by Cathy LaGrow
She’d chosen glass tables that allowed the light to shine through and dried flower arrangements that could be kept fresh with dusting. There were plenty of lamps, lots of comfortable chairs in which to sit and read. The décor reminded Brian of his mother’s house.
Minka’s well-worn Bible sat next to her favorite spot, along with a notebook, a pen, and a book of word puzzles, which she sometimes worked on late into the night. “I like to keep my mind busy,” she explained.
As Minka fetched a glass vase for the flowers, Ruth and Brian walked around the living room, looking at photographs displayed on the shelves. Many of them were of Ruth and her children.
“How come our pictures are up already?” Brian asked. “How did we rate that?”
Minka gestured to Ruth. “My daughter.” She poked Brian, began to laugh. “It’s because of my daughter that you rate!”
Brian and Ruth began to bring out the things they’d brought for Minka. There were albums brimming with Lee family photos. A thick folder holding a complete copy of the adoption records—all 272 pages in protective sleeves, including all of the letters Minka had sent over so many years. The letters had been penned during such turmoil and so long ago that Minka couldn’t remember the words they contained.
Ruth presented Minka with the card she’d written at the hotel and the ceramic angel figurine. Then Brian and Teresa gave a second angel figurine and their own card.
Minka,
This Angel of the Heart is a reminder of how you always carried Ruth in your heart. We feel so lucky and so fortunate to have found you. God was watching over us and guiding us to this very happy day. Brian loves having a Grandma Minka.
All our love,
Brian, Teresa, Annya & Taylor
Minka gazed up at her new grandson and granddaughter-in-law and thanked them.
“And there’s more,” Teresa said, giving Minka handwritten letters from each of Ruth’s six children—letters of love and thanks. Minka matched letters with the faces in the albums, trying to memorize the names. These were her family. Her grandchildren. And their letters to her, offering a warm welcome into their lives, were beyond a treasured gift. She had no words for such joy.
After lunch, visitors arrived at the small apartment. Minka’s army of friends had been stunned to discover the elderly woman’s secret. They’d marveled at how she beamed talking about her long-lost daughter and the miracle of her return. Minka had invited them to stop by to meet Ruth, with the admonition that they couldn’t stay long. They came in droves, bearing gifts of cookies, bread, and soup. Soon Minka’s friends were hugging Ruth, Brian, and Teresa like they were their family too.
Minka introduced Ruth with her arm around her daughter’s waist.
“This is Ruth!” she announced over and over, then couldn’t resist adding, “This is my Betty Jane.” Ruth, always comfortable with strangers, smiled and laughed, learning names as she discovered each person’s connection to Minka. She repeated tidbits from her biography: where she’d grown up, how many children she had. “Yes, six children!” she’d say with a laugh at the wide eyes.
Minka was unaware that she kept watching Ruth’s face, searching it for all she’d missed, memorizing the curve of her cheeks, the sparkle of her eyes.
Brian and Teresa mingled, chatting with Minka’s friends, while Grant roamed with his camera. “Yes, it is remarkable, isn’t it?” they all said.
Late that afternoon, Grant and Brian drove to the airport to pick up Dianna. She was finishing her bachelor’s degree at a college in Oregon and could stay only one night, but she wanted to meet her sister. Before she even got inside the apartment, Minka and Ruth were pulling her in for hugs. “I always wanted a sister,” each woman said. Minka was radiant.
Ruth and Dianna were both grandmothers now. But that night, for the first time ever, Minka and her daughters would all sleep under the same roof.
* * *
On Saturday morning, Minka made breakfast for everyone while grandsons Grant and Brian made repairs to Minka’s apartment, sealing a leaky shower and installing a new garbage disposal. Then, after a round of hugs, Grant and Dianna reluctantly left to fly back to Oregon. The rest of the group went for a long drive down the coast.
As the freeway jogged close to the shoreline, Ruth watched the white-capped waves below and listened to her mother talk about her long life in this tropic-like part of the country. Ruth had never been to the Pacific coast before.
They drove past San Onofre, where a massive nuclear generating station clung to the shoreline, a bleached-out local eyesore. They passed Camp Pendleton, where thirty years earlier a young Brian had done rifle training with the marines. Minka talked about one of her volunteer projects, putting together care packages to send to deployed troops. At times, Minka’s garage was filled with donated items waiting to be sorted.
Only two months before, Minka had been navigating these freeways herself. But then her “wheels” broke down, and she’d sold her car to a repair shop. At the age of ninety-four, her driving days were finally over.
Already, Minka and Ruth fit together like two halves of a friendship necklace. They patted and fussed over each other. Whereas most people, even with loved ones, come from opposite sides of a conversation to meet in the middle, these two seemed to think and move as one person.
Brian and Teresa noted how alike mother and daughter were—it was uncanny. Minka and Ruth were both hard workers who loved to serve others and always stayed on top of things. They had good instincts and could peg a person immediately. Although both were frugal, they loved to decorate themselves with jewelry. And during overlapping years, Minka had worked at Kmart and Ruth at Walmart. They even dressed alike, with no prior arrangement.
Minka and Brian had instantly settled into a loving banter that would define their relationship. Brian would tease. Minka would cut her eyes at him, then look pointedly at a companion as if to say, What am I supposed to do with him? Then she’d throw the teasing right back at him.
It had been twenty-five years since Brian’s grandma Lee had died. Teresa’s note was correct; he loved having a grandma again.
* * *
That evening Minka’s granddaughter Dawn came to meet the Lees. Having lived with Minka for many years, Dawn thought she knew most everything about her—she’d been stunned to learn of Minka’s first child and the story surrounding her conception. But any concerns Dawn might have had for her grandmother vanished within seconds of seeing her. Minka simply glowed. And Dawn adored Ruth immediately.
Minka’s longtime friend Charlotte had invited them all to her home, which sat on a cliff overlooking the ocean.
While Dawn and Teresa drove away on a coffee run, Ruth and Brian walked with Minka to her friend’s house, savoring the warm evening and the delicious togetherness. Next door to Charlotte’s place was Jane’s old apartment building. Both sisters had been close to Charlotte, whose name they always pronounced in the German manner, “Shar-LOT.”
Minka paused in front of Jane’s old driveway.
“This is where Jane lived,” she said softly. She glanced at Ruth and Brian. “You would have liked her.” Minka’s heart still tugged toward this stucco building with the red tile roof. Oh, how she wished that her sister were still here, that she could have met Betty Jane at last.
Teresa and Dawn arrived at Charlotte’s with Starbucks beverages, and they all settled on the deck outside, in white chairs covered with bright-blue cushions. Far below, stretching over waves where surfers bobbed in the day’s last light, was a historic local pier that at the time of Ruth’s birth had been used as a smuggling point for bootleg liquor.
When the air outside cooled, the older women went back indoors. Charlotte and Minka gave Ruth a tour of the expansive home. Then they sat together in the living room to look at photo albums. Charlotte was eager to share stories.
“Minka is a genius with decorations, really,” she said. “Every year I asked her to plan my Christmas parties.”
“Ye
s, dinner parties,” Minka chimed in. “Sit-down dinners for, oh, forty people.”
“Right here?” Ruth asked, gazing around the fancy living room.
“Oh yes, right here,” Minka said. “In the early years I helped with the food, too. Did the appetizers and such. But then the parties got too big, so Charlotte hired caterers and I just did the decorations.”
“Look at this,” Charlotte said, pointing to a photograph of a miniature sailing ship. “She did that. Those were the party favors one year.”
“Oh, my, that’s beautiful!” Ruth said, bending closer. She touched her fingers to the plastic covering the photo. “Look at those little sails. All that detail.”
Minka watched Ruth’s hands moving over the album. Her own mother, Jennie, had been gone for nearly fifty years now, but Minka remembered everything about her.
And Ruth’s hands were a carbon copy of Jennie’s.
“Here’s another one,” Minka said. “This year,” she tapped a picture, “was snowmen. Every year we had a different theme.”
“And you made all of it?” Ruth asked, charmed.
“Oh, yes. We’d go to the craft store, months in advance,” Minka explained.
“Oh, I love doing crafts,” Ruth said. “I would’ve loved to have helped. One year I helped Teresa decorate her house for the Tour of Homes, when Brian was stationed in Illinois. We had a theme too . . . old-fashioned teddy bears.”
“Minka can do anything,” Charlotte said. “She sews, and does beautiful flower arrangements—”
“Oh, I love flower arranging too!” Ruth said. “And making pretty things. Every year I decorate our pumpkin stand at the house.”
“Sounds like an inherited trait,” Charlotte said with a smile.
* * *
That night Minka stayed up late baking an angel food cake from scratch and cutting up fresh strawberries. Sunday was Teresa’s birthday, and Minka realized this would be their first family celebration together.
The following morning, she had Brian pull out the enormous box Minka’s grandchildren had dubbed the “bling box,” the one holding all of her and Jane’s jewelry. After selecting a batch of necklaces, she called Ruth and Teresa into her bedroom.
“Do you like jewelry?” Minka asked. She was pretty sure she knew the answer. They’d been oohing and aahing over one another’s accessories for two days.
Ruth stopped, looked at Minka, raised her eyebrows.
“Do I like jewelry?” Ruth said emphatically. She looked at the display, moved closer.
The large box was filled with smaller boxes, dozens of them. Each container held clusters of earrings, rings, and necklaces, separated neatly by color. There was jewelry with elephants on it. Copper jewelry. Shell necklaces from Hawaii. Family heirlooms. Dangly earrings. Sparkly watches. Even a person who didn’t like jewelry could get caught up looking at the variety.
Ruth happened to have a deep and fervent love of jewelry. Almost as though she’d been born with it.
“I want you each to pick something out,” Minka said. “You can have a necklace to take home with you. Whichever you’d like.” She pointed to Teresa. “Since you’re the birthday girl, you get to pick first.”
After careful deliberation, Teresa chose a gold necklace with a single pearl pendant. Then it was Ruth’s turn. She ran her fingers over each strand, examined the stones and metals carefully, and decided on a heart with colored stones on it.
In all the excitement, Minka completely forgot that she had another gift for Ruth. Long after her guests departed, Minka would remember the item that was still tucked away in her closet. She would have to wait for another visit to finally give Betty Jane the gift that Jennie had brought back from Holland in 1930—a pair of little wooden shoes for the granddaughter she’d seen only once.
* * *
The three days of Ruth’s stay were stuffed full with time together, from coffee in the morning to late-night talks around the living room. There were no awkward silences or uneasy moments. Mother and daughter were perfectly in sync.
Despite Minka’s attempt to capture every moment, Monday came too quickly. She’d tried to slow time before, back in a house for unwed mothers, but then as now, nothing stopped the ticking clock.
Ruth, Brian, and Teresa had noon flights to catch, to Wisconsin and Alabama.
“We will be together again very soon,” Ruth said. Her bags were at her feet, and she held Minka’s hands. Minka nodded, feeling at peace. God had granted her blessings beyond what she’d asked, and Minka had no doubt that this was not the end.
“We’ll get you out to Wisconsin next. You can meet the rest of the family,” Teresa said.
“It will happen.” Brian’s voice was confident.
“I believe it,” Minka said. Never had she felt so complete. She’d carried the loss of her child through the many years until it was simply part of her, an ache she lived with through the decades. She’d loved so many people, lost them, worked as hard as the days allowed her. And now she was given new life, amplified.
As Brian carried the luggage to the car, Minka and Ruth walked together to the driveway. The hugging began with Teresa. Next Minka held Brian, the boy after her own heart, the one who had given her the greatest gift of her life, here toward the end of it.
Then Minka turned to her daughter. She was trying to remember to call her “Ruth,” but in Minka’s heart, she would always be “Betty Jane.” The daughter who’d been lost to her and was now found.
“Well, here we are,” Minka said, smiling.
“Yes,” Ruth said. Their identical blue eyes held each other. “It has been wonderful. So wonderful.”
As they hugged, Minka held on. Her throat was tight, but she willed herself not to cry.
“I love you,” Minka said, savoring the words, the fact of speaking them, the joy of their being heard. “I am so glad . . .” Her voice caught, but she pushed on. “I’m so glad Brian found me.”
“Me too, Grandma,” Brian said. He didn’t like good-byes, refused to even say the word good-bye. “We’ll see you again soon.”
They delayed at the car as long as they could. Brian turned on the engine, rolled down the car windows as Teresa got in front. Ruth settled in the back with her hand out the window. Minka took a few steps away from the car, and they waved, calling out good-byes as Brian backed out of the driveway.
Minka squinted in the sun, watching them drive away. After noticing her daughter turn around for one last look, Minka stood there unmoving for a long time. Then she walked back to her quiet apartment.
The moment Minka stepped in her doorway, the words came.
Now you can forgive him.
She stopped dead in her tracks. She was used to hearing God’s voice, to following His direction. And she knew exactly whom He was talking about.
Mack.
She had spent very little of her life thinking about Betty Jane’s father. She hadn’t harbored hatred or bitterness for the man. She’d decided long ago to focus on what she needed to do, what her own responsibilities were. She’d not really connected Mack to the nearly unbearable pain of giving up Betty Jane, the years of grief and loneliness that followed. But now she realized that Mack had been responsible, not just for the loss of her innocence but, far worse in her eyes, for the loss of her baby girl.
So for the first time in forever, she thought about the man who had changed everything in a few minutes. Maybe afterward he’d straightened himself out, had a family, regretted that hot August afternoon. Maybe Ruth had other siblings somewhere. There was no way of knowing.
For a moment, Minka imagined Mack as an old man on a May morning in 1989, watching the shuttle Atlantis blazing across his television screen as it headed to space. Had he ever imagined that his own grandson was on board?
Likely not. It was a thing beyond imagining.
Okay, Lord, Minka prayed, I forgive him. And she felt the weight and sorrow of the last seventy-seven years lifting from her body, from her very soul. This was
the wonder that only God could bring. He gave the forgiveness itself, the peace that covered the offense, and the healing that swept it away.
* * *
In the car, Ruth and Brian and Teresa felt as if they were pulling against a taut line that sought to draw them back.
“That was better than I could have ever hoped,” Brian said, thinking of the reunions he’d read about on websites and in news articles. This weekend hadn’t unfolded like any of those stories. They weren’t feeling their way around the edges of new relationships. It was as though they’d grown up together but had been busy lately. As though it had simply been too long between visits.
If brought into a room together, they would have all agreed, including Grant, Dianna, and Dawn, that from their first moments together, each had felt something magical and mysterious occurring.
Early in one century, a mother had given up her daughter. Early in the next century, she’d gotten her back. But this was not a group of strangers. They never had been.
They were family.
This was home.
Chapter Twenty-Five
RUTH WAS BEHIND the wheel, alone, when the road and sunshine disappeared.
She’d been driving along the open countryside of Highway 14, coming home from the airport in Madison with thoughts of her just-completed visit to see Mark and his family. She was wearing a pair of earrings that Minka had given her—stones in a gold setting—and a cross necklace she’d bought to match.
As she came down a hill near Readstown, she blacked out. Her car dropped into a ditch, hit a culvert, and launched into a dry creek bed.
She came to, disoriented and holding the steering wheel. As a passing motorist called for an ambulance, Ruth found her cell phone and called Charles to tell him she was okay and not to worry, but to come and help her.