The Mercy

by Beverly Lewis

  She could hardly swallow. “So you’re moving ahead with the divorce?” She stared down at her folded hands. This was going terribly. Hen wished she hadn’t come.

  “I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression, but—”

  “No, no. I understand. Like you’ve said before, nothing has changed.”

  “Hen, please, hear me out.”

  “You live in your world, and I live in mine.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Everything has changed . . . at least for me.”

  She searched his face. “I don’t understand.”

  Brandon leaned forward. “Going blind, even temporarily, helped me see what I’ve been missing, what I was too imperceptive to realize before . . . too unwilling to grasp.”

  He spoke so earnestly and with such care that it gave her the courage she needed. “Brandon, I came to tell you I want to come home. That is, if you’re still willing to have me.”

  “What?” He frowned . . . then brightened.

  “I’m leaving the Amish life behind for you. For us.” She thought of their elopement. “And this time I mean it.”

  “Hen, I can’t let you do that.”

  “No, you’ve misunderstood. I want to come home, Brandon.”

  He leaned back on the sofa, his eyes intent on her. “I’ve known for a while that I was a fool to require you to wear modern clothes and pretend to be English when you’re clearly Amish through and through.”

  “But—”

  “I won’t let you give up something that makes you so obviously content. That would be cruel.”

  She wanted to please him, wanted to erase this serious frown on his handsome face.

  “When I was blind, I couldn’t see your Plain clothes, but I saw you, Hen . . . who you are, fully and completely. It took being without my physical sight to realize how terribly blind I was, that my wife is beautiful in every way, no matter what Amish dress she’s wearing.”

  Hen blushed and looked toward the window. The room was resplendent with sunlight, just as she’d always remembered. This lovely room . . .

  “I was surprised how you took care of me,” he continued, “even though I’d talked repeatedly about divorce.”

  She breathed in everything he was saying, hoping for more.

  “Your entire family accepted me despite everything, as if I belonged—not the outsider I’ve been determined to be.”

  “So then, why do you want to sell . . .” She couldn’t go on or she might cry.

  “The house?” He chuckled thoughtfully and rubbed his hands together. “I want to look for a place closer to your family, somewhere in the country.”

  She was stunned. “You’re telling me you want to move . . . closer?”

  “Honestly, Hen, I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the country. You know, the sound of barn swallows chattering in the distance.”

  “The way the haze hangs low on the fields first thing in the morning,” she said, knowing he’d seen it only once—the day he’d left.

  “And all that fresh air.” He laughed. “Do I sound like a poet?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”

  “I’ve been considering the idea for the past week. Maybe a house near Salem Road. What do you think?”

  “I . . .” She was overcome with joy. “Oh, Brandon, I don’t know what to say.”

  He ran a hand through his thick shock of hair. “Well, I figured if my wife and daughter weren’t going to budge, then I might as well go to them.” He moved over next to her on the sofa. “Would that be all right with you, my love?”

  She had to be dreaming. Brandon never talked like this—not even when they were dating.

  “I have to admit it,” he said with a trace of embarrassment. “There’s something about the Plain mindset—and their values, too.”

  “Brandon, I never thought I’d—”

  “Listen to me.” He slipped his good arm around her. “There’s something about you,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “I want us to be a family again . . . you, me, and Mattie Sue.”

  She longed for that, too.

  “We can have the best of both worlds—your Plain life intermingled with my English one. I know we can make it work.”

  “But how?”

  “Well, with God’s help.”

  She let it slip. “Jah,” she whispered.

  “Maybe we could attend the little country church near Salem Road, or sometimes go to the Amish Preaching service.”

  Now she knew she must be dreaming!

  Brandon held her near. “After learning to live without TV, I’d give that up in a heartbeat in exchange for telling stories and reading to Mattie Sue after supper.”

  “And in the blink of an eye, she’ll be doing math homework and want you to double-check it,” she added, laughing softly.

  He suggested there were many other things he enjoyed doing with their daughter. Things that would not cause a rift, like before.

  She heard the sincerity in his voice. He wasn’t kidding. Her husband was willing to sacrifice for her, just as she was for him. Like Dad suggested months ago. “Brandon, listen . . . I don’t have to wear Amish clothes, I really don’t.”

  “I’m cool with it—do as you wish.” He paused and reached for her hand. “I really am.”

  She smiled up at him. “I’ve come to realize that I can wear pretty dresses and skirts and not feel like I’m sinning. More important, I don’t have to dress Plain to be accepted by God.”

  “But I thought you wanted to join your parents’ church?” he asked.

  “I did, but my faith and my relationship with you are more important than the trappings of Amish life.” She paused, blinking back tears. “Don’t you see? I’d do most anything to be with you.”

  He pressed his face against hers. “Honey . . .”

  “I’m sorry for being so selfish.” Hen reached up and removed her Kapp and took the pins out to let down her long hair. “Can you forgive me?”

  Brandon did not answer with words. His eyes lingered over her hair, her eyes, and slowly, yet with resolve, he leaned near and his lips found hers. She surrendered gladly, nestling ever closer into his ardent embrace, joyfully returning his kisses.

  Not a sound was to be heard in the snowy field where Solomon had gone walking after church. He craved some time alone and a jaunt through his fields. Emma’s hospitalization caused him great concern, as had the dogmatic second sermon today, preached by Bishop Simon, the overseeing bishop from Bart. Nothing at all like Aaron’s preaching. Sol had tried not to allow any speck of resentment to raise its ugly head as he listened. Still, it was awful hard to see Aaron Petersheim sitting two rows in front of him and not feel pangs of sorrow for his neighbor. The clock was ticking toward the end of Aaron’s ministry.

  The People had stayed around longer than usual during today’s shared meal, perhaps because it was so cold no one was in a hurry to hitch up and head home. And, too, the fellowship brought its own sense of warmth on such a frigid day.

  Sol had noticed Hen and Rose sitting close together at a table during the second serving when the younger adults ate. Both looked rather solemn and he wondered what was going through their minds.

  Then, right after they arrived home from church, Hen left Mattie Sue with Rose and got in her car and rushed out of the driveway and up the road. Though she didn’t say, Sol presumed his daughter was hurrying off to see Brandon. And, oh, did he ever hope so!

  Earlier, while the men waited outdoors for the women to lay out the cold cuts and pie, Aaron had confided that Brandon had asked him to read from the Bible about God’s sovereignty the last time they’d talked. Sol wondered why he’d waited this long to say something, but he didn’t question the man of God—which was how he still viewed Aaron Petersheim and always would.

  When Sol asked about Brandon’s reaction to the Scripture reading, a slow, lingering smile came to Aaron’s ruddy face. “Well, he was all ears, that I can tell ya.”


  Sol had felt like he might burst right there. And thinking about it now, he still did. So he walked, letting all of this soak in.

  Instead of letting her leave for the farm alone, Hen was pleased when Brandon suggested riding along so they could tell Mattie Sue of their plan to move to the country. Brandon also thought the three of them might like to spend one more night together in the Dawdi Haus.

  On the way, they discussed replacing his car, which had been totaled in the accident, but Brandon didn’t exhibit any real urgency about it. He actually wondered aloud if it might be possible for them to get by with only one vehicle, even suggesting she might want to drive horse and buggy once in a while.

  “You mean it, Brandon?” She eyed him suspiciously as she drove the back roads.

  “Well, it would mean having to feed a horse. Guess we’d need a small barn, too.”

  She smiled. “I don’t think you’re serious.”

  “Think what you want . . . but I didn’t mention this idea merely to tease you.”

  “Mattie Sue would love having a horse, even if we don’t buy a buggy.”

  They talked about other ideas he had, such as having electricity but also gas lamps for occasional use.

  “For atmosphere, you mean?” She chuckled.

  “Well, why not?” He was flirting with her.

  “If it’s all right with you, then it’s fine with me.”

  “We’ll give Mattie Sue some of each of our worlds—how’s that?”

  Again, Hen was amazed—and delighted—at his eagerness to accommodate her. And all these thoughts had come to Brandon even before he’d known what she was willing to give up for him! God had found a way to bring them together, and it was truly for the best. Oh, wouldn’t her family be surprised!

  Back in the cozy Dawdi Haus late that afternoon, Mattie Sue was overjoyed. She snuggled with her daddy as they sat on the settee. “Are we goin’ to live close to Dawdi and Mammi?” She beamed at the news of Brandon’s search for a country house.

  “We’ll see what’s for sale, honey.”

  Mattie Sue pressed her face against his good arm.

  “You can come along with Mommy and me when we go looking, how’s that?”

  Hen had to purse her lips to keep them from quivering at the happiness of it all.

  This was like a scene from one of her sister’s many books. Thinking of that, Hen realized Rose didn’t know what Brandon and she were considering—her sister had been quick to shoo Mattie Sue home when she spotted Hen’s car in the drive, keeping herself out of the way. But, first things first, Hen must slow down and let things play out. She leaned back in the chair while Brandon answered Mattie Sue’s many questions, their daughter reminding Hen very much of herself.

  “Yes, I’ll stay with you and Mommy tonight—it’s our last night here, so we’ll celebrate.” Brandon kissed her rosy cheek. “Okay?”

  “And then we’ll pack up tomorrow, ain’t?”

  He looked at Hen. “There’s not much to pack, right, hon?”

  “I’m leaving my Amish clothes here, so not much, no.”

  “Can I wear my Amish dresses back at home, Daddy? Perty please?”

  Brandon shook his head. “Hmm . . . you said you want to dress like Mommy, right?” He winked at Hen.

  Mattie Sue’s eyes grew wide, her hand resting on his cast. Then a slow smile broke across her cute face. “Ach, I think you’re pullin’ my leg. Aren’t ya?”

  He kept a straight face for a moment. Then his eyebrows rose as he fessed up. “You—and Mommy—can wear whatever you’d like. Well, within reason.”

  Mattie Sue burst into giggles, clapping her hands. “I knew you were kidding!”

  Brandon said he’d return to pick them up after work tomorrow. “I’ll load up the car . . . and take both of you home with me.”

  “And then we’ll move to the new house in the country?” Mattie Sue asked.

  “We have to find it first, honey. We’ll trust the Lord for that,” Hen replied, hoping she wasn’t speaking out of turn.

  Brandon reached his arms around their little girl and nuzzled her cheek with his chin.

  Hen was riveted by the two of them. Brandon really was a devoted father. How could she ever have doubted it?

  Rose Ann rolled up on one elbow and looked at Hen from her spot on the old bed. They’d come upstairs to talk privately in Rose’s room while Mattie Sue and Brandon helped Dat in the barn, putting feed in the animals’ troughs. Rose studied her sister’s face and reached for a pillow, pushing it securely behind her. “This all happened so fast, ain’t?”

  Hen nodded her head. “God is surely working in us.”

  “Ach, and quicker than I ever dreamed possible.”

  Hen sighed. “I have a lot to make up for, insisting on my own way for so many months . . . about working at the fabric shop, for one thing.”

  “Are ya quitting, then?”

  Hen blinked and looked down at her hands. “Brandon and I haven’t talked about that, but I’m willing to give it up.”

  “Do ya think he’ll put his foot down, like before?”

  “I doubt it. He seems more relaxed. He’s changed . . . we both have.”

  Rose’s heart was warmed by the fact Hen had taken her into her confidence. Oh, to think her sister and husband were going to be together once more, their love renewed! And, with God’s help, maybe now they’d find true happiness, one that wasn’t tainted by selfish whims. It was as Rose had always hoped, in spite of the possibility that she might not see Hen as often again. And in that moment Rose realized that she, too, wanted something more than mere pretending and daydreaming about a lifelong love. She wanted to live in the here and now, not through her books.

  “Is there anything I can help you with tonight?” asked Rose.

  “You’re helping right now, just by being here.” Hen pulled her to her feet and gave her a sisterly hug. “And your prayers . . . you’ll keep us close that way, jah?”

  Rose promised. “Mamm will be overjoyed at this.”

  “Brandon and I’ll go see her soon and tell her ourselves. You have no idea how fond he’s become of Dad and Mom—all the family, really.”

  Rose opened her door and followed her sister downstairs, thinking how things would be from here on out and missing Hen already.

  When they stopped at the back door, Rose asked if she could come over tomorrow to help pack.

  “There’s very little to do, mostly Mattie Sue’s bedding and books and toys.”

  “We can make short work of that.”

  Hen smiled and kissed her cheek. “Mattie Sue would love having you come, if you’d like.”

  “I’ll let yous be tonight. Unless you want to have supper here. It will be just Dat and me.”

  Hen set her chin. “Denki, but I’m looking forward to spending our last evening just the three of us. I hope you understand.”

  Love makes people beautiful, Rose thought, gazing at her sister. Everything about her seemed to radiate joy. “No worry. Have a wonderful-gut evening together.”

  Smiling sweetly, Hen waved, saying, “Oh, we will” over her shoulder.

  Hen’s meaning had not been lost on her—tonight they wanted to embrace their own little family. Rose watched her sister step across the walkway to the Dawdi Haus one last time and wondered how she’d ever managed all the years Hen had lived in town. To think Hen and her family might live neighbors to them soon!

  Rose fairly danced back into the kitchen, hoping with all of her heart that nothing would change Brandon’s or Hen’s mind.

  What a wonderful new beginning, she thought.

  Washday dawned, and before Hen packed, she and Rose hung out the week’s washing for their grandparents, as well as for Dat. Hen had also laundered her Amish dresses and aprons, which she planned to leave behind, thinking Mammi Sylvia could offer them to one of the young women in the church. Rose suggested they didn’t have to concern themselves with that just yet—there was time to decide.

  H
en’s face shone as they worked. Of course, it might’ve been the brisk breeze that put a bright red cherry on each of Hen’s cheeks. Rose couldn’t imagine a better outcome for the three of them. The entire family. She thought of Mamm, recalling how much stronger she was last evening, when Rose went along with her father to visit after supper. She and Dat had been hard-pressed not to reveal Hen’s happy news, but they would leave that to her and Brandon, who planned to stop by the hospital later today. The very notion made Rose feel light with joy.

  Rose hurried out to the mailbox Tuesday, wondering if there might be mail from Isaac. Not only was there a letter from him, but there were two from Mamm, one for her and one for Dat. Her heart beat fast as she thought of Isaac’s letter, but she read the short one from Mamm first, comforted by the familiar handwriting. Mamm was quite sentimental, saying how much she missed everyone, just as she’d said Sunday evening when Rose visited her at the hospital. Mamm was eager to return home, and Rose could hardly wait for that day, as well.

  It’d be awful nice if you could tell Barbara I’m grateful for her prayers and her love. Will you give her my greeting, Rose, dear? When I’m stronger, I’ll write to her, too.

  Rose brushed away her tears, hoping to visit Mamm again soon with Dat. Things were so quiet around here with Hen and Mattie Sue gone. Rose hoped Mamm’s days of rehabilitation—she was scheduled to be moved to a center in Lancaster later this week—would speed by.

  After rising to stoke the fire, Rose read Isaac’s letter. What had he written this time? Curious, she tore open the envelope.

  Dear Rose,

  How are you? I hope you and your family—your Mamm especially—are doing well.

  We had a no-Preaching day on Sunday, so there was plenty of visiting going on. Some of my cousins told me about a gathering nearby, this coming Saturday evening. Would you like to go? I’d come pick you up in a car driven by one of my Mennonite cousins. Likely it will be too cold for you to ride both ways in my open buggy, and I can’t ask for the family carriage. My parents will be using it to visit Bishop Simon and his wife for supper that night.