My Momma
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 4: The Notebook
October arrived with golden aspens and crisp mornings that smelled of woodsmoke. Rebecca had been at the ranch for nearly a month now, and the days had settled into a comfortable rhythm punctuated by small moments of tenderness.
Silas would brush her hand when he passed her the coffee pot. Rebecca would catch him watching her from doorways, his expression soft. They’d steal kisses in the kitchen when Tessa was outside, brief and sweet and full of promise.
They were courting, though neither had used that word aloud.
Tessa observed it all with obvious satisfaction, though she’d stopped her more blatant matchmaking attempts. Instead, she simply radiated contentment, as if everything in her small world had finally aligned the way it should.
It was a Thursday morning when everything changed.
Tessa had gone with Silas into town for supplies—a rare trip that would take most of the day. Rebecca seized the opportunity to do a thorough cleaning of the upstairs, including changing all the bed linens.
She started with her own room, then moved to Tessa’s.
The child’s room was a mixture of orderly and chaotic. Dolls arranged carefully on a shelf, but clothes scattered across the floor. Books stacked neatly, but drawings covering every surface. Rebecca smiled as she worked, picking up a pinafore here, straightening a quilt there.
She stripped the sheets from Tessa’s narrow bed and was reaching for the fresh linens when she felt something hard beneath the mattress.
At first, she thought it was just a toy. Children hid things under mattresses—it was practically universal. But when she pulled it out, she found a small leather-bound notebook, worn at the edges and clearly well-used.
Rebecca sat on the edge of the bare mattress, holding it.
She shouldn’t look. She knew that. This was Tessa’s private property, her personal thoughts. Rebecca had no right to pry into a child’s journal.
But Tessa’s name was written on the cover in careful, childish letters: Tessa’s Important Book.
And beneath that, in smaller letters: Private. Secret. DO NOT READ.
Rebecca set it down, intending to tuck it back under the mattress and forget she’d seen it.
But then she noticed the date on the cover: Started May 1883.
May. Four months before Rebecca had arrived. Four months of ... what?
Her curiosity won. She opened to the first page.
What she saw made her heart stop.
How to Find a New Mama
A Plan by Tessa Marie Jacobs
Started: May 15, 1883
Below that, in Tessa’s uneven handwriting:
Mama said before she died that Papa would need to find me a new mama someday. She said I should help him pick someone good. Someone with kind eyes who will love us. Papa doesn’t remember this because he was crying too much. But I remember. I’m going to find the perfect new mama.
Important: She has to be EXACTLY right. Not just anybody. The PERFECT one.
Rebecca’s hands were shaking. She turned the page.
May 20 - Mrs. Henderson came today. Papa said she could cook real good. But she walked right past Mama’s flowers and didn’t even LOOK at them. That means she doesn’t see beautiful things. I told Papa she had mean eyes. Papa said I was being silly but I cried until she left. I’m not sorry.
May 22 - Miss Wilson came. She looked at our house and said it “needed work.” She said everything like it was WRONG. Our house isn’t wrong! Mama made it beautiful! I spilled stew on her dress on purpose. She left.
May 28 - Mrs. Patterson came and she laughed TOO LOUD. It hurt my ears and it wasn’t like Mama’s laugh at all. Mama’s laugh was soft and made you feel warm inside. Mrs. Patterson’s laugh made me want to hide. I told Papa she scared me. She didn’t really scare me but he believed me and she left.
Page after page of rejected candidates, each one dismissed for failing to meet standards only a six-year-old could articulate. Rebecca read with growing amazement—and horror.
June 3 - Another lady came. She said our curtains were “outdated” and she wanted to take down Mama’s lace curtains and put up something “modern.” I told Papa there were GHOSTS in the house and they liked the old curtains. The lady got scared and left. Papa doesn’t know I made up the ghosts.
June 15 - Miss Williams came. She seemed nice but then I heard her tell Mrs. Brennan in town that she was going to “civilize this rustic little household.” RUSTIC means she thinks we’re backwards. I don’t want someone who thinks we need fixing. I told Papa she said bad words when he wasn’t listening. She didn’t really but Papa believed me.
Rebecca covered her mouth with her hand. This child had been systematically sabotaging every woman Silas hired, protecting her father and their home with the fierce determination of someone who’d already lost too much.
But it was the next section that made Rebecca’s eyes fill with tears.
What the New Mama MUST Have:
1. Has to like Mama’s flowers - this is VERY VERY important because Mama loved them
2. Has to have kind eyes like Mama said to look for
3. Has to smile REAL not FAKE
4. Has to not think our house is broken
5. Has to read good stories with FEELING not boring
6. Has to make Papa laugh because he forgot how and it makes me sad
7. Has to make the house feel ALIVE again
8. Has to not mind that I help even when I make messes
9. Has to love me AND Papa both
10. Has to be BRAVE because our family is sad sometimes and she needs to be strong
Rebecca had to stop reading. Tears were streaming down her face, blurring the words. This list—this heartbreakingly specific list—had been written by a child who understood loss in ways no six-year-old should.
She wiped her eyes and continued.
July 10 - I heard Mrs. Brennan at the store talking about a lady in Billings who makes the best pies in three territories. She said the lady lost her parents and the bank took her house and she needs work. I asked Papa why we don’t look in Billings for workers and he said it’s far away. I said but Billings has GOOD workers, better than around here. He said maybe he’d think about it.
July 15 - I prayed extra hard tonight. God, if you’re listening, please send the pie lady from Billings. Please let her be the one with kind eyes. Please let her love us. Amen.
August 1 - Papa is putting an advertisement in the Billings newspaper!!! I asked him very careful questions about what he was going to say. I told him he should say “must be good with children” because that’s important. He agreed!!! My plan is working!!!
September 12 - Papa said three ladies from Billings wrote letters. One of them is the pie lady! Her name is Rebecca Milford. I love her name already. It sounds like a mama name.
Rebecca’s hand flew to her mouth. She’d been selected before she’d even arrived. Chosen from among applicants by a child with a plan.
The next entries were dated around her arrival:
September 18 - SEVEN LADIES came today to interview! I watched from the kitchen. I was very very careful.
Lady #1 - walked past the flowers. REJECTED.
Lady #2 - Said our porch boards needed replacing and looked at everything like it was falling apart. REJECTED.
Lady #3 - Had tired eyes not kind eyes. REJECTED.
Lady #4 - Fake smiled at me. I can tell fake smiles. REJECTED.
Lady #5 - Asked Papa how much he was paying before she even said hello. REJECTED.
Lady #6 - Nice but called me “little girl” instead of my name. REJECTED.
Lady #7 - Miss Rebecca Milford. SHE SMILED AT THE FLOWERS!!! She crouched down to talk to me like I matter!!! She has the KINDEST eyes I ever saw except for Mama’s!!! She asked if I planted the flowers and when I said Mama did, she said they were beautiful. She didn’t say Mama was lucky or ask how Mama died. She just said the flowers were beautiful.
This is her. This is THE ONE. I KNOW IT.
Rebecca’s tears were falling freely now, spattering on the pages. She turned to the next entry.
September 18 (after supper) - Miss Rebecca sings when she cooks!!! Not good singing but HAPPY singing like Mama used to!!! Papa came back to the house THREE TIMES today. He said he forgot things but I know he came to listen to her singing. Papa hasn’t listened to music since Mama died. This is a VERY GOOD SIGN.
September 19 - She reads to me!!! She smells like cinnamon and she lets me curl up next to her and she does all the voices different. Papa stood in the doorway listening and he had a soft look on his face. I haven’t seen that look in TWO YEARS.
September 20 - Miss Rebecca made Papa SMILE at breakfast. A real smile!!! Not the pretend smile he does when he thinks I’m watching. A REAL ONE. My plan is working!!! Thank you God!!!
September 25 - Papa is finding excuses to come to the house. Today he said he needed to “check the ledger” but the ledger is in the barn not the house. He stayed in the kitchen doorway for ten whole minutes watching Miss Rebecca make bread. He thinks I don’t notice but I notice EVERYTHING.
September 30 - I counted today. Papa looked at Miss Rebecca TWELVE TIMES at supper. TWELVE!!! And she looked at him when he wasn’t watching. They’re being very silly and slow about this but that’s okay. Grown-ups always take forever.
Rebecca had to stop reading again. She was laughing and crying at the same time. This child—this brilliant, determined, loving child—had orchestrated everything.
The next entries made her heart ache:
October 5 - Papa went into the storage room with Miss Rebecca today. I listened from the hallway. (I know I shouldn’t spy but this is IMPORTANT.) He told her about Mama’s letters. He told her about his promises. Then it got quiet and I think maybe they were KISSING. I wanted to burst in and ask but I made myself be patient. Patience is VERY HARD.
October 6 - They’re being careful around each other today. Shy. Like they’re scared. I wish I could tell them it’s okay to love each other. That Mama would want them to. That I PICKED Miss Rebecca special. But I can’t tell them about my plan yet. They have to think they decided on their own.
October 10 - Papa touched Miss Rebecca’s hand at breakfast today! Just for a second but I SAW IT. And she turned pink! This is EXCELLENT progress.
October 12 - I heard Miss Rebecca crying in her room tonight. Soft crying, not loud. I almost went in but Papa was standing in the hallway listening too. He looked so sad. I think they both want to love each other but they’re scared. Grown-ups are scared of EVERYTHING.
October 15 - Today I asked if we could have a picnic at the creek on Sunday. I said Mama used to love picnics there. Papa said yes! This is PERFECT because if I leave them alone they might finally TALK about their feelings instead of just looking at each other like sad puppies.
Rebecca’s chest was so full it hurt. She read the final entry:
October 18 - The picnic is on Sunday! I’m going to make sure Papa and Miss Rebecca have time alone. I’m going to play in the creek and stay far away so they can FINALLY talk. Maybe Papa will hold her hand! Maybe they’ll kiss again! Maybe they’ll realize they love each other!!!
I’ve been working on this plan for FIVE MONTHS. I’ve prayed every single night. I’ve watched and waited and made sure everything was perfect.
Miss Rebecca is exactly right. She’s kind and gentle and she makes Papa smile. She loves me even though she doesn’t have to. She sings in the kitchen and reads me stories and braids my hair and makes our house warm again.
Mama, if you’re reading this from heaven, I did good. I picked someone with kind eyes just like you said. I picked someone who will love us. I promise I’ll take care of her too. I’ll make sure she knows she belongs with us.
Tomorrow is Sunday. Tomorrow everything changes. I can feel it.
The entry ended there. That was yesterday. The picnic where—
Rebecca’s hands were shaking so hard she nearly dropped the notebook.
The picnic where Silas had held her hand. Where they’d watched Tessa play in the creek and talked about moving forward. Where they’d kissed while Tessa splashed in the water, giving them privacy while secretly orchestrating the entire encounter.
Rebecca closed the notebook and sat on the bare mattress, overwhelmed.
She’d been chosen. Not hired—chosen. Selected by a grieving six-year-old with a tactical mind and a desperate need for a mother. Every moment since she’d arrived had been part of a plan. Tessa’s plan.
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