UNBROKEN PROMISE

~22~ It's Not Your Fault

Oma sat in the dining room, her hands folded tightly on the table as her shoulders shook with quiet sobs. Caleb played on the floor nearby, his little hands clumsily stacking wooden blocks into a teetering tower. The boy was lost in his own world of giggles and babble, blissfully unaware of the heaviness in the room.

Oma tried to hold back the tears, but the weight of the day pressed down on her, making it impossible. She had replayed the scene with Miss Walters over and over in her mind—the cruel words, the humiliation, the way Megan had jumped to her defense. And now Megan was in trouble with Jacob, and it was all because of her.

The sound of the front door opening broke her out of her spiraling thoughts. She wiped at her cheeks quickly, trying to compose herself as Mama Becca stepped into the house. The older woman’s sharp eyes immediately took in the scene—Oma’s red-rimmed eyes, the tension in her shoulders, and the way she avoided meeting her gaze. Caleb’s laughter filled the silence, but Mama Becca didn’t let it distract her.

“Child,” Mama Becca said softly, stepping closer and setting her basket down on the counter. “What’s got you cryin’ like this?”

Oma shook her head, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing,” she whispered, though her voice cracked, betraying her.

Mama Becca’s brow furrowed as she pulled out a chair and sat beside her at the table. She reached out, resting a warm, steady hand on Oma’s trembling fingers. “Now, you know better than to try and keep somethin’ from me,” she said firmly, though her voice was still gentle. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The kindness in her tone broke the fragile dam Oma had built around her emotions. She let out a shaky breath, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks as she covered her face with her hands. “It’s my fault,” she choked out between sobs. “Megan... she’s in trouble because of me.”

Mama Becca’s expression softened, and she pulled her chair closer, her hands resting lightly on Oma’s shoulders. “What happened, darlin’? Tell me from the start.”

Oma sniffled, taking a moment to gather herself before she began to speak. “We were at the bazaar,” she said, her voice trembling. “Everything was going fine, but then this... this woman—Miss Walters—she came by the stall we were at. She... she said awful things to me.”

Mama Becca’s eyes narrowed slightly, her hand tightening on Oma’s shoulder. “What kind of things?”

Oma hesitated, the memory of Miss Walters’s words still fresh and painful. “She said... she said I was an abomination. That I’d always be a ‘brown baby.’” Her voice broke, and she wiped at her cheeks, struggling to get the words out. “She said I wasn’t good enough... that I didn’t belong.”

Mama Becca’s jaw clenched, her sharp eyes flashing with anger, but she stayed silent, letting Oma continue.

“Megan heard her,” Oma went on, her tears flowing freely now. “She stepped in and defended me. She said things back to the woman, but then Jacob came and stopped her. He wasn’t happy, and now... now she’s in trouble, and it’s all my fault.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she buried her face in her hands, her sobs shaking her small frame. Caleb, sensing the tension, looked up from his toys, his wide eyes darting between Oma and Mama Becca. He didn’t say anything, but his little hands clutched a wooden block tightly, as if trying to figure out what to do.

Mama Becca let out a long sigh, her heart aching at the sight of Oma’s distress. She reached out, wrapping her arms around the younger woman and pulling her into a warm, steady embrace. “Hush now, child,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “It ain’t your fault. Not a bit of it.”