The Angel of Forest Hill

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “I gotta go potty.”

  “Oh.” Mamm chuckled. “That’s quite direct, isn’t it? I like that.” She motioned. “Kumm.”

  Grace wriggled to get down and trotted behind as Mamm led the way.

  Elise stepped next to Rose. “Wow. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t that. This fills in a lot of blanks about how you respond to things. We could stay for an hour and head home.”

  “I have to stay for a little while, more than an hour, I think. I want to be different, Elise, to stop seeing myself the way I do. Whenever a problem needs to be worked out, her voice is louder than any others, telling me how I messed up everything. It’s not real, it’s not happening now, but I can’t hear anything else, and it’s threatening to ruin my marriage.” Rose paused. “Besides, in Mamm’s eyes what I did was find a church-approved way of leaving her on this dairy farm with my Daed, eleven brothers, and an unbearable amount of chores to do each day, so don’t judge her reaction too harshly.”

  Elise’s brows furrowed into a V. “She sees you for the first time in more than four years, and she didn’t even hug you.”

  “I didn’t think she would, even if she wanted to.”

  “Yeah, well, I packed a bag too just in case you needed me, and I think you do. If you stay the night, I stay. If you don’t mind. I can head home in the morning. With Gigi and Pap visiting, my kids won’t even notice I’m not there.”

  “Thank you.” Rose was grateful to have a friend who cared so much. She went inside and held the door for Elise.

  Mamm stood at the sink, adding water to the kettle.

  “Mamm, this is my friend Elise.”

  Mamm looked at her and nodded. “I’m Kate.” She turned off the water. “Either of you care for some tea?”

  “Ya. Denki.” Rose sat on a barstool at the island, and she gestured for Elise to do the same. Rose looked around the room. “You have new cabinets.”

  “No. I sanded them and added some fresh paint. I wish I’d left well enough alone, but the damage is done.”

  Grace came out of the bathroom and climbed in Rose’s lap. Rose kissed her head. “Would you like some tea?”

  Grace nodded. “With sugar and cream, right, Mama?”

  “Ya, of course.” When Grace was given tea, which wasn’t often, she liked more sugar and cream than tea.

  Grace folded her little hands and put them on the island. “Okay, Mammi Kate, let’s talk. What’s your favorite game?”

  Mamm’s eyes grew large, and she smiled before glancing at Rose. “Oh, I’m way too old for games. What’s yours?”

  “Poons.”

  Mamm looked at Rose, clearly hoping for a bit of help.

  “Spoons,” Rose said. “The card game where there is one less spoon on the table than there are people playing. The boys and I used to play it.” The “boys” were Rose’s eleven brothers.

  “But”—Grace wagged her finger—“you gotta grab the s-spoon fast, or they’ll disappear off the table.” Grace spread her arms out. “Poof. All gone. Too bad. So sad.”

  Mamm broke into laughter. “Well, you’re just a card yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Daed says I’m me, but I also take after both my Mamm and my Mama, and he says that’s the best recipe ever.” She nodded. “Yep. That’s what he says.”

  Mamm’s brows knit as her eyes searched Rose’s, and then she turned her attention back to Grace. “Do you know what I have?” Mamm asked while walking to the window seat. She lifted the lid and pulled out an old faceless cloth doll that had belonged to Rose and slid it across the island to Grace.

  “Look, Mama.” Grace held it up. “She’s missing her eyes, nose, and mouth, but she’s got ears. Why’s that?”

  “It’s called a faceless doll, and it’s just the way dolls were in this house, Grace.” Rose hadn’t ever felt as if she were missing her eyes, but she’d been keenly aware that she was supposed to listen with her ears and keep her mouth shut. An old dream she used to have came back to her, one where her jaws were wired shut.

  “Kumm.” Mamm motioned to Grace. “There are a few other toys in here too.”

  Grace wriggled down, leaving the doll there. She knelt in front of the window seat and pulled out a spinning top, plastic plates and utensils, and doll furniture. Memories of sitting right where Grace was came back to Rose—the carefree days before she turned six or seven and Mamm expected her to do the work of someone twice her age and with the same expertise. By the age of twelve, Rose was always in trouble for not doing flawless work, work that she now knew would take two women. And who did flawless work? Certainly not Rose.

  Rose caressed the doll’s head and arms as her Mamm set out mugs, added tea bags, and poured in hot water. Ears to hear and hands to work—that’s all a girl needed in this house.

  Mamm set a cup in front of Elise first and then Rose. “Your Daed and brothers are out preparing their stands for deer season. It opens in three days, you know. But they’ll be home in time for dinner and milking. Will you stay that long?”

  Was that a bit of hope in her Mamm’s voice?

  “Sure, Mamm.”

  “Gut. Daed and the boys will be pleased.”

  “All of them? None of my brothers is married yet?” One brother was a year older than she was, and the rest were younger, but three of them were of marrying age now. Mamm’s few letters each year had consisted of the weather, the production of the milk cows, and whose health was improving or waning in the family and church.

  Mamm gave a look that almost resembled rolling her eyes. “Not yet. Not even a steady girl for any of them.”

  That was interesting, and Rose wondered if her difficult Mamm had deterred all prospects.

  “What can Elise and I do to help get dinner on the table?”

  “Oh.” Mamm’s brows went up, and she seemed excited. “You know, I have a side of smoked ham, and the boys would love to have your ham surprise special.”

  Rose had never thought to write down the few recipes she’d devised that her brothers loved. So she wasn’t surprised that the dishes hadn’t made the supper rotation.

  “She’s made that for my family a few times too. We love it,” Elise said.

  Mamm’s excitement dimmed. “On second thought, aside from the ham, I doubt I have all you’d need for that recipe.”

  “Pffft.” Elise made a shooing motion with one hand. “I have a car. I can get to the store and back with the right stuff before Rose has the ham chopped for sautéing.”

  While Rose’s Mamm and Elise chatted, Rose began making homemade pasta to go in her concoction. Grace climbed up and down on the barstool at will, sipping her tea and then returning to the box to play with the toys. None of it seemed to grate on Mamm’s nerves. Actually, she seemed to enjoy watching Grace, which was not how Rose remembered her childhood. Elise ran to the store and back.

  Three hours flew by swiftly, and with a loud thud her oldest brother walked into the house. “Rose?” He blinked. “Well, you do still exist. I’d heard rumors about it.” He grinned before awkwardly hugging her. Soon there was a stampede of men and half-grown men greeting her. Most just smiled and spoke, but a few hugged her, as did her Daed. Before long they were seated at the table.

  Her chair, the one she’d sat in most of her life, seemed to whisper memories to her, and she was surprised to recall many enjoyable ones. It was in this chair she’d received one birthday present each year. This chair is where she sat to play board games with her brothers during the long winters. This chair had been her friend when she was hungry and tired, but there were plenty of mealtimes when she hardly sat for helping to serve her brothers and Daed. Her Mamm used to fuss over every little thing—like the way the chair scraped against the floor when Rose got up or how slowly she moved to get another container of butter, even though in Rose’s opinion she’d been sprinting.

  “How long are you staying, Rose?” Daed asked. Her feelings about her Daed were mixed. He wasn’t as hard on her as her Mamm was, but she n
ever remembered a time when he came to her defense.

  She didn’t have a good answer for him. “At least until the supper dishes are done.”

  “That long.” He chuckled. “What’s Forest Hill like?”

  She started describing her life now, and the conversation was comfortable and easy as her brothers asked questions and shared what they knew about lakes and canoes and tourist seasons. Her seventeen-year-old brother, Matt, showed real interest in Joel’s business, digging into the details Rose provided.

  Elise talked as much as anyone else, and Grace ate well while entertaining her uncles with her lengthy explanations about anything they dared to ask. The visit felt like a victory, even if she and her Mamm never showed any warm affection toward each other.

  “That was a great meal, Rose.” Her eldest brother stood. “But the cows won’t milk themselves. Games after?”

  Her brothers had never been particularly kind. Most often they ignored her or treated her like a servant, but they had also enjoyed some good times. “I’d like that.”

  Chairs squawked against the cheap vinyl flooring as all the men left the house. Elise took Grace to see how a large herd of cows was milked compared to the way they milked Clarabelle by hand.

  Rose stood and began helping her Mamm clean up, unsure what else they could make small talk about.

  Mamm shoved scraps off one plate and onto another. “I have a girl coming to help most days but not this week since it’s so close to Christmas and all.”

  “That’s great…about the help. I know it had to be hard—me leaving the way I did.”

  Mamm nodded. “Ya. It was.” She took a stack of dishes to the sink and filled the basin with water, adding a good squirt of dish detergent.

  Rose brought another stack. “So how many horses do the boys have now?”

  Her Mamm started to take the plates from her, but when their eyes met, she held Rose’s gaze without moving. “I can’t do this. I can’t chitchat about unimportant things while we ignore the elephant in the room.” She took the dishes and put them on the counter, grabbed Rose by the wrist, and walked to the living room. “Sit.” She motioned across the room with its many chairs. “Somewhere.”

  Rose moved to her old spot on the end of the couch that was closest to the fireplace.

  Mamm sat in her rocker. “I need to say some things. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. Can you deal with that?”

  “I…think so.”

  “Gut. When you left, it was hard. Really hard, and I was furious with you. I hired one girl after another, but none of them, not even three at a time, were enough help. They were untrained and lazy, every one of them. So I went to the bishop to tell him how wrong he’d been to agree to your marriage, leaving us here without anyone.”

  “Mamm.” Rose gasped. “You didn’t.”

  “I did. I was too angry not to. I told him he’d given you an easy way out of staying where God put you, and you took it. He looked me square in the eyes and asked, ‘Do you blame her?’ ” Mamm slapped her palms against the wooden armrests. “Then he said all sorts of other things I didn’t know he knew. Some I hadn’t remembered—like saying that from the time you were little, people could hear me yelling at you, calling you names, from far and wide. And he said I was the problem.” She pointed at herself. “Of course, I didn’t believe him. I had no recollection of calling you names, not for a while anyway. But life piled on the pressure back then when I had all these little boys, and, yes, I was angry. Still, I wasn’t the woman he described, was I? Cruel? After fuming for weeks, I got what I thought was a second letter from you, and I was sure you’d written to tell me how sorry you were—you know, ’cause I pointed out all you’d done wrong over the years in my previous letter. Telling how you let me down. But the letter wasn’t from you. It was from Joel. We both know what that letter said.” Mamm took a breath. “He was respectful, even kind, but he didn’t let anything I’d written slide by without addressing it, and I had to look at the truth. It took me a little while to see it. In my exhaustion and irritability, I’d been a mean Mamm to you, and I had to live with it.” Mamm shook a finger at her. “You’re a good girl with a lot of wonderful qualities. You know that, right?”

  Rose could hardly speak. “Denki, Mamm.”

  Mamm rocked back and forth while Rose gained her composure. “But, Mamm, you never wrote me about any of this. The letters…You never shared your heart before.”

  “I tried to write the words or say them on the phone. I couldn’t. Now, looking you in the eyes tonight, seeing the sweet bond between you and Grace, and knowing I wrecked what we should have, I couldn’t hold back what needed to be said. Your Daed is real sorry too. It keeps him up at night, but he won’t share his regrets with anyone except me.” She clutched the wooden armrests, looking rather stern. “Is Joel good to you? His letter seemed as if he would be, but please tell me I didn’t run you off and into the arms of a bad husband.”

  “No, Mamm. He’s a really good husband. Maybe the best ever, but things have changed recently, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “You want to tell me?” Mamm’s eyes looked wet. “I want to do better by you, Rose.”

  Her words melted Rose’s heart, and she opened up about her marriage, probably telling way too much.

  “That explains why you haven’t conceived yet.” Mamm smiled. “Do you love him?”

  In her former days Mamm would’ve scolded Rose for not consummating the vows and would’ve told her she was an embarrassment to the family. Her Mamm had changed.

  “Ya, Mamm, I do love him. I never imagined love like this existed.”

  “You go home to him, Rose. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and you should be with your husband and children. It doesn’t matter if everything feels shattered. If you’re broken but together, you can mend together. That’s how it works.” Mamm got up and went into her bedroom. When she returned, she walked over to Rose and pressed a small stack of folded money into her hand. “That’s so you can hire a driver and come for a longer visit when it’s convenient. Bring all my grandbabies, okay?”

  “Ya.” She took the money, knowing her Mamm needed her to accept the gift. She stood and hugged her. “Denki, Mamm.”

  Mamm hugged her for a few long seconds before backing away. “Goodness. All this tenderness. Why, my Mamm would roll over in her grave, and if our men saw it, they would laugh us right out of this house.” She straightened her apron. “Dishes.” She pointed at the sink. “Now.”

  Rose smiled and went to the sink. The evening floated by, and talking with her brothers came easily. Rose excused herself long enough to tuck Grace into bed, and Elise went to bed too. Rose went downstairs again and won several rounds of Dutch Blitz against her brothers before they turned in, content to get only a few hours of sleep before the early-morning milking. When Rose crawled into bed next to Grace, she snuggled with her girl. She was ready to go back home, even if she didn’t know how Joel really felt toward her. After all, he was a kind, good man who’d been trapped into marrying her. His kindness alone could be the cause of his being less than honest with her.

  But what if he did mean what he’d said?

  Hope stirred within her. She wouldn’t really know how he felt until she could accept herself and believe she was worthy of his love. It seemed impossible for her to get to that place, but her Mamm’s attitude had changed considerably when she was confronted by the truth. Rose needed to see the truth too.

  But how?

  Rose stood between the barn and the house, holding Grace’s hand and waving as Elise pulled out of the driveway. The midmorning light was gray as snow flurries swirled. They had left Rose’s parents’ house a little after four in the morning, about the same time the menfolk started the milking.

  It had been a better visit with her family than she could’ve ever hoped for, and yet she still was nervous about going inside and facing Joel.

  With her overnight bag on her shoulder and Grace by the hand, she mea
ndered into the barn. The aroma of hay, livestock, and fresh snow filled her senses. Grace filled a scoop with oats, went to the gate of the closest stall, and held it out to the horse.

  Clarabelle didn’t look as if she’d been milked yet, so Rose grabbed a milking stool and pail. Her insides were tied in knots, and her eyes burned from a heavy crying bout before their drive this morning. She wasn’t one to cry, hadn’t cried since she was a teen, but her emotions seemed short-circuited.

  With her hands clasped around the cow’s teats, she milked Clarabelle. Rose watched streams of warm milk hit inside the pail of white liquid, causing the surface of the liquid to shudder.

  Some of the tears were because of her Mamm’s unexpected kindness, but the rest were because she had been so close to having a real marriage—and then was unsure of Joel’s true feelings. He’d married her because he needed a mother for his children, and now he had hidden the annulment conversation. Why?

  Melancholy had taken up residence inside her and had evicted contentment. Even a trip home and a sincere apology from her Mamm couldn’t make the sadness go away. It was nice that her Mamm understood now, but what Rose longed for was Joel’s love—or, if it existed, to be able to believe in it.

  She stopped milking and leaned her forehead against the side of the cow. “What happened, Clarabelle?” She patted her flank. “We loved this life, all of it.”

  Clarabelle turned, craning her neck to see Rose.

  “Ya, I know,” she told Clarabelle. “I’m the problem child here. Why can’t life and love be simple?” She set the full pail to the side and put the stool back in its place before stepping in front of Clarabelle and rubbing her head. “When I started caring for Joel differently but he didn’t seem to feel the same way, I consoled myself that no matter what we’d be together—with a bonded, lasting friendship-type marriage—even if we were in separate bedrooms for another decade.”

  A door slammed, and she knew someone had come out of the house. She gave Clarabelle a final nuzzle, grabbed the pail, and left the stall. “Grace, it’s time to go in.”