The Judgment

by Beverly Lewis

  “Unfortunately, we can’t stay long. We need to get back home to chores.”

  “Well, I’d be happy to show you around on another visit, perhaps.”

  Mandy smiled and nodded, and asked if there was a drinking fountain somewhere, which surprised Rose, knowing how shy Mandy usually was. All the while, Rose kept her eyes open, wondering for the life of her where Laura Esh had seen Nick the last time she was here.

  Mrs. Schaeffer directed them to an area where there was not only a water fountain but a soda pop and candy machine, too. “Help yourself to anything—it’s our treat,” Mrs. Schaeffer said, unlocking the machines to let them choose.

  After they’d enjoyed a soda, Rose slipped away to the restroom, down the maze of a hallway. Later, as she was heading back toward the snack room, she realized she was quite lost. Somehow, she’d made a wrong turn.

  Trying now to get her bearings, she noticed the back of a tall, slender young man dressed in blue jeans and a faded gray long-sleeve shirt, walking away from her down the long hallway. His stride and the tilt of his dark head made her think of Nick . . . except for the missing ponytail.

  But that quick, she remembered his long black hair had been cut off the day of Christian’s accident. She assumed that if this was indeed Nick, he was living here because he had nowhere else to go. Considering the circumstances, Rose wasn’t sure she ought to even try to get his attention.

  Best to leave him be. . . .

  Even so, her heart raced as memories of happier days together came rushing back. And because she was so curious, afraid she’d never know for sure, Rose mustered up her nerve. “Nick . . . Nick Franco?” she called.

  The young man stopped walking and turned, frowning. But in a second his familiar face broke into a slow smile and his haunting dark eyes brightened. “Rosie? Is that you?”

  She stood there in disbelief as he moved quickly toward her, the light from the window shining across his dear face. Oh, Nick. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Rose said, tears in her voice. Happy as the sight of him made her, she felt downright peculiar, unable to forget the cryptic confession in Nick’s burned-up note.

  And now, because of me, Christian is dead. . . .

  Nick’s eyes remained fixed on hers. “What’re ya doin’ here—so far from home?” he asked.

  “We brought Christmas gifts to the shelter, quilts and comforters.” Rose couldn’t keep her smile in check. “Goodness, ya still sound Amish to me.”

  He shook his head. “Not sure how that could be.”

  She looked into his face—this young man who’d caused so much trouble for the bishop and the People as a community.

  Nick unexpectedly reached for both her hands and pulled her into a small room. Closing the door, he grinned down at her. “I can’t believe you’re here, Rosie. I’ve missed ya so!”

  Softly, nearly in a whisper, she replied, “I miss you, too.” More than I dare say. “I found your note to me in the old tin box, Nick.” She raised her eyes to him.

  “I had a feeling ya might.”

  He’d written that very thing in his note. And as badly as she wished to know more about the scuffle between Nick and Christian that fateful day, she would not mention it. Not when this moment was so precious!

  Truth was, her heart went out to Nick as they stood together alone in the vacant room. What must it be like to have no place to call home—gone from the safety of the bishop’s house and farm. She fought back the lump in her throat.

  “I think about you all the time,” he said, studying her face.

  She was half scared to look at him, so near he was. It wouldn’t be right for her to reply the same, but it was true even so.

  “I hope you haven’t forgotten what I said in the ravine.” His eyes searched hers.

  She shook her head.

  “My Rosie,” he said and slipped his arms around her as fervently as he had the night they’d gone riding double on Pepper.

  Rose was torn right down the middle of her heart, thinking of her pledge to Silas Good. Yet why did she feel this happy, even content, in Nick’s arms?

  They quickly stepped apart and she looked up at him, no longer afraid. She was still overcome with amazement. Finally, she found her voice again. “Nick, are ya stayin’ here now?”

  He nodded.

  “Ach, I’m so sorry.”

  “No, no, don’t be.” He explained that he had a room there in exchange for helping with the homeless. “I also have a night job—savin’ up money, like I’ve been for some time. But I spend a lot of time here nearly every day.”

  She first felt surprise, then a sense of relief as she soaked up this news.

  “My way of showing some gratitude,” he said.

  Not understanding, she shook her head. “What do ya mean?”

  “My mother lived here for a while. Mrs. Schaeffer took care of her, till she . . .” He nodded awkwardly. “Helpin’ out now is the least I can do.”

  “Oh, Nick.”

  He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m awful glad to see you again.” He leaned toward her again, so very close.

  She was about to say more when she heard Mandy Esh calling to her out in the hall. “Rose Ann, can ya hear me? We best be goin’ now.”

  “I’ll be right there,” she called back quickly.

  Rose looked at Nick, worried now what Mandy might think of her being alone with him. Then, pulling the picture of his parents out of her pocket, she gave it to him. “I found this caught under your mattress when Barbara and I were clearin’ out your room. I brought it along today, just in case I saw you.” She paused, watching him look at it fondly. “I thought you’d want it.”

  “Denki.” He opened his wallet and placed it inside without explaining.

  She wanted to ask why he’d left it behind but dared not press the issue.

  “How’s my Amish Mamma?” he said. “I miss her sometimes. . . .” His fragile words trailed off.

  Rose scarcely knew what to say. Truth was, Barbara cared deeply for Nick, just as Rose did. And she would be heartened, too, to know Nick had asked about her. “Barbara struggles,” Rose said warily. “I know she misses you, too.”

  “Wish I could get word to her somehow.” Nick blinked hard and glanced away. “Tell her I’m doin’ all right. Will you do that for me?”

  Rose nodded. “I’d be happy to.” Then she heard Mandy calling louder. “I better go.” She reached for the door.

  Suddenly Nick clasped her hand. “You won’t forget me, will ya, Rosie?”

  The vision of Silas Good appeared before her. Oh, he’d be so hurt by all this endearing talk meant for someone other than himself.

  Knowing she could not answer Nick without feeling guilty later, Rose turned the doorknob and left the room.

  Moving into the hallway, she saw Mandy at the far end with her mother and sister and Leah Miller, their eyes accusing, or so it seemed. It was then Rose realized Nick had brazenly followed her out of the room. They were clearly upset at seeing him.

  They must be thinking, what’s Rose doing alone with Christian’s wicked brother?

  Perturbed yet sad, Rose glanced back to say a quick good-bye to Nick, but he was already gone. She guessed he was equally embarrassed, as well as wanting to spare her more distress. Still, her heart pounded in her ears.

  “Not a single day goes by that I don’t think of you,” Nick had said in the ravine the day he’d revealed his love.

  She shrugged off the memory, both pleasant and painful. Oh, the many things she’d wanted to tell him just now! But what she should’ve said was that he could help the bishop in a wonderful-good way, if he’d just return home and confess to the brethren before the New Year. If only he’d do that to help the dear man who’d raised him!

  Feeling panicked now, Rose wished she’d had time to give him that important message. Nick alone had the power to alter the course of their beloved bishop’s future ministry. And his life.

  Rose felt dej
ected and more alone than ever as she walked toward Mandy and the others.

  Chapter 23

  During the ride back, Rose was terribly distracted. She wasn’t good company for Leah Miller, who tried repeatedly to strike up a conversation. Rose didn’t mean to snub Leah, but she couldn’t stop thinking how miserable Nick had looked when she’d first spotted him. As if he carried all the weight of his past, present, and his future—what was left of it—on his shoulders. Just as he looked that first day at the bishop’s so long ago . . .

  But his face had changed when he’d turned to see her—lit up nearly like a full moon. Her heart had not ceased to sing for joy at the remembrance, despite the fact that Mandy and her family hadn’t made a single comment about his being there—or Rose’s impromptu encounter with him. Quiet as they were, she was fairly sure they were miffed that she’d had the gall to talk to someone so looked down upon by the People, yet supposedly forgiven. It was beyond her how confusing all of that was.

  To think he’s helping at the homeless shelter, Rose thought, still surprised. She wondered if Mamm might not see this as a sign that Nick wasn’t a bad seed after all. If she knew . . .

  An hour or so later, when the van pulled into her lane, Rose was surprised at Leah’s request to “stay and visit awhile.” Still feeling awkward about seeing Nick—and being caught doing so—Rose reluctantly agreed.

  She turned in her seat and asked the Eshes if they, too, would like to come in for something hot to drink. “It would cheer up Mamm.” But Laura piped up that they needed to get home to make dinner right quick. Rose assumed they were disgusted with her, and she’d never hear the end of it. Oh, the grapevine will swing fast now!

  When at last the van pulled away, Leah announced that she wanted to go to Christian’s grave but didn’t want to go alone. And because the cemetery wasn’t far from her father’s house, Rose understood why Leah had asked to be dropped off there. It made perfect sense.

  “I’ll go with ya, sure . . . but I’d like to see Mamm first, if ya don’t mind.” Rose invited her inside to have some hot cocoa, and as soon as she opened the back door, the delicious aroma of simmering corn chowder and baking biscuits welcomed them. Mammi Sylvia greeted her and Leah, then pushed more wood into the belly of the cookstove.

  Rose wanted to make up for being so detached during the ride home from Philly, so she invited Leah to sit at the table and offered her warm carrot cookies to nibble on. Then she scurried off to look in on Mamm. Seeing Hen there and that Mamm was resting, Rose soon returned to the kitchen, where she made hot cocoa for herself and Leah.

  Mammi Sylvia seemed happy to see Rose visiting with a friend, and invited Leah to stay for dinner, “perty soon now.”

  Leah accepted right away but whispered to Rose that she still wanted to go to the cemetery before leaving for home. Rose suggested they go as soon as they’d warmed up a bit, and Leah agreed, her soft brown eyes suddenly sad at the prospect of visiting her deceased beau’s grave.

  The occasional gusts were chilling as Rose and Leah walked down the road toward the old Amish cemetery. Black crows flew low overhead, and from the distance came the howl of a dog. A long strand of Leah’s brown hair had come loose on one side, flapping against her black outer bonnet. Rose wondered how her own hair looked now . . . and when Nick had seen her. Had she looked as disheveled as the times they’d gone riding together? The thought gave her a hankering to go and get Pepper from the bishop’s stable and take him out riding, maybe tonight. A gallop in the brisk air might help set her straight—brush the cobwebs of Nick Franco out of her head.

  Rose breathed deeply, glad she’d worn layers beneath her woolen shawl, just as Leah had, having borrowed an extra sweater from the wooden kitchen pegs.

  As they went, Leah began to talk about Christian, recalling him so fondly Rose tried not to cry. “Was it hard for you, seein’ Nick today?” Rose asked somewhat tentatively as they skirted the shoulder of the road.

  “Oh, something awful.” Leah’s breath hung in the frigid air. She looked askance at Rose. “Let me be plainspoken with you: Nick just isn’t for you, Rose—but surely ya know that.”

  Rose was astonished. So was this why Leah had asked her to go to the cemetery—to speak her mind?

  “The People are concerned, after what happened to Christian and all. ’Tween me and you, surely you won’t be takin’ up with him again. ’Specially now that he’s looking so awful fancy.”

  Rose spouted before thinking, “Philly’s a long way from here, ain’t so?”

  “But I’m worried, Rose.” Leah looked at her skeptically and shook her head as the black strings on her candlesnuffer bonnet blew over her shoulders. “I saw how happy Nick was to see ya. And you looked mighty pleased, too.”

  Rose couldn’t deny that. But for Leah to try to lessen the memory of that for her made Rose feel even more defensive.

  “There’s more,” said Leah. “I don’t mean to alarm you or worry you, though.”

  Rose clenched her toes in her shoes. “May as well tell me everything,” she said, resigned to whatever might come.

  “Christian knew something about Nick that would keep him from ever joining church,” Leah said.

  Rose’s interest was sparked, given that Christian had been so anxious to talk to her that one afternoon . . . and then died before she had the chance to hear what was on his mind. Had he shared that with Leah?

  “It was the reason they went riding that terrible day . . . so Christian could try ’n’ get Nick to give up his plan.”

  Rose cringed. “What plan?”

  “Nick was getting his GED on the sly.”

  Rose was stunned. “Was Christian sure?”

  “Oh, absolutely. He thought you should know, since higher education would seal Nick’s fate—as being outside the Amish community, I mean.”

  Rose felt sad and didn’t know what to say.

  “Would you have continued your friendship with him if you’d known?”

  “What’re you askin’?”

  Leah looked chagrined. “I mean, would you have been so happy to see him today, for instance?”

  “If I’d known he was working toward something considered worldly?”

  Leah nodded. “Precisely.”

  Rose couldn’t answer that. She’d never held high hopes for Nick’s becoming a baptized church member, come to think of it. Secretly, though, she’d wished he might . . . but that was long ago.

  Leah continued as they turned into the path leading to the cemetery. “Christian really wanted you to know. I guess he thought Nick was sweet on ya.”

  Rose felt strange knowing the pair had talked about her. She told Leah she’d encountered Christian on the road, “a day before he died.” She paused a moment. “It was peculiar, really. He was running alongside my horse and buggy. But I was so busy to get home, I disregarded his request to stop and talk. I’ve been kickin’ myself ever since.”

  “That was prob’ly it, then. Christian said it weighed heavy on his mind . . . that it just wasn’t right for you not to know.”

  Rose sighed. “Well, did Christian ever tell you flat-out what he thought about Nick’s and my friendship?”

  “Only that he thought you must be the dearest girl.”

  Rose didn’t understand.

  “To put up with the likes of Nick,” added Leah.

  Rose wouldn’t say what she was thinking. The fact was, if folk had given Nick a chance—given him the time of day—they would’ve known how gentle he really was. Had she and Barbara been the only ones to see that?

  Nick had good traits—so once had Christian. She walked with Leah solemnly through the rows of small white tombstones, all alike. Leah’s forthright remarks made it seem as though Christian had somehow spoken a warning from the grave.

  She stood next to Leah as they stared down at the still-fresh plot where the bishop’s son’s hand-built coffin had been lowered and buried weeks ago. Christian may have fought for pecking-order rights with Nick thos
e many years, but he’d always been kind to Rose.

  He cared enough to try to tell me of Nick’s worldly ambitions.

  Rose felt awful about ignoring Christian’s plea to talk to her that day. She also considered what she knew now of Nick. Drawing a deep breath, she felt as though something precious was dying in her . . . and she was helpless to revive it.

  After supper that evening, Dat remained seated at the head of the table while Rose washed and dried the dishes. It was a rare occasion when her father stayed put following a meal. Usually he headed right back out to the barn or his woodshop for a couple hours before time for devotions. “Is something on your mind?” She glanced over her shoulder and stacked the clean plates into the cupboard.

  “I have a confession to make.” He shifted in his chair and turned to look at her. His cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the cookstove. “I’m very concerned that you make a wise choice in marriage.”

  Rose couldn’t help but wonder if Hen’s marital troubles were plaguing his mind. How could they not be?

  She stopped drying the handful of utensils, unsure what to expect.

  “I hardly know how to tell ya, Rosie. But I feel you should know.”

  “Know what, Dat?”

  She recalled his stern warning about staying away from the likes of the bishop’s foster son. Had he heard of her encounter with Nick? But how could that be? It was just this morning.

  “Reuben Good told me some time ago he’d move heaven and earth to have Silas stay in the area to find a wife.” Dat drew a long breath.

  “He told ya that?” Rose let out a sigh. Nick was not the topic. Yet what was this talk of Silas? It was hard to believe, but because Dat and Reuben were good friends, this shouldn’t come as too big a surprise.

  Dat seemed reluctant to go on. “He told me he was beginning to worry . . . downright discouraged at the thought of Silas thinkin’ about an out-of-state girl.”

  Silas’s father knew about his interest in Rebekah? Rose was flabbergasted.