The Judgment (8 page)

One of Mattie Sue’s barn kitties ran across their path, and Solomon warned the Brownings not to trip. Then, when they rounded the corner and were near the back steps, Solomon called to Sylvia, his mother-in-law. He led the way into the back porch and the kitchen. “We’ve got us some company,” he said as Sylvia rose from her spot near Emma’s wheelchair. “Beth Browning’s going to stay with us for a while,” he added as Emma turned her head and gave a faint smile.

“
Kumme
right in and make yourselves to home.” Sylvia reached to take Beth’s bag, overflowing with teddy bears and cats.

“She’ll stay with Rose in her room,” said Solomon, taking his leave to carry the suitcase upstairs.

When he returned to the kitchen, Mr. Browning, whose eyes looked mighty tired, was talking softly to his daughter. “I put your medication in your suitcase, all right?” He handed a piece of paper with instructions on it to Solomon. “You’ll see that Rose gets this, won’t you?”

“Not a problem at all.”

“It’s very important.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “There’s a phone number where I can be reached, as well.” Gilbert Browning frowned and suddenly looked concerned. “Don’t hesitate to call,” he said, glancing at Sol. “For any reason at all.”

“Beth’ll be just fine here,” Sol assured him. He realized Mr. Browning had come a long way toward trusting them in a short time. It was hard to believe this was the same man who’d sequestered Beth away like Rose had described.

Sylvia stood near Emma’s wheelchair. “We’ll take extra
gut
care of her.”

“Denki for thinkin’ of us, Mr. Browning,” Emma said in her feeble voice, looking now at Beth.

“Thank
you—
all of you.” Mr. Browning smiled momentarily. Then he turned to kiss Beth on the cheek. “I love you, honey,” he said.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, too, Daddy. Tell Grandpa I’m praying for him.” She leaned her head against him.

“Don’t worry, now, Beth.” Tears sprang to Gilbert’s eyes, and he gave his daughter’s hand a little squeeze before heading for the back door. Solomon followed close behind, picking up the still-lit lantern on the porch so the kindly Englischer could safely make his way back to his car.

“Goodness gracious, we finally have a chance to talk!” said Rebekah, her brown eyes shining as she reached for Rose’s hand. They stood in the privacy of the stable area of the two-story bank barn, with several mules near. “With all that was goin’ on today at the wedding, I was hoping I’d get to say hullo to everyone present. Well, the folk who might remember me, at least.”

“Did ya get to see Esther, too?” asked Rose, smiling back. “The radiant bride?”

“Jah, and now, counting you, all of her cousins.” Rebekah beamed. “Ach, I thought I’d never get back here after we moved. Then, when Annie Mast’s mother wrote to Mamma, asking if I’d come to help with the new babies, well, I jumped at the chance.”

Rose noticed that Rebekah’s childhood dimples had deepened. “It’s awful nice of you. Annie must be glad you agreed.”

Rebekah nodded. “When Mamma got the letter, she only said it was from one of the Masts.”

“Oh, and you prob’ly had no idea which ones, ain’t?”

“That’s exactly right!”

They burst into laughter.

“So are you getting settled in at Annie’s place, then?” Rose asked.

“Took no time at all.” Rebekah went on to say she’d brought along very little, planning instead to sew some dresses and aprons fairly soon. “But once the babies come, it’ll be interesting to see how much sewin’ I get done, jah?”

Rose found Rebekah to be just as engaging and fun as she’d always been. She was truly sorry her family had ever moved away. “I’m sure there will be plenty of hours when the twins are sleeping,” Rose added. “Newborns tend to do that quite a lot the first few weeks.”

“Well, I’ll learn as I go. ’Tween you and me, I’ve only helped with infants a couple times.”

Rose found this tidbit interesting. Most all the mother’s helpers she knew had frequently assisted with newborns on up to preschool-age children.

“Mostly I’ve looked after toddlers.”

Rose laughed softly. “When they start walking, it’s harder to keep up with ’em.”

“Ain’t that right!” Rebekah told about her older sister’s two little ones. “I’m goin’ to miss them something awful while I’m here.”

“Mamm said you’ll be stayin’ on till spring.”

Rebekah brightened again. “As long as Annie needs me, I will. As for Noah Mast, bless his heart, he’s hopin’ I’ll find myself a nice fella here. Guess they want me to just come back to where I belong.”

Rose pondered that, wondering why Rebekah didn’t already have a serious beau back home. If she had, surely she wouldn’t have come. “Wouldn’t you miss your family if ya stayed?”

“Oh sure. But just maybe, if I settle down here, they’ll all return to Lancaster County someday.”

Rose wondered if the Bontragers really would be willing to move back after living this long in Indiana, where they had land to spare.

Just then, Silas walked into the barn. He immediately looked puzzled when he saw Rose talking to Rebekah. She decided to wait till he came over to talk to her and continued getting caught up on her friend’s activities, including Rebekah’s stint as a schoolteacher.

“I’d prob’ly still be teaching, but the school board decided to bring on an older woman for the one-room schoolhouse,” Rebekah said, still wearing her contagious smile. “A Mennonite teacher.”

“Is that so?”

“Interesting, ain’t? I’d say the church district we’re in out there is . . . different.”

“There are plenty of diverse church
Ordnungs
just a little ways north of here, too, ya know.”

“Well, where I’m from, we’re allowed to have bikes with inflatable tires, for instance.”

“Goodness, that’ll never happen here.”

“Can you just imagine?” Rebekah glanced toward the fellows all clustered together across the barn. Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “Though I heard through the grapevine, some months back, that one of your boys here had taken to card playin’.”

“Not Rook, but face cards?”

“I’m talking ’bout the wicked cards with kings and queens and whatnot. I doubt you’d be surprised if I told ya.”

Rose listened, curious to know what Rebekah might say.

Rebekah continued. “This same fella supposedly bought himself a pair of Rollerblades. The bishop’s wife found ’em in the haymow.”

Rose said nothing.

“And I heard he ran off, too,” added Rebekah.

Rose wondered how Rebekah knew so much about Nick. “I s’pose you also heard other things.”

“Jah, ’tis awful sad.” Rebekah touched the back of Rose’s hand. “Everything all right?”

Rose wasn’t about to say it was, because it just wasn’t. And she didn’t know when anything related to Nick would ever be.

She looked again for Silas and saw he was still clear across the barn. He had just taken off his black felt hat and was scratching his head. No doubt it was a signal for her to excuse herself and be available for him to wander over and talk with. After all, she’d spent nearly all her time so far with Rebekah.

“They want me to just come back to where I belong.”
Rebekah’s words spun round and round in Rose’s mind as she excused herself and headed straight for Silas Good, glad, after most of a day apart, to finally claim her place at his side.

Chapter 8

H
en watched contentedly as Mattie Sue and Beth Browning showed each other their stuffed animals later that evening. Most of Beth’s were cats and teddy bears, and she asked if Mattie Sue could count all of them. Mattie was up to eleven when Hen noticed her mother was starting to droop. “Looks like it’s almost bedtime for Mammi Emma,” she said softly from her spot across the kitchen.

The girls looked up, and then Beth went to stand beside the wheelchair and placed her hand on Hen’s mother’s slender arm.

Hen didn’t know if Rose had ever told Beth about the accident that caused her mother’s paralysis from the waist down, so Hen merely said that her mother wasn’t well.

“I want to write a healing prayer for her.” Beth’s eyes were moist. “I’ll write it in my notebook.”

“That’s kind of you, honey.” Hen eyed her mother, who was already asleep. “Mattie Sue, go and call Dawdi Sol for me, please.”

But her daughter continued to count Beth’s stuffed animals near the woodstove, not acknowledging Hen’s request.

“Mattie,” she said, slightly louder, getting up from her chair. “Did you hear what I asked?”

As if in a daze, Mattie Sue glanced up. “Oh, sorry, Mommy . . . what did ya say?”

Hen repeated herself before noticing Beth was now sitting on the wooden bench facing the wheelchair, a few inches from Mom. Beth’s eyes were intent on Mom, and she was whispering under her breath. Hen asked her, “Are you all right, Beth?”

“Your mommy’s not breathing so good,” Beth said.

“I think she’s just tired.” But in case she was mistaken, Hen moved close to her mother, watching . . . listening. After a moment, she assured Beth, “Jah, she’s resting now . . . please don’t worry.”

All the same, Beth sat like a statuette, her face turned toward Mom’s—her lips pursed shut.

Just then, Hen’s father came into the kitchen. Mattie Sue got up and trailed behind as he moved to the wheelchair. “Emma, dear.” He leaned down to scoop her up. “Time we head for bed, jah?”

Mom sighed deeply, not opening her eyes. She lay limp in his strong arms, resting her head against him as a sweet smile played across her lips. “
Gut Nacht, alliebber—
good night, everyone,” she said, eyes still closed.

“Sleep well, Mom,” said Hen, watching with a heavy heart.

“Good night, Mrs. Kauffman,” Beth said as she followed them to the doorway of their bedroom.

Mattie Sue clung to Hen’s long skirt. “Mommy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“What’s a-matter with Beth?”

Hen swallowed the lump in her throat. “Come here, sweetie.” She reached down and lifted Mattie Sue into her arms, glancing toward Beth. Carrying her little girl out to the back porch, she began to explain what Rose had told her about Gilbert Browning’s daughter. “God made some of us very special,” she said. “I mean, some people never really grow up inside. They might look like they’re older than you are, but in their mind—and heart—they’re still like little children.”

“Like me?”

She whispered, “Jah, honey.”

Mattie Sue’s eyes grew round. “Is that why Beth has so many stuffed animals with her?”

Hen nodded. “That’s right.”

“I like her, Mommy.” Mattie Sue turned, looking back to see Beth. “She’s really nice.”

“I think so, too.”

Beth returned to the kitchen, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know . . . but can’t your mommy walk?” she asked Hen, who put Mattie Sue down quickly.

“She hasn’t walked in eleven years—not since her accident.” Hen hoped she wasn’t saying more than she should to the tenderhearted young woman. “Did Rose Ann tell you about it?”

Beth frowned, her head tilted a little. Then, hesitating, she went to sit near the window and stared out at the darkness. “I miss Rosie,” she muttered, sniffing softly. “I really do.”

She must miss her father by now, too,
Hen thought. She wondered if it might not be a good idea to have Beth head upstairs for bed sooner rather than later, considering her state. She’d get her settled in with Mattie Sue nearby. “Let’s read a story together,” she said. “What do ya say?”

Mattie Sue was all for it. “In Aunt Rosie’s room?” She began pulling out several new library books, offering them to Beth. “Did ya bring your pajamas along?” she asked a little shyly.

Beth brushed away her tears. “Yes, my favorite Strawberry Shortcake ones. I’ll show you.”

Hen was relieved to see Mattie Sue go to Beth’s side, and in a few minutes, when they were all in Rose’s room, Beth said she wanted to unpack her things.
Mattie Sue can be a blessing to Beth,
thought Hen as she made some room in one of Rose’s dresser drawers, knowing her sister wouldn’t mind.

She looked at her wristwatch and realized Rose might not be home for another three hours or more.
If her beau takes her riding,
she thought, so relieved that Nick Franco was out of the picture.
I hope forever. . . .