The preacher then gave his customary welcome to the membership and youth gathered there. “Gnade sei mit euch und Freide von Gott unser Vater. Grace be with you and peace from God, our Father.”
Fleetingly, Rose let her mind drift back to the times she’d sat with her mother in church, with the other women. She had been at Mamm’s side other times, too—at market as a little girl, where she helped set up the display table of embroidered items and all the jars of jams and jellies. It wasn’t till after Mamm’s accident that she’d begun to make and sell the boy and girl cloth dolls, all faceless—except for the one with the downturned mouth and sad eyes. She knew she ought to pull out the stitching on that one so her nieces wouldn’t see it. It was her responsibility to provide them with a devout example in life, just as so many had done for her.
Rose’s focus had only just returned to the orderly service when a howling wind and driving rain came up suddenly, gusting in through the open windows. Nick was one of the young men who leaped to his feet to help close them.
What’s become of the boy who wanted nothing to do with church? She observed him with not only curiosity but wonder.
After the rainstorm blew over, Rose and Leah Miller ran into each other outside during the first seating of the shared meal. While the ministerial brethren and visitors ate, Rose stood under the shade of a big maple tree, trying to escape the noontime heat as she waited for the youth to be called in for their seating. Leah smiled brightly as they greeted each other.
They made small talk while they fanned their perspiring faces with the hems of their white aprons; then Leah mentioned Rose’s younger cousin Sarah. “She was mighty surprised to see Nick at the first instructional class early this morning. Before church, over at the preacher’s house.”
Rose had expected to hear this, based on what Nick had told her. Even so, she was glad to hear he had actually gone.
Leah continued. “Sarah says he seems real different. Like he’s livin’ in the same skin as before but with a new heart.”
Did Bishop Simon sense any of this? Rose mused. Alas, the Bart bishop had only just met Nick. How would he know how much the young man had changed?
Someone rang the dinner bell, and Rose and Leah and the other young people made their way toward the house. Several of the fellows lagged behind, discreetly eyeing the girls.
Please, Lord, give the overseeing bishops your wisdom alone, Rose prayed as she headed indoors.
An hour after Dat and Mamm left, Rose was still helping redd up after the common meal. She hadn’t wanted to leave too quickly, hoping to talk more with Leah Miller. The pair were now walking toward home together, being careful not to step in the many mud puddles on the road. They walked companionably awhile without saying much amidst the sound of crickets and a few rowdy crows over yonder near Millers’ big spread. The heavy rains had turned the fields into a shimmering green mantle.
Leah paused in her stride. “Well, I wasn’t goin’ to say anything,” she began, her voice faltering, “but from what Jake has indicated, he’s more traditional than his twin brother. But maybe you know this already.”
“Know what?”
“That Isaac’s pushin’ the Ordnung a bit.”
Rose knew he enjoyed the line dances and whatnot, but she hadn’t thought he was in danger of crossing any serious boundaries.
“Does Isaac ever talk of his Englischer employer?” asked Leah.
“A little.” Rose wished for the paper fan she’d left back at the house. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“Just that he’s spending a lot of time with them.”
“Like this weekend’s trip to the ocean?”
“There’s some concern surrounding that, jah.”
Rose took this in. “Well, Isaac knows I’m baptized Amish. Why would he court me unless he plans to join church himself?”
Leah shrugged. “Sorry—not sure I should’ve said anything.”
Rose touched Leah’s arm. “What more are ya tryin’ to say?”
Leah glanced about, as if concerned someone other than Rose might hear. “Jake worries the farmer’s family will rent bikes on the boardwalk . . . and that Isaac will, too.”
Rose shook her head. “I really doubt Isaac would do that. Besides, he’s not baptized yet.”
“Guess I stuck my foot in my mouth,” Leah said with a sidelong glance. “Don’t mean to sound like a gossipy hen.”
“Oh, I don’t mind you tellin’ me. But Jake doesn’t have anything to worry about,” she assured Leah.
They walked to the end of the lane and parted ways. Several buggies passed Rose as she headed toward Salem Road, kicking up mud as they went. Silas Good rumbled by and waved, an unmarried sister on either side of him, looking mighty uncomfortable all jammed together in a buggy meant for two.
Rose waved to Silas and his sisters, glad she’d removed her dark hose and shoes in the outhouse after Preaching so they wouldn’t be ruined. Even though her toes squished into the mire on the road, she didn’t mind going without shoes.
She thought of Isaac running barefoot on the wet sand at the beach, hoping his time at the shore was as innocent as she’d dared to claim.
Solomon had witnessed firsthand Aaron’s benevolence toward Nick, offering him a job, as well as two vacant bedrooms to use upstairs, including Christian’s old room. Whenever Sol thought of it, these gestures struck him as almost inconceivable.
But when he voiced this to Emma as they settled on the porch following Sunday afternoon barn chores, Emma reminded him that he, too, had been merciful to a wayward one: their own daughter Hen.
Funny, but he’d never thought of it quite like that. Sol saw his wife’s point, though, and patted her hand as they drank the ice-cold lemonade Sylvia had made. He could hear his mother-in-law humming snippets from the Ausbund hymnal through the screen door as she puttered around the kitchen, making sandwiches from the eggs she’d hard-boiled yesterday.
“What do you s’pose Aaron’s daughters and their husbands think of his extending such generosity to Nick?” asked Emma.
“Well, I know Anna’s husband ain’t so keen on it. Says we ought to be careful, since Nick was most likely responsible for Christian’s death—let his anger get away with him, an’ all.”
Emma set her glass down on the small table between their wicker chairs. “But isn’t that the same as withholding forgiveness?”
“We’re human, Emma.” He looked at her. “I know what I said . . . yet I just want to be on the safe side when it comes to our family . . . ’specially Rose Ann.”
“But the Lord forgives.”
“He surely does,” Sol said.
“And don’t forget what Aaron asked of us.”
“I want to honor his request and welcome his son back, but it breaks my heart to think of Nick getting it in his head to pursue our daughter again.” Sol couldn’t bear the thought of telling Emma he’d seen Rose dash out to the meadow a week ago, calling to Nick as if they were a courting couple. He bit his lip—it was a dangerous thing, the bond that still existed between them.
“So you must think Nick killed his brother, then?”
“Nothing changes the fact they were together when Christian was injured. And they were quarreling viciously before they went riding—I saw them carryin’ on.” Sol ran his hand over his beard. “Only the Lord knows what happened afterward.”
“You must not believe Nick told the truth that day, then.”
“Well, neither does Bishop Simon, I’m told.”
Emma persisted. “We know for sure Nick helped Christian home after he was hurt.”
“Jah, ’tis true.”
“Nick could’ve left him be, ain’t? Could’ve run off right then, but he took the time to bring Christian back, slung over his own horse, leading Christian’s horse behind him.” She paused, trembling slightly. “I never understood that, and quite frankly, neither does Barbara.”
Sol turned. “She told ya this?”
Emma nodded.
Sol hadn’t thought about it in this light. His wife had certainly been pondering this plenty, with little to do but read and pray and rest. “Don’t fret, whatever ya do,” he said. “All right, love?”
“ ’Tis a mystery, I’ll say.”
“And one that might never be solved,” said Sol.
They listened to the sounds of deep summer around them as they sipped their drinks—a mule whinnying in the barn and the birds twittering and calling in the backyard trees. An airplane flew over, making a racket, scaring a whole flock of robins out of sheltering branches.
“Just lookee there,” he said.
“Who’d ever want to go so fast?” Emma said softly, covering her ears.
“Who indeed?” Sol thought of those who’d left the church over the years. Not many had ever returned—less than a handful. Sometimes he wondered if Nick Franco should’ve stayed out in the world, too . . . where he belonged.
Sylvia stepped outside and surprised them with a big bowl of cold watermelon cut up in squares. Sol told her it hit the spot, and she sat and had a few bites along with them, remarking on the scorching heat of the day. Sylvia mentioned a circle letter she’d received yesterday. “I read that a church district out in Mount Hope, Ohio, has decided to raise some money for an ailing church member. They’re having a haystack supper.”
Sol wondered if she might be concerned about Emma’s medical bills, but he’d made a very reasonable arrangement with the York hospital, as well as the osteopathic hospital in Lancaster, to make payments over the period of a year. Along with some hefty assistance from the church’s benevolence fund, if Sol pinched his pennies, he ought to have a zero balance by next spring. If the rains keep coming, Sol thought. They were completely dependent upon the Lord for the corn and hay harvests.
Sylvia mentioned how impressed Jeremiah was that Aaron had welcomed Nick back “in such a fashion” before she wandered back into the house. Sol and Emma’s conversation turned to the morning sermons, and eventually, Sol brought up Nick’s place at Preaching this morning—sitting clear up near the front. “Just think, Emma. What if he’d already joined church, say, years ago? What might things have been like then?”
His wife dabbed her eyes and brow with her hankie. “Awful sad, really, how things turned out.”
Sol agreed. Nick was, after all, only now preparing to make his kneeling vow. Whether or not he followed through remained to be seen. For Aaron’s sake—and for the Lord’s—Sol could only hope and pray it would be so.
After supper, Rose walked across the back lawn, toward the stable, wanting to talk to her father about Nick. But as she approached the barn, she heard a car pull into the driveway. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Mattie Sue’s little hand waving out the window at her.
“We’ve come for dessert,” Mattie announced with a grin.
Rose hurried over to greet them. She leaned in Mattie Sue’s open window. “You’re just in time,” Rose told them. Mamm would be ready for sweets, for sure. “Come on in.”
Brandon got out and went around the car to open the door for Hen. They walked hand-in-hand toward the house with Mattie skipping ahead, asking if Dawdi Sol was out with the horses. Hen told her to mind her manners and go inside with them to visit Mammi Emma first. And Mattie Sue willingly obeyed.
Mamm was delighted to see the three of them, making over Mattie Sue and smiling blissfully when Brandon leaned down to kiss her cheek. They all chattered at once, starting with talk of the various church services and all the excitement of the rainstorm, and ending with remarks about the coming baby, who was to be named either Andrew or Emmalie, after Emma. The news made Mamm smile brightly.
Dat must’ve heard the racket, because he came in and sat at the head of the table, where he visited with Brandon to his left. Rose got a kick out of the good-natured banter, and she thought how, just last year, Brandon had been alienated from their family by his choosing. Well, thank God for his change in heart, thought Rose as she carried a lemon sponge pie to the table. Then, going back to the counter, she brought over a beautiful white chocolate cake to share, as well.
Dat was telling Brandon the latest from his distant cousin in Wisconsin. Seems he’d written that one of the church districts there had planned a “mystery trip” to another state to tour an old prison that had been in use for a hundred years. “Now, don’t that beat all?” Dat said, a twinkle in his eye. “How’d ya like to go an’ see a prison for a church outing?”
This brought plenty of laughter to the whole table, including Mamm, who seemed to be enjoying herself as she took it all in. Rose also had to smile at Dat’s telling as she handed the cake knife to Hen after first slicing the pie.
“This same cousin told ’bout a little excitement he had when his horse got spooked by a school bus,” Dat continued. “The horse ran lickety-split like a house a-fire down the road, chasing after it. Maybe the bright yellow color was to blame. Anyway, when he couldn’t get the horse to slow down or stop, my cousin jumped out of the buggy. Poor man, he broke his ankle and a bone in his other leg. But—get this—the horse eventually came to a halt, and my cousin’s little white dog somehow managed to stay perched on the buggy seat through it all.”
Hen shook her head, amazed, as was Mattie Sue, who asked for yet another story. Merriment prevailed. But Mamm, tittering softly, placed her hand on Dat’s arm, as if to say things were getting a bit yachdich—noisy—for the Lord’s Day.
In a much quieter voice, Dat leaned forward on the table. “How would ya like to learn to ride a pony, honey-girl?” he asked Mattie Sue.
“Ride? Not in the pony cart?” Her eyes sparkled with joy.
“No, smack-dab in the middle of the pony.”
She leaped off the bench and ran to him, threw her arms around his neck, and leaned her face against his whiskers. “Ach, Dawdi, this is the bestest surprise ever!”
Dat said not a word as he squeezed the stuffing out of her. Rose smiled. What a wonderful-gut day this is! She glanced at Brandon, who wore a big grin . . . his thumbs turned up as if to say Denki.
Rose finished reading a psalm before extinguishing the lantern that night. Her eyes were tired and she was ready to fall asleep. When she said her silent prayers, she included Nick, asking God to help him stay on the straight and narrow, knowing what it would do to his parents if he should fall by the wayside again.
She was still curious to know what Nick had said to Bishop Simon last week. Her father had looked awfully tired and headed off to bed with Mamm earlier than usual following Bible reading and evening prayers. So Rose hadn’t had the chance to talk to Dat about that—again. Maybe it was all for the best, anyway. After all, she didn’t want her interest to give him the wrong impression.
She’d gone to her room and sorted through Isaac’s letters, arranging them in chronological order, the very first to the most recent. She tried to imagine what Isaac might be doing right now at the beach. In six short days, she’d see him again, and he’d tell her all about it.
What might she say if Isaac admitted to doing anything rash, as Leah had suggested. Surely her beau had more sense than that, when he meant to join church someday! Surely . . .
Yet Leah’s remarks lingered long in Rose’s mind, and it was all she could do to set them aside, fretting over her beau’s supposed strong leanings toward the world.
The following Wednesday morning, Rose helped Beth Browning’s grandmother rearrange and organize her dresser drawers and clothes closet. Rose also dusted the furniture and windowsills in the new addition, and washed the windows inside and out.
Later, Beth helped Rose do some cooking. Beth talked happily about her father, saying he was now regularly writing to Jane Keene. “And he calls her sometimes, too—makes him really happy to talk to her.”
A few minutes later, the Brownings’ neighbor Donna Becker dropped by with some black raspberries, still warm from the sun, enough for Rose to make two pies. Beth wanted to try her hand at baking, so they rolled out the pie do
ugh together while Beth’s grandmother sang an old folk hymn from the kitchen table, where she sat sorting through a recipe file. Rose had heard the song several times at the big barn Singings with Isaac: “In the Sweet By and By.”
We shall meet on that beautiful shore, thought Rose, wondering what Beth’s dear mother was doing in heaven right now. Was she spending time with loved ones gone before? Sitting beneath the Tree of Life?
She looked at Beth, so sweetly trusting and innocent. Yet she’d grown a lot since Rose met her last year, from being nearly afraid to express herself to anyone but her father . . . to feeling totally at ease with Rose and others. Rose felt it was good that her grandmother lived here now. Surely it was a blessing for Beth to have a woman in the house to talk to.
“Grandma sings a lot,” Beth said with a crooked smile. “She says she had a really high voice when she was young, but now it’s sunk lower.”
“People’s voices change as they age,” Rose said, thinking of her own grandparents.
“She used to sing in a choir when she was my age. In college somewhere . . . I forget.”
Rose wondered if Beth wished she could attend college, too. She seemed bright in some ways but struggled greatly in others.
When it was time, they each slid a glass pie plate into the oven. “One’s for you to take home, Rosie.”
“Denki.” Rose didn’t have the heart to say they had black raspberries coming out their ears. But she thought of Hen and Brandon and knew they’d welcome the scrumptious pie. Especially if there’s whipped cream to top it off!
After quickly dropping off the still-warm pie at Hen’s, Rose noticed a homemade sign on one of the English neighbor’s fence posts, not far up from Brandon and Hen’s. Nickers ’n’ Neighs—Horse Boarding.
The Mercy Page 19