The Thorn (7 page)

She wondered sometimes if Nick still thought of himself as an outsider amongst the People. He so rarely shared anything personal. At least not verbally. His eyes, well ... it was downright uncanny how he expressed his thoughts with a brooding gaze. As for her, there were plenty of occasions when she'd talked his ear off. Moments when she considered him a right good friend, or nearly like a cousin. Then, other times, he acted like the worst ever brother, ignoring her completely - or tormenting the daylights out of her.

"Do you ever hear from your mother?"

He drew a quick breath. "Before I left, she said she'd come get me one day ... when she got herself sober." Tugging on his gray shirt sleeve, he looked down at his scuffed-up work boots. "Still waitin' for that."

"Ach, Nick. Surely she'll come." If she promised.

He brought up the family meeting last night, at the bishop's. "I was there only a short time before I was asked to leave. Kinda like the meetin' last week," he said more softly.

Rose listened, feeling sorry for him.

"As for my real dad, I doubt he even cares where I am." Nick's voice sounded empty. "From what Bishop tells me."

Rose curled her toes inside her old black boots. How awful sad!

"Will you continue to stay on with the bishop's family, then?" she asked.

He fingered the dandy brush in his hand. "Hard to know what to do, really." He raised his head and looked her square in the face.

"Don't forget, they're your family, too." She sighed and glanced in the direction of the farmhouse, remembering what Christian had blurted out to him yesterday. "Actually, if ya think about it, all the People are." She hoped and prayed Nick might sometime accept the bishop as his father.

"Time I make my own way," he said flatly. "My own choices, too." Nick blew out his breath and looked away just that quick, like he'd told her too much.

"Well, Christian's a church member, though he still works at home - and sometimes over here, too," she pointed out.

"He'll be getting his own place soon enough. Wait and see."

"Get himself hitched, ya mean?"

"I doubt he's found his girl yet." Nick paused, then handed her the stiff-bristled dandy brush to flick the dirt out of the horse's thick hair. "Here," he said, "you'll be needin' this next."

She stooped to put the rubber curry brush on the floor, away from the feeding trough. It was a mystery to her and everyone why Nick had stayed on at the bishop's after his eighteenth birthday. And since he hadn't yet become a church member, she wondered if he was thinking of returning to the English world from whence he'd come. There had been talk amongst some of the older folk that he was a bad seed. And there was Mamm's worry that his Plainness had been for the bishop's benefit all these years. Still, Nick hadn't caused any real trouble, as far as Rose knew.

She brushed the horse more vigorously now. If Christian hoped to keep working for his bishop father till he married, could Nick do the same? If so, he ought to start attending the Sunday Singings again, instead of riding horses with her. She'd only seen him once with a girl at the youth gatherings in the few times he'd gone.

I'm more sociable than he is, even being stuck at home with Mamm these months!

She considered Nick's willingness to share openly with her today. It made her sad to think his father had been so disinterested as to run off like that. Nick's solemn eyes and downturned mouth revealed that he'd never recovered.

Nick waved as he headed off to another part of the stable area, and she offered a smile.

"Goodness, I need to hurry 'n' finish up," she whispered, suddenly remembering her mother, who would be awakening from her long afternoon nap about now.

There were times when she tucked Mamm in for a nap and slipped out to tend to the animals that she almost forgot her mother's plight ... and how it affected all of them.

Being the main caretaker had been more difficult than Rose anticipated, and she'd chafed against the fear that she might miss out on getting married. The fact that Silas Good had bided his time gave her more than a single ray of hope.

Solomon and the bishop were in the woodworking shop, leaning over the workbench, talking about ordering a small load of horse manure for their vegetable gardens. The bishop suggested they go up to White Oak Road themselves and help to load it.

"How'd last night's family meeting go?" Sol asked.

Bishop Aaron shook his head. "Not so gut."

As familiar with Nick as he was, Sol didn't think one iota less of the bishop for voicing this.

"The whole situation really wore on me yesterday. So much so that I crept into Nick's room last night ... stood there in the dark at the foot of his bed," Aaron said. "A terrible temptation came over me - one I'd never experienced before."

"Oh?"

"It was all I could do to keep from going over there, while he lay sound asleep, and cutting that scandalous ponytail off his head!"

Sol was downright startled. Bishop Aaron had always seemed to be a tolerant father. "How'd ya keep from doin' it?" he asked.

"Gritted my teeth, that's what ... and turned away from the pull of righteous indignation." The bishop's face was stern.

"What would cuttin' off Nick's long hair accomplish?"

The bishop nodded slowly and tugged on his suspenders. "That's just what I asked myself in bed later. What gut would it do?"

Sol thought on that. "You've always treated Nick as your own."

Bishop looked at him askance. "Well, how else would I treat a boy who's been with us all these years?" Then, with a thoughtful sigh, he added, "Who the Lord handpicked to come here ... and who I'd always hoped to adopt."

Solomon felt sorry he'd uttered a word.

Scuffing his feet on the woodshop floor, Aaron admitted it wasn't easy to live with such a defiant boy.

Pulling his pencil from behind his ear, Sol asked, "You ever ask Nick to cut his hair, in accordance with the Ordnung?"

"Oh, more times than I can count."

"Well, what's he say?"

"Nothin' ... just shrugs and keeps on working."

"What if Barbara asked him?"

Aaron frowned. "I'm tryin' to keep the stress off her. But my daughters have teased and tormented Nick something awful over his `Samson locks.'"

Sol shook his head. "I guess I'm with you, then - I would've wanted to cut his ponytail off, too."

The man of God let out a restrained chuckle, and they both returned to figuring up how much manure they'd need, planning to divide the expense of having it hauled in on a manure spreader to make quick work of the chore once it arrived.

An hour before supper, Hen surprised Rose with yet another visit. As she walked with Nick across the baryard, Rose's legs felt sluggish from sweeping and redding up the barn.

"See ya tomorrow," she told Nick, who'd spotted Hen's car.

He nodded abruptly and scooted off toward the grazing land without saying more.

Immediately Rose looked for Mattie Sue, but this time Hen was alone. It was actually startling to see her sister here again. Shouldn't she be at home cooking?

But then Rose remembered "mother's day out," or so Hen called the days Mattie spent with her little English friend. "Hullo, sister," she called, lifting the barnyard gate and going toward the backyard. She waited for Hen to make her way to the sidewalk.

"You look all in, Rose."

She gave a little laugh. "Almost said the same'bout you." She motioned to the screened-in porch. "Can ya sit awhile?"

Hen dropped her purse on the wood floor and sat down with a sigh. "Might do me some good."

Rose pulled a wooden chair over next to Hen's.

"How's Mom?" asked Hen.

"Still restin', hoping to knock this cold. Mammi Sylvia has an ear out for her."

"I hope she's feeling better soon." Hen picked at her floral print skirt, like the ones the Mennonite girls up at the Bart general store sewed for themselves. "Maybe you won't know what I mean if I say this, but do you ever wish you could relive your life?" Hen leaned back against the chair. "Do you ever have regrets?"

"What sort of regrets?"

"Do you wish you could go back and make different choices?"

Rose was surprised, but she considered the question for a moment, and thought of Mamm ... and the day of the accident. "Jah, I guess I do, sometimes." No, all the time. She caught Hen's eye. "What about you? Do you ever regret marrying Brandon?"

"Well, no ... we wouldn't have Mattie Sue if I hadn't."

Rose noticed a glint in Hen's eye. Something was amiss. "Are you all right, Hen?"

Her sister wore a sudden frown. "No need to tell Mom any of this. Promise?"

"Any of what?"

"Just what I said."

Rose couldn't understand why she was being asked to promise, but because she knew Hen very well, she suspected her sister must be struggling with something. Hopefully it's not about her and Brandon! The thought made her awful sad.

"I'm planning to make an Amish dress for Mattie Sue," Hen said quietly.

"Why?"

"And I've been teaching her a few words in Deitsch, too." Hen glanced over her shoulder tentatively. "It's time for Mattie Sue to know more about her Plain heritage."

Rose did not understand this new talk whatsoever. She had observed through the years of her sister's marriage that Brandon was determined to keep Amish ways out of their home and life. And besides, the People were always saying that once a person left, the world swallowed them up. Yet if that was so, why was Hen coming back to visit so often?

Hen grimaced faintly. "Oh, Rosie, my daughter's missing out on so many of the old traditions."

Rose Ann hardly knew what to say. Wasn't that the reason for marrying an Englischer?

"I just can't figure out how to mix the Plain ways with the modern. It's so hard." Her sister's voice cracked.

Rose lightly touched Hen's wrist. But you didn't want anything to do with our ways....

They sat there silently looking at the barn, where the bishop and his son, Christian - and Dat, too - were going in and out of the sliding wooden door. A heavy feeling pervaded the atmosphere, and Rose hoped Hen wasn't going to get herself into hot water with her husband.

After a moment, Hen leaned forward and clasped her knees through her long skirt, linking her fingers. "If I tell you something, will you keep it mum?" She looked at Rose.

"Two promises in two minutes?"

"I'm simply asking you to keep everything we've just talked about private. That's all."

Rose tried to absorb the seriousness in Hen's eyes.

"I need to tell you this, sister to sister," Hen said. "Do I have your word?"

It was easy to say she'd be silent about something and quite another to remember what she'd promised. With a sister like Hen, Rose had often had to keep track of what was a secret and what wasn't. "Of course you do," she said at last.

Hen's face beamed, like she was ever so relieved. "I did something today I've wanted to do for quite a while."

Rose braced herself.

"I filled out a job application."

"You did what?"

Her sister nodded happily. "I'm holding my breath I'll get the job."

Rose groaned. She felt she knew where this was going.

"And I'll be expected to put my hair in a bun when I work."

"You want to work at an Amish store?"

"Rachel's Fabrics."

What does it mean? Rose's heart was torn.

Hen continued. "Rachel wants me to look Plain, which shouldn't be too hard, right? After all, I am."

"Will you start talking Deitsch again, too?" Rose gave a nervous laugh, not sure she wanted to know all that Hen was up to.

"I feel desperate, Rosie. I really miss the old life ... and my family." Her sister smiled sadly and looked down. "You have no idea."

"Oh, Hen."

The silence hung in the air. So her worldly sister had finally woken up and realized she'd made a terrible mistake.

"I'm hopin' you might be able to help with Mattie Sue ... if I get the job, I mean."

Rose didn't see how she could take on more responsibility, but she loved her sister's little girl and felt sorry she'd had no choice in being raised English. "Just remember I'm busy in the afternoons, and Wednesday mornings, too."