Sarah bolted upright in bed, covered her face, and wept as her daughter wrapped her arms around her.
“Mommy, wake up! It’s okay.”
Sarah fought to catch her breath as she clung to Miriam, the familiar shame creeping to the surface. A five-year-old should never be woken up from a sound sleep to comfort her screaming mother.
As the door flew open, her parents hurried into the room. Sarah’s mother immediately reached for Miriam, touching her on the arm. “What’s wrong with Miriam?”
“It’s not me, Mammi.” Miriam eased out of Sarah’s arms and pointed to her mother. “It’s her. Mommy gets bad dreams.”
Sarah uncovered her eyes but couldn’t stop the sobs. If ever she needed a mother, it was now. Would Barbara reach out to her too?
Before Sarah could protest, her father had picked up Miriam and was leaving the room. “I think we need midnight cookies and milk. How does that sound?” He kissed Miriam on the cheek, but she wiggled out of his arms, almost bringing them both down onto the hardwood floor before she ran back to her mother.
“I’m not leaving Mommy!”
Sarah fought to slow her breathing as she pulled Miriam into a hug. “I’m okay, sweetie. You go eat cookies with Daadi. It’s not normally allowed, so you’d better take advantage of it.” Sarah forced a smile. “Go ahead. It was just another bad dream, and remember how Mommy told you dreams can’t hurt you?” Although Sarah was tormented every time she had the nightmare.
“Are you sure?” Miriam blinked teary eyes.
Sarah tried to smile again. “Go, Miriam. I promise. I’m all right.”
Miriam slowly got off the bed and went to her grandfather’s outstretched hand. Sarah’s father closed the door behind them, and she waited for her mother to hug her, to say something, or to show her half the affection she’d shown Miriam since they arrived. But her mother only sat on the bed and stared at her, expressionless.
“I’m fine, Barbara. You don’t have to stay.” Sarah swiped at her eyes.
“Barbara? Is that what you’re calling me now?”
Sarah hadn’t meant for it to slip out. She’d been avoiding calling her mother anything. “I saw the look you gave me when I called you Mamm when we first arrived.”
“I hadn’t heard you call me that in a long time. I was just taken aback for a moment, but I certainly don’t want you calling me Barbara. I’m happy for you to call me Mamm if you want to.”
I do want to. Sarah scooted backward until she was sitting up and leaning against her pillow. “Seriously, you don’t have to stay. I had a bad dream, but I’m fine now.”
Her mother, dressed in a white nightgown that fell well past her knees, swung her legs up on the bed, fluffed Miriam’s pillow, then leaned against it and crossed her ankles, as if she was planning to stay awhile.
Her mother pulled her long dark hair over her shoulder and began braiding it. “What was the dream about?”
“I don’t remember.” It was a lie, but talking about it was like living it again.
“Does this happen often?”
Sarah wanted to yell for her mother to get out. “No.”
“Hmm . . . That’s gut. Even though it’s a lie.”
Sarah slowly turned and faced her mother, her chest tightening. But she didn’t say a word.
“Miriam has obviously seen this happen before.” Barbara—or Mamm—finished the braid, left it loose at the end, and put her hands in her lap. “Does Miriam have nightmares?”
“No.” Maybe if Sarah kept her answers short, her mother would get the hint.
They were quiet for a while. Sarah folded her arms across her chest.
“How did your meeting with Abram go? Do you think you’ll be able to resolve your differences?”
Steam was rising from Sarah’s head, she was sure of it. Her mother was still as insensitive as she’d been when Sarah was younger. Why couldn’t she just pull her daughter into a hug, instead of marching into her own agenda? Clenching her fists at her sides, Sarah reminded herself that this woman was her mother, but even after taking in a deep breath, she wasn’t any calmer.
“I snuck out in the middle of the night and didn’t look back.” She cut her eyes at her mother. “I’d say there’s a little bit more to it than resolving our differences.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure our coming here will make things awkward for you in the eyes of your friends, and if I would just come to my senses, confess that I made a horrible mistake, get baptized, and marry Abram, your life would be perfect.”
Her mother slowly got off the bed, walked to the bedroom door, and gently closed it behind her as she left.
Sarah and her mother fought like feral cats when Sarah was a teenager, but her father always said it was because they were both strong women with strong opinions about things.
The teenager was grown up. Her mother didn’t know her anymore. Otherwise, she would have pulled Sarah into a big hug, rubbed her hair, kissed her on the cheek, and told her that everything was going to be all right.
Nothing was ever going to be okay, but Sarah put her best foot forward each day for the one person who mattered. Miriam.
But she didn’t feel like the mom right now. She was the child, and as she curled into a fetal position on the bed, she sobbed.
Barbara stood on the other side of the door as her daughter cried, wanting nothing more than to go to her, to hold her, to comfort her. As her own tears poured down her cheeks, she wondered what she’d done wrong as a mother, something she’d pondered for years.
She and Sarah didn’t see eye-to-eye when Sarah was a teenager, but there had never been any doubt that they loved each other. At least, not in Barbara’s eyes. But the way Sarah spoke to her now made her wonder if Sarah had loved her even half as much as Barbara loved her daughter. Why else would she leave the way she did, pregnant or not? Barbara would have been disappointed, maybe even livid, and surely embarrassed. But they would have gotten through it. And Barbara would have been around to see Miriam grow from a baby into the beautiful and smart little girl she was now. She would have seen her daughter growing into the role of motherhood.
She put her hand on the doorknob and kept it there for a few moments. Then she turned and left to join John and Miriam downstairs, slowing her pace when she reached the landing. She took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her tears. Then she took a deep breath and started walking again. Maybe Miriam would offer more information than Sarah.
“These are the best cookies ever.” Miriam beamed as she talked with her mouth full. Barbara wondered how many chocolate chip cookies she’d had, remembering how sugar late at night used to prevent Sarah from getting to sleep.
“That’s my mammi’s recipe.” Barbara pulled out a chair next to John’s, both of them facing Miriam. “Does your mommy have a lot of these bad dreams?”
John cut his eyes at Barbara disapprovingly, as if to discourage her from questioning the girl. But when Miriam nodded, he softened his expression.
“Does she ever say what the dreams are about?” Barbara reached for a cookie. She wouldn’t sleep for a while anyway.
“The monster.”
Barbara swallowed the bite in her mouth. “A monster?” She glanced at John, who was also listening intently to their granddaughter.
Miriam nodded.
Barbara wasn’t sure how hard to push since Miriam hadn’t elaborated. “Dreams can be scary, but I’m sure your mamm told you that monsters aren’t real, ya?”
Miriam’s cheeks dimpled as she smiled broadly. “I like the way you talk.”
Barbara glanced at John, who grinned. Then Barbara spoke to her granddaughter in Pennsylvania Deutsch, and Miriam laughed. “What did you say?”
“I said that I have a very pretty granddaughter.”
Miriam smiled, but not quite as much. She put the uneaten half of her cookie on the plate John had gotten for her and lowered her eyes. After a few seconds, she locked eyes with Barbara and blinked a few times. “You know, monsters are real. Even though Mommy says they aren’t, I know they are.”
Barbara tipped her head to one side. “Why do you say that?”
Miriam pinched off a piece of the uneaten cookie but didn’t put it in her mouth. She sighed. “Can I go back to bed now?”
Barbara opened her mouth to speak, but John cleared his throat, frowning, and she adhered to the warning not to push Miriam.
“Why don’t I go check on Mommy first?” She nodded to John. “And your daadi can get you some milk with chocolate in it.”
“Okay.” Miriam didn’t smile. The cookies had been a distraction, and not a very long one.
Barbara walked upstairs, and when she got to Sarah’s bedroom, she saw a faint light from under the door, so she tapped lightly.
“Come in.”
Barbara stepped over the threshold. Sarah had lit the lantern and was sitting in bed, her knees to her chest. “Is Miriam okay?”
“She’s fine.” Barbara sat down on the edge of the queen-size bed. Sarah’s old bed. The one she was now sharing with her daughter.
“Everything is exactly the same as when I left.” Sarah’s eyes scanned the room, landing on the bookshelf she’d asked her father to make when she was around ten. “You could have given my books to someone to enjoy.”
Barbara glanced at Sarah’s collection, six shelves’ worth. “I wanted you to have them if you came back.”
“And here I am.” She smiled slightly.
“And here you are.” Barbara swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. After a few awkward moments of silence, she cleared her throat. “Miriam thinks monsters are real. At least, that’s what she said.”
Sarah sighed. “If you are going to question my parenting skills, you should know that I have told her repeatedly that there are no such things as monsters.”
Barbara bit her tongue, recalling the way she and Sarah talked to each other when Sarah was a teenager. She didn’t want to go back to that. “I’m not questioning your parenting skills. Miriam is lovely and well-mannered.” She planned to keep her promise about not tattling on Miriam for saying “poo-poo head.” “It’s just that she was so serious when she said that about the monsters being real.”
“Miriam is a very smart little girl. All I can do is to keep telling her that the monster is only in Mommy’s dream, and it can’t hurt us. I regret ever telling her that my nightmares were about a monster, but it seemed easier than telling her the—” She stopped and shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Easier than telling her the truth? What is it that wakes you so viciously in the middle of the night?”
Sarah stared at her long and hard. “The monster.”
Barbara felt the fear radiating from her daughter, and again she longed to hold and comfort her. But fear of rejection kept her from it. So much armor had chipped from the wall around her heart that she felt totally exposed. Sarah wasn’t her enemy, she reminded herself. She was her daughter. Is. And forever would be.
“Does the monster have a name?” Barbara realized she was talking to Sarah as one might talk to a young child. The way she comforted her all those years ago.
Sarah opened her mouth to say something, but then looked away before speaking. “Nope. It’s just a silly dream I have over and over again about a monster.” She turned to Barbara. “Thank you and Daed for entertaining Miriam, but I’m fine now, so you can send her up whenever you want.”
Barbara smiled. “Or you could come eat midnight cookies. We certainly didn’t allow that when you were that age.”
Sarah smiled a little too. “I think I’d just like to cuddle up with Miriam and go back to sleep.”
“Ya. Okay.” Barbara stood and was almost out the door when she turned around. “Do you need anything?”
Sarah sighed. “To face the monster, I guess.”
The monster. Barbara’s heart raced. She was sure they were no longer talking about a child’s version of a monster. This was something real.