The Thorn Part 21

"Well, when?" she asked, her heart in her throat.

"Honest, you'd really go?"

"Just there and back," she said. Only for you .. .

And with that, Rose headed into the house. By now, it was too late to continue reading Emma. She would simply go to bed and pick up the book another time ... and try to put the emotions of this strange night behind her. Oh, if that is even possible.

The damp, windy weather wasn't exactly the best for fixing Gilbert Browning's front porch, but Nick would still make quick work of the sc.r.a.ping. Rose guessed he would need to match the paint in Quarryville and come back to do the priming and painting another day.

She'd looked for Nick from the kitchen window earlier that Thursday morning and saw him out near the barn, talking with Dat and Christian. It was strange to think now of being held in his strong arms last night - out there in the backyard, of all places! What was he thinking? And, worse, why had she been so taken by his sudden affection?

No, it wasn't like that, Rose a.s.sured herself. Although, now that she considered it, she had no idea just what she'd felt at all.

Around eight o'clock, she noticed Nick with his tools slung in a bag on his shoulder, riding out toward the road on Pepper. Our horse, she thought, surprising herself with the thought.

She wondered why he hadn't bothered to hitch up to a carriage. Nick was taking this sort of shortcut a lot lately. Surely the bishop frowns on that.

Seeing him fly down the road reminded Rose again of Nick's odd behavior last night. For the life of her, she could not understand his keen interest in going to a big city. And if it was truly a visit to his mother's grave in Philadelphia that drew him, why had he waited so long to say so? Or is he using it as an excuse?

She also wondered if his interest in his modern beginnings was the reason he'd never joined the church. This made her tremble - not for her sake, or for the possible loss of their friendship - but for Nick's very soul.

It was all coming back to Hen - making meals from scratch and cooking on a woodstove, relying on gas lamps and lanterns at night while lingering at the table after supper with her family ... and reading the Bible afterward. Even bowing her head with the family for silent prayer.

Living in one accord, she thought as she opened the door to Rachel's Fabrics. She could hear Rachel and several ladies already at work in the smaller back room, chattering softly in Pennsylvania Dutch while working on a quilt. For a moment it made her feel homesick to hear them, and then she remembered she was right back where she'd longed to be. While half of her felt so alone without Brandon, her heart was at home.

She had been grateful for her sister-in-law Kate's eagerness to look after Mattie Sue once more this morning. Mattie's little face had brightened like a Christmas bulb when Hen brushed her hair back into a bun and told her she would be spending the day with her Amish cousins.

Mattie had asked if she was going to work again, and Hen a.s.sured her it was not going to be more than twice a week. It pleased her to see how rapidly her daughter was taking to this way of life, soaking it up like a thirsty sponge.

Hopefully she's beginning to appreciate people more than things.

In fact, when Hen had arrived with Mattie at josh and Kate's farmhouse, Mattie ran straight into the kitchen and hugged Linda and Katie, then leaned into the playpen and kissed Annie Mae right on the lips.

She's finally getting the chance to know my side of the family. Hen looked up from the cash register, apprehensive about calling Brandon this evening. How would he receive her? She felt terribly cut off from him without a phone. Aside from the letter, she hadn't contacted him since arriving Monday morning, three days ago.

Too long to be silent.

Looking out the shop window, Hen spotted a bank of dark thunderheads rising in the north. Lavina Zook, one of the regular customers, was getting ready to leave. "Thanks for coming in today," Hen said. The middle-aged Amishwoman was trying to push her wallet down into her overflowing pocketbook.

"It'll be makin' down real soon," Lavina said, frowning with a glance out the window. "I best be getting home."

"There was a stiff, cold breeze earlier. You take care now."

"Oh, I'll be just fine. Will prob'ly be back next week for who knows what."

"And we'll be here to help," Hen said casually, but her mind was still on her husband. How would she feel if he turned down her invitation? She had tried not to expect anything remarkable to come of her letter so that she wouldn't be hurt if he either snubbed or totally rejected it. Was he even missing her?

Lord, will you work in Brandon's heart? she thought, then a.s.sisted a pair of customers with color choices for their quilt patterns.

Later, Hen was straightening up the counter where fabric samples and thread were strewn about when she looked up to see her old friend Arie Zook coming through the door with her baby. "Arie, hi!" she said, holding herself back from rushing over to hug her.

Arie's freckled cheeks flushed red beneath her black outer bonnet, but she looked right at Hen. "I got your letter."

"Did you?" Hen felt nearly embarra.s.sed now - such unpleasant awkwardness between former bosom buddies. The gulf between the counter and the few yards to the door seemed unsurpa.s.sable for a moment.

"Denki for writing to me."

"I've wanted to for the longest time," Hen replied.

"You're lookin' nice and Plain," Arie observed. "How do ya like workin' here?"

"Rachel's really wonderful." She glanced toward the quilting room. "I'm enjoying it."

"That's gut."

"I haven't decided on a pattern yet," Hen forged ahead, "but I'm determined to make a quilt for Mattie Sue sometime this winter." She glanced about, glad no one was shopping on this side of the store. Oh, all the months and years she'd missed Arie!

"Such an ambitious project for one person."

"I'm hoping my grandmother will help, and maybe Mom, too." She said she was presently living back at her parents' home.

Arie's face fell. "Oh, so very sorry."

"My little girl and I are staying in the small Dawdi Haus. Lord willing, it will only be for a short time," Hen added.

"I hope things work out for ya," Arie said, eyes solemn.

Hen moved out from behind the counter and went to her. "I'm glad you came by."

Arie offered her a small smile. "I want to apologize for how I behaved that Sunday at your parents'." She sighed and set the baby carrier on the floor. "I haven't been able to stop thinkin' how it must've hurt you."

"But I hurt you years ago. . . ." Hen couldn't finish and was comforted by Arie's tender embrace.

"I don't know how things are going to be for Mattie Sue and me," she said softly when they'd walked over to the corner, out of earshot. "I'm going to need your prayers, I know that."

Arie nodded her head. "I'd be happy to help out with your daughter, too, if you ever need it. All right?"

Hen blinked back her tears. This longed-for reunion with Arie was as sweet as it was timely. She truly needed an understanding friend.

When Arie was finished shopping for a mere handful of sewing notions, she paid cash for the items and turned to leave. "I'll look for ya on Sunday at Preaching, Hen."

"Denki. I'll be there." It was in that moment, Hen realized with a smile, that Arie had come to Rachel's Fabrics primarily to see her.

While Mamm sat in her wheelchair and did her needlepoint, Rose read aloud from Emma to fill up the silence. She fell easily into the appealing setting, which struck her as a very romantic time. Mamm stopped her occasionally to comment on all the many social events and gatherings - or the women's frivolous preparations for them. Such occasions seemed to occupy all of their waking hours, and at one point, Mamm mused that the young women were "downright obsessed" with wondering who would be their dance partner.

The rumble of thunder caused Rose to look up from the book, and her eyes met Mamm's. "Read from the Scriptures awhile, Rosie."

She went to retrieve the old family Bible. "Would ya like to hear a psalm?"

"Oh, Psalm Ninety-Eight would be ever so nice," Mamm said. "Practice reading it in German, jah?"

Rose faltered in places but managed to get through all of it.

"'0 sing unto the Lord a new song,' " Mamm whispered once Rose was finished. "His mercies are new each and every day. Never forget."

Rose wondered if her mother might need to rest, but when she suggested moving her onto the daybed, Mamm set down her sewing. "Let's just talk a bit."

Bless her heart, Mamm sounded downright lonely. "That's nice," Rose said.

Her mother folded her slender hands in her lap. "Your sister's car. . ." she said. "Can ya see it from the road?"

"Jah."

This clearly troubled Mamm. "Ach, I wonder if one of us shouldn't say something to her."

"Well, who's to know how long Hen will stay?"

Mamm shook her head. "Heaven knows she best be makin' up with her husband. And mighty soon, too."

Rose agreed. "Does it make ya feel better to know Hen was over to see the bishop and Barbara early this week?"

"Your father told me." Mamm reached out to clasp her hand. "Oh, Rosie, who ever thought our Hen would return like this?"

"Seldom happens, ain't?"

"Never, as far as I know. Once a person leaves, they tend not to look back."

Rose realized the same might prove true for Nick. Concerned, she said, "Besides baptism and an interest in community and the Old Ways, what would keep a young person in the church?"

"Well, a hunger for spiritual things, first and foremost." Mamm gave a rare smile. "But a perty girl can sometimes thwart a young man's worldly plans."

"So courting an Amish girl might actually keep a fella from goin' fancy?"

"It's kept many a boy in the church through the years."

Was the bishop trying to do that - encouraging Nick to spend time with her?

Just then Rose thought of pretty Sarah, the fairer of her two cousins who'd flirted with Nick. Oh, if she could only be the matchmaker Emma Woodhouse was in the wonderful-good book she was reading! But ... how to go about it?

"Why do you ask?" Mamm said softly, eyes fixed on her.

"Just wondered, is all.,, "Not thinkin' of anyone in particular?"

She wouldn't lie. "Let's just say I'm hoping to match up the perfect girl with someone ... and mighty soon."

"Could be a daunting task."

Rose looked at her, wondering if Mamm suspected what she was thinking. "Well, I'll tread lightly." They were venturing into unfamiliar territory, having never discussed romantic relationships before. Quickly, she changed the subject to the applesauce-making frolic. "Who all's comin' Sat.u.r.day?"

"My sister Malinda and Barbara, next door. And Verna and her husband, Levi, and Christian, too."

Rose supposed Nick might help haul away the apple skins and cores with his brother like other years. "Will Josh and Kate come, as well?" She hoped so for Hen and Mattie Sue's sake.

"Kate talked 'bout bringing supper for all of us, but I doubt they'll come early enough to put up applesauce." Mamm went on to say that Barbara and the bishop were going in with them on two kinds of apples - Staymen Winesap and Golden Delicious. "I daresay the work should go quick."

"Are we removin' the stems this year?"

"Barbara prefers the lighter sauce, so we'll pull them off."

"Might be a gut job for Mattie Sue and me, then."

Mamm was getting sleepy, nodding her head either in agreement or fatigue - Rose wasn't sure which. Reaching for her book, Rose began to read again, quickly reentering the early-nineteenth century tale right where she'd left off. The humorously capricious Emma had struck a nerve in Rose, seeing as how the character was the exact same age as she was at the outset of the story, and had the same name as Mamm. But, goodness, if Emma Woodhouse wasn't careful, she was going to matchmake herself right into spinsterhood!

They were in the midst of a heavy rainstorm by the time Rose saw Hen - from the front room window - turning off Salem Road into the driveway. She was very close to finishing Emma and hoped Hen would take her to the library so she could replenish her supply of novels. They could get there and back before suppertime preparations should begin.

The benefits of having a car in the family ...

Only Hen knew of the armloads of books Rose had borrowed from the Quarryville library from her childhood on. Twice each month when they were young, Hen and Rose had gone to the small library, taking along the same box to fill with books. During the warmest months, Rose had read in the barn amidst the horses and mules. The librarian had joked when she returned the box that they'd have to air out the books for days on end, and Rose knew she wasn't kidding.

"Do ya have time to run me up to the library in Quarryville?" Rose said, holding her umbrella as she tapped on Hen's car window. Mattie Sue was sitting happily in the backseat, playing with the new rag doll Rose had made for her.

Hen looked at her wrist.w.a.tch. "I don't see why not." She turned and asked Mattie Sue if she'd like to go and check out a few books, too.

Nodding, Mattie was all smiles, looking like any other little Amish girl in the community. "I want a storybook about a puppy dog, Mommy."

Hen turned back to Rose. "How soon do you want to leave?"

"Mamm's asleep, so let's hurry 'n' go now," she said, excited. "I'll let Mammi know right quick and get my stack of books." Except for the last one, she thought, having a delicious inkling that Emma just might end up with Mr. Knightley ... and hoping so.

At the library, Hen silently rehea.r.s.ed her upcoming phone conversation with Brandon. She planned to call after she made supper for the family, eager to help out as much as possible. Rose Ann and Mattie Sue were presently engrossed in finding "puppy" books to read later that night. Rose had promised Mattie Sue on the drive there that she would come over to the Dawdi Haus and spend some time with her.

Hen would've sat with Mattie, too, helping her choose which stories to check out, but one particular book had caught Hen's eye on the way to the children's section of the library - an adult selfhelp book that addressed common differences in most marriages. She'd picked it up to see if the author had Christian credentials but found it was written by a secular marriage therapist. Even so, the chapter lineup tackled so many of her and Brandon's issues that Hen was determined to read it.

The sooner, the better ...

Once Hen returned from the library, she and Mammi Sylvia managed to whip up and serve a meal of roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, b.u.t.tered corn and green beans, and two pies - Dutch apple and cherry.

After eating with the family in the main house, Hen left Mattie Sue with Rose Ann to dry dishes for Mammi Sylvia. Feeling pleased with herself for having remembered all the tricks of woodstove cooking, she slipped outside to walk across the field to the east side of the house.

The air had turned nippy after the day's rain, and the sky was faint with light. The shanty phone booth stood in the middle of the wet pasture, near a few trees, still looking as if it threatened to topple over in the least bit of wind - something it had done in several windstorms. As Hen went inside, she recalled the times she'd come here to use the phone, sometimes for emergencies, sometimes to call Brandon just as she was now. She searched for the tiny initials she'd carved with Brandon's pocketknife: H&B. There they still were, less vivid with the years.

Hen felt the heat of tears rising in her eyes, but blinked them back. She felt almost as if this call tonight were an emergency of the heart. She dialed, and Brandon answered, sounding uneasy and distant.

"Hi, hon ... it's Hen."

"I wondered when - or if - you'd call."

She guarded her words. "We needed some s.p.a.ce ... like you suggested."