The Thorn Part 12

She had chosen her own way.

And now here she was all these years later, missing home more than ever. The memories and yearning had welled up and overtaken her until Hen could scarcely think of anything else.

Why can't Brandon understand?

It was impossible to brush their disagreement aside. But for tonight it appeared that Brandon had done just that. Hen rose and went into their s.p.a.cious closet to find the letters she'd left out earlier. While she sorted through them, Brandon finished his shower and slipped out to the family room. She heard the TV on now and decided to steer clear of him. Let him think about what she'd said - what they'd said to each other....

The tension between them could be felt across the house, and for the first time since they'd married, Hen hoped her husband might just sleep on the sofa again.

Settling down on the floor at the foot of the bed, she sat in her long cotton nightgown and read several of Arie's letters. It was hard not to compare her past friendship with Arie - who was happily married, according to Rose Ann, with three little ones already - to Hen's present relationship with Diane, who was altogether disgruntled with marriage and vowed openly that, now that she had one child, she was done having babies. "I never want the ha.s.sles of another newborn."

There were other differences between the two women, especially the way each viewed relationships. Diane, for instance, was just as quick to discard as to collect. Hen had noticed this with some degree of trepidation a few short months into their friendship. If Diane disliked your politics or thought you were closed-minded, she immediately brushed you off. No second chances with her. Hen had seen her do that with several work friends right before Karen was born.

Arie, for her part, had never been one to collect friends. She didn't seem to need more than one or two close relationships in her life. And for all the years she and Hen were best friends, Arie said she needed only Hen to confide in - until Hen had betrayed her, as she called it.

Hen sighed and opened another letter. Truth was, she'd pushed Arie into an impossible corner, where the only thing she could do was avoid Hen.

She heard Brandon changing TV channels, making more noise than was necessary. A frightening thought crossed her mind - what if her own husband rejected her?

Unable to consider such a thing for more than a fleeting second, Hen returned to reading Arie's encouraging letters - some written the year Hen was sick with a long-lasting flu. Others were penned the winter Arie and her family went by train to visit her mother's cousins near Sarasota, Florida, in a tiny village called Pinecraft.

Hen leaned down to lie on the floor, propping herself up on one elbow to continue reading. She missed her Amish friend terribly. She wished she could talk to Arie tonight. She felt lost and quite alone, even here in the bedroom she and Brandon had created as a haven against the world. Why couldn't Brandon comprehend what had happened to her when Mattie Sue came into their lives ... and into her arms? Hen merely longed to impart the wisdom of the ages to her darling little girl. Why was that unacceptable?

Will I always regret my decision to marry outside the church? The awareness that she felt regret startled Hen. Yet wouldn't all this fussing and fretting come to an end if Brandon simply allowed her what she wished for - a chance to work at Rachel's Fabrics, and more contact between Mattie and her Plain relatives? If he'd just be more flexible and open to the idea that good, simple living had something to offer her and Mattie - to all three of them - they could resume their previously happy relationship.

She glanced at the lamp table and saw her Bible tucked beneath the second shelf. How long had it been since she'd read it? She remembered years of reading aloud to her mother, confined in her wheelchair.... Oh, the joy the Scriptures brought to Mom, easing her pain in a way that Hen could not fathom. Whenever her mother couldn't sleep, she prayed. No doubt her mother was praying even now.

Hen took comfort in the thought and returned Arie's letters to the box.

Suddenly she got the idea to write to Arie. The desire had crossed her mind numerous times in the past five years, but never had she been as anxious to act on it as tonight.

She rose and found her stationery and best pen, then went to the small oak desk in the corner and began to write.

Dear Arie, Please don't dismiss me before you read this letter. After seeing you last Sunday at my parents' house, I've been thinking about our friendship. I know I hurt you with my choices. I hurt myself, too.

You were such a big part of my life, Arie. I realize this more each day. And I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday.

There are parts of my former life I still miss. I long to be around Plain folk again, and I've taken a job at Rachel's Fabrics. I'm really hoping you might stop by the shop sometime to see me. I'd love that!

I miss you, dearest friend.

With love, Hen Rereading her letter, Hen realized anew how impulsive she'd been to marry. How ironic that impulsive was just what Brandon had called her. And now she must do her best to keep her yearnings for the Old Ways at bay, or she'd spoil their marriage. There was disgust in Brandon's eyes whenever she argued for a renewed connection to her Plain life. Amish culture - and faith - had never held any appeal for him.

The fact that he still hadn't mentioned her new job surprised her. Was he a pressure cooker, ready to explode in frustration? Until recently, he'd never said a harsh word to her, but then, she hadn't provoked such a disruption in their lives till now, either. Though none of this is on purpose. Hen was torn right down the middle of her soul.

She folded the note to Arie and addressed the envelope. Then, going to the kitchen, she located a stamp in a small drawer, as well as a return address sticker. She stared at it as she pressed the words onto the envelope: Mr. & Mrs. Brandon Orringer.

Hen belonged with her husband. No longer was she Sol Kauffman's little Amish girl. It was essential that Hen make a greater attempt to please Brandon - to try to make her unfulfilling English life a happier one for them both.

Somehow, I must.

Rose was startled to hear the click of a stone against her bedroom window Sunday evening. Fully dressed for the Singing, she had been walking back and forth in her room, thinking of Silas. Would he ask her to ride afterward?

Going to the window, she raised it and looked down to see Nick standing there with his flashlight shining on his face. "What're you doin'?" she asked.

"Christian's takin' his buggy over to the deacon's," he said. "You can ride with him, if ya want. Unless you have another way."

Typically, brothers took their sisters to Singings so the girls were free to ride home with a beau. Always before, Rose had ridden with one of her married brothers, if they were going that way. Never once had she ridden with Christian Petersheim. "Are you goin'?"

"No."

She wished he would, but she wasn't surprised at the answer. "You never know who you might meet there," she urged. "It could be fun."

"Well, I'm sure not ridin' with Christian."

"Borrow the bishop's buggy, then - I'll ride along with ya."

Nick shook his head.

"Have it your way, then. Tell Christian I'll be right down." Rose felt bad for Nick as she closed the window. Heaven knew that if she couldn't persuade him to go, no one could. In all truth, he was as unpredictable and stormy as their autumn weather.

By the time Rose ran outdoors to catch up with Christian, she was surprised to see Nick still walking slowly up the road. "You should be getting your own courting buggy sometime soon, right?" she said.

"Puh! What for?"

"Well, so you can spend time with a girl you like. You'll never find one till you look."

He gave her a scrutinizing stare. "What are you so happy about?"

"Oh, I just haven't been to Singings in a while, is all." She folded her hands, glad she'd worn her mittens on this chilly night. Since Nick didn't have a sweetheart-girl, Rose didn't want to mention Silas Good. Didn't want to be rude ... or sound all puffed up because she had a date and he had no one.

He walked with her to the turnoff to the bishop's lane. "Well, so long," he said and kept going.

"Good-bye." She glanced back - his shoulders were slumped and his head hung down. She chided herself for not being more gentle. Surely he was still brooding over his mother's pa.s.sing. Oh, if only he could find it in himself to go along tonight! He shouldn't be alone when he felt so low.

Nevertheless, Rose hurried to hop into Christian's open buggy. "Denki for the lift," she said as she climbed in to sit at his left.

"Nick thought you needed a ride."

"Jah, my brothers have pretty much given up on me goin' to Singings anymore."

"You can always get a lift with me," Christian said.

She looked over her shoulder. "Why do ya think Nick doesn't care to go?"

"Have you ever known him to care about anything?" Christian held the reins and clicked his tongue to get the horse moving.

"Jah, he cares 'bout a lot of things. Don't you realize that?"

This brought a guffaw from Christian. "Aren't you s.p.u.n.ky!"

"Ain't something I try to be."

"You mean it just comes natural?" Christian chuckled. "Prob'ly it's the reason you and Nick get along," he said. "Two of a kind?" He eyed her. "Except Roses are s'posed to be sweet, ain't?"

She shrugged off his comment and turned her thoughts to Silas, recalling his thoughtful letter and their date last Sat.u.r.day. She was fairly sure he was serious about courting her, since they'd gone to spend the evening at his married brother's. Most fellows didn't want family to know who they were courting till closer to being published in church, two weeks before the wedding.

Christian interrupted her thoughts. "Nick seems more out of sorts than usual."

"Well, his mother just died."

Christian snorted. "No, it's more than that."

"Maybe he's missing his family ... his kin."

"He's a burr in the flesh," Christian muttered. "That's what."

What a thing for a brother to say! Rose stared at him. "It can't be easy, losin' someone you loved." She refused to reveal more about what Nick had said concerning his mother.

"Seems he'll use any excuse to fall into a slump." Christian shook his head. "Nick's mighty stubborn, too. All these years, he's never tried to fit into the family." He huffed loudly.

Rose bristled. "Nick might be happier in the English world. Ever think that?" She didn't add, "away from you," but she thought it.

Christian leaned back, the reins loose in his hands. "Believe me, I think on it plenty. And I wouldn't be surprised if my father suspects the same."

Rose suddenly felt disloyal, discussing Nick this way. Still, he'd taken no steps to build a life of his own among the People. "Maybe it's time he had his own buggy."

"Daed's offered a few times to purchase one, and a nice, fast trotter, too. But Nick keeps turnin' him down."

Falling into silence, Rose listened to the steady clip-clopping of the horse. She considered several of the girls at church, wondering which ones Nick might find appealing enough to court and marry, keeping him in the community. Any number of pretty girls could make him a good wife. She could think of at least two who were her own first cousins, which would be right nice, making Nick her relative, too, if he married one of them. She was still kicking herself for not convincing him to go to Singing tonight.

Just then, she heard the sound of galloping behind them. She turned to look just as the horse and rider sped by.

Christian's young driving horse started and jumped, pulling jerkily to the left.

"Oh goodness!" Without thinking, Rose grabbed Christian's arm. Are we going to tip over?

She clung to Christian, not realizing for a moment that she might have caused even more chaos. Every nightmare Rose had ever had since her mother's accident careened across her mind, and by the time Christian managed to restrain the horse, she could scarcely breathe.

She gave a sigh of relief and wondered, as she moved back to her side of the seat, if Christian would chide her.

Instead, he touched her arm. "You all right?"

She nodded, keeping her emotions in check. "I thought ... I wondered if what happened to Mamm might happen to us."

"Nick's foolish - he should've known better than to pa.s.s so close."

"That was Nick?" In her fright, she hadn't recognized him.

"Who else is so reckless?" Christian reined the horse over onto the side of the road and brought the buggy to a halt. He drew in a long, deliberate breath. "Jah, that was Nick for certain." He rubbed his hands on his face, covering his features, clearly upset.

"Christian, what is it?"

He adjusted his straw hat, then picked up the reins once again. "You ought to stay away from my brother," he stated.

She felt terribly weak all of a sudden. "I don't understand."

"He's a troublemaker."

She went silent, thoroughly frustrated and not at all surprised that Nick couldn't get along with as trying a brother as Christian surely was. Still, Mamm's comments years ago echoed in her mind. "Nick ain't our kind...."

Up ahead, the rider leaned forward on his horse, holding on to the mane ... riding bareback. Instinctively, she knew Christian was right - it was Nick up there.

Why had he changed his mind about going? It was downright flabbergasting, but even more surprising was his mode of travel. No girl would want to ride bareback with him after the Singing. Why is he bothering to go at all?

Unexpectedly, she felt like she had after Mamm's accident. Going up to the highest crest of the hill, behind Dat's pastureland, Rose had stood there a long time by herself, dreadfully upset about her mother. She'd gazed out at the sky, the velvety clouds floating behind the trees to the west. Everything - the b.u.t.tonwood trees, the willows, every aspect of nature that she saw around her - seemed painfully significant in that moment. Mamm got hurt because of me. She'd told herself this so many times she believed it.

Now, feeling nearly as sad and helpless as that day, Rose imagined riding alongside Nick up ahead, on the hard pavement. All the while, Christian's spiteful remarks about his brother whirled round and round like the windmill behind their barnyard.

Once they arrived at Deacon Samuel's, Rose sat alone in the buggy, outside the large barn. The bishop had once told the deacon and his elderly father that it was mighty good to run a dairy farm, because the never-ending work with cattle kept the minister's sons busy - and out of trouble - from dawn to dusk.

Rose needed a few minutes to sort out her thoughts before going inside. Clearly Christian and Nick had some sort of feud going on between them, and anything more she might say to defend Nick would just add fuel to the fire. As far as she knew, there had never been a time when Christian had treated Nick with any kind of respect. Like you'd treat a brother.

After a time, she stepped down from the buggy and made her way around the side of the barn to the sloping pathway that led to the upper level. Almost immediately she saw Silas in the glow of the gaslight. He stood in a huddle with more than a dozen young men, all wearing their Sunday best - black trousers and coats over white shirts. Some even wore small bow ties, indicating they were a bit more fancy and from a more progressive church than her own district.

Nick was there, as well, standing back against the far wall of hay bales, his arms folded over his chest. It was his usual way at the few gatherings he'd attended.

Quickly, Rose looked to see if her cousins Mary and Sarah were there yet - the two she'd had in mind as possibilities for Nick. But neither girl was present.

She glanced again at Nick, who looked utterly disinterested and bored. Why had he come? Was it her pleading?

She momentarily caught his eye, and he gave her an aw, shucks sort of smile and a subtle shrug, as if to say, I changed my mind.

When they gathered at the tables to sing, Nick stood in the corner away from the rest of them, glaring at his brother. Later, too, his dark eyes followed Christian as he went over to talk to Leah Miller, one of Arie's younger sisters.

Rose kept an eye out for Mary and Sarah and wondered if they were already outside with other fellows. She happened to spot Nick, only to be surprised that the two girls had found him. As cheerful as they seemed, Nick appeared much less mirthful, and totally unimpressed by their playful flirting.

She watched for a moment, suppressing a smile. Her cousins seemed genuinely interested in Nick, and the longer they cl.u.s.tered around him, talking, the more she was aware of her own strange unsettled reaction. Of course they like him, she told herself, annoyed by the flicker of gnawing in her stomach. What's wrong with that?

Turning away, she searched the crowd for Silas. He caught her eye, and she smiled as he came ambling across the barn to her. The sparkle of fondness in his blue eyes made her feel shy all of a sudden. "Rose Ann ... I'm glad you're here," he said, coming to stand next to her.

"Nice to see you again, Silas."

He gave her a warm smile and leaned near. "Would you like to go ridin' with me?"

"That'd be just fine."

As she turned to leave with Silas, Rose noticed Nick still standing in the corner. His hands were stuffed into his pockets now as Mary and Sarah continued their ceaseless giggling and gabbing.