Finally a Mother

by Dana Corbit

  “You know, you can call him Mark when he’s not at work,” Shannon told them.

  “How about Mr. Mark?” Kelly asked.

  “I’m sure he would like that.”

  The girls led the way down the stairs, where they joined the other bridesmaids, all looking lovely and grown-up in their gowns. Beyond them, her father stood with Blake, both appearing equally uncomfortable in their simple black suits. As Shannon slipped in next to them, Blake drew her aside.

  “You make an amazing bride, Miss Shannon. I’m happy for you. For us.” He leaned in and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

  Her eyes immediately flooded. “I love you, too.”

  Her father came to the rescue with a handkerchief, which Shannon used to dab her eyes. Blake tried to be discreet, brushing at the corners of his eyes.

  A recording of a wedding processional started to play, so they all took their places. It only seemed right that both Blake and her father would escort her down the aisle—two of the three guys she loved the most, leading her to the third. The girls made their way up the makeshift aisle first. By the time Shannon, her father and Blake reached the entry, the area near the lectern was so full that the line of girls curled along the opposite wall.

  Besides those colorful dresses and the red bows, garland and the twinkling lights of the Christmas decorations, the color that dominated the room was state police navy blue.

  Shannon took note of the other guests, her mother in a light gray suit and Brooke, who attended with her mother and father. Her baby would be released from the hospital in the next few days.

  Finally, she caught sight of Mark on the right side of the lectern, looking so handsome and strong in his dress uniform. His two brothers stood behind him in their dark suits, supporting him just like she’d assured him they would.

  Her gaze connected with Mark’s, and it felt as if there was no one else in the room but them. Before she’d met him she’d thought she knew what love was, but it had only been a pale imitation to this emotion that joined their hearts and would soon join the two of them for life. She didn’t even realize that her father and Blake had started walking, leading her forward, until she drew near Mark and her father placed her hand in his.

  Reverend Hicks stepped to the lectern and opened his Bible. “Friends, we are gathered here in the sight of God and these witnesses to unite Mark and Shannon in holy matrimony....”

  She tried, really tried, to listen to the rest of the words he said, but only fragments—“God instituted marriage,” “faith, hope and love,”—filtered through her thoughts. All she could see was the man standing before her, offering her his heart and his life.

  “Now, Shannon, repeat after me. ‘I, Shannon, take you, Mark, to be my lawfully wedded husband,’” the minister said.

  She repeated the words, feeling confident and strong, and then listened in awe as Mark repeated his vows. Soon Mark was slipping that gold band on her finger, and she was doing the same for him.

  “And now I pronounce you husband and wife,” Reverend Hicks said. “You may kiss the bride.”

  “I would be happy to,” Mark announced as he leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers.

  As soon as he pulled back, Mark glanced to the line of folding chairs. “Yo, Blake, get over here.”

  The boy rolled his eyes, but he stepped over to join them. Together the three of them, holding hands, led the guests from the parlor into the cafeteria for the reception. Shannon leaned over and pressed a kiss to Blake’s cheek and then turned her head the other way, sharing a kiss with the most amazing man she’d ever known. Her husband.

  What had begun as an alliance for the sake of one troubled boy had become so much more. Only in accepting the roles they’d played in their own pain had she and Mark finally found the healing they’d craved. They still had a long road ahead of them as the courts determined Blake’s permanent custody, but Shannon had no fear of the journey ahead. Her new life had come in the form of two surprise visitors on her doorstep. Now that life would be the most wonderful gift she’d never known she wanted: the three of them...together.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE SHEPHERD’S BRIDE by Patricia Davids.

  Dear Reader,

  Forgiveness tends to be a recurring theme in my books. Of course, forgiveness is central to the Christian life as well, for without it we would have no hope. But I believe I regularly force my characters to take on this tough subject for another reason. Because I’m so bad at it in my own life. When someone hurts one of my girls, my talons come out, and I can hold a grudge with the best of them. Anyone who dares to injure one of them doesn’t deserve forgiveness anyway, right?

  But that’s the whole point with God’s forgiveness. Neither earned nor deserved, it is a gift. Challenging or not, He expects us to forgive each other, too. “And be kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ has forgiven you.” Ephesians 4:32.

  It is always a treat to hear from readers, so I encourage you to contact me through email at danacorbit@earthlink.net, snail mail at P.O. Box 5, Novi, MI 48376, find me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter @DanaCorbit1.

  Questions for Discussion

  From whom did Shannon say her parents wanted to keep her pregnancy a secret? Why do we often fear judgment from the very people we should trust most to support us?

  What did Blake offer as proof that Shannon was his mother?

  What was the one event in Mark’s youth over which he believed his parents always judged him? How do the mistakes of our youth affect the adults we become?

  What did most of the teens at Hope Haven have in common besides their pregnancies?

  Shannon had always planned to find Blake when he turned eighteen. Should birth parents reach out to the children they placed for adoption?

  Why was Mark so desperate to build a decorated career with the Michigan State Police?

  Why did Brooke attempt to hide the symptoms that sent her to the hospital on Thanksgiving Day?

  What issue did Shannon recognize in Blake that made it more difficult for him to be placed in a foster home?

  What did Mark and Shannon share in common that stood as a stumbling block for them to build a future together?

  After Shannon spent much of the story trying to earn Blake’s forgiveness, what did she realize about God’s forgiveness?

  Who was the only person who refused to forgive Mark for the mistakes of his past?

  How did Shannon betray both the man she loved and her own son in her attempt to punish her parents for pressuring her into choosing adoption?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

  You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.

  Enjoy six new stories from Love Inspired every month!

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  Chapter One

  “You can’t be serious.” Lizzie Barkman gaped at her older sister, Clara, in shock.

  Seated on the edge of the bed in the room the four Barkman sisters shared, Clara kept her eyes downcast. “It’s not such a bad thing.”

  Lizzie fell to her knees beside Clara and took hold of her icy hands. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s a horrible thing. You can’t marry Rufus Kuhns. He’s put two wives in the ground already. Besides, he’s thirty years older than you are.”

  “Onkel wishes this.”
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  “Then our uncle is crazy!”

  Clara glanced fearfully at the door. “Hush. Do not earn a beating for my sake, sister.”

  Lizzie wasn’t eager to feel the sting of their uncle’s wooden rod across her back, but it was outrageous to imagine lovely, meek Clara paired with such an odious man. “Tell Onkel Morris you won’t do it.”

  “He won’t go against Rufus’s wishes. He’s too scared of losing our jobs and this house.”

  It was true. Their uncle wouldn’t oppose Rufus. He didn’t have the courage. Rufus Kuhns was a wealthy member of their small Plain community in northern Indiana. He owned the dairy farm where they all worked for the paltry wages he paid. He claimed that letting them live in the run-down house on his property more than made up for their low salaries. The house was little more than a hovel, although the girls tried their best to make it a home.

  “Onkel says it is his duty to see us all wed. I’m twenty-five with no prospects. I’m afraid he is right about that.”

  The single women in their isolated Amish community outnumbered the single men three to one. Lizzie was twenty-three with no prospects in sight, either. Who would her uncle decide she should marry?

  “Being single isn’t such a bad thing, Clara. Look at my friend Mary Miller, the schoolteacher. She is happy enough.”

  Clara managed a smile. “It’s all right, Lizzie. At least this way I have the hope of children of my own. If God wills it.”

  It hurt to see Clara so ready to accept her fate. Lizzie wouldn’t give up so easily. “Rufus had no children with his previous wives. You don’t have to do this. We can move away and support ourselves by making cheese to sell to the tourists. We’ll grow old together and take care of each other.”

  Clara cupped Lizzie’s cheek. “You are such a dreamer. What will happen to our little sisters if we do that?”

  Greta and Betsy were outside finishing the evening milking. At seventeen, Betsy was the youngest. Greta was nearly twenty. They all worked hard on the dairy farm. With twenty-five cows to be milked by hand twice a day, there was more than enough work to go around. Without Clara and Lizzie to carry their share of the load, the burden on their sisters would double, for their uncle wouldn’t pick up the slack.

  Morris Barkman hadn’t been blessed with children. He and his ailing wife took in his four nieces when their parents died in a buggy accident ten years before. He made no secret of the fact that his nieces were his burden to bear. He made sure everyone knew how generous he was and how difficult his life had been since his wife’s passing.

  Lizzie couldn’t count the number of times she had been forced to hold her tongue when he shamed her in front of others for her laziness and ingratitude. Her uncle claimed to be a devout member of the Amish faith, but in her eyes, he was no better than the Pharisees in the Bible stories the bishop preached about during the church services.

  She rose and paced the small room in frustration. There had to be a way out of this. “We can all move away and get a house together. Greta and Betsy, too.”

  “If we left without our uncle’s permission, we would be shunned by everyone in our church. I could not bear that.” Clara’s voice fell to a whisper. “Besides, if I won’t wed Rufus...Betsy is his second choice.”

  Lizzie gasped. “She’s barely seventeen.”

  “You see now why I have to go through with it. Promise me you won’t tell her she’s the reason I’m doing this.”

  “I promise.”

  “I know you’ve been thinking about leaving us, Lizzie. I’m not as strong as you are. I can’t do it, but you should go. Go now while you have the chance. I can bear anything if I know you are safe.”

  Lizzie didn’t deny it. She had been thinking about leaving for years. She had even squirreled away a small amount of money for the day. Only the thought of never seeing her sisters again kept her from taking such a drastic step. She loved them dearly.

  The bedroom door opened and the two younger Barkman girls came in. Greta was limping. Clara immediately went to her. “What happened?”

  “She got kicked by that bad-tempered cow we all hate,” Betsy said.

  “She’s not bad-tempered. She doesn’t hear well. I startled her. It was my own fault. It’s going to leave a bruise, but nothing is broken.” Greta sat on the edge of the bed she shared with Betsy.

  Clara insisted on inspecting her leg. It was already swollen and purple just above the knee. “Oh, that must hurt. I’ll get some witch hazel for it.”

  As Clara left, Lizzie turned to her sisters. “Onkel is making Clara marry Rufus Kuhns.”

  “Are you joking? He’s ancient.” Greta looked as shocked as Lizzie was.

  “It’s better than being an old maedel,” Betsy said. “We’re never going to find husbands if we aren’t allowed to attend singings and barn parties in other Amish communities.”

  Would she feel the same if she knew how easily she could trade places with Clara? Lizzie kept silent. She had given Clara her word. Betsy began to get ready for the night.

  Greta did the same. “Rufus is a mean fellow.”

  Lizzie turned her back to give her sisters some privacy. “He’s cruel to his horses and his cattle. I can’t bear to think of Clara living with him.”

  “His last wife came to church with a bruised face more than once. She claimed she was accident-prone, but it makes a person wonder.” Greta pulled on her nightgown.

  “Shame on you, Greta. It’s a sin to think evil thoughts about the man.” Betsy climbed into bed, took off her black kapp and started to unwind her long brown hair.

  Greta and Lizzie shared a speaking glance but kept silent. Neither of them wanted their oldest sister to find out if their suspicions were true. They remembered only too well the bruises their mother bore in silence when their father’s temper flared.

  Clara returned with a bottle of witch hazel and a cloth. “This will help with the pain.”

  Greta took the bottle from her. They had all used the remedy on bruises inflicted by their uncle over the years. He wouldn’t stand up to Rufus, but he didn’t have any qualms about taking his anger and frustration out on someone weaker. “You can’t do it, Clara. You should go away.”

  “And never see you again? How could I do that? Besides, where would I go? We have no family besides each other.”

  Lizzie met Greta’s eyes. Greta gave a slight nod. After all, they were desperate. Lizzie said, “We have a grandfather.”

  “We do?” It was Betsy’s turn to look shocked as she sat up in bed.

  Clara shook her head. “Nee. He is dead to us.”

  “He is dead to Uncle Morris, not to me.” Lizzie’s mind began to whirl. Would their daadi help? They hadn’t heard from him in years. Not since the death of their parents.

  Greta rubbed the witch hazel on her knee. “We were told never to mention him.”

  “Mention who?” Betsy almost shouted.

  They all hushed her. None of the sisters wished to stir their uncle’s wrath. “Our mother’s father lives in Hope Springs, Ohio.”

  Clara began getting ready for bed, too. “You think he does. He could be dead for all we know.”

  “We really have a grandfather? Why haven’t I met him?” Betsy looked as if she might burst into tears.

  Lizzie removed the straight pins that held her faded green dress closed down the front. “We moved away from Hope Springs when you were just a baby.”

  Clara slipped under the covers. “Papa and Grandfather Shetler had a terrible falling out when I was ten. Mama, Papa, Uncle Morris and his wife all moved away and eventually settled here.”

  “Grandfather raised sheep.” Lizzie smiled at the memory of white lambs leaping for the sheer joy of it in green spring pastures. She hated it when her father made them move to this dreary place. She hung her dress beside her si
sters’ on the pegs that lined the wall and slipped into her nightgown.

  “Do we have a grandmother, too?” Betsy asked.

  Lizzie shook her head. “She died when our mother was a baby. I’m ready to put out the lamp. You know how Onkel hates it when we waste kerosene.

  “Grandfather had a big white dog named Joker,” Greta added wistfully. “I’m sure he’s gone by now. Dogs don’t live that long.”

  “But men do. I will write to him first thing in the morning and beg him to take you in, Clara.” Lizzie sat down on her side of the bed and blew out the kerosene lamp, plunging the small bedroom into darkness.

  Clara sighed. “This is crazy talk. Our uncle will forbid such a letter, Lizzie. You know that. Besides, I’m not going anywhere without my sisters.”

  Lizzie waited until Clara was settled under the covers with her. Quietly, she said, “You will go to Rufus Kuhns’s home without us.”

  “I...know. I miss Mama so much at times like this.”

  Lizzie heard the painful catch in her sister’s voice. She reached across to pull Clara close. “I do, too. I refuse to believe she made your beautiful star quilt for this sham of a marriage. She made your quilt to be her gift to you on a happy wedding day.”

  Their mother had lovingly stitched wedding quilts for each of her daughters. They lay packed away in the cedar chest in the corner. The quilts were different colors and personalized for each one of them. They were cherished by the girls as reminders of their mother’s love.

  Lizzie hardened her resolve. “We’ll think of something. It’s only the middle of March. We have until the wedding time in autumn. You’ll see. We’ll think of something before then.”

  “Nee. My wedding will take place the first week of May so I may help with spring planting.”

  Greta slipped into bed behind Lizzie. “That’s not right. We can’t prepare for a wedding in such a short time.”