The Thorn Part 14

"You'll lose your innocence forever," the bishop had warned her. "You'll never be able to come back ... not as you are now."

Hotheaded and rebellious, Hen knew she'd lost everything important to the People. But with those losses had come the love of a man like Brandon ... and their beautiful daughter, Mattie Sue.

Brandon pulled her into his embrace now. Then, after a moment, he clasped her wrist and inched back toward the bed, guiding her gently along. "Hard as this is to say, I think you should go back to your people for a while."

"What?" She struggled against her tears.

"Just listen." He ran his hands up and down her arms. "I see how miserable you are." He kissed her right hand and held it against his lips. "Why don't you go back to your father's home, Hen, and find out what you really want."

"Brandon ... no." She blinked her eyes, fighting back tears.

"I'll take care of Mattie, and you can come visit her as often as you like."

Something rose up in her and she stepped back. "I could never leave her," she declared. Then she suddenly realized what she'd just said. And what it implied.

His face looked as if she'd struck him. "And I will never let you take Mattie away from me."

"But it's for the best, Brandon. She knows nothing of the Lord and His ways." She sighed. "You know it's true."

His eyes grew dark and stern. "You'd rip Mattie away from me for something I don't believe in?" He got up and went into the closet, yanking a tie off the rack. "I'm serious, Hen ... I was trying to meet you halfway, but you're making it hard." He finished looping his tie, then tightened it beneath his dress-s.h.i.+rt collar.

"Surely we can compromise."

"You're compromising every thing you've been taught," the bishop had said. "Throwing away your very soul . . . "

Brandon squinted his eyes. "Well, you tell me how to find some middle ground."

She thought of her new job. "What about my working at Rachel's Fabrics?" She paused for a moment. "It would help to have your blessing on that."

He stared at her. "You want me to sign off on your working for an Amish establishment?"

"It's just a fabric shop," she said. "And we could take Mattie Sue to visit my parents and my brothers' families more than just once in a blue moon."

He grimaced. "How often?" He ran his hand over his chin.

"Every other weekend, maybe."

"No, Hen." He paused to shake his head. "I see no reason to forge a closer connection with your family. There's no place for someone like me in their world. You know that."

"Well, then, I'll take Mattie Sue to visit them. Why couldn't that work?" She was pleading now.

He brushed past her. "Look, Hen, this just isn't working out for you, is it?"

Tears stung her eyes. Brandon knew the truth, could see into her soul.

"Go back to where your heart is, hon."

"You are my heart," she whispered. "You, Brandon."

He went back into the closet to get his dress belt, not responding.

She looked out into the hall and saw Mattie Sue's little stuffed dog, with its brown patch over its eye, sitting there on the carpet, along with several other toys. "What about Mattie Sue? I can't leave my baby girl." She was sobbing now, unable to stop the flow of tears.

He stood stock-still, then moved quickly to close their bedroom door. He leaned against it, his jaw twitching. "How long, Hen? How long do you need to deal with this craziness?"

She didn't know, and that was the worst of it. The bishop had said she had no hope of salvation marrying an English man, embracing the modern life. Brus.h.i.+ng back her tears, Hen knew she could no longer function as a secular woman and mother. Or be the sophisticated wife Brandon really wanted. Worldly-wise in the bedroom, too ...

No longer could she speak. She was walking on fragile ground - this was their marriage she was tampering with. To love and to cherish ...

"Look, I'm going to be late for work." Brandon went to her again. "Listen, I get it. You're unhappy."

"But not with you." She had to rea.s.sure him, even though what she said wasn't making a bit of sense. "I just wish you'd understand that part."

His eyes gazed deep into hers as he pulled her to him, crus.h.i.+ng her to his chest. "I do understand, Hen. I believe I do," he mumbled into her hair.

Hearing this somehow lessened her pain. "We'll come and see you," she said. "And you can visit us, too."

He shook his head, saying in no uncertain terms that he would not chase after her. "You'll have to come here, Hen. Here."

He went to the door, placed his hand on the k.n.o.b, and turned to look at her. He studied her face, as if memorizing it. "If you end up choosing your old life permanently, then I'm warning you, it will be a whole new ball game. I'm talking an attorney and a custody suit - the whole nine yards. Not to hurt you, but it's important you understand my position, too." He opened the door to leave.

"Are you threatening me?"

"I don't want you making choices that isolate Mattie from me. She's my daughter, too."

Brandon's words lingered in her mind. She was certain he would not hesitate to fight for Mattie Sue, if it came to that.

Hen hurried to the kitchen to pour some coffee for her husband, her hands trembling as it dawned on her that this might very well be the last time.

As Rose finally arrived at the old Browning house, she looked around the driveway. There was no sign of Mr. Browning's car. Interesting, she thought, wondering how long he might be gone.

Quickly, she walked to the front door and knocked. She thought she heard movement inside, in the kitchen, but when no one came, she knocked harder. She waited, then went to one of the windows and peered in, cupping her hands on the gla.s.s. But she did not see Mr. Browning or his chair positioned in the usual spot.

Wonderful-gut, she thought, realizing she'd come on the ideal day. "Yoo-hoo, anybody home?" she called, tapping now on the windowpane.

To her great surprise, she saw a young woman with blond hair cut like an Amish boy's. The girl, who was surely in her late teens, pushed her chair back from the table and got up, swaying slowly back and forth. Her azure blue eyes were wide, like she wasn't sure what to do.

"Hullo?" Rose called again, knocking more gently this time. "Can ya come to the door? I'm Mr. Browning's housekeeper."

But the girl shook her head repeatedly and rubbed her fists on her eyes, like a little child might.

"No need to cry," she said through the gla.s.s.

The tomboyish young woman stared back, shaking her head in odd, jerky motions.

"I won't hurt you," Rose told her.

The girl just stood there, motionless now, her big eyes blinking. And now Rose noticed a slight resemblance between the girl and Mr. Browning. Was this his daughter?

"It's all right, honest," Rose said softly, leaning her face closer to the gla.s.s.

The girl made a frightened sound, then scampered off. Rose was mystified at the way she stumbled so awkwardly from the kitchen to the stairs, reaching out to balance herself along the wall before grabbing for the banister. Is she sick - dizzy, maybe?

Rose went to the door again and tried the k.n.o.b, but it was locked. Still baffled, she walked around the side of the house to the back door, thinking it might be open instead. It, too, was locked.

So someone is living upstairs. She inched away and headed out to the lane now, toward the road. When Rose was halfway down the short stretch between the house and the road, she turned back and saw the same girl at a dormer window on the third floor.

Why the attic?

She waved to the anxious girl and felt a wave of sadness, then great hesitation. "I'm goin' to help you, little bird ... whatever's wrong," she whispered. "I promise."

To Rose's amazement, the girl raised her hand in a half wave and held it against the windowpane for a moment, then slid it slowly down, as if she yearned to be made free.

Following her impromptu visit to the Browning house, Rose walked along the road, unable to erase from her mind the frightened face of the girl in the kitchen. It was hard to think of anything else.

There were a few dried cl.u.s.ters of wild flowers in the roadside ditch, and she recalled the way the little bees nestled down in the rose petals last summer, hiding in all the curls and layers. Might the girl at Gilbert Browning's be hiding away of her own accord, as well?

The days were moving quickly away from the lengthy, busy days of summer. Wedding season was just a month off. She wondered if either of her two engaged first cousins - Lydiann and Esther - might ask her to be one of their attendants. She hoped both girls didn't pick the same Tuesday or Thursday to wed. She simply could not choose between them.

Feeling the sun on her face, Rose knew there were nearly three miles yet to go, if she followed the roads and didn't cut through cornfields. She was glad she'd worn shoes instead of going barefoot as she often did at home, till the first frost.

Walking briskly along the gra.s.sy slope near the road, she heard a crow caw-cawing overhead. She looked up and promptly lost her balance, stumbling forward, and just that quickly, her leg buckled and she tried to catch herself, instead falling hard onto a rock with her right knee. A jagged pain shot through it as she cried out in pain.

She lay there in the ditch, not moving, gasping for air. Then, managing to collect herself enough to sit up, Rose slowly raised her skirt to inspect her leg. Her knee was all banged up, and an ugly bruise threatened. Her entire leg was throbbing now as she tried but failed to stand up.

Falling again, Rose wondered how she was ever going to get home. She began to crawl, dragging her leg, determined to get back onto the shoulder of the road. Maybe an Amish neighbor would see her and give her a ride. Mammi Sylvia would know what to do, she thought, wis.h.i.+ng her loving grandmother were here right now. The stinging pain in her knee was relentless, and tears p.r.i.c.ked her eyes.

Oh, but she wasn't a crybaby! She must be as brave as dear Mamm had been in the ravine, lying there conscious but unable even to pull herself out of the rugged area to get help. Thank goodness for whoever found her, she thought now, praying that someone might also happen along for her soon.

Overhead, large clouds were building in the distance, and lightning flickered. She could only hope, selfishly, for a heavy downpour. Then the men filling silo might halt their work and head home for a while, perhaps seeing her there on the road.

As the minutes slipped by and Rose inched forward, she was more determined than ever to keep moving, lest she still be creeping along by nightfall. Yet the searing pain in her knee took her breath away, and she had to sit to rest. She stretched out her legs and rubbed her swollen knee and the muscle below it. If she weren't in such pain, she would consider cutting through the fields to home. The distance was much shorter, only a little over a mile. But there was no way she could make her way through uneven cornfields like this.

Then, as if in answer to prayer, she saw a market wagon rumbling down the road toward her. The horse, of all things, looked like Pepper! Could it be Bishop Aaron or Christian?

She moved farther into the road, so the driver might see her and stop. She was a bit surprised to see Nick perched atop the wagon, holding the reins.

Immediately steering the horse off to the side of the road, he stopped and jumped down. He ran quickly to her and knelt beside her on the ground. "Rosie ... what happened?"

"I fell," she said, starting to cry. "Ach, silly me."

He didn't ask what she was doing so far from home on foot. He simply scooped her up into his strong arms and carried her to the wagon. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling terribly self-conscious this close to her friend.

Nick set her down gently on the wooden seat. "You want to stretch out in the back instead?" he asked, standing over her anxiously.

"No, I'll make a spectacle of myself." She could just picture people staring and wondering if she was half dead.

He dashed around to the driver's seat. "I'm headin' to Quarryville to pick up some tools for the bishop. I could drop you by the Amish doctor's." He glanced at her before reaching for the reins. "Or do ya want to go right home?"

"Might be best to take me to Old Eli's, jah," Rose managed to say, feeling dizzy. The Amish doctor would know if she needed more help than he could give.

Nick signaled Pepper to move forward. After they were on the road for a short time, he looked at her every so often as though he wasn't sure she was going to be all right ever again.

Nick was fairly quiet on the ride to Quarryville, but at one point he asked what Rose had been doing clear down there, near Jackson's Sawmill Covered Bridge. Clasping her knee, she explained that she'd gone to spy on Gilbert Browning's house. "I actually saw the girl - the one you and I saw in the second-story window Wednesday night."

"A girl, you say?"

"A teenager, I'd guess. She was down in the kitchen." Rose told him how she'd called through the window repeatedly. "I wanted so badly to talk to her."

Nick looked surprised. "Did ya?"

"Oh no. She was scared of me and ran right out of the room and up the stairs." She paused to catch her breath and felt a surge of renewed pain. "'Tween you and me, I think she might be slow in her mind."

"Like Samuel's Abe?" he asked, referring to the deacon's special grandson.

"Come to think of it, very much like Abe." Rose remembered taking care of Abe recently while looking after Mamm, too. She'd seen Nick seek out young Abe, as well, after Preaching services during the common meals, or when the boys played cornerball and other outdoor games after corn-husking bees and whatnot. Abe always looked comfortable talking to Nick.

"There's just somethin' about Abe," said Nick. "He loves horses, 'specially Pepper."

"Jah, and he likes standin' right up close to your horse to pet him."

"Well, it ain't my horse."

"Might as well be."

Nick chuckled and raised his left hand like he was about to reach over and touch hers. Instead, he reached again for the reins.

"Bein' near the animals seems to help him." Nick began to talk about the Fresh Air Program, which allowed some disabled children to spend summers with a farm family. She'd heard about the program from folk involved with the seasonal foster care.

As they pulled into the driveway leading to the Amish doctor's place, the sky looked ready to open up in a deluge of rain. Rose felt the first few drops on her head as Eli Stoltzfus's house came into view. "Oh, just in time," she whispered, hoping to get some relief from the pain.

"You goin' to be all right?" Nick looked at her sympathetically.

She smiled faintly. She'd never seen him so caring, without a hint of his usual teasing.

He stopped the horse and jumped down to the hitching post, his ponytail jerking. Then he hurried around to lift her out of the wagon and carried her to the back door. There he stood with her in his arms, unable to ring the doorbell. He called through the screen door for someone to come and help.

"I feel so dappich - clumsy," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Just hold on to me. We'll get you better right quick."

A young woman came and opened the door. "Oh, dear girl, what happened to ya?"

Nick explained that she'd fallen along the roadside and followed the nurse inside. In the first available room, he lowered Rose onto the examining table, then awkwardly backed away, lingering only briefly to say he'd return for her within the hour.

"Denki, Nick ... so much," Rose said. Then she leaned back into the fresh pillow the kindly woman tucked beneath her head.

Struggling to keep her emotions in check, Hen pulled the car out of the driveway. She knew better than to look too long at the pretty little house she'd always loved - mine and Brandon's. And she certainly hadn't known what to tell Mattie Sue as she loaded their suitcases and several large boxes filled with toiletries, mementos, and her Bible, too. Hen had already taken the liberty of packing all of Mattie's dolls, toys, books, and art supplies into the trunk. She'd also included the materials for the quilted wall hanging she was making, as well as Mattie's pillow and favorite comforter and matching sheet set. In short, she'd packed everything she thought her daughter would miss ... as well as the things Hen most cared about, including Brandon's and her small wedding alb.u.m. She did not take any family pictures off the wall, nor remove the large framed wedding picture from the dresser. Those would have been too obvious to Brandon.