Her Surprise Sister

If they’d been raised together, would they have dressed alike? Would they have had their own private jokes and secrets that no one else was allowed to know? Sorrow filled her. It was strange, to be mourning the loss of something she’d never had. Did Maddie feel the same, or didn’t it bother her?

The elevator doors swished open, and Violet’s stomach lurched. The hospital was nice enough, as hospitals went. She led the way down the long corridor toward her mom’s room. Bright, cheerful, with none of the antiseptic odors she remembered from a brief hospital stay when she was six.

Despite that, Violet’s spirits were dampened each time she came through the doors. No matter how cheerful she tried to be, just in case her mom was actually hearing her, fear hung on her like a wet, smothering blanket on a hot Texas day.

“It’s the next room down,” she said, and tried to pin a smile on her face when she saw the apprehension in Maddie’s eyes. “It’ll be all right. One of the nurses told me that coma patients can sometimes hear what’s said, even if they can’t respond. So she may know you’re here. Know we’ve found each other.”

“I hope so,” Maddie murmured, and Violet had the sense that she was praying silently. Whispering a prayer of her own, Violet squeezed her hand and walked with her into the room.

Sunlight streamed across the high hospital bed, and machines whirred softly. Belle was motionless, lying much as she had been when Violet left yesterday. A lifetime ago, it now seemed.

“Mom?” Violet covered her mother’s hand with hers. How odd it was to see Belle’s hands so still—she was always in motion, and even in conversation her hands would be moving.

No response, and Violet fought to keep that fact from sending her into a downward spiral.

“One day when I say that, you’re going to open your eyes and ask what I want.” She kept her voice light and gestured for Maddie to come closer.

Maddie’s face had paled, and tears glistened in her eyes. She seemed to be searching Belle’s features, maybe looking for herself there.

“I brought someone to see you, Mom. You’re going to be so surprised. It’s Maddie. Can you believe that? We’ve found each other, after all this time.” She gave her sister an encouraging smile. “Say something to her.”

“I’m so glad to see you.” Maddie’s voice wobbled a little on the words. “I didn’t know. I never guessed that my real mother was out there someplace. Not until I walked into a coffee shop in Fort Worth and saw Violet sitting there.”

Violet stroked her mother’s hand, willing her to hear. “We look exactly alike, Mom. Did you realize we would? I suppose we must have, even when we were babies.”

The enormity of the whole crazy situation struck Violet, and suddenly she couldn’t control her voice. She couldn’t keep pretending that this deception was okay.

“Why, Momma?” The words came out in a choked cry, in the voice of her childhood. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

But her mother didn’t answer. Maybe she never would. For the first time in Violet’s life she faced a problem without her mother to advise her. The loneliness seemed to sink into her very soul.

And then she felt an arm go around her. Maddie drew her close, her face wet with tears for the mother she’d never known. As they held each other and wept, Violet knew she’d been wrong. She wasn’t alone.

* * *

It was late afternoon when Violet finally got to Grasslands that day. She wouldn’t have bothered going to town after driving back from Amarillo, but she was responsible for the Colby Ranch Farm Stand, and she had to be sure things were going smoothly.

Maddie had opted to stay at the ranch rather than come into town with her, and Violet couldn’t help feeling a bit of relief at that decision. The two of them had attracted enough second glances in Amarillo, where no one knew them. Violet could just imagine the reaction in Grasslands, where every single soul could name her. She’d have to figure out how she was going to break the news to friends and neighbors, but at the moment, it was beyond her.

She hurried into the cinder block building on Main Street that housed the farm stand. The stand had grown and changed a lot since it had been nothing more than a stall along the side of the road. She liked to think she’d had something to do with that growth.

Jack had never shown an interest in the produce fields and the pecan grove, and his only reaction when assigned to weeding or planting duty had been a prolonged moan. Belle had never listened to that, and when they were growing up, they’d both learned how to do every chore that was suitable to their ages. It had been good training for the future.

Violet had never understood her brother’s distaste for farming. From the time she could trot after Ricardo, Lupita’s husband, she’d gone up and down the rows with him, learning where the soybeans grew best and which types of tomatoes to plant. She’d never been happier than when she had her hands in the dirt.

She took a glance at her short, unpolished nails as she pushed the door open and grimaced. That was certainly one way folks could tell her apart from Maddie, whose perfectly shaped nails were a deep shade of pink.

Violet stepped into the large, cool room that formed the main part of the building, with storage facilities and refrigerated lockers in the back room. This place was home to her, just as the ranch was. It might not be fancy, but it was the product of her hard work and vision.

“Violet!” The exclamation came before she was a step past the door, and Harriet Porter came rushing to give her a vigorous hug.

Harriet, tall and raw-boned, admitted to being over sixty, and most folks thought she was pretty far over, but age didn’t slow her down a bit. She could manage the farm stand with one hand tied behind her back.

“Honey, I’m so glad to see you. How’s your momma? Is there any change?”

Violet had to blink back a tear at the warmth of the welcome. “Not much change, I’m afraid. The doctors say she’s stable, but…” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture, not knowing any more positive way to say it.

“I’m sure sorry about that.” Harriet gripped her arm. “Belle’s a fighter, though. Don’t you forget. She’ll come out of this, you’ll see.”

Violet could only nod, because her throat was too tight for anything else.

“Mind, now.” Harriet shook her finger at Violet. “Don’t you let it get you down, y’hear? We grow strong women in Texas, and your momma is one of the best. I reckon the good Lord knows how much we need her here.”

Not as much as Violet needed her, but that went without saying.

“How have things been going? I’m sorry I haven’t checked in with you more often.”

“Honey, don’t you think a thing about it. You know I can deal with the stand for as long as you need. And the kids are doing fine.”

Harriet had a revolving procession of local teenagers who worked for the stand, carting produce and stocking bins. Harriet always referred to them collectively as “the kids,” but she took an interest in each one. They’d get the rough side of her tongue in a hurry if they didn’t pull their weight, but she was a staunch defender when any of them needed help.

“That’s good.” Violet was already sending an assessing gaze around the interior. It was nothing fancy, that was for sure, with concrete floors and cinder-block walls, the produce stacked on long tables or in bins. It was spotless as ever, but Violet noticed a few empty spaces on the tables. “No sweet corn?”

Harriet’s gaze grew dark. “That Tom Sandy tried to palm off corn that must have been picked two days ago on us. I told him what he could do with his stale corn. Why, the sugar would all be turned to starch in it by then. I’d rather do without than put that out. Our customers expect the best.”

True, but it really would be better if Harriet didn’t antagonize one of their suppliers. That had been a change Violet had implemented, buying from some other growers instead of selling only their own produce. It gave them a wider assortment of stock, but managing those growers was time-consuming, and it was a job only Violet could do.

“I’ll talk to Tom,” she promised. “Is anybody else giving you any problems?”

Harriet shook her head. “We sure could use more tomatoes, though. Folks keep asking, but with the weather, there just aren’t enough to be had.”

The weather was a constant worry. This year they’d had too much rain in the early spring, making it hard to get the plants in, followed by a prolonged hot, dry spell that had turned the soil to stone. The plants were looking better now, though, so they’d have plenty before long, she hoped.

“I’ll make some calls,” she said. “Try and find somebody who has them ripening now.”

“Just do it when you have time.” Harriet patted her arm. “I know it’s rough, running back and forth to Amarillo every day. At least you have Jack to help you.”

Violet managed a noncommittal smile at the reference to her brother. If he had any sense, Jack would get himself back here before folks noticed he was gone.

She was saved the task of responding by the approach of Jeb Miller. Despite Jeb’s youth, he’d won the hearts of most of Grasslands in the five years he’d been pastor at Grasslands Christian Church.

“Violet.” He grasped her hands in both of his. “I’m so glad to see you. I must have missed you when I went to the hospital yesterday.”

“Yes, I…I had some things I had to take care of.” Thankfully, Harriet had retired from earshot, probably thinking to give Violet some private time with her pastor, or she’d have been asking where Violet had been.

“I was sorry to see there was no change.” With his red hair, freckles and youthful grin Jeb might not be the classic image of a minister, but he had a warm voice that matched his warm heart. “I prayed with Belle, and I trust she was able to hear and be comforted.”

“Thanks, Jeb. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”