Anne Mateer > Quotes

“But perhaps understanding didn’t matter as much as I imagined. Perhaps that was the true definition of faith.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I’ve often had to stand on the firm ground of my convictions when others thought I ought to be doing differently.”
― Anne Mateer, Playing by Heart

“Keep on. God gives us dreams of what our lives will be, but He doesn’t guarantee them. Just asks us to trust Him with the changes.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“It isn't just people in faraway places that need your compassion and your help. Sometimes it's those right where you are.”
― Anne Mateer, At Every Turn

“I know it because the sun comes up every morning, no matter what. And the rain falls on the crops. And babies are born. I know it because even when death comes, we go on living.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I can't get those kids out of my head. I see their little faces, and I know I have to help them." I raised up and looked him straight in the eye. "I have to do this. It's more than just wanting to be part of God's work in this world. It's an aching hole in my heart. I don't know any other way to fill it.”
― Anne Mateer, At Every Turn

“I turned to find Frank standing behind me, his eyes also fixed on the ticket. And it seemed from that moment on I couldn’t get him out from underfoot.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I dropped to my knees beside him. His eyes fluttered open, head looked to one side. “Go.”
At least that was what it looked like he’d said. I heard nothing but the whine of engines circling the track.
Then his eyes drifted shut.”
― Anne Mateer

“Poverty doesn't make parents unfit any more than wealth deems them appropriate.”
― Anne Mateer, A Home for My Heart

“May I speak with you for a minute, Frank?” He stopped working. “James, Dan. Keep Janie out of trouble.” “Yes, sir.” Both boys gave a salute. Frank’s long legs consumed the expanse, and he met me in the bright sunlight. We rounded the corner of the barn and moved away from its wall, closer to the pigpen. “Is there a problem?” He bent slightly, resting his arms on the top of the rail fence surrounding the sty, one foot propped up on the lower slat. I picked at the jagged edge of a fingernail and cleared my throat. “I’m going home.” “I know.” He looked almost . . . stricken. But it passed. Worried about not having made arrangement yet for the children, I imagined. He cleared his throat, kicked at a clod of dirt. “At the end of the month.” “This morning, actually. I have my train ticket.” Only his jaw moved, the muscle tightening and loosening and tightening again. I paced behind him, reached the other side of the small enclosure, chewed my lip, waited for him to say something. Anything. But the silence closed in around me. I had to get free of it. “I’ve been here long enough. I know that now. You need to be with your family, Frank. You need to sleep in your own bed, be among your own things. The children are comfortable with you again. Besides”—I grabbed the top rail of the pen to hold me steady—“I have my own life to live.” I stared off into the distance, hoping he thought I gazed happily into the life I desired. The quiet boiled between us until his words spat out like a flash of lightning. “Just like that, you’d abandon us?” I whirled to face him. “Just a few days earlier than you promised to send me home, remember?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his overalls and looked me over as if I were a possum in the bedroom. “They’ve lost their mother. And Adabelle. Now they’ll lose you, too. You don’t think they’ll feel that?” I shook my head, my heart breaking into tiny shards. “They’re young. They’ll take to whoever you bring in as quickly as they took to me.” His face reddened. He stalked toward the barn, then turned and came back, pointing his finger in my face. “Let’s get this straight. I’ve not asked you to leave. You’ve taken this on yourself.” “It’s for the best, Frank. It really is. But . . .” I hesitated. The intensity of his anger made me unsure of my final request. My voice shrank to nearly a whisper. “Will you tell them for me?” His eyebrows arched. He threw back his head and belched a derisive laugh. “You want to leave? Fine. I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to be the one to tell them. You are.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Then Janie’s baby voice rose above the din. “Ma-ma!” My steps halted. So did my heart. The plaintive cry filled every crevice of my being. “Ma-ma!” The caterwauling ceased. I turned. Ollie’s horror-stricken face told me I’d heard right. Gripping the handle of my suitcase and clenching my teeth, I tried to hold in my own keening. Janie dropped to her pudgy knees in the middle of the road. “Ma-ma!” She fell on her face in the dirt and sobbed. My gaze rose past her to Frank, who stood at the top of the steps. His horror seemed to mirror my own. I’d thought by leaving I’d alleviate his suffering, but it seemed I’d only deepened it. He made his way across the yard, his eyes fixed on mine. He passed his frozen children as if they were merely trees in a human forest and stopped in front of me, so close I could smell Ol’ Bob on his shirt. I tilted my head back, looked into his face. My heart bumped against my chest, though I’d felt sure it had stopped beating altogether. His arms reached for me, then fell back to his side. “Please, Rebekah. Please stay. They need you. I told you that.” “I can’t.” My vision blurred as I shook my head. His thumb caught a tear on my cheek, wiped it dry. I glanced at Janie, still lying heartbroken in the dirt. I ached to go to her, but I didn’t want to make things worse. Ollie seemed to read my thoughts. She picked up her sister, but her attention remained on me. I looked back at Frank. “Can’t you see? I’m giving you your life back. Your whole life. Your house. Your family.” I tasted the salt of my tears. He grabbed my shoulders. “But don’t you understand, Rebekah? I can’t have my whole life back. When I left for the war, I knew nothing would ever be the same. And it isn’t. Clara is gone. I have to make a new life now.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And I want to make it with you.” “Me? Are you saying . . . ” I held my breath, holding the words inside me, afraid they’d meet the air and burst like a soap bubble. His lips curled into a smile that chased every trace of gray from his eyes. “Marry me?”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Prove you have it in you to live your convictions without resentment to those who don't understand or agree.”
― Anne Mateer, Playing by Heart

“Are you fighting off beaus with a stick?” Will asked, bouncing Janie on his knee. I winced as his words unknowingly probed my wound. “No.” “That’s not what I hear.” My head whipped around. “What kind of ‘beaus’ do you think I have? I’m here with these children all the day long.” “And a fine mess you’re making of it, too.” His eyes twinkled and teased. I wanted to hit him over the head with my rolling pin. “So, you’re getting married soon? Do tell.” I slammed the rolling pin on the pie dough. “Did Mama tell you that?” “Yes. She seemed to think it a sure thing. Some junior ace from around here, or something. Of course, she hasn’t given up on ‘dear Mr. Graves,’ either.” “I’m not marrying either one of them.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“What have we here?” Frank lifted his daughter high in the air. Her laughter cackled through the clear air, twisting my heart. If Frank didn’t want me, I wouldn’t have these children, either. I thrust my bucket into the space between us, lemonade sloshing onto the dirt beneath. “I thought you’d all like something cool to drink.” He set Janie on his shoulders, letting her pound his hat farther down on his head. I handed him the dipper. He drank, eyes widening. Then he handed a half-full ladle to James. “Lemonade. Boy howdy, does it taste good!” The boys slurped down their share, as did Janie. When my bucket grew light, I reached for Janie’s tiny hand. “We best get back and get dinner ready.” Frank nodded—that lopsided, little-boy grin never leaving his face. I bit my lip and stared at the dirt, begging my heart to be still, to be reasonable, to understand that I couldn’t want him, couldn’t want this. But like an unruly child, it refused to obey. And like an exasperated mother, my irritation flowered into anger.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Who’s this?” Mama’s voice, barely more than a whisper. Frank’s features turned hard, as if carved from stone. “Frank Gresham.” He glanced at me, then back to Mama. “I assume you are Mrs. Hendricks?” Mama turned fiery eyes in my direction. “I see you know who I am, but I haven’t been given the same consideration.” I backed away, not wanting to be caught in the middle of the twister I’d created. “Ahhhhh!” Hot metal seared my skin. I grabbed my hand, doubled over. Mama and Frank beside me, one voice in each ear, pain blinding my sight. “Margaret? Rebekah?” Daddy. I felt Mama and Frank move back. Daddy led me to the table as my scream drifted away. “We’ll need eggs and some clean cotton.” Mama taking charge, as usual. “I have butter and flour right here.” Frank. “We aren’t making a cake; we’re dressing a burn.” “I realize that. Butter, then flour. My mother swore by it.” “It really hurts.” I leaned my head into Daddy’s shoulder. “I know, baby. Let me see.” He eased open my hand and studied the raised red splotch on my palm. Frank arrived at the table first. He cradled my hand in his. I whimpered. “Hush now.” A gentle whisper. “Let me do that.” Mama pressed her fingers into the pristine “G” atop the newly pressed butter and lathered it on my skin. “Go on now. Let me do my work.” Mama scooted beside me. Daddy led Frank from the room as Mama wrapped a clean rag around my greasy hand and tied the ends together. “Thank you, Mama.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“She needs time to recover, body and soul.” I nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.” His moustache twitched. “And what about the others that need yer care?” “Frank can handle them.” “He’s who I was meanin’. He’s walking on the edge of illness himself, what with nursing ye and Ollie both.” “Nursing us . . . both?” His bushy eyebrows inched up and down like caterpillars across a sidewalk. “Aye, girl. Didn’t ye know?” “But Sheriff Jeffries . . .” The fog in my brain vaguely remembered Frank by my bed, soothing words, gentle hands. But hadn’t I dreamed that? Doc shook his head. “Sheriff didn’t come until the last. He took the little ones to the Crenshaws’, but he had other things to tend.” My mouth gaped as my head whirled in confusion. Frank took care of me? Me and Ollie? “But he . . . How could he manage us both?” “Blamed if I know. But he did. Better than most, I might add. Went without sleep. Without food.” Doc shook his head. “Couldn’t bear to lose ye, either one.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Frank looks good.” Irene’s voice at my ear. “When did he get home?” “Yesterday.” “And?” I glanced at the sheriff, who still hovered beside me. I forced a smile to my face. “Everything’s fine. We’ll get things figured out soon. He was exhausted last night. We all went to bed early.” Blood rushed into my face. “Of course he slept in the barn, and . . .” Irene’s head tipped back as she laughed. Sheriff Jeffries’s mouth twisted into a scowl. From across the yard, Frank’s gaze locked on mine. He raised his eyebrows and nodded toward the buggy. “Good-bye, Irene.” I gave her a quick hug, wondering if I would see her again before Frank sent me home. Then I turned to the sheriff. Instead of a good-bye, he held his elbow crooked in my direction. “I’d be happy to escort you to the house.” Sheriff Jeffries’s eyes begged me to say yes. And I knew I ought to oblige. But I found myself wanting to be with my kids again. I didn’t know how much longer I’d have with them. I didn’t want to miss a moment. My mind whirled like the sheriff’s hat. “Thank you, I . . .” Frank had the older kids in the buggy now. He turned toward me with a look of expectancy. “I think I’d better help with the children.” His smile faded a bit, although he seemed to work to make it stay. He walked me to the buggy as if my words hadn’t disappointed him and helped me up to the seat. “Good to have you back, Frank.” Frank nodded. The sheriff touched the brim of his hat and backed away, his gaze undistracted from my face. But Frank’s hard-set jaw and narrowed eyes broke into my line of vision as he plopped Janie in my lap. “If you’re done socializing, we can get on home.” He stalked to the other side of the buggy and hopped up on the seat. I stared at his profile, that rugged face on which I’d seen such vulnerable emotions. But I’d also seen his look of disapproval in church. Now he appeared haughty, almost condescending. My eyes narrowed. What cause did he have to chastise me?”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Then a hand raised in the distance. I stood, eager to see the face. The crowd parted. Sheriff Jeffries’s broad grin met my gaze. I sat back down on the wooden seat. What would he think of me for leaving the children and traveling on my own to Dallas? My head turned this way and that, seeking escape. Then he stood before me and I had no choice but to acknowledge him. “Imagine meeting you here.” I tapped my foot on the plank beneath my feet. “Great, isn’t it?” He lifted his face to the sky until his neck stretched long. “Amazing what those boys can do.” As I nodded, two men in uniform closed the distance behind him. Two familiar men. My heart seemed to stand still. Arthur. His uniform accentuated his leanness. Had he lost weight since he’d arrived here? Had he been ill and not told me? I searched his face for any signs of weariness, but he looked as hale and hearty as always. I popped up from my seat, my coat and purse filling my hands, my feet stumbling out of the stands until I stood on solid ground. He stopped just beyond my reach. I wanted to throw myself in his arms, but in spite of all my bold actions of the day, I couldn’t quite forget myself to that extent. “Rebekah.” Arthur’s eyes didn’t light on mine. His gaze darted to the ground, the sky, beside me, behind me, refusing to land on anything for more than an instant. I stepped forward. “Arthur, darling.” Sheriff Jeffries’s mouth hung open. And of course his hat twirled around and around and around in his fingers. Arthur glanced at Captain Denton. “Ah. I guess we’d better be going now.” Captain Denton turned to the sheriff. “Let me show you the electric lights that will come on after dark.” Captain Denton dragged the sheriff away—but not before Sheriff Jeffries gave Arthur a long, hard look.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Miss Hendricks, I received word of Adabelle Williams’s passing on to glory and of you staying on with my children. I know they are not your responsibility, but from what I hear, you weren’t given much choice. Thank you for your Christian kindness in helping those in need. Tell Ollie Elizabeth I’m depending on her. Keep the boys in line with a switch if you have to. Please let me know how they are doing. It seems so unfair for them to lose both their mother and their Miss Ada without their father to comfort them. Yet I must believe God knows best even if it seems a hard thing. I don’t know how long you intend to stay, but if it could be until I return home, that would be greatly appreciated. If you need anything at all, ask George and Irene Latham. Sincerely, Frank Gresham”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Rebekah?” “Yes?” I turned back. Too eager? He led me away from the barn. “I went to town this afternoon.” I held my breath, his face hovering only inches above mine. “Mr. Crenshaw said you bought the children Christmas presents. On account.” I nodded, afraid to look into his eyes lest their blue turn stormy gray. He settled his hands on his hips, exasperated-like. “Why in the world didn’t you just pay cash?” I picked at a crust of teacake on the skirt of my dress. “Because there wasn’t any to pay with. No cash in your letters. None in the house. None in the bank.” I raised my eyes to his, not caring what I’d see. “What would you have had me do? Let them think Santa Claus forgot them?” Of course there was the two dollars wasted in Dallas, but irritation hid my embarrassment. Daddy would repay Frank his precious money if I asked him to. I glared up at him, expecting wrath. But something new crossed his face. Surprise? Admiration? His laugh started low and worked itself into a regular guffaw. Heat crawled up my face as he shook his head and wiped his eyes. “I heard about your visit to the bank. You certainly have gumption.” “Is that . . . a good thing?” He blinked surprise. Then a smile started on his lips and ended in his eyes. “Why, yes, I guess it is.” I couldn’t hold back my grin, so I studied the ground. “Don’t worry.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t move away. “I covered it all with Mr. Crenshaw today. I guess Adabelle didn’t tell you about the tin box under the floorboard in the bedroom.” Relief washed over me. Money had been there all along.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Be good for Nola Jean and Mrs. Latham, now.” James’s bottom lip trembled. Dan nodded and stuck his thumb in his mouth. I laid a hand on each boy’s cheek. James leaned into my hand. “When are you coming back?” My throat tightened. Janie stretched her arms to me. I avoided her reach, kissed her head, and started for the door. Janie screamed and wriggled until Nola Jean let her down. Still wailing, she crawled after me, red-faced but without tears. She gulped air, screaming, then breathing, and screaming again. Ollie followed Janie onto the porch. I hurried toward the gate. Part of me wanted to run back and sweep that sweet baby into my arms. To hold on tight. But the greater part of me wanted to go. Now. I glanced up the road. Then I looked back at Ollie and Janie—and James and Dan, who now stood on the porch, as well, their expressions of bewilderment jabbing my already tortured soul. If I could take care of them, anybody could, I told myself. Nola Jean would do just fine. I forced myself forward. Janie shrieked again. I closed my eyes and ran.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“What are you thinking?” Frank’s words came so soft I wasn’t sure I’d heard them. I tried to smile, to break the sorrow that stretched between us. “Thinking about Mama. And Will. And Adabelle.” Clara’s unspoken name shouted itself into the silence. My eyes sought his face. “Irene won’t die, too, will she?” “We can pray.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Thought you might like some help around here.” The children raced down the porch steps. Sheriff Jeffries swung Dan up in the air, but his eyes never left my face. I bit my lip and concentrated on Janie as she painted the shoulder of my clean blouse with her half-gnawed teacake. I sighed. Maybe I could make myself a bigger apron. I switched Janie from one hip to the other. In spite of my worry over Arthur and Mama, the sight of the sheriff set me in a more playful mood. “Do we need help?” I hollered. “Well, let me see. I don’t know as we have any lawbreakers to be hauled off to jail. You boys seen any outlaws?” Dan and James giggled, and the sheriff grinned as he swiped his hat from his head and twirled it round and round his fingers. “Figured you might like a break from farm chores. I don’t imagine it’s easy for a slip of a girl like you to take care of it all.” I pulled my shoulders back and lifted my chin, my good humor retreating a bit. “I do just fine, thank you.” He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. Just bein’ neighborly.” I studied his eager eyes, trying to decide if I should be offended or flattered. But unlike Mama, I never could stay offended long. I threw him a grin. “You do the rest of my barnyard work, and I promise a filling dinner in return.” “My pleasure.” He bowed at the waist and slapped his hat on his head. Now it was my turn to blush. Help sounded wonderful, as did company, but did I sense something more in his manner? I ought to turn the conversation to Arthur during dinner. That would make it clear that my future was spoken for.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I bet I could get him with Daddy’s gun.” He looked up at me with the most serious expression I’d ever seen. As if he were fifteen, not six. My mouth twitched, but I determined not to laugh. “You know you’re not allowed to touch Daddy’s gun,” Ollie’s half-asleep voice called from the parlor. I put on my stern face. “Yes. I’m sure you know that, James.” His whole body sagged in defeat as he turned and stomped away. “She said no,” I heard him say from the kitchen. A smile twitched at my lips. “Rats,” came the younger voice, followed by the muffled thud of two bottoms hitting the floor. A giggle escaped me. I imagined their little faces full of disappointment over not getting to take their daddy’s gun after the nasty creature. I clamped my hand over my mouth until my stomach hurt from holding it in.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Slow down.” Sheriff Jeffries put a hand on the steering wheel. “I can do it.” I yanked in the opposite direction. White pickets glowing beneath the full moon appeared closer and larger. My foot missed the brake. Wood splintered. A headlamp went dark. The engine died without a sputter. Sheriff Jeffries practically sat in the same seat with me now, his foot hard on the brake. I looked up. A shadowy figure rose from a chair on the porch and walked toward us. Frank. I pushed open my door and stood on shaky legs, straightening my hat. The sheriff inspected his car. Frank kept his eyes on me. I refused to turn from his reproachful gaze. “I’m so sorry, Sheriff. I hope I didn’t hurt anything.” “Only my fence,” Frank grumbled. I gave him my most coquettish smile. “Nothing that can’t be repaired, right?” The sheriff cleared his throat. I turned to him. “I do thank you for the ride.” When did I start sounding so much like Mama? “My . . . pleasure. I’ll see you on Sunday?” I looked to Frank, then back to the sheriff. “Of course. And I am sorry about your car.” “No harm done. At least, not much.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“Who’s that?” James whispered next to my ear. I looked. Only a shadow of a figure really, far away down the road. I closed my eyes again. “Daddy!” Ollie’s shriek lifted me from my seat. She left her rope and bounded down the road. I clutched the porch post as I watched the man’s bag fall to the ground. He ran to meet her, swinging her up into his arms and holding her close. James rushed down the steps and then stopped, turned back to me. “Go on.” I shooed him away, as if it didn’t matter. In truth, my stomach clenched.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“When did you get home? And why didn’t anyone tell me?” I hooked my arm around my brother’s. It felt small and frail, as if my touch might break it. My stomach soured. “I was already on my way home when the armistice was announced.” I stopped, forcing him to stop, too. “Why, Will?” He stared off into the distance, his eyes narrowing as if he could see all the way to France. “I’m dying, Rebekah. They let me come home to die.” I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Was my heart still beating? Breath and motion returned with a wave of nausea, but before I could ask more questions, Will’s mouth lifted in a sad smile.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I came to see if we had any chance of starting over.” I flinched and caught my breath, his audacity slapping me with the force of an open hand. “Start over?” I felt Mama’s face fit over mine like a mask. That haughty look she reserved for those who addressed her in a manner less than respectful. “A fiancée ends things quite thoroughly.” And yet my heart lurched at the thought that he wanted me again. He leaned back in his chair, a tad more confident, it seemed. More like the Arthur I’d fallen in love with. “She and I were thrown together during the quarantine. It wasn’t like I went looking for another woman.” He shrugged. “Besides, with the war over, I’ll be discharged. We can be together much sooner than we thought possible.” “Be together? As in, get married?” Something in his manner alarmed me. I wasn’t sure what. The return of his arrogance, perhaps? Again his gaze skittered away. “Eventually.” The word barbed at my heart. “But you were going to marry her right away, weren’t you? You told me you were engaged.” He stared at the door that led outside. “She didn’t have any reason to wait. You have—” He swatted his hand toward the front of the house, where the children remained quiet. I stiffened. “I have responsibilities at the moment, yes.” “We’d have to wait, then. Until you get rid of them.” My eyebrows lifted. “Get rid of them? What do you mean? Are you saying you don’t want children? Or that you don’t want these children?” “We have our own life to lead, Rebekah. Children would . . . complicate things. Their daddy will be home soon, right? And then you’ll be free. Besides, I don’t remember you being eager for babies before.” I chewed the edge of my fingernail as I considered how to reply. “You’re right. I wasn’t. But things have changed. My mother has been ill. My brother is dying. I haven’t heard back from Fra—the children’s father. But it’s more than that.” My mouth proclaimed words I hadn’t even thought through completely, words that popped from the soil of my heart like green beans on a hot summer day. His mouth opened and shut, smooth words slithering from his grasp. That handsome face. Those deep blue eyes. They’d roped me in like a naïve calf. But I wasn’t as childlike as I’d once been.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“A throat cleared behind us. We both turned. Sheriff Jeffries’s fingers fidgeted with his hat. He nodded at Mrs. Latham, and then his gaze locked on me. “Would you care to take a walk before the evening service, Rebekah?” I looked past him, toward the group of children playing tag, then to the babies, Janie included, asleep on a blanket in the shade under the watchful eye of a gray-haired lady. “I think I’d better stay near. For the children.” “Of course. The children.” A faint blush spread across his cheeks, as if he’d forgotten my purpose here. “Another time, then.” He settled his hat back on his head and strode away without giving me a chance to reply. I glanced at Mrs. Latham. My face heated at the merriment in her eyes.”
― Anne Mateer, Wings of a Dream

“I wanted to grab him by the collar and strangle him. Or kiss him. I wasn't sure which.”
― Anne Mateer, At Every Turn