The Mercy (4 page)

R
ose was glad Dat took her to work on Wednesday morning, since the roads were so treacherous. He steered the horse and buggy carefully into Gilbert Browning’s snow-packed driveway, where they spotted a U-Haul parked along the side of the house.

“Looks like Mr. Browning’s mother’s things have arrived.” Rose leaned forward in the carriage and saw Beth’s aunt Judith Templeton—sister of Beth’s deceased mother—coming out of the front door, carrying empty boxes. Rose recognized her from a wallet picture Beth had shown her some time ago. The sweet-faced, middle-aged woman looked as kind as Beth had always described her to be.

“Must be why the bishop asked if I could help him build a bedroom off the main level,” said Dat.

“For Mr. Browning’s mother?” This was the first Rose had heard it.

“Jah, just last week we talked about it.”

“Well, I wonder if she’ll be comfortable in the sitting room, at least for now,” Rose said, thinking aloud. “Surely he won’t expect her to manage goin’ up and down the stairs to the bedrooms.”

“Maybe you can help with that.” Dat turned and smiled. “No matter what your hands find to do, Rosie, you always make quick work of it.”

Her cheeks warmed slightly and she thanked him for bringing her. “I can walk home, if that would help.”

“No . . . no, it’s much too far in the cold and snow.”

“I don’t mind, Dat.”

“If it was plowin’ season, I might think twice. But I’ll come for ya at eleven.”

She nodded, grateful. “Tell
Mammi
Sylvia I’ll cook supper tonight, since she’s—”

“Ach, Rosie, I’ll leave that to you.” Like most men hereabouts, he wasn’t one to poke his nose into women’s work.

“All right, then. See ya later.” She watched him back out to the narrow country road.

The sun moved out from behind the gray cloud cover, shards of light piercing through the gloom. Gut,
the ride home won’t be so cold for him,
she thought. Even so, the trip would feel long—the road was heavily snow-packed, and deep runnels made by the carriage wheels had frozen and melted and refrozen, making the way extra jarring.

Hurrying inside, Rose was anxious to warm up. And immediately upon stepping inside the Browning home, she felt the lovely, even heat of the front room and kitchen, altogether unlike her father’s house.

Beth spotted her and gave her a quick hug. “Hi, Rosie!”

“Nice to see you again.” Rose glanced out the window. “Looks like you’ve got company—your aunt, jah?”

“Oh yes, Aunt Judith. And Grandma’s coming in two days . . . on the train.”

Soon, Judith stepped indoors, as well, wearing a hooded coat and scarf. Beth introduced Rose to her aunt. “Remember how I talked about her?” Beth asked.

“I certainly do.” Judith removed a glove to shake Rose’s hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“Beth speaks so highly of you,” Rose said.

“Isn’t she sweet?” Judith hugged Beth and looked fondly at her.

Beth blushed. “Oh, Auntie . . .”

Judith gave her another quick squeeze, then said she needed to get back outside to help Beth’s father unload a few more boxes. “I’ll be inside soon for some hot cocoa.” Judith smiled warmly at Rose. “It’s really wonderful meeting you, Rose.”

“And you, too.” Rose was delighted. “What a nice lady,” she told Beth.

“She’s sweet as honey pie, Mommy used to say.”

“Well, I can see why.”

Beth reached for Rose’s hand and led her into the narrow sitting room on the opposite wall of the front room, where the staircase ascended to the right. Most of the furniture in the room had been removed, except for a daybed replete with pretty pillows and matching coverlet, and an upholstered rocking chair and night table. “Grandma’s going to sleep on the daybed here,” said Beth, brightening even more. “And did you know what?”

“Let’s see . . . your grandmother will soon be getting a bedroom of her own?”

Beth moved her head up and down. “You guessed it.”

“I s’pose ya know who’s goin’ to add on to the house, too, ain’t so?”

Beth’s face was like a gleam of sunshine on the snow as she nodded. “You know what I think?”

“What?” Rose played along.

“We’ll seem like Amish.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’ll look like a barn-raising, won’t it?”

“Oh, you mean when the men come to add on the room?”

Beth nodded. “Only it won’t be a barn—just a big bedroom.” Beth laughed. “Like a tiny Dawdi Haus.”

Mr. Browning came in the front door and wandered into the sitting room. He talked about the excitement surrounding the new addition, the fact that, weather permitting, the foundation would be poured tomorrow, and all the preparations for Beth’s grandmother’s moving here this Friday. The to-do list he gave Rose today had plenty to tackle to ready the house for her arrival.

Rose wondered how long Aunt Judith would stay but didn’t feel it was her place to ask. “I’m sure you and your father will take
gut
care of your grandmother,” she said to Beth.

“You’ll like her, Rosie . . . I just know it.”

They walked through the living room and into the kitchen. “How would ya like to go to the quilting bee with me tomorrow morning?” Rose asked. “You could help entertain some of the children there while we work on more quilts and tied comforters for the shelter.”

“Oh yes!”

“We’ll ask your father if it’s all right, then.”

Beth beamed with happiness. “I like playing with the little ones. Will Mattie Sue be there, too?”

“I’ll be sure to bring her.” Rose smiled
.

In the kitchen Beth picked up a pile of mail while Rose went to the broom closet in the back hallway, where she found the bucket and mop. “Oh goodness. Just look at this!” Beth said, tearing open an envelope. Then, catching herself, she said, “Oops, this letter’s not for me.”

Wondering what was up, Rose carried the bucket to the sink, glancing over her shoulder at Beth. “What’re ya sayin’?”

“I opened Daddy’s letter by mistake.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Rose reassured her, knowing Beth sometimes acted impulsively.

As if she’d done something wrong, Beth inched toward her, carrying the partially opened letter in her hand.

“You don’t understand,” Beth whispered, leaning against Rose’s arm while hot water gushed into the bucket. “It’s from my mother’s nurse, Jane Keene.”

Rose couldn’t help but wonder why Beth was whispering.

“Miss Jane is the kindest lady I know.” She stopped. “Except for you, Rosie.”

Rose didn’t inquire about Jane, but there was clearly more on Beth’s mind. “Maybe it’s a belated New Year’s card. Could that be?”

Beth shook her head, her short dark hair swinging back and forth against her cheeks. “Jane wasn’t just nice to my mother and me. . . .” She paused.

“What do ya mean?”

“Oh . . . uh, I don’t know.”

Turning, Rose looked into Beth’s innocent face. “I think you do.”

“Miss Jane loved our family . . .
all
of us.”

“And I can see why.” She smiled at Beth. “Something to be happy about, ain’t?”

A light went on in Beth’s eyes. “I didn’t think we’d hear from her ever again.”

“Why’s that?” Rose turned off the water and lifted the pail out of the sink.

Beth shrugged, bashful now. “I better go and give this to Daddy.” Beth headed for the front room, where she pulled on her jacket and wrapped her red scarf around her neck before she cautiously made her way outside, the letter from Jane Keene in her hand.

What on earth?
Rose wondered, unable to get Beth’s guarded expression out of her mind.

W
hen Rose returned home from the Brownings’, Dat let her out of the buggy before he went to unhitch the horse. Rose saw Mattie Sue emerge from the Dawdi Haus with her father, leading him down the snowy walkway, chattering all the while. She talked about the horses—Alfalfa, George, and Upsy-Daisy—but it was the colts that seemed most exciting to Mattie Sue as she guided Brandon out toward the stable.

Rose was touched by the way her young niece called her father’s attention to the unevenness of the path. It was ever so dear the way Mattie Sue held his hand and glanced up at him every few seconds.

How she loves him!

What would it do to her to live apart from him, if and when Brandon’s sight returned and he was to go back home? Or what if Brandon had his way and eventually got custody? How would Mattie Sue fare without seeing her mother every day?

It was hard for Rose to imagine such a thing, having grown up with both parents, surrounded by her many brothers and Hen. They’d loved and laughed and worked together from dawn to dusk. Oh, the
gut
times they’d had! No, she couldn’t let herself think such thoughts about Hen’s family. She just couldn’t.

Turning to head to the house, she looked over her shoulder, again moved by Mattie Sue’s tender care of her daddy. But it was the fact that Rose hadn’t ever seen Brandon go with Mattie Sue—or anyone—to the barn that made her wonder. Was he ready to warm up to his surroundings, and maybe even Rose’s family, at long last? She hoped so but wouldn’t stand there speculating further with the cold seeping into her. Opening the door, she stepped inside, glad Mammi Sylvia was stoking the black cookstove with plenty of logs. She walked straight to it, removing her mittens and rubbing her hands together, and observed Mamm reading the old German
Biewel
in her wooden wheelchair.

Rose assumed Hen had gone to work at her part-time job at the fabric shop up yonder, leaving Mattie Sue in charge of occupying Brandon for these hours. She didn’t have to voice her thoughts, because her grandmother confirmed her hunch and told Rose to keep an eye out for Mattie.

“I just saw her and her father walkin’ together,” Rose said, eyeing Mamm, who looked deep in concentration as she read the Scriptures. “How long is Hen workin’ today?”

“Till before supper.” Mammi reached for a box of salt in the freestanding cupboard near the stove. “Seems her husband and Mattie Sue will be joinin’ us for the noon meal.”

Rose wondered if she felt uncomfortable at the thought of Brandon’s feet beneath their family table, Englischer that he was.

Rose took off her boots and pushed her toes into some old slippers she kept nearby during the coldest months. “I’ll help you finish cookin’,” she offered.

First, though, she went over and touched her mother’s shoulder, still aware that Mamm hadn’t spoken or even raised her head. She smiled down at her. “You’re so quiet,” she whispered.

Mamm blinked back tears as she looked up at her.

“Mamm, are you all right?”

Her mother smiled weakly. “Not to worry. I’m just pondering this passage.” She pointed to Galatians chapter six, verse two:
Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ
. “Still awful worried for Barbara. She’s nearly heartbroken over . . . well, what’s happened to our bishop, comin’ so quick on the heels of everything else.”

It was like Mamm to think of others before herself. Rose guessed poor Barbara must carry the burden of her husband’s silencing. How could she not?

“I want to have them over for supper . . . show our support,” Mamm said, glancing up at her own mother, Rose’s Mammi Sylvia. “Just don’t know what we’ll talk ’bout . . . ya know.”

“There’s always the weather,” Rose said, going to wash her hands before testing the vegetables in the stew pot. She wouldn’t for the life of her mention the power Nick held in his hands regarding his foster father—if he were to join church and become an upstanding Amishman. After being gone this long, there was little chance of that.

Mamm returned to her reading, caressing the Bible’s cover like a mother stroking a child.

When it was time for dinner, Mattie Sue cheerfully guided her father in the back door and into the kitchen. She helped him stuff his gloves into his coat pockets, then hung up his jacket and scarf before leading him to the bench, where she plunked down right next to him, looking mighty pleased.

Her mother’s child.
Rose carried the pan of corn bread to the table. Then she went back to the drawer for the black ladle and placed it deep in the tureen of delicious stew. Looking at Mattie Sue sitting there with her father, Rose wondered whether, if the tables were turned and if Hen were the one suffering from the aftereffects of a serious accident, Brandon would care for
her,
despite their vast differences?

Rose hated to judge, even in her thoughts, but she had a hard time picturing that.

“My partner, Bruce Kramer, is stopping by to drive me to Quarryville later,” Brandon stated. “I’ll take Mattie Sue along.”

Dat and Mamm glanced at each other. “Does Hen know?” asked Dat.

“I told her this morning, before she left,” Brandon replied, his unseeing eyes blinking rapidly.

“Aw, we can’t leave Wiggles alone,” Mattie Sue said, her face wrinkled in concern. “He’ll cry, Daddy.”

“Then he’ll have to cry,” Brandon said quietly, turning to Mattie Sue. “Dogs need to learn to be alone sometimes.”

“We’ll watch your puppy for ya,” Mamm volunteered from across the table. “Be glad to.”

Dat straightened in his chair. “Mattie Sue can stay here, too, while you’re gone,” he said.

Brandon surprised Rose by nodding in compliance. “I thought it was time she saw my office. But we can do that another day.”

Rose sighed, grateful there wasn’t going to be an argument between Brandon and Dat. She took her seat next to Mamm and her grandparents, opposite her niece and brother-in-law, and bowed her head when Dat gave the silent table blessing.
O Lord God and heavenly Father, bless us and these bountiful gifts, which we do gratefully accept from your loving and gracious hand. . . .

At the end of the prayer, Dat cleared his throat, and Rose raised her head, glad to see Brandon had kept his hands in his lap during the prayer. Hen had said recently that he typically fumbled about for his silverware during the table blessing, even though Mattie Sue always reminded him to pray before eating.

Mattie Sue must’ve noticed her father’s more reverent attitude, because she looked with wide eyes across at Rose, then up at her father. “We’re having stew, Daddy,” she announced.

“Nice and thick,” Rose added, letting him know he could manage this meal pretty easily.

“Smells great.” Brandon offered a rare smile. “So does the corn bread.” He touched his slice lightly with his left hand after Mattie Sue told him where it was on his plate. His right arm would still be in a cast for a few more weeks, according to yesterday’s doctor visit. Hen had given the family an update last evening.

“Daddy’s getting along real
gut,
” Mattie Sue told them, grinning at him. “Ain’t so?”

Brandon colored slightly at the comment, then thanked Mammi Sylvia, who filled his bowl with the vegetable beef stew. It certainly was heartier than usual; Mammi must have had Brandon in mind when she made it.

Mamm leaned forward slightly in her wheelchair. “Son, it’s so nice to have you join us for dinner,” she said softly, pausing before she added, “You’re welcome anytime.”

“Denki, Mammi Emma,” said Mattie Sue.

“My daughter and I appreciate it, Emma,” Brandon said, a small smile on his lips as he seemed to recognize Mattie Sue’s efforts on his behalf.

A lull followed when the only sounds were the clinking of spoons against bowls and the soft thud of water tumblers on the table. Then Brandon surprised Rose by speaking again. “Emma,” he said, “I understand you’re scheduled to have back surgery next week.”

“That’s right.”

“I do hope it goes well.”

“Denki, so kind of you, Brandon.”

He paused, his spoon buried in the stew. “How have you managed the pain . . . all these years?” His words came cautiously.

“Well, I have to say it hasn’t been easy.” Mamm breathed out in a little hiss, as if she was trying to keep herself in check, suffering right at that moment. “Think of taking a crumb from a piece of bread and nibbling it, one small piece each bite,” she replied. “Sometimes you just have to live an hour or so at a time, trusting the Lord will help you through. I don’t know any other way, really.”

“My wife can’t tolerate pain medication,” Dat added, “which makes things even more difficult.”

Mattie Sue piped up. “But Beth’s prayers—and her dream—helped Mammi Emma want to go to the doctor again. Ain’t so, Mammi?”

“Now, Mattie Sue.” Brandon touched her arm.

“No . . . no, it’s all right,” said Mamm quickly. “She’s quite right.” She explained how Beth Browning’s dream of her healing had spurred her to seek out professional help at long last. “The dear Lord used that girl’s dream—and prayerful spirit—to open my eyes.”

Rose held her breath at Mamm’s words. Truth was, they were all praying for God to open Brandon’s eyes, as well. And not only his physical ones.

“You’ve been so gracious in your suffering,” Brandon said. “Hen says you’ve never been anything else.”

“The Lord helps Emma each and every day,” Dat stated. He patted Mamm’s hand.

“Surely does,” Mammi Sylvia said, shaking her head.

“Don’t see how she could’ve managed this long otherwise,”
Dawdi
Jeremiah added, holding his bowl out for seconds. Rose quickly reached for the ladle.

“I don’t, either.” Brandon shook his head, as if in awe.

Rose hadn’t expected this sort of response from Brandon at all. And for the rest of the meal, he seemed subdued. Several times, Mamm talked to him exclusively, attempting to draw him out.

Rose smiled to herself, grateful for Brandon’s kindly responses to Mamm’s sweetness.

Has Brandon’s heart begun to soften?