The Judgment (24 page)

The occasional gusts were chilling as Rose and Leah walked down the road toward the old Amish cemetery. Black crows flew low overhead, and from the distance came the howl of a dog. A long strand of Leah’s brown hair had come loose on one side, flapping against her black outer bonnet. Rose wondered how her own hair looked now . . . and when Nick had seen her. Had she looked as disheveled as the times they’d gone riding together? The thought gave her a hankering to go and get Pepper from the bishop’s stable and take him out riding, maybe tonight. A gallop in the brisk air might help set her straight—brush the cobwebs of Nick Franco out of her head.

Rose breathed deeply, glad she’d worn layers beneath her woolen shawl, just as Leah had, having borrowed an extra sweater from the wooden kitchen pegs.

As they went, Leah began to talk about Christian, recalling him so fondly Rose tried not to cry. “Was it hard for you, seein’ Nick today?” Rose asked somewhat tentatively as they skirted the shoulder of the road.

“Oh, something awful.” Leah’s breath hung in the frigid air. She looked askance at Rose. “Let me be plainspoken with you: Nick just isn’t for you, Rose—but surely ya know that.”

Rose was astonished. So was this why Leah had asked her to go to the cemetery—to speak her mind?

“The People are concerned, after what happened to Christian and all. ’Tween me and you, surely you won’t be takin’ up with him again. ’Specially now that he’s looking so awful fancy.”

Rose spouted before thinking, “Philly’s a long way from here, ain’t so?”

“But I’m worried, Rose.” Leah looked at her skeptically and shook her head as the black strings on her candlesnuffer bonnet blew over her shoulders. “I saw how happy Nick was to see ya. And you looked mighty pleased, too.”

Rose couldn’t deny that. But for Leah to try to lessen the memory of that for her made Rose feel even more defensive.

“There’s more,” said Leah. “I don’t mean to alarm you or worry you, though.”

Rose clenched her toes in her shoes. “May as well tell me everything,” she said, resigned to whatever might come.

“Christian knew something about Nick that would keep him from ever joining church,” Leah said.

Rose’s interest was sparked, given that Christian had been so anxious to talk to her that one afternoon . . . and then died before she had the chance to hear what was on his mind. Had he shared
that
with Leah?

“It was the reason they went riding that terrible day . . . so Christian could try ’n’ get Nick to give up his plan.”

Rose cringed. “What plan?”

“Nick was getting his GED on the sly.”

Rose was stunned. “Was Christian sure?”

“Oh, absolutely. He thought you should know, since higher education would seal Nick’s fate—as being outside the Amish community, I mean.”

Rose felt sad and didn’t know what to say.

“Would you have continued your friendship with him if you’d known?”

“What’re you askin’?”

Leah looked chagrined. “I mean, would you have been so happy to see him today, for instance?”

“If I’d known he was working toward something considered worldly?”

Leah nodded. “Precisely.”

Rose couldn’t answer that. She’d never held high hopes for Nick’s becoming a baptized church member, come to think of it. Secretly, though, she’d wished he might . . . but that was long ago.

Leah continued as they turned into the path leading to the cemetery. “Christian really wanted you to know. I guess he thought Nick was sweet on ya.”

Rose felt strange knowing the pair had talked about her. She told Leah she’d encountered Christian on the road, “a day before he died.” She paused a moment. “It was peculiar, really. He was running alongside my horse and buggy. But I was so busy to get home, I disregarded his request to stop and talk. I’ve been kickin’ myself ever since.”

“That was prob’ly it, then. Christian said it weighed heavy on his mind . . . that it just wasn’t right for you not to know.”

Rose sighed. “Well, did Christian ever tell you flat-out what he thought about Nick’s and my friendship?”

“Only that he thought you must be the dearest girl.”

Rose didn’t understand.

“To put up with the likes of Nick,” added Leah.

Rose wouldn’t say what she was thinking. The fact was, if folk had given Nick a chance—given him the time of day—they would’ve known how gentle he really was. Had she and Barbara been the only ones to see that?

Nick had good traits—so once had Christian. She walked with Leah solemnly through the rows of small white tombstones, all alike. Leah’s forthright remarks made it seem as though Christian had somehow spoken a warning from the grave.

She stood next to Leah as they stared down at the still-fresh plot where the bishop’s son’s hand-built coffin had been lowered and buried weeks ago. Christian may have fought for pecking-order rights with Nick those many years, but he’d always been kind to Rose.

He cared enough to try to tell me of Nick’s worldly ambitions.

Rose felt awful about ignoring Christian’s plea to talk to her that day. She also considered what she knew now of Nick. Drawing a deep breath, she felt as though something precious was dying in her . . . and she was helpless to revive it.

After supper that evening, Dat remained seated at the head of the table while Rose washed and dried the dishes. It was a rare occasion when her father stayed put following a meal. Usually he headed right back out to the barn or his woodshop for a couple hours before time for devotions. “Is something on your mind?” She glanced over her shoulder and stacked the clean plates into the cupboard.

“I have a confession to make.” He shifted in his chair and turned to look at her. His cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the cookstove. “I’m very concerned that you make a wise choice in marriage.”

Rose couldn’t help but wonder if Hen’s marital troubles were plaguing his mind. How could they not be?

She stopped drying the handful of utensils, unsure what to expect.

“I hardly know how to tell ya, Rosie. But I feel you should know.”

“Know what, Dat?”

She recalled his stern warning about staying away from the likes of the bishop’s foster son. Had he heard of her encounter with Nick? But how could that be? It was just this morning.

“Reuben Good told me some time ago he’d move heaven and earth to have Silas stay in the area to find a wife.” Dat drew a long breath.

“He told ya that?” Rose let out a sigh. Nick was
not
the topic. Yet what was this talk of Silas? It was hard to believe, but because Dat and Reuben were good friends, this shouldn’t come as too big a surprise.

Dat seemed reluctant to go on. “He told me he was beginning to worry . . . downright discouraged at the thought of Silas thinkin’ about an out-of-state girl.”

Silas’s father knew about his interest in Rebekah?
Rose was flabbergasted.

“So once your grandfather recovered from his stroke, Reuben and I talked about how Silas and you would make a fine match.” He paused. “Not that we were forcing the issue . . . seein’ as how a young man’s choice in a bride is a personal thing.” He smiled briefly. “Still, I encouraged Reuben to have Silas seek you out once again. Evidently he knew his son had been seeing you some earlier in the year.”

So does Silas care for two of us?
Rose was bewildered.

“Reuben decided to turn the farm over to Silas sooner than planned if he married a local girl.”

This revelation shocked her—she wished Dat hadn’t told her. But then, contemplating it further, she realized she’d much rather know. Wouldn’t she?

Rose couldn’t utter a word.
Silas didn’t have the courage to tell me everything. But then again, why would he fess up to this?

She shook her head. Since when did a man steer his son in the direction of a wife—even dangle the carrot of a lucrative dairy farm to influence his choice?

Dat continued. “I’m sure Silas cares for ya. He wouldn’t be courting you if he didn’t.”

Rose was beginning to understand how her sister could say she doubted she’d ever feel all right again. At last, Rose knew the whole truth about why she, and not Rebekah, was Silas’s intended.

Her hands trembled as she finished drying the rest of the utensils and, lastly, the pots and pans. Her mind was in a whirl at her father’s startling words.
Does his father’s farm mean everything to Silas? Or does he truly care for me?

Chapter 24

F
or old time’s sake, Rose waited till after nightfall before she slipped over to the bishop’s stable. She quietly freed Pepper, offering him a sugar cube, then led him down the lane and out to Salem Road, recalling the summer wind in her hair and the sound of the horse’s hooves on the pavement.

They trotted past the little Amish schoolhouse and the cemetery before heading over to the next road, cautiously staying on the far right shoulder, in case cars should come their way.

Rose Ann rode for all the past memories of Nick, still much too raw . . . yet dear. Glad as she was to know he was helping at the shelter, in light of the news Leah had told of his hankering for a GED, Rose was beginning to think she’d been rather mistaken about Nick. It seemed he’d always planned to leave the People—with or without her.

And, too, she struggled with a rising concern about Silas and the genuineness of his affections. She urged Pepper even faster, galloping the horse. Had her beau honestly needed a nudge from his father to court her? It felt as if Reuben had bribed his son to keep him from pursuing Rebekah.

Would I be engaged to Silas now if it weren’t for Reuben Good?

“What part did love play in any of this?” she muttered aloud. She talked out her sadness and fears to the wind . . . and to Pepper. It was impossible to think she hadn’t known Nick as well as she thought. Nor did she seem to know her own fiancé very well.

To think Silas could be manipulated in such a way!

Sorrowfully, Rose called out to the black night sky, wishing for all the world Nick’s knowing eyes weren’t still before her, probing her face . . . her broken heart. Had he looked into her soul today, sensing her desire to linger and talk? Did he suspect how much she’d resented Mandy Esh’s calling her away?

All that aside, I’m engaged to Silas.

With the day’s encounter burning in her mind, Rose took Nick’s horse deep into the night, riding him as fast as Nick ever had, pondering and praying as she went.

Hen felt forlorn on Friday and considered canceling her free consultation with the Lancaster attorney. She’d picked the name at random from the Yellow Pages based on the headline:
Divorce and Family Law—know your rights, protect your children.

There was only one reason she would emerge from her comfort zone and drive to town, despite her father’s furrowed brow—assuming he guessed where she was going—to talk to a stranger about her failing marriage. It was all for Mattie Sue, to preserve her innocence and Hen’s desperate hope of continuing Mattie’s Plain upbringing. For no other reason would she cause Brandon further strife. Nor herself . . .