Roses for Mama by Janette Oke Read Free Book Online

Remember? And then she said, ‘Oh, look. You have all chosen a happy face. I guess everyone prefers a face that is happy. No one wants the sad or angry face. Let’s change the rest.’ And she did. Then she let us eat them.”
    Angela nodded. Her mama had been so skillful at getting across simple lessons. If only Angela knew how to do it.
    “And remember the time she walked with us to the creek to show us—”
    “Mama walked?” cut in Sara, her eyes big with wonder.
    Both Angela and Thomas turned to look at her.
    “What do you mean?” asked Angela.
    “I didn’t know Mama could walk.”
    “Of course she could walk.”
    “All I ’member is her being in bed or sometimes in a chair,” continued Sara.
    Tears came to Angela’s eyes. She had worried that the younger children were forgetting their mother—had not had as many years to glean memories as she and Thomas had enjoyed. But she had not realized just how much they had been denied.
    “You don’t remember?” she asked.
    Sara answered by shaking her head.
    “You don’t remember having Mama in the kitchen fixing afterschool snacks? You don’t remember the walks through her garden? You don’t remember taking her hand to see the new calf?”
    With each question Sara continued shaking her head.
    “I remember a little bit,” broke in Louise. “I remember the color of her hair. I even remember Papa calling it ‘spun gold.’ I remember her apron with the big pockets. And I remember one time when I scratched my knee and she fixed it—then she rocked me and sang me a song—about little birdies or something. I forget that part.”
    Angela was disturbed that her sisters had so few memories of their wonderful mother. No wonder it was so difficult for her to pass along to them all the lessons of proper conduct and correct attitudes. There was no base there, built solidly by their mama.
    “Do you remember Mama?” Angela asked, turning to look at Derek. The boy did not lift his eyes from his plate but nodded slightly. Angela saw him swallow. Her eyes misted as she wondered just what memories Derek had tucked away in his heart.
    Angela blinked away the tears and responded quickly lest her emotions would overcome her, “Well, it is important for each of us to remember Mama and Papa. If you don’t remember much about them, Thomas and I—and Derek—are going to have to share our memories. From now on we’ll play a little game and the three of us will share memories about what they did—what they said—what they were like—so all of us will know them and have memories.”
    Sara clapped her hands, her eyes shining. She approved of the game. Louise nodded her head.
    “Thomas, you start,” Angela encouraged.
    “Well, let’s see. Where do I start? There are so many things.”
    “Wait,” said Angela, jumping up from the table. “Let’s write down each one—then we won’t be getting mixed-up and telling the same ones over and over. And later we can read them.”
    Angela returned with a sheet of paper and a pencil.
    “The next time I’m in town I’ll buy a proper book. For now this will do.”
    “Let’s call it our Memory Book,” put in Sara excitedly.
    “And we could divide it into how they looked, what they did, and what they said,” Louise offered, adding, “That way, Sara and I will get to say something, too.”
    “Great idea,” Angela agreed. “Instead of Thomas going first, you start, Sara.”
    Sara puckered her brow and thought deeply. “Well,” she said at last, “I ’member Mama in her bed with a blue blanket tucked up close around her chin. I thought she was sleeping, but when I tiptoed in she reached out her hand to me—and smiled.”
    Angela swallowed the lump in her throat. She knew from Sara’s account that the incident had happened shortly before their mother left them. Angela wrote quickly, for she knew Louise was anxious for her turn.
    “I remember,” began Louise, “Mama sitting in her chair, by the fireplace. And she