The Mercy

by Beverly Lewis

  My dad . . . Before his return, he’d never referred to Aaron that way.

  “I really hope Bishop Simon lifts the silencing,” she said. “It never should’ve happened.”

  Nick sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “I’m to blame for that. I have so much work to do to offer atonement.”

  She was nearly stricken by his remark. “The Lord will forgive ya, Nick. Only He can atone for our wrongdoing.”

  “I believe that. Mrs. Schaeffer taught me to anchor my heart to the Cross—something I never understood before. You know the woman I’m talking about?”

  “The director at the shelter, jah.”

  “She helped my mother understand how to receive the Lord before she died.” He paused to gather himself. “She taught me to pray from my heart . . . like I’m talking with a close friend.”

  Rose had never heard him speak about God like this. “Such wonderful news!” she said with a jubilant heart.

  Nick laughed softly, the sound ringing through the shadows.

  They began to walk slowly again, and Rose wondered if there was more he wanted to say. “I’m curious. Are ya goin’ to grow your hair out like the rest of the menfolk?” She was testing him.

  “I certainly will.”

  She stopped walking. “I hope things go well for you with Bishop Simon tomorrow.”

  “Denki, I’ll let you know . . . if that’s all right?”

  “Sure,” she said. “But I’d best be goin’ now.”

  “Rosie . . .”

  The way he said her name sent a charge through her. She couldn’t let them fall back into their romantic ways. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t—for both Isaac’s and her sake.

  “We’ll talk again, jah?” She gave Nick that much before turning to hurry through the tunnel of trees toward home.

  Dat carried Mamm carefully through the summer kitchen and out the back door to the family carriage Sunday afternoon. He’d chosen Alfalfa, their most docile horse, for the fifteen-minute ride over to Mose and Ruthann’s.

  Rose climbed in next to Mamm, making sure the special seat padding and pillow were situated behind her. Rose was anxious to see Mose and his family again, especially young Jonas, Barbara Ann, and little Sally.

  “Such a lovely day. I feel so cheered—better than I have in years.” Mamm smiled at her.

  “The sunshine’s surely been gut for ya,” Dat added. “And all the therapy you’ve been havin’ . . .”

  Rose had to agree. “Maybe seein’ Hen and Brandon so happy makes a difference, as well. And knowin’ their new baby is comin’ soon.” Rose, too, was relieved her sister had settled down for good. Hen had even shared some time ago that she and Brandon were looking for a church!

  The carriage rolled along at a comfortable clip. On either side, rows of corn were aligned right up to the ditches, where bushy spikes of foxtail grass grew. The rich, dark earth flashed between the rows, but it was nothing like the blur of scenery she’d witnessed the times she’d traveled by van.

  Presently, Rose watched a flock of robins fly out of the highest bough of a cottonwood tree as the horse and carriage passed. She felt considerably more relaxed today, after last night’s talk with Nick.

  “I heard from Barbara that Nick’s workin’ long days for Aaron,” Mamm said suddenly.

  Rose wondered why she would mention this and waited to see if Dat would say anything. But there was complete silence on the right side of the buggy, so she assumed Dat was hoping for the best with Nick but inwardly skeptical. As many still are . . .

  She glanced at Petersheims’ farmhouse as they rode past; she didn’t want to be caught gawking. Bad enough that she’d followed Nick on the canopied path last night. She understood his wanting her friendship again, but much had changed since last fall, when he’d run off. So very much . . .

  At Mose and Ruthann’s, Rose immediately spotted her nephew and nieces outside playing “horsey.” Jonas made neighing sounds and bobbed his head, a knotted rope tied to his waist as he pulled his younger sisters, Barbara Ann and Sally, in a makeshift cart.

  “Well, lookee there.” Dat got such a kick out of his grandchildren. “Mose used to play horsey like that with his own brothers back when he was Jonas’s age.”

  “All Amish children do at one time or ’nother,” Mamm added.

  Rose was also reminded of Beth’s thrill at riding in the pony cart.

  “Kumme play with us, Aendi Rose,” Jonas called as he trotted over to Mose and Ruthann, who sat on lawn chairs trying to keep cool.

  “You make a better horse than I do,” Rose said, laughing.

  “Jah, she’s too old for that,” Mose said, a merry glint in his eyes.

  “Oh, now, you!” Rose waggled her finger at her brother. Then she went to greet Ruthann, who gripped her hand instead of getting up.

  Dat carried Mamm up to the porch and set her in one of the vacant chairs, then shook Mose’s hand in greeting.

  Rose pictured herself sitting on a porch with Isaac, years from now, drinking homemade root beer, watching their children play on a manicured lawn. She imagined them swinging on a long rope in the hayloft, squealing with glee as they took turns.

  It was fun to think of Mattie Sue soon having a baby brother or sister. She wondered if Hen secretly had a preference—maybe a son this time, for Brandon’s sake.

  “We have oodles of raspberries comin’ on awful fast,” Ruthann was saying. “I’ve been out picking but can’t keep up. I’ve sold more pints than I can count at our roadside stand.” She mentioned the neighbor girl was coming over tomorrow again to help pick, after the washing was out.

  “You want us to come make some jam?” Rose offered with a glance at Mamm.

  “Oh, would ya?” Ruthann said. “That’d be such a help. And fun, too!”

  Mamm said she’d join in if Dat would bring her, and Rose suggested also inviting Mammi Sylvia and Barbara Petersheim. Ruthann brightened. “Mammi might keep an eye on little Sally while we work. She’s getting into everything these days.”

  Ruthann returned her attention to Rose. “So, how’re things over in Bart?” she asked rather sheepishly.

  Rose gave her sister-in-law a quick frown, hoping to discourage any further talk of Isaac, but not before her mother gave Rose an appraising look. Ach, so surprising Ruthann would ask such a thing!

  Rose thought about Isaac, wondering if he might ask her to marry him soon . . . and if they’d use his preacher or hers for their vows. Isaac’s in Bart might be inconvenient, living that far away from her parents’ house, where the wedding service would take place.

  But Rose shouldn’t fret just yet. She knew better. Worry leads to gray hair, Mamm had always said, pointing to her own.

  The afternoon was hot and humid, and Rose offered to go in and pour some cold root beer for everyone. Gratefully, they all accepted, and Rose went into the kitchen. As she set the glasses on a tray, she saw a pattern for crocheted booties on the table. Later, when she returned outside, Rose noticed the way Ruthann protectively folded her hands against her stomach. She handed the glass to her, thinking happily that yet another Kauffman grandbaby was on the way. Oh, to have one of her own someday!

  After supper Tuesday evening, Brandon and Hen dropped by with Mattie Sue to visit. Hen was in the process of gathering family recipes and began to jot down several while Mamm recited ingredients and instructions from memory.

  Mattie stayed around only a short time before asking Dawdi Sol if they could go see the calves. Rose went with them to the back door just as Nick wandered over to say hello to Mattie Sue in the yard.

  He gave a nod to Dat before saying to Mattie, “I saw your family’s car pull up and thought I’d come by.”

  Mattie Sue ran over to him and asked if he’d like to join them in the barn.

  “Sure,” Nick said, his eyes on Dat, “but only if it’s okay with your Dawdi.”

  Dat gave his assent and excused himself for a minute at Mamm’s call, leaving Nick with Mattie
Sue.

  In short order, Nick picked up Mattie and set her high on his shoulders, Mattie’s melodious laughter ringing out in the muggy air. Soon she was saying how much she missed him.

  “Where’ve ya been all this time?” Mattie asked.

  Rose smiled as she watched them head to the barn. Nick ducked comically in the open doorway, and Mattie Sue giggled again and patted his straw hat as they disappeared inside. Rose moved away from the screen door, going back to visit with Mamm and Hen as Dat made his way outdoors. Why did it sometimes seem as though time had stood still while Nick was gone? As if nothing much had happened.

  Saturday night arrived—the evening Rose usually spent with Isaac for their weekly date. Instead of sitting home while he was in New Jersey at the ocean, Rose decided after redding up the kitchen to visit Hen.

  She told her parents where she was going and left the house, making a beeline for the stable door. The barn was still warm and humid from the hot day as she slipped into her favorite horse’s stall. Months had passed since she’d last gone horseback riding, but since she didn’t feel like taking the time to hitch George up to the buggy on this muggy night, she would simply ride horseback to Hen’s.

  George chuffed about, uncooperative at first. She talked quietly, calming him as only she knew how. “You’re hot, too, aren’t ya, sweet boy?”

  The horse nuzzled her chin.

  “And you’re rarin’ to go.” She stroked his neck and offered a sugar cube. “We’ll have us a nice ride.” Glancing out the window, she hoped Nick wouldn’t see her and think she wanted him to join her. Now that she thought of that possibility, she wondered if she ought to be taking George at all. But George raised his head, eager as always. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

  “All right, we’ll go,” she said, leaning her face close to his nose. “You ready?”

  George’s glossy eyes followed her as Rose approached him to mount on the left. Then they were off, taking Salem Road up to the first crossroad and over north to Brandon and Hen’s pretty farmhouse.

  Upstairs at Hen’s, Rose enjoyed seeing the pastel yellow and green baby things her sister was making for the nursery. The cozy room was as large as Rose’s own bedroom, with a sturdy oak rocker Brandon had asked Dat to make. The crib was already in place, as well as an antique bureau and dressing table with a cushy yellow pad.

  Hen also showed her a new wall hanging she was making—still in many pieces. “It’s similar to Mattie Sue’s,” her sister explained.

  “You’re ready for either a boy or a girl, jah?”

  Hen touched the patchwork pieces she would soon quilt. “Between us, Rose, it doesn’t matter to me. Having another little girl would be such fun for Mattie Sue, but a boy would be nice for Brandon. I’m sure he wouldn’t be too keen on taking a girl out hunting, you know?”

  “Well, a girl could go fishin’.”

  Hen’s hazel eyes twinkled as she glanced toward the window facing George, tied up outdoors. “And a girl could go horseback riding with Aendi Rose.”

  This made Rose laugh softly.

  “Does Dat care that you ride George?” asked Hen more quietly.

  Rose pressed her lips together. “I really don’t ride much anymore. Hardly ever.”

  “So it’s all right as long as you don’t go often?”

  Hen had her but good—her sister knew that the brethren frowned on grown folk riding. Horses were for pulling carriages and fieldwork. “Well, once I’m married, I prob’ly won’t.”

  “You probably won’t?”

  Rose giggled.

  “So, dare I ask if the wedding will be this autumn?”

  Rose tried not to smile and looked away.

  “Seems you’re not going to tell me.” Hen nodded knowingly and led her to Mattie Sue’s room, showing off two new frilly white pillows she’d recently made. They sat on the neatly made bed as Hen told Rose her idea to sell baked goods out on the back screened porch to bring in extra “pin money” for baby clothes and other nursery items. “Arie Zook is doing the same thing this summer,” Hen said.

  “I like the idea.”

  “And Brandon’s fine with it since I’m not working at the fabric shop anymore.”

  Rose touched her hand. “Do ya miss it, sister?”

  “Some days, but all in all, not so much.”

  “You seem very happy,” Rose said.

  Hen reached to hug her. “The Lord’s been so good to me and Brandon . . . mending our hearts. Our marriage has never been stronger.”

  Rose squeezed her tight. “So gut to hear.”

  When they returned downstairs, Rose found Brandon and Mattie Sue doing a paint-by-number page at the kitchen table. Rose wandered over to watch, and Mattie Sue quickly explained that it was from a Bible story.

  “Baby Moses in his basket,” Mattie Sue told her.

  Hen found her recipe notebook and went with Rose to the front room. The flick of a switch brought a flood of light.

  “Do you miss usin’ gas lamps?” Rose was curious to know.

  “Oh, sometimes.” Hen had a faraway look. “But modern conveniences are best for our life together, and that’s what matters.” She opened her notebook. “Some of these recipes have been around for generations but have never been in print. I want to make a book for each family in the church district,” Hen said. “As a little thank-you for the months Mattie Sue and I lived at Salem Road.”

  Rose nodded and blinked back tears. “It was a learning time.”

  “Oh, goodness, more than you know.”

  They perused through the recipes, and when Hen asked Rose to write one or two of her favorites, Rose decided on hot water sponge cake and Amish meat loaf.

  Later, Hen remarked how very sultry the nights were. “We’ve talked about installing air-conditioning, but I’m not so sure we really need it, and Brandon’s leaving it to me to decide what I’m comfortable with.”

  “What about fans?”

  “Oh, we have them going, believe me.” Hen laughed. “But they just push the hot air around.”

  Rose looked about, taking in all the beautiful things Hen had on display—the china cups and saucers she’d collected through the years, and the satiny throw pillows in tans and brown scattered across the upholstered sofa. Some of the furniture in this room was new, as were two framed prints. One had the look of an old painting—a shepherd girl in a lovely meadow with a lamb in the crook of her arm.

  Hen’s voice grew softer. “Have you heard that Nick’s session in Bart with Bishop Simon ran amok? Arie’s husband, Elam, told her so.”

  “What on earth?! No . . . I hadn’t heard. What’ll happen now?”

  “Bishop Simon wants a longer proving time for Nick than is typical. According to Elam, Bishop Simon and Old Ezekiel are going to discuss it soon.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “They want to see if Nick actually follows through and attends baptismal instruction and whatnot. Everything he does is being scrutinized.”

  “Is part of it that he confessed his role in Christian’s death?”

  “Evidently he did, but Bishop Simon seemed to think Nick’s story had too many holes.”

  “Well, for pity’s sake.” And here Rose had hoped Nick’s return might benefit his foster father. “I hope Nick’s coming back won’t be for naught.”

  “It just might be. Bishop Simon’s nearly as traditional and strict as Old Ezekiel, and he’s peeved that Aaron didn’t manage to get Nick into the church years ago. And now with folks still suspecting he’s had a hand in Christian’s death . . .”

  Rose didn’t know what to think, but she knew she didn’t like hearing things third- or fourth-hand. Surely Dat would know more directly from Aaron. Oh, her heart ached for their wonderful neighbor-bishop. To think Nick might not be able to make a difference after all!

  On the Lord’s Day, Mamm got ready to attend Preaching service for the first time since her surgery. She was feeling better as each week passed and eager for church.

/>   Rose watched as her father took the wheelchair out of the back of the buggy and carried it into the temporary house of worship. Soon he returned to carry Mamm into the big farmhouse, where he placed her gently in the padded wheelchair near the back of the gathering room.

  Rose waited with Mamm in the large, empty room while Dat went outdoors to line up with the men and boys, prior to the start of the service. “Are ya feelin’ all right, Mamm?” Rose asked.

  “My dear girl, I’ve been yearnin’ for this day since returning home.” Mamm folded her hands and smiled with expectation.

  They heard the ordained brethren entering the house, and as they filed into the room, Rose was relieved to see Aaron Petersheim still included with the group of ministers, though she couldn’t help but recall Hen’s discouraging news.

  How long before he’s completely cast aside?

  The day was already stifling, and Rose wished they’d held the meeting in the barn like they often did during July and August. They were all stuffed indoors because strong winds were forecast for later in the morning. Mamm, bless her heart, might need to be wheeled out to the porch early to get some air.

  Once again, Rose missed seeing Hen and Mattie Sue here, on Mamm’s special day of return. It was comforting, however, to know that Hen and her little family were also attending church somewhere today. Soon the older men, including Dawdi Jeremiah, entered, followed by the next generation—her Dat and other menfolk in his age group. And then the unmarried fellows walked in, arranged by age—the older ones followed by the younger.

  Nick Franco came in with the other courting-age young men, including Hank Zook and Ezra Lapp and dozens of others. If this was a normal year, more than half of them would be married come wedding season.

  Nick went to sit on the second row of benches with Aaron’s sons-in-law, including Verna’s husband, Levi, who had made repeated attempts to befriend Nick through the years. All of them sat with heads bowed in an attitude of prayer.

  When everyone was gathered inside, Mamm reached for Rose’s hand and clasped it gently. During the first hymn, her eyes shone with joyful tears. O Lord, bless my mother with your loving-kindness this day, Rose prayed silently.