The Thorn (The Rose Trilogy)

by Beverly Lewis

  "Hen's here again." This can't be good!

  "She must miss you."

  Rose held her peace, not wanting to reveal her concern.

  Nick was just as careful helping her out of the wagon as before, but this time she didn't wrap her arms around his neck, fearing she might give someone the wrong idea. Especially if Hen's watching ...

  As Nick carried her past the car, she could see inside the front seat to her sister's overnight bag. It was the same one Hen had packed with forbidden cosmetics before she'd run off and married Brandon. Was Hen coming home to stay?

  She stiffened as Nick made his way to the back porch.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  Rose shook her head, not saying. Besides, Nick didn't need to know what she thought of Hen's being unequally yoked to an outsider. After all, Nick might actually find it comical, considering they were such good friends. . . and Nick wasn't a church member, either.

  Hen heard the market wagon come rattling into the driveway, and Mattie Sue ran to the window. "Oh look, it's Auntie Rose!"

  Mammi Sylvia stretched her neck to peer out. "That's odd. We thought she was comin' home on foot."

  "Nick's there, too," said Mattie Sue, dashing to the back door to greet them.

  "Ach, that boy." Mom shook her head. "You would think he wished we'd taken him in back when, 'stead of the bishop."

  Mammi clucked and returned to her hand sewing. "Now, Emma."

  "Well, isn't he round here more than my own sons?"

  Hen stretched; she'd been feeling so mellow she might've fallen asleep right there. But she got up and went out to see Rose Ann, stopping at the screened-in porch. Mattie held the back door open for Nick, who was carrying Rose up the sidewalk, of all things. "What happened to you?" Hen exclaimed.

  Rose's face pinked with embarrassment. "I fell and hurt my leg."

  "Oh, you poor thing!" She followed Nick inside, where he set Rose Ann down slowly on the wooden bench next to the kitchen table.

  Mattie Sue hovered near and reached to touch Rose's hand. "You gonna be all right, Auntie?" she asked worriedly.

  "She took a bad tumble," Nick said, squatting down to Mattie Sue's eye level. "Hit her knee on a rock alongside the road." He looked altogether concerned while Rose explained how she'd fallen into the ditch.

  "Simbel mir - silly me," Rose said. "I was watchin' a bird,'stead of looking where I was walking."

  But it wasn't what her sister was saying that made Hen's inner antenna shoot straight up. Nick's expression was downright tender toward Rose as he lingered protectively, like he was her beau.

  Hen shook off the inkling. Was she just imagining this?

  Whatever the reason, something swelled within her, and she believed her return home was somehow meant to have a twofold purpose. Without delay, it was time to have a heart-to-heart talk with her sister.

  The minute Rose saw Hen, she knew something was really wrong. Just the way her voice sounded all pinched up when she asked what had happened that Rose couldn't walk - her pretty face much too pale, too - Rose knew. Has my sister pushed her husband to the brink?

  She didn't know why she mentally took Brandon's side on whatever had brought Hen here to visit again. Based on what Hen had shared with her last week, Rose had the terrible feeling that it was probably her sister's fault.

  Now Hen was eyeing Nick, plainly displeased he was in the house, let alone helping Rose down onto the kitchen bench, then hovering near.

  Hen quickly left the kitchen, taking Mattie Sue to the stable to see the twin foals. Her older brother josh was there and promised to watch over Mattie while Hen went to talk to their father. When she opened the door of the woodshop, the air was thick with sawdust. She coughed upon entering, unable to stop.

  Her father looked up. "Hen ... for goodness' sake! I didn't expect to see you again this soon!" He stopped what he was doing and motioned her outside. "Can't have ya breathin' that dust into your lungs." He followed her, still wearing his protective mask.

  "Do you have a minute?" she asked, walking with him toward the woodshed.

  "For you? Plenty of time." His eyes were so bright and welcoming, it was hard not to recall the contrast in his countenance during the days before she had married Brandon. She'd seen great sadness there then, the reflection of her own betrayal.

  They stepped inside the woodshed for a bit of shelter - he must've sensed her need for privacy.

  "It's hard to know where to start," she said.

  His eyes were serious. "What's goin' on, Hen?"

  For Mattie's sake, she'd kept things all bottled up. And now as she opened her mouth to speak, she began to weep instead. "Oh, Dad.. ." She cried on his shoulder, wishing she'd never hurt him and Mom. Wishing she could help them understand, somehow, how bad she now felt about breaking their hearts. "I'm really sorry for everything...."

  Awkwardly he slipped his arm around her - he didn't seem to know what to say.

  Hen wept so hard, she was glad she hadn't worn mascara as she had for the past few years. She cried for all the days and nights she'd been away from her family and her rightful heritage. But most of all, she shed tears for her struggling marriage, even though the mess was her own doing. Brandon was not to be blamed for seducing her willing heart away from the confines of her former life. She'd eagerly let him do so.

  She tried to wipe away her tears, and her dad shook out his old blue kerchief and handed it to her. "Careful, lest ya smear sawdust in your eyes," he said.

  When she had pulled herself together, she told of her discussion with Brandon that morning. "He knows how miserable I am ... urged me to come home for a while."

  "I 'spect he thinks you'll return to him soon, jah?"

  She shook her head. "I doubt that." It was the hardest thing she'd ever admitted.

  "Well, I certainly hope you will!"

  She blew her nose. "I don't see how things can ever work between us now."

  "What on earth is so different?"

  "The world's pressing in on Mattie Sue ... and on me."

  "So you can no longer submit to your husband's English ways. Is that it?"

  Her eyes met his. "It's my fault ... jah."

  "You're not thinking of movin' back home, are ya, Hen?"

  "I know it must sound ridiculous." She dabbed at her swollen eyes.

  Her father sighed. "It ain't right to leave your husband be, daughter."

  Looking away, she said, "He wants us to visit him at home, but he refuses to come here."

  "Will ya do things his way ... at least what you can?"

  She listened and nodded.

  "You must work hard to salvage your marriage, Hen. It's imperative under God."

  How could she expect him to say differently? There was no point in telling him Brandon's warning about their daughter's custody. Too much at once.

  "Would you mind if Mattie Sue and I stayed with you and Mom for a while?"

  He glanced at the house. "Well, the two rooms upstairs are all we've got in the main house. There's the second Dawdi Haus, though. Would ya want to stay there?"

  She struggled to speak. "It would mean ... so much. Thanks!"

  He touched her elbow and led her back toward the big porch. "I'll have to speak with your mother and the bishop about all this, of course."

  "I don't want to upset Mom." Then Hen added, "Sometime after you talk to the bishop, I'd like to speak with him - make a confession."

  "Well, since you didn't join church, you were never shunned, ya know."

  "I shunned my family, though. And the Lord, too." Each time she thought of her loving heavenly Father, Hen could hardly keep her tears in check. "I really want to offer my heartfelt apology to the bishop and his wife. And get his advice, as well."

  Her father gave a faint smile as they made their way inside. "I'll let him know."

  Glancing at the gloomy sky, Hen realized the enormous challenge that lay ahead of her ... a married worldly woman living here with a child from a union with a ma
n the People had strongly opposed.

  Hen had never anticipated that Rose Ann would burst into tears when she saw Dad and Nick moving Hen's and Mattie Sue's things into the cottagelike Dawdi Haus. It was hard to know if Rose's injured leg was partly to blame for her sorrowful outburst, or if her sister was truly heartbroken at what Hen's moving in signified.

  Hen had been almost relieved to have to step away for a few hours to go to work at Rachel's Fabrics. She could not bear to stick around as Rose wept in the kitchen, her leg propped up on a chair. Why was her sister being overly dramatic? After all, her marriage wasn't at stake!

  Now that Hen had returned and was unpacking in the small two-story house, around the corner from the main house, Mattie Sue sat on the floor in the middle of an oval rag rug, jabbering to her. She was talking about seeing the foals with Nick, who had let her follow him around the barn for part of that afternoon. Hen was surprised at how quickly she'd warmed up to him.

  "I can sleep with my dollies here at Grandpa Sol's house, right, Mommy?" Mattie asked, suddenly looking more thoughtful.

  "Of course." Hen went over and kissed her, pulling her close. "Give me a sweet hug," she said, cherishing the warmth of her little girl.

  How long before she asks to see her daddy? Hen worried later as she set about arranging Mattie Sue's clothing into the empty drawers of the dresser in the smaller bedroom. And ... how long before I run back into Brandon's arms?

  Swiftly she redirected her attention to making the already furnished house into a temporary home for them, realizing that she would have to become reaccustomed to the lack of electricity. More than a few times she'd already reached for the light switch, even though it was still light outside. And cooking like Mammi and Rose Ann did on a woodstove might prove to be tricky, although Hen guessed it was like anything else - the ability would return soon enough. With a certain amount of practice.

  Hen heard a rapping at the back door and went down to see who was there. Nick, dressed in his usual black, offered to help carry anything more for her. She took the opportunity to thank him for keeping Mattie Sue company earlier, as well as hauling in their things.

  "That's fine," he said, ducking his head. "And Mattie's no problem."

  Mattie Sue grinned at him from her spot on the carpet.

  Hen wanted to ask how he had come to be the one to bring Rose Ann back from the Amish doctor's, but she didn't need to pry. In all the years she'd known Nick, she must've said five words to him.

  "They're askin' if you'll come over for supper," he said, looking at her, then shifting his eyes away.

  "Sure, thanks."

  He frowned then. "Not to poke my nose in," Nick muttered, "but why'd ya come back to ... ?" He shrugged and glanced over at the barn. "To all this?"

  Nick was the last person to whom Hen owed an explanation. "It's complicated" was all she said.

  "It wonders me, is all." He turned to leave.

  You're not the only one, Hen thought, going back to resume her unpacking.

  After Hen had helped her grandmother with the supper dishes, she assisted Rose Ann up the stairs and into bed. "You've been through the wringer today," she said, carefully placing a pillow under her sister's leg.

  Rose disliked being made over and grumbled when Hen covered her with the small afghan from the foot of her bed. "No need to baby me, Hen." She said it with a forced smile.

  Hen ignored her. "Did the doctor say how long he thought it would be before your knee is strong again?"

  Tucking the afghan beneath her chin, Rose shivered a little. "Not sure what's wrong with me. My leg has a fever in it and I'm chilled all over." She struggled deeper under the blankets. "Old Eli says I'm s'posed to stay off my leg for a full twenty-four hours."

  "Then you should feel better tomorrow." Hen went to the window and pulled down the shade. She didn't think now was a good time to bring up her suspicions about Nick.

  "I might seem ungrateful, but I'm just put out with myself," Rose said. "Denki for helpin' me get up here." She looked like she might start crying again. "I'm awful glad you're here, just when I need a big sister."

  "Oh, Rosie." Hen knelt beside the bed and patted her hand. "I'll do all I can to make you comfortable."

  "Will ya look out for Mamm, too?"

  "Whatever I can do, sure." She kissed her cheek. "Our mother's not your sole responsibility."

  "It seems so ... some days." Rose closed her eyes. She took several breaths and folded her hands on her chest. "Were you upset earlier ... when Nick carried me into the house?"

  Hen touched Rose's cheek. "It was a little unsettling."

  "He was just helpin' out." Rose's lower lip quivered. "I don't know what would've happened if he hadn't found me on the road, to tell ya the truth."

  "Nick seems fond of you."

  Her sister frowned and blinked repeatedly. "We've always been gut friends. You know that."

  "But boys who are just friends don't look at girls the way he looked at you."

  Rose gave a wave of her hand. "'Tween you and me, I'm see in' someone else," she confided.

  "Ah ... so you think of Nick as merely a friend?"

  "Why, sure. He doesn't care for me the way my beau does. I doubt Nick even notices I'm a girl."

  Hen managed to squelch her laughter. "Rosie ... goodness, what you don't understand." Hen rose to her feet. "But you rest, okay? Dad and I'll keep Mom company."

  Rose was still stewing when Hen stepped out of the room and closed the door. Bewildered, Hen shook her head, trying to remember back when she was Rosie's age. She stopped to peer out the window near the landing, looking across the cornfields ready to be harvested for silage. Nick and Christian were heading toward their house, walking on either side of the road. Still at odds after all these years ...

  Treading softly on the stairs, Hen headed down to check on Mom, as promised. Who, besides Rose, has Nick ever gotten along with? she wondered, finding her mother alone in the small spare room. "You all right?" she asked, poking her head in.

  Mom motioned to her. "Your father's just talked to the bishop, and Aaron wants to leave it up to us to decide how long you should stay."

  Hen listened, anxious to hear what Mom thought.

  "Marriage is a sacred trust, dear one - not to be tampered with."

  She agreed. "I don't take it lightly, believe me."

  "Your father and I want you to work things out with your husband."

  "I've done what I can," she said, suddenly feeling tired.

  "Well, keep tryin' . . . till something gives."

  She nodded, though she felt little hope.

  "That's all God asks of us," Mom said, her eyes fluttering shut.

  Truthfully, Hen didn't know how anything would change as long as Brandon was dead set against her "backward" family, or the Amish community in general.

  Rose felt dull and lifeless, like she was trapped in a cocoon. Her knee pained her, but so did her heart, knowing her sister and Mattie Sue were going to be living back home. The realization only served to make her feel worse. Her lofty dreams of a happilyever-after marriage for her sister were dashed as she rested in the very bed where Hen had first told her of the "special love" she and Brandon Orringer had found in each other.

  Why can't it last forever - till death? Rose stared at the ceiling. And why does Hen pine for her childhood home more than the one she's made with Brandon?

  Tears trickled down Rose's face and into her hair. She turned and closed her eyes, letting her emotions go.

  "Hen knows better," she mumbled into her pillow. "How could she do this?"

  The little Dawdi Haus was too quiet now. Hen sat in bed, gazing out at the night sky, feeling isolated in the lonely room and too weary to bother getting up to pull down the shades. Mom wants them up at all times, she thought, understanding the quirk for the very first time.

  When she was with Brandon, she'd never paid attention to the city sounds. Either that or the buzz had never registered. Rolling over in the empty bed,
Hen thought back to her first night as his bride. She didn't recall hearing the traffic and other noises of the modern world. Was she so blinded by love, too willing to give up the tranquility of the country for a handsome husband?

  She yawned deeply and slipped her hand beneath the cool pillowcase ... one Mom had undoubtedly embroidered. When she thought of her mother, Hen felt sad, as if she had neglected her while living with Brandon. Now that she was here, Hen intended to make up for that.

  Her thoughts turned to poor Rose. She'd really banged up her knee ... and Hen hadn't meant to be so pointed about Nick. After all, no girl wanted a big sister meddling in her life. Suzy did just that to me. She thought back to the things her too-blunt sister-in-law, Enos's wife, had said about "evil Brandon."

  But nothing Suzy or anyone else said back then had made a whit of difference. If anything it made Hen run to Brandon faster. She truly believed the difference between herself and Rose Ann was that her sister seemed innocent of Nick's attention. Actually, come to think of it, Hen had no idea what Nick's intentions were, considering his lifelong lack of interest in the church. Because of what Hen knew now, it was the thing that worried her most.

  Frustrated and tired, she got up and went to the stark window to look out. Brandon must be sorely perplexed with her. Did he miss her? Had he fallen asleep on the sofa tonight while watching TV? Or had he stumbled into bed - their bed - tired as a dog, only to be reminded that Hen wasn't there to soothe away the stress of his day?

  "O Lord, I need your help," she prayed quietly, tears falling onto her nightgown. "I chose the path of disobedience." She sighed. "But now I want to walk in the way that will please you most - whatever that may be. Amen."

  She tiptoed over to the small room next to hers, where Mattie Sue lay sleeping peacefully, her arm around Foofie. The stuffed dog had been a birthday present from Diane Perlis and her daughter, Karen. She remembered how Mattie had protested that a year was a "long, long time" to wait for her next birthday. And Hen had agreed with her, saying a full year seemed like an endless amount of time when you were young. Now she knew all too well how the months skidded past, rolling along like a market wagon on a sharp decline. Good enough reason to return to the Amish and make things right.