The Judgment

by Beverly Lewis

  They thanked the woman kindly and made their way outside to hail the driver and to head home. On the ride back, the two men talked quietly, lest the driver overhear their concerns.

  Sol tried to soften the blow of a college-bound Nick by pointing out that perhaps some of the important things Aaron had taught Nick had, in fact, stuck. “Though as far as helpin’ at the shelter goes, who knows what Nick was really thinking,” Sol said as an afterthought. “It might’ve seemed like penance for whatever went on with Christian, ya know.”

  Slowly, the bishop nodded. “I wondered that, too.”

  “Emma’s said in the past that Barbara thought Nick had a soft spot for children and older folk. Maybe he also had a caring side toward those less fortunate.”

  “Could be,” said Aaron, clearly deep in thought.

  The closer they got to Salem Road, the more Sol presumed the chances of getting Nick to return home and join the church were slim to nothing—not if he was bent on enrolling in college, as Mrs. Schaeffer had said. No, once an Amishman got a taste of higher education, it was pretty much over as far as ever again getting his attention for God and the church.

  Hen felt compelled to get the afternoon mail before Rose did. Intending to take Mamm’s circle letters to her, as those usually arrived on Saturday, Hen was shocked to see a letter with Brandon’s return address on the envelope.

  Not waiting until she was inside, she opened it quickly.

  Dear Hannah,

  I’ve finished up the paperwork to get our divorce and the custody complaint under way. Unless you’ve acquired your own lawyer, you will be expected to come to my brother Lawrence’s office to fill out financial information and meet with the psychologist next Friday, December 20. Dr. Greta Schmidt has been assigned to evaluate both of us, beginning with you. She will also assess Mattie Sue to determine the best custodial arrangement for our daughter, since this has become an obvious and irresolvable conflict.

  Sincerely,

  Brandon

  Dismayed, Hen stumbled back to the Dawdi Haus, putting off delivering the two circle letters for Mamm until she could pull herself together.

  So Brandon had meant what he said, moving ahead just as he’d threatened and asking his brother Lawrence to handle the legal matters. And even though she had guessed at what he would do, the reality didn’t hurt any less.

  Indoors, she kissed Mattie Sue’s sweet head, and commented on the pretty coloring page of butterflies she was filling in at the kitchen table. Her daughter’s toy puppy, Foofie, sat next to the box of crayons. “I can’t wait to see your picture when you’re all done, honey.”

  “Do ya like it, Mommy?”

  “Very much.”

  Mattie Sue looked up at her. “I’ll color another page for Daddy, too. Okay?”

  “That’s very nice of you.” Her tongue felt frozen, but she managed to say she was going upstairs for a little while.

  Lost in her art, Mattie Sue nodded and continued coloring.

  In her room, Hen tried to read the letter again, struggling to see the words for her tears.

  Custody complaint?

  The words pointed fingers, accusing her of being an unfit mother. Perhaps that was precisely what Brandon was hoping to prove. But how? He knew that she was anything but unloving or unfit. Just because she embraced a simple lifestyle, did that make her incapable in his eyes? Did he really think he could rip Mattie Sue away from her because she wanted to live a Plain and peaceful life, one pleasing to God?

  “Will the powers that be rule in Brandon’s favor?” Hen carried the letter to her dresser and slipped it into the drawer as fear took hold of her. “Next Friday . . . just five days before Christmas,” she whispered. “What would happen if I just didn’t show up?”

  Before Rose served the supper of pork chops and scalloped potatoes that evening, Dat came in to wash his hands at the sink, looking repeatedly at her. Something’s on his mind, she thought. Moving away from the table, where she had been setting out the utensils, she went to the kitchen counter. Was it about Nick?

  She had seen Dat and the bishop get into a van together early this morning. They had been away for several hours, so she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d gone to Philly.

  Dat turned his attention back to lathering his hands, and when he said nothing at all, Rose awkwardly resumed her work preparing for supper. Leah’s words spun round in her head, but she dismissed them, knowing she dared not ask Dat about that.

  All through the meal, it seemed peculiar how her father occasionally looked her way but said nothing. Apparently he was thinking about something important.

  Did the bishop talk Nick into returning? Rose wondered, worried and hopeful both.

  That night, in the wee hours, Rose was awakened by the sound of sniffling. When she opened her eyes, she saw Beth kneeling beside the bed, praying. Rose groggily got up and went around the bed to Beth, whose short hair fell forward in the darkness of the room, hiding her face. “Beth, honey . . . what is it?” Rose knelt next to her. “Are you thinking ’bout your grandpa?”

  Beth shook her head, then sighed softly. “I had another dream,” she said between breaths. “Oh, Rosie, it was so real . . . like I was right there. I could see everything so clearly.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Not just yet.”

  “Did you dream about someone we both know?”

  Beth nodded. “Your mother.” She paused. “But I want to write down everything I remember in my notebook.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Beth agreed. “You can read it if you want.”

  Concerned as she felt, Rose did not press further, uncertain how Beth might react. Still, she couldn’t help but recall what Beth had once told her—that sometimes her dreams about people dying came true.

  Rose put her arm around Beth as they prayed silently together. She comforted the young woman and wished for someone to comfort her in that moment. Beth’s slender shoulders moved with her quiet whimpers, and it touched Rose deeply that she cared so much for Mamm. She’d never witnessed such a close connection in someone who wasn’t kin.

  After a time, she helped Beth back to bed. When Beth was settled again, Rose crept downstairs and stood at the back door, gazing out at the sky, alight with stars. There, she whispered the question that now weighed so heavily on her heart: “O Lord, are you preparing us for Mamm’s heavenly Homegoing . . . at Christmas?”

  Chapter 26

  The first snowfall of the season came like fine white dust that Lord’s Day morning, drifting drowsily from a gray sky. There was not the slightest hint of wind, and Rose felt almost as if she were floating upward from her vantage point at the bedroom window. The strange sensation lasted but a moment, just until she looked away to regain her equilibrium.

  Rose had awakened to muffled crying as it seeped through the wall from the attached Dawdi Haus. At first, the sound startled her, because she’d thought she was dreaming, but sadly, she was not. Hen had been sobbing her heart out, and Rose could only assume what might be causing her dear sister such heartache. Must be Brandon. What else could it be?

  As it turned out, Hen didn’t come over for breakfast before Preaching service, nor did she stop in to see Mamm after Hen and the family returned, following the common meal. Rose spent the entire afternoon reading aloud from the New Testament while her mother flitted back and forth between sleep and wakefulness.

  Dat had spent an hour away from Mamm, over at the bishop’s house talking with Deacon Esh and the two preachers from their church district. Rose had seen the men arrive, their driving horses familiar to her. Because of the sudden meeting, she prayed that whatever was happening there might above all benefit their wonderful-good bishop.

  Before it was time to prepare a light supper, Mammi Sylvia and Dawdi Jeremiah came over to sit with Mamm. Mattie Sue wandered over from next door, too, asking for Beth, who was still upstairs resting.

  “Is she sick?” her niece asked.


  “No, honey . . . just napping.” Rose didn’t explain that Beth had been awake for a while in the night due to a vivid dream.

  “Can I see if she’s up yet?” Mattie Sue persisted.

  “She’ll be down soon, I’m sure.”

  Mattie Sue turned and went into the kitchen, and Rose followed her. She wanted to make some paper chains, so Rose found some construction paper Mamm always kept on hand in a cupboard for the grandchildren’s visits.

  “I think Mommy’s sick,” Mattie Sue said quietly, not looking at Rose. “She cries a lot.”

  “Aw, honey . . .” Rose went and sat on the long bench beside her at the table.

  “She misses Daddy. I know she does.” Mattie leaned her head against Rose’s arm. “And I do, too.”

  “Of course ya do.” Rose patted Mattie’s head and hugged her. Then she went to the drawer where Mamm kept some blunt-edged scissors. “Do you want to cut the paper strips for your chain?”

  Mattie nodded and began to cut as Rose set out the makings for a simple cold supper. From time to time, her niece looked up to watch the snow coming down, faster now, in much heavier flakes, nearly weighty enough to make a sound when they landed on the roof. “Can bein’ sad make you feel sick, Aendi Rosie?” asked Mattie Sue, dispelling the silence.

  Rose pondered that as she put down a plate of cheese slices and a bowl of a sandwich spread consisting of minced green tomatoes, peppers, celery, and onions, mixed with mayonnaise and a little mustard. Dat especially liked this quick way to make a sandwich or two, especially on Sunday evenings. “I s’pose if a person cried a lot, they could get a tummy ache. Is that what ya mean, Mattie?”

  “No. Mommy’s so awful sad she can’t sleep at night.”

  Rose worried that Hen’s sobbing had perhaps awakened Mattie.

  “I pray for her . . . don’t you?”

  Rose said she did. “Every morning and night, and plenty of times in between.”

  “Do you pray for Daddy, too?”

  Rose couldn’t say that she had lately. “Your mommy prays for him, though, doesn’t she?”

  “Sometimes.” Mattie’s eyes were serious. “I hear her after she tucks me in bed. She doesn’t know it, but I pray for Daddy then, too . . . in my bed, while I hold Foofie.”

  Rose smiled. “God hears you when you pray, sweetie. I know that for sure.”

  Later, when Beth came downstairs, her eyes looked bright, compared to how droopy she’d looked in church. Rose had noticed Beth dozing off during the sermons, her head bobbing repeatedly. She didn’t dare ask if she’d written about her dream yet, because she didn’t want to bring it up in front of Mattie Sue. Her poor niece didn’t need anything more on her mind.

  Rose hadn’t stopped thinking about it, though. She hoped to look at Beth’s notebook later tonight, after returning from the Singing—and her buggy ride with Silas. The thought of that did not bring the usual joy.

  What if I just stayed home tonight? Would Silas even notice?

  It was Dat who insisted on taking Rose to Singing and dropping her off. On the short ride over to the barn gathering, Dat mentioned that Nick Franco no longer lived at the homeless shelter, where she’d seen him.

  She couldn’t help but frown.

  Dat sat tall at the reins. But he didn’t offer an explanation, which surprised her.

  She also wondered what it meant that Nick had left the shelter. “Do ya think he’ll come home, maybe?”

  “That’s unlikely now.”

  She had to agree, what with Nick’s past behavior. He was like a crow feather fluttering in the wind. Here . . . then gone. “I’m sorry ya went all that way for nothin’.”

  “Ain’t your fault, Rosie. How could you know?”

  “He must’ve gotten jumpy about seein’ all of us there, maybe.”

  “No, I don’t think that had anything to do with it.” Dat ran his fingers over his lips. “He’s headin’ for higher education, Rose Ann. I hate to tell ya.”

  “What?” Hearing this made her feel off-kilter . . . and unsettled in the stomach. Mattie Sue’s remark rang in her head: “Can bein’ sad make you feel sick?” And yet Rose wondered at this news. Hadn’t Leah said he was pursuing his GED even before leaving for Philly? Maybe this had been a part of his plan. All along.

  Rose stared at the golden spots of distant light coming from the large bank barn where the Singing was to take place. Once, years before, she had felt flickers of excitement as she arrived, wondering just who might invite her to ride home after the gathering. And more recently—since September—an even stronger quiver after Silas Good’s letter had come inviting her to go with him.

  Tonight, however, she almost dreaded going. She thanked Dat for bringing her and even had a momentary urge to lean over and kiss his cheek—something she rarely did—because he seemed so downtrodden. And she somehow felt his sullenness was her doing, since she’d told of seeing Nick.

  If only I hadn’t breathed a word.

  “Have yourself a nice time, Rose.”

  “Denki,” she replied as she got down from the carriage. Beth’s recent dream came unexpectedly to mind then, but she hadn’t had the heart to bring it up to Dat during the ride here, or before now. Even so, the dear Lord surely had her mother, and all of them—including poor, sad Hen and missing Nick—in the palm of His loving hand. Nothing was going to happen to any of them that was a surprise to their heavenly Father.

  Rose was hardly in the mood to sing the “fast” songs typical of their barn gatherings, but she sang anyway. Her heart wasn’t in mingling with the other courting-age young folk between songs, either, but she put on a pleasant face and mingled anyway.

  Usually, Silas didn’t sit across from her at the long table, nor did he tonight. Instead, she ended up across from Cousin Melvin Kauffman’s younger brother Noah, who’d just turned sixteen and seemed exceptionally pleased to be present for his first ever Singing. Rose waved casually at Leah Miller, who’d just started coming again, no matter that she must still struggle with mourning Christian.

  Yet even though Silas sat down the table from her a ways, Rose was very much aware of him. They traded furtive glances, Silas’s expression questioning, as if he’d noticed her somber mood. Thankfully Rebekah was nowhere to be seen, and Rose started to feel more relaxed. With the twins to care for, most likely Rebekah would not be coming to the youth gatherings for many weeks, if not months.

  Later, when the fast songs were finished, the fellows started to blend with the girls. Silas caught Rose’s eye and gave her a warm smile. She nodded and even smiled back, hoping the night might end up better than she’d anticipated. Who was to say that Silas didn’t love her?

  Just then, the big barn door slid open and in walked Rebekah Bontrager. She appeared shy at first, glancing about as if she wasn’t sure of herself. Then, spotting Rose with several of her girl cousins, Rebekah waved. One of the cousins invited her over warmly, and Rebekah greeted them all, looking somewhat relieved.

  The merry buzz of fellows talking with their prospective dates filled the bank barn, punctuated by the occasional bellow of a cow in the lower level. Some of the young men had briefly opened the outside door in the haymow, as well as the main door, bringing in some nice, cold fresh air.

  Rose was aware of Silas’s gaze in her direction as she and her Kauffman cousins talked with Rebekah. Returning his smile, Rose waved discreetly back to him. Then, just as Silas seemed about to make his move toward her, the cousins disbanded, leaving Rose alone with Rebekah.

  Reaching for Rose’s hands, Rebekah said, “Silas says the two of you are planning to tie the knot next year.” She kept her voice low.

  “That’s right.” Rose looked around for Silas, but he must’ve stepped outside. “You’ll keep it to yourself, jah?”

  “I promised I would.” Rebekah regarded her, then smiled ever so broadly. “There’s no one quite like Silas Good, I should say. You surely are fortunate.”

  Rose suddenly felt uncomfortable. It was al
most as if Rebekah was hinting at her own affection for him. She must’ve dated lots of young men. But how odd to compare them to Silas to my face . . . if that’s what she’s doing.

  Quickly, Rose changed the subject. “How’re Annie’s baby twins?”

  Rebekah ran her hand across her forehead. “They’re precious. I can hardly wait to have children of my own someday.”

  Rose fully understood the yearning for young ones. “Who’s helpin’ Annie tonight?” It may have sounded tactless, but she was very curious to know how Rebekah had managed to come to the Singing.

  “Oh, it was her idea to shoo me out the door. I would’ve gladly stayed with the babies. After all, that’s why I’m here in Lancaster.”

  Is it, now? Rose thought sarcastically. Almost immediately, she chided herself, feeling bad that she’d thought less of Rebekah, if only for a second. “What did they end up naming the twins?”

  “Mary and Anna. That way, when they’re called in from play, it’ll sound like one name: Maryanna.”

  “Oh, I like that.”

  “Me too.” All of a sudden, Rebekah’s face lit up. And just that quickly, she blushed pink.

  Rose couldn’t help but notice Silas looking their way again. Was he the one having such an effect on Rebekah?

  “Well, I’d best be talkin’ with some of the others,” Rebekah said, nearly out of breath.

  Rose didn’t dare look back over her shoulder again; she would let Silas seek her out as he always did. Feeling out of sorts over Rebekah’s comments and behavior, she went to find her woolen shawl and stepped outside into the cold night, glad she’d worn her sturdy black leather shoes.

  The air was crisp and smelled like more snow soon to come. Dat had always said there was something sweet about the atmosphere prior to a big snowstorm. Thus far this evening, they’d gotten only a skiff of the white stuff.