The Judgment (26 page)

The next day was Saturday, a day Solomon typically worked extra hard, knowing the Lord’s Day was to be kept holy, a quieter yet cheerful day. Today, however, found Sol and the bishop, who remained reluctant to confront Nick, up early and leaving for Philadelphia. Though still dejected, Emma seemed a bit stronger again physically, and Sylvia had offered to look after her, so Sol felt comfortable going for only a few hours.

The day was bright with sun but bitter cold, and Bishop Aaron remarked how there hadn’t been a speck of snow yet this month. The bare maples and oaks were dark silhouettes against the brown pastureland just outside Bart. The horses stood in each other’s shadows, and Sol imagined what those same fields had looked like blanketed in snow last winter at this time.

Soon the van was entering the ramp and merging onto the highway leading to Philly. He assumed it was the same route Rose and her women friends had taken recently. The traffic was horrific and made Sol yearn for the quiet of the countryside.
First things first,
he thought, talking in Pennsylvania Dutch to his neighbor and friend, who was quite restless, fidgeting with his hands. Even his feet were going. “We’ll just see Nick for a few minutes, and let things unfold from there,” Sol advised.

“In case you’ve forgotten, Nick won’t want to be cornered about anything,” Bishop replied.

“No, but he might find comfort in knowin’ you’re eager to see him . . . considering everything.” Sol hoped that would be true.

At last, they located the shelter and found the director, Mrs. Schaeffer, who greeted them warmly. “It’s a delight to have you here today. Some lovely Amishwomen from your area recently brought the prettiest quilts I’ve ever seen.” Sol mentioned his daughter had been with them, careful not to sound boastful, considering the way Mrs. Schaeffer was so effusive about the wonderful handiwork.

After she offered them some soda pop, Sol inquired after Nick Franco.

The woman’s eyes brightened. “Oh, Nick . . . he’s no longer here, but he’s been one of my best volunteers, more than ready to help wherever he could. And all for the sake of people who’ve lost everything, wandering the streets without knowing where their next meal might come from,” Mrs. Schaeffer explained. “Our Nick has a real heart for the needy.”

Our Nick . . .

Though Rose had mentioned a little of this to him, Sol was astonished at this picture of a young man so unlike the one they’d known. But when Mrs. Schaeffer went on to say that Nick had talked of possibly enrolling in a community college somewhere, the bishop’s face immediately fell.

They thanked the woman kindly and made their way outside to hail the driver and to head home. On the ride back, the two men talked quietly, lest the driver overhear their concerns.

Sol tried to soften the blow of a college-bound Nick by pointing out that perhaps some of the important things Aaron had taught Nick had, in fact, stuck. “Though as far as helpin’ at the shelter goes, who knows what Nick was really thinking,” Sol said as an afterthought. “It might’ve seemed like penance for whatever went on with Christian, ya know.”

Slowly, the bishop nodded. “I wondered that, too.”

“Emma’s said in the past that Barbara thought Nick had a soft spot for children and older folk. Maybe he also had a caring side toward those less fortunate.”

“Could be,” said Aaron, clearly deep in thought.

The closer they got to Salem Road, the more Sol presumed the chances of getting Nick to return home and join the church were slim to nothing—not if he was bent on enrolling in college, as Mrs. Schaeffer had said. No, once an Amishman got a taste of higher education, it was pretty much over as far as ever again getting his attention for God and the church.

Hen felt compelled to get the afternoon mail before Rose did. Intending to take Mamm’s circle letters to her, as those usually arrived on Saturday, Hen was shocked to see a letter with Brandon’s return address on the envelope.

Not waiting until she was inside, she opened it quickly.

Dear Hannah,

I’ve finished up the paperwork to get our divorce and the custody complaint under way. Unless you’ve acquired your own lawyer, you will be expected to come to my brother Lawrence’s office to fill out financial information and meet with the psychologist next Friday, December 20. Dr. Greta Schmidt has been assigned to evaluate both of us, beginning with you. She will also assess Mattie Sue to determine the best custodial arrangement for our daughter, since this has become an obvious and irresolvable conflict.

Sincerely,

Brandon

Dismayed, Hen stumbled back to the Dawdi Haus, putting off delivering the two circle letters for Mamm until she could pull herself together.

So Brandon had meant what he said, moving ahead just as he’d threatened and asking his brother Lawrence to handle the legal matters. And even though she had guessed at what he would do, the reality didn’t hurt any less.

Indoors, she kissed Mattie Sue’s sweet head, and commented on the pretty coloring page of butterflies she was filling in at the kitchen table. Her daughter’s toy puppy, Foofie, sat next to the box of crayons. “I can’t wait to see your picture when you’re all done, honey.”

“Do ya like it, Mommy?”

“Very much.”

Mattie Sue looked up at her. “I’ll color another page for Daddy, too. Okay?”

“That’s very nice of you.” Her tongue felt frozen, but she managed to say she was going upstairs for a little while.

Lost in her art, Mattie Sue nodded and continued coloring.

In her room, Hen tried to read the letter again, struggling to see the words for her tears.

Custody complaint?

The words pointed fingers, accusing her of being an unfit mother. Perhaps that was precisely what Brandon was hoping to prove. But how? He knew that she was anything but unloving or unfit. Just because she embraced a simple lifestyle, did that make her incapable in his eyes? Did he really think he could rip Mattie Sue away from her because she wanted to live a Plain and peaceful life, one pleasing to God?

“Will the powers that be rule in Brandon’s favor?” Hen carried the letter to her dresser and slipped it into the drawer as fear took hold of her. “Next Friday . . . just five days before Christmas,” she whispered. “What would happen if I just didn’t show up?”

Before Rose served the supper of pork chops and scalloped potatoes that evening, Dat came in to wash his hands at the sink, looking repeatedly at her.
Something’s on his mind,
she thought. Moving away from the table, where she had been setting out the utensils, she went to the kitchen counter. Was it about Nick?

She had seen Dat and the bishop get into a van together early this morning. They had been away for several hours, so she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d gone to Philly.

Dat turned his attention back to lathering his hands, and when he said nothing at all, Rose awkwardly resumed her work preparing for supper. Leah’s words spun round in her head, but she dismissed them, knowing she dared not ask Dat about that.

All through the meal, it seemed peculiar how her father occasionally looked her way but said nothing. Apparently he was thinking about something important.

Did the bishop
talk Nick into returning?
Rose wondered, worried and hopeful both.

That night, in the wee hours, Rose was awakened by the sound of sniffling. When she opened her eyes, she saw Beth kneeling beside the bed, praying. Rose groggily got up and went around the bed to Beth, whose short hair fell forward in the darkness of the room, hiding her face. “Beth, honey . . . what is it?” Rose knelt next to her. “Are you thinking ’bout your grandpa?”

Beth shook her head, then sighed softly. “I had another dream,” she said between breaths. “Oh, Rosie, it was so real . . . like I was right there. I could see everything so clearly.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Not just yet.”

“Did you dream about someone we both know?”

Beth nodded. “Your mother.” She paused. “But I want to write down everything I remember in my notebook.”

“Tomorrow?”

Beth agreed. “You can read it if you want.”

Concerned as she felt, Rose did not press further, uncertain how Beth might react. Still, she couldn’t help but recall what Beth had once told her—that sometimes her dreams about people dying came true.

Rose put her arm around Beth as they prayed silently together. She comforted the young woman and wished for someone to comfort
her
in that moment. Beth’s slender shoulders moved with her quiet whimpers, and it touched Rose deeply that she cared so much for Mamm. She’d never witnessed such a close connection in someone who wasn’t kin.

After a time, she helped Beth back to bed. When Beth was settled again, Rose crept downstairs and stood at the back door, gazing out at the sky, alight with stars. There, she whispered the question that now weighed so heavily on her heart: “O Lord, are you preparing us for Mamm’s heavenly Homegoing . . . at Christmas?”

Chapter 26

T
he first snowfall of the season came like fine white dust that Lord’s Day morning, drifting drowsily from a gray sky. There was not the slightest hint of wind, and Rose felt almost as if she were floating upward from her vantage point at the bedroom window. The strange sensation lasted but a moment, just until she looked away to regain her equilibrium.

Rose had awakened to muffled crying as it seeped through the wall from the attached Dawdi Haus. At first, the sound startled her, because she’d thought she was dreaming, but sadly, she was not. Hen had been sobbing her heart out, and Rose could only assume what might be causing her dear sister such heartache.
Must be Brandon. What else could it be?

As it turned out, Hen didn’t come over for breakfast before Preaching service, nor did she stop in to see Mamm after Hen and the family returned, following the common meal. Rose spent the entire afternoon reading aloud from the New Testament while her mother flitted back and forth between sleep and wakefulness.

Dat had spent an hour away from Mamm, over at the bishop’s house talking with Deacon Esh and the two preachers from their church district. Rose had seen the men arrive, their driving horses familiar to her. Because of the sudden meeting, she prayed that whatever was happening there might above all benefit their wonderful-good bishop.

Before it was time to prepare a light supper, Mammi Sylvia and Dawdi Jeremiah came over to sit with Mamm. Mattie Sue wandered over from next door, too, asking for Beth, who was still upstairs resting.

“Is she sick?” her niece asked.

“No, honey . . . just napping.” Rose didn’t explain that Beth had been awake for a while in the night due to a vivid dream.