Love Is . . .

Chapter 26

           We pull up to a large, old, white two-story farmhouse complete with a wraparound porch and a huge red barn in the rear. As Graham parks his truck in front of the house, an elderly woman with white hair pulled into a low bun walks out onto the porch. She's drying her hands with a dish towel, then gives a big smile and a wave. I gingerly hop out of the truck and return a small wave of my own. I turn to grab my bag and see that Graham has already done so. He walks over to who has to be Ms. Mae and gives her a kiss on the forehead. She smiles up at him with a motherly love in her eyes.

"This is Abby," he says as he opens his arm out toward me, "and Abby, this is Ms. Mae."

"It's so nice to meet you, dear. It will be a blessing to have another female at the farm," she says with a pointed look at Graham, who makes a face like he is offended. I give a small laugh and begin to thank her for taking me in.

"Nonsense, you're doing me the favor. How I have longed to hear the pitter-patter of little feet again." She then gives Graham another pointed look. He clears his throat and comments how hot it's getting and that we better get me inside. Ms. Mae takes the hint and ushers us in with promises of a tall glass of ice tea.

         After tea and chicken salad sandwiches, Ms. Mae gives me the grand tour of the house ending in my room. It's comfy with a large cast iron bed that has a beautiful handmade quilt. The room has its own adjoining little bathroom that she has already set up with toiletries. I start to tear up at the kindness.

"Oh sweetheart, there, there." And the next thing I know, I'm embraced in a hug from Ms. Mae. A weight is lifted from me, and I suddenly feel so weary from the carrying of it. As if reading my thoughts, Ms. Mae suggests that I take a nap. She says she will wake me at five, and dinner will be at six. After that, we can discuss the rules she says with a kind smile.

          True to her word, she wakes me from a deep sleep at five o'clock and tells me to feel free to freshen up before coming down to eat. I take a nice warm soak in the claw foot tub, pampering myself with the scented lavender bath salts that were in a nearby jar. I dress in comfy sweat pants and a tee shirt. My wardrobe is getting smaller as my abdomen is getting bigger. As I descend the stairs, the most mouthwatering aroma hits me, and, suddenly, I realize that I am starving. Ms. Mae has gone all out with a pot roast, cornbread, and a homemade apple pie for dessert. I'm surprised to see Graham is still here. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, so I had assumed that once he dropped off the unwed pregnant girl, he would have run for the hills, back to his own little sanctuary far from me and Ms. Mae's pointed looks. He looks up from setting the table and smiles at me.

"Don't get too used to this. We don't eat like this every night," he states.

"You live here too?" I ask.

"Not exactly, I have a little studio apartment of sorts a few hundred yards or so from the main house." He turns toward Ms. Mae and says, "She hasn't gotten rid of me yet." To that, she swats the air with a hand.

"Like I would ever want to get rid of you," she chastises.

       We sat down to eat a delicious meal. Ms. Mae goes over the contract as we finish up the pie and sip on decaf coffee. In exchange for room and board, I am to help out around the farm. She explains that exercise in moderation is good for pregnancy, and she will adjust my duties as needed the further along I get. She assures me of her competence as a midwife. Amazingly, she never asked me the dirty details of how I came to be in this condition, just if there was anyone that should be notified of where I am. I answer no, much to my shame. 

         She attends church and states that I am welcome to join her. I tell her I would like that, and she smiles warmly. She then orders Graham to help me wash the dishes while she gets ready for bed. Side by side, we are at the sink with me washing while he dries and puts them up.

"I can see why you would never want to leave," I say to break the silence.

"Yeah, she's pretty great, but I do have plans that will eventually take me far away from here," he states.

"How far is far?" I ask.

"My goal is to be a missionary, wherever that turns out to be. I've stayed here at the farm for somewhat selfish reasons. I mean, don't get me wrong, I have also stayed to help her, too, after Jack died, but also because it saved me a lot of money while I went to college. Driving back and forth wasn't cheap, but it was better than paying for a place to stay, and, not to forget, the home cooked meals," he jokes with a wink and a smile.

       I laugh and shake my head. We finish up the dishes in easy conversation. I let Graham do most of the talking, content to listen to all his hopes and dreams of doing something good with his life, wanting to make an impact for God. He amazes me and makes me admit to myself how self-centered and small-minded I have been all my life. Choosing this baby is my first selfless act. We tell each other goodnight at the back door, and I watch him jog across the yard to his apartment. I think there will be a lot that I can learn from this place, and I am so grateful that God had Mr. Graham Michaels in that diner the other night.