Roses for Mama Read online

  Angela wrote hurriedly, pressed to keep up with Thomas.

  “Your turn. Your turn,” her family finally was shouting.

  Angela chose to share one of Mama’s simple lessons.

  “I remember one day when I didn’t want to do the washing,” she began slowly. “There were lots of grimy clothes. Piles and piles, it seemed, and I thought I would never finish the wash. Mama said, ‘Angela, never let your task become a drudge. You are special. You are unique. No matter what your duty, no matter how distasteful you might find it, inside you can be whatever you decide to be. Outside, your hands might be soiled with daily toil—inside, your soul and spirit can be refined and elegant. You can be just as much a lady leaning over a tub of hot, sudsy water scrubbing farm-dirty socks as you can sitting on a velvet cushion, fanning yourself with a silk and ivory fan.’”

  “What did she mean?” whispered Sara.

  “Well,” responded Angela, “I think she was trying to tell us that work is necessary—but it is honorable. It is what you are—deep inside—not what you do that is important.”

  “You mean,” asked Sara, “I can pretend to be a grand lady while I’m washing the dishes?”

  “You don’t have to pretend,” answered Angela. “You can actually be one.”

  Chapter Seven

  Growing

  Angela was pleased with the children’s excitement over the memory game. Sunday after Sunday they exchanged their stories. With their memories refreshed by the discussions, Louise and Sara were surprised at how many events even they could remember. And Derek always added his brief account.

  “Derek still isn’t saying much in our game time, is he?” Thomas mentioned one evening as he and Angela sat on the porch together.

  “Just a line—a brief sentence,” Angela responded. “I hadn’t realized how—how many deep hurts must be buried inside him.”

  “I guess he was right at the age where he needed Papa and Mama the most. And we—you and I—were so busy trying to keep body and soul together that we missed seeing what it was doing to him.”

  “Poor soul,” sighed Angela. “Thomas, do you think we are doing enough?”

  Thomas pondered the question. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I just don’t know. But I’m not sure what else we can do.”

  “Do you think the minister might be able to help him?”

  “Maybe. I just don’t know.”

  “He is so withdrawn—yet so strangely sweet. It’s as though—as though he lives in fear of—of causing someone pain or something. He tries so hard to be good. Yet he—he seems so reluctant to even talk about the folks. I’m not sure he even likes our game—though there have been times when I’ve thought I have seen some light in his eyes at a memory we have discussed.”

  “Well, for now I guess we’ll just continue as we are. I think—I think maybe he is enjoying the company of other boys more. I see him at church joining the group of fellows outside after the service. He didn’t use to do that.”

  “At least he responds now, a little anyway. Though he never initiates a friendship, that’s encouraging.”

  Thomas was about to make another comment when their attention was drawn to a horse and rider coming down the lane.

  “It’s Thane,” announced Thomas, rising from his chair to wave a welcome.

  “He hasn’t been out for a while,” responded Angela.

  “His pa has been working him pretty hard in the store. He says he hardly has time to take a Saturday night bath,” Thomas laughed.

  “I’d better get something ready to eat,” Angela said as she stood up. “He’s always hungry.”

  Thomas laughed again, but he didn’t argue with her observation.

  Angela left for the kitchen as Thomas descended the porch steps to greet their visitor.

  Angela heard the voices and the laughter as she stirred lemonade and placed cookies on a plate. Then the voices lowered as though the topic of conversation had become more serious. She stepped out onto the porch in time to hear Thomas ask, “When did it happen?”

  “Almost a week ago. Word didn’t get out very soon—even though Doc knew about it. Guess Charlie asked him to keep it quiet.”

  Angela’s heart skipped a beat. Something had happened.

  “Is something wrong with Charlie?” she questioned, concern making her voice shake.

  “No, not Charlie,” Thomas quickly assured her. “Mr. Stratton has had a stroke.”

  “A stroke?” Angela thought of the man with his dour face and his curt nods. She had always been a bit afraid of him. Now she pitied him. Perhaps if they had been kinder, more neighborly, the man might have softened a bit.

  “Is it serious?” she asked, directing her question to Thane.

  He nodded slowly. “According to the report Pa got in the store, he’s in pretty bad shape.”

  “So that’s why we haven’t seen much of Charlie for the last week or so,” mused Thomas. “I was wondering why he hadn’t been over to check on my spring plowing.”

  “Guess he’s had his hands full just caring for his boss. Won’t let anyone else do it, so I hear.”

  Charlie was withered and poorly himself. He shouldn’t have to spend full time nursing another.

  I must get over there, Angela said to herself, vowing she would go first thing the next morning.

  Thane surprised her by changing the conversation abruptly. “I hear Trudie is throwing another party—she had so much fun at the last one.”

  Thane gave Thomas a teasing grin and punched him on the shoulder. Thomas reddened slightly but responded good-naturedly. “Jealous, old man?”

  “Not on your life,” continued Thane. “I have my eye on better things, but if you enjoy the chatter of a—” Thane stopped, suddenly realizing his remark would be in poor taste—” of a pretty little redhead,” he finished lamely, “so be it.”

  For just a moment Angela felt a bit smug. Thane shared her opinion of Trudie. She stole a quick look at Thomas. Would he be offended? Hurt? But Thomas seemed totally unruffled by Thane’s little slip. Angela sighed in relief and passed the cookies again.

  “I’m planting a bit of that new seed,” Thomas was saying. “The handful I tested is germinating well.”

  Thane turned to Thomas with a glow in his eyes. “Where is it?” he asked. “I’d like to see it.”

  Thomas ran for a lantern so he could lead Thane to the shed where he did his experimenting. Angela noticed excitement in both of them as they bounded down the steps, deep in conversation all the way to the small building.

  ———

  Early the next morning Angela wrapped a cake, fresh from the oven, and started off for the Stratton farm. It was a short distance across the stubble field and soon she was knocking on the door of the big house. She had never visited the Stratton home, and she held her breath as she stood before it, remembering the scowling face of the owner. The door opened tentatively at first, and then Charlie poked his head out. When he saw Angela he swung the door fully open.

  “Come in. Come in, girlie,” he invited.

  Angela stepped into the wide front hall. The heavy shades on the windows had not been raised, so it took a minute for Angela’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. When she got used to the veiled light she began to make out the objects lining the walls.

  The place was much more formal and feminine looking than she would have guessed, having been inhabited by men for so many years. Angela knew Charlie was allowed the privilege of a downstairs bedroom, and Gus, the cook, lived somewhere else inside the big house. Mr. Stratton, according to town gossip, occupied the upper portion. Angela let her gaze lift gently up the long, ornate staircase. She wasn’t sure who did the housekeeping chores. Rumor had it that Mr. Stratton would not allow a woman within the walls.

  Charlie spoke from beside her, and Angela broke off her daydreaming.

  “He’s quite poorly,” Charlie was saying as he accepted the cake Angela held out to him. “I don’t s’pose yer anxious to be
seein’ him—him being like he is.”

  “No. No-o,” faltered Angela. “I really came to see you, I guess. How—how are you managing?”

  Charlie shook his head, sadness in his eyes. “Never thought I’d live to see the day when that big man had to take to his bed,” he said simply.

  “How are you managing?” Angela asked again.

  “Me and Gus take turns. He needs someone night and day.”

  “Should you—should you get some outside help? Maybe Mrs.—”

  “Boss wouldn’t like thet much. He’s not used to women fussin’ around here.”

  “But if you need—”

  “We’ll manage jest fine,” Charlie insisted. Then he turned their attention to other things. “C’mon to the kitchen. I’ll fix us a cup of coffee.”

  Angela followed. She had never been in a man’s kitchen before and she wasn’t sure how Gus would keep his. When she saw him in town she had noticed that he was none too fussy about his own appearance. She expected his kitchen to reflect the same casual approach to things, but to her surprise the large, sunny room was in good order.

  “My!” she exclaimed before she could check herself, “it is nice and clean in here.”

  Charlie grinned and then said soberly, “Gus’d have the head of anyone who messed up his kitchen. He’s as fussy as an old woman ’bout it.”

  He cast a glance at Angela to see if she would take offense at his expression, but Angela paid no heed. She was much too busy gazing around the big room with its spacious cupboards and gleaming stove.

  “It’s nice,” Angela murmured, more to herself than to Charlie. He nodded in acknowledgment and poured a handful of coffee into the pot. After adding some water, he placed the pot on the stove and put a few more sticks of wood on the fire.

  “Sit down,” he invited. “Sit down and tell me how things have been goin’ at yer house. Since this here happened, I ain’t been nowhere—or heard nothin’.”

  “Well, I guess nothing much has happened over our way,” began Angela as she removed her bonnet and seated herself in a kitchen chair.

  “Thomas started in the field yet?”

  “Oh yes. He has most of the plowing finished.”

  “He gonna try some of thet there new seed?”

  “A little. He doesn’t dare plant much in case something happens. He doesn’t want to lose all his work. He did tell Thane the seed seems to be germinating fine, though.”

  Charlie shook his head and a bit of a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. Angela knew he had a fatherly interest in them and was pleased with Thomas’s success.

  “If he gets him a good, sturdy seed for these parts, he will have done us all a great favor,” Charlie commented.

  As soon as the coffee boiled, Charlie poured a cup, cut a generous piece of the cake Angela had brought, and started for the door.

  “I’ll be back in jest a jiffy,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll take this on up to Gus and see how things are goin’.”

  Angela nodded and sat stiffly in her chair as she listened to his lumbering footsteps climb the long stairs. A door opened and she heard voices, but they were too far away for her to make any sense of the words.

  Soon Charlie was back, his expression sober. “Gus says there’s been no change. We keep hopin’, but it don’t look good. Doc says he—he ain’t likely to come out of it.”

  Angela didn’t know whom she felt sorriest for. The crotchety rancher or his devoted foreman and cook. She knew both Charlie and Gus were suffering over the illness of their long-time boss.

  “Is there anything we can do?” she asked Charlie. “I could take a shift with the nursing if—”

  “No, no. You got ’nough to do carin’ for those young’uns. Me an’ Gus’ll make out just fine.”

  “But what about the other work? The cattle and—”

  “Got enough hired help around here thet they oughta be able to see to thet. About time thet some of them started to earn their keep,” said Charlie with a wave of his hand.

  They had their coffee together and Angela excused herself.

  “Be sure to let us know if we can do anything,” she said as she left. “You know we’d be glad to help out.” She could have added, “After all you’ve done for us over the years,” but she didn’t. Charlie probably understood.

  “I will. I will,” promised Charlie. “Thet cake was mighty appreciated. Gus hasn’t been doin’ his usual meal-fixin’ lately.”

  Angela left with the resolve that she would send over more baking in a couple of days and as often as she felt it was needed until things improved at the Stratton household. It was the least she could do to try to lighten their load.

  ———

  “Come quick! Come quick!” Sara burst frantically into the room and grabbed Angela.

  “What’s wrong?” demanded Angela, grasping the young girl’s shoulders and holding her at arms’ length to look into her face.

  “Louise!—” shrieked Sara.

  “What happened?” Angela cried, shaking the slight shoulders. “Where is she? What happened?”

  “She doesn’t know.”

  “Where is she?” Angela repeated with another shake.

  “In the bedroom,” Sara managed to reply.

  Angela released Sara and rushed to the bedroom, her heart hammering within her breast. Louise was there, lying across her bed, sobs shaking her body. At least she is in one piece, thought Angela with relief.

  “What is it?” Angela asked, dropping to her knees beside the bed and lifting Louise into her arms.

  “I—I think I’m—I’m dying,” the child sobbed, a fresh torrent of tears running down her cheeks.

  “What is it? Why? Are you ill? Did you—?”

  “I don’t know. I must be,” sobbed the frightened girl.

  Sara joined Louise in crying.

  “Listen, both of you. Stop it. Stop the crying. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  After asking only a few questions, Angela realized that her sister was not dying. Angela lifted herself from her knees to the bed and gathered Louise into her arms.

  “You poor thing. You poor thing,” she crooned, brushing her hair back from the flushed face.

  “It’s all right. You’re fine. Really. You are just growing up, that’s all. I should have known—should have thought—but I didn’t. Mama would have known. She would have talked to you and prepared you. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

  Angela looked from one girl to the other. They had both managed to quit crying. Their faces were still flushed and tear-streaked, and their shoulders still shook with an occasional sob, but they both seemed to be under control again.

  Angela patted the bed beside her. “Climb up here beside us, Sara,” she invited. “You are a bit young, but there is no help for it now. You might as well hear what I have to say to Louise.”

  Angela took a deep breath, trying hard to remember what her mother had said in their little chat years ago. She wasn’t sure if she did it well, or if she was thoroughly understood by her two young sisters, but she did the best she could. In the end the faces were at peace again. Louise even managed a wobbly smile. Angela was only too glad to finish her mission and escape back to her kitchen.

  Chapter Eight

  The Unexpected

  Thomas had worked hard in the field all day and was still warm and tired when he joined Angela on the veranda where she worked on the hem of a new dress for Louise.

  “She’s growing awfully fast, isn’t she?” he observed, and Angela nodded. Far too quickly as far as I’m concerned, she thought.

  “Do you think—” Thomas began, but Thane’s arrival interrupted the thought.

  “What are you up to?” Thomas called to Thane. “Can’t your pa think of anything worthwhile to put you to doing?” he teased.

  Thane stepped down from his horse and flipped the reins around the hitching post.

  “Boy,” said Thane, “I’m most ready to drop in my tracks, my pa’s been worki
ng me so hard. If it hadn’t been that I was worried some about my friend Tom, I would have just fallen in my bed and stayed right there.”

  Angela had heard the friendly bantering many times. She listened now with a slight smile. Thane was good for Thomas. His good-natured teasing helped lift the weight from her brother’s young shoulders for a short time.

  Angela laid aside the dress she was working on and went to get some refreshments.

  “How’s the new seed doing?” she heard Thane asking Thomas.

  “Great. Just great. If we had more light, I’d show you. Why do you always come out here in the dark?”

  “I tell you,” responded Thane. “If I didn’t come in the dark, I wouldn’t get here at all. Pa’s been pushing me at the store. He’s adding a whole new section on the side. A big storage area and—”

  Angela passed out of earshot. She could hear only the murmur of voices and an occasional hearty laugh.

  When she returned with the milk and donuts the young men were talking about baseball. Angela passed the refreshments and picked up the garment again. It was too dark now to see well enough to finish the hem. With a sigh she laid the dress down again and settled in her chair to listen to the conversation.

  Thane was quick to bring her in. “I hear you’ve been helping out the Stratton household with baking.”

  Angela nodded.

  “Gus was in town for some supplies and he’s been bragging all over town about what a top-notch cook you are.”

  “Nothing fancy about what I’ve been sending,” said Angela, embarrassed. “Guess if one is hungry enough, anything tastes good.”

  Thane grinned and winked at Thomas. “Think you and I have tried enough of her cooking over the years to know it isn’t hunger that causes a man to come back for more,” he said, and Angela knew she had just been paid a nice compliment.

  “How is Mr. Stratton?” asked Angela.