The Thorn (28 page)

To think she had to ponder her words so carefully, even in the first line of her letter, somewhat alarmed Hen. Yet she wanted to respect the bishop's wishes and write before it was time to set the table here in the main house. She was still getting acclimated to the daily schedule of eating right at eleven thirty on the dot. The early hour gave Dad all afternoon to accomplish his farming work, as well as his woodworking projects. Dad had mentioned writing an invitation of his own to Brandon, but she'd asked him to hold off until she first sent hers. "I'll see how he responds to mine," she had said, fairly certain the outcome would be negative.

Wishing for a resolution to their dilemma, Hen picked up the pen and began to write.

Dear Brandon,

I think of you all the time ... and miss you. I hope you're doing all right.

Mattie Sue is having an exciting day today, enjoying the farm and feeding the animals. It's so cute to see her chasing after all the kittens around here!

Both Mattie and I want to invite you to have dinner with us this coming Saturday night. We'll cook something very special for you - we're staying in the smaller "grandfather" house for the time being, so it will be] ust the three of us.

I'm mailing this note today hoping that you can get word back to me soon. Either that or I will follow up with a call from the phone shanty in the neighbor's field down from us.

We really hope you'll come, Brandon!

With love, Hen (and Mattie Sue)

Before she lost her nerve, Hen hurried back to the Dawdi Haus and found her purse, then rummaged through it to find a stamp. She gripped the letter and made her way out to the road. Will a dinner invitation make a difference?

Perhaps Hen should have started with something simpler and offered to make a meal for Brandon in their home together. But she felt unready to return to the English world so soon. Honestly, she felt torn, uncertain how to implement the things the bishop and Barbara had suggested.

What she truly longed for was to interest Brandon in joining the Amish church, and had started to ask God to soften his heart toward the Plain community. "Why does this seem so ridiculous, dear Lord?" Hen whispered as she walked back to the main house to check on her ailing mother.

Reaching for his carpenter's pencil, Solomon marked the surface where the next board would adjoin. Several hours had come and gone since Rose Ann left with Nick for her job over at the Browning house. All the while, he'd struggled to keep his mind on his work - finishing up the orders for the two pony carts - and pondering what he and Emma might do to reach out to Hen's husband. The bishop had been quite direct with him about opening wide the door to a relationship.

As soon as Sol could come up with something, he would talk with Emma, who really didn't have much of an opinion these days. Just marking time, he sometimes thought, till she passed on to the Hallelujah Shore. This made him downright cheerless when he thought of it. Yet wouldn't he wish for the same if he were forever laid up? Nothing more could be done for her, poor thing, and she was resigned to her immobile state.

"What can we do to include Brandon in our family?" he whispered. He placed the square level back in the pocket of his work apron.

A few minutes later, his father-in-law, Jeremiah, came wandering into the workshop and asked about the pony carts. "Are ya nearly done with 'em?"

"Oh, 'bout three more hours or so. Why?"

"Just wondered if you might run me over to BB's right quick. Sylvia wants some kidney beans for her three-bean salad."

"Well, either I can take you or Hen can drive ya later today after work."

"In her fancy car?"

Solomon smiled. "It's a mighty perty blue, ain't?"

His father-in-law grinned and looked at him. "How long before you ask her to park it somewhere ... well, out of the way."

"Might be best to let that come up on its own, I daresay."

"No, no ... ya need to say something," replied Jeremiah. "She best be hiding it under a tree somewheres ... or out back behind the barn."

"All in gut time," Solomon said. "She's only been home a couple days."

"Fair enough." Jeremiah changed the subject. "I hear we're hosting the applesauce-making frolic this Saturday."

The notion that Brandon Orringer might be interested in seeing how this was done popped into Solomon's mind. "Do ya think Hen's husband might come, if we invite him?"

"I've never even met the Yankee, so I can't really say."

"Well, I'm tryin' my best to get Hen's husband over here, is all."

Jeremiah smacked his lips and pulled on his beard. "A mighty big hurdle the bishop's got you about to jump over."

Sol agreed. "Still, if the Lord's in it - which He must be, to put it in Aaron's mind - then things'll fall into place."

"Fall into the Englischer's lap, ya mean."

Sol had to chuckle at this. Fact was, God had either called Hen's husband to be one of the People or He hadn't. It would be interesting to watch and see how Brandon responded to a divine tug, if that's what you could call an invitation to make quarts of applesauce.

Thanks to Solomon's mother-in-law and Rose, by the time his prodigal daughter had arrived back from working at the fabric shop, the supper of roast beef, new potatoes, carrots, and onions was piping hot and ready to serve. Solomon had been over in the main house, savoring the aroma and hoping to catch Hen before she walked in the back door.

He stepped outside to wait and saw her coming down the steps of the addition. "Hen!" He went to meet her.

She smiled, looking more rested than when she'd arrived the day before yesterday. "How was your day, Dad?"

He told her the pony carts were finished and that he'd even had time to deliver them. "How 'bout you?"

"There were oodles of customers at the shop this afternoon, so that's good," she said. "What's on your mind?"

"I've been thinkin' about what the bishop asked your mother and me to do." He took off his straw hat and pushed a hand through his hair. "What chance is there that Brandon would spend time here with us this Saturday? We're goin' to make applesauce to divide amongst several families."

"Oh." Her smile faded instantly. "I really doubt he'd come."

"Well, we can invite him anyways, jah?"

"Can't hurt, I guess," Hen said. "But I already mailed him an invitation to join Mattie Sue and me for supper that night... over in our little Dawdi Haus."

"If he accepts, then all the better."

"It'll be a miracle." Hen glanced toward the big house.

"God ain't short on those." Sol offered a smile. "Just look at you, standin' here like this."

She hung her head. "And I said I'd never darken your door, didn't I?"

Sol remembered too well how those unbearable words had spewed forth. "You're followin' what's right." He sighed. "Now we'll hope and pray you can interest your husband in the same."

Hen sighed and they fell into step together, following the sidewalk to the main house. "I suppose Mattie Sue's been helping Rose and Mammi cook," Hen said.

"Last I saw her, she was over yonder with Nick, riding one of the bishop's ponies."

"Why's she so drawn to him, I wonder?"

"Maybe she's like Rosie," he said before thinking. Then he added quickly, "Nick does have a gentle side when it comes to children. I've seen it many a time." He opened the screen door.

Just then, they spied Mattie Sue running across the meadow. Nick stood a ways back, waving to them. "See? He's watchin' out for her," Solomon said.

"And Rosie ... who's looking out for her?" asked Hen.

He rubbed his forehead. "You're worried 'bout that, too?"

"My sister's eyes sparkle when she talks of Nick," Hen said. "I doubt she even realizes how fond she is of him."

Like a moth to aflame ...

Solomon felt a wave of nausea as he hung up his straw hat. He hoped to goodness Hen was wrong. Even so, he asked, "And Nick - how's he feel about her?"

"Oh, he's a goner."

"You're sure?"

"Totally smitten," said Hen.

"Can Rosie point him toward the church, do ya think?" Sol leaned down to remove his work boots on the porch.

"How determined is he to leave the People?"

"He's never said, but just look how he refuses to wear the traditional men's haircut. And I heard he picked a fight with a tourist in Quarryville on Monday, according to someone who witnessed it himself. Jah, I fear Nick's on his way out ... and sooner than any of us realizes."

Hen grimaced. "Unless Rosie stops him ..."

Stricken, Solomon said no more as they made their way into the kitchen for supper.

Rose never expected Nick to shine his flashlight on her bedroom window that night, like a beau coming to propose marriage. But there he was all the same, and when she opened the window, he asked her to go riding with him.

"I ... don't know," she said, still holding her library book, Jane Austen's Emma.

"Is your knee better?"

"Well, jah ... quite a lot."

"We could go through the meadow, instead of taking the road." His voice was insistent. "I'll be careful with ya, Rosie."

Against her better judgment, she reluctantly agreed and closed the window. When she'd donned her warmest sweater over her dress, she put on her woolen shawl for good measure. Outside, she asked Nick to go to the haymow to get her britches. "My hiding place," she told him.

He seemed surprised. "You keep 'em in the barn?"

"Always have." Rose waited on the back porch for him to return. When he did, she went inside to pull the trousers on under her dress in the small room where her mother napped during the day. Rose felt tired enough herself to simply lie down on the daybed and fall asleep. She assumed it was all the reading she'd done and hoped the night air might perk her up.

Back outside, she let Nick help hoist her onto Pepper. Then he went around and slung his right leg forward over the horse, careful not to bump Rose. "Grab hold of me when we ride, all right?"

Rose agreed, glad she'd worn the britches, even though now Nick knew where she hid them.

"Are ya ready?" he asked.

She held lightly onto Nick's shirt. "Go slow, all right?"

"Nice 'n' easy," he said, directing the horse to move toward the grassy lane leading out to the bishop's field.

"Aren't we go in' to the high meadow?"

"We'll end up there."

The night was still ... the sky clear and dark. She wanted to enjoy this ride through the night. But Rose thought of her book and wondered if quick-witted and spoiled Emma Woodhouse was destined always to be a matchmaker and never a bride. Few young women Rose knew would've taken the same stance on marriage as that character. And yet, as she contemplated it, Rose realized she, too, had once nearly given up on ever having a husband, though for wholly different reasons.

Thankfully, Silas didn't forget about me, she thought as she watched the meadow rise to meet the sky over yonder.

"Your leg's doin' all right?" Nick asked over his shoulder.

"It's fine."

"Ready to try for a slow trot?"

"Thought ya said we were going to dawdle."

"Well, must we go this slow?" Clearly, he was itching to increase Pepper's pace.