The Gift of a Child by Laura Abbot Page B

Larned when she was pressed into service to help with a delivery. Sadly the mother had died. The travail of childbirth was not to be taken lightly, yet it was an ordeal she would gladly have undergone if only... Disgusted with the direction of her thoughts, she picked up her papa’s stocking and attacked a hole with fingers flying.
    Watching Alf set his “sojers” on the blocks, Rose couldn’t help recalling Sheriff Jensen’s words. Could it be that Alf was the child of a former soldier and an Indian woman? Yet the trail was cold. Perhaps no more information would be forthcoming and she could formally adopt the boy. She prayed it would be so.
    When Bess’s lesson came to an end, Lily stuck her head out the door. “That cobbler smells mighty good.”
    Rose called Alf to come to the kitchen. After dishing up generous portions of the dessert, the women turned to community matters. “I think the Courthouse Ball will be the grandest occasion Chase County has ever experienced and a fitting way to celebrate the building’s dedication,” Bess said. “A small orchestra is coming from Topeka. There will be sumptuous refreshments, speeches and dancing. We must begin planning our gowns.”
    “How glorious!” Lily gushed.
    Rose wished she could work up enthusiasm, but she couldn’t imagine what she could wear or with whom she might dance. Her experience with such grand affairs had been limited and painful.
    “The committee will soon be announcing plans in the newspaper,” Bess added. “We are hoping everyone in the region will attend.”
    “Later in the summer, we have the county-wide camp meeting to look forward to. Brother Hampton Orbison will be coming all the way from Iowa to preach the word.” Lily paused to take a bite of the cobbler. While the other two prattled on, Rose busied herself helping Alf spoon up the cobbler lest he stain his overalls. Finally there was a lull in the conversation, and Lily softly called her name.
    Rose looked up, noting the perplexed expression on her sister’s face. “You’re awfully quiet today,” Lily observed.
    “I don’t mean to be rude. I’m merely preoccupied.”
    “About tomorrow’s time with Aunt Lavinia, perhaps?”
    Rose sighed. “How did you hear about that?”
    “Lavinia told Caleb when he came to town earlier in the week to help her with some house repairs.”
    Bess covered Rose’s hand with her own. “Dear, do share your concerns.”
    Looking from Bess to Lily and noting the affection in their eyes, Rose decided to unburden herself. She told them about the sheriff’s visit and her fears concerning Lavinia’s reaction to her taking Alf in and to the reality of his parentage. She explained that it was difficult enough to feel socially awkward around her aunt without also running the risk of being morally judged.
    When she finished, Bess patted her hand and said, “Best not to borrow trouble. Wait to see what your aunt wants. How she will react.”
    Lily leaned forward. “Aunt Lavinia can appear unapproachable, Rose, but I think she’s searching for a new way to be. However, we can’t expect her to change overnight. As hard as it is, I believe we are called to love her through her grief and transition.”
    Spontaneously, the haunting words of the hymn once again sprang to mind—“the wideness of God’s mercy.” Rose nodded her head, then addressed her friend and her sister. “Perhaps I have overly focused on my own problems and needs. Thank you for reminding me not to fear censure or to judge another prematurely.”
    Lily opened her mouth to say, “All things in—”
    “—God’s time,” Rose finished, and the two broke into laughter, remembering the many occasions when they had invoked their mother’s words.
    * * *
    Walking toward Lavinia’s home the next morning, Rose felt her courage waning. She had scoured her wardrobe for a suitable dress, finally settling on a full gray skirt and white waist trimmed with lace. At her neck she wore her