The Judgment (9 page)

Rose was happy to walk outside with Silas now that the sky had cleared. They headed around to the back of the barn, where they were less obvious. She’d kept her eye out for Rebekah off and on after the Singing, hoping the so-called new girl might not end up alone for the remainder of the evening.

“You seem quiet tonight.” Silas leaned down to smile at her in the white light of the full moon.

“Just concerned about Rebekah, I guess.” She sighed.

“She seems happy enough.”

“She told ya that?”

“I just think she’s glad to be back where she grew up.”

Rose nodded and gazed out at the brilliant fields. “Aren’t we lucky to live in such a pretty place?”

“Jah, and sometime soon, I’d like to take ya on a tour of a spot I think’s the prettiest—my father’s dairy farm.”

“It would be nice to get better acquainted with your sisters someday, too.”

“Oh, they’d welcome that, for sure.”

She thought of Rebekah—how odd that she’d been called upon to help with the Mast twins when there were plenty of young single women already here, such as Silas’s own unmarried sisters. “Too bad it’s so late in November . . . for Rebekah’s sake.” Typically by autumn of each year, the fellows had already picked their girls to date or court.

“Well, she didn’t come here to get a beau, even though she’s quite solidly Amish. She’s never been one to push the boundaries of propriety.”

“I’m just thinkin’ about what she told me,” Rose said.

“What’s that?”

“Something Annie Mast’s husband said.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently Noah hopes she’ll find a husband here.” Rose didn’t wait for Silas to respond. “I have to say I like her a lot . . . she’s grown up so much.”

“We all have, jah?” He chuckled, reaching for her hand.

She listened as he began talking about other things, but one comment he’d made niggled at her:
What does he mean,
Rebekah’s “solidly Amish”?

She dismissed it as they strolled together out near a small pond, talking softly and enjoying each other’s company. It had been a long time since they’d gone walking, and she always cherished their private times. It would’ve been silly to stick her neck out and repeat what Melvin had mentioned earlier. Truly, the notion of there being something special between Silas and Rebekah seemed altogether flawed now.

Rose breathed in the fresh, crisp night air, smiling as Silas’s hand interlaced with hers.
I’m with my darling and nothing else matters!

At first Beth seemed resistant to letting Hen help her to bed, then tuck her in for the night. Hen had taken great care to give Beth her privacy while she changed into her nightclothes, waiting in the hallway till she said she was ready. Meanwhile, Mattie Sue was downstairs at the kitchen table, talking to her own stuffed animals, lining them all up on the kitchen bench.

“I miss Daddy,” whimpered Beth now as Hen sat on the edge of Rose’s bed. “I want him to come home soon.”

“Your grandpa needs his help right now. I’m sure your father will return just as soon as he can.”

Beth frowned. “If Grandpa dies, we’ll have to move again.”

“Why do you think that?” Hen asked gently.

“Daddy says Grandma’s too weak—she can’t live by herself. I remember how sad he looked when he told me. Almost as sad as when Mommy died.”

“Well, let’s not worry about that now.” Hen pulled up the top quilt and folded it down near Beth’s willowy neck. “You’ll feel better when you see Rose, jah?”

Beth’s face peeked out from the quilts. “She’s my
best
friend,” Beth said firmly. “I prayed for a friend . . . and God answered my prayer.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them.

Hen nodded, trying to understand her childlike faith, as well as the way she seemed to want to be treated. “When you wake up, Rose Ann will be right here, next to you.” She pointed to the other side of the bed. “I promise.”

“Why’s she gone so late?”

Hen smiled, recalling how she had asked her mom the same thing about her older brothers when they had been courting. At the time, Mom had shared her own concerns about the long hours.
“How can it be wise for young folk to stay out most of the night?”
A good many older parents felt the same way once their daughters, especially, turned sixteen and were considered courting age.

“Rose is out with her fella,” Hen explained.

“Her boyfriend?” Beth’s face beamed in the light of the gas lamp. “Who is he?”

“That’s up to Rosie to say.” Considering Amish tradition, there was no way Hen would commit Rose to more.

“Will you say a bedtime prayer?” Beth asked, bringing her hands out from beneath the covers and folding them under her chin.

Hen agreed, wondering how much longer Mattie Sue would be content alone downstairs. To comfort Beth, she began to say the nighttime prayer she’d learned verbatim as a little girl. “Holy Father, we ask that we may spend this coming night—which you have ordained for our rest—and all the remainder of our lives under your divine protection and shield. O holy Father, defend us and cover us with the wings of your compassion . . . Beth especially. Amen.”

Beth smiled up sweetly at her. “I’ve never heard that prayer before,” she said, eyes glistening. “Is it written down somewhere?”

“Jah, in the German prayer book.”

“In English, too?” Beth asked.

“I think so.” Hen wondered why she asked.

“First thing tomorrow, I’m going to write my healing prayer for your mommy.” Beth’s lower lip trembled. “When I look at her, it hurts me.”

“It’s very hard to see her suffer.” Hen got up and went to the door, pausing there in case Beth might say more. But Rose’s English friend simply closed her eyes, her hands still folded near her face, and for a moment, Hen had the feeling Beth was silently praying.

Something maternal stirred within her, seeing the innocent young woman with the mind of a child behave in such a trusting manner. A fleeting thought crossed her mind—someday she would love to have another baby. But with Brandon threatening divorce, the chance of another child seemed terribly remote . . . if not impossible.

Hen sighed as she made her way to the stairs.
If only Brandon might come to know the Lord. Then we might see eye to eye. . . .

All the lanterns were still blazing when Rose and Silas arrived back at the barn. Yet the lights were nearly dim in comparison to the dazzling moon, and as Rose entered the upper level, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the contrast.

To her surprise, she noticed Rebekah standing alone near the stacked bales of hay, holding one of the white barn kittens close to her face. Rose hurried to see her and asked without thinking, “Do you need a ride back to Masts’?”

Rebekah’s eyes widened as she continued to pet the tiny cat. “Denki, that’d be right nice. But is it okay with Silas?”

Rose suddenly felt awkward about acknowledging Silas as her beau, yet few other conclusions could be drawn.

She looked back toward the open barn door. Silas stood there, watching her curiously. “Just a minute, I’ll see if he minds.” Rose went to him and asked quietly if they could give Rebekah a ride. “It’s too far and cold on foot, ain’t?”

He removed his black felt hat and did what he often did when he was ill at ease, pushing one hand through his thick blond hair. “No need for her to walk in the dark . . . no.”

“So it’s all right, then?”

“If ya want.”

She turned.

“Wait . . . Rose.” He paused, looking serious. “Next time ask me first, jah?”

She blushed with embarrassment. Never before had Silas spoken like that to her, although she realized now it was certainly warranted. She nodded, wishing she
had
waited to ask Rebekah till she’d seen how Silas felt about it. After all, he’d talked of wanting to ride together for a while—just the two of them—before taking Rose home tonight.

Rebekah smiled prettily when Rose returned. She wasted no time falling into step with Rose, and the two of them followed Silas out of the barn.
I best be minding my manners,
thought Rose as Silas pushed his hat back on his head.
I don’t want to displease my betrothed.

She watched Silas walk toward his horse and the open buggy. But his hat brim cast a shadow over his face, making it impossible to see if he actually was in agreement with her unusual request.

Chapter 9

R
ose awakened the next day to find Beth sitting up in
bed, leaning against her pillow. She had been surprised and delighted to learn from Dat’s note last night that dear Beth would be staying with them for the week. Curious, she watched her friend whispering the words she’d evidently written in the blue spiral notebook on her lap. It sounded like a prayer. The more Rose observed her, the more she realized the phrases were well written . . . and that Mamm, surprisingly, was at the heart of what Beth had composed.

Unable to remain silent, Rose stirred to let Beth know she was awake, lest she be guilty of eavesdropping. “Did ya sleep all right, Beth?” she asked quietly, so as not to startle her.

Beth smiled sleepily. “I must’ve. . . . I feel wide-awake this morning.”

Rose sat up and pushed her own pillow against the headboard, then leaned back. “Was that a prayer you were reading?”

Beth nodded. “It’s a healing prayer.” She paused, fingering the notebook. “From my heart to God’s.”

Rose didn’t know what to say. For as often as she’d prayed in her life, she’d never written down a single one.

Beth closed her notebook. “Remember when we talked at my house about God?”

Rose hadn’t forgotten.

“You said He knows everything, even the day we are born . . . and the day we’ll die, too.” Beth looked at the ceiling for a moment. “Well, the very next day I wrote a letter to God about that.” She leaned forward and tilted her head to look outside at the sky from where she sat. “I’ve been talking that way to Him for a long time, mostly in my notebook pages.”

Rose listened, not knowing what to think or say.
Beth’s so naïve,
she realized anew.

Beth’s eyes were filled with an appealing light. And Rose did not want to discourage her, especially if God
had
put it in her heart to pray for Mamm. “The Lord knows all of our thoughts and the intent of our heart,” Rose told Beth.

“Will you read my prayer?” Beth handed the notebook to Rose.

She accepted it but held Beth’s gaze, not wanting to intrude unless Beth was absolutely certain. “Are ya sure?”

With eyes shining, Beth nodded. And Rose began to read aloud.

Dear God,

Daddy says you never sleep, so I wonder if you’re looking over my shoulder while I write this prayer. There’s someone in this house who’s suffering. She needs your help. Every time I look at Rosie’s mommy, I feel like crying. I wonder: Do you cry for Mrs. Kauffman, too?

In my mommy’s Bible, I read once that you healed people when you lived on earth. That’s why I’m writing this prayer, because you see everything. When you read this, will you help Rosie’s poor mother? If it’s in your will, I know I’m supposed to say.

I hope you read this prayer very soon!

Love,

Beth Browning

Brushing back her tears, Rose struggled to see the last few lines. “Oh, Beth . . . this is the sweetest thing.”

Beth touched her hand. “I didn’t want to make you cry. Are you all right, Rosie?”

Rose blinked and smiled, trying to regain her composure.
Why can’t all of us be more like Beth?