To Be a Mother Page 11

  “You’re staying?” Emily screeched.

  Lorena leaned forward to protect her ears.

  “I’m staying.”

  Lorena stood. “Well, then I’m staying longer. Come help me down. I’m not going to leave now and miss my son’s wedding.”

  Jules released Olivia’s hand long enough to help his mother and niece to the ground. Lorena hugged both of them, as did Emily.

  Joy filled Olivia to overflowing at their generous acceptance and love. She was indeed special to God. And at long last she was special in the eyes and hearts of people she loved and who loved her in return.

  Jules had shown her that looking forward held more promise than looking back. She was going to be Jules’s wife and Emily’s mother. From here on out, it didn’t matter where’d she’d come from or who she’d been. All that mattered was where she was going and who she’d become.

  “Thank You, Lord, for my family.”

  Dear Reader,

  I loved every moment writing Mountain Rose. Olivia Rose and young Emily are two characters who deserved to find a home and a family who wanted them. There’s something deeply satisfying about devising ways for story people to find fulfillment in relationships and in their walk with our Heavenly Father.

  Mother’s Day is a special holiday for many of us, a time when we express our appreciation for the women who have shaped our lives and reflect upon those who have loved us and sacrificed on our behalf. I wish those of you with children a lovely Mother’s Day. May you take time to reflect on your blessings and perhaps even indulge in a little chocolate. You are special, after all.

  Blessings,

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  Because of her lack of family, Olivia encouraged herself with the knowledge that God loved her. We must know who we are in Christ and appreciate what Jesus has done for us in Heaven in order to understand our significance to God. What does the Bible say about your importance to Him?

  In order to find Emily’s family, Olivia put her trust in Isaiah 41:10, a verse that tells us God is always with us. Can you remember a time when your situation looked impossible, but when you placed your confidence in God’s Word? When God was faithful to His promise, what did that do for your faith in Him?

  Have you ever had to start over in a new community or school where no one knew you and everything was unfamiliar? What advice about making new friends would you offer someone like Olivia or Emily?

  Jules had the impression that God had more important things to do than concern Himself with his trivial issues. John 14:14, Matthew 18:19, John 16:24 and I John 5:14 are only a few of the verses that tell us we can ask anything of God and He hears us. What do you believe the Bible tells us about God’s concern for our daily lives?

  Jules picks up on the way Olivia finds comfort and strength in Scripture, and reads Psalm 116 for himself. Are there any particular verses that encourage you when you’re seeking guidance?

  Even though Jules had a forgiving nature and never held his mother to blame for his unpleasant childhood, she needed to apologize and know his forgiveness. Sometimes it’s easier to forgive another person than yourself. If there’s something you’ve been holding on to, would this be a good time to allow God’s mercy and grace to heal those wounds?

  Sometimes it’s difficult to be genuinely happy for another’s good fortune. When Olivia sees Emily being embraced by a loving uncle and grandmother, her own lack of family is a painful wound, but she is filled with joy over the child’s good fortune. What is the difference between desiring something and being jealous?

  Do you remember a holiday during which you had very little material wealth, but when you were grateful for God’s abundant love and the blessings of health and family?

  A FAMILY OF HER OWN

  Ruth Axtell Morren

  To the hardy people of coastal Maine, who haven’t changed so much over the years….

  He maketh the barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye the Lord.

  —Psalms 113:9

  Chapter One

  Wood’s Harbor, Maine

  1870

  Noah Samuels walked past the crumbling stone wall, noting the wild rose creeping over everything. He kicked at a shoot growing across the paving stones. Tenacious stuff once it got going, almost impossible to get rid of, its roots spreading everywhere.

  “Papa, why don’t we live here?” He glanced over at his daughter, who held his hand as they walked to the house he’d grown up in.

  “It’s been sitting empty too long.” He remembered the place in his grandparents’ day. The lawn kept short by the grazing cow, the stone wall neatly stacked to form a boundary along the road, the walkway free of invading grass…

  He dismissed the memory. No point in reminiscing about things long past. He was here to check on the storm damage from a few nights ago.

  “Papa, who’s that?”

  His gaze followed Melanie’s pointing finger to the meadow beyond the dilapidated house and was arrested by the figure of a woman. She stood amid the tawny, uncut hay, staring out at the indigo bay beyond.

  Noah stopped, sensing something familiar in that straight, lithe figure. “I don’t know, sweetie.” Abruptly, he changed course, Melanie’s small hand clutching his. The closer he got to the woman, the stronger his impression grew.

  His memory didn’t picture the black dress, however. It remembered a light-colored frock and auburn hair held back with a big bow. Now, a full, black skirt disappeared into the sea of high grass. The dress was tightly cinched at the waist, emphasizing a small waist and slim torso. She held a straw hat in one hand, as if she couldn’t abide anything that prevented her from feeling the sea air across her face. The hat’s black ribbon danced in the breeze at her side.

  Her hair no longer hung down her back. It had been tamed into a thick knot, but its color hadn’t changed. Noah would never forget that rich auburn, which, like burning embers, didn’t reveal its fire until disturbed.

  He’d been sweet on her once. It was but a vague memory now, that last year of his youth. Oh, he’d been full of dreams then, too. Not for the wide world, as she. His gaze drifted past the woman to the inky-blue bay beyond. Who needed to travel far from home, when he had the best of the world right here at his fingertips? He’d been itching to be a fisherman full-time since the day he was old enough to be taken out in his father’s boat.

  The woman hadn’t moved. Noah cleared his throat.

  She turned.

  Noah stared.

  She no longer had the fresh-faced look of a schoolgirl. Yet the expectancy of the girl remained, in the slightly widened eyes and half-parted lips. Her light brown eyes, the color of cider, he used to think, traveled from him to Melanie. There her gaze lingered, before coming back to his, a question in her eyes.

  She made a small sound, between a cough and a laugh. “I believe I’m on your land.” Not an apology exactly, yet an acknowledgment of the facts.

  He ignored her words, saying only, “Hello, Rianna.”

  She touched her hair, before quickly returning her hand to its place.

  “I’m surprised you recognized me. It’s been a few years.”

  He didn’t return her smile. “The years have treated you well.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t complain.” She looked at Melanie again and smiled. “Hello.”

  Melanie took a step closer to him and gave a quick bob of her head.

  “This is my daughter, Melanie.”

  “Your daughter.” Rianna breathed the word, as if in awe. Then her smile returned and she extended her hand. “How do you do, Melanie? My name is Rianna Bruce. I used to live here in Wood’s Harbor.”

  The two shook hands, Melanie’s gaze solemn.

  Rianna turned back to the bay, taking a deep breath. “It revives me.” She glanced over her shoulder at them, smiling. “Do you smell it?”

  Melanie sniffed the air, looking puzzled. Noah inhaled, smelling only the sea mingled with the sweet ha
y.

  “I call it sea and roses. It brings everything right back again, as if I’d never been away.”

  Melanie’s mouth broke into a wide smile. “I can smell it!” She turned to him with a triumphant look. “It’s the roses, Papa.”

  Rianna took another breath before walking toward the old house. Noah followed her, Melanie skipping along beside him.

  When Rianna reached the house, she touched its weathered shingle exterior. “It’s yours now, is it not?”

  His reply was more a grunt than a word, but she took it as an affirmative.

  “We used to have such amusing times here. I always remember the parties.”

  “You came to my great-grammie and -grampie’s?” Melanie asked with childish wonder.

  Rianna gave another laugh, a sound so clear and sparkling, Noah was startled for an instant, thinking he was back at one of those socials over a decade ago, hearing her laughter above the crowd of young people gathered. “Yes, dear, I certainly did. Your papa can tell you all about it.”

  Melanie glanced up at him, a question in her deep brown eyes.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  Rianna’s eyes held a familiar twinkle. “I remember the way your papa’s grandfather would roll back the carpets and pick up his fiddle. His gnarled finger would pluck a few strings and we knew the music was coming. Everyone would stand up and form lines.” She smiled in reminiscence. “How his bow would fly over that fiddle and how we’d dance.”

  Noah couldn’t help being caught back to that time—a time he hadn’t thought about in an age. Melanie seemed captivated, as well, her attention riveted on Rianna.

  “Then your great-grandmother would bring out a tray of lemonade or mulled cider, depending on the season, and warm molasses cookies, so large and soft. Mmmmmm. She made the best cookies.”

  “Mrs. Avery has taught me how to make sugar cookies.”

  Rianna smiled at his daughter. “Has she, dear? That’s a very useful thing to know.” Rianna turned her attention back to the house. “Do you have any plans for it?” Her question was brisk and matter-of-fact, as if relegating all talk of the past firmly to its place.

  With effort, he shook aside the thoughts of those bygone times and looked at the house. The house that held those memories…memories he’d firmly stamped out to the last dying ember.

  It was his turn to touch the old dwelling, reaching out to tug at a vine growing over the pine-green door, its paint badly chipped. He yanked at the vine with his fingers, pulling it off and tossing it to the ground. “It’d take a lot to make this place livable again. Stood empty too long.” By his own choice.

  She tilted back her head to glance at the eaves. “Oh, I don’t know. It all depends on how sound the foundation is.”

  “I wish we could live here.”

  Noah eyed his daughter. She’d never expressed such a desire before. She’d barely been to the house.

  He turned away from it. Best not let Rianna fill his daughter with illusions. “What brings you back to these parts?” he asked Rianna, curious despite himself.

  “Mother. She’s been ailing, and I came up to help out until she’s back on her feet again.”

  He knew Rianna had become a nurse. “Of course. I heard your mother wasn’t doing well. How is she now?”

  “She’s better.” Her smile widened. “She enjoys having me back. We’ve spent hours catching up on everything. I think there’s nothing I don’t know about what’s happened in Wood’s Harbor in the last ten years.” Her amused glance encompassed Melanie. “Somehow, I missed your arrival, young lady. When did you come along?”

  Melanie returned her smile. “I just turned eight last month, ma’am.”

  “Oh, my, you’ll soon be a young lady.” She turned to Noah, her smile fading. “I’m sorry about Charlotte,” she said softly.

  He stared hard at her, as if suspicious of her sympathy then glanced at her widow’s weeds. “You’ve suffered your own loss.”

  She only nodded, her eyes studying him. Gradually her smile returned.

  He felt exposed somehow. “What’s so funny?”

  She blinked as if startled. “Was I smiling? I wasn’t aware.” She clasped her hands in front of her, and instead of answering, said, “Well, I’d best get back now. Mother will wonder what’s keeping me. She shooed me out, telling me to enjoy this fine weather. I promised to bring her back a little of it. I remembered the roses here and thought I’d pick her some. They have such a delightful scent.” She filled in her lungs again and smiled. “You caught me trespassing. I’m sorry.”

  Melanie’s eyes rounded at the mention of trespassing and she glanced up at him.

  “Sorry you trespassed? Or sorry I caught you?”

  Rianna’s eyes widened for an instant, and then she dissolved into laughter. Melanie giggled.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know when I do. It was very nice to meet you, Melanie. I hope we meet again while I’m here.”

  “It was nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Bruce.” The two shook hands.

  Rianna gave a wave. “Bye-bye.” She began walking toward the road.

  “You didn’t get what you came for,” he said without thinking.

  She turned midpath. “Oh, the roses!” She shrugged. “Well, now that the owner is here—”

  “Come, I’ll pick you some.” For some reason, he wanted to prolong her stay.

  He walked around the house to the backyard, its wide expanse overlooking the rocky bay. There against a crumbling stone wall grew the high shrubs of Rosa rugosa, that hardy species that endured every sort of buffeting, salt-laden wind. Taking a jackknife out of his pocket, he cut off a few stalks heavily laden with the deep pink, fragrant roses and deftly removed the thorns from the base with a flick of the sharp knife.

  “Here.” He presented the bouquet to her with no flourish, no pretty words, and yet the moment she reached out her hand, the thought crossed his mind that he hadn’t picked flowers for a woman since he’d first courted his wife.

  “Thank you, Noah,” she replied softly, taking the lush bouquet, careful to grasp it with her fingertips just where he held it, where the thorns had been removed. Their cool fingers touched briefly, but in that instant, a shock ran through him.

  Her eyes shot up to his, as if she’d felt it, too. A second later, she stepped back from him, her gaze fixed on the roses, frustrating his attempt to read her expression.

  “Oh, how pretty,” Melanie said, eyeing the flowers.

  They were perfect, just as Rianna remembered—deep fuchsia, velvety-soft petals with yellow centers, their heady fragrance already touching her nostrils. Her mother would enjoy them. Of course, that was why Noah had been so considerate. He’d remembered her mother. She looked up at him gratefully, composed now that she was on sure footing again. For a second, when his fingers had touched her, she’d felt shaken.

  Almost as badly as the moment she’d beheld his daughter.

  Noah with a daughter. A daughter just a little younger than hers would have been. The thought had shot through her lightning swift, leaving a sense of pain, regret and loss in its wake.

  Why hadn’t she heard about Melanie? Why hadn’t her mother told her in all these years?

  “I’ll pick you a bouquet, too, sweetie,” Noah told his daughter, his voice softening as he addressed the girl.

  Rianna watched him cut the stems. “You’ve grown a beard since I left.” It made him look older, more rugged. But no less handsome. He had been the handsomest young man in Wood’s Harbor. So handsome, she’d been in danger of losing her heart. It had made her run. Had she made the wrong decision back then? “But I still recognized you.”

  Melanie answered for him. “Papa always grows a beard in summer.”

  He rubbed his chin. “I let it grow in the summer and shave it off in winter.”

  “I would think you’d need the warmth in winter.”

  “In winter I don’t take the boat out before dawn and have time to shave every morning
.”

  “I see.” She looked away, her gaze caught by the black-eyed Susan, clover and daisies bobbing in the breeze. “I’ve worked so hard on Mother’s garden, and look at these.”

  Stretching out her arm toward the meadow, she quoted, “‘Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’”

  She turned in time to catch the frown on Noah’s face. “What’s the matter?”

  He shook his head. “I never thought to hear you spouting Scripture.”

  She burst into laughter. “Well, you know what they say.” She gave no further explanation, but with a half wave of her bouquet, she moved away. “So long, you two. Thank you again for the flowers. Mother will be touched.”

  “Come pick roses whenever you want,” he called after her.

  She glanced back briefly. He hadn’t moved, but stood with his daughter, the two looking at her. She nodded acknowledgment. “Thank you. I shall.” What a nice pair they made, father and daughter. The image gave her another pang.

  She quickly dismissed it, reminding herself she had dealt with her loss long ago. As she walked away from them, she had to resist the urge to turn around again, although she could feel Noah’s hard stare on her back all the way down the rutted, dirt road.

  Chapter Two

  “What can I do to help you, dear?” Mrs. Devon asked, looking around at Rianna’s supper preparations.

  “Oh, Mother, you didn’t have to get up.” Rianna straightened from the woodstove, shoving a strand of hair from her damp forehead.

  “Nonsense. You can’t expect me to lie around all the time, just because I feel a little weaker than normal.” She took a few slow steps to the kitchen table.

  “Here, sit down.” Rianna pulled out the wooden chair for her.