To Be a Mother

by Cheryl St. John; Ruth Axtell Morren

  She met his gaze, wondering how she could have ever found his eyes without humor. “I’ll go fix tea.”

  She hummed as she replaced the clean carpet then checked the water in the kettle. Good, it was still hot. Since she’d been back from her time at Mrs. Avery’s, she’d watched for Noah every afternoon at teatime, expecting to see him walking by from the harbor. Funny how she’d grown accustomed to his presence.

  “There, that does it. Where would you like me to put these?” Noah stood in the back door, holding the neatly folded rugs.

  She smiled gratefully. “Oh, just set them there on the bench. I’ll lay them out later.”

  As she reached for the teapot, she felt him approach behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the room.

  “What—”

  “I have a better idea.” He steered her toward the table.

  She did as he commanded, mystified as to what he was about.

  “I didn’t mean to make more work for you. Why don’t you let me make you a cup of tea.”

  Unused to being waited on, she watched, bemused, as he prepared the tea.

  “Sugar pot?” he asked her.

  She pointed.

  “Cream?”

  She indicated the doorway to the cellar.

  He brought everything to the table and poured out her tea.

  “Would you like a piece of pie?” she asked him.

  “No, thanks. Just the tea will do.”

  All of a sudden she felt nervous. Was it because it was the first time she was all alone with Noah? Was it because they’d spent so much time by Melanie’s bedside, seeing each other day and night?

  She remembered the bandanna she still had on and reached up to pull it off. She saw him looking at her hair and put a hand up to it self-consciously, wondering how mussed it must appear.

  She lowered her hand and laid the bandanna on the table. “As a professional nurse, there’s usually plenty of other help in a house to take care of the housekeeping. I’d forgotten how much there is to running a house oneself.”

  “Here you’re doing both, nursing and housekeeping,” he remarked.

  “Mother’s getting stronger,” she said, brightening. “That’s where she is right now—at the doctor’s office to discuss her improvement. I think the camp meetings did her good.”

  He didn’t say anything, so she took a sip of her tea.

  “Melanie’s growing stronger every day,” she added to fill the silence. “I don’t think there will be any lasting effects of the fever. She’s very anxious to get out of bed now and come over.”

  “I’m very grateful for all you did for her. If not for you—” Noah looked away as if unable to say more.

  “I didn’t do any more than anyone else would have. Besides…” She looked down this time. “I’ve grown very fond of her.”

  She could feel his gaze on her. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t have as much time as I’d like in summer to spend with her.”

  “I understand,” she said softly. “I think she does, too. She loves you very much. You are so blessed to have her.”

  He nodded and didn’t quite meet her eyes. Was he embarrassed by the fact that his child had lived and hers hadn’t? Since meeting Melanie, there were moments when the pain of her loss hit her afresh, but she’d given it over to the Lord during the camp meeting, and she trusted His grace to aid her. Before she could think how to reassure Noah, he lifted his gaze to hers. “Why didn’t you ever come back before now—I mean, after the war…when enough time had passed?” His stumbling question made it clear he meant after she’d mourned the loss of her unborn baby.

  She found it impossible to pull away from the directness of his look. His questions always demanded honesty from her. “I…don’t know. Mother never needed me before,” she said with a shrug.

  As he continued regarding her with those eyes that seemed to see through her, she felt compelled to probe herself more deeply. “Pride, I suppose. Who wants to return home a war widow, without even a child?” Although she kept her tone light, she knew he saw beyond the humor.

  “Besides, what would I come home for? To sit around and think about my loss? At least away—” she gestured with a hand “—I could make myself useful.” She paused, tracing the bandanna’s design with her fingertip. “It’s different now.”

  “How?”

  “I like being home.” She couldn’t help the note of longing creeping in.

  “Do you really think you’d be happy living here?”

  Why did he sound so skeptical? Instead of answering him, she clasped her hands on the tabletop and looked across at him, deciding to pose a few questions of her own. “I might ask you how you like living at Mrs. Avery’s, when you could live in your own house, such a pretty house by the sea?”

  He looked down into his teacup. “I tried living there for a while. After the war…after—” He cleared his throat. “After Charlotte. A lady in town who’d been looking after Melanie since I’d been gone agreed to keep her a little longer. With the way Charlotte had…passed away…well, I just wasn’t ready to…to set up housekeeping yet for the two of us.”

  He took a deep breath as if bracing himself to get over a large hump. “I soon realized Melanie needed me. So, I moved in with Mrs. Avery. She’d recently lost her husband and had to take in boarders. She’s been good with Melanie.” With a sheepish smile, he said, “Mrs. Avery keeps me civilized. When I was alone, I’d forget to shave, change clothes, get my hair cut.”

  Rianna sat riveted, listening to his stark words. So much needed to be filled in…so much was clear from what he didn’t say. “Why haven’t you remarried?” she asked softly then gave a short laugh. “There are certainly no lack of nice widows about since the war.”

  He looked at her a long moment then answered more bluntly than she’d expected. “I didn’t want to go through that again.”

  She knew he was talking about Charlotte’s death. “Was it so very bad?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t here. While we were sitting out the winter outside Richmond, my wife was dying of consumption up here. I didn’t get a scratch on me, and Charlotte wasted away.”

  Rianna shut her eyes. “Oh, Noah. I’m so sorry.” She had seen all the guilt he still carried around for his wife’s death in those brief words he’d spoken.

  He said nothing, just sat staring down at his cooling cup of tea. Rianna reached across the table and took one of his hands, wanting only to comfort him. The moment she did so, she felt their roughness, and remembered her promise to treat them.

  She stood immediately and went over to a cupboard. She came back with a jar of lanolin. “Give me your hands,” she said, standing at the end of the table next to him. He was too startled to argue. She grasped one hand and began dabbing the ointment on it. “I don’t know how you can let these go. They look awfully painful to me.” She rubbed the palm and back first then proceeded with each finger.

  “You’ll probably soften them too much then I’ll have to toughen them up all over again,” he said in a gruff voice.

  She tsk-tsked as she set down one hand and took up his other. She repeated the same procedure, back, palm, fingers, working the ointment around every finger, reaching down well into the base of each one.

  She looked up at him, on the point of saying something, when she stopped. He was staring at her, with an unmistakable look in his eyes. She’d seen that same look in the faces of dozens of wounded soldiers when confronted by a pretty, caring nurse. Their eyes held raw longing. It had never touched her before except to stir her to compassion. Now she dropped his hand like a hot iron and turned away.

  She heard him scrape his chair back as she replaced the top of the jar with shaking fingers.

  “I’d better be off.” He walked to the door, taking his hat from a hook. “So long.”

  “Yes, goodbye,” she answered, intent on the jar. “Thank you for the haddock,” she called out as an afterthought, but he’d already slammed the
door behind him.

  Oh, Lord, oh, Lord was all she could think, her hand to her mouth. She walked to the window overlooking the backyard, unmindful of the vegetable gardens and fruit trees in her view, seeing only the look in Noah’s eyes.

  Did he really feel that way for her? Did she want him to? Although she’d been drawn to Noah since the first day she’d seen him again—and enjoyed renewing their friendship—she hadn’t let herself think beyond that.

  Why? What was she so afraid of?

  Ever since Ralph’s death and her miscarriage, she hadn’t allowed herself to think of remarriage. First, there had been the war years, then she’d thrown herself into her work, convincing herself that was her life’s calling.

  Why did the feelings Noah stirred in her scare her so?

  The thought came slowly, like the unfurling of a flower. Was it that she felt unworthy of being given a second chance at love and marriage…and possibly motherhood?

  Had Ralph’s death so soon after their marriage—followed so quickly by the loss of her unborn baby—left her feeling that God was punishing her for some failing of hers?

  No! She clutched her mouth. She’d never blamed God. But the thought wouldn’t leave her. She’d told Noah of God’s goodness and grace. Had part of her felt penalized for something she hadn’t done? “Dear Lord, forgive me….” Was that why she had condemned herself to a life alone and away from home?

  Her thoughts turned to Melanie, a little girl who clearly needed a mother’s love. Rianna’s heart swelled, wishing she could fill that role. The feeling startled her with its vehemence.

  And what of Noah? He was the first man since widowhood to make her long for things she thought long dead.

  He drew her the same way he had so many years ago. Back then she’d spurned him, afraid of the feelings he awakened in her. Nothing would keep her tied to Wood’s Harbor, she’d vowed, not when there was a whole world out there beckoning.

  And now?

  She knew she could never string Noah along—never again as she had when she’d been a thoughtless schoolgirl—not if she wasn’t ready to reciprocate his feelings.

  She’d never meant to hurt him, but she hadn’t been ready to settle down back then.

  Was she now? Her heart responded with a sudden longing that was her answer.

  Chapter Nine

  Rianna lingered by the gate, ostensibly to pick some flowers for the table, but every time she heard a step down the road, she couldn’t help glancing up to see who it was this time.

  Would Noah stop by when he got off his boat? Or had she rebuffed him with her fear? Did she want him to come? Would he act as if yesterday hadn’t happened at all? Did she want that?

  For so many years, she’d believed she must be on her own that the thought that Noah might love her both thrilled and terrified her at once. All she knew was she wanted—needed—to see him again. Then everything would sort itself out.

  Hearing a pair of footsteps, she jerked at the flower she was clipping. She looked up and saw Noah and Joe approaching. Carefully, she finished clipping the stem and placing it into her basket. Feeling more skittish than a young woman with her first beau, she stood, laying down the basket and smoothing her apron.

  As she stepped toward the gate, she saw that she needn’t have worried about rushing to catch them. Noah and Joe both stopped.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Bruce,” came Joe’s chipper tone followed by Noah’s quieter, “Afternoon, Rianna.”

  She put on her best smile and stepped forward. “Hello.” Before she could invite them both for tea, Noah turned to Joe.

  “You run along. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Rianna and Noah both watched the departing boy’s back. After he’d disappeared up the hill and there was no more reason to direct their attention that way, the two turned back to each other.

  “Ria—”

  “Noa—”

  They both smiled self-consciously before Rianna, willing herself to be calm, said, “Go ahead.”

  He cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask you whether—” He stopped then started again. “Whether you might like to accompany me to the dance over at the Farmer’s Club? Tomorrow evening.”

  Rianna looked into his eyes, and she was back more than ten years ago—the last time Noah had asked her that question. It had been a few weeks that they had been dancing together at each one of his grandparents’ socials. Noah made her feel like a grown woman, and she had been proud to be singled out by such a tall, handsome young man. And even though she’d known him most of her life, that night he was looking at her differently and she was seeing him differently. They’d danced and laughed and talked, as usual. And she’d never enjoyed herself so much. And then he’d gone and ruined it all by asking her to a Farmer’s Club dance. She knew what that meant. It meant she would be “walking out” with him exclusively. Eventually he’d ask her parents for her hand, and her future would be sealed.

  No, she’d thought at the time, she wouldn’t go the route of so many young women. She was going to be different. No fisherman or farmer’s wife she. She was going to seek her fortune at the mills down south. And she’d told him so in no uncertain terms, and watched his confidence deflate and his enjoyment dissipate in a few brief moments.

  Rianna was back in the present, wondering if Noah remembered any of it. Why was he willing to take a similar risk again?

  She looked into those unsmiling eyes and knew he remembered. They both knew the implications of such an invitation now. They might be ten years older and widowed, but a man and a woman didn’t go out together without an understanding.

  Rianna’s fears of the day before returned and she opened her mouth to say “no” but found herself saying instead, “I would be honored to accompany you, Noah.”

  He nodded, and the two smiled hesitantly, a little fearfully, at each other, as if sealing an accord.

  Then Noah cleared his throat, breaking the tension of the moment. “Good then. I’ll come by and pick you up around six tomorrow evening. Is that all right? Should I ask your mother or father?”

  Rianna’s smile grew a little wider as she shook her head. “Noah, I’m a twenty-seven-year-old widow. You do not need to ask my parents’ permission.”

  He answered with a smile, a freer, more relaxed smile than she’d seen on his face in years. With a touch of his hat, he bid her goodbye and set off down the road.

  She watched him until he was out of sight, and heard him whistling the way Joe had. She hadn’t heard him whistle before, either.

  The next morning as she sat in the sun, drying her hair in anticipation of the evening’s festivities, her father approached her.

  “You look awfully grave on such a beautiful morning,” she said to him. “What’s the matter?”

  “You tell me.” With that, he held out an envelope to her. “You got a telegram.”

  “Me?” Taking out the sheet of paper from inside, she unfolded it carefully and began to read. “Oh, no!”

  “What is it, dear?”

  She met her father’s concerned eyes. “It’s my patient, Mr. Whitestone. They say his end is near. They want me to come back immediately. He’s been asking for me.” Shoving the paper into her pocket, she began to turn away, already thinking of all the things she’d have to do before leaving. “I must go—but, Papa, how can I?”

  “We’ll be all right here, dear. You know your mother is nearly better. You go do what you have to.”

  She knew she had to go, but for the first time, she felt reluctant to do her duty as a nurse. There was so much calling her to stay here in Wood’s Harbor…

  She sighed deeply. “I wouldn’t go if the situation weren’t so grave. I need to know he’s accepted the Savior. I’ve prayed so much, but he’s been so hard.”

  Her father put his arm around her. “I understand. Let’s go tell your mother.”

  They moved toward the door, and then Rianna remembered. “Noah! Oh, Papa, what about the dance? What’ll I tell him?”
r />   “He’ll understand.”

  “I know. It’s just that—” How could she voice her fears to her father? Would Noah understand, or would he think she was pushing him away again? Or worse, outright deserting him? And what of Melanie? Would the little girl understand that she wouldn’t forget her? That she’d be back—hopefully soon?

  She had no time to think of it anymore just then. There were a million things to do before the steamer left at dusk.

  All day she thought of Noah and Melanie, knowing she must see Noah as soon as he got back from fishing to explain the situation to him. As she ran around putting things in order, her mind was ticking off the hours until his return.

  “Mama, how can I leave you right now? I’m going to talk to Mrs. Myers down the road to see if she can come in every day to do the heavy work.”

  Mrs. Devon nodded. “Don’t worry about me. The women at the church will look after me, as well. Besides, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “What’s that?” Rianna came to sit beside her mother. “Is something wrong?”

  “Oh, no. Quite the contrary. I know you’ve realized I’ve improved, but I haven’t wanted to tell you just how much better I’m doing until I was really sure.”

  Rianna widened her eyes. “What is it?”

  She held out her arm. “Yesterday, I woke up and realized all the numbness was gone from this arm.”

  Rianna stared at her mother, her mouth opened in wonder. “Oh, Mother!”

  Her mother nodded. “Jesus healed me. I knew He had that night when everyone prayed for me. Each morning since then, I’ve felt a new strength, a vitality in me that wasn’t there before.”

  “Oh, Mother, praise be to God!” The two women hugged hard as they laughed and cried together.

  “Oh, Mama, I don’t want to leave now!” she wailed when they sat apart once again.

  Mrs. Devon smoothed Rianna’s hair. “I know you don’t. But haven’t you said you’ve been praying for Mr. Whitestone’s soul for a long time now?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t think there’s many folk who harden their hearts against their Maker in those final moments. Don’t you want to make sure there’s someone there with him who can testify one last time?”