But he'd said it himself: They truly were best friends! "I do care for you, Nick."
"Then come with me," he said again. "It's that simple."
Rose searched his eyes, this familiar face she'd grown so accustomed to. A long moment passed between them, and in that span of time, she felt it, too - she wanted to be with him, to be where he was. How many years had she cherished their friendship? Nick was the one she'd run to first when she had something to share.
Her heart was beating much too fast. Was this how Hen had felt with Brandon? Her dear, dear sister, who'd thrown her life away for the world? She thought also of Beth's father, who'd rescued his daughter from a boy who would surely have taken advantage of her innocence. Was Nick any different from either of them? Could she trust her heart to him?
No, she thought. This is just like the books I read - it's not real!
"It wouldn't be right," she said at last. "I can't go with you."
Nick drew a slow breath. Her heart was breaking for him, for the rejection he must feel. "Then I'll stay here and join church."
"No, you'll never be happy unless you take the kneeling vow for the right reason. I see you livin' your life for the bishop, miserable day in and day out. I can't let you do that for me ... for the rest of your life. I won't." She stopped to brush back tears. "Besides, I'm sure you must know - I belong to Silas Good. I'm his steady girl."
Nick never even flinched - he simply refused to acknowledge what she'd said. "I know you love me, Rosie."
If that's true, what kind of woman falls for two men? She shook her head.
Nick leaned down to kiss her forehead, her cheek. "Have you saved your lips for your beau?" His voice was raspy, his breath near.
She kept her head bowed. " 'Tis best, jah."
He sighed audibly. "I loved ya first...."
Rose knew in her core this was the last time she could ever show him any depth of affection. Raising her hands to his shoulders, she stood on tiptoe and gently kissed his face. It was wet with tears.
He reached for her so quickly, it took her breath away. She yielded to his strong embrace, thinking of poor Beth Browning, who'd loved and lost when her father had intervened. "Daddy says it was for my own good," Beth had told her in a quivering voice.
What would my father say if he saw me now? Rose wondered.
"I'm leavin' the Amish." Nick's dark eyes shone with resolve. "If I can't have you, I don't want to stay." He sighed again, his head resting on hers. "I couldn't bear it."
"How soon?" Rose asked.
He shuddered and released her. "When the time is right."
Their eyes locked; Rose stepped back slightly. "Then God be with ya, Nick Franco."
"And with you, my sweet Rosie."
Sunday morning, Hen held Mattie Sue's hand in the long line of women and girls who waited to enter the deacon's house for Preaching. She was filled with a great sense of joy to be attending church for the first time in years. It seemed like longer than five years since she'd heard the old Ausbund hymns or listened to the sermons.
Looking now at Mattie Sue - beautiful in her blue dress and white apron, her Kapp atop her head - Hen wondered how her little girl would manage the nearly three-and-a-half-hour service. Hen had already decided to sit close to the back, if she could, not being a member anyway. A good choice for Mattie's first time.
Once the line moved and she was indoors, she saw a space on the wooden bench beside Arie Zook, who was holding her infant son and had her three-year-old daughter, Becky, with her, as well. The women sat in one section of the long room, facing the men and boys, the age-old way. Hen fought back tears during the familiar Loblied. She had not forgotten either the words or the tune and joined her voice in joyful praise to her heavenly Father, trying to forget the many Sundays she had not kept the Lord's Day holy, or acknowledged it with reverence in even the smallest way.
As she looked around, she was reminded that being in attendance was significant for even the elderly folk, three of whom sat in rocking chairs, too feeble to sit on the hard, backless benches. Seeing Mamm perched in her wheelchair next to Mammi Sylvia touched Hen deeply, and as the ordained men offered testimonies, she committed anew to following the code of conduct of this, the church of her birthright. Bowing her head, she prayed silently that God would guide her and Mattie's future. Was it His will for them to remain indefinitely within the protective confines of the People?
She thought of Brandon and wondered if being a father to Mattie Sue might not eventually turn his hardened heart toward the Lord. Oh, for his sake - and theirs - she prayed it would be so.
She embraced not only the hymns but also the time of prayer, when the People turned to kneel at their seats. Quietly, she thanked God for this wonderful opportunity to worship with others of like faith.
Later in the service, when both Mattie Sue and Becky became restless, Arie took out a clean white hankie and made twin "babies" in a handkerchief cradle to entertain them. Then she undid the cloth to start over again, silently showing the girls how to roll the "babies" while five-month-old Levi slept peacefully in the crook of her arm. By the time the second sermon was finished, Mattie Sue was able to do it on her own.
Hen, meanwhile, attempted to focus on the orderly worship service, which struck her as exceptionally meaningful. How long would she have waited to return if Mattie Sue hadn't been born? Was it purely because she'd become a mother that her heartstrings were tugged toward home?
After the final prayer, Hen and Arie had an opportunity to sit and chat. After being shushed repeatedly during the actual service, now Mattie Sue and Becky were permitted to talk, as well. Hen expected Mattie to tell Becky about Wiggles, but she was more interested in baby Levi. "Can I have a baby brother, too, Mommy?" she asked, startling Hen.
Hen's eyes met Arie's and the two women were at a loss for words. Soon, though, the two little girls were busy playing again with the white hankie.
Hen sighed with relief.
"We'll have you and Mattie Sue over for dinner real soon," Arie said, adjusting a cover-up as Levi began to nurse.
"Can we go to their house, Mommy?" asked Mattie Sue.
If we stay around long enough, Hen thought.
"We'll have fun," little Becky babbled in Deitsch, and Hen had to translate for Mattie Sue.
"Jah," giggled Mattie Sue. Hen's daughter wriggled on the bench, sneaking glances at Arie's cover-up.
She's never been around a nursing baby, Hen realized, thinking yet again how different Mattie Sue's childhood had been from her own.
Hen awakened early on washday to tend to her laundry before helping Rose Ann and Mammi Sylvia, too. Once the week's washing was out on the line, she checked on Mattie Sue, who was sitting and playing with her dollies close to Mom's wheelchair in the kitchen, near the cookstove. "I'll be back in a bit," she told them, hurrying to the little house next door.
Taking out some writing paper, she began to write her thoughts to her husband.
Dear Brandon,
Would you like to meet for coffee whenever it's convenient? There's a little cafe not far from the fabric shop where I work, near Quarryville. I'd be happy to meet you there.
Also, Mattie Sue talks constantly of you and Wiggles. She would like to visit you and see the puppy, too, if that's all right. We can talk more about that when we get together for coffee.
I'll look forward to hearing from you.
With love, Hen
As she signed her name, she suddenly felt more hopeful. And when she ambled to the mailbox, she relished the soothing sounds of the country around her.
Raising the flag on the wooden mailbox, Hen happened to see the bishop's wife up the road, also mailing a letter. She waved to her, knowing it was too far away for her to hear Hen call a morning greeting. But Barbara did not see her, and head down, she walked slowly back toward their house. She looks awfully sad, thought Hen, praying all was well.
Nick was distant and brooding that afternoon, keeping to himself in the c
orner of the stable. Away from me, thought Rose, second-guessing her resolve in the ravine. Had she made the right choice, dismissing her best friend?
He would not even allow her to catch his eye. He was either furious with her or had sunk back into a state of despair. In many ways Nick's sullen expression reminded her of his first troubled months here, after the bishop brought him here to live. No wonder, she thought sympathetically. All this time, he missed his fancy life. Like a maverick wandering in the woods ...
When Rose could take it no longer, she slipped over to him. Checking first to see if anyone was watching, she touched his arm. "Nick ... can we talk?"
He frowned. "What's left to say?"
"I don't want you to go."
His face softened. "Have you changed your mind about - "
"No, but ... I don't want you to leave like this. The way things are ... between us, I mean." She choked back tears. "I don't know how to make you understand."
"Understand what, Rosie?" He leaned toward her, then glanced about furtively. "We can't talk here."
She nodded. "I know. But somewhere ... before you do anything rash."
"Leavin' here's rash?"
"Yes."
Dat came into the barn just then, and Rose ducked down to hide. Nick walked away, taking his shovel with him, and she held her breath, hoping her father had not seen them standing so close, her face wet with tears.
Later that afternoon, as Solomon approached the bishop's horse barn, he spotted Christian and Nick scuffling near the corncrib, their faces almost purple with anger.
Suddenly Christian shoved Nick hard against the wall and demanded he get on his horse. "Now!" Christian shouted. "Let's go!"
The two were clearly unaware of Sol. Stunned at the fury in Christian's voice, he realized their flared tempers had gotten completely out of hand. "Fellas ... stop!" he called to them, but they paid Sol no mind. It surprised him, and he was further amazed when Nick obediently mounted Pepper and followed Christian, who was already on his own horse, galloping off toward the road.
Riveted to the spot, Solomon wondered, Where are they going at this hour? Surely their chores weren't finished for the day. He watched them head clear out to the road and turn west toward the main thoroughfare, shaking his head.
Making his way into the barn, Solomon wasn't sure whether to say anything to his good friend, the bishop. But, as it turned out, Aaron was equally flustered. "I'm mighty fed up ... the way those two are treating each other." Sol let Aaron blow off steam. ,,with all the horseback ridin' they do, they might as well be drivin' cars!" Then Aaron added quietly, "I fear Nick's goin' to get himself one."
Sol had seen Nick and Rose Ann head off together on driving horses through the back meadow just yesterday. The sight had made him heartsick, yet he'd told no one. Especially not Emma ... the dear woman had enough on her mind lately, what with Hen living apart from her husband.
"Nick wants a car?" Sol asked.
Bishop shook his head. "He's certainly savin' up for something big. I can't get him to contribute to the house anymore."
"Nothin' at all?" Solomon was shocked, because he'd been so generous with his pay to Nick through the years.
"The boy's out of control."
"And Christian. . . what about him?" asked Sol.
"He's mighty upset, to tell ya frankly." Aaron drew a long sigh. "And between you and me, the ministers have been here yet again, urging me to set things right with my own household ... so I can serve the Lord and His People more effectively."
Sol suspected what that signified. The two preachers and Deacon Samuel had to uphold the traditional qualifications for bishop, which meant all of Aaron's adult children were required to be church members for him to continue in the office.
"Christian insists Nick be baptized."
"Well, how can that help?"
Bishop brushed his brow with the back of his hand, then wiped the perspiration on his work trousers. "Christian's adamant that Nick owes me, so he's twistin' his arm, so to speak."
"To join church against his will?"
The bishop nodded.
"That's a terrible idea."
Bishop exhaled loudly. "Must sound thataway to Nick, too."
Solomon clasped Aaron's shoulder. "I'll keep this quiet ... and in my prayers."
"Denki, Sol."
Hearing this so soon after having seen Rose Ann and Nick ride off together left Solomon painfully aware there was much to beseech the Lord God for, indeed.
A few of the bishop's grandchildren were sitting out on the front porch telling stories when Rose Ann headed over there after supper. Nick was nowhere to be seen, which was just as well, since she had been stewing all day about what to say to help soften the blow of her rebuff.
As was often the case, the older boys were taking turns outdoing each other with their various tales, and several of the younger girls shivered with fright as the setting once again became the ravine.
For Rose, that location would now always be taboo. Nothing good could happen deep in a chasm like that. A dangerous path away from the real world.
She trembled as she recalled Nick's caresses, so inappropriate considering she was nearly engaged to someone else. Even though she'd found Mamm's money tin, she deeply regretted having gone to such a secluded place with Nick.
Thinking back on his impulsive declarations, she worried she might have led him on simply by being there. To think he'd said right out that he'd loved her first!
The twilight was very still, without a hint of a breeze. The smaller girls edged closer, till she had her arms around two of them on each side of her. "Just remember, it's all make-believe," she whispered to them, no longer convinced she herself believed that.
Rose looked at the sky and took in the changing shades and colors. Within minutes, the first star of the evening appeared as the sky grew darker.
The children were clad in coats or woolen shawls, but she knew it wouldn't be long before they went inside to Mammi Barbara to get warmed up with hot cocoa and to sit near the woodstove. Soon, too, the outdoor storytelling would become a faint memory as another year slipped away.
Glancing across the field to her house, Rose was glad Mattie Sue had stayed put with Hen and Mamm. Even though her niece would've enjoyed seeing the children gathered here, Mattie Sue was much too young for the foreboding tone the older ones seemed to enjoy giving their "tellings."
Then, looking back at the sky, Rose saw a falling star.
"Ach, Buck enrol datt! -just look at that!" several of the children said in unison as it streaked a white line down to the horizon and was gone.
"Someone's going to die tonight," one of the boys said.
"Well, sure they are," said another. "People die all the time."
"No, someone nearby," an older girl piped up. "My Mamma says so.
Rose suddenly felt cold. "Maybe we should go inside now," she said, and the girls scrunched up next to her nodded and quickly stood up.
"That's the silliest thing I've ever heard," said the boy who'd had his story interrupted, but even he followed the rest of the children inside.
Rose Ann decided to accept Barbara's kind invitation to stay and have hot chocolate and some fresh brownies, a favorite treat. In short order they were all talking and sitting around the table, along with the bishop and Verna, and the twins, Anna and Susannah, whose husbands had all gone together on an errand.
"Your Dawdi Aaron's got something for each of ya," Barbara was saying.
Bishop wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. "It's time I gave ya some of your inheritance," he said with a quick smile as he pulled out a handful of silver dollars. Amidst their oohs and ahs, he presented each of the eight children there with one bright and shiny coin.
Rose heard a horse whinny outside, and turned to glance through the window behind her. She gasped. Coming up the driveway were the bishop's sons, Christian draped head down over Pepper and being steadied by Nick, who led his brother's horse behind his own. Blood co
vered nearly all of Christian's head and face.
"Ach, no," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "Hurry, Bishop . . . go outside right quick!" she said, pointing to the window.
His eyes registered panic. "Was is letz? - what is wrong?"
Swiftly she rose to pull down the shades, instructing the children to stay in the kitchen as their grandfather rushed out the back door. She could see curiosity in their eyes, though they were obedient when Barbara suggested they all go quickly upstairs.
Nick trudged into the kitchen a few seconds later, struggling to carry his brother into the house. The bishop directed him to lay Christian on the table, where he stood over his unconscious son. Then, as if a light had gone on in his head, he pressed his fingers into Christian's neck, checking for a pulse. " 'Tis awful weak," he uttered, shaking with emotion. "Nick, what happened?"
Nick's face was as white as last winter's snows, his mouth turned down severely. He looked dreadfully guilty. "He fell," Nick muttered.
Barbara and Verna had gotten a bowl of cold water, the water rippling as their hands shook. With a cloth, Barbara dabbed at the gash still gushing blood from Christian's head. His face was deathly white and his chest did not rise and fall as before. Rose stood stock-still with horror ... not knowing what to do.
She looked again at Nick, who'd slumped back against the wall, leaning as though he might collapse without its support.
Then, she saw it - his long hair had been cut roughly, as if someone had taken a knife to it. His short, dark locks fell forward, cropped off just below his ears. Nick's breath came in a short gasp, and his arms hung limp.
Did he lose his temper?
"I'll run for help." Rose dashed out the back door and lifted her skirt as she ran as hard as she'd ever run through the bishop's pasture, then into Dat's own immense field, her lungs burning. Oh, dear Lord in heaven!
Never once did she slow her pace till she reached the old phone shanty. "Someone's terribly hurt," Rose told the operator, then gave the location of the bishop's house. "Please send help right away!"
The Thorn (The Rose Trilogy) Page 25