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 meandered 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.”
Grace threw the plastic scoop toward the oat bin, and it hit the ground as she hurried out of the barn. Rose didn’t have it in her to remind Grace to put it where it belonged.
Walking out of the barn, Rose saw Joel at the woodpile, filling his arms with wood for the fireplace and stove. Snow swirled about, and she longed to hurry toward him and chat as if everything was back to normal. She drew a breath and headed for the house instead.
“Daed!” Grace ran for him as if they’d been separated for weeks.
Joel shifted the stack of wood to one arm and knelt. Grace hugged him with both arms, and he hugged her tight. He gazed up at Rose, but she pretended not to notice, looking at the milk in the pail, at the pasture, and even at the back of Grace’s prayer Kapp.
“We had the best time, Daed! Mammi Kate gave me a faceless doll that belonged to Mama!” Grace kissed his cheek. “It’s packed in our suitcase, but Elise said you gotta build a shelf for it ’cause if I don’t play with it, I can put it up high and pass it on to my daughter one day.”
He studied her. “That’s great, sweetie.”
Grace nodded. “I’m going to tell the boys. That’s what Mama calls her brothers—the boys.” Grace hurried up the stairs to the house.
Joel stood and shifted the stack of wood. Their eyes met, and his lips curved in a smile, but it didn’t radiate from his eyes. What had she done? It was Christmas Eve, and they were miserable.
He nodded. “Morning. I’m glad you’re back.”
“Hi, yeah.” She forced her feet to move, and she went up the stairs and into the house ahead of him. The aroma of coffee filled the air. He’d fed the boys and had a roaring fire going, and she had milked the cow. They were a good team.
She went into the kitchen and he into the living room. While she stored milk in containers and put them in the fridge, Joel continued bringing in wood and filling the woodbins.
She put his favorite snack on to bake—coffeecake made from an instant-potato starter. Joel went outside again, and a few minutes later returned with the newspaper. She poured him a cup of coffee and set it at his spot.
“Denki.” He smiled again, clearly trying to be friendly. The chair at the head of the table squeaked as he shifted it to sit down. “Rose, when you want to talk about your trip, I’m very interested in hearing about it.”
She felt her chest tighten. Could she tell him what happened with her Mamm? “Okay…it was good. But not yet.”
He nodded and then began reading his paper, and she returned to her kitchen duties. Today was about just the five of them—their favorite foods and activities. Christmas Day was for extended family, which was Joel’s parents, siblings, and cousins. Second Christmas, which took place on the twenty-sixth, was about spending time with distant family and close friends.
She would call her parents and brothers tomorrow, but they might have even less to say than usual since she had just been with them. Her mind unintentionally drifted to a Christmas when she was much younger, when her mother’s anger was constant. The pain of those awful days flooded her, and she realized it was a very familiar pain—the same one she was feeling with Joel.
Dear God, I’ve wasted too much of my life undermining myself and doubting my worthiness. I’m so weary of feeling unloved. I don’t care if I’m this way because of the damage done as I grew up. I need Your help to get free.
She couldn’t determine what Joel’s motivations were regarding the annulment if all she could see and feel was her unworthiness. She was addicted to thoughts of being unloved and unworthy. That part of who she was had stayed relatively hidden until she became vulnerable in front of Joel.
Let Your truth set me free.
Since arriving in Forest Hill, she had been set free in a lot of ways. Joel was more than kind and patient. He believed in her in ways she never believed in herself. She couldn’t ask to live in a better home.
Fresh hurt rolled through her, but she pushed it aside and sat in her spot adjacent to his. She fought with herself, wanting to put her hand over his, but she just couldn’t. There had been too much rejection from him for her to reach out again.
He set the folded newspaper aside, his eyes searching hers. “Frehlich Grischtdaag, mei sweet, Rose.” The tenderness in his voice made tears well in her eyes.
Her heart moved to her throat, and she clutched his hand, wanting to wish him a Merry Christmas too, but the words wouldn’t come.
He ran his fingers over her hand. “How about we set aside the disagreements and angst and enjoy Christmas?”
She nodded. “Denki.”
“If I can be out of the doghouse for at least three days, you don’t need to thank me. I thank you.” He held up his mug as if cheering her.
Was he telling her the truth—that he loved her?
The next hours became a dance of awkward silences between them. She tried to hide in the kitchen and keep him out of it. He played board games with the children in front of the fire, and she started preparations for everyone’s favorite dishes for their Christmas Eve feast.
“Rose?” Joel walked into the kitchen, Levi by his side, and both had game pieces of some sort in their hands. “I think we should go ice-skating now. If we wait until our usual time, the snow will be too thick.”
She wasn’t sure she was up for it. Could she act like the happy mother while searching for what was true about their life together?
“You take them.”
“Without you?” He looked as hurt as he was surprised. “But we always…” He sighed. “Your call.” He turned to Levi. “Tell Grace and Mose to get dressed for ice-skating.”
“Without you, Mama?” Levi seemed every bit as disappointed as his Daed.
Rose touched the tip of his nose. “You gotta cut me some slack here, kiddo. Talk Mose and Grace into accepting it too. I got a late start on this year’s Christmas Eve feast, okay?” She usually baked the whole day before Christmas Eve, and she hadn’t been here to do that, so her words were true. But if she felt more like herself, she’d cut even more items from tonight’s menu and go skating.
“Okay, Mama. But just this one time.” Levi ran off, whooping about going skating.
The frenzy of getting ready began, and the house rumbled with the pitter-patter of excited horses, a team of them. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stop believing in her lack of worth and believe Joel? The least she could do was pretend to believe, even if she stayed knotted up inside with doubt. That way they could continue with some shred of normalcy.
Soon Joel and the children were out the door, and she waved to the children before returning to the kitchen. This was how quiet life would be if she moved out…and when Grace went to school in two years. Rose longed for another baby, but more than that she just wanted to be Joel’s wife the way husbands and wives were meant to be together.
As she was kneading her batch of yeast rolls, there was a loud knock on the door. Wiping her hands on a wet rag, she went to the door and opened it.
Erma?
She looked…different. Rose took a step back, and Erma entered. The woman reminded Rose of her Mamm. Even knowing how her Mamm had changed, Rose was damaged inside, and forgiving people for the harm they’d done didn’t erase the scars. If Hank had scratched Grace’s eyes, forgiving his owners wouldn’t have undone the damage.
Erma unbuttoned her coat. “After you left the other night, I went to Florence’s old room. I spent hours rummaging through her things, like I do from time to time. I spent most of yesterday doing the same, and then I found something I don’t recall ever seeing before.” She pulled a manila envelope out from the safety of the bib of her apron and gave it to Rose. “My Florence drew this. I wanted to hold it close and feel her presence—something special for me—but I didn’t feel that.” She tapped the envelope. “I felt a specialness from her toward you. Just as sure as I know my name, I know she wanted you to have this.”
Rose started to open the envelope, but Erma stopped her. “I need to go. I have been wrong, Rose.” Erma got to the door. “It wasn’t you that I hated. It just looked and felt that way to both of us, and I’m sorry.” She left.
Erma’s words went round and round inside Rose. “It wasn’t me that Erma hated. It just looked and felt like it,” Rose whispered, pondering the newness of the thought, and her world trembled as warm light seemed to penetrate the coldness of her childhood.
Her mother hadn’t been angry and disappointed in Rose all those times. It just looked and felt that way to both Mamm and Rose.
A moment later beautiful, powerful thoughts welled within her, and she imagined God’s hand reaching down and removing her from the path of her Mamm’s anger and then Jesus stepping in Rose’s place. Chills covered Rose from head to toe. He lifted His head and arms, looking at Rose’s Mamm, and absorbed all the hurt for Rose.
She also realized what her Mamm had meant yesterday—that the harsh words weren’t about her. It had just felt that way. Since the before-dawn moment when she’d seen Joel with Gertie and then learned that an annulment was being discussed, Rose had been pounded by the familiar wounds from her childhood. The rejection, the hurt, and the words of love without being able to see the truth in them—they’d ripped at her without reprieve, just as they had done before she’d moved here.
She did it to Me, Rose. Not you.
Was Rose imagining those words? They came with such power and filled her with peace. The pain of her childhood wasn’t hers to bear anymore. Whenever hurtful, embarrassing words squeezed in from the past, Rose would visualize Jesus standing there in her stead.
Her hands trembled as she opened the envelope. She pulled out a thick piece of paper that had a rectangular box centered in the middle of the page with script inside it.
Believe in yourself. God does.
Rose gasped for air and had to sit down. She stumbled into a kitchen chair and read the words again.
Believe in yourself. God does.
She clutched the paper to her chest and closed her eyes, keenly aware that confidence and a sense of worthiness were being poured into her, like hot wax into a candle mold. “Denki, Gott,” she whispered over and over again.
The desire to look at the words again caused her to lower the paper, and she noticed the paper was filled with colored-pencil drawings of dozens of roses in an array of beautiful shades. Some of the roses had stems that wove around the words—Believe in yourself. God does.
Without any doubt she believed God wanted her to weave her life around those words.
She ran her fingers over the beautiful artwork. This needed to be framed and hung where Florence’s children could see it every day. Her emotions were running wild and were deeply connected with God, but her thoughts turned to Joel.
The poor man. She’d been so hard on him of late. He couldn’t say or do anything right because of the pain she carried that had nothing to do with him. She closed her eyes. “Denki, Gott,” she whispered a dozen times. “Show me what to do right now, and let Your truth set our marriage free.”