Roses for Mama Read online

  She found a delicately patterned calico for Sara. With a bit of lace on the collar, the finished dress surely would please the young girl. It was more difficult to make the decision for Louise. She knew her sister would like something a bit more grown-up, but Angela did not want to rush her into adult garments. Finding the right balance was difficult, but after carefully considering fabric and patterns Angela made a decision and felt pleased with her choice.

  She then gave her attention to the material for her own dress. She fingered the fine silks, let the satins drip from her hand, and eyed the expensive laces with longing.

  “This is foolish,” she finally muttered softly. “Here I am willing to spend the autumn’s harvest on a silly notion that I need to dress to attract attention. Well, I don’t. I need a good sensible dress for church, not a frilly frivolous dress for partying.” Angela deserted the shelves of expensive material and moved to the more durable fabrics.

  In the end she chose a blue voile. It was both sensible and attractive. Then with one eye still on the darkening sky she hurried to choose materials for warm winter garments and wool yarn for mittens. Having completed her purchases, she piled them all on the counter.

  The total cost was staggering, and Angela was glad Thomas had insisted she bring extra money. She paid the bill and the young man in the store helped her load her parcels into the buggy.

  “Got far to go?” he asked, his eye also on the sky. Angela nodded. She had farther to go than she cared to admit.

  “Looks like it could snow,” the boy went on, and Angela climbed quickly into the buggy and clucked to the horse.

  “Thank you for your help,” she called to the boy as she turned the mare around and urged her to a trot.

  The mare did not need to be encouraged. She, too, was anxious to be home again. She lifted her nose into the air and snorted, then jerked her head in impatience and headed out of town at a brisk trot.

  Angela had nothing to do but hold the reins. The wind was blowing now, and she felt the sting of it right through her coat. She tucked herself in a bit more closely and turned her back slightly to the chilling breeze. She would be glad to get home.

  When at last Angela pulled into the farm lane she was met at the gate by Thomas, lantern in hand. It had long since grown dark, and she could tell by his pacing that he had been concerned.

  “It took longer than I thought it would,” she called to him in explanation.

  “I’ll take Star. You get in out of the cold,” he said, relief in his voice.

  Angela did not argue. She climbed stiffly down from the buggy. Derek and Louise emerged from the kitchen.

  “Did you get the things?” Louise asked excitedly.

  “I did,” replied Angela and realized she could not speak without causing her teeth to chatter.

  “You’d better get in by the fire,” advised Derek. “I’ll bring in these parcels.”

  Angela murmured her thanks and hurried into the house. Louise took her coat and hung it on its proper peg, and Angela moved to the warm kitchen stove.

  “Sara, bring a chair,” called Louise. “She’s ’most frozen.” Louise sat Angela down and poked more wood into the stove.

  “Take off your shoes and stockings,” she ordered as she went for the washbasin. “I’ll get some warm water to soak your feet.”

  Louise had never taken over and told Angela what to do before, but Angela obeyed without question. For once, it felt kind of nice to be the one being fussed over.

  Soon Derek came in with the parcels and the girls began to coax to see what she had bought.

  “No. Let’s wait until Thomas comes in,” Angela said, shivering. “We’ll all look at them together.”

  Angela was glad Thomas did not take long, though the wait was difficult for the children.

  “Now you can look—one parcel at a time,” Angela said as she sorted the packages, telling them who should open what.

  They all seemed pleased with her purchases. Louise was especially excited over the new Sunday dress material. Angela knew the girl was envisioning herself in the pretty green print.

  Thomas took the new suit to his bedroom and soon emerged to model it. It fit him even better than Angela had hoped.

  “Derek, you try on yours!” cried Sara, and Derek obliged. He came out grinning. He seemed pleased that his arm no longer showed below the hem of the jacket sleeve. The pants were a bit long. “Growing room,” Angela called it and promised she’d take up the hem in plenty of time for the community wedding.

  They fussed over the shoes, the warm materials, the wool—everything Angela had purchased. Angela sneezed once or twice as she thawed out beside the stove, but in spite of her discomfort she was glad she had made the trip to Carson.

  They played their game again. Thomas started it spontaneously. “I remember,” he began, “one time when Pa and Mama went into Carson. They came back with new clothes for each of us, but they also brought me a new bridle for Midget. Do you remember that, Angela?”

  Angela nodded. It had been a long time since she had even thought of the pony Midget.

  “And at the same time they brought new boots for Sara. They were so tiny. I remember thinking that I had never seen anything as little and cute as those shoes.”

  “Were they?” asked Sara, her eyes glowing.

  “They were. Just little tiny things. Black—with buttons.”

  “Oh, I wish I still had them!” exclaimed Sara.

  “You wore them out, if I recall properly,” put in Thomas.

  “Did they bring me anything?” asked Louise.

  “They brought things for each of us. Let’s see if I can remember some of them. Was that the time—no. It was another time they brought you the white muff. It was from Andrews’ store, I think. Do you remember it, Louise?”

  “The white muff? I do. I do. I remember how I loved to put my hands into it. I would take off my mittens so I could feel it on my hands. It was so soft!”

  Angela sneezed again and then turned to Derek. “I remember what they brought you. That spinning top. The one you keep on your shelf. They got it for you on that trip. Do you remember?”

  Derek nodded.

  “Nobody could ever make it work as good as Papa,” he said, and Angela realized again how much the boy missed his father.

  “We’d better get Angela to bed,” said Louise suddenly. Angela was surprised at the girl’s concern until she added, with laughter, “If she goes and gets sick, we won’t have any new dresses for the wedding.”

  ———

  Angela did not get sick. She worked long hours to get her sewing done. Louise and Sara even volunteered to do some of her usual chores so she could stay at the machine. At last the two suits were altered and three new dresses hung from wooden hangers, just in time for the big day.

  Louise couldn’t wait to appear in her new gown. She tried it on repeatedly and looked at herself in the mirror. Then she began to experiment with her hair, lifting it up this way, then holding it that way.

  Oh, dear, thought Angela, she is going to insist on wearing her hair up and she’s too young for that. Now we’ll have another fuss for sure.

  The weather warmed in time for the wedding. Angela was thankful for that as there really wasn’t much warmth to the blue voile. There was a good deal of hurrying as they all dressed for the occasion. There was a minor fuss over Louise’s hair. She came down with it pinned up in a fashion much too old for her years. Angela caught her breath and was about to comment when the unruly curls came tumbling down around Louise’s ears. Louise looked as if she were about to burst into tears.

  “Would you like me to help you?” offered Angela. “It is hard to get it to stay until one gets used to pinning it up.”

  Louise nodded, and in the re-pinning Angela was able to retain much of Louise’s little girl look. At first Louise began to protest over the adjusted style but Angela cut in simply with, “This suits you better,” and Louise took a second look in the mirror, grinned at her
image, and said no more.

  Thomas hustled them all to the buggy and headed the team for the Conroy farm.

  “How is Hazel going to get everybody into the living room?” asked Sara.

  “I have no idea,” admitted Angela.

  “Well, when I get married I’m going to pick June or July so I can have an outside wedding,” went on Sara. “It’s silly to try to get married in October. It could have been snowing on our heads.”

  “She had to wait until the harvest was over,” Angela informed her sister.

  “Well, there won’t be any harvest to worry about in July,” Sara insisted.

  Thomas laughed and reached out a hand to tousle Sara’s hair.

  “Don’t you dare,” cautioned Angela. “It took me a good part of the morning to get those curls and ribbons just right.”

  Thomas quickly withdrew his hand and laughed again.

  Trudie was the first one out to meet them when they arrived. She bounded toward them, her lavender skirts swishing over the grass. She tossed her mane of red hair and gave Thomas a coy look to see if he had taken notice of her. He was busy tethering the horses.

  “He hasn’t arrived yet,” Trudie whispered to Angela, “but Hazel says he promised to come.”

  Why should Hazel care? wondered Angela. She is about to be married.

  Trudie opened her mouth to speak again when Angela noticed Roberta. She was in her own special chair—one from which she could not fall. Angela moved toward the girl to speak to her. Trudie trailed along behind until she realized Angela’s intentions.

  “What if he comes?” she whispered frantically. “He’ll catch you talking with her.”

  Angela gave Trudie a long look and moved on toward the handicapped girl.

  Angela was never sure whether Roberta recognized her or just responded as she would to anyone who came near.

  “Hello,” Angela said.

  “Hello.” She held out a fragile hand, which Angela took in her own.

  “How are you, Roberta?” asked Angela, giving the girl a smile.

  “Haz—Haz get marry,” managed the girl, pointing to the spot where a small pulpit had been set up under the trees. October or not—it was to be an outdoor wedding.

  “Yes, Hazel is getting married,” agreed Angela, and Roberta laughed gleefully, kicking her legs and clapping her hands.

  Then Roberta turned her attention to the restraints that held her in her chair. She picked at them impatiently. “Out,” she said in agitation.

  “I can’t take them off. You might fall,” Angela tried to explain. “If you fall and get hurt, you won’t see Hazel get married.”

  But the girl still picked at the soft straps that kept her safely in her chair.

  “My, you have a pretty dress,” Angela said in an effort to distract her. The dress was becoming. Angela was sure it had been sewn for this special occasion.

  But Roberta would not be sidetracked. “Out,” she pleaded again, and Angela was relieved when she saw Ingrid coming to bring the girl a drink and a cookie.

  Just before the ceremony was about to start, Angela felt a hand touch her elbow. It was Carter. He had arrived just as he had promised. For a moment Angela wished she were wearing one of the lovely silks or satins she had admired at Carson. But the moment quickly passed. She looked across the yard to where Trudie was standing in her elaborate lavender satin. Angela couldn’t help comparing her simple frock with Trudie’s.

  But my own simple dress suits me, thought Angela. I am simple—not stunning like Trudie.

  Carter tipped his hat and complimented Angela with his eyes as he gazed on her new gown and her newly trimmed bonnet.

  “You look lovely, Miss Peterson,” he said at last, and Angela’s breath caught. She wished to believe him.

  “Why, thank you, sir,” she responded, merriment making her blue eyes shine.

  Then Angela’s eyes met Thane’s. He was standing as usual with Thomas. The two always managed to get together. Angela gave a little wave and smiled his way. Thane nodded in response, then returned her smile. But Angela noticed that he did not brighten as he usually did. Was something wrong? She felt her throat tighten. She wanted to ask him the reason for his serious look, but Carter was steering her to a nearby bench. Even then she might have tried to push her way through the crowd and speak with Thane for just a minute, but the preacher was taking his place at the front of the gathering. The ceremony was about to begin.

  Hazel made her entrance and all eyes turned to the bride.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Changes

  Charlie arrived at the Peterson door one evening. The wind held a chill, and Thomas quickly bid him enter and warm himself while Angela hustled to put on the coffee. One look at the poor man and she sensed something further was wrong.

  “He’s gone,” Charlie said, lowering himself into the chair Thomas offered.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Angela, setting the pot on the stove and crossing to Charlie. “When?”

  “This afternoon—’bout four.”

  “You need some sleep. You look worn out. Why don’t you just stay here for the night and—?”

  “No. Gus will need me.”

  Angela let the matter drop.

  “When will the funeral be?” asked Thomas.

  “We haven’t made those arrangements yet—and there might be some complications.”

  “Complications?”

  Charlie nodded his head. “The boss said, ‘No service.’ He just wanted to be buried on his own land. But the new boss says thet’s heathen. Says there’s no way he’s gonna jest stick his pa in the ground without some ceremony.”

  Angela nodded, new respect for Carter growing in her thinking.

  “Sounds reasonable to me,” expressed Thomas.

  Charlie nodded his head. “Well, I gotta say thet I agree with ’im on thet one. Still, it’s hard not to carry out the boss’s wishes.”

  Angela laid a hand on the bent shoulder. She understood how he must feel.

  “You’ve served him well for many years,” Angela reminded him. “I guess no one could expect more than you have given.”

  Charlie stayed long enough to drink a cup of coffee and eat a slice of lemon loaf. Then he bundled up in his heavy coat and headed back across the empty field.

  “If things had continued on as they have been, I’ve not sure Charlie could have taken it much longer,” observed Thomas.

  Angela nodded in agreement. “The poor man,” she said in a whisper. “He looks like a bearded ghost. He’s lost weight, Thomas, and his eyes look sunken from lack of sleep.”

  “Well, it’s over now, I guess.”

  Angela nodded again and then a new thought struck her. “But not for poor Mr. Stratton,” she said. “For him—there is an eternity ahead—and I fear for what it holds for him.”

  Thomas lifted his head to look at her.

  “Oh, Thomas,” admitted Angela. “I never once tried to share my faith with him.”

  “Pa tried,” responded Thomas.

  “He did?”

  “More than once. I was with him one time. I remember. Pa said that the caring for the state of one’s soul was the most important job a man had to do in life. Then he invited Mr. Stratton to church.”

  Angela waited.

  “The man cursed at Pa. I will never forget it. It shocked me that a man would speak in such a way. Then he clenched his fist and shook it in Pa’s face. Pa never even blinked. I was hoping Pa would punch him.” Thomas stopped to smile momentarily at the memory, then went on.

  “Pa didn’t back down, but he allowed the man some self-respect—even though he knew he was wrong. ‘Mr. Stratton,’ he said. ‘A man’s got a right to make his own decisions in life. I’ll grant you that. But I’ll also continue to pray for you—and if you ever want to discuss the matter—well, you’ve got a neighbor and friend just over the fence.’”

  “He said that?”

  “I was so proud of my pa that day,” declared Thomas
. “I knew right then that it took a bigger man to extend his hand than it did to fight.”

  Angela picked up the empty coffee cups.

  “Thomas,” she said. “We have been so blessed—you and I—to have parents like we had. It just hurts me to think that all the—the memories that we treasure—the—the younger ones can’t share. Our folks—through their teaching, built such a strong, sure base for us.”

  “We share them in our game and in our Memory Book.”

  “But that’s not the same as getting them firsthand,” insisted Angela.

  “But it is still important,” Thomas replied.

  Angela crossed to the kitchen shelf that held their Memory Books. There were three scribblers now—all recording the things family members had recalled about their parents. She let her hand caress them gently. They were important. In sharing memories, they had grown even closer as a family.

  “Yes,” Angela agreed. “It’s the best we can do.” Then she lifted her head and spoke again to her older brother. “Thomas, we must be careful to be kind to Carter. He doesn’t even have any memories of his father. Only rumors. And I don’t think he and his mother are on very good terms at present, either. I could—could hear it in his voice when he spoke of her.”

  “I think she spoiled him—then became angry when he wanted to be his own man instead of her little boy,” observed Thomas.

  “Well, he needs friends. If one doesn’t have family—then one needs friends even more.”

  ———

  The funeral service was held two days later. Reverend Merrifield conducted the brief ceremony, and Mr. Stratton, Sr., the community’s rich man, was laid in the town cemetery with an appropriate stone marking his final resting place.

  Most folks from the area attended the service. Only a few, like Mrs. Blackwell, declined.

  “I had nothing to do with the man while he lived,” she observed sourly, “so I see no reason to have anything to do with him when he’s dead.”

  Mr. Blackwell came into town to get a harness repaired and slipped, unobtrusively, into the gathering.