Mammi,” she said.
“I can’t wait to see it, sweetie,” Anne said as she held Gracie close. “You are such a blessing—to every one of us.”
Bishop Jeremiah cleared his throat. “Well, I can’t add a thing to what Gracie has just shown us,” he murmured. “Of such is the kingdom of Heaven, and we’d all do well to follow her example of generosity and kindness.”
“She takes after her mother,” Vernon said as he smiled at Rose. “I believe you Hartzlers will be richly blessed by accepting Rose and Gracie into your family.”
“Jah, it’s a hard-hearted soul who can resist Gracie,” Martha Maude said with a chuckle.
With a purposeful gaze at Saul, Bishop Jeremiah cleared his throat. “I believe forgiveness must be freely given to be sincere. So for all practical purposes, I’ll call this meeting to an end. The ball’s in your court, Saul. God be with you as you decide what comes next, and as you live as an example to the members of our church.”
As the bishops stood up, Martha Maude spoke. “Denki for your presence with us, Jeremiah and Vernon. We hope you won’t run off before you enjoy some cookies and coffee in the kitchen.”
“Cookies!” Gracie crowed. “Can I help?”
“Of course you may, Gracie,” Martha Maude said as she held out her hand. “I couldn’t do this without you—and first we’ll tape your picture to the fridge.”
As Rose watched her little girl heading toward the kitchen with Martha Maude on one side of her, and Anne on the other, her whole body relaxed. She was still holding Matthias’s hand. When they stood up together, she gave it a squeeze. “I’m so glad you came with me,” she whispered. “But I wish you’d told me that Saul had—”
“I’m guessing you two will be setting a date in the near future?” Vernon asked as he came up behind them and squeezed their shoulders.
Rose’s cheeks prickled with heat. “Why do you ask?” she teased.
Matthias shrugged, feigning surprise. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Vernon,” he said with a telltale smile. “I think I’m doing really well at living single and keeping house—ain’t so, Saul?”
Saul stared blankly at Matthias, but when he laughed, years fell away from his face. He joined them, walking toward the kitchen, carrying the drawing Gracie had given him. “From what I’ve seen of your place—and your cooking—Wagler, you can’t get hitched soon enough.”
Rose took a seat at the kitchen table with the others to enjoy some cookies and coffee. It seemed a good sign when Saul taped his bluebird drawing on the refrigerator beside the page his mother had posted. Gracie’s artwork added a homey touch to a kitchen that was beautiful, yet a little too tidy and perfect, to Rose’s way of thinking.
She noticed Anne and her mother-in-law whispering at the kitchen sink, and then Martha Maude came to stand behind Rose and Matthias.
“Sunday is Mother’s Day, you know,” she began as she placed her hands on their shoulders. “Anne and I would love it if you two and Gracie would join us for dinner. What a blessing it will be to have four generations of mothers and daughters at the table together—”
“And it’ll be a treat to have Saul and Matthias clean up the dishes afterward, too,” Anne put in, her eyes sparkling.
Saul’s eyes widened. He shoved a cookie in his mouth to avoid answering.
“Count me in,” Matthias declared. “I’m an old hand at washing dishes. Great way to keep your fingernails clean, Saul.”
A subtle smile softened Saul’s face. “We’ll flip a coin to see who washes and who dries.”
A short time later, the bishops departed; not long after that, Matthias took Rose and Gracie back to the senior center. When Gracie raced down the hall to their room, Rose murmured, “Well, the evening turned out pretty well, all things considered. But I feel bad for Anne that Saul’s having such a hard time forgiving her.”
Matthias chuckled. “I suspect he’ll come around pretty soon, because Martha Maude won’t let him leave the issue hanging,” he said. “I was really surprised she talked to him in such a tone, and that he let her speak to him that way.”
“To me, that says Saul may strut like a proud, powerful rooster, but his mother rules the roost,” she said. “And thank the Lord she’s taken Anne’s part. My mother would have a difficult time in that household if mother and son teamed up against her on this issue. A dark cloud would hang over that family forever.”
Matthias peered around the corner to see where Gracie was, and then stepped back into the shadows of the hallway. When he took Rose in his arms, her heart began to pound rapidly. She couldn’t look away from his ardent gaze.
“Rose, I didn’t tell you that Saul tore up our partnership papers because . . . well, I’m hoping that when he forgives Anne, he’ll reconsider our business relationship,” he explained. “I have a feeling his moods get the best of him—and he was in a mood when he came to my place yesterday.”
She sighed. She was hoping they’d left the subject of Saul behind them in favor of a more personal topic. “He did seem to be softening by the time we all left. And maybe—if you don’t want to ride on his emotional roller coaster—you’d be better off just tending to your own harness business.”
“I’ve thought about that,” Matthias said. “And I’ve also thought about the damage he might do if he badmouths me and my shop. But right now, Rose, I’d rather think about, well—” He gazed into her eyes until she wondered if he was peering all the way down to her soul. “Rose, I—I love you,” he whispered. “And I do want to set a date, as soon as you’re ready.”
She felt twenty again, as giddy as when Nathan had proclaimed his love—yet this time the words sounded even sweeter. This time, Rose knew what marriage required and she understood the conseque
nces of commitment, just as she longed to belong to a steady, faithful man again. “We’ll talk about that soon, jah,” she said lightly. “Come tell Gracie gut night and we’ll see you on Sunday.”
Chapter 32
Rose held her breath. She knew she was dreaming because the events she felt caught up in were out of kilter and out of order—and she’d experienced this same dream for the past few nights without seeing how it came out. She was at the house in Cedar Creek, the home where she’d grown up, and when Mamma stepped off the porch, calling Rose’s name—calling her to supper—Rose held her breath.
Lydia Fry looked young and vibrant and healthy, as she had when Rose was a girl. Rose wasn’t nearly finished gazing at Mamma—felt compelled to run up and hug her hard—when Dat came out of the barn. He waved at her as though he was delighted to see her—as though he’d never died in the sawmill fire. His body was muscled and firm, and he walked to the tire swing in the big tree, inviting her with his eager eyes to sit in it so he could push her higher and higher until she squealed in delight.
Rose held her breath, wishing this moment of seeing her youthful, healthy parents would never end. The house was freshly painted and the flowers flourished in the beds around its foundation. The vegetable garden thrived, with neatly hoed rows of green beans, ferny carrot tops, and vines full of yellow blooms that wound around the hills of zucchini and butternut squash. The heat intensified the smell of the plants and the earthy scent of soil that had recently received rain, and the breeze brought her the heady scent of lilacs from the bush beside the house.
It all felt so real—too beautiful to be true—that Rose longed to stand in the sunshine beneath the clear blue sky forever. If only she could go back to those days when she’d had no idea how wonderful her life was—when she’d had no idea that she was not Lydia and Myron’s biological child.
Rose’s chest constricted. Mamma and Dat were coming toward her, their faces alight with an all-consuming love for her, their beloved only child. Her childhood came back to her in a rush—the stories they’d read to her . . . the special birthday meals Mamma had made, with grand cakes frosted in pink . . . the kitties they’d let her keep after a stray mamma cat had birthed them in the barn . . . the songs they’d sung together during buggy rides . . . the cooking and sewing and cleaning Mamma had taught her by example . . . the bedside prayers with Mamma and Dat, kneeling on either side of her.
So much they had taught her, so much of themselves they had shared—no child had been more loved than Rose Fry. No girl had been blessed with more attention and heartfelt instructions on how a faithful Amish girl should live her life. Her parents had given her everything they had, and if they had lived longer—
Rose awoke with a sob and sat up. As the dream images dissipated, she realized she was in her apartment at the senior center, with Gracie sleeping in the twin bed across the bedroom. Her heartbeat slowed. She slumped, rubbing her eyes. Why had this dream held her captive the past few nights, yet only in the early hours of this morning had she realized the message behind it?
“Slow learner,” she mumbled. She felt ashamed. She’d become so enamored of her birth mother, Anne, and so caught up in the secret her parents had kept about her adoption, she’d forgotten the very foundation of her life.
Mamma and Dat had loved her with their whole hearts, their entire lives. They had forgotten she was another young woman’s child because to them, it didn’t matter. God had entrusted little Rose to them, and she was the blessing of their lifetime together.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was wrong to question your love for me, and the secret you kept about who I was. None of that really matters. I miss you both so much.”
Rose was resting her head on her bent knees, struggling to regain her composure, when a little voice at her bedside pulled her from her troubled thoughts.
“Mamma? What’s wrong?”
Rose raised her head. She smiled at Gracie through her tears, stroking her silky blond hair. “I was feeling sad about your mammi and dawdi in Cedar Creek, missing them,” she replied as she opened her arms. “But I’ll feel all better if you’ll come snuggle with me.”
Her daughter hopped eagerly onto Rose’s bed. They hugged and then tickled for a moment, giggling, before Gracie burrowed beneath the covers. Rose lay down and took her daughter in her arms. Gracie’s eyes were squeezed shut, her expression intense as she pretended she was sleeping.
“Is Gracie playing possum?” Rose teased as she’d done since Gracie was a very little girl.
Gracie shook her head, faking a snore.
“We have a whole day ahead of us here in Morning Star,” Rose murmured, delighting in the softness of Gracie’s hair as she nuzzled it. “We need to wash our clothes, but that won’t take long because we’re using the electric washers and dryers here. Otherwise, we’re free to do whatever we want.”
Her daughter kept her eyes closed, but her expression showed a distinct spark of interest.
“With tomorrow being Mother’s Day,” Rose hinted, “why don’t you fold some of your paper in half and make cards for Anne and Martha Maude? They’ll probably put them on the refrigerator and look at them for days and days—”
“Jah! Let’s get up and do that now!” Gracie blurted. “Or maybe after we eat breakfast!”
“Gut idea, sweet pea.”
Rose hugged her daughter and released her, laughing as Gracie raced to the closet to get dressed. She recalled the rare and special moments she’d climbed into her parents’ bed and snuggled between them, realizing that those times had been as precious to them as they were to her now. Rose remembered making cards with her paper and crayons, too, and recalled the delight on her parents’ faces when she’d presented them.
What she wouldn’t do to have just one more day with Mamma. Her mother’s love had formed the warp and woof of her life, weaving so many important lessons, holidays, and responsibilities together to make Rose the woman—and mother—she had become. Rose smiled sadly and gazed upward.
“I love you, Mamma,” she murmured. “I didn’t say it enough, but I hope you know I meant it with every beat of my heart, from the moment you called me your own.”
Was it her imagination, or did the room brighten with a glowing warmth that wrapped itself around her? Rose sighed, feeling much happier—ready to learn how to operate an English washer and dryer, and ready to lavish her love on Gracie as they enjoyed their Saturday together.
* * *
Anne was getting ready to start a busy Saturday, winding her long hair into a bun, when a creak made her turn. Her eyes widened when she saw Saul entering the guest room, where she’d spent the last three nights.
He cleared his throat. “Need to oil this squeaky door,” he murmured.
Anne remained at the dresser, hairpins in her mouth and her arms still raised, holding the last segment of her hair. Did she dare hope her husband had come on a mission of forgiveness? Or did Saul intend to disrupt her plans for Mother’s Day by calling off their special dinner? Considering the way he’d gone to bed without even saying good night, she wasn’t counting on reconciliation anytime soon.
“I was hoping to talk with you while Mother wasn’t around.”
Anne nodded her head toward the wall that adjoined Martha Maude’s room.
Saul chuckled softly and approached her, a cautious expression on his face. “Between you and me, I think she talks too much for her own gut,” he murmured. “But maybe she made some points. She could always talk some sense into me when nobody else could.”
Anne put her hairpins on the dresser so they wouldn’t shoot from her mouth if she started laughing. Saul seemed more contrite this morning, but it was his place to forgive her—and she wasn’t saying anything until he did.
Saul sighed, tucking his thumbs behind his suspenders. “Maybe I was wrong to judge you,” he said in a voice so thin she could barely hear it. “Maybe I should be more like Gracie, loving and giving—and happy—instead of casting stones wh
en I’m not without sin myself.”
Anne’s eyebrows rose. In her twenty years of marriage, she had known Deacon Saul to worry over some of their friends’ bad decisions, but she’d not heard him do much soul-searching. She held his gaze, silently willing him to go on.
“And maybe I should be thankful that you and Rose have found each other again,” he went on softly. “She seems very nice—much like you in many ways. Lord knows she’ll be a boon and a helpmate to Matthias. He needs all the help he can get.”
Anne turned to face the mirror again so she could finish with her hair. From what she’d seen, Matthias was a fine man—far more self-reliant than Saul. He was crazy about Gracie and very supportive of Rose.
Saul sighed. “So you’re giving me the cold shoulder? Have I said something wrong?”
Anne met his gaze in the mirror. It wouldn’t be right to criticize or demean her husband, but she decided to answer his question. “Maybe, maybe, maybe,” she murmured. “Maybe you were wrong, and maybe you should be more like Gracie, and maybe you should be thankful that Rose has found me. The Saul Hartzler I know didn’t build his business—his successful life—on maybe.”
He blinked. Then he came to stand behind her, barely touching her body with his, yet preventing her escape. He placed his hands on the dresser on either side of her. When he stooped to reestablish eye contact in the mirror, his damp beard brushed her cheek. “What would I do without you, Anne?” he murmured.
Hair and hairpins forgotten, she clasped her hands over her heart. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “You tell me.”
Saul’s arms encircled her waist as his body shook with soft laughter. “I’m such a donkey sometimes, hardheaded and—and—”
“Noisy. Not to mention full of yourself,” Anne murmured cautiously. “But you’re also strong, and reliable, and you’ve given me a fine life for all these years. I don’t want to live without you, Saul.”
His eyes widened. “But? You said that as though a but must surely follow.”
Anne took a deep breath to steady herself. Saul smelled like the soap from their shower, and he’d chosen her favorite coffee-colored shirt, which accentuated his arresting eyes. He was a big bear of a man, winsome when he chose to be, but this wasn’t the time to succumb to his allure. “We have unfinished business between us.”
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