My Momma
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 7: Epilogue
Three Months Later - February 1884
Winter had settled over the ranch with the fierce determination only Montana could muster. Snow piled against the barn doors. Ice formed intricate patterns on the windows each morning. The world beyond the ranch house seemed to shrink to just what they could see from the porch—white on white, with the dark line of mountains in the distance.
But inside the Jacobs house, there was warmth.
Rebecca stood at the kitchen window, watching Silas and Tessa trudge through the snow toward the barn for morning chores. Tessa was bundled in so many layers she waddled like a small bear, and Silas kept one hand on her shoulder to steady her through the drifts.
Rebecca smiled and turned back to the bread dough she was kneading. The morning routine had become second nature now—coffee first, then breakfast, bread rising by the stove while she started the day’s cooking. But it wasn’t lonely work anymore. This was her kitchen, her home, her family to feed.
The door burst open in a gust of cold air and Tessa tumbled in, snow-covered and breathless.
“Mama! Mama, the new calf is here! She’s all black except for a white star on her forehead and she’s SO PRETTY and Papa says I can name her!”
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart. What are you going to call her?”
Tessa considered seriously, pulling off her mittens. “I think ... Rebecca. Can I name her after you?”
Rebecca’s hands stilled in the dough, her throat suddenly tight. “You want to name the calf after me?”
“Is that okay? Or is it silly?”
“It’s not silly at all. It’s...” Rebecca wiped her floury hands and knelt down to Tessa’s level. “It’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Good. Because you’re my mama and I love you and the calf is going to be beautiful and strong just like you.” Tessa threw her arms around Rebecca’s neck. “Can we make special cookies to celebrate?”
“We can make any cookies you want.”
After Tessa had changed into dry clothes and settled at the table with her slate to practice letters, Silas came in carrying fresh milk.
“Heard you got a namesake,” he said to Rebecca, his eyes warm with amusement.
“Apparently I’m a calf now.”
“A very pretty calf. Black with a white star.” He set the milk pail down and pulled her in for a quick kiss. “You should be honored. Tessa’s very particular about names.”
“I am honored.” Rebecca leaned into him for just a moment, stealing warmth. “How much longer until the thaw, do you think?”
“Another month at least. Maybe two. Why? Tired of being snowed in with us?”
“Never. Just curious.”
But Silas knew her well enough now to read the slight hesitation. “What is it?”
Rebecca glanced at Tessa, who was absorbed in her letters, then lowered her voice. “I think I might be pregnant.”
Silas went very still. “You think?”
“I’m almost certain. About six weeks along, if I’m counting right. I wasn’t going to say anything until I was sure, but...” She smiled up at him. “I’m sure.”
The joy that broke across his face was like sunrise. He picked her up and spun her around, making her laugh and protest about the bread dough.
“We’re having a baby!” He set her down but kept his hands on her waist, his expression wonder-struck. “Tessa’s going to have a brother or sister!”
“What are you talking about?” Tessa looked up from her slate. “Who’s having a baby?”
Silas and Rebecca exchanged a glance. They’d planned to wait longer before telling her, but the secret was out now.
“Your mama is,” Silas said, pulling Tessa into their circle. “You’re going to be a big sister.”
Tessa’s eyes went wide. Then she let out a shriek that probably startled the chickens in the henhouse. “A BABY! We’re having a BABY! I’m going to be a big sister!”
She danced around the kitchen, her previous solemnity completely forgotten, singing “I’m going to be a big sister!” at the top of her lungs.
“Well,” Rebecca said, laughing, “I suppose the whole valley will know by supper time.”
“Can I tell the new calf? Can I tell Rebecca the calf that there’s going to be a baby?”
“You can tell whoever you want, sweetheart.”
Tessa grabbed her coat and mittens and was out the door before either adult could stop her, presumably to inform the livestock of the exciting news.
Silas pulled Rebecca close again. “How do you feel? Are you well? Do you need to rest? Should you even be kneading bread?”
“Silas.” She placed her hands on his chest. “I’m pregnant, not fragile. Women have been having babies and doing farmwork for thousands of years. I’m fine.”
“But—”
“I’m fine,” she repeated firmly. “Happy. Excited. A little nervous. But fine.”
He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. “A baby. Our baby. Tessa’s going to be impossible to live with now. She’ll probably have the nursery planned and the name picked out by dinner.”
“Undoubtedly.” Rebecca returned to her bread dough, feeling Silas’s eyes on her with a mixture of love and protective concern that made her heart full. “But she’ll be a wonderful big sister.”
“She will.” Silas poured himself coffee and sat at the table, still looking dazed. “Catherine and I tried for years to give Tessa a sibling. It never happened. And now...”
“Now you’re getting your wish. We all are.”
“Do you think it’s wrong? That I’m this happy about it? When Catherine wanted it so badly and—”
Rebecca set down the dough and moved to him, taking his face in her hands. “Catherine would be thrilled. You know she would. She’d probably say it took you long enough and what were you waiting for.”
Silas laughed, the sound rough with emotion. “She would say exactly that. She wanted a houseful of children. Used to drive me crazy with her plans—she had names picked out for at least six hypothetical children.”
“Six?”
“She was ambitious.” He pulled Rebecca onto his lap. “What about you? How many children do you want?”
“Let’s start with this one and see how it goes,” Rebecca said practically. But inside, she was imagining it—a house full of children, noise and laughter and chaos. A family growing and thriving. “Though I wouldn’t mind a few more. If we’re blessed.”
“We’re already blessed.” Silas’s hand rested on her still-flat stomach. “More than I ever thought possible after Catherine died. You gave me back my life, Rebecca. You and Tessa between you.”
“We gave each other life,” Rebecca corrected. “I was just surviving before I came here. You and Tessa made me whole again.”
They sat like that for a while, wrapped in each other and the warmth of the kitchen, until Tessa’s voice called from outside that the calf was very excited about the news and could she please have those cookies now?
Twelve Years Later - Summer 1896
Tessa Jacobs stood in her childhood bedroom, now sixteen years old and preparing for her own wedding in two weeks. The room looked different than it had when she was small—more grown-up, with fewer dolls and more books—but some things remained the same. The view from the window still showed her mother’s flowers, now tended by her younger siblings. The quilt on the bed was still the one Mama Rebecca had made for her tenth birthday.
And under the mattress, though she’d long since outgrown hiding things there, was her old notebook. Tessa’s Important Book.
She pulled it out now, smiling at her childhood handwriting, at the earnest entries documenting her matchmaking scheme. She’d shown it to her fiancé, James Henderson—Sam and Clara’s son—and he’d laughed himself sick reading about her strategic planning.
“No wonder you’re so good at organizing the ranch accounts,” he’d said. “You’ve been a tactical genius since you were six.”
A knock on the door interrupted her reminiscence. “Come in!”
Mama Rebecca entered, carrying a wooden box that Tessa recognized immediately. Catherine’s letters.
“I thought today might be the right time,” Mama said, sitting on the bed beside her. “You’re sixteen now. Getting married in two weeks. There are letters here for both occasions.”
Tessa took the box reverently. She’d known about these letters her whole life, had occasionally asked about them, but Mama and Papa had always said she’d receive them at the right times.
Apparently, the right time was now.
“Should I open them alone?” she asked.
“That’s up to you. They’re private—between you and your first mama. But I’m happy to stay if you want company.”
Tessa thought about it. “Stay. Please. You’re part of this too.”
She opened the box and found the envelope marked To Tessa, on her sixteenth birthday. Her hands trembled slightly as she broke the seal.
Inside was a letter in her mother Catherine’s familiar handwriting—she’d seen it on old recipes and notes Papa had saved:
My darling Tessa,
If you’re reading this, you’re sixteen years old. Almost a woman. I wish I could see you, but since I can’t, I’ll imagine: I bet you’re beautiful. I bet you’re smart and strong and everything I hoped you’d be.
I’m writing this while you sleep in the next room, and the fever is burning me up from the inside. The doctor says I have maybe a week. I’m trying to be brave, but mostly I’m just sad. Sad that I won’t see you grow up. Sad that I won’t be there for all the moments that matter.
But here’s what I want you to know: I’m not afraid for you. Because I’ve made sure you’ll be taken care of. I’ve made your papa promise to find you a new mama—someone kind and good who will love you like I do. And knowing your papa, he’ll probably drag his feet about it, so you might have to help him along. You’re a smart girl. I know you’ll figure it out.
By the time you’re sixteen, you’ll have had a mama for years. Someone who braided your hair and read you stories and helped you through all the things I’m going to miss. And I hope—I pray—that you love her. That you let her be your mama without feeling guilty about it.
Because here’s the truth, sweetheart: love doesn’t divide. It multiplies. You can love me and love her at the same time. You have room in your heart for both of us. And I give you permission—in case you need it—to call her Mama without “Rebecca” or “new” or any other qualifier. She earned that title. She stayed when she could have left. She loved you when she didn’t have to.
Thank her for me, would you? Thank her for raising my baby girl. For being brave enough to love someone else’s child. For stepping into a hard situation and making it beautiful.
And Tessa? Live. Live big and bold and don’t be afraid. Love deeply. Laugh often. Dance in the rain. Plant flowers. Read stories to your own children someday. Be everything you’re meant to be.
I love you. I’ll always love you. Even from heaven.
Your first mama,
Catherine
Tessa was crying before she finished reading. Mama Rebecca was crying too, silent tears streaming down her face.