Page 23 of Mail Order Mother-in-law

“It’s always been my favorite time of year,” Caroline said, a big smile on her face. “Heather and I would always do the harvesting together, and then we’d put up whatever we could. Some of my favorite memories are Heather and I working hard together to make sure the food was going to stay good for the winter.”

Heather knew her mother had never once helped with any kind of harvest or canning. She had no idea what her mother was doing there with all her lies, but she wanted to find out.

“It’s so nice you two have those memories together. I lost my only daughter when she was a few days old, and I would have loved to have shared memories like that with her.”

Heather counted to ten under her breath, carefully going on with her task.

By the time Patrick was home that evening, they’d put up twenty-five jars of blackberry jam. “I think this is the best batch I’ve ever made,” Sally said with a smile. “I’ll have to make sure to take a couple of jars to Pastor Scott. He does love jam, and his wife is getting too old to be able to do her share of canning.”

“Their children don’t help?” Heather asked, surprised.

Sally nodded. “Each of their children gives them part of their harvest. They end up with jars and jars of food in their cellar by the end of October every year. What I love about it though is that the Pastor always tells me my blackberry jam is his favorite. So, I keep taking him some every year.”

Heather smiled. “I think that’s very sweet. Pastor Scott and Mrs. Scott seem like such good people.”

“You should hear the stories Hannah Scott tells of her trip on the Oregon Trail. It’s amazing what she went through to become the pastor’s wife for this little town.” Sally pulled a roast from the oven and set it on a hot pad on the table at the back of the kitchen.

Patrick popped his head into the kitchen, frowning when he saw that Caroline was still there. “No food?” he asked.

“The roast is done, but we need to make the potatoes yet,” Heather said. “Or we could just make a gravy and have roast beef sandwiches with gravy.”

Patrick nodded. “That’s faster?”

“Yes, it is.” Heather felt badly his food wasn’t ready.

“Then let’s do that.”

Heather immediately skimmed some of the drippings from the pot roasts they’d made and filled a jar they hadn’t used. Then she went to the stove and made the gravy, adding in the drippings. It was how her grandmother had taught her to make gravy when she was just a girl, and she found that Patrick loved her gravy.

As soon as it was done, she filled a bowl with the hot gravy and moved the meat onto a platter, while Sally and her mother continued to take the jars of jam into the cellar for later use.

Patrick kept watching her with an odd look on his face, as if he was trying to figure out what was really happening with her mother there. She quickly set the table and then sat down at Patrick’s side, whispering as fast as she could.

“I don’t know why she’s here. And she’s pretending to be someone who cooks and cleans. I’ve never seen her do either of those things. She made us eggs for every meal because it was all she knew how to make. I’ve been cooking for my family since I was ten.”

Patrick nodded, though he seemed confused. “But why did she come all this way then? What good does it do her?”

“I have no idea. But the person who has been helping us make jam all day is not my mother. It looks like her, but it can’t be.” Heather felt as if she had to explain everything all at once. “I know it looks as if I lied to you, but I didn’t. Mother was pretending to be on her death bed when I left Beckham.”

Her mother and Sally walked into the dining room then, each of them taking a seat at the table. “I had so much fun helping put the jam up today,” Caroline said. “What can I help with tomorrow?”

Sally smiled. “Tomorrow we’re going to be harvesting potatoes all day. It’s the hardest part of our harvest because we must dig for them, but it’s so worth it. You’re welcome to come and help.”

“That sounds lovely. Anything I can do to help you and spend time with my daughter.”

When Patrick said the prayer, Heather added her own prayer that her mother would stop lying. She was afraid there would be marital problems if her mother didn’t own up to the truth.

While they ate, Caroline told a story about picking strawberries with Heather one spring. As Heather listened, she realized that her mother was telling a story of her picking strawberries with her grandmother.

“And then we spent a whole day making jam and canning it for the winter. I think Heather asked for jam on her toast every morning that whole year.” Caroline smiled at her daughter lovingly.

Heather didn’t contradict her, though she had to wonder why her mother replaced her grandmother in her stories. It seemed as if there may be something wrong with her mother after all, but it wasn’t physical. No, her mother was losing her mind.

As soon as they were finished eating, Heather cleared the table while Sally boiled the water to do dishes.

Patrick looked at Caroline. “I’ll take you to the boarding house. There’s one for ladies and one for men.”

“I’d appreciate that. I’m excited to get to know people in your little town.”

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