The Judgment (21 page)

Glad Terry was most likely gone, Hen wished Brandon would appear. Surely he hadn’t left the front door unlocked. It wasn’t like living with the Amish, where doors were never locked.

Amishville,
she thought, chagrined. “If that’s what he thinks . . .” she muttered as she made her way through the house, heading for the bedroom.

She heard the shower running and thought it best to wait to spring her surprise on him once he was out and dressed. Going to Mattie’s former bedroom, she sat on the twin bed and rehearsed what she planned to tell her husband.
No backing down!

Lying on the bed, she closed her eyes and pictured going to the lawyer’s office—
her
lawyer. She would get the best attorney in all of Lancaster, too. It was her best hope for getting custody of Mattie Sue. There was no fooling around with a man like Brandon.

Hen’s emotional exhaustion overtook her and she dozed off momentarily in Mattie Sue’s cozy bed. She dreamed she was waiting on pins and needles for word from Brandon’s hotshot lawyer, hoping the powers that be wouldn’t take Mattie Sue away from her. The dream became murky as she heard the sound of footsteps, which she soon realized, as she awakened in a haze, were not in her dream at all.

When she opened her eyes, there was Brandon standing over her, towel drying his hair. “Wha—? I guess I fell asleep.”

“Well, hello to you, too,” he said. “Do you ever call ahead? Oh, that’s right—you don’t have a house phone over in farmers’ town.”

“Brandon,” Hen said, sitting up. “I came by to tell you I’m getting representation.”

“Oh really?” He eyed her. “Guess you’ll have to use my phone to make the call, right? Of course, you’ll be lucky to find a law office that’s open on a Saturday.”

She shrugged off his comment. “Dad said you basically laughed at my requirements . . . for my return home.”

“You bet I did!” He turned to leave, then stopped in the doorway. Facing her, he added, “I’m putting the house on the market, too. Mattie and I will make do with something smaller.”

Mattie and I . . .

“Maybe we’ll move closer to my parents in New York.”

The blood drained from her face and she felt faint. Breathing slowly, purposefully, Hen shook her head. “How can you be so sure you’ll get custody?”

“Because, my dear wife, you are out of touch with reality. You live in Amishland . . . remember? You prefer horses and buggies to modern transportation, and you dress like a . . .” He paused to eyeball her outfit. “Like something out of the Salem Witch trials.”

She felt like crying as Brandon marched out of the room.

Angry enough to raise her voice at him, Hen bit her tongue and headed to the kitchen to look for an attorney’s office to call.
Might as well use his phone book,
she thought, shaking with fury.
I can’t afford to lose any more time.

Chapter 20

R
ose saw Hen drive into the lane and park behind the barn
that evening after an early supper. Hen’s face looked puffy and red as she walked toward the house. Rose rushed out to meet her. “You all right, sister?”

Hen leaned her head on Rose’s shoulder as they embraced. “I doubt I’ll ever be right again,” she whispered. “I honestly don’t see how . . .”

Rose felt hesitant to tell Hen how very anxious Mamm was now. The recent scare with the new pain medication had left her more desperate for her future than usual.
Hen has so much to think about, let alone adding Mamm, too.

But Rose couldn’t just hope Mamm would pull out of her murky depression—she had to let Hen know their mother’s situation. So she forged ahead, holding Hen’s hand as they walked slowly toward the house. “Mamm’s askin’ to see you, Hen,” she said softly. “She needs the comfort of her oldest daughter . . . and your prayers, too.”

It was nearly eight o’clock when Hen left her mother’s sickbed. She felt sad that she’d been away when Mamm had initially called for her—sad, too, that in her present state there was little she could do to encourage her mother. She walked back to her Dawdi Haus, where she encouraged Mattie Sue to get ready for bed, all the while praying silently for her mom.
If she can have occasional good days . . . is it possible for her to feel better more often than not, dear Lord?

Sometime later, while reading her Bible, Hen heard footsteps on the porch and looked up to see Brandon standing at the back door. “Goodness, what’s
he
doing here?” she whispered, startled.

Without giving it a second thought, she hurried to let him in. “Brandon?”

He frowned when she opened the door. “I’m taking Mattie Sue home.”

Hen trembled. “But . . . she’s already in her nightclothes.”

“Nightclothes, Hen? C’mon . . . that’s so archaic.”

Hen ignored his ridicule. “She’s going to sleep now.”

“I don’t care. Get her up!” He stood with his arms folded. “Pack her
normal
clothes—and make it quick.”

“Brandon . . .
please
.” Hen felt the air being sucked out of her. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m entitled to equal time with my daughter.” He turned, disregarding her plea. Going toward the stairs, he called up. “Mattie Sue, come down here, please.”

A staccato of small footsteps followed, then Mattie Sue’s happy voice. “Daddy . . . you surprised me!”

Brandon glanced at Hen with a scowl. “What are you waiting for?”

“But—”

“You heard me. Get her things ready.”

Mattie jumped into his arms. “Did ya bring Wiggles to visit me, too?”

“No, honey,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Wiggles is waiting for you at our house.”

Mattie’s eyes locked with Hen’s and she blinked several times in a row. “I don’t want to wear my nightgown outside, Daddy.”

“That’s all right,” he said, putting her down. “Just put your coat on over the top.”

Hen assumed Mattie was simply going to run back upstairs and hide, but she darted out the back door instead, running out into the cold, damp night barefooted and wearing only her white cotton nightgown.

Brandon rushed to the door and looked out, huffing air. Hen hoped he wouldn’t take off running after Mattie Sue. He turned and glared at Hen. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to our daughter keeping her locked up like this?”

“You are welcome to spend time with Mattie here whenever you wish,” Hen replied, struggling to keep her tone even. “Mattie Sue loves everything about the farm. She helps my dad and Rose feed the animals, goes exploring in the meadows, and even makes goat cheese. She’s learning to sew and quilt and bake . . . and she enjoys playing with the bishop’s grandchildren.”

At the mention of the bishop, Brandon winced. “Don’t get me started!” He glanced out into the night again. “Call Mattie back into the house, Hen. Now!”

Jolted by his harshness, she moved to the door and waited for him to move away. But just as she opened it, her father was standing there, as if a godsend.

Brandon ran his hands through his hair as though in sheer desperation. He went to the window near the sink and looked out. “Mattie’s going to freeze out there,” he muttered.

“What’s goin’ on?” Dad asked.

“I came for my daughter,” Brandon answered, turning away from the window. “But she seems to have run away.”

“Well, what’s that tell ya, son?”

Hen was so relieved her father had come, she went to sit at the table, entrusting the seeming nightmare to him. And to God.

Dad motioned for Brandon to sit at the table and pulled out a chair for himself to join Hen there. “Seems to me there’s something wrong with taking a little girl from her Mamma.” He looked at Hen.

Though obviously seething, Brandon was suddenly silent.

Dad studied them both. “So, now that I’ve got ya both in the same room, what can be done to put a stop to this talk of divorce? Ain’t at all pleasin’ to the Lord God, no way and no how.”

Brandon sighed heavily, leaning back with his hands linked behind his head. He stared at Hen, then turned to Sol. “Do
you
have any influence over your daughter?”

“I’m her father.”

“And I’m her husband, but you can see where that’s gotten me.”

“Did ya ever think there might be something each of you can surrender? I mean to save your marriage. Something Hen wants that you’re not willing to give her quite yet. And vice versa.”

Brandon’s expression turned incredulous. “You should’ve been a marriage counselor, Mr. Kauffman.” He paused and glanced at his watch. “Why not practice on Hen instead of me?”

She’d never heard a man speak so rudely to her father. And she was growing increasingly worried that Mattie Sue would catch her death of cold outside. Maybe her daughter had made her way over to the main house. Hen hoped and prayed that was so.

“My wife knows exactly what she has to do to patch things up,” Brandon spouted.

“I see.”

Brandon shrugged. “For starters, tell her to practice her Amish upbringing.”

“So you
do
want her to act more Amish, then?”

Brandon sputtered, apparently caught off guard. He glanced at Hen. “Well, she could listen to her husband, for one thing.”

“If you were a God-fearing man, I’d have to agree with that.” Dad stared at Brandon, and Hen felt terribly uncomfortable. “Meanwhile, till that happens, I suggest you take yourself on home and leave my granddaughter be to say her bedtime prayers.”

Standing up, Brandon looked anything but whipped. He shot a look of defiance at Hen. “Better get that lawyer lined up. I’ll see you in court.” With that, he paused, staring at her clothes. “And if I never have to see you wearing such a dowdy dress again, Hen . . . well, it’ll be too soon.”

Hen waited till Brandon left the house, then fell into her father’s arms, thanking him again and again. “The Lord must’ve sent you over here, Dad.”

“Jah, the Lord and Rosie,” he replied. “Your sister spotted the car and was concerned for you. Now, let’s find out where that clever daughter of yours ran off to.”

“Oh, poor Mattie Sue . . .” Hen walked with her father to the back door.

“What’s this ’bout getting yourself a lawyer?” he asked solemnly.

She wasn’t surprised he’d bring that up. “I don’t want to lose my daughter. I’ve decided to fight for her in court.”

Her father eyed her, visibly concerned. “Well, now, are ya trusting in yourself, or in our sovereign Lord?”

Immediately, Hen felt convicted. There was nothing she could say that would change Dad’s mind. Yet wasn’t she responsible under God to do everything in her power to keep her child far from the world?
Just as Dad tried to keep me in the community of the People
 . . .
before I eloped.

Chapter 21

S
unday morning, after the breakfast dishes were rinsed and stacked to be washed, Rose heard a knock at the back door. She moved quickly to see who was there, since English neighbors were the only ones who typically ever knocked.

Sure enough, it was Donna Becker—a bright picture to behold in her long red coat and matching gloves. But Rose’s heart sank, because Donna looked quite solemn for such a sunny day. “Excuse my loud colors,” Donna whispered. “It’s my warmest coat.”

“ ’ Tis all right.” Rose held her breath; she guessed why Donna had come. “Perhaps we should talk out here . . . on the porch.” Beth and Mattie Sue were somewhere inside the house, playing together.

“Beth’s grandfather passed away in the night,” said Donna. “Gilbert called just a while ago.”

“How very sad for Mr. Browning . . . and Beth.” Rose touched the top of Donna’s gloved hand.

“It might be good if you’re the one to tell her,” Donna suggested with a faint smile. “You know Beth better than I do.”

“Jah,
gut
idea.” Rose glanced toward the kitchen, wondering if Mammi Sylvia was still sitting with Mamm. “Will Mr. Browning return for Beth . . . to take her to the funeral?”

“I asked the same thing, and evidently Beth does not do well in large gatherings. Besides, it’s a long ways for Gilbert to come for her.”

“Understandable,” Rose whispered.

“So he’ll stay on for at least another few days, if not a week. He said he’d call again after the funeral and let us know when he plans to return.”

Rose nodded. “When he does, please let him know Beth’s doin’ fine here. Tell him to take his time.” She just couldn’t imagine the man’s grief . . . losing first his wife and now his father, too.

“I got the feeling his mother will need a bit of looking after. His father had been doing so for some time, as I understand it.”

Rose had heard the same. “How sad the dear woman is ailing so and is now a widow, too.” She thought suddenly of Mamm. “Would ya like to come in and have some hot tea or cocoa?”

“No, no . . . just wanted to drop by and let you know the latest news.” Donna sighed and gave a small smile. “Bless you for taking care of Beth.”

“No trouble at all.”

“I’m happy to help out, if necessary.”

“Denki.” Rose smiled and nodded her head. “And, Donna, rest assured I’ll break this to Beth very gently.”