The Judgment (20 page)

With love,

Hen

She’d thought of asking that Brandon attend Preaching services
with
her and Mattie Sue, but realized it was unrealistic to expect Brandon would agree.
I may be asking for more than he can handle as it is.

Hen folded the letter and tucked it away in her stationery drawer in the nearby cupboard. She would read it again tomorrow before mailing. If she had second thoughts, she’d rewrite it completely . . . or discard the idea altogether.

She remembered something her grandfather Jeremiah often said when she was little:
“If you marry in haste, you’ll repent in leisure.”

Hen made her way to the wooden hooks near the back door, where she kept her black shawl and outer bonnet. Donning them, she then headed next door to help her grandmother with Mom, hoping by some miracle things might’ve taken a turn for the better. Apart from that, she didn’t see how her mother could continue living.

Her sister strongly encouraged Rose to attend the quilting bee on Thursday morning, even though Rose protested mildly, determined to take her turn looking after Mamm, who, despite her continuing pain, seemed slightly better today. But despite her repeated objections, both Hen and Mammi Sylvia assured her they were planning to be on hand to assist.

“Only if you’re sure,” Rose replied.

“Go on, now,” Mammi Sylvia said, flapping a dish towel at her.

I’m sure getting out of the house more often,
she thought with a pang of guilt.

When Rose arrived at the Esh farmhouse, she was happy to see Mandy and an older sister, Linda. Soon Rose was seated at the north end of the large quilting frame—where she was told Annie Mast typically sat. Not long after, here came Arie Zook, Hen’s friend, with her six-month-old baby, Levi, sound asleep in her arms. Mandy offered the downstairs bedroom for a quiet spot for the wee one, and right away Arie was back, looking tired but saying how eager she was to have some “woman-talk.” Rose assumed it had been a busy and, perhaps, trying week for Arie as a young mother of two. She didn’t ask where Arie’s three-year-old, Becky, was spending the day, but guessed either Arie’s mother or mother-in-law was babysitting.

One by one, all twelve spots at the frame were filled with expert quilters, including Mandy and Linda’s mother, Laura, and a number of Esh girl cousins. Together they worked, talking and laughing, even having a contest to see who could get the most stitches on a single needle. Laura was the consistent winner with eight, although she was humble about it, ducking her head and blushing pink.

There was plenty of gossip, more than usual, what with the wedding season in full swing. Several more couples had been published at the last Preaching service, which meant some of the womenfolk present would have to choose between two, or even three, wedding invitations in a single day.

Hours later, after a pause for the noontime dinner of mashed potatoes, two kinds of meat, and many desserts made by the hostess, they resumed their work. When the quilting was finished, all that was left to do was the edge, which several women would hem once the patchwork quilt was removed from the frame. The group seemed pleased that yet another quilt was nearly ready to be included in the Christmas batch going to Philadelphia next Thursday morning. Mandy said there would be any number of tied comforters, too, which took less time to complete than the intricately stitched quilts.

During a lull in the conversation, Mandy asked who’d like to go along to help deliver the quilts. When Mandy and Linda both turned and openly stared at her, Rose felt her cheeks flush. Not wanting to appear anxious to volunteer, she nodded slowly, agreeing to go with Mandy and her mother, who planned to hire a Mennonite van driver.

The women said their good-byes, and Rose hitched up her horse and buggy and headed home, still aware of Mandy’s and Linda’s gawking at her.
Why? What do they think they know?

Yet all during the buggy ride home, Rose had the strangest, nearly giddy feeling about the upcoming trip.
It’s not like I’ll see Nick there,
she kept telling herself . . . but a part of her surely hoped otherwise.

Chapter 19

S
eeing Brandon’s car pull into the driveway on Saturday and inch toward Hen’s Dawdi Haus, Solomon picked up his pace through the pasture. He kept walking, finding it curious that Brandon merely sat there in his car, not getting out.
Cold feet?
Sol wondered. He held his breath and hoped this wretched separation might come to a quick end.

Sol was fast approaching the barnyard now. He figured Brandon might just end up staying put in his fancy car if Sol didn’t go over and make some small talk. Maybe he could help his son-in-law work up the nerve to go and knock on his bride’s door.

“Hullo, Brandon. Can I help ya?” Sol said through the car window.

Brandon rolled down the glass. “I can’t believe I came all the way out to the sticks to talk to my wife.” He looked over at the little house. “Would you mind giving her a message for me?”

“Be glad to.”

“Tell Hen I received her letter . . . and, in a word, the conditions she laid out are preposterous.” Brandon muttered something under his breath, as if talking to himself.

Sol was taken by surprise. “All right.” Wishing he could do something to fix this, he glanced at the main house. “Say, we’re havin’ some mighty tasty roast beef for supper. Can ya stay and eat?”

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

Brandon turned the key in the ignition. “Will you tell Hen one more thing? I’ll be contacting my lawyer first thing Monday. Time’s up!”

Sol felt his stomach tighten into a knot. “What happened to giving her more time?”

“I’ve changed my mind. Unless she’s getting independent counsel, she’ll need to come to his office, since she refuses to do the sensible thing and return home.”

Sol’s mouth dropped open. Brandon was clearly fed up. “I’ll let her know.”

He didn’t wait for Brandon to back up and leave. Sol waved disgustedly and headed for the barn.

Hen flinched and her body sagged when her father repeated the words Brandon had so curtly spoken to him.
We’re coming undone,
she thought, closing the door behind her father as he left for the main house.

She headed upstairs to look in on Mattie Sue, who was playing in her room with some of Rose’s faceless dolls. Oodles of them were in rows along the braided rug where she sat. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Mommy?” Mattie Sue said as she looked up from her cozy spot. “Do I have to wear English clothes to visit Daddy next time?”

If there is a next time,
Hen thought crossly.

“We’ll see, honey.” She didn’t want to trouble Mattie Sue with the latest news from Brandon. But she had to do
something,
even if it meant getting her own lawyer. And just what would the bishop say about that?

Oh, she just didn’t know how to make any of her plans work anymore. But as Hen sat down on Mattie Sue’s bed, she knew one thing for sure: She absolutely refused to take her daughter back to an English life. They were not going back to Egypt, so to speak. And she was not handing precious Mattie Sue over to the world without a fight of her own.

Rose was surprised when Hen announced she wouldn’t be coming for supper but asked if Mattie Sue might eat with them again. Her sister’s face looked nearly beet red, like she was ill with a fever. “You all right, Hen?”

“No, I’m not . . . and please don’t ask anything more.” She turned to leave by way of the back door.

“Mommy’s upset—
bees
,” Mattie Sue told Beth where she sat in the corner of the kitchen writing in her blue notebook. “That’s Pennsylvania Dutch, ya know.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Beth looked up as Mattie Sue sat down near her at the table.

“I don’t know.” Mattie began to cry. She put her little head down on her arms and leaned on the table, sobbing.

Well, what the world?
Rose rushed to her side at the bench and put her arm around her niece. “Honey . . . honey,” she said, patting Mattie’s back.

Meanwhile, Mammi Sylvia stepped into the kitchen, coming from Mamm’s bedroom nearby. “Beth, will you go and read some of your poetry to Emma? She’s askin’ for you.”

“Prayers that rhyme,” Beth said when Rose caught her eye. Beth closed her notebook and got up quickly to go in and see Mamm.

Mammi Sylvia’s eyes grew serious. “Your mother also wants to see you, Rose Ann . . . and Hen, if she’s around.”

Rose’s heart fell. “Is she . . . ?”

Mammi shook her head. “She’s not
gut
at all. Her spirits are as low as I’ve ever seen them.” She looked tenderly at Mattie Sue. “I’d be happy to take over for ya here.”

Rose kissed Mattie’s cheek and went to wait at the door for Beth to exit Mamm’s bedroom. She could hear Beth reading the sweetest poem-like prayer. Tears welled up, and Rose wished Hen was here now and not off wherever she’d gone.
Most likely to see Brandon,
she thought with concern.

Truth was, her sister hadn’t looked so good. And she’d been curt, too, much like the way she’d been back when she and Brandon were secretly dating.

Comfort and guide my sister, dear Lord. And be ever near to Mamm, too.

Rose wiped away her tears and put on a smile for her ailing mother, hoping to cheer her with her presence, just as Beth surely was now.

Hen didn’t bother to wait for the front door to open after she rang the doorbell. This was her house, too, so she turned the doorknob and walked right in. Terry had obviously taken leave of the place. The kitchen looked like someone had left all the windows open during a windstorm, and food was standing out on the counters. The dishwasher gaped wide and the table was speckled with crumbs and dribbles of coffee.

She hated the thought of looking downstairs in the family room, where Brandon liked to sit in front of the tube and eat snacks.
Now that I’m gone, he’s probably camping out there.