Rose pondered that, wondering why Rebekah didn’t already have a serious beau back home. If she had, surely she wouldn’t have come. “Wouldn’t you miss your family if ya stayed?”
“Oh sure. But just maybe, if I settle down here, they’ll all return to Lancaster County someday.”
Rose wondered if the Bontragers really would be willing to move back after living this long in Indiana, where they had land to spare.
Just then, Silas walked into the barn. He immediately looked puzzled when he saw Rose talking to Rebekah. She decided to wait till he came over to talk to her and continued getting caught up on her friend’s activities, including Rebekah’s stint as a schoolteacher.
“I’d prob’ly still be teaching, but the school board decided to bring on an older woman for the one-room schoolhouse,” Rebekah said, still wearing her contagious smile. “A Mennonite teacher.”
“Is that so?”
“Interesting, ain’t? I’d say the church district we’re in out there is . . . different.”
“There are plenty of diverse church Ordnungs just a little ways north of here, too, ya know.”
“Well, where I’m from, we’re allowed to have bikes with inflatable tires, for instance.”
“Goodness, that’ll never happen here.”
“Can you just imagine?” Rebekah glanced toward the fellows all clustered together across the barn. Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “Though I heard through the grapevine, some months back, that one of your boys here had taken to card playin’.”
“Not Rook, but face cards?”
“I’m talking ’bout the wicked cards with kings and queens and whatnot. I doubt you’d be surprised if I told ya.”
Rose listened, curious to know what Rebekah might say.
Rebekah continued. “This same fella supposedly bought himself a pair of Rollerblades. The bishop’s wife found ’em in the haymow.”
Rose said nothing.
“And I heard he ran off, too,” added Rebekah.
Rose wondered how Rebekah knew so much about Nick. “I s’pose you also heard other things.”
“Jah, ’tis awful sad.” Rebekah touched the back of Rose’s hand. “Everything all right?”
Rose wasn’t about to say it was, because it just wasn’t. And she didn’t know when anything related to Nick would ever be.
She looked again for Silas and saw he was still clear across the barn. He had just taken off his black felt hat and was scratching his head. No doubt it was a signal for her to excuse herself and be available for him to wander over and talk with. After all, she’d spent nearly all her time so far with Rebekah.
“They want me to just come back to where I belong.” Rebekah’s words spun round and round in Rose’s mind as she excused herself and headed straight for Silas Good, glad, after most of a day apart, to finally claim her place at his side.
Chapter 8
Hen watched contentedly as Mattie Sue and Beth Browning showed each other their stuffed animals later that evening. Most of Beth’s were cats and teddy bears, and she asked if Mattie Sue could count all of them. Mattie was up to eleven when Hen noticed her mother was starting to droop. “Looks like it’s almost bedtime for Mammi Emma,” she said softly from her spot across the kitchen.
The girls looked up, and then Beth went to stand beside the wheelchair and placed her hand on Hen’s mother’s slender arm.
Hen didn’t know if Rose had ever told Beth about the accident that caused her mother’s paralysis from the waist down, so Hen merely said that her mother wasn’t well.
“I want to write a healing prayer for her.” Beth’s eyes were moist. “I’ll write it in my notebook.”
“That’s kind of you, honey.” Hen eyed her mother, who was already asleep. “Mattie Sue, go and call Dawdi Sol for me, please.”
But her daughter continued to count Beth’s stuffed animals near the woodstove, not acknowledging Hen’s request.
“Mattie,” she said, slightly louder, getting up from her chair. “Did you hear what I asked?”
As if in a daze, Mattie Sue glanced up. “Oh, sorry, Mommy . . . what did ya say?”
Hen repeated herself before noticing Beth was now sitting on the wooden bench facing the wheelchair, a few inches from Mom. Beth’s eyes were intent on Mom, and she was whispering under her breath. Hen asked her, “Are you all right, Beth?”
“Your mommy’s not breathing so good,” Beth said.
“I think she’s just tired.” But in case she was mistaken, Hen moved close to her mother, watching . . . listening. After a moment, she assured Beth, “Jah, she’s resting now . . . please don’t worry.”
All the same, Beth sat like a statuette, her face turned toward Mom’s—her lips pursed shut.
Just then, Hen’s father came into the kitchen. Mattie Sue got up and trailed behind as he moved to the wheelchair. “Emma, dear.” He leaned down to scoop her up. “Time we head for bed, jah?”
Mom sighed deeply, not opening her eyes. She lay limp in his strong arms, resting her head against him as a sweet smile played across her lips. “Gut Nacht, alliebber—good night, everyone,” she said, eyes still closed.
“Sleep well, Mom,” said Hen, watching with a heavy heart.
“Good night, Mrs. Kauffman,” Beth said as she followed them to the doorway of their bedroom.
Mattie Sue clung to Hen’s long skirt. “Mommy?”
“Yes, honey?”
“What’s a-matter with Beth?”
Hen swallowed the lump in her throat. “Come here, sweetie.” She reached down and lifted Mattie Sue into her arms, glancing toward Beth. Carrying her little girl out to the back porch, she began to explain what Rose had told her about Gilbert Browning’s daughter. “God made some of us very special,” she said. “I mean, some people never really grow up inside. They might look like they’re older than you are, but in their mind—and heart—they’re still like little children.”
“Like me?”
She whispered, “Jah, honey.”
Mattie Sue’s eyes grew round. “Is that why Beth has so many stuffed animals with her?”
Hen nodded. “That’s right.”
“I like her, Mommy.” Mattie Sue turned, looking back to see Beth. “She’s really nice.”
“I think so, too.”
Beth returned to the kitchen, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know . . . but can’t your mommy walk?” she asked Hen, who put Mattie Sue down quickly.
“She hasn’t walked in eleven years—not since her accident.” Hen hoped she wasn’t saying more than she should to the tenderhearted young woman. “Did Rose Ann tell you about it?”
Beth frowned, her head tilted a little. Then, hesitating, she went to sit near the window and stared out at the darkness. “I miss Rosie,” she muttered, sniffing softly. “I really do.”
She must miss her father by now, too, Hen thought. She wondered if it might not be a good idea to have Beth head upstairs for bed sooner rather than later, considering her state. She’d get her settled in with Mattie Sue nearby. “Let’s read a story together,” she said. “What do ya say?”
Mattie Sue was all for it. “In Aunt Rosie’s room?” She began pulling out several new library books, offering them to Beth. “Did ya bring your pajamas along?” she asked a little shyly.
Beth brushed away her tears. “Yes, my favorite Strawberry Shortcake ones. I’ll show you.”
Hen was relieved to see Mattie Sue go to Beth’s side, and in a few minutes, when they were all in Rose’s room, Beth said she wanted to unpack her things. Mattie Sue can be a blessing to Beth, thought Hen as she made some room in one of Rose’s dresser drawers, knowing her sister wouldn’t mind.
She looked at her wristwatch and realized Rose might not be home for another three hours or more. If her beau takes her riding, she thought, so relieved that Nick Franco was out of the picture. I hope forever. . . .
Rose was happy to walk outside with Silas now that the sky had cleared. They headed ar
ound to the back of the barn, where they were less obvious. She’d kept her eye out for Rebekah off and on after the Singing, hoping the so-called new girl might not end up alone for the remainder of the evening.
“You seem quiet tonight.” Silas leaned down to smile at her in the white light of the full moon.
“Just concerned about Rebekah, I guess.” She sighed.
“She seems happy enough.”
“She told ya that?”
“I just think she’s glad to be back where she grew up.”
Rose nodded and gazed out at the brilliant fields. “Aren’t we lucky to live in such a pretty place?”
“Jah, and sometime soon, I’d like to take ya on a tour of a spot I think’s the prettiest—my father’s dairy farm.”
“It would be nice to get better acquainted with your sisters someday, too.”
“Oh, they’d welcome that, for sure.”
She thought of Rebekah—how odd that she’d been called upon to help with the Mast twins when there were plenty of young single women already here, such as Silas’s own unmarried sisters. “Too bad it’s so late in November . . . for Rebekah’s sake.” Typically by autumn of each year, the fellows had already picked their girls to date or court.
“Well, she didn’t come here to get a beau, even though she’s quite solidly Amish. She’s never been one to push the boundaries of propriety.”
“I’m just thinkin’ about what she told me,” Rose said.
“What’s that?”
“Something Annie Mast’s husband said.”
“Oh?”
“Apparently Noah hopes she’ll find a husband here.” Rose didn’t wait for Silas to respond. “I have to say I like her a lot . . . she’s grown up so much.”
“We all have, jah?” He chuckled, reaching for her hand.
She listened as he began talking about other things, but one comment he’d made niggled at her: What does he mean, Rebekah’s “solidly Amish”?
She dismissed it as they strolled together out near a small pond, talking softly and enjoying each other’s company. It had been a long time since they’d gone walking, and she always cherished their private times. It would’ve been silly to stick her neck out and repeat what Melvin had mentioned earlier. Truly, the notion of there being something special between Silas and Rebekah seemed altogether flawed now.
Rose breathed in the fresh, crisp night air, smiling as Silas’s hand interlaced with hers. I’m with my darling and nothing else matters!
At first Beth seemed resistant to letting Hen help her to bed, then tuck her in for the night. Hen had taken great care to give Beth her privacy while she changed into her nightclothes, waiting in the hallway till she said she was ready. Meanwhile, Mattie Sue was downstairs at the kitchen table, talking to her own stuffed animals, lining them all up on the kitchen bench.
“I miss Daddy,” whimpered Beth now as Hen sat on the edge of Rose’s bed. “I want him to come home soon.”
“Your grandpa needs his help right now. I’m sure your father will return just as soon as he can.”
Beth frowned. “If Grandpa dies, we’ll have to move again.”
“Why do you think that?” Hen asked gently.
“Daddy says Grandma’s too weak—she can’t live by herself. I remember how sad he looked when he told me. Almost as sad as when Mommy died.”
“Well, let’s not worry about that now.” Hen pulled up the top quilt and folded it down near Beth’s willowy neck. “You’ll feel better when you see Rose, jah?”
Beth’s face peeked out from the quilts. “She’s my best friend,” Beth said firmly. “I prayed for a friend . . . and God answered my prayer.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them.
Hen nodded, trying to understand her childlike faith, as well as the way she seemed to want to be treated. “When you wake up, Rose Ann will be right here, next to you.” She pointed to the other side of the bed. “I promise.”
“Why’s she gone so late?”
Hen smiled, recalling how she had asked her mom the same thing about her older brothers when they had been courting. At the time, Mom had shared her own concerns about the long hours. “How can it be wise for young folk to stay out most of the night?” A good many older parents felt the same way once their daughters, especially, turned sixteen and were considered courting age.
“Rose is out with her fella,” Hen explained.
“Her boyfriend?” Beth’s face beamed in the light of the gas lamp. “Who is he?”
“That’s up to Rosie to say.” Considering Amish tradition, there was no way Hen would commit Rose to more.
“Will you say a bedtime prayer?” Beth asked, bringing her hands out from beneath the covers and folding them under her chin.
Hen agreed, wondering how much longer Mattie Sue would be content alone downstairs. To comfort Beth, she began to say the nighttime prayer she’d learned verbatim as a little girl. “Holy Father, we ask that we may spend this coming night—which you have ordained for our rest—and all the remainder of our lives under your divine protection and shield. O holy Father, defend us and cover us with the wings of your compassion . . . Beth especially. Amen.”
Beth smiled up sweetly at her. “I’ve never heard that prayer before,” she said, eyes glistening. “Is it written down somewhere?”
“Jah, in the German prayer book.”
“In English, too?” Beth asked.
“I think so.” Hen wondered why she asked.
“First thing tomorrow, I’m going to write my healing prayer for your mommy.” Beth’s lower lip trembled. “When I look at her, it hurts me.”
“It’s very hard to see her suffer.” Hen got up and went to the door, pausing there in case Beth might say more. But Rose’s English friend simply closed her eyes, her hands still folded near her face, and for a moment, Hen had the feeling Beth was silently praying.
Something maternal stirred within her, seeing the innocent young woman with the mind of a child behave in such a trusting manner. A fleeting thought crossed her mind—someday she would love to have another baby. But with Brandon threatening divorce, the chance of another child seemed terribly remote . . . if not impossible.
Hen sighed as she made her way to the stairs. If only Brandon might come to know the Lord. Then we might see eye to eye. . . .
All the lanterns were still blazing when Rose and Silas arrived back at the barn. Yet the lights were nearly dim in comparison to the dazzling moon, and as Rose entered the upper level, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the contrast.
To her surprise, she noticed Rebekah standing alone near the stacked bales of hay, holding one of the white barn kittens close to her face. Rose hurried to see her and asked without thinking, “Do you need a ride back to Masts’?”
Rebekah’s eyes widened as she continued to pet the tiny cat. “Denki, that’d be right nice. But is it okay with Silas?”
Rose suddenly felt awkward about acknowledging Silas as her beau, yet few other conclusions could be drawn.
She looked back toward the open barn door. Silas stood there, watching her curiously. “Just a minute, I’ll see if he minds.” Rose went to him and asked quietly if they could give Rebekah a ride. “It’s too far and cold on foot, ain’t?”
He removed his black felt hat and did what he often did when he was ill at ease, pushing one hand through his thick blond hair. “No need for her to walk in the dark . . . no.”
“So it’s all right, then?”
“If ya want.”
She turned.
“Wait . . . Rose.” He paused, looking serious. “Next time ask me first, jah?”
She blushed with embarrassment. Never before had Silas spoken like that to her, although she realized now it was certainly warranted. She nodded, wishing she had waited to ask Rebekah till she’d seen how Silas felt about it. After all, he’d talked of wanting to ride together for a while—just the two of them—before taking Rose home tonight.
Rebekah smiled prettily
when Rose returned. She wasted no time falling into step with Rose, and the two of them followed Silas out of the barn. I best be minding my manners, thought Rose as Silas pushed his hat back on his head. I don’t want to displease my betrothed.
She watched Silas walk toward his horse and the open buggy. But his hat brim cast a shadow over his face, making it impossible to see if he actually was in agreement with her unusual request.
Chapter 9
Rose awakened the next day to find Beth sitting up in
bed, leaning against her pillow. She had been surprised and delighted to learn from Dat’s note last night that dear Beth would be staying with them for the week. Curious, she watched her friend whispering the words she’d evidently written in the blue spiral notebook on her lap. It sounded like a prayer. The more Rose observed her, the more she realized the phrases were well written . . . and that Mamm, surprisingly, was at the heart of what Beth had composed.
Unable to remain silent, Rose stirred to let Beth know she was awake, lest she be guilty of eavesdropping. “Did ya sleep all right, Beth?” she asked quietly, so as not to startle her.
Beth smiled sleepily. “I must’ve. . . . I feel wide-awake this morning.”
Rose sat up and pushed her own pillow against the headboard, then leaned back. “Was that a prayer you were reading?”
Beth nodded. “It’s a healing prayer.” She paused, fingering the notebook. “From my heart to God’s.”
Rose didn’t know what to say. For as often as she’d prayed in her life, she’d never written down a single one.
Beth closed her notebook. “Remember when we talked at my house about God?”
Rose hadn’t forgotten.
“You said He knows everything, even the day we are born . . . and the day we’ll die, too.” Beth looked at the ceiling for a moment. “Well, the very next day I wrote a letter to God about that.” She leaned forward and tilted her head to look outside at the sky from where she sat. “I’ve been talking that way to Him for a long time, mostly in my notebook pages.”
The Judgment Page 6