Mattie Sue was not to be put off.
"Karen's daddy is getting her one." Mattie's lower lip protruded. "Her mommy thinks she's old enough."
"I didn't say you aren't, honey."
Her daughter batted her big blue eyes. "Can't we get one, Mommy ... please?"
The whining and pleading were uncalled for. She and Rose had never carried on like this as youngsters. And if they had, well, her father - or Mamm, before her accident - would've nipped it right in the bud. More and more, the way Hen viewed her own childhood was evolving ... as was the childhood she now wished for Mattie Sue.
"Sweetie, go get your coloring book, please."
"I want to talk about the puppy," Mattie insisted. "And my crayons are all broken." She began to sob.
Hen refused to let her daughter get the best of her. She looked around for Brandon, thinking he might entertain her while Hen loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen. "Where's Daddy?" she asked, hoping Mattie might take the hint and go looking.
"Downstairs working." It sounded like wahking.
Hen wasn't sure when Brandon had slipped away, but with one quick look toward the stairs, she noticed the lights on in the family room. "Maybe Daddy will color with you," she suggested, although she guessed it was unlikely.
Mattie Sue plopped down on the kitchen floor and rubbed her fists into her eyes. "I really want a puppy. You'd get me one if you loved me...." she whimpered.
Hen folded the dishcloth and placed it on the counter. I won't tolerate this behavior, she thought, heading for the bedroom. Quietly, she closed the door and sat on her side of the bed. "Mattie doesn't know how to obey," she whispered. Brandon's and her permissiveness had produced a self-indulgent child with little respect for parents. Sure, Mattie was still very young, but when Hen looked at her daughter, she saw so little of herself. Hardly a speck of Christian rearing ... because of Brandon's worldly influence. And mine.
After a few minutes, Hen returned to the kitchen with new resolve, only to find that Mattie had taken her broken crayons and coloring book and gone downstairs after all.
After Mattie was comfortably tucked in for the night, Hen approached Brandon. Quietly, she sat at the breakfast table across from him, where he was having a piece of leftover pie. "Honey, can we talk?" she said when he looked up.
He put his fork down and folded his hands beneath his chin. "What's on your mind?" His light brown hair was mussed from raking his fingers through it. The soft blue of his eyes was faded, washed out from a hectic day.
The joy of having found the ideal job welled up in her, and Hen momentarily hoped he might be as happy as she was for herself. "I've been offered a job," she told him. "A really terrific one, Brandon."
A deep frown appeared on his face. "A job? You know you don't have to work."
She nodded. "But I need to."
A long silence ensued, and then he shook his head. "Are you bored at home?"
"Oh, Brandon ... no. I love taking care of Mattie Sue." And she did. "It's just that - "
"You're restless?"
She looked down at the woven tan place mat, working up the nerve to share her inner thoughts. It was much more than a restless feeling. "I guess so. And to be honest with you, I feel like a fake," she said in a near whisper. "I want to reconnect with my roots."
He cleared his throat. "Your roots? What sort of job are we talking here?"
"Rachel's Fabrics - there's an opening for a clerk. She wants me to start this Monday."
"Hen," Brandon said, shaking his head, "that's an Amish store, right?"
"I really want to work there."
"That's not possible."
"I can see why you'd think that, but - "
"No, it's completely unnecessary."
"What about how I feel?" she asked. "Don't you care how I feel?"
Brandon leaned forward on the table, his eyes steely blue and bright. "I really don't want you to get sucked back into that life, Hen. Remember how you felt before we were married? You were so done with being Plain - at least you convinced me you were."
She remembered all too well. But she wouldn't admit to having made a mistake in leaving, because marrying him was a big reason for that. And she did not believe their relationship was a mistake. "I married you because I love you, not to escape my Plain life, if that's what you're thinking."
He shook his head. "You felt trapped, Hen ... afraid you would be expected to help care for your mother. Afraid you wouldn't have your own life."
She suppressed the urge to cry. How dare he pull this out of a hat - the vulnerable thoughts she'd shared with her new husband a few weeks after they'd wed. "I didn't mean that I only married to get away from my family and my heritage, Brandon. You know better than that."
"Well, I can see where this is heading," he said more softly. "And I don't want to lose you to a life you despised."
Feeling all spent, she tried again. "The job's only part-time - a few mornings or afternoons a week." Their eyes locked. "Please, Brandon, can't I do this?"
"You mean until you get this out of your system?"
She couldn't answer; she felt so torn. She wanted to be completely honest, to share her concern about Mattie Sue's missing out on the simple gifts, the characteristics of obedience and kindness, generosity and tranquility ... all the lovely things the Amish taught their children. But it was impossible for him to understand. Besides, it was unwise to bring her assessment of Mattie's needs into the equation tonight.
"Look, honey ... you and I both know you're impulsive by nature. You run with what you want. You decided to go out with me on the spur of the moment - never blinked twice. You've lived your whole life like that."
"That's unfair."
He shook his head slowly, still looking at her. "But it's true."
"Maybe before Mattie Sue was born ... but I'm not that way now." Hen fought the lump in her throat.
His mouth twitched, and Brandon pushed away from the table. "It's getting late."
"Yes." She sighed, feeling desperately sad.
They looked at each other, the tension between them so strong it was palpable. Brandon was beyond peeved, and Hen felt helpless and terribly frustrated.
She rose and began picking up the house, straightening magazines and tossing out snippets of paper. She stacked up the mail scattered around the coffee table and watered her plants. Then she washed her hands to make tomorrow's lunch for her husband. Once that was accomplished, she looked in on Mattie Sue, who was sound asleep. Blissfully so.
Heading back to the master bedroom, Hen found Brandon already sprawled out on the bed, asleep. She reached for her robe on the back of the bathroom door, careful not to bump the oval mirror nearby. Staring at the small crack on its surface, she had never forgotten the disoriented bird that had caused it, flying into the bedroom a few hours before she walked down the bridal aisle. As terrible as having a black cat walk across your path.
Please, God, let me have a glimpse of the life I left behind. Don't let Brandon stand in my way....
Even before the rooster crowed the next morning, Rose Ann flung off her bed quilt and went to find her writing paper and a nice pen. Padding over to the windows, she raised the shades and looked out to the south, where the pastureland sat like a large blanket between the bishop's property and her father's.
The day might bring rain; the pending dawn could not disguise the clouds. But Rose's spirits were bright - Mamm had announced last evening at supper that she felt well enough to attend Malinda's party today ... which meant Rose should be free tomorrow evening to do as she wished.
Going to sit on the chair nearby, she reached for her current library book and used it as a little writing desk. She clicked the pen and began to write a reply to Silas Good.
Dear Silas,
It was nice to receive your letter this week. I'll plan to meet you at the appointed spot tomorrow night. Hopefully this note will find its way to you in time.
Denki for praying for my grandfathe
r. He is indeed much improved, and we are all very grateful the Lord has restored him to us. Mamm, however, is very frail. She has suffered greatly this past year. Your prayers for her mean a lot to my family and to me.
Until we meet again.
Your friend, Rose Ann Kauffman
Should she have closed the letter differently, perhaps with a Most sincerely or Always? Just to be on the safe side, Rose chose to follow Silas's lead in this.
Rose had always liked Aunt Malinda Blank's house, set back as it was on the sheltered side of Shady Road. Her aunt lived in her own Dawdi Haus, surrounded by trees and low-growing bushes - a small brick house so well hidden from the road some folk would get partway into the drive before they realized they had the wrong address, especially since her mailbox had no numbers on it.
En aldi Maed - an old maid - Malinda was reasonably proud of her single status. It was commonly known that she'd felt love wasn't just sacred for those who married. As a youth, she had lost her own dear beau to a barn fire, and she said the memory of their affection was enough to carry her through the rest of her life.
Since parties for a grown woman were rare, Rose guessed this must be a landmark birthday for her mother's sister. Yet Rose, polite as she was, did not ask her mother or grandmother Aunt Malinda's age as she guided the horse to the fence post. She supposed her aunt had reached the half-century mark.
Several buggies were already parked along the side yard as Rose tied the horse to the post. Malinda came out the back door, smiling and chattering, and invited them inside as if she'd known they were coming, even though this was intended to be a surprise party. She held open her ample arms to Rose and planted a kiss on her cheek, as she often did - seeking Rose out whenever there was a gathering. Mamm had shared privately that Malinda had felt a special connection with Rose since her infancy, when Malinda had come to the house to help out for a few days after the birth.
By the time all the birthday well-wishers had arrived at Malinda's, there were more than a dozen relatives and friends gathered in the front room. They sat in a wide circle on the wooden chairs brought in from the kitchen and some folding chairs from the main house, where Malinda's nephew and family lived. The birthday girl looked as vivacious and bright-eyed as always in her green dress and black apron. Her brownish-blond hair was graying only slightly at the temples and toward the front of her middle part.
The deacon's daughter-in-law, Nancy Mae Esh, slipped in next to Rose. "Would ya have time next week to watch my Abe for a morning?"
"Why sure, bring him over anytime," Rose said of Nancy's autistic son. "Happy to help out."
"Denki," Nancy Mae said. "Abe and his twin brother, Sam, surely need a break from each other." It would not be the first time Rose watched the deacon's special grandson. She enjoyed having him around.
In a short while, Rose went to help the other young women set up for a card game of Dutch Blitz. Out back, one of the large dogs barked and came right up to the back screen door, where it whined till Malinda poked her head out the door. "We've got company, Laddie ... now go on with ya!" She shooed him off, then came back to start passing around small sheets of paper and pencils.
Malinda's niece by marriage - fair-haired Lydia Zook - took over from there. "We can't eat our mystery meal till everyone guesses what these words stand for," Lydia said from across the room.
Rose had played this guessing game before and enjoyed seeing who worked extra hard to be creative enough to fool the luncheon guests. She scanned the list of descriptive words, smiling at some of the more obvious clues - she suspected some might not be food items at all. Fence posts, Grandma's dandruff, honeymooning, rabbit snack, flour power, brown eyes, scratch, jiggle berries, rodent's glee, cow pies, red wheelbarrow wheels, and udder delight.
Right away, she knew that Grandma's dandruff had to be table salt, and udder delight? She hoped that was ice cream and couldn't imagine anything else.
In a bit, Lydia announced it was time for everyone to put their papers and pencils under their seats to play Dutch Blitz, Rose's favorite game. The fast-moving game meant you could not blink an eye - not if you wanted to win. As there were plenty of decks of cards to go around, they divided into groups of three or four, and Mamm and Mammi appeared delighted to end up together, though each was wise to the other's tricks.
They were in the process of scooting their chairs into smaller groups when Lucy Petersheim arrived late, rushing into the front room. Catching Rose's eye, she asked if she could sit with her, and Rose agreed. "I hear you're doin' some cooking and cleanin' for Gilbert Browning," Lucy said while the cards were being counted into piles of forty for each player.
"I've only worked for him three times so far, since I'm goin' just once a week."
Lucy lowered her voice. "Not to be unkind, but do ya think he's a little strange?"
"He seems normal enough ... quite sluggish, though. But I'd have to say he's harmless." Rose didn't mention hearing the mouse above the pantry. Lots of farmhouses had a running battle with rodents.
"Did he forbid ya to go upstairs?"
"Wasn't quite as blunt as that."
"'Under no circumstances,' he told me."
Rose said that he was a little jumpy when she'd suggested dusting the sitting room or stripping his bedsheets.
"Oh jah, I know just what ya mean." Lucy nodded her blond head. "Honestly, he gave me the heebie-jeebies."
"Is that why you quit?" Rose studied her.
She leaned near Rose to whisper, "I daresay that old house is truly haunted."
"You mean it?" A shiver ran up Rose's back.
"Mighty creepy, 'tis."
Not one to get caught up in too much gossip, Rose was glad it was time to start the game.
Any thought of Mr. Browning was soon swept from Rose's mind as she became caught up in the rhythm of play. It turned out Lucy was one fierce player - she shouted "Blitz!" quite loudly, ending the game at their table. Mammi Sylvia called out the same within seconds at the table next to theirs.
Putting down her cards, Rose waited for the final tally from Lucy, thinking how much fun it would've been to have Hen here, too. She felt worried for her sister and wondered if Hen had any idea what havoc she might cause with her husband.
But then, Rose did not want to entertain such thoughts, afraid pondering them too hard might just make them come true.
Rose stared out the nearby window at the turning leaves of the trees along the road. The colors seemed more vibrant against the gray sky. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a young fellow dressed all in black came riding bareback across the vacant field. Is that Nick?
She must've made a sound, because Lucy turned to her and, seeing Rose staring outside, moved her head to look just as quickly. But Lucy had missed the black horse and its matching rider ... so very swiftly they had passed.
"You all right?" Lucy asked Rose, who had returned to counting her cards.
"Jah -'twas nothing," Rose reassured her, yet spotting Nick or someone just as tall riding a driving horse in broad daylight made her ill at ease. The ministerial brethren weren't keen on driving horses being used for recreational purposes. If it had been Nick, might he know she was here and be sending her a message? Did he want her to go riding with him tonight, maybe?
Soon it was determined that both Lucy and Mammi Sylvia were indeed winners, and the other tables continued to play while these two tables shuffled cards and prepared to play again. Meanwhile, Rose dismissed her suspicions as ridiculous.
Even so, when the card games commenced again, Rose could not keep her mind on the game. Her thoughts turned toward a book she'd read years ago, when she was just a girl. She'd forgotten the title, but the childish story was about a pony named Misty who was content to graze the pastureland by day, but who broke through the fence each night to gallop wildly across the windswept moors.
If the rider was Nick, why'd he ride past so boldly? she wondered again. Is he so brash, he doesn't care if he's caught?
Her questions went
around in her head during the mystery meal: lettuce, carrots, biscuits, sliced tomatoes, cheese, chicken, strawberry Jell-O, brownies, and ice cream. Of course, the one who got the most items correct earned an extra brownie!
Even so, the jumble of thoughts did not let up even as Rose turned the carriage toward home, oblivious to Mamm's and Mammi's chatter, or to the rain now making down. She fretted over the possibility Nick had been on that horse. Might he have been seen by someone who would tell the bishop?
And what about Lucy's jitters over the Browning house? Haunted, she called it!
Rose wondered what Silas Good might say about either subject. He seemed like a level-headed sort of fellow, and she yearned to get to know him better. She wished she hadn't been so slow to accept his invitation for tomorrow evening. Hopefully she hadn't given him the wrong idea. She was eager to see him again - and to join the other youth in their festivities, as well - but she felt so disconnected from all that had gone on these months. What would it be like to go back now? Could Silas help Rose make sense of her life and her future? Truly she wished for far more than what she woke up to each morning. Ever so much more!
That afternoon, Rose Ann saw Nick over near the goat pen. She waited until she was certain no one was around to approach him, then took the letter from her pocket and held it at her side. "Any chance you might have an errand to run yet today over near the Goods' farm?"
Nick shrugged. "Maybe ... why?"
"Here." She pushed the folded envelope into his hand. "Would ya mind putting this in their mailbox?"
"What for?"
"It's a letter, silly. If I send it by regular post, it won't reach the recipient in time."
Nick unfolded the envelope and read the address. "To Silas?" He paused. "Awfully forward, ain't?" He frowned as he studied her.
"He wrote me first."
"Well, why?"
"None of your business. Just make sure you get it over there before suppertime, jah?" Rose said, ready to return to her outdoor chores.
Nick shrugged. "I'll see 'bout that."
She groaned, then gave him a good look. "You're just pullin' my leg, ain't? You'll take it over, won't ya?"
The Thorn (The Rose Trilogy) Page 7
