The Thorn (35 page)

"Why would ya say that?"

"'Cause he's not interested in me or in Mary - neither one." Sarah looked away, frowning, then back at her. "You tryin' to look out for him, Rosie?"

She was, but Rose wouldn't say why. "Sure is hard to understand why he never had a girlfriend, ain't so?" said Rose.

"Might be he's not thinking of stayin' round long enough to settle down and marry. 'Least that's how the grapevine has it."

She was afraid of this kind of talk. "Guess we'll have to keep praym .

Sarah looked around, her golden hair catching the sun's rays. "Jah... 'specially since he's disappeared somewhere - and on the Lord's Day, yet."

"So, Nick wasn't at home when ya visited over yonder?"

Sarah's eyes were gentle now as she nodded. "Bishop looked awfully worried for Nick. I s'pose we all should be. Still," Sarah added, "he's never seemed Amish to me. And that disgraceful ponytail!"

"Why'd ya flirt with him, then?" Rose had to ask.

Sarah's eyes registered instant disdain. "Ach ... you must think I'm like your sister, Hen. Well, I ain't!" With that she picked up her skirt and marched away, heading back to the house.

"What a terrible matchmaker I am," Rose muttered to herself. Oh, but she wished to goodness Nick wasn't raising eyebrows by vanishing like he had.

Why had Nick picked the Lord's Day to go off to the English world? Had he gone to his mother's grave without her? And did he take a car there? If so, why choose the most sacred day of the week? So many questions tumbled through her mind.

She glanced at the bishop's house and wondered why on earth Sarah and Sadie's parents had gone visiting there today, too. Unless ... was Sarah actually hiding something about her - or her sister's - feelings for Nick? After all, her cousin had not denied being interested in Nick just now, had she?

As Rose slowly turned to walk back toward the house, here came Christian, making a beeline for her. "Hullo," she said, wondering why he looked so glum.

"Rosie . . . any idea where Nick's gone off to?" Christian's eyes probed hers.

"No." She shook her head. "How long's he been away?"

"Far as Dat knows, he never came home last night."

"Did ya run him off? You two are always quarreling."

He smiled severely. "He needs a gut whippin', that's what."

"Christian - bite your lip!"

He laughed scornfully. "That boy's never had a hand laid on him by Dat or anyone." He lowered his voice, stepping closer. "Between you and me, I 'spect my father was afraid of the caseworkers checkin' up. But I say a hard thrashing might go a long ways with Nick Franco."

"Ain't a gut idea to think that way," Rose said. "Don't ya listen at Preaching?"

"Well, you just try 'n' love a brother like him!" Christian shot back as he rushed off.

For pity's sake. Rose wondered if Nick hadn't run off for the day just to be free of Christian. But deep inside, she feared Nick had been so enticed by what he called the edge that he'd crossed over and was never coming back.

Seeing Silas two days in a row - their Saturday evening date and again late Sunday afternoon for an impromptu volleyball game at his oldest brother's house - was unusual but also very nice. Because of the sudden drop in temperature Sunday evening, they'd shortened their time together after the game. The sizzling-hot brick he'd put on the floor of the buggy had cooled much too quickly.

Truthfully, Rose Ann had been kept so busy she'd scarcely had time to ponder Nick's peculiar absence over the weekend, at least not until Monday afternoon. By then he had returned from who knows where, having slipped into the bishop's house late Sunday night - or so Nick told her himself while they hauled feed for the mules. Rose listened, trying not to make much of it - trying not to reveal her concern, either. She presumed that if he wanted her to know anything about his disappearance, he would say. But he didn't breathe a word.

Rose busied herself with a canning bee on Monday morning while Mammi Sylvia looked after Mamm. Rose and Hen and several of their close cousins, including Sarah, Sadie, and Mary, worked together to put up dozens of quarts of chowchow for the deacon's family. Arie Zook had come to assist, as well, which seemed to make Hen very happy. Then on Tuesday, after breakfast, Rose and Mamm helped Hen cut out two new dresses and aprons, using paper bags for homemade patterns.

By Wednesday morning, the week was beginning to feel completely out of kilter without her usual banter with Nick. Yet all the while, Rose attempted to avoid her friend ... for Silas's sake.

When Rose arrived at work Wednesday, she was delighted to see Beth sitting in the kitchen, waiting for her. Gilbert Browning was nearby in his usual spot in the corner of the front room, reading the newspaper. Rose said hello and set about brewing coffee and making oatmeal and apple fritters. Sighing, she glanced at the sink filled with dirty dishes.

Beth broke the stillness. "Daddy, can I please go to see Rosie's baby horses?"

Rose kept her attention on mixing the oatmeal, but Mr. Browning did not reply.

"I really, really want to." Beth reached for the glass of orange juice Rose had poured.

"Beth ... listen."

"Daddy, please!"

Rose couldn't help herself. "What if you brought Beth to my house this Friday, after the noon meal?" she suggested to Mr. Browning. "I could bring her home in, say, two hours?"

Beth's eyes were alight as she turned to see what her father might say. She looked to be holding her breath.

Once again, Mr. Browning appeared quite unwilling, and Rose was fairly sure he was going to nix the whole idea.

"I'll keep a close watch over her," Rose added.

He shook his head. "It's too risky."

"Aw, Daddy ..." Beth slumped back. "Rosie said she'd take care of me."

"But I'm your only parent, Beth, honey. Someone has to make good decisions ... for you."

Beth looked devastated, like this was her last hope of getting away from the house - and from her overly protective father.

"Maybe another time, then." Rose realized it was best to drop the idea, lest Gilbert Browning take issue with her. She was merely an employee, after all.

Rose poured more coffee for herself and thought Mr. Browning might want his warmed up, too. Going over to the lamp table, she poured some into his cup. Then she returned to the kitchen, thinking about all that had already transpired in a few days' time in this not-so-haunted house. She'd gone from suspecting someone was being hidden upstairs to discovering it was, in fact, Mr. Browning's own daughter. And, goodness, but Beth had quite an interesting personality - she loved life as much as Rose did. She's just not permitted to live it fully!

When the hot oatmeal and fritters were ready to serve, Rose set the table, then went to the sink and drew water to wash the dishes while Beth ate. Mr. Browning put his paper away and stated that he wasn't hungry before heading outside through the back door, mumbling to himself. Rose assumed he was either disturbed at what she'd suggested, or still pondering it.

"Daddy won't let me go. I just know it," Beth whined.

"He might need time to think it over."

Beth had tears in her eyes. "No, he never will."

Rose glanced over her shoulder. "How patient can ya be?"

Beth blinked her eyes, wiping back tears. "It's no fun being stuck here. The only time I get outside is when I dress like an Amish boy and help in the yard for a while."

Rose felt sorry for her yet again as she scrubbed the dishes. It occurred to her that Beth was surely bright enough to do some easy kitchen chores. "Would you like to dry the dishes and utensils?"

"Daddy says I might break something, so we just leave them be."

You aren't kidding - you leave them for me! "Well, if I showed you how to carefully dry, would you like to try?"

Beth scratched her head and moved her weight from one foot to the other. "Um ... I don't know."

"Isn't it time you learned how to take care of a kitchen?"

Halfheartedly, Beth finished eating her oatmeal and a whole fritter before coming to the sink. She brought her dirty dishes and silverware and handed them to Rose. Then she picked up the dish towel Rose had placed there.

"Are you right-handed?"

"Yes."

"All right, then. Pick up the plate in your left hand and dry with the towel in your right." Rose showed her what she meant with the first bowl. "Always make slow movements when stacking plates and other breakable items. That way you won't chip or crack them."

They worked side by side until all the dishes were washed and dried. Then Beth went down the side hallway to the rear door and peered out. "Daddy looks real sad out there."

Everything's changing for him, thought Rose.

Beth came back down the hall and opened the kitchen pantry door. She disappeared in there for the longest time, talking to herself all the while. Then, just when Rose was about to check on her, Beth brought out the broom and dustpan. "I hoped and hoped I'd get to see your baby horses," said Beth, sniffling. "Hoped so hard it hurts." She began to push the crumbs about in unpredictable patterns, attempting to sweep under the table without Rose prompting her.

She smiled empathetically at Beth, who was clearly eager for more independence.

When the floor was swept, Beth went to sit in her father's usual chair, across the room. Hoping to join her, Rose walked to the petite armless rocker and was about to sit.

"Oh, not there!" Beth said, eyes wide.

Rose stepped back.

"That chair was Mommy's." Beth's lower lip quivered. "She made the pretty needlepoint there on the seat cushion."

Rose leaned down to look. "Your mother was very gut. Mine does needlepoint, too."

"We stopped sitting in her chair when she ..." Beth's voice faded off.

Sighing, Rose said she knew her mother had passed away. "I'm awful sorry."

"Daddy said Mommy was too young to die."

Rose thought on that. "Well, it's not our place to question God's timing. Did you know He plans when we enter this world at birth - and He knows the day we will draw our last breath, too?"

Beth blinked. "Never heard that before."

"It's written in the Bible," she told her. "Our heavenly Father is sovereign. That means His plans for us are far better than what we could ever begin to plan ourselves."

Beth looked at her. "Is it easy for you to trust God, Rosie?"

"Believe me, I'm far from perfect, but I try not to let myself question the Lord."

Shrugging nonchalantly, Beth got up from the chair and wandered back through the sitting room, nearly stumbling as she headed toward the stairs without saying more.

Did I say something to upset her? Rose wondered.

Even after returning home, Rose continued to think about her discussion with Beth. How much of it had Mr. Browning's daughter understood? And what of his reluctance to allow Beth to visit the farm?

Rose tried to keep her attention on her latest novel as she snuggled into her bed that night, about to drift off to sleep. Suddenly she saw a flash of light on one of her windows. Ach, is it Silas? She scurried to find her bathrobe and slipped it on. Not having time to put her hair into a respectable bun, she wound her waist-length hair up into a knot before opening the window.