The Thorn (22 page)

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Authors: Beverly Lewis

BOOK: The Thorn
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Then, as if in answer to prayer, she saw a market wagon rumbling down the road toward her. The horse, of all things, looked like Pepper! Could it be Bishop Aaron or Christian?

She moved farther into the road, so the driver might see her and stop. She was a bit surprised to see Nick perched atop the wagon, holding the reins.

Immediately steering the horse off to the side of the road, he stopped and jumped down. He ran quickly to her and knelt beside her on the ground. "Rosie ... what happened?"

"I fell," she said, starting to cry. "Ach, silly me."

He didn't ask what she was doing so far from home on foot. He simply scooped her up into his strong arms and carried her to the wagon. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling terribly self-conscious this close to her friend.

Nick set her down gently on the wooden seat. "You want to stretch out in the back instead?" he asked, standing over her anxiously.

"No, I'll make a spectacle of myself." She could just picture people staring and wondering if she was half dead.

He dashed around to the driver's seat. "I'm headin' to Quarryville to pick up some tools for the bishop. I could drop you by the Amish doctor's." He glanced at her before reaching for the reins. "Or do ya want to go right home?"

"Might be best to take me to Old Eli's, jah," Rose managed to say, feeling dizzy. The Amish doctor would know if she needed more help than he could give.

Nick signaled Pepper to move forward. After they were on the road for a short time, he looked at her every so often as though he wasn't sure she was going to be all right ever again.

Nick was fairly quiet on the ride to Quarryville, but at one point he asked what Rose had been doing clear down there, near Jackson's Sawmill Covered Bridge. Clasping her knee, she explained that she'd gone to spy on Gilbert Browning's house. "I actually saw the girl - the one you and I saw in the second-story window Wednesday night."

"A girl, you say?"

"A teenager, I'd guess. She was down in the kitchen." Rose told him how she'd called through the window repeatedly. "I wanted so badly to talk to her."

Nick looked surprised. "Did ya?"

"Oh no. She was scared of me and ran right out of the room and up the stairs." She paused to catch her breath and felt a surge of renewed pain. "'Tween you and me, I think she might be slow in her mind."

"Like Samuel's Abe?" he asked, referring to the deacon's special grandson.

"Come to think of it, very much like Abe." Rose remembered taking care of Abe recently while looking after Mamm, too. She'd seen Nick seek out young Abe, as well, after Preaching services during the common meals, or when the boys played cornerball and other outdoor games after corn-husking bees and whatnot. Abe always looked comfortable talking to Nick.

"There's just somethin' about Abe," said Nick. "He loves horses, 'specially Pepper."

"Jah, and he likes standin' right up close to your horse to pet him."

"Well, it ain't my horse."

"Might as well be."

Nick chuckled and raised his left hand like he was about to reach over and touch hers. Instead, he reached again for the reins.

"Bein' near the animals seems to help him." Nick began to talk about the Fresh Air Program, which allowed some disabled children to spend summers with a farm family. She'd heard about the program from folk involved with the seasonal foster care.

As they pulled into the driveway leading to the Amish doctor's place, the sky looked ready to open up in a deluge of rain. Rose felt the first few drops on her head as Eli Stoltzfus's house came into view. "Oh, just in time," she whispered, hoping to get some relief from the pain.

"You goin' to be all right?" Nick looked at her sympathetically.

She smiled faintly. She'd never seen him so caring, without a hint of his usual teasing.

He stopped the horse and jumped down to the hitching post, his ponytail jerking. Then he hurried around to lift her out of the wagon and carried her to the back door. There he stood with her in his arms, unable to ring the doorbell. He called through the screen door for someone to come and help.

"I feel so dappich - clumsy," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Just hold on to me. We'll get you better right quick."

A young woman came and opened the door. "Oh, dear girl, what happened to ya?"

Nick explained that she'd fallen along the roadside and followed the nurse inside. In the first available room, he lowered Rose onto the examining table, then awkwardly backed away, lingering only briefly to say he'd return for her within the hour.

"Denki, Nick ... so much," Rose said. Then she leaned back into the fresh pillow the kindly woman tucked beneath her head.

Struggling to keep her emotions in check, Hen pulled the car out of the driveway. She knew better than to look too long at the pretty little house she'd always loved - mine and Brandon's. And she certainly hadn't known what to tell Mattie Sue as she loaded their suitcases and several large boxes filled with toiletries, mementos, and her Bible, too. Hen had already taken the liberty of packing all of Mattie's dolls, toys, books, and art supplies into the trunk. She'd also included the materials for the quilted wall hanging she was making, as well as Mattie's pillow and favorite comforter and matching sheet set. In short, she'd packed everything she thought her daughter would miss ... as well as the things Hen most cared about, including Brandon's and her small wedding album. She did not take any family pictures off the wall, nor remove the large framed wedding picture from the dresser. Those would have been too obvious to Brandon.

Not wanting to confuse or upset Mattie Sue, she'd simply said they were going to see the barn kitties today. "We'll visit Grandpa and Grandma for a while."

Mattie seemed perfectly content in the backseat with her doll and perked up when Hen mentioned the kittens. Caught up in her own little make-believe world, perhaps Mattie Sue had been spared the earlier heartbreaking conversation between Brandon and herself.

Hen was also grateful Brandon had stayed around longer than she'd expected. He'd lingered over his second cup of coffee after breadfast. In fact, her husband had been downright pleasant at the table, interacting with Mattie Sue more than usual. For an instant, Hen had wished they might somehow frame the happy moment for always.

How will he manage his meals? she'd thought as she cleared the table while Mattie went to her room to play.

When he was done eating, Brandon hadn't rushed off to work as was typical but had taken time to kiss her and say he loved her. "Don't be away too long, Hen," he'd said amiably, although his expression looked tense.

His words had echoed in her thoughts as she'd made quick work of organizing a week's worth of underwear and pajamas for both her and Mattie Sue. She'd left nearly all of their English clothing, planning to sew Amish attire for both of them as soon as she was settled at her parents' home again. Besides, she didn't know if she could bear spending more time than necessary in her and Brandon's lovely bedroom, reliving their happier days as she went from dresser drawer to closet to suitcase.

By the time she turned into her father's lane, Hen felt almost too limp and emotionally spent to walk. The future seemed at once joyful and heartrending. Glancing at the house, she saw the orderly lineup of wash hanging out to dry. She wondered if she should talk first to her dad about staying so as not to upset her mother. After all, he'd said last visit they were "always welcome," but he surely didn't mean on a long-term basis.

Getting out of the car, Hen looked across the meadow toward the bishop's big spread of land and his beautiful farmhouse. What would the man of God say about Brandon's encouraging this trial separation? Hen cringed at the thought. She felt as ferhoodled as ever she'd been, wanting what she missed about the Amish community, yet already sorely missing her husband. How was Brandon doing right now? Could he pull off this workday, knowing he would return tonight to an empty house?

How long would it take for her to yearn again for the English life - or would she ever? From now on, every moment, every single day must count toward Mattie Sue's training in obedience and selflessness.

Hen dismissed the idea of going directly to speak with the bishop, although she desperately wanted his wisdom as soon as possible. Once she had her parents' consent, she would go and confess her sins, then ask for his wise counsel and prayer.

A superstition she'd heard from Aunt Malinda came to mind as she walked with Mattie Sue across the backyard. "To keep a child from being homesick, offer a drink of cold water immediately upon arriving at a new location."

She guided Mattie to the well pump and gave her a drink from the dipper. Then they headed to the barn to see the promised kitties. She collected her thoughts in the midst of the musty-smelling barn as her daughter made over the little mouse-catchers. Hen had asked her father to remember her in his prayers the last time they had visited. But never had she guessed she'd be right back here on his doorstep, asking if she and Mattie Sue could stay.

A lot can change in five years, she thought, looking affectionately at Mattie Sue, the precious result of her and Brandon's love. I'm doing this so you can know the God of your forefathers, my dearest girl....

"Mommy?" Mattie Sue looked up at her. She held a tiny gray kitten in her hands.

"Yes, honey."

"Why doesn't Grandma Emma let kitties in her house?"

"Well, because they're happier out here with their brothers and sisters." All twenty of them.

"Do you think Grandma would let me take this one inside - just once?"

Hen knew all too well that her parents were sticklers about keeping cats outdoors. "Your grandmother isn't well, sweetie ... so let's not worry her with your favorite kitty."

"But, Mommy - "

She shook her head. "Remember, it's important to obey," she told her. "It's not pleasing to God to whine and carry on, hoping you'll get your way."

Mattie's big eyes blinked slowly.

"When I was a little girl your age, my father or mother told me something once and that was the end of it."

"Did you ever get spankings?" Mattie Sue asked.

"Not after the first few, no." Hen sighed, remembering. "Aunt Rosie and I were expected to mind right away. We didn't argue with our parents."

"Why'd you get spankings, then?"

She smiled. "I needed to know what it felt like to be punished ... for what I did wrong."

"Oh." Mattie's eyes were sad.

"My dad - your grandpa Solomon - believes that our heavenly Father wants us to obey Him. It is always best."

"Why?"

"Because it makes God glad."

Mattie Sue thought about that. "Daddy never spanks me."

"No . . . " She wished Mattie Sue were younger. Already, Hen had her work cut out for her. "When we love God, we want to obey Him ... always." The words sounded right, but her life with Brandon was the poorest example of this. Hen was a terrible role model for her daughter. Yes, she had much to make up for, and not only her daughter's shoddy rearing.

Sighing, Hen bent down for the gray kitten's older brother, a larger black cat, and picked him up, stroking his neck. "Let's leave the kitties out here to play while we go in and see Grandma Emma."

"Okay, Mommy." Mattie Sue set the kitten down, took Hen's hand, and walked toward the sliding barn door without a single fuss.

I'll talk to Dad in a little while, she thought, feeling terribly chagrined.

The Brauchdokder massaged Rose's leg in downward strokes from the bruised area, gently at first, then stronger each time he repeated the movement. Rose cried out with pain as Eli's massage became deeper ... nearly unbearable. Afterward, he placed first a cold pack on the elevated knee, and then a hot compress, alternating back and forth for nearly an hour before wrapping her knee in a soft bandage.

By the time Nick returned, Rose was able to gingerly hold her weight on the injured leg without severe pain. She'd almost forgotten how useful therapeutic massage could be to a strained and bruised muscle. Mammi Sylvia would've remembered, she thought as Nick offered to pay the old-timer for his services.

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