The Judgment (36 page)

“My family does love sweets,” she agreed, letting him lean on her arm as he moved toward his bed.

Hen fetched Brandon an extra quilt in case he was chilled. She suspected Dad was assisting Mom to a nap about now, as well. Brandon sat on the bed in the spare room, looking forlorn. A single tear rolled down his cheek and he brushed it away, turning toward the wall.

“Brandon, hon . . . it’s all right. You’ve been through the wringer. Of course you’re feeling lousy.”

“I don’t want sympathy.” His voice was soft, not accusing.

She stepped back, away from the bed. “Okay, then, I’ll leave you be.”

Brandon leaned back slowly, cautious of his fractured ribs and arm. “If only I could see, I think I could manage the rest of this nightmare.” He groaned as he lowered his head onto the pillow. “I really need to return to work in a couple of days.”

In due time,
Hen thought, trusting God for Brandon’s healing. Oh, she truly wished she could do something more to ease his pain, but she’d already given him the prescribed dose of pain medication for now. The doctor had warned him not to take more so as to prevent his becoming addicted to the very thing that could bring him momentary comfort.

Hen returned to the main house to help with clearing the table and doing up the mountains of dishes, thankful for some time with her sisters-in-law and Rose Ann. They talked together in the front room as the children played games, and then joined in singing a few carols.

Later, Hen slipped in to see her mother, who was lying on her daybed, looking at the ceiling. Hen went over and kissed her on the cheek. “A blessed Christmas to you, Mom,” she whispered. “Not long now until you see the specialist.”

Mom’s eyes sparkled. “I’m holdin’ on as best I can.”

“Is there anything I can do for you before I return to Brandon?”

“No, dear girl.” Mom shook her head slowly. “You just take care of that husband of yours. First things first, jah?”

Hen patted her hand. “I’ll see you this evening at suppertime.” Then Hen had an idea. “There are oodles of leftovers from dinner. Would you like to invite the Brownings over for supper tonight?”

“Oh, could we?” Mom’s eyebrows rose. “That’d be awful nice.”

Hen realized once more how much Beth’s compassionate attention had endeared her to Mom. “I’ll see what Rose or I can do.” With that, Hen pulled up the soft crocheted afghan to cover her. “Try to rest now.”

Nodding, Mom closed her eyes, a contented look on her sweet face.

I’ll ask Mose to stop by Brownings’,
she thought. Mose didn’t like to sit in one place for very long and was probably already itching to be outside again. Hen went to find him, feeling excited about trying to make the heartfelt wish come true for her mother on this most joyful of days.

Chapter 36

A
fter Brandon’s rest, Hen and Mattie Sue brought out all
the beautiful squares for the bed quilt Hen was in the process of making for Mattie. They sat together in the little front room, describing the design, as well as the colors for the Double Nine Patch quilt design. With his fingers, Brandon examined the difference between the interior and outline stitches.

When the squares were neatly put away again, Mattie Sue had the idea to let her daddy smell the various berry jams Hen had canned. “Can ya guess what flavor this is?” Mattie Sue said as she sat on his lap, holding one small spoonful after another up to his nose.

Hen thought Brandon’s expression seemed softer . . . but then, it was Christmas Day. She hoped he wasn’t merely tolerating Mattie’s and her attempts to entertain him and make him feel like a part of their lives.

Soon Mattie gave him the paper chain she’d made, placing it in his left hand. He seemed pleased as he felt each one of the loops. He kissed Mattie’s cheek and thanked her, promising to buy a belated Christmas present for her after he felt better, then donned the chain around his neck as a sort of paper scarf. Mattie Sue giggled and offered to take him outside to help feed the baby goats.

Brandon shook his head. “I’ve had enough for one day,” he said somewhat brusquely, more to Hen than to Mattie Sue. “Don’t feel bad, Mattie Sue, all right?” His tone was kind again as he spoke to her. “I just need to sit here and rest.”

“Okay, Daddy. Maybe tomorrow, then?” Mattie Sue went to the stool beneath the wooden pegs and got down her coat, scarf, and black outer bonnet.

After Mattie had gone outdoors to tag along with Dawdi in the barn, Hen told Brandon she was scheduled to work at the fabric shop tomorrow. “But I’ll be glad to take the day off to stay with you,” she offered.

“Tomorrow?” He looked helpless suddenly . . . even disappointed.

“I can call in first thing in the morning from the phone shanty to let Rachel know I’m not coming. She’d understand.”

“Would you, Hen?” he asked, relief flooding his voice.

“I certainly will.” Rather taken aback, Hen realized again how dependent Brandon was on her while he waited for his sight to be restored. Her husband had put his life on hold, and at least temporarily, he could not look farther ahead than a single day. The thought that Brandon needed her gave her hope.

Rose was thoroughly delighted when Beth and her father arrived at suppertime. All smiles, Beth sat beside Mamm during the meal consisting mostly of leftovers, though Beth and her father had brought along some fudge prettily wrapped in green cellophane to share. Beth made a point of saying that her father had helped her make it as a Christmas surprise for their neighbors and friends. “Especially for you, Mrs. Kauffman,” Beth said, turning toward her.

While they ate, Rose wondered whether the Brownings might soon pull up stakes to move to South Carolina to be near Mr. Browning’s widowed mother, as Beth had feared. But Mr. Browning spoke very little, though he seemed to enjoy their company—perhaps he’d chosen not to speak of it on such a happy day.

Meanwhile, Beth told Mamm she was counting the hours until her aunt Judith arrived, “sometime in January.” Mamm reached over and stroked the back of Beth’s head, smiling and nodding and treating her like one of her own daughters.

The evening ended on a blissful note when a group of Amish couples knocked on the back door and sang “Silent Night,” which moved Mamm to tears as she sat in her wheelchair near the woodstove.

As the voices rang out into the cold, moonlit night, Rose thought how much fun it would’ve been to carol around the neighborhood with this group . . . and her betrothed.

If Rebekah hadn’t come to town and spoiled everything
, she thought
.
Nonetheless, Rose knew the truth was more complicated than that. She and Silas had grown apart because each of their hearts was drawn to another.

After dark, Rose was very surprised when she saw Silas’s courting buggy pull partway into the driveway. She had been redding up the kitchen after yet another round of desserts with her parents, who had already retired to their room.

Not knowing what to think, she wrapped up in her warmest shawl and went outside to meet him. “Hullo, Silas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said with a quick nod. In his hands was a large green box with a silver bow, which he offered to her. “I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten to get you something, Rose Ann,” he said almost shyly.

“Oh, Silas . . . it’s nice of you.” She realized how cold it was and invited him inside. “You can warm up by the kitchen stove,” she said. “No one’s up just now.”

He agreed and followed her inside as she carried his gift, wondering what it could be. Then she remembered what she’d planned to do. Waiting till they’d pulled chairs up next to the cookstove, she turned to him. “I appreciate your present, Silas, but there’s something I’d like to say.”

A frown passed over his brow.

“I’ve been thinkin’ quite a lot lately,” she began. “About us—our engagement, I mean.”

He reached for her hand. “Rose Ann . . . what’re ya saying? Is it about what you said last time—about us maybe spending some time apart?”

“Jah, ’tis.” She paused, gathering strength. “I’ve seen how you look at Rebekah, Silas. And honestly, I believe you care more for her than you prob’ly realize.”

In the flickering light from the belly of the cookstove, he looked down at their entwined hands. A second or two passed before he spoke. “Rebekah’s coming was unexpected.” He looked at her, his gaze steady. “Truth is, I didn’t realize till lately that I still care for her.” He shifted a little in his seat. “But I don’t want to hurt you, Rose Ann. I’d never want to do that.”

She nodded; she’d anticipated that he’d be the dutiful beau. “That’s awful nice of you, Silas. But . . . really, it’s not reasonable for you to be engaged to me when Rebekah is the girl you truly love.”

He squeezed her hand, then released it. “You needn’t be so kind about this, Rose.” His voice was thick with emotion.

“Kindness has nothin’ to do with it.” Her heart hammered in her ears—never had she imagined speaking so freely to Silas about such things.

“Rose . . . I’ve asked you to marry me, and I am fully prepared to do so. Perhaps our affection will grow even more with time.”

Rose made no answer. She looked down at the beautifully wrapped box, and he urged her to open it. “There are two more boxes in the buggy yet,” he added.

She removed the bow and tore open the wrapping. Inside, she found delicate glassware with etched floral designs. Stemware for water or iced tea, just like Mamm had received from Dat years ago.

“Oh, Silas . . . these are just beautiful.” She lifted one of the glasses out gently to look at it more closely. She guessed by boxes he meant there were many more of the same outside in his courting carriage.

“It’s a set of twenty-four,” he told her, smiling. “For big family gatherings, ya know.”

She paused, looking at him. “And I have a gift for you, also.”

“No . . . no,” Silas protested. “Ain’t necessary.”

“It’s not what you think,” she said. “But it’s a gift all the same.”

His eyes registered bewilderment. “What do ya mean?”

“I’m releasing you from our engagement, Silas. I believe you and Rebekah are meant to be together.” She paused and offered him a small smile. “After all, a good marriage needs lots of love to help make it strong. I want that for you and Rebekah, just as I do for myself . . . someday.” Her voice trembled.

Silas looked surprised, but his relief was equally evident. “If you’re sure,” he said slowly, then offered to take her for a ride. “It’s Christmas, ain’t so?”

Her first thought was to decline, but then, seeing the gracious smile on his face, she accepted his invitation. As Silas helped her into the buggy, Rose thanked him and settled into his open carriage for the very last time.

A light snow began to fall, dusting them with soft white flakes. She felt sure it was a sign, if not Providence. “Joyous Christmas, Silas,” she said.

“And to you, too, Rose Ann.”

They rode quietly side by side, and Rose did not feel the slightest speck of sadness or regret. If anything, there was a tangible peace between them as they rode up Salem Road in the silvery moonlight.

Chapter 37