The Judgment

by Beverly Lewis

  She’d never heard a man speak so rudely to her father. And she was growing increasingly worried that Mattie Sue would catch her death of cold outside. Maybe her daughter had made her way over to the main house. Hen hoped and prayed that was so.

  “My wife knows exactly what she has to do to patch things up,” Brandon spouted.

  “I see.”

  Brandon shrugged. “For starters, tell her to practice her Amish upbringing.”

  “So you do want her to act more Amish, then?”

  Brandon sputtered, apparently caught off guard. He glanced at Hen. “Well, she could listen to her husband, for one thing.”

  “If you were a God-fearing man, I’d have to agree with that.” Dad stared at Brandon, and Hen felt terribly uncomfortable. “Meanwhile, till that happens, I suggest you take yourself on home and leave my granddaughter be to say her bedtime prayers.”

  Standing up, Brandon looked anything but whipped. He shot a look of defiance at Hen. “Better get that lawyer lined up. I’ll see you in court.” With that, he paused, staring at her clothes. “And if I never have to see you wearing such a dowdy dress again, Hen . . . well, it’ll be too soon.”

  Hen waited till Brandon left the house, then fell into her father’s arms, thanking him again and again. “The Lord must’ve sent you over here, Dad.”

  “Jah, the Lord and Rosie,” he replied. “Your sister spotted the car and was concerned for you. Now, let’s find out where that clever daughter of yours ran off to.”

  “Oh, poor Mattie Sue . . .” Hen walked with her father to the back door.

  “What’s this ’bout getting yourself a lawyer?” he asked solemnly.

  She wasn’t surprised he’d bring that up. “I don’t want to lose my daughter. I’ve decided to fight for her in court.”

  Her father eyed her, visibly concerned. “Well, now, are ya trusting in yourself, or in our sovereign Lord?”

  Immediately, Hen felt convicted. There was nothing she could say that would change Dad’s mind. Yet wasn’t she responsible under God to do everything in her power to keep her child far from the world? Just as Dad tried to keep me in the community of the People . . . before I eloped.

  Chapter 21

  Sunday morning, after the breakfast dishes were rinsed and stacked to be washed, Rose heard a knock at the back door. She moved quickly to see who was there, since English neighbors were the only ones who typically ever knocked.

  Sure enough, it was Donna Becker—a bright picture to behold in her long red coat and matching gloves. But Rose’s heart sank, because Donna looked quite solemn for such a sunny day. “Excuse my loud colors,” Donna whispered. “It’s my warmest coat.”

  “ ’ Tis all right.” Rose held her breath; she guessed why Donna had come. “Perhaps we should talk out here . . . on the porch.” Beth and Mattie Sue were somewhere inside the house, playing together.

  “Beth’s grandfather passed away in the night,” said Donna. “Gilbert called just a while ago.”

  “How very sad for Mr. Browning . . . and Beth.” Rose touched the top of Donna’s gloved hand.

  “It might be good if you’re the one to tell her,” Donna suggested with a faint smile. “You know Beth better than I do.”

  “Jah, gut idea.” Rose glanced toward the kitchen, wondering if Mammi Sylvia was still sitting with Mamm. “Will Mr. Browning return for Beth . . . to take her to the funeral?”

  “I asked the same thing, and evidently Beth does not do well in large gatherings. Besides, it’s a long ways for Gilbert to come for her.”

  “Understandable,” Rose whispered.

  “So he’ll stay on for at least another few days, if not a week. He said he’d call again after the funeral and let us know when he plans to return.”

  Rose nodded. “When he does, please let him know Beth’s doin’ fine here. Tell him to take his time.” She just couldn’t imagine the man’s grief . . . losing first his wife and now his father, too.

  “I got the feeling his mother will need a bit of looking after. His father had been doing so for some time, as I understand it.”

  Rose had heard the same. “How sad the dear woman is ailing so and is now a widow, too.” She thought suddenly of Mamm. “Would ya like to come in and have some hot tea or cocoa?”

  “No, no . . . just wanted to drop by and let you know the latest news.” Donna sighed and gave a small smile. “Bless you for taking care of Beth.”

  “No trouble at all.”

  “I’m happy to help out, if necessary.”

  “Denki.” Rose smiled and nodded her head. “And, Donna, rest assured I’ll break this to Beth very gently.”

  Donna blinked back tears, patting her face with her red glove. “Beth is such a fragile flower, poor thing. I hope she doesn’t take this too hard.”

  Rose watched Donna turn and make her way out to her car parked near the walkway. Opening the door to the screen porch, Rose stood on the steps, shivering with the cold . . . and sorrow. Oh, she wished she didn’t have such heartbreaking news to tell dear, dear Beth!

  Hen had encouraged Mattie Sue to play quietly this Lord’s Day morning. So, after breakfast, when Mattie asked to go over to Mammi Emma’s to see Beth, Hen was happy to oblige, thankful for some time alone.

  From the moment she had awakened, Hen felt ready to return to bed, unable to sleep as she had been for hours last night. Her head throbbed with the pressure of Brandon’s harsh words, which still plagued her. His comment about her Plain dress stung her heart. How could she forgive him?

  Now she sat on the small sofa in the front room of her little house, her legs curled up beneath her long green dress and black apron. Brandon had stated that he’d see her in court, and after the events of last night, Hen was afraid he would indeed push things that far. Brandon wasn’t one to make idle threats—she knew that much from his business dealings.

  This same man had wooed her away from her family and the Plain life so easily. She had yearned for the forbidden fruit of the English life as a teen and gotten what she thought she wanted in Brandon. Bitter anguish poured from her soul as Hen wept. And remembering the heartache she’d caused her parents, she cried all the harder.

  The memory of little Mattie Sue running next door to find shelter last night, when Brandon had come to take her, shook Hen to the core. Rose, too, had reported being terribly upset to find Mattie Sue wearing only a nightgown in such cold weather. Fortunately, Rose warmed her up by the fire, then put her to bed with Beth and kept her there till Dat and Hen came over later.

  After Brandon left . . .

  Hen gave in to sobs, crying away her woes. Finally, she dried her eyes and straightened her dress in case Mattie Sue returned and found her in a miserable heap. She looked around, aware of God’s provision for her and Mattie Sue, here in this restful house. She prayed for wisdom in acquiring a lawyer and for peace to know she was making a choice that was pleasing to God. Yet she knew in her heart that what would please Him most would be to salvage her marriage, even now. Impossible as things seem . . .

  Reaching for her Bible, Hen opened to Psalm forty-two. As she read, the last verse caught her eye and pulled tenderly on her heart. Hope thou in God. . . . With a catch in her breath, she embraced the loving instruction from her heavenly Father.

  Leaving the Bible open on the sofa to the beautiful verse, Hen rose to put on her shawl, ready to go next door to see her dear, discouraged mother.

  Rose Ann watched Donna Becker back slowly out of the lane and contemplated the sad news she must tell Beth. With a silent prayer for guidance, Rose returned to the house. She followed the sounds of Mattie Sue’s expressive voice, such a contrast to Beth’s low monotone, and found them upstairs in Rose’s own room. The two of them were perched on the bed playing school.

  “C’mon, Mattie Sue,” Beth was saying. “You’ve never been to school before. Not even to preschool. Have you?”

  “But I still want to be the teacher,” Mattie Sue insisted, her arms crossed. “Can’t
you be the teacher next time?”

  Evidently not to be outdone, Beth turned away and looked out the window.

  “Beth?”

  Still staring, Beth didn’t move.

  “Aren’t you listening?”

  Beth whirled around. “I’m not your plaything to boss around!”

  Mattie Sue began to pout. “But I really want to be the teacher.”

  Beth frowned as Mattie Sue continued her sulk, looking as though she might even squeeze out a tear. Rose found the girls’ interaction fascinating, so she held back, not interrupting.

  Four stuffed animals sat on the bed, propped against the footboard, while Rose’s library books were open before them. The girls seemed to have already planned out the items they would need for their school.

  “Here’s what we can do,” Beth said finally. “I’ll help you teach, since I know a lot about school.”

  Immediately, Mattie Sue brightened. “You’ll help me?”

  Beth handed her two books. “First, you need to give the students an assignment from these books.”

  “What about circle time? My friend Karen says it’s real fun. They sit in a circle and talk about the weather and other things.”

  “Never heard of that,” Beth replied.

  “Sometimes Karen gets to be the weather helper and put up pictures of suns and rain on a special calendar. Let’s start with circle time today.”

  Beth shrugged, disinterested. “Doesn’t sound like the kind of school I went to.”

  Rose could see this exchange was headed for yet another conflict. She knocked on the door and stepped into the room. “Sorry to interrupt your class, girls, but I need to talk to Beth alone . . . just for a little while.”

  Her niece frowned, eyes blinking. “It’s circle time right now, Aendi Rosie.”

  “I see that,” said Rose, hoping Mattie Sue would quickly comply. “But I need to talk to Beth now, honey.”

  “Can we play some more . . . afterward?”

  Beth looked at Rose; her face was serene, but her eyes had a knowing look. “Is my grandpa worse?” Her lower lip quivered.

  “Mattie Sue,” said Rose a bit more firmly, taking her niece by the hand and leading her into the hallway. She leaned down and kissed her face. “Go on down and sit with Mammi Emma for a minute, won’t ya?” Just then, she heard the back door open and Hen calling. “Your mommy’s downstairs,” Rose said.

  Mattie Sue looked up and hurried off.

  Perfect timing!

  Rose could hear Beth already crying softly, and she went to her side and slipped her arm around her shoulder. Together, they moved toward the window and stood there looking out at the brilliantly blue sky. “I will not leave you comfortless, the Lord promises us,” Rose said, paraphrasing the Scripture verse. She turned to look at Beth, whose pitiful, tear-streaked face made Rose feel like crying, too. “Your grandpa’s pain is past now, Beth. He won’t ever have to struggle again with the cares of this life.” Her voice broke.

  Beth covered her face with her hands and cried. Rose drew her into her embrace, holding her as she might her own sister.

  “He’s with the Lord now, Beth,” she whispered.

  “But Grandma’s all alone” came the fretful remark, through more tears.

  Rose stroked her short hair. “God will take care of her, just as we’re takin’ care of you.”

  “But we’ll move far away, Rosie. I just know it.”

  She released Beth, still holding her thin hands, and she looked into her childlike face. “Can you trust the Lord for that? He does all things well,” she said. “That’s another promise from the Bible . . . ya know?”

  “I just don’t want to leave you, Rosie . . . my best friend.”

  This tugged at Rose’s heartstrings. “Come here, sweet girl.” She opened her arms once again and held Beth near.

  Solomon helped Bishop Aaron stack hay in his loft all day Monday. All the lifting and heaving of bales was taking its toll on his back muscles. He’d stayed longer than usual, offering to shovel feed to the heifers, too.

  But Aaron was ready to call it a day. “Tired as I am, I think I’ll go to the cemetery after a bit,” Aaron told him as they walked through the barnyard, toward the house. “Just feel the need tonight.”

  “I’d go with ya, but I ought to be getting back to Emma.” Sol looked over at his house; the downstairs windows were flickering squares of gold. “Honestly, I’m afraid she’ll pass over Jordan, and I won’t be nearby to say good-bye.”

  “No, it’s only farewell, Sol. You’ll see her again, when God calls ya home.” The bishop smiled briefly, then shuffled toward the back porch. They stood there solemnly in the deepening twilight, and Sol offered his handshake to his friend. “You must miss Christian something awful.”

  Aaron clasped his hand. “Every day.” He sighed loudly. “Even worse is goin’ into the house and seeing Barbara crying alone, her Bible open in front of her on the table.”

  Sol’s heart went out to both of them. He grabbed Aaron’s arm and pulled him into a strong clench, like a father might a wounded boy. “ ‘The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart,’ ” Sol quoted the verse quietly.

  “Jah . . . jah.” The bishop nodded in agreement. “He surely is that.”

  “God be with ya, Aaron.”

  “And with you, Sol.”

  Just that quickly, they parted ways. Aaron moseyed up the back stoop of his house, and Sol headed toward the path his booted feet had created through the years. It was a single narrow strip of dirt, somewhat akin to a mule lane leading to the fields—his own passage to a kindly friend. Sol had walked it without a lantern on many moonless nights, trusting his feet to find their way, much as the horses followed the groove they’d made in the barnyard leading to the stable and back.

  But this particular night, having heard his bishop’s heart-rending lament, the old dirt path seemed darker and longer to Sol than ever before.

  Chapter 22

  Nick kept coming to mind as Rose prepared to go to Philadelphia Thursday morning. She felt almost giddy at the thought of traveling to such a big city, taking the gift of comforters and quilts to struggling folk so close to Christmas. But more than that, she secretly hoped to find out something about Nick. Had he fallen prey to the same addiction as his alcoholic mother? If so, how very sad.

  When the van pulled into the lane, Rose saw Leah Miller sitting in the second seat, and Rose soon found herself settled in next to Leah, while the Esh sisters and their mother sat behind them in the third seat. Up front, the gentleman driver sat alone, as was typical when it was only womenfolk traveling with a hired driver.

  Once they passed through rural Bart and were heading east on Route 30—“leading to the metropolis,” as Leah cheerfully referred to Philadelphia—Rose was astonished at how fast they were going. She had never, ever felt like she was flying before. It was one thing to ride with Hen in her car to the Quarryville library and around the back roads, but this . . . this was nearly frightening. She heard the tires whirring against the highway and could just imagine how fast they were spinning.

  She watched out the window, amazed at the number of cars speeding past. Mandy and her sister Linda, in the seat behind her, also remarked about the hustle and bustle all around them. “Busier than usual,” said Mandy.

  “Well, Christmas is near,” Rose remarked, and Mandy agreed.

  In spite of the rapid pace, the trip seemed to drag on for Rose. Was she simply anxious to see the city where Nick had lived before coming to Salem Road? Many of the neighborhood streets seemed nearly as narrow as Cherry Hill Road, and the redbrick houses were all strung out in a line, exactly the way Nick had once described the row houses. Cars were parked nearly bumper to bumper along the curb, and red-bowed wreaths decorated several of the front doors. An occasional Santa statue sat on the small landings at the top of the stoops.

  There were street signs, too many to count, and corner stores advertising beer and cigarettes, men loiterin
g out front.

  So this is “the edge” Nick loved. . . .

  She recalled something he’d said, years ago—how he was so sure English kids must have exciting lives compared to theirs. “On the farm, everything’s the same boring thing, each and every day,” he’d said with a faraway look in his eyes.

  She’d studied him with great concern; he must’ve seen the worry registered in her eyes.

  “Don’t brain me,” he’d laughingly said.

  But she hadn’t found it funny that day, just as she didn’t feel settled right now, riding so far past the edge of the imaginary line between Amish farmland and the modern city. Deep into the heart of the place named for “Brotherly Love.”

  To soothe herself, Rose thought of home—she was glad her father had assented to her leaving for a few hours. Hen and Mammi Sylvia were looking after Mamm, and Dat would be working hard to repair the deacon’s old market wagon about now, grateful for the sunshine on a cold day. Bone-chilling as it was, though, Rose knew for certain that she much preferred riding in a horse and buggy to going so awful fast.

  You can have your big city, Nick, she thought with a grimace as the van turned into the small parking lot behind the homeless shelter.

  Never before had Rose seen such grateful recipients. Mrs. Schaeffer, the middle-aged brunette woman in charge of the shelter, smiled warmly and thanked them repeatedly as she exclaimed over the fine handiwork and the bright colors. “There’s nothing quite like a handmade Amish quilt,” she said. “Is there?”

  Leah smiled so broadly, she covered her mouth for a moment, peering at Rose as they stood in the hallway.

  “We’ll prob’ly come again the end of January or so,” Laura Esh told the woman. She explained how the quilters got together every Thursday.

  “Really, now? You might be interested to know there’s a quilting club just up the street.” Mrs. Schaeffer pointed in the direction. “Over there at the old Methodist church. They call themselves the Dorcas Circle.” Then she asked if they’d like a tour of the shelter, and Laura shook her head apologetically.