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M any years later, Mrs . Jackson approached Jane sitting on the weathered front steps of the ranch house.
“Land sakes, child,” Mrs. Jackson said, her eyes sparkling as she surveyed Jane. “You’ve grown up, and now you’re a mother to your own bustling brood.”
Jane looked up, her eyes reflecting the vast sky above. “Mrs. Jackson,” she said warmly, “I can hardly believe it myself.”
Mrs. Jackson chuckled softly. “My heart swells with joy every time I think about it. Even Cassandra has blessed me with a granddaughter.”
“Yes,” Jane agreed, smiling genuinely. “The Lord has been generous with his blessings.” She patted her burgeoning belly. “Number nine for me grows impatient to be born.”
“You’ve all grown into fine women,” Mrs. Jackson affirmed, “to say I’m proud of you would be a grave understatement.” Her gaze wandered over the land and distant mountains. They’d carved out a good life here, under God’s watchful eye and in each other’s loving company.
The amber glow of sunset bathed the Texas ranch as dishes piled high with food covered the long wooden table. Freshly baked bread and roasted meats’ aroma blended with laughter from children weaving between adults.
“Careful with the gravy, Lizzie!” Amy’s voice held amusement as she placed a bowl of steamed vegetables next to sliced beef.
Mrs. Jackson observed from her special seat, her eyes twinkling at the chaos before her. A plate filled generously with food was handed to her, and she nodded gratefully. “Thank you, my dear.”
During their meal, children gathered around Mrs. Jackson, sharing stories punctuated with giggles or wide-eyed expressions.
A little girl with wheat-colored braids approached hesitantly.
“Ma’am,” she said shyly, “Could we—could I call you Grandma Jackson? You feel just like a real grandma to all of us.”
Silence fell upon the gathering, all eyes on Mrs. Jackson. Her eyes glistened, and she embraced the young girl. “Child,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “there would be no greater honor.”
“Grandma Jackson,” the girl repeated and her smile brightened. The name echoed among them like a chorus of joyous acceptance.
The Texas sun dipped low on the horizon, bathing the bustling scene in a warm glow as Jane and her sisters gathered around Mrs. Jackson. The matriarch’s presence brought comfort amid the lively chaos of children and grandchildren filling the ranch.
“Mrs. Jackson,” Erna said, “we cannot express our gratitude for your blessing upon our journey here.”
“Indeed,” Hannah added, “your visit has filled our homes with joy.”
Each sister stepped forward, offering thanks with earnest hearts. Mrs. Jackson received their gratitude gracefully, clasping their hands.
As silence fell, she cleared her throat. “My dears, I have some news to share.”
Tension filled the air as children clung to their mothers.
“I have decided to retire from my duties at the foundling home,” she announced. Murmurs of surprise rippled through the group, exchanging concerned glances.
“However,” she added quickly, “I shall move into a modest abode on the Foundling Home’s property to live out my days.”
“Mrs. Jackson,” Jane said, stepping closer, “you’ve built a home within our hearts. And there, you shall forever stay.”
Jane and her sisters gathered around Mrs. Jackson, each offering their home to her.
“I cannot bear the thought of you living alone in that small house,” Amy insisted. “You must stay with my family and me instead. I can think of nothing greater than you teaching my children as you’ve taught me.”
“Our home has a spare room perfect for you,” Brenda argued.
“Think of the children who love your stories,” Cassandra softly pleaded. “We have an extra room for you.”
“Consider our garden. It would bring you joy,” Erna added. “I want your influence on my children.”
Jane gently interjected, “Why not share the blessing? Each of us could host you for a month at a time.” Her suggestion resonated among them like a harmonious hymn.
“And should you yearn for Massachusetts, return whenever you wish,” Jane said. “But you must promise to come back to us.”
Rotating through their homes seemed fitting—a testament to the family they’d become under her loving guidance: not by blood but by devotion and care.
The silence was broken as Mrs. Jackson lifted her handkerchief to her eyes. Worn from years of use, it now dabbed gently at the moisture in her eyes, the matriarch showing vulnerability.
“Land sakes,” she murmured, disbelief painting her features with humble astonishment.
“Mrs. Jackson,” Jane interjected earnestly. She rose—belly first—and brushed off her skirt. “You raised us not just with shelter and provisions but with genuine love that could warm even the coldest winter.”
The other women nodded, reflecting upon the countless acts of kindness they received.
“Your heart has been our sanctuary, and your wisdom, our guiding star,” Jane continued, gratitude in her gaze. “We stand here today because of you—strong, loving women who learned from the best. We’ll remain faithful to the woman who cherished us as her very own.”
The air seemed to hum with the truth of Jane’s words, and their bond with Mrs. Jackson felt unbreakable and eternal.
Jane sat on the porch, taking in the laughter and conversation from her family. Jack joined her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as they watched their boisterous children.
“Quite the gathering we have today,” Jack remarked, warmth in his voice.
Jane smiled. “It seems like only yesterday I was boarding that train.”
Jack chuckled. “And now look at us—a family larger than either of us could’ve imagined.”
As their fingers intertwined, Jane looked into his eyes reflecting her conviction. “I’m so happy I found you,” she said simply.
A tender squeeze of her hand served as his silent promise. “I believe it was I who found you,” he whispered, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips.