Tracie Peterson (2 page)

The organist began playing a soft medley of hymns. Ashley had spent some twenty years attending this small Kansas church, but she didn’t recognize the woman now seated at the organ. Times changed. People grew up and moved away and people died. Died without caring about reconciling the past. Died without knowing what the future might hold.

“Come on, girls,” Mattie said, motioning them toward the front row of pews. “It’s time to pay our last respects.”

Ashley took a seat beside her grandmother, while Brook sat on the other side of her. It seemed ridiculous to pretend to care about the woman in the casket. She had never been much more than an
image in a photograph.
How does one pay their last respects
, Ashley wondered silently,
when there was no respect in the first place?

Chapter 2

For as long as Deirdre could recall, the church had looked much the same. The single narrow aisle down the center of the building led straight through the sanctuary to the slightly elevated pulpit. Positioned at the base of the stage, a twelve-foot wooden rail marked the place where people could come and kneel in prayer. Deirdre had accepted Jesus as her Savior at that altar railing. She had seen her sisters do likewise. It was here that Mattie came regularly to lay her various burdens at the feet of Jesus. And now it was the place where Rachelle Barrister’s casket had been so artfully displayed.

Deirdre nervously crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. Folding her hands in her lap, she was determined not to think about her mother’s lifeless body in the casket at the front of the church. Rachelle meant nothing to her. She was little more than a stranger, and in her absence, Mattie had been the only mother any of them had ever known or wanted.

Deirdre knew it was Rachelle’s desertion that made her cling so protectively to her relationship with her own daughter, Morgan. She had wanted to bring Morgan with her to Grammy’s but realized that Dave’s suggestion of keeping her in Kansas City made more sense. His folks were only five and a half hours away in St. Louis. Besides, they loved nothing more than to come and spend time with their only grandchild.

Deirdre had finally agreed, knowing that Morgan would probably have more fun, and this way she would also not have her kindergarten attendance disrupted. But Deirdre needed her daughter. Even if she was only five years old, Deirdre found a source of
strength in Morgan’s presence. Motherhood had been fiercely important to Deirdre. She wanted children more than anything else, and when she’d been blessed to have Morgan, she immediately began to plan for her child’s future. Maybe that was why it was so hard to imagine her own mother giving birth to five children only to desert them all. Grammy had tried many times to explain—even excuse Rachelle—but somehow it had never rung true for Deirdre, who would rather die than be separated permanently from her daughter.

When Rachelle had run away and married Gary Gable at age sixteen, she found herself almost immediately pregnant with twins. Abortion wasn’t legal at that time, and even if it had been, Rachelle had held to the beliefs of her upbringing that a human life was indeed a human life—whether she wanted it to be or not. Rachelle gave birth to her daughters, then quickly found herself overwhelmed with them. Hoping to save her young marriage, Rachelle had begged Mattie to take Brook and Ashley before hurrying off to try to reconcile with her husband.

But it was a marriage hardly worth saving, as far as Deirdre was concerned. How could a mother who chose her husband over her children and a father who couldn’t have cared less that they even existed be selfless enough to make a marriage work? It had begun to disintegrate almost from the start—and why not? They were both too young. He was into drugs and drinking and she was simply looking for a male figure to fill the void left by her father’s death.

When Connie was born, everyone who knew the young couple realized Connie wasn’t Gary’s child. Thus, getting rid of Connie and relegating her to Mattie had been an easy choice. Two years later, however, with the hope that their marriage was finally on the right track, Rachelle had given birth to Deirdre. She was to be their love child. They were going to raise Deirdre and focus their attention and time on her, and they were going to do things right. Never mind that Mattie was back in Council Grove, Kansas, raising three little girls all under the age of five.

Deirdre often found herself feeling guilty about her position.
Her sisters knew that Rachelle had purposefully gotten pregnant with Deirdre—the only one of the five she had planned. Her sisters also knew that while their mother had decided on a new life with Deirdre as her child, they were given little consideration. Deirdre felt horrible for that, but it wasn’t like she’d had anything to do with it. Besides, it didn’t work out the way Rachelle had planned anyway.

Things might have gone all right, had Gary Gable not found another love. Heroin became his full-time mistress. And by the time Rachelle found out how much money Gary was putting into his heroin addiction, she had learned to her horror that she was pregnant again, despite being on birth-control pills. Realizing the babies would be born barely nine months apart, Rachelle considered abortion to be a reasonable way out.

But then Gary had died from an overdose, and Rachelle had been too stupefied to do anything. Within months of Erica’s birth, however, other people had taken Rachelle in hand and the life they had plotted out for her had nothing to do with children. Once again, Rachelle made the trek to Mattie’s farm and left yet two more children with her mother. Only this time she assured Mattie there would be no more. She’d had her tubes tied to prevent further pregnancy and was leaving the area for good. Then, to Mattie’s surprise, she laid out adoption papers with the promise that if Mattie didn’t take her daughters, Rachelle would put them into a state agency.

Deirdre sometimes wondered if her mother would have really taken her children to the agency, but there was no way of knowing the answer. Mattie had apparently thought it a big enough threat that she took on the responsibility of two more children without further consideration.

Glancing down the row at her grandmother, Deirdre thought Mattie Mitchell deserved some kind of award for her sacrifice.
I wouldn’t be here if not for her. I wouldn’t know love or security or even how to care for Morgan, if not for Grammy.

Deirdre glanced forward and forced herself to reconsider Rachelle.
I don’t even know you. I have no memory of anything personal or real with
you. You are nothing more than an image—a thought. A very fleeting thought.

As she settled into the pew, Ashley thought about the pain and suffering Rachelle had caused. Ashley convinced herself that it didn’t matter, however. She was only really here for Mattie. Mattie, the only mother Ashley had ever known. The only mother she would ever need.

But if that’s true
, she thought,
then why do I have such a feeling of disappointment?
It was almost as if she felt cheated and let down. But why? Why should she care that Rachelle was gone, when she’d never been there in the first place? Why should Ashley even give it a second thought?

She is your mother
, a voice in her head reminded.

But in name only
, Ashley argued with herself.
She left us with Grammy and rarely ever bothered to even find out how we were doing. She chose her life and we weren’t a part of it.

Despite Ashley’s attempts to eliminate Rachelle’s image from her life, she knew quite well that her mother had always been an unseen presence. Ashley had purposefully scrutinized Rachelle’s shortcomings and had tallied them in a mental list, determined to be nothing at all like her mother.

Ashley had married a handsome professional man, settled into an upper-class community, and given birth to two boys. She was the epitome of a successful woman. A superwoman—at least her own version of one. But behind it all, she sadly had to admit, she had been driven by Rachelle’s image.

As bad a mother as Rachelle had been, Ashley had worked in the opposite direction in order to be noted for her capabilities and graciousness in the role. She never complained when the PTO called her the night before to request four dozen cookies for a class party. Instead, she would always brush off the oversight and ask if four dozen would be enough. Then, should the mere mention be made of buying cookies at the store, Ashley would nix the idea, proclaiming it no trouble at all to bake them herself. She was just as bad when it came to working with the social groups she and Jack
had chosen for their pastimes.

Frowning, she bit her lip.
Rachelle has made me who I am . . . I was driven by a desire to be nothing like her.
As she pondered the revelation, it slowly revealed the reason behind her disappointment. Ashley supposed she would have liked to have had her mother acknowledge her accomplishments.

If just once she would have come to see the boys
, Ashley thought sadly. Just once. Just to see what they looked like . . . if they favored her. If only Rachelle would have taken time away from the world she’d created for herself in order to partake of the world she’d left behind.

I could have forgiven her then
, Ashley reasoned.
If she would have come to me . . . even then . . . I could have forgiven her the lost years.

Brook, too, was troubled by thoughts of the years she’d spent hoping for some kind of acknowledgment from her mother. Her anxiety had caused her to throw up twice before even getting as far as the church, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be able to keep from running to the rest room to relieve herself before the funeral was completed.

She hated her nervous stomach. Hated that she felt light-headed and faint anytime something became overly traumatic. Her friends teased her that if living in New York City didn’t keep her in a perpetual state of anxiety, then why should simple things like dating or going home to family cause her to lose her lunch?

But it wasn’t a simple thing to return home. Mattie was too perceptive and Ashley could read her like a book. Deirdre, Erica, and Connie were less capable of knowing her innermost thoughts, but they weren’t averse to trying to figure them out. Privacy was a luxury in a large family.

Flexing her fingers, Brook laced them together and sat nervously, awaiting the eulogy. She didn’t want to think about the woman in the coffin. She didn’t want the others to know how it hurt her to realize she was never going to know Rachelle Barrister—her own mother.

It’s just that she never wanted us
, Brook thought, staring at an arrangement of apricot roses.
She didn’t want a family—she wanted a career. If she had ever shown us the slightest reason to believe she was acting in our best interest instead of her own . . .

Brook sighed and pushed aside those thoughts, as she did all the other unpleasant feelings . . . feelings of betrayal and frustration and bitterness. Rachelle’s betrayal had fueled Brook’s need for revenge, a need to prove her own beauty and ability. During long flights and endless modeling sessions, when everyone from photographers to agents had made passes at her, Brook’s desire to show up Rachelle kept her motivated.

She crossed her legs and relaced her fingers. Why did it have to be this way? What purpose was there in the events of her life? Gram had said that all things happened for a reason—that coincidences didn’t exist. If that were true, then how could Brook explain her life—the choices—the mistakes? Without the hope of trying to attract Rachelle’s attention, what purpose did she have in going back to a world she had come to despise?

As if reading her mind, Ashley leaned over and whispered, “I feel so lost.”

Brook met her sister’s ashen-faced expression. “Me too.”

“I think I have been trying to one-up Rachelle. Isn’t that awful? It’s just finally sinking in. I wanted to show her how great I’d turned out—how I did it all without her. And now she’s gone and she probably never knew and furthermore, never cared.”

“I know how you feel,” Brook whispered back.

Ashley’s gaze was direct. “Really?”

“I hate to admit it, but I’m seeing a side of myself that I have ignored for a long, long time. And I fear I might find myself more devastated over Rachelle’s death than I ever expected to be.”

“I was just thinking that. I would never, ever have expected it.”

“Never,” Brook muttered, shaking her head. “We might as well have never existed as far as Rachelle was concerned, yet here she is in the middle of our lives, having a control we vowed she
would never have.”

Ashley’s voice fell silent and Brook caught a rustling sound behind her. Turning to look, she couldn’t help being stunned to meet the sober expression of Harry Jensen. He gave her the briefest nod before squeezing Mattie’s shoulders in a supportive manner. Mattie turned, and Brook saw the way her face lit up to find her lifelong neighbor sitting behind her. After Harry’s parents had died and he’d inherited the farm adjoining the Mitchell land, he and Mattie had become like mother and son. Mattie and her husband, Edgar, had been good friends with Harry’s parents. In fact, Edgar and Harry’s father, Jacob, had been the best of friends. They might as well have been blood family for the way they took care of each other. And in the same way, Brook knew that Harry had come here to support Mattie in her hour of need. Mindless of how it might affect anyone else.