The Amish Mother. Rebecca Kertz

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СКАЧАТЬ more handsome features. Not that her husband hadn’t been good-looking. He had been, but she hadn’t noticed that at first. She had married him at a time that had been difficult for everyone, a time of mourning for him and the children, a time of concern that she might have made a mistake in agreeing to the marriage.

      But we found our way, Lizzie thought as she moved across the room. Time had healed Abraham’s grief and his gaze had lost the sadness. Then he had begun to appreciate everything that she had done for the family—taking care of the house, doing the wash, loving his children.

      They had married as strangers—he’d needed someone to care for his children after his wife had died, and she’d needed a life of her own.

      During the first months of her marriage to Abraham, she had slept in the sewing room after quilting long into the night. She had produced some beautiful quilts by their first anniversary, when Abraham had invited her to sleep in the master bedroom. Afterward she had worked on her quilts in the evening instead, with Abraham seated nearby in his favorite chair while the children had played cards or read stories.

      Since Abraham’s death, she had gone back to quilting through most of the night until she’d fall into bed exhausted and sleep only to awaken early to begin her chore-filled days. She enjoyed quilting and everyone complimented her on her handiwork. She had recently sold one of her quilts at Beachey’s Craft Shop, the money coming in at a time when they needed it. Ellen Beachey, the shopkeeper, had been gracious in taking her quilts and craft items so that she could earn much-needed cash.

      She crossed to the sewing room off the bedroom and picked up one of her colorful quilt squares. Her mind reeled with emotion as she went to work. As she began to make tiny, even stitches in the fabric, she thought of Abraham and the children and how difficult their father’s death had been for them, how hard it had been to lose their mother two years earlier. They were wonderful children, and she loved them.

      Would having Zack and his family here help her relationship with the children or hinder it?

      She paused, closed her eyes and prayed. Please, Lord, help us to become a family. Don’t let me lose everything I gained when I married Abraham. A family. A home. Children who needed her.

      Mary Ruth’s and Hannah’s sweet behavior would have made her feel at peace, if not for the knowledge that Zack would return soon and disturb the life she’d made for herself with the children.

       Ah, Abraham, I’m sorry. ’Twas my fault that you’re no longer with us.

      Tears filled her eyes as she plied needle to cloth in tiny, even stitches. She recalled her husband’s face and his eyes, which had eventually looked at her with more than kindness, with caring that had turned into love. In the months before he died, Abraham had begun to see her as a wife rather than a housekeeper and helpmate.

      She sniffed as she set down her sewing and rose. She was tired. She undressed by candlelight, carefully removing the straight pins securing her dress, and got ready for bed. She brushed her hair, recalling with a smile when she’d brushed out her youngest daughter’s hair earlier.

      Her hip ached and she reached for the menthol and camphor salve to rub on the sore and swollen joint. The scent was strong, but she was used to it, welcomed it because any little pain relief was worth it. She could take aspirin or ibuprofen, but she’d used so much of it recently, she decided it was best to save it for when the pain became unbearable without it.

      She moved toward the bed, pulled back the quilt and climbed onto the mattress. She heard a gentle knock on her bedroom door. “Ja?”

      “Mam?” The door swung open, and her youngest daughter, Anne, peeked inside, holding a flashlight.

      “Anne,” Lizzie murmured. She waved her in. “What’s wrong?”

      Her daughter approached the bed. “Mam, do you think our grossmama will like us?”

      Lizzie smiled reassuringly. “She will love you,” she said, believing it to be true. “You are her granddaughter. All of you children are her grandchildren. Why wouldn’t she love you? Love all of her kins kinner?”

      Annie tilted her head as she regarded her with unusually grown-up eyes. “Will she love you, too?”

      Lizzie smiled, unable to assure her when she didn’t know. “You are worrying too much, Anne. They will come and all will be well.”

      The child smiled. “I am glad. I want us all to be happy together. It is time for us—you—to be happy.”

      Lizzie reached for the girl’s hand, pulled her close. “I am happy,” she said sincerely. “You and your sisters and brooders make me very happy.”

      “Even though Mary Ruth can be sharp to you?”

      She nodded. “Ja, no matter what. I am happy with you all, and I love you.”

      Anne grinned and leaned over to hug her. “I love you, Mam.”

      Lizzie closed her eyes as she held on to her daughter. “I love you. You all are everything a mudder could ask for and more.” She released her child to pat her cheek. “Now run off to bed. We’ve a busy day tomorrow.”

      Annie nodded vigorously and spun to race out of the room, pausing on the threshold to glance back at Lizzie. “Danki.”

      Lizzie raised her eyebrows in question.

      “For being my mam,” Anne explained before she hurried on and shut the door behind her.

      Lizzie blinked against happy tears as she leaned to blow out the candle. As the room plunged into darkness, she relaxed and lay back against her pillow. She felt sleepy and hopeful for the first time in a long while.

      * * *

      The next morning she was up and ready to begin her day. Now that the dawdi haus was prepared for guests, she needed to clean the farmhouse. She made breakfast first, and soon the children joined her in the kitchen, ready to eat. Lizzie beamed at them as they sat down.

      “Hungry?” she asked. “I made pancakes, bacon, sausage and eggs.”

      “It looks goot,” Hannah said.

      “It tastes goot.” Matt had grabbed a piece of bacon and popped it into his mouth.

      “Matthew, mind your manners and put some on your plate.”

      “Ja, Lizzie.” Matt nodded, looking solemn, and then he grinned.

      Lizzie laughed; she couldn’t help it. The boy was looking at her with such delight that the pure joy of the moment deeply touched her. It was nice to hear laughter in the house again.

      Her older children helped the younger ones get their food. Lizzie watched with fondness as Rebecca cut up little Jonas’s pancakes for him.

      This is what family is about, she thought. Had she ever felt so lighthearted when she was a girl? She couldn’t recall laughing at the dinner table. Her mother had treated her differently than her siblings because of her disability. It was as if she’d been unable to accept that her daughter wasn’t perfect.

      “Anne, СКАЧАТЬ