The Thorn (25 page)

"Then you should feel better tomorrow." Hen went to the window and pulled down the shade. She didn't think now was a good time to bring up her suspicions about Nick.

"I might seem ungrateful, but I'm just put out with myself," Rose said. "Denki for helpin' me get up here." She looked like she might start crying again. "I'm awful glad you're here, just when I need a big sister."

"Oh, Rosie." Hen knelt beside the bed and patted her hand. "I'll do all I can to make you comfortable."

"Will ya look out for Mamm, too?"

"Whatever I can do, sure." She kissed her cheek. "Our mother's not your sole responsibility."

"It seems so ... some days." Rose closed her eyes. She took several breaths and folded her hands on her chest. "Were you upset earlier ... when Nick carried me into the house?"

Hen touched Rose's cheek. "It was a little unsettling."

"He was just helpin' out." Rose's lower lip quivered. "I don't know what would've happened if he hadn't found me on the road, to tell ya the truth."

"Nick seems fond of you."

Her sister frowned and blinked repeatedly. "We've always been gut friends. You know that."

"But boys who are just friends don't look at girls the way he looked at you."

Rose gave a wave of her hand. "'Tween you and me, I'm see in' someone else," she confided.

"Ah ... so you think of Nick as merely a friend?"

"Why, sure. He doesn't care for me the way my beau does. I doubt Nick even notices I'm a girl."

Hen managed to squelch her laughter. "Rosie ... goodness, what you don't understand." Hen rose to her feet. "But you rest, okay? Dad and I'll keep Mom company."

Rose was still stewing when Hen stepped out of the room and closed the door. Bewildered, Hen shook her head, trying to remember back when she was Rosie's age. She stopped to peer out the window near the landing, looking across the cornfields ready to be harvested for silage. Nick and Christian were heading toward their house, walking on either side of the road. Still at odds after all these years ...

Treading softly on the stairs, Hen headed down to check on Mom, as promised. Who, besides Rose, has Nick ever gotten along with? she wondered, finding her mother alone in the small spare room. "You all right?" she asked, poking her head in.

Mom motioned to her. "Your father's just talked to the bishop, and Aaron wants to leave it up to us to decide how long you should stay."

Hen listened, anxious to hear what Mom thought.

"Marriage is a sacred trust, dear one - not to be tampered with."

She agreed. "I don't take it lightly, believe me."

"Your father and I want you to work things out with your husband."

"I've done what I can," she said, suddenly feeling tired.

"Well, keep tryin' . . . till something gives."

She nodded, though she felt little hope.

"That's all God asks of us," Mom said, her eyes fluttering shut.

Truthfully, Hen didn't know how anything would change as long as Brandon was dead set against her "backward" family, or the Amish community in general.

Rose felt dull and lifeless, like she was trapped in a cocoon. Her knee pained her, but so did her heart, knowing her sister and Mattie Sue were going to be living back home. The realization only served to make her feel worse. Her lofty dreams of a happilyever-after marriage for her sister were dashed as she rested in the very bed where Hen had first told her of the "special love" she and Brandon Orringer had found in each other.

Why can't it last forever - till death? Rose stared at the ceiling. And why does Hen pine for her childhood home more than the one she's made with Brandon?

Tears trickled down Rose's face and into her hair. She turned and closed her eyes, letting her emotions go.

"Hen knows better," she mumbled into her pillow. "How could she do this?"

The little Dawdi Haus was too quiet now. Hen sat in bed, gazing out at the night sky, feeling isolated in the lonely room and too weary to bother getting up to pull down the shades. Mom wants them up at all times, she thought, understanding the quirk for the very first time.

When she was with Brandon, she'd never paid attention to the city sounds. Either that or the buzz had never registered. Rolling over in the empty bed, Hen thought back to her first night as his bride. She didn't recall hearing the traffic and other noises of the modern world. Was she so blinded by love, too willing to give up the tranquility of the country for a handsome husband?

She yawned deeply and slipped her hand beneath the cool pillowcase ... one Mom had undoubtedly embroidered. When she thought of her mother, Hen felt sad, as if she had neglected her while living with Brandon. Now that she was here, Hen intended to make up for that.

Her thoughts turned to poor Rose. She'd really banged up her knee ... and Hen hadn't meant to be so pointed about Nick. After all, no girl wanted a big sister meddling in her life. Suzy did just that to me. She thought back to the things her too-blunt sister-in-law, Enos's wife, had said about "evil Brandon."

But nothing Suzy or anyone else said back then had made a whit of difference. If anything it made Hen run to Brandon faster. She truly believed the difference between herself and Rose Ann was that her sister seemed innocent of Nick's attention. Actually, come to think of it, Hen had no idea what Nick's intentions were, considering his lifelong lack of interest in the church. Because of what Hen knew now, it was the thing that worried her most.

Frustrated and tired, she got up and went to the stark window to look out. Brandon must be sorely perplexed with her. Did he miss her? Had he fallen asleep on the sofa tonight while watching TV? Or had he stumbled into bed - their bed - tired as a dog, only to be reminded that Hen wasn't there to soothe away the stress of his day?

"O Lord, I need your help," she prayed quietly, tears falling onto her nightgown. "I chose the path of disobedience." She sighed. "But now I want to walk in the way that will please you most - whatever that may be. Amen."

She tiptoed over to the small room next to hers, where Mattie Sue lay sleeping peacefully, her arm around Foofie. The stuffed dog had been a birthday present from Diane Perlis and her daughter, Karen. She remembered how Mattie had protested that a year was a "long, long time" to wait for her next birthday. And Hen had agreed with her, saying a full year seemed like an endless amount of time when you were young. Now she knew all too well how the months skidded past, rolling along like a market wagon on a sharp decline. Good enough reason to return to the Amish and make things right.

"But how to do right by Brandon?" she whispered.

Tears blurred her eyes as Hen sat quietly on Mattie's bed. She leaned forward and touched her daughter's thick braids. "My darling girl, how will you ever cope without your daddy?" she whispered into the air. "How will I manage without my husband?"

Even though her night had been a short one, Hen awoke feeling better rested than she sometimes did at home with Brandon, always being on edge due to their escalating disagreements.

She stretched, relaxing in the comfortable bed as she recalled that Dawdi Jeremiah believed wholeheartedly that if a person would simply lie in bed for twenty minutes before rising, the day would go more smoothly.

So she rested awhile and prayed a blessing on the day. She also asked God to make His presence known to her husband. "In spite of how things are between us now. Amen."

Later, once she'd showered in the makeshift bathroom just off the small kitchen - like an indoor outhouse, of sorts - Hen dressed in her most conservative print skirt and a cream-colored longsleeved blouse with a tan sweater vest. The glint of her engagement ring caught her eye as she buttoned the sleeve of her blouse. Even if she were to set aside the showy diamond ring in favor of just her simple wedding band, Hen would never be mistaken for Old Order Amish while wearing such a ring, no matter how Plain the rest of her attire. Some things can't be helped....

She went upstairs to wake Mattie Sue but found an empty, unmade bed, with Foofie sitting atop the pillow. "Mattie? Where'd you go?"

Making her way downstairs again, she saw the back door was ajar. She headed first to the main house, and seeing her grandmother already stirring up the pancake batter, she asked if she'd seen Mattie Sue.

"I heard her squealing. She's out with Sol feeding the young goats," Mammi said.

Hen went to the summer porch and looked out. Nick and Christian were already working in the bishop's former potato field to the west, plowing and disking. "How's Rosie feeling today?"

"Oh, much better. She's up and hobblin' around."

"Bless her heart." Hen was glad to hear it as she continued scanning the area outside for Mattie. Then she noticed her father and Mattie Sue playing with two of the barn kittens over near the corncrib. Hen burst out laughing, her heart warmed by what she saw. "Looks like someone's getting spoiled," she said.

"Can't hurt none," Mammi agreed and poured some coffee, which she brought to Hen. "You'll be wantin' this soon, jah?"

"Thanks - I mean, Denki," she said, realizing she ought to start speaking her first language more. Especially around Mattie Sue.

"How long will ya stay?" her grandmother asked, eyes too serious.

"I'm supposed to get this out of my system, according to my husband."

Mammi's eyebrows rose. "This?"

"My Amish heritage." She doubted Mammi would understand.

"How can ya expect to ever do that?"

Hen nodded. "That's just it."

Mammi shook her head in disgust. "Brandon wanted an Amish girl back when - stole you right out from under our noses."

"Please don't dislike him, Mammi."

"Well, it ain't that, really."

Hen followed her into the kitchen. "What is it, then?"

"What he stands for."

Sin, the flesh, and the devil. Hen knew already ... she'd heard it preached repeatedly when they were dating.

"And now here you are, back again." Mammi tested the griddle with several drops of water from her fingers. They spit and sputtered on the heat, so she reached for her favorite wooden cup and dipped it into the batter.

"It's good of Dad to let us stay." She watched Mammi at the cookstove.

"You prob'ly guessed, but your mother's awful worried."

"Not surprising." So am I.

"And your father was over talking to the bishop again early this mornin'."

A shiver ran up her back. If only she could come clean with everyone she'd wronged or caused pain. Hen wanted to have the right attitude when she talked with the man of God ... wanted to make it known how very sorry she was, without abandoning the marriage vows she'd made to Brandon.

Not only was it a knotty problem, but as her husband had already said, it seemed quite impossible.

By the time Hen helped Rose Ann get situated at the table, with her leg propped on the wooden bench, their father had arrived in the kitchen for breakfast. Almost immediately, he motioned for Hen to join him on the summer porch. "Bishop wants to meet with you this mornin'," he said, his face drawn. "He's goin' to sit you down with him and Barbara - the three of yous."

Sit me down ...

"I'm willing," Hen said meekly.

His face turned even more somber. "He has some important things to say."

She cringed, wondering what would transpire. Then, scanning the breadth of the backyard, she asked, "Where's Mattie Sue right now?"

"She saw Nick out with the mules, so she ran over there a bit ago. That's the last I saw of her."

"Well, Dad - "

"Just leave her be. She needs to run free, to explore the place."

"But-"

"Ach, she's just fine."

Hen had struggled from the first hours of Mattie Sue's life with being overly protective. And now she couldn't seem to keep track of her. More than ever she needed to look after her daughter, because when it came down to it, Mattie Sue might be all she had left.