Roses for Mama

by Janette Oke

  “I must offer my apology,” she said shyly. “I did not realize that Mr. Stratton’s son would be so young; therefore I did not realize who you were when you opened the door.”

  He answered with a playful smile, as proper and controlled as his laugh had been.

  “I do hope you have not been disappointed,” he said.

  Angela was quite shocked when she realized she had fluttered her eyelashes in response.

  “Now—you must tell me about yourself,” he invited engagingly. “You are Angela. Do you have a last name, Angela?”

  She laughed a light, silvery laugh and looked fully at the young man before her. “My, I did appear like a simpleton, didn’t I?” she admitted, and then hurried on. “My name is Angela Peterson.”

  “And you live—?”

  Angela was beginning to relax and decided to allow herself to enjoy the afternoon tea.

  “I could say, just over the stubble field,” she replied, “but I guess it would be more proper to say, on the farm adjoining your land to the left. Well, one of the farms on the left. I realize that your land stretches far enough to border several farms on each side.”

  He accepted the acknowledgment of the Stratton wealth with a slight smile and a nod of his head.

  “And you are the Angel of Mercy who has been bearing sustenance to Charlie and Gus since the illness of my father.”

  It was his compliment to her, but for just a moment her breath caught in her throat. A distant memory had been awakened of a little girl with silvery pigtails flying in the wind, running toward the outstretched arms of a man with hair of the same color. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders and strong arms, and as he swept up the girl and enfolded her against his chest, she heard her father’s words, “And how is my Angel?”

  Yes, she thought, Father used to call me that. I had forgotten. Angela fought to return to the present so she might give the proper response to the young man before her.

  ———

  The Petersons played the memory game again. Angela could hardly wait for her turn so she could tell them her memory of her father’s pet name for her.

  As usual Sara was given the first turn. “I ’member—remember—I remember,” she said, her brow puckered in deep concentration; then her eyes brightened. “I remember when Papa took me to the circus and bought me lots of treats and showed me big elephants and walking bears and—”

  “Sara,” cut in Louise. “You never went to the circus.”

  “I did, too,” argued Sara, her lower lip beginning to protrude.

  “You did not,” insisted Louise before anyone else could comment. “There was never a circus here to go to.”

  “Louise is right,” said Angela slowly. “You must have had a dream.”

  Louise wasn’t as gracious to her young sister as Angela had been. “That’s a lie,” she condemned Sara. “We aren’t ever to tell lies.”

  Sara’s pouting lip began to tremble; then a flood of tears followed. “Well, I can’t ’member anymore,” she sobbed. “Everyone has more to talk about than me.”

  Angela took the small girl into her arms and soothed her. “Sh-h-h,” she whispered. “It’s okay. That’s why we are playing the game, remember? So those of us who have more memories can share them with you. Sh-h-h.”

  At last Sara was quieted and Angela knew that it was her turn to make a statement.

  “But Louise is right. You must never tell stories as—as truths if they are not. Papa and Mama would never tolerate tales of any kind. You must remember that in the future.”

  With that understanding, the game went on.

  “I remember,” said Louise, “when Papa brought a whole big box of apples home from town and he let me have one to eat—even before Mama made pie or sauce or anything. It was—yummy.”

  Even Sara laughed as Louise rolled her eyes and rubbed her tummy.

  It was Derek’s turn. His contributions had been a bit more open recently, his comments a bit lengthier. But both Thomas and Angela knew he was still a troubled boy.

  “I remember—” began Derek, and then a frown creased his brow. He swallowed hard, seeming determined to go on. “I remember—the—the day Mama died.”

  Angela caught her breath. Thomas moved as though to reach out a hand to his young brother, then quickly withdrew it. “Yes?” he prompted.

  “I remember—I brought her a bird shell—just a little blue one—it was in two pieces—the baby had already hatched—but I knew she would like to see it.”

  He stopped and swallowed again. His eyes did not lift from his empty dinner plate.

  “I—I tiptoed into her bedroom—I thought she might be asleep—then I—I touched her hand.”

  There was a pause again and Angela feared that Derek might not be able to go on.

  “It was cold,” he managed after some time. “I—I whispered to her—but she didn’t open her eyes. Then I—I shook her—just a little bit.”

  The room was chilled and quiet. Not a person moved. Not an eye lifted from their brother’s pale face.

  “Then I—I shook her harder—and she still didn’t wake up. I started to get scared. I shook her again. Then I started to cry, and then—then Mrs. Barrows opened the door and looked at me, and she frowned at me and said, ‘Your Mama is gone, boy. Mustn’t cry, now. You’re a big boy,’ and I ran past her and I ran and ran until I was out of breath and—”

  Tears were now falling freely down Derek’s cheeks. Thomas reached for him, pulled him close, and held him. Angela, through tears of her own, quietly led the two young girls, also weeping, out of the kitchen. As she left she could hear Thomas’s gentle voice. “That’s right. Go ahead and cry. Just cry it all out. I never heard Papa say that a man couldn’t cry when he had good reason.”

  From the tremor in Thomas’s voice, Angela knew he was shedding tears of his own.

  “Oh, God,” she prayed, “help poor little Derek. Wash his memory of this—this terrible hurt—and touch his soul with your healing. Might he be—be freed from the past now—and be able to go on.”

  Chapter Ten

  A Birthday

  “Why don’t you go? I really don’t have much time for a party,” Angela said to Thomas.

  It’s you who Trudie wants anyway, she was thinking, but she didn’t voice it.

  Thomas was shaking his head. “Nope. You don’t go, I don’t go.”

  Angela was a bit annoyed and a little surprised at his response. He usually was not so stubborn.

  “Truth is, I didn’t really have much fun at the last one. And I hate to leave the—”

  “They were fine last time—remember?”

  Angela had to admit that the children had gotten along perfectly well without them for a few hours.

  “I really don’t see why—”

  Thomas cut her short. “You need to get out. You didn’t have fun last time because you had forgotten how. You are not a little old lady, Angela. You are seventeen.”

  “Eighteen,” corrected Angela with a deep sigh.

  “All right, eighteen,” Thomas agreed. “Tomorrow you’ll be eighteen. But that’s still a long way from eighty, and that’s how you’re acting. Now get yourself all prettied up and let’s get over there—before the party is over and the food is all gone,” teased Thomas.

  Reluctantly Angela pulled herself from her chair and put aside the sock she had been darning. She didn’t feel one bit like partying. Especially not at Trudie’s house.

  It did not take her long to change her dress and pin her hair firmly into place. She dusted a bit of fine flour across her nose and tucked a clean hankie into her pocket. She knew she wouldn’t enjoy this evening, but Thomas seemed to have his heart set on going, and Angela did not want to spoil it for him. After all, Thomas was not old either, and he had certainly missed out on his share of fun.

  It could get cool later in the evening, so Angela grabbed a shawl and went to meet Thomas at the kitchen door. She was expecting a bit of a fuss from Louise, who felt she
was old enough to be in on the entertainment of the young folks of the community. And Louise didn’t care much for her appointed task of the evening.

  Angela had posted all three youngsters at the kitchen table to do review lessons. She believed it was important over the summer months to have them study what they had learned the year before. They often argued vociferously, saying that none of the other mothers demanded so much from their offspring, but Angela held firm, and one evening a week was deemed “study night.”

  Angela was about to release them from tonight’s assignment and tell them they could read a book of their choice instead. It didn’t seem fair that they had to study while she partied. But when she entered the kitchen all three were working diligently. Louise hardly lifted her head.

  “We won’t be long,” Angela promised, and Derek raised his eyes for a moment and nodded. Louise and Sara kept their eyes on the opened books before them. Angela shrugged. It seemed that Thomas was the only one with any enthusiasm for the party.

  Thomas helped her climb into the wagon, and then they were off.

  It was a clear evening and the moon was just coming up. Angela decided to forget her ill humor and enjoy the ride. The fields of ripening grain stretched along beside the roadway, promising another good harvest.

  Dear God, don’t let anything happen to it, Angela prayed silently. We need it so. The children need new things for school. They grow so fast, I can hardly keep up with them. And Thomas—it’s been years since he’s had a new suit, and I have let down every hem and let out every seam and he still looks like a little boy on a growing spurt instead of like a man. And I know it must embarrass him some, Lord, even if he doesn’t say.

  Angela stole a look at Thomas. He had filled out to be almost the size her father had been. In fact, he reminded her more of their papa every day in appearance and carriage.

  Thomas must have felt her eyes on him, for he turned and gave her a grin. “Still mad?” he teased.

  Angela dipped her head. How could she be angry with Thomas? He deserved to have a good time. If he wished to party—then she would party. Though she still couldn’t understand why he had insisted that she go along.

  She gave Thomas a reluctant smile. “No. I’m not mad,” she responded, and the smile came in its fullness.

  “Good!” was all he answered, and he turned his attention back to the horses.

  They rode in silence for several moments, then Angela turned to her brother and asked a blunt question. “Thomas, if you could be anything you wanted—do anything you wanted—would you be a farmer?”

  Thomas looked directly at her and his eyes seemed to darken slightly. He appeared reluctant to answer, but he finally began to shake his head slowly.

  “Don’t you like to farm?”

  “Well—it’s not—not that I don’t like it—really. It’s just that I think there is something I would like better.”

  “I never knew that,” Angela replied softly. “But then, I never even thought about it before.”

  There was silence again. Finally Angela took up the conversation again.

  “What is it that you think you’d like better?” she asked.

  “Research,” he said without hesitation. “With grains and fruits and things.”

  Angela nodded. She should have known. Thomas was always working with his seeds and hybrids.

  “But you do that now,” she reminded him.

  “Not the way I’d like to. I have no space—no training—no proper equipment. And very little time,” he finished with a sigh.

  Angela nodded her head. He was right. He did have very little time and he did not have the proper tools or the room to work. More than once his precious plants had frozen and he had been set back in his experimentation. Angela hadn’t realized until now what a great disappointment that must have been for him.

  They rode in silence again while Angela mulled over the dream Thomas had just shared. If it wasn’t for the children, she was thinking, Thomas might have a chance to work with his seeds. I could find a job or—But there was no use dreaming. The children needed his care.

  “And you?” asked Thomas.

  Angela came back from her reverie with a start and looked at her older brother. She shrugged and shifted her shawl in her lap.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Nothing I guess. At least nothing like that. There was a time when I thought I would like to be a teacher, but not anymore. I would have liked to go to school more, though. Just to learn. I had to quit so early. But then, I guess one never needs to stop learning—from books and—and everything in life. I can read the lesson books the children bring home.”

  “Is that why you are so—so—”

  Angela knew Thomas thought she was too hard on the kids about their studies. He had never fully agreed with her regarding the summer review sessions, but he had always backed her.

  “Is that why you are so determined that the three of them make the most of their studies?” he finished at last.

  Angela nodded. “It seems such a shame not to get all they can out of their years in school. They are over all too soon anyway—and then adult responsibilities crowd in and take over and there is no more time to learn from books,” Angela said soberly.

  Thomas nodded.

  “Yet,” said Angela hesitantly, “I almost let them off tonight. It just didn’t seem fair that we were off to a party and they had to sit there at the kitchen table with their lesson books. But they were so intent when we left that I decided not to disturb them.” Then Angela changed the subject. “Who’s going to be at the party?” she asked.

  “The usual, I guess,” answered Thomas. Angela wondered why his casual answer didn’t match his rather knowing expression.

  “Who’s going to be there?” she repeated.

  “I guess we’ll see when we get there” was all Thomas would say as he clucked to the horse.

  When they entered the Sommerses’ yard and Angela saw the number of teams tied to the fence posts, she thought the whole community must be there.

  “Looks like Trudie is throwing quite a party,” she murmured.

  Thomas tied the team and extended his arm to Angela. She took it and let him escort her around to the back of the house. There didn’t seem to be anyone around and Angela was about to suggest that they try the front door instead.

  As they rounded the corner an explosion of sound greeted them. “Surprise.” “Surprise.” “Happy birthday.” “Happy Birthday.” The shouts were coming at Angela from all sides as heads began to pop out from behind every tree and shrub.

  Angela drew a quick breath, and Thomas had to hold fast to the hand tucked in his arm.

  It was then that Angela noticed the streamers strung in the tree branches. And then an even more amazing sight caught her attention. There were Derek, Louise, and Sara, dressed in their Sunday finery and yelling right along with the rest of the crowd, “Surprise! Surprise!”

  “How did you get here?” Angela stammered.

  “We cut across the field,” Louise called cheerily, and Angela knew she had the answer to their diligent studying. Louise was getting in on the party after all.

  The evening was a blur to Angela. She had never been the guest of honor at a party before—and she wasn’t sure how much she enjoyed being the center of attention now. Still, she did appreciate all the effort Trudie had put into the event. She determined to be kinder, a little more tolerant of her friend—until she spotted Trudie hovering around Thomas again. My—what a good deal of time and expense just to get Thomas over here, Angela mused. Thomas had turned down each invitation to the other parties Trudie proposed, up till now. Angela shook her head. Some girls were so foolish.

  Angela noticed that Thomas did not devote his total evening to Trudie. He mixed easily through the crowd, chatting and laughing and teasing. He truly seemed to be enjoying himself.

  Derek hung back some, but gradually joined the younger boys. They mostly sat and watched the older ones. Angela decided that perhaps they wer
e studying the older youths so they would know how to behave when it was their turn.

  Louise was more socially inclined and made repeated attempts to join in. Angela knew how much her sister longed to be a part of everything that was going on while still feeling unsure of herself. Angela ached for the young girl. “It just takes time,” she whispered under her breath. “Don’t try to rush it, Louise. You’ll be an adult soon enough.”

  Sara, still a little girl in the eyes of most of the partygoers, was pampered and fussed over. Sara enjoyed the spotlight and seemed to feel that she deserved every nod and smile. She bounced about, chattering and giggling and accepting every goodie offered to her.

  They played party games and a few jokes on one another. Then Angela had to cut the enormous birthday cake and serve the pieces to each one present. By the time she had finished giving out the cake, the others had finished eating and were busy chatting and teasing again. Trudie suggested a sing-song, looking at Thomas for his answer.

  “Not tonight,” he answered. “When I get singing I hate to stop and I have to get the younger ones home.”

  Louise gave Thomas an impatient scowl.

  “Angela can stay,” Thomas was quick to say. “I’ll leave the team for her and we’ll walk across the field.”

  “I’ll drive her home,” offered Thane.

  “But I—I should—” began Angela.

  “Nonsense,” Thomas replied. “It’s your birthday party. You stay and sing. I’ll tuck them in.”

  Louise pushed out her lip, but a word from her older brother quickly erased the pout. Angela wondered what Thomas had whispered to her.

  Trudie looked about as upset as Louise. For a moment she stood silently, her face clouded with disappointment. Then she flipped her reddish hair and crossed to Thomas. She laid a hand on his sleeve and looked up at him with her long eyelashes fluttering slightly. “You can come back after you’ve tucked them in,” Angela heard her say.