The Thorn (The Rose Trilogy)

by Beverly Lewis

  "Oh, Psalm Ninety-Eight would be ever so nice," Mamm said. "Practice reading it in German, jah?"

  Rose faltered in places but managed to get through all of it.

  "'0 sing unto the Lord a new song,' " Mamm whispered once Rose was finished. "His mercies are new each and every day. Never forget."

  Rose wondered if her mother might need to rest, but when she suggested moving her onto the daybed, Mamm set down her sewing. "Let's just talk a bit."

  Bless her heart, Mamm sounded downright lonely. "That's nice," Rose said.

  Her mother folded her slender hands in her lap. "Your sister's car. . ." she said. "Can ya see it from the road?"

  "Jah."

  This clearly troubled Mamm. "Ach, I wonder if one of us shouldn't say something to her."

  "Well, who's to know how long Hen will stay?"

  Mamm shook her head. "Heaven knows she best be makin' up with her husband. And mighty soon, too."

  Rose agreed. "Does it make ya feel better to know Hen was over to see the bishop and Barbara early this week?"

  "Your father told me." Mamm reached out to clasp her hand. "Oh, Rosie, who ever thought our Hen would return like this?"

  "Seldom happens, ain't?"

  "Never, as far as I know. Once a person leaves, they tend not to look back."

  Rose realized the same might prove true for Nick. Concerned, she said, "Besides baptism and an interest in community and the Old Ways, what would keep a young person in the church?"

  "Well, a hunger for spiritual things, first and foremost." Mamm gave a rare smile. "But a perty girl can sometimes thwart a young man's worldly plans."

  "So courting an Amish girl might actually keep a fella from goin' fancy?"

  "It's kept many a boy in the church through the years."

  Was the bishop trying to do that - encouraging Nick to spend time with her?

  Just then Rose thought of pretty Sarah, the fairer of her two cousins who'd flirted with Nick. Oh, if she could only be the matchmaker Emma Woodhouse was in the wonderful-good book she was reading! But ... how to go about it?

  "Why do you ask?" Mamm said softly, eyes fixed on her.

  "Just wondered, is all.,,

  "Not thinkin' of anyone in particular?"

  She wouldn't lie. "Let's just say I'm hoping to match up the perfect girl with someone ... and mighty soon."

  "Could be a daunting task."

  Rose looked at her, wondering if Mamm suspected what she was thinking. "Well, I'll tread lightly." They were venturing into unfamiliar territory, having never discussed romantic relationships before. Quickly, she changed the subject to the applesauce-making frolic. "Who all's comin' Saturday?"

  "My sister Malinda and Barbara, next door. And Verna and her husband, Levi, and Christian, too."

  Rose supposed Nick might help haul away the apple skins and cores with his brother like other years. "Will Josh and Kate come, as well?" She hoped so for Hen and Mattie Sue's sake.

  "Kate talked 'bout bringing supper for all of us, but I doubt they'll come early enough to put up applesauce." Mamm went on to say that Barbara and the bishop were going in with them on two kinds of apples - Staymen Winesap and Golden Delicious. "I daresay the work should go quick."

  "Are we removin' the stems this year?"

  "Barbara prefers the lighter sauce, so we'll pull them off."

  "Might be a gut job for Mattie Sue and me, then."

  Mamm was getting sleepy, nodding her head either in agreement or fatigue - Rose wasn't sure which. Reaching for her book, Rose began to read again, quickly reentering the early-nineteenth century tale right where she'd left off. The humorously capricious Emma had struck a nerve in Rose, seeing as how the character was the exact same age as she was at the outset of the story, and had the same name as Mamm. But, goodness, if Emma Woodhouse wasn't careful, she was going to matchmake herself right into spinsterhood!

  They were in the midst of a heavy rainstorm by the time Rose saw Hen - from the front room window - turning off Salem Road into the driveway. She was very close to finishing Emma and hoped Hen would take her to the library so she could replenish her supply of novels. They could get there and back before suppertime preparations should begin.

  The benefits of having a car in the family ...

  Only Hen knew of the armloads of books Rose had borrowed from the Quarryville library from her childhood on. Twice each month when they were young, Hen and Rose had gone to the small library, taking along the same box to fill with books. During the warmest months, Rose had read in the barn amidst the horses and mules. The librarian had joked when she returned the box that they'd have to air out the books for days on end, and Rose knew she wasn't kidding.

  "Do ya have time to run me up to the library in Quarryville?" Rose said, holding her umbrella as she tapped on Hen's car window. Mattie Sue was sitting happily in the backseat, playing with the new rag doll Rose had made for her.

  Hen looked at her wristwatch. "I don't see why not." She turned and asked Mattie Sue if she'd like to go and check out a few books, too.

  Nodding, Mattie was all smiles, looking like any other little Amish girl in the community. "I want a storybook about a puppy dog, Mommy."

  Hen turned back to Rose. "How soon do you want to leave?"

  "Mamm's asleep, so let's hurry 'n' go now," she said, excited. "I'll let Mammi know right quick and get my stack of books." Except for the last one, she thought, having a delicious inkling that Emma just might end up with Mr. Knightley ... and hoping so.

  At the library, Hen silently rehearsed her upcoming phone conversation with Brandon. She planned to call after she made supper for the family, eager to help out as much as possible. Rose Ann and Mattie Sue were presently engrossed in finding "puppy" books to read later that night. Rose had promised Mattie Sue on the drive there that she would come over to the Dawdi Haus and spend some time with her.

  Hen would've sat with Mattie, too, helping her choose which stories to check out, but one particular book had caught Hen's eye on the way to the children's section of the library - an adult selfhelp book that addressed common differences in most marriages. She'd picked it up to see if the author had Christian credentials but found it was written by a secular marriage therapist. Even so, the chapter lineup tackled so many of her and Brandon's issues that Hen was determined to read it.

  The sooner, the better ...

  Once Hen returned from the library, she and Mammi Sylvia managed to whip up and serve a meal of roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, buttered corn and green beans, and two pies - Dutch apple and cherry.

  After eating with the family in the main house, Hen left Mattie Sue with Rose Ann to dry dishes for Mammi Sylvia. Feeling pleased with herself for having remembered all the tricks of woodstove cooking, she slipped outside to walk across the field to the east side of the house.

  The air had turned nippy after the day's rain, and the sky was faint with light. The shanty phone booth stood in the middle of the wet pasture, near a few trees, still looking as if it threatened to topple over in the least bit of wind - something it had done in several windstorms. As Hen went inside, she recalled the times she'd come here to use the phone, sometimes for emergencies, sometimes to call Brandon just as she was now. She searched for the tiny initials she'd carved with Brandon's pocketknife: H&B. There they still were, less vivid with the years.

  Hen felt the heat of tears rising in her eyes, but blinked them back. She felt almost as if this call tonight were an emergency of the heart. She dialed, and Brandon answered, sounding uneasy and distant.

  "Hi, hon ... it's Hen."

  "I wondered when - or if - you'd call."

  She guarded her words. "We needed some space ... like you suggested."

  "No, Hen, you're the one who needs space." She heard him breathe out in a huff.

  "Mattie Sue and I are doing all right here. But we miss you, Brandon."

  "It was outrageous what you did." He sounded like he'd been storing up his frustration until
this minute. "You cleared out Mattie's room!"

  She sputtered, trying to make an excuse. "I wanted her to feel ... comfortable."

  "Do you ever listen to yourself?" he said. "You aren't planning a short stay, are you?"

  "Don't jump to conclusions."

  "Am I?"

  She sighed. This was deteriorating quickly. "Mattie Sue would love to see you."

  "Well, bring her home."

  She ignored his comment, trying to remember all the good times they'd shared. Right now, in the heat of their discussion, she hardly recalled any. "Did you get my letter?"

  "I told you what you could do about visiting before you left."

  "Mattie Sue and I really hope you'll come," Hen said, trying to do what the bishop's wife had said, but she was failing miserably. "I'd love to cook a nice hot dinner for you - your favorite."

  "On an old cookstove, right?"

  "Actually, yes." She said more softly, "I think you might like it."

  He hedged, like he wasn't sure, despite his usual bravado. "I would like to see Mattie ... and you, too, Hen." He paused for what seemed like minutes. Then he added, "But why not cook here?"

  "It would mean a lot to us if you'd accept our invitation ... here." She waited, hoping he might change his mind. "I'll make steak with the rich gravy you like."

  Another long pause. Was there any chance he'd accept?

  Then, with a sense of great deliberation, he said, "I'll come on one condition."

  "Yes?" She held her breath.

  "That dinner is only with you and Mattie."

  "That's fine. I'll look forward to it, and Mattie Sue will be so happy."

  "By the way, I was planning a little surprise for Mattie, so maybe I'll bring it along," he said almost cheerfully.

  "Any hints?"

  "Nope ... you'll just have to wonder."

  She almost smiled. So the real Brandon was definitely alive and well. "We'll eat around five o'clock, okay?"

  He said he'd be there, and she hung up the phone. Overwhelmed with relief, Hen did a little jig right there inside the rickety phone shanty. He's not as stubborn as I thought!

  Hen waited until after Mattie Sue was ready for bed to tell her the news. "Daddy's coming for supper this Saturday."

  "Goody! I'll help set the table," Mattie Sue volunteered, surprising Hen as they sat at the small table in a circle of gaslight. "And, Mommy, do I have to wear my old clothes? The fancy ones?"

  "No, darling. You can wear your favorite Amish dress."

  "The blue one!" Mattie Sue hurried off to the front room and returned with her two library books. "Can I show these to Daddy, too ?"

  You sure won't be watching TV together!

  "If you want to."

  Mattie Sue looked up at her. "And, Mommy?"

  "Yes, sweetie."

  "Is Daddy coming to live with us?"

  She hadn't expected this. "Well, he didn't grow up like I did, so he's not as interested in Amish ways, honey."

  "I didn't grow up here, either, Mommy."

  She has a good point!

  There was a knock at the door, and they looked up to see Rose Ann waving at them through its window.

  "Come in," Hen called as Mattie Sue ran to give her aunt a hug.

  Rose greeted her niece and watched as she spun around in her little Amish dress till Mattie squealed, "I'm getting daremlich!"

  Hen laughed. She's not only dizzy; she's picking up Deitsch very quickly. And in that moment, she startled herself, realizing how happy she was to use her first language more freely. It would be easier if I felt that way about everything, like not driving a car. She had a strong attachment to her sedan. Yet Hen understood Dad's concern in asking her to park it somewhere less obvious. "Hide it under a tree somewhere," he'd advised just before supper. Despite the lack of power lines, anyone passing by who saw it might immediately gather the house was occupied by Englishers.

  "Pick a storybook," Rose Ann said as she settled down onto the little settee with Mattie, near the window.

  Mattie Sue was teasing her auntie, shuffling the books - both were stories about puppies. "I can't decide! Eenie, meenie, miney, moe...

  "Close your eyes, then." Rose Ann placed the books behind her back. "Okay, now point to one of my hands, either the right or the left, and that's the book we'll read first."

  Mattie Sue giggled and waited, shilly-shallying, undecided as to which hand to choose. Hen was amused by her daughter's inability to make a decision - how the bishop must think of me now. The realization made her chagrined. She wanted to open her arms to her husband - embrace him fully without accepting the worldly things he stood for. There was the biggest catch, and the most difficult challenge. But to obey the man of God, she must figure out how to combine the two.

  Maybe Saturday's supper will prove helpful, Hen thought, still shocked that Brandon had agreed to come.

  Yet the confident ring in his voice when he had mentioned a surprise made her not only wonder, but also shelter her heart.

  While Rose Ann read to Mattie Sue, Hen paged through the small wedding album she'd brought. She stared at her own happy face as a young bride and recalled how giddy she had been that day. Brandon had jokingly suggested they marry quickly to keep from sinning - certainly they'd hardly known each other long enough to make a rational decision about a lifelong commitment. But they had grown as friends since then, although now when Hen thought of it, she wasn't sure what commonalities they shared. They didn't see eye to eye on rearing a child, that was evident.

  With her pointer finger, she traced her wedding veil in a picture. What did I set out to give to this marriage? Am I still this Plain-turnedfancy woman inside?

  She glanced over at her sister, all curled up with Mattie Sue. The endearing sight brought tears to her eyes. How can I not stay the course here with my darling girl?

  There had been more than a dozen opportunities since returning home to point out to Mattie Sue the importance of embracing honesty, generosity, patience, and kindness in one's life - all the lovely character traits she had been taught as a child. And Mattie was receiving the loving instruction more receptively than when they had lived at home with Brandon. Surely it was the worldly environment that had made the difference, she thought.

  How hard will Brandon laugh if I ask him to join the Amish church with me?

  Hen was feeling especially lonely, so she was delighted when Rose Ann stayed around until after Mattie was tucked into bed. Putting on a kettle of water for tea, she sat at the kitchen table, across from her sister.

  "Mattie seems eager to learn our ways," Rose Ann pointed out. "It surprises me, really."

  "She's young ... and open to it." Hen set two cups and saucers on the table. "I was actually worried she might already be too ensnared in English life for any of this to take."

  "What are ya hopin' for, Hen? I mean, for Mattie Sue?"

  She placed several kinds of tea bags in a small bowl and put them on the table next to the sugar. "Between you and me, I haven't felt this free since I left home to marry. This life" - and here she gestured with her hand - "is what I believe in. It's true and has eternal value. I feel as if I have to break through to it somehow ... because I want Mattie Sue to grow up Amish."

  Rose Ann smiled. "Maybe it took leavin' your fancy life to grasp this."

  "Jah ... I had to find out the hard way."

  "Are ya filled with joy now?"

  It was a strange question coming from Rose Ann, who was usually not this reflective. "I once read a Shakespeare sonnet that reminds me of how I feel right now," Hen said. "When I'm walking on Amish soil, I feel my losses are restored and my sorrows have ended."

  Rose looked unexpectedly sad. "Not when you're with Brandon?"

  "I don't know how to explain it, other than to say that things have radically changed. Yes, I did experience all of those things when we were first married. But I was in a much different place then ... and conceited as a crow."

  Rose sat quietly, rearrang
ing the tea bags. "I guess if you can figure out what's different now, then you can try 'n' remedy it somehow."

  "I must appear disloyal to Brandon," Hen admitted. "I'm not exactly sure what's going on myself." Why am I so eager to raise Mattie Sue in the Anabaptist tradition?

  "Brandon's coming for supper this Saturday," she told Rose.

  "Seriously?"

  "It's surprising, but yes."

  Rose clapped her hands. "Oh, sister, this is wonderful-gut!"

  "Well, I hope so."

  Rose leaned forward. "You should be jumpin' for joy."

  "I actually was." She described her little dance in the phone shanty. "But I have a feeling something's up." The teakettle whistled, and she went to get it off the stove. "He's bringing a surprise."

  "Look on the bright side - might be something nice."

  Hen shrugged. "Brandon can negotiate like nobody I've ever known. You don't know my husband."

  "No ... and I wish I did. He's family, after all." Rose chose peach passion herbal tea and held her cup and saucer while Hen poured boiling water over the bag.

  Poor Rosie. Hen didn't have the heart to tell her that Brandon had made a point of wanting to see only her and Mattie Sue. He doesn't care about my sister or brothers and their wives and children ... or my parents, either. And never has.

  As she sat down and dripped some honey into her tea, Hen began to understand precisely why she felt so lonely - and why it was so critical that Mattie Sue become familiar with her Amish heritage. This life brought peace with it ... and was far better than anything else the world had to offer.

  As surprises go, Gilbert Browning's arrival at the Kauffmans' on Friday morning was most unforeseen. Rose was enjoying the final chapters of Emma with her mother when she heard a car coming up the driveway. Looking out the window, she recognized the old rattletrap with Gilbert Browning sitting in the driver's seat.

  "Well, lookee there!" She quickly explained to Mamm that the widower she worked for had just arrived.

  Before her mother could say much of anything, Rose kissed her cheek and said she'd go and call Hen to come sit with her, since Mammi was doing some shopping for tomorrow's work frolic. She did that as quickly as she could, then hurried back through the yard to meet Mr. Browning, who'd already stepped out of the car. "What a nice surprise," she told him as he gave the countryside a once-over.