A Mother's Gift

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “If there’s coconut in it, it has to be tasty!” Lenore assured Margaret as she carried the bowl to the refrigerator.

  “You can be sure I’ll eat my share of it,” Esther remarked jovially as she held her coffee cup under the urn’s spigot.

  Leah was relieved that everyone migrated into the front room without needing any prompting from her. Gatherings like these reminded her how socially inept she was compared to most women who’d attended and hosted frolics all their lives. She plucked a bottle of goat’s milk from the pan of hot water on the stove and followed her guests with Betsy cradled against her shoulder, determined to make the best of this event for Mama’s sake.

  The ladies made a beeline for the quilting frame, and their compliments made Mama glow modestly.

  “Lenore, what a beautiful color combination!” Cora exclaimed.

  “And what a wonderful way to use scraps, instead of just piecing a nine-square pattern,” Anne said as she ran her finger over the design. “Where each of the four joined squares form a pinwheel, the design seems to move when you look at it.”

  “I hope you’ll let us copy your pattern,” Martha Maude said, leaning closer to the frame so she could study the quilt top more closely. “I’ve never seen this one, and we have bins and boxes of scraps at home we could use.”

  Esther wasted no time settling herself into the largest chair while her sister studied the quilt with a critical eye. “Mighty showy, with all those bright colors and prints,” Naomi remarked. “Surely can’t be for a Plain home.”

  Mama appeared unfazed by this comment. “The English lady who ordered it provided the print pieces and asked me to make her quilt very colorful,” she explained as she took the spot beside Martha Maude. “She says it’s a gift for a niece who’ll go off to college next fall.”

  As the other ladies took seats around the quilting frame, Jude passed through the front room with Stevie beside him. He flashed a thumbs-up sign at Leah before stopping to look at the quilt the women would be working on. “Very cheerful,” he commented before greeting each of the ladies. “I recognize fabric from some of the new clothes Lenore has made us.”

  “Jah, there’s my new green shirt—and my new purple shirt!” Stevie chimed in as he pointed excitedly to pieces near the edge. “This would make a real nice blanket for the new goats, ain’t so, Mammi Lenore?” he teased.

  Mama laughed as she threaded her quilting needle. “It would,” she agreed, “but don’t go telling the goats about it, or they’ll feel bad when I take it to the lady who ordered it.”

  “No auction today, Jude?” Margaret asked as she clipped thread. “Friday’s usually a big day for sales.”

  “Nope, so we men are going to make a few repairs in the barns and outbuildings,” Jude replied. “I can tell there’ll be a whole lot of clucking going on here in the house.”

  “Jah! Bwahk-bwahk-bwahhhk!” Stevie crowed, flapping his bent arms like wings.

  “That’s what hen parties and frolics are all about,” Lenore said as she rumpled the boy’s hair. “You’ll probably want to stop through the kitchen for a few goodies before you head outside. Might not be any left when you come in for lunch.”

  Leah sat down in the wooden rocking chair and gave Betsy her bottle, delighting in the way the baby ate with such gusto. Maybe it was her imagination, but lately Betsy seemed to recognize her—to reach excitedly with her dimpled arms. Or maybe she’s just hungry and ready for her bottle, Leah reasoned as she smiled at the baby and rocked. It’s nice to have someone who’s so happy to be with me . . . who needs me.

  Across the front room, the girls were seated around a rectangular folding table to play a game of Yahtzee. Leah was pleased to see that Emma and Lucy Miller were helping five-year-old Gracie, who sat between them.

  The women at the quilting frame talked quietly, focused on making their tiny white stitches along the swirling lines Mama had stenciled on the quilt top. As Leah burped the baby and sang softly to her, she had to agree with the girls: quilting seemed like such a tedious way to pass a day, even though the end result was always beautiful. As little Betsy drifted off, Leah smoothed her silky brown curls. Like most Plain babies, she was able to ignore the noise around her—even the repeated rattling of the Yahtzee dice in the cardboard cup, as well as the occasional cry of “Yahtzee!” when one of the girls rolled all five dice alike.

  Leah glanced at the clock, sighing inwardly. The ladies had been quilting less than an hour, yet already she felt unsettled and somewhat bored. On a normal day, she would be putting Betsy in her basket and heading outside with it to clear the winter’s dead leaves from the fencerows or to help Stevie tend the new lambs and kids. The girls were avidly engaged in their game, and the women were engrossed in their stitching. . . and even though Rose and Cora occasionally smiled at her and Betsy, Leah felt more than ever like a fish out of water.

  She lasted an hour and a half before she had to get busy at something. Carefully she slipped Betsy into her padded basket on the kitchen table and set about filling a carafe with hot coffee from the urn. She cut the frosted cinnamon rolls and arranged some of them on two trays along with brownies and cupcakes, figuring she could at least be a considerate hostess.

  Leah stepped out of the kitchen with the carafe just in time to catch Naomi running her finger along the bottom of a windowpane—and then raising her eyebrow as though she’d found a frightful amount of dust. Leah’s throat got tight, and she hurriedly set the carafe on the sideboard near the quilting frame. As she returned to the kitchen, she tried to recall Jude’s long-ago reassurances that he wasn’t the least bit concerned about a little dust—or about the neighbors’ opinions of it—but it still took her a few minutes to settle her nerves.

  When Leah figured Naomi would’ve returned her attention to Mama’s quilt, she carried one of the trays to the girls’ table and was met with an enthusiastic response.

  “I just got a Yahtzee!” little Gracie crowed as she smiled at Leah. “I rolled five whole sixes!”

  “Gut for you,” Leah said as she set the tray on the table. “I’m glad you girls are having fun together.”

  When Leah returned to the front room with the other tray of treats, however, the Slabaugh sisters looked up at her as though she’d committed the ultimate sin. “Food is never served near a quilting frame,” Naomi informed her stiffly. “How do you think your mother’s quilt would look if we had frosting on our fingers as we stitched?”

  Esther’s expression softened as she eyed the cinnamon rolls. “This would be a gut time for a goodie break in the kitchen, however,” she said quickly. “You can only sit and stitch for so long before you need to get up and stretch.”

  Leah set the tray on the sideboard beside the coffee carafe, her eyes growing hot with unshed tears. Ordinarily she didn’t let criticism bother her—she’d grown accustomed to folks thinking she was an odd duck—yet Naomi’s brusque remark had only underscored her feelings of being different from other women.

  “It was nice of you to think of us, Leah,” Mama put in consolingly.

  Cora rose from her chair to stretch. “My word, we’ve been stitching for more than an hour and a half,” she said as she glanced at the wall clock. “The time just flies when I’ve got a needle in my hand—but my back will be telling me I sat in one position too long if I don’t move around a bit.”

  As if they wanted to soften Naomi’s remark, the other ladies stood up, too, but Leah had lost all interest in the tray of treats she’d brought them. Anne Hartzler smiled at her, her freckled face alight with kindness. “Little Betsy’s asleep? She’s such a quiet, sweet little baby, and you seem as comfortable with her as if she were your own, Leah.”

  “We—we’re blessed to have her,” Leah stammered, deeply pleased about Anne’s compliment. “I give thanks to God every day for guiding her desperate mother to bring Betsy to our home.”

  A short, humorless laugh on the other side of the room made everyone turn toward the table where the girl
s were playing. “The more I see you and Betsy together, the more I believe that you are her mother, Leah,” Alice asserted loudly. “I mean, she looks just like you. I think you kept her hidden away while Dat courted you, and then had Lenore leave her on the porch with that fake note, to make it look like Betsy had been abandoned.”

  “Maybe that explains why you’re always warning us to beware of guys who come on to girls and then get them pregnant,” Adeline chimed in as she and her twin gazed accusingly at Leah. “Could be you’re speaking from experience, ain’t so? Keeping your secrets and sins from Dat until after he’d married you!”

  The bottom dropped out of Leah’s stomach. The front room rang with absolute silence as her guests stood wide-eyed, too flabbergasted to speak—while wondering if the twins had exposed the truth. As the blood rushed from her head, Leah fumbled for words to refute the twins’ incriminating remarks, yet she sensed that her crestfallen expression—her tongue-tied inability to defend herself—confirmed her guilt to the women standing around Mama’s quilting frame. The gleeful gleam in Naomi’s eyes made Leah pivot and rush to the kitchen.

  By the time she reached the door, she heard Mama reprimanding the twins, but it was too late—Leah was too mortified to remain in the same room with those hateful teenagers. As she ran across the lawn toward the barn, all she could think about was getting away from this place where she’d never felt welcome, never felt accepted by Jude’s brazen daughters.

  By sundown it’ll be all over Morning Star that I deceived Jude, because Naomi’s just waiting to spread the news! Alice and Adeline will never stop harassing me—and those ladies will believe their lies over anything an outsider like me can tell them, she fretted as she ran through the open barn door. Nearly blinded by tears, she headed straight for Mose’s stall, where her gelding looked up from the hay he was munching. His big brown eyes took in Leah’s agitation with an air of wise understanding that horses displayed so much more often than people

  “Let’s go, Mose,” Leah blurted as she grabbed his bridle from its peg. “We’re getting out of here.”

  Always eager to stretch his legs, the gelding whickered and stood still as Leah quickly fastened the bridle around his head. As she’d done in her younger days, she hiked up her dress and leapt onto the horse’s back stomach-first before swinging her leg over him. Leah was vaguely aware that Jude was calling to her as she raced out of the barn, but the pounding of Mose’s hoofbeats drove her on. Gripping the horse with her legs and leaning low over his neck, she gave the gelding his head and ran full-tilt toward the road.

  Chapter 16

  “Leah! Leah, what happened?” Jude shouted as he ran from the barn. When she didn’t turn to look at him—urged Mose into a full gallop as though demons from hell were chasing her—apprehension overwhelmed him. His wife was no sissy. What could possibly have upset her so badly that she would race away from her guests?

  “Dat, where’s Leah goin’ in such a hurry?” Stevie asked as he joined Jude outside to follow Mose’s progress to the road. “She was cryin’ so hard she didn’t even see us.”

  Jude’s gut clenched. His son had just confirmed a detail he’d missed because he’d been driving a nail when Leah had entered the barn. “I’m going after her—but you stay here, Stevie,” he added quickly. “Don’t worry, son, I’ll bring her home and we’ll get this situation figured out.”

  A few minutes later, Jude was urging Rusty down the lane, aware that his bay gelding was much more accustomed to pulling a rig than galloping with a rider on his back—and also aware that it had been years since he’d ridden a horse bareback. To keep from losing his hat, he tucked it under his thigh. When they reached the road, Jude steered the horse to the right, as Leah had done—but after that, all he had to go on was instinct. She was nowhere in sight, and the dust Mose had kicked up had already settled.

  Where would Leah go? Surely she wouldn’t head for her mamm’s place clear over in Cedar Creek . . .

  If she’s going there, she’ll at least slow her horse to a walk; he can’t run for the entire hour it takes to reach the Otto farm.

  As the brisk wind caught at Jude’s open barn jacket, it occurred to him that Leah hadn’t been wearing a coat—her dress had been a deep red blur against the gray sky as she’d galloped away. Although he urged Rusty along the shoulder of the road, the poor horse was already huffing clouds of steam and slowing down as the wind whipped at his black mane—which made Jude think his chances of catching up to Leah were slim to none.

  Be smart about this. No matter how upset she is, Leah will come to her senses before she’ll risk injuring Mose—and she has to be getting terribly cold by now.

  Jude allowed Rusty to find his own pace as they passed the Flaud place and the Hartzler farm. He gazed across the pasture where Saul Hartzler’s Black Angus cattle huddled together for warmth, watching him curiously. The fences around these properties would prevent Leah from cutting across them—and as he studied the wooded area along the border of Jeremiah’s land, he didn’t think she would’ve ridden into the trees, either.

  As Jude approached the main road of Morning Star’s business district, his thoughts went into a tailspin. The sky was hung with heavy gray clouds and the first snowflakes stung his face. When snow came this late in the winter, it rarely stayed on the ground long—but today it was surely a nuisance. He halted his horse until a few cars went by, gazing to the right and to the left and ahead of him.

  “Rusty, you have a better idea where Mose went than I do,” he said as he stroked the gelding’s warm cinnamon-colored neck. “From here Leah could’ve gone around to the south, or across town, or—well, I have no idea, fella,” he added with a sigh.

  When the way was clear, Jude followed his instinct and steered Rusty along the shoulder of the main road rather than crossing it into town. Considering Leah’s emotional state, he didn’t think she would’ve ridden in traffic or in front of Plain businesses where local folks might’ve recognized her—or called out to her about why she wasn’t wearing a coat.

  Maybe by now she’s so cold she’s turned back toward home.

  Jude sighed and kept scanning the farmland he was passing. Leah hadn’t been all that excited about the quilting frolic—had gone along with the idea because she knew her mother would enjoy the company of other women after living alone these past few months. It seemed unlikely that his wife would return to the house until she thought the neighbor ladies were gone.

  She might’ve slipped into somebody’s barn. Or maybe she went into a store in town to get warm. Now that Lenore’s at our place, I can’t think of a single woman Leah would run to while she’s in such a state of turmoil....

  Leah’s lack of female friends saddened Jude—but it occurred to him that sooner or later, his wife would return home because she was totally devoted to little Betsy. She was more able than most women to look after herself, even if she had taken off like a shot without a coat, so Jude relaxed a little. . . let his mind travel down its own paths rather than trying to force ideas to come.

  Rusty had slowed to a walk. The snow contained tiny pellets of sleet and pinged against Jude’s face as it sparkled like diamonds in the gelding’s black mane, and it showed no sign of letting up. He hated to head for home without Leah, yet in his mind he could hear her scolding him for needlessly keeping his horse out in the cold while he was searching for her. With a sigh, Jude guided his gelding east at the next intersection to go home by another way—on another couple of roads Leah might’ve followed, he told himself.

  He brushed the snow from his hair and crammed his hat back on his head, his eyes never leaving the fields and lanes of the Plain farms he rode past. The evergreens in the Slabaugh sisters’ windbreak were taking on the lace of a snow cover, and as Jude glanced at their white farmhouse, he thought it appeared as tightly fastened and austere as the maidels themselves. Beyond the house sat a prim white barn and another outbuilding—and then a flash of red out in the stubbled cornfield made Jude suck in his
breath.

  “Leah!” he hollered as he nudged Rusty into the Slabaughs’ lane. “Leah, please wait!”

  All Jude could figure was that Leah was trying to find a shortcut home, rather than following the roads—and at that moment he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that he’d found her, and that she’d stopped Mose to look at him. He urged Rusty into a canter, thankful that his bay seemed to realize they’d fulfilled their mission and would soon be returning home to the warm barn.

  Jude’s heart was hammering as he sped across the closely cropped cornfield, his gaze fixed on Leah. Never mind that she sat hunched against the wind and snow and that her hair hung in wet, uneven clumps around her neck. To him, she’d never seemed more beautiful or a more welcome sight for his worried eyes. Only when he was a few yards away did he rein in the horse. When Rusty came up alongside Leah and Mose, Jude slung his arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulled her close for a clinging, desperate kiss.

  “I thought I’d lost you—couldn’t understand why you’d—” Jude rasped before he kissed Leah again. “My stars, woman, don’t ever scare me this way again! What would I do if you didn’t come home?”

  When he felt her shiver, Jude shrugged out of his barn coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. Still holding her as close as the two horses’ bodies would allow, he gazed around them. “Let’s head for the barn. We’ve got to get you out of this snow, sweetheart.”

  * * *

  Leah let out a sob and allowed Jude to take her reins and lead Mose to the barn. She’d been five kinds of foolish to rush off without a coat, and two kinds of stupid to allow Alice’s and Adeline’s cutting remarks to get the better of her. When Jude hopped off Rusty to slide the barn door open, she was grateful that Mose had enough sense to get in out of the nasty weather and that Rusty immediately came inside with them. Because she’d left home in a silly, mindless snit, she’d caused two fine horses—and her wonderful husband—needless pain and exposure to the cold. It would serve her right if she caught a horrible cold for running off like a goose.