The Mercy (26 page)

At the supper table, Mamm caught Rose’s attention when she commented on how curious it was that Aaron had been permitted to read the hymn at the cemetery.

“It was fitting for Dawdi Jeremiah’s burial hymn to be recited by Bishop Aaron, given that he fasted and prayed for the bishop’s restraint to be lifted—that divine mercy would win out,” Dat responded. “The Lord works in baffling ways at times.”

Rose leaned forward in her chair, eager to hear more.

“According to Jeb Ulrich, turns out everything Nick revealed to Aaron and Bishop Simon adds up.” And Dat began to explain the details of the day Christian had lost his life.

When he finished, the kitchen was hushed.

“So it
was
an accident!” Rose exclaimed.

“Jah, a dreadful thing, but an accident nonetheless.”

Mammi Sylvia bowed her head for a time. Then, looking up, she said softly, “Oh, I do pray the silencing will be lifted.”

“It certainly would seem so,” Dat replied.

And for just that instant, Rose’s grandmother looked more like a bride than a widow.

But the good news of their beloved bishop’s likely return to ministry—and Jeb’s surprising role in that—wasn’t the only thing that brought some lightness to the evening’s intimate family gathering. Dat relayed the astonishing news that Nick, as a young boy, had helped to save Mamm’s life.

“Seems I’ve misjudged him,” Dat admitted, his expression tinged with regret.

Mamm, Rose, and Mammi Sylvia were amazed—and grateful. But the longer Dat talked, the more proud Rose felt, if not a little humbled, too. This proof of her friend’s innocence—something she had always hoped for—nearly took her breath away. Now the entire community would soon know that Nick had not directly caused Christian’s death, but it was Christian who’d set in motion the very events that led to his own passing. Truly, God had nudged Jeb to Dawdi’s funeral today.

Rose considered all of this, including what Jeb had said about Nick’s helping Mamm. Why, in time Nick might even be regarded as brave, once word got out that he’d played a large part in saving Mamm when he was a youngster.

What a turnabout! Divine providence had brought something good out of the ashes, making Nick’s return count for something at last. More than ever, Rose was glad to have extended her friendship to the bishop’s foster son down through the years.

R
ose weeded all day Saturday—first the family vegetable garden, then the various flower beds around the main house and over on Mammi Sylvia’s side. Cloud cover brought some relief from the intense heat of the past several days, though Rose still checked to be sure Dawdi’s zinnias were moist enough in the wooden wheelbarrow.

After she bathed and dressed that evening for her date with Isaac, she sat for a few minutes near the window in her room, looking out toward the road. She was surprised to see Nick heading off in a spanking-new black courting buggy, with Pepper prancing . . . mane flying. Finally he’d gotten what he needed for proper courting—he must have accepted what Bishop Aaron offered to give him years ago.

“It’s ’bout time, dear friend,” she whispered, wondering if he was heading off to meet Cousin Sarah or another pretty girl in the district. As convinced as Dat was now that Nick would join church in the fall, Rose didn’t figure Nick would take any chances with a girl outside the local district. He’d want to continue to prove himself.

Almost three weeks since his return,
she thought, realizing that they had not once gone riding. More than a slight twinge touched her heart.

Isaac slipped his arm around Rose as soon as they were settled in his fine carriage, holding the reins in his other hand. He was full of beach talk and hinted that he’d like to take her to the ocean sometime. Could it be he was thinking of going after they were married—for their honeymoon, perhaps? Surely he was!

She spoke of her grandfather’s passing, how goodhearted a man he was, and how she’d been there with him before he died. She even shared about Tillie, the kitten he’d named the very hour of his death.

“Not many Amish farmers give a care about barn cats, jah?” He smiled down at her.

“That’s for sure. Oh, Isaac, I wish you could’ve met my grandfather!”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’d like to meet all of your family . . . very soon.”

It felt peculiar that he hadn’t met them yet, although since he lived outside Rose’s district, he naturally wouldn’t know her parents or siblings—only Ruthann’s family, because they were kin. The other fellows Rose had dated had grown up in her church, so they were well known not just to her relatives but to all the People.

“Where do ya see yourself living and working someday?” she asked, trying not to be too obvious about her real question:
Where will we live after marriage?

“I’ve been considering that for the past few months. It’d be awful nice to stay in touch with my family in Bart . . . and keep workin’ for Ed Morton. I’ve worked for him since I was out of school—after eighth grade, ya know.”

“He must know you’re a hard worker, then,” she said.

“Ed and I go way back.”

“You know him well?”

“Oh jah.” Isaac grew quiet and Rose hoped she hadn’t asked something out of turn.

After a good long time had passed and he said no more about it, Rose changed the subject. “My mother’s doin’ ever so well now. She has no pain at all.”

“Must be a relief for your father.”

She got a little choked up. “It was an awful big risk, the surgery, but she and Dat are glad it’s behind them.”

He nodded. “I’m happy for your mother. For all your family. No one should have to suffer such pain.”

“And for so many years.” Rose thought again of her father’s unexpected revelation—that Nick had been the one to alert Jeb the morning of Mamm’s accident. She didn’t understand why Nick had never told her, as close as they’d been.

As they rode into the July night, Rose began to relax again, dismissing Isaac’s wish to live and work near Bart. At some level, hadn’t she known that would be the case? Still, she hadn’t expected him to keep working for Ed. She chided herself. Wasn’t it enough to be so well courted and cherished?

Isaac’s one of a kind,
Rose thought.

Even so, she missed the camaraderie she and Nick had always enjoyed. Was it Nick’s return that had stirred all of this up again? Isaac
was
very different from Nick Franco, she decided as Isaac hummed beside her in the moonlight.
But I’m Isaac’s girl now. . . .

In the days following Dawdi Jeremiah’s passing, Rose helped Mammi Sylvia distribute his personal effects to his younger brothers and two of his oldest sons. She attended canning bees, entertained both Mattie Sue and Beth—with Mamm—at the farm, and enjoyed watching Mattie Sue become comfortable riding their most reliable pony under Dat’s care. She also sewed several yellow sleeping gowns for Hen’s coming baby and took them along when Hen and Brandon hosted their barbeque.

To occupy her grandmother, Rose took her and Mamm to visit some shut-in relatives, as well as Annie Mast’s twin babies—Mary and Anna, who were now nearly eight months old and crawling and babbling. Now and then, Rose caught sight of Nick from afar, at the bishop’s or every other Sunday evening as he took his open buggy up Salem Road. On Preaching Sundays, she saw him at church, but he did not seek her out as always before. According to Cousins Sarah and Mary, who were happy to fill her in, Nick faithfully attended Singings in the local district.

August arrived with temperatures as warm as July’s, and it was often too hot to sleep. On such evenings, Rose took her flashlight out to the front porch and read her library books there, as many as two or three novels per week. And she took pleasure in answering Isaac’s weekly letters as they continued to see each other like clockwork every Saturday night.

When his letter arrived the first Wednesday in August, Rose read it immediately while walking back up the driveway to the house. Goodness, he wanted to take her somewhere “extra nice” for a late supper out.
What do you think about that?

“Wonderful-
gut
!” she said to the sky, suspecting what he had up his thoughtful sleeve. It would be all she could do to get through the next few days till Isaac came for her in his courting carriage. Or perhaps, depending on where he had in mind to go for their special meal, he would come in a hired van?

“Are ya talkin’ to yourself, Rosie?”

She looked up and saw Nick carrying a sack of feed on his shoulder.

“Well, now, I guess I am.” She smiled. “Where are ya goin’ with all that feed?”

“Taking it to your father.” He looked so different, with his bangs growing out in time for his baptism next month. “Got a second?” he asked her.

“Sure, what’s on your mind?”

He glanced toward the field where the trees marked the path. Then his gaze returned to her. “I asked ya before and you didn’t seem much interested.”

“What’s that?”

“The grapevine nearly has you married, ya know.”

“I suspect the grapevine’s right,” she admitted, knowing he would see the truth on her face anyway.

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I think we should go ridin’ one last time, Rosie.”

The way he said it struck her. Had he found someone? Was he on the verge of asking Sarah or Mary to go for steady, maybe?

“Just once more?” she asked.

He looked momentarily sad but brightened just as quickly. “I thought it’d be fun. One last run for old time’s sake. Besides, the nights are nice.”

“Where were ya thinkin’ of?”

He looked toward the east. “Doesn’t matter. Just want to ride with you, my old friend.”

“So now I’m
old
?”

They laughed and it felt good. It had been too long. Rose knew what her answer would be.

“Sure, I’ll go . . . as long as we each take a horse.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. Meet me up the road . . . you know where.”

She had to smile. “After dusk or before?”

“Why not while the sun’s still up? We have nothing to hide,” he said.

Rose felt strangely relieved. This ride was merely for friendship’s sake.

He gave her a cordial smile and they parted ways. As she headed toward the house, Isaac’s letter still in hand, she knew it was perfect timing, since she was soon to be engaged. Who knew but Nick might also settle down real soon?

Our last farewell,
she decided.
All for the best . . .

T
he sun was a red ball, tumbling fast as Rose met Nick just up from the bishop’s house to take George and Pepper out for a canter. They rode east a ways, then turned north on Ridge Road, past the Kings’ place and up over the hill to Shady Road. The vistas at the rise were spectacular as they halted the horses to watch the sunset, the sky filled with crimson and gold streaks.

“Ever see one so perty?” Rose said.

“Not this summer.”

“Here’s the best spot to see it.”

“I think you’re right,” Nick agreed. Pepper whinnied. “Silly old boy,” he said, giving him a reassuring pat.

Rose laughed a little. There they were, just starting out on their jaunt, and already it seemed as if all the months Nick was away had dissolved into the twilight. She found herself studying him—she’d never expected to see him again, and now here he was, an upstanding Amishman with no hint of rebellion. His time with Mrs. Schaeffer had altered his life. His dark brown eyes still communicated volumes, but now they were almost gentle.

“What’re you thinking about, Rosie?”

She smiled.
He knows me too well.
“Oh, just how very Amish you look now that you’re back.”

“I
am
Amish. It took a while, but I finally realized where I belong.”

She reflected on that as the last of the sun fell out of sight, into the eastern hills. They signaled the horses to move forward.

“Something bothering ya?” he asked as they went.

“No . . . you?”

He chuckled. “Not really, no.”

“Well, I’m glad you asked me to ride.” Rose paused to quell her emotions. She breathed deeply, then forged ahead. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Nick.”

He shrugged. “I’m an open book now.”

She decided not to beat around the bush. “My father says you saved Mamm’s life when you alerted Jeb Ulrich so long ago.”

Until that moment, Nick had been watching her attentively, but he turned away suddenly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“But you did save her, right?”

Nick blew out a breath. “I only did what I could.”

“Well, the way I heard it, if it hadn’t been for you, who knows what might’ve happened? I’m truly grateful, Nick. Thank you.”

In the fading light, he ran one hand along a length of rein as the other held it fast. He sighed. “Even though I might’ve helped save your Mamm . . .” His voice trailed off and he stared at the sky.

“Nick . . . what?”

He turned toward her again and shook his head. “Rosie . . . don’t you see? The accident was my fault.”

“What’re ya sayin’?”

He was quiet for a time. And when he spoke, his voice sounded hollow and flat. “It’s just that . . . there’s something you don’t know.”

She held her breath.

“I’m the one to blame for the buggy flipping over.”

“Wha-at?” She felt the blood drain from her head.

“I took Pepper out riding when I knew better. I was too small to ride him, the bishop used to say. Didn’t know enough about horses back then.”

She listened intently.

“I slid down off Pepper and let him wander about while I played along the road, on the rocks. Then something spooked him and off he went . . . galloping like he was mad, down Bridle Path Lane.” Nick’s breath caught, as though reliving the terrible moment. “I saw what happened, Rosie. I saw young Pepper crowd your Mamm’s horse and carriage. The hill was awful steep on the left—you know the ravine, the way it falls off, nearly straight down on the other side. There was no room for Pepper to pass without pushing the carriage over.”

“Ach no . . .”

“When I ran to your Mamma and saw her, bloodied and wounded, I wished it were me lying there on the road.” His voice quivered. “Aw, Rosie . . . your dear Mamm.

“For years, I felt somehow cursed because of what I’d done. Then Christian died . . . and I knew I couldn’t stay round here any longer. I figured I was no good for anyone.”

Her heart went out to him.

“I’m awful sorry, Rosie.” He shook his head. “I never meant to hurt your mother . . . or anyone. Not ever.”

“Nick, listen to me. Is
that
what’s bothered you all these years? It wasn’t just Christian’s harsh demands, or your parents’ expectations . . . you thought you were at fault for Mamm’s accident?”

“But I
was.
”

“No,” she said. “You didn’t know what Pepper was going to do. It could have happened to anyone.”

“But it wouldn’t have happened if I’d obeyed and stayed at home, like the bishop said those first few weeks after I came here.”

“You were just a little boy. A troubled one who needed a home and parents to care for you and show you what love is.” She reached out a hand, but the horses kept them apart. “You were not to blame. You didn’t kill Christian, nor were you at fault for Mamm’s accident—neither one. And you were never cursed.
Never.
”

“How can you be so kind to me even now, Rosie?” Nick sounded incredulous.

“You’re my best friend,” she said. “And you always have been, from the moment you showed up.”

Nick sighed heavily.

“Have you told your father any of this?” she asked.

“The bishop knows everything.” He removed his straw hat and held it against his chest. “And now, so do you.”

Filled with empathy, she followed his horse when he urged it forward. To think she’d faulted herself for the circumstances leading up to her mother’s accident . . . just as Nick had.

They rode without talking for a while longer, enjoying the sweet night air on the mild yet humid night. But the remainder of the outing was colored by this being their final ride together. As they slowed to a trot, Rose was aware that Nick was taking the long way home.

At the end of her lane, they stopped riding and told each other good night. Rose even allowed Nick to reach for her hand. They lingered there like long-lost friends.

“I forgive you, Nick,” she said. “Now, please, won’t ya forgive yourself?”

He looked at her in the moonlight, their eyes locking. “I think I needed to hear that.” He paused. “From everyone, really, but especially from you.”

The People expected too much of the little English boy from Philly.
Yet Nick had come back to the very folk who had failed to believe in him.

“Take care of yourself, Rosie,” he said. “Be happy, all right?”

“You too, Nick. God be with ya.” She watched him go, wondering why she still felt nearly breathless in his presence.

Sleep eluded Rose. In spite of herself, she kept visualizing the circumstances Nick revealed had led up to Mamm’s tragic accident. She shook herself and got out of bed to go and stand at the window. The night was dead, without a smidgen of air. She slipped on her cotton duster and headed downstairs, barefoot, to the back porch and sat there silently.

By the time the moon sat high atop the silo, Rose was weary of the day. Yet she was not tired enough to sleep. So she prayed, “Dear Lord, please help Nick forgive himself, just as you have already forgiven him.”

For Isaac’s twenty-first birthday, Rose made his favorite dessert, German chocolate sauerkraut cake. Their dinner date was tomorrow, but since she wanted to surprise him with it on his actual birthday, she hired a driver to take her to Bart, planning to deliver the cake in person.

Ed Morton’s spread of land was much more vast than Rose had ever imagined. She could understand now why he hired so many workers. But out of all of them, Isaac was the only employee who looked Amish, even minus his straw hat.

As her driver parked the van, Isaac walked sprightly through the backyard, toward a nearby tractor. He easily scaled the machine and plunked down into the seat, taking the wheel. Isaac seemed completely at ease with the tractor, despite its huge
inflatable
tires.

Her throat squeezed tight. Was this the type of work Isaac did for Ed Morton?
Does my beau drive a tractor for a living?!

The van driver came around to help Rose out, distracting her. He reached to get the cake carrier off the seat and handed it to her. “Here you are, miss.”

“Denki, I’ll be right back,” she said and headed for the house. The least she could do was to leave the birthday cake with a note. She would not stay to see how pleased Isaac might be. No, she was too upset to consider talking to him or trying to write much else.

Oh, Isaac, what are you thinking?

At least Rose had the presence of mind to thank Mrs. Morton when the woman offered her something to drink—a chair to wait in, perhaps. “If you like, I can see how long Isaac might be.”

Rose refused as graciously as possible. “That’s okay. I don’t want to bother Isaac just now. I can see he’s very busy.”

Rose excused herself and made her way toward the van. Surveying the grounds, she was surprised not to see a single buggy anywhere. An old beat-up car parked near the barn caught her attention with a bumper sticker that read
Ocean City, New Jersey.
She spied a worn straw hat on the dashboard—
Isaac’s
hat.

Immediately, she realized the truth.
That must be Isaac’s car!

This was crazy; her imagination was running away with her. Rose felt as if she’d gone to the other side of the world—definitely the English side, what with all the electric and telephone wires running into the house and the various vehicles parked around the property. And the worst of it was the tractor rumbling through the field with her beau behind the wheel.

Rose felt queasy—she needed to return to the familiar landscape and Amish life of Salem Road. She buckled herself into the van, anxious to get home as soon as possible.