The Mercy (22 page)

“Does Dat care that you ride George?” asked Hen more quietly.

Rose pressed her lips together. “I really don’t ride much anymore. Hardly ever.”

“So it’s all right as long as you don’t go often?”

Hen had her but good—her sister knew that the brethren frowned on grown folk riding. Horses were for pulling carriages and fieldwork. “Well, once I’m married, I prob’ly won’t.”

“You
probably
won’t?”

Rose giggled.

“So, dare I ask if the wedding will be this autumn?”

Rose tried not to smile and looked away.

“Seems you’re not going to tell me.” Hen nodded knowingly and led her to Mattie Sue’s room, showing off two new frilly white pillows she’d recently made. They sat on the neatly made bed as Hen told Rose her idea to sell baked goods out on the back screened porch to bring in extra “pin money” for baby clothes and other nursery items. “Arie Zook is doing the same thing this summer,” Hen said.

“I like the idea.”

“And Brandon’s fine with it since I’m not working at the fabric shop anymore.”

Rose touched her hand. “Do ya miss it, sister?”

“Some days, but all in all, not so much.”

“You seem very happy,” Rose said.

Hen reached to hug her. “The Lord’s been so good to me and Brandon . . . mending our hearts. Our marriage has never been stronger.”

Rose squeezed her tight. “So
gut
to hear.”

When they returned downstairs, Rose found Brandon and Mattie Sue doing a paint-by-number page at the kitchen table. Rose wandered over to watch, and Mattie Sue quickly explained that it was from a Bible story.

“Baby Moses in his basket,” Mattie Sue told her.

Hen found her recipe notebook and went with Rose to the front room. The flick of a switch brought a flood of light.

“Do you miss usin’ gas lamps?” Rose was curious to know.

“Oh, sometimes.” Hen had a faraway look. “But modern conveniences are best for our life together, and that’s what matters.” She opened her notebook. “Some of these recipes have been around for generations but have never been in print. I want to make a book for each family in the church district,” Hen said. “As a little thank-you for the months Mattie Sue and I lived at Salem Road.”

Rose nodded and blinked back tears. “It was a learning time.”

“Oh, goodness, more than you know.”

They perused through the recipes, and when Hen asked Rose to write one or two of her favorites, Rose decided on hot water sponge cake and Amish meat loaf.

Later, Hen remarked how very sultry the nights were. “We’ve talked about installing air-conditioning, but I’m not so sure we really need it, and Brandon’s leaving it to me to decide what I’m comfortable with.”

“What about fans?”

“Oh, we have them going, believe me.” Hen laughed. “But they just push the hot air around.”

Rose looked about, taking in all the beautiful things Hen had on display—the china cups and saucers she’d collected through the years, and the satiny throw pillows in tans and brown scattered across the upholstered sofa. Some of the furniture in this room was new, as were two framed prints. One had the look of an old painting—a shepherd girl in a lovely meadow with a lamb in the crook of her arm.

Hen’s voice grew softer. “Have you heard that Nick’s session in Bart with Bishop Simon ran amok? Arie’s husband, Elam, told her so.”

“What on earth?! No . . . I hadn’t heard. What’ll happen now?”

“Bishop Simon wants a longer proving time for Nick than is typical. According to Elam, Bishop Simon and Old Ezekiel are going to discuss it soon.”

“Why’s that?”

“They want to see if Nick actually follows through and attends baptismal instruction and whatnot. Everything he does is being scrutinized.”

“Is part of it that he confessed his role in Christian’s death?”

“Evidently he did, but Bishop Simon seemed to think Nick’s story had too many holes.”

“Well, for pity’s sake.” And here Rose had hoped Nick’s return might benefit his foster father. “I hope Nick’s coming back won’t be for naught.”

“It just might be. Bishop Simon’s nearly as traditional and strict as Old Ezekiel, and he’s peeved that Aaron didn’t manage to get Nick into the church years ago. And now with folks still suspecting he’s had a hand in Christian’s death . . .”

Rose didn’t know what to think, but she knew she didn’t like hearing things third- or fourth-hand. Surely Dat would know more directly from Aaron. Oh, her heart ached for their wonderful neighbor-bishop. To think Nick might not be able to make a difference after all!

O
n the Lord’s Day, Mamm got ready to attend Preaching service for the first time since her surgery. She was feeling better as each week passed and eager for church.

Rose watched as her father took the wheelchair out of the back of the buggy and carried it into the temporary house of worship. Soon he returned to carry Mamm into the big farmhouse, where he placed her gently in the padded wheelchair near the back of the gathering room.

Rose waited with Mamm in the large, empty room while Dat went outdoors to line up with the men and boys, prior to the start of the service. “Are ya feelin’ all right, Mamm?” Rose asked.

“My dear girl, I’ve been yearnin’ for this day since returning home.” Mamm folded her hands and smiled with expectation.

They heard the ordained brethren entering the house, and as they filed into the room, Rose was relieved to see Aaron Petersheim still included with the group of ministers, though she couldn’t help but recall Hen’s discouraging news.

How long before he’s completely cast aside?

The day was already stifling, and Rose wished they’d held the meeting in the barn like they often did during July and August. They were all stuffed indoors because strong winds were forecast for later in the morning. Mamm, bless her heart, might need to be wheeled out to the porch early to get some air.

Once again, Rose missed seeing Hen and Mattie Sue here, on Mamm’s special day of return. It was comforting, however, to know that Hen and her little family were also attending church somewhere today. Soon the older men, including Dawdi Jeremiah, entered, followed by the next generation—her Dat and other menfolk in his age group. And then the unmarried fellows walked in, arranged by age—the older ones followed by the younger.

Nick Franco came in with the other courting-age young men, including Hank Zook and Ezra Lapp and dozens of others. If this was a normal year, more than half of them would be married come wedding season.

Nick went to sit on the second row of benches with Aaron’s sons-in-law, including Verna’s husband, Levi, who had made repeated attempts to befriend Nick through the years. All of them sat with heads bowed in an attitude of prayer.

When everyone was gathered inside, Mamm reached for Rose’s hand and clasped it gently. During the first hymn, her eyes shone with joyful tears.
O Lord, bless my mother with your loving-kindness this day,
Rose prayed silently.

The preacher then gave his customary welcome to the membership and youth gathered there. “
Gnade sei mit euch und Freide von Gott unser Vater.
Grace be with you and peace from God, our Father.”

Fleetingly, Rose let her mind drift back to the times she’d sat with her mother in church, with the other women. She had been at Mamm’s side other times, too—at market as a little girl, where she helped set up the display table of embroidered items and all the jars of jams and jellies. It wasn’t till after Mamm’s accident that she’d begun to make and sell the boy and girl cloth dolls, all faceless—except for the one with the downturned mouth and sad eyes. She knew she ought to pull out the stitching on that one so her nieces wouldn’t see it. It was her responsibility to provide them with a devout example in life, just as so many had done for her.

Rose’s focus had only just returned to the orderly service when a howling wind and driving rain came up suddenly, gusting in through the open windows. Nick was one of the young men who leaped to his feet to help close them.

What’s become of the boy who wanted nothing to do with church?
She observed him with not only curiosity but wonder.

After the rainstorm blew over, Rose and Leah Miller ran into each other outside during the first seating of the shared meal. While the ministerial brethren and visitors ate, Rose stood under the shade of a big maple tree, trying to escape the noontime heat as she waited for the youth to be called in for their seating. Leah smiled brightly as they greeted each other.

They made small talk while they fanned their perspiring faces with the hems of their white aprons; then Leah mentioned Rose’s younger cousin Sarah. “She was mighty surprised to see Nick at the first instructional class early this morning. Before church, over at the preacher’s house.”

Rose had expected to hear this, based on what Nick had told her. Even so, she was glad to hear he had actually gone.

Leah continued. “Sarah says he seems real different. Like he’s livin’ in the same skin as before but with a new heart.”

Did Bishop Simon sense any of this?
Rose mused. Alas, the Bart bishop had only just met Nick. How would he know how much the young man had changed?

Someone rang the dinner bell, and Rose and Leah and the other young people made their way toward the house. Several of the fellows lagged behind, discreetly eyeing the girls.

Please, Lord, give the overseeing bishops your wisdom alone,
Rose prayed as she headed indoors.

An hour after Dat and Mamm left, Rose was still helping redd up after the common meal. She hadn’t wanted to leave too quickly, hoping to talk more with Leah Miller. The pair were now walking toward home together, being careful not to step in the many mud puddles on the road. They walked companionably awhile without saying much amidst the sound of crickets and a few rowdy crows over yonder near Millers’ big spread. The heavy rains had turned the fields into a shimmering green mantle.

Leah paused in her stride. “Well, I wasn’t goin’ to say anything,” she began, her voice faltering, “but from what Jake has indicated, he’s more traditional than his twin brother. But maybe you know this already.”

“Know what?”

“That Isaac’s pushin’ the
Ordnung
a bit.”

Rose knew he enjoyed the line dances and whatnot, but she hadn’t thought he was in danger of crossing any serious boundaries.

“Does Isaac ever talk of his Englischer employer?” asked Leah.

“A little.” Rose wished for the paper fan she’d left back at the house. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Just that he’s spending a lot of time with them.”

“Like this weekend’s trip to the ocean?”

“There’s some concern surrounding that, jah.”

Rose took this in. “Well, Isaac knows I’m baptized Amish. Why would he court me unless he plans to join church himself?”

Leah shrugged. “Sorry—not sure I should’ve said anything.”

Rose touched Leah’s arm. “What more are ya tryin’ to say?”

Leah glanced about, as if concerned someone other than Rose might hear. “Jake worries the farmer’s family will rent bikes on the boardwalk . . . and that Isaac will, too.”

Rose shook her head. “I really doubt Isaac would do that. Besides, he’s not baptized yet.”

“Guess I stuck my foot in my mouth,” Leah said with a sidelong glance. “Don’t mean to sound like a gossipy hen.”

“Oh, I don’t mind you tellin’ me. But Jake doesn’t have anything to worry about,” she assured Leah.

They walked to the end of the lane and parted ways. Several buggies passed Rose as she headed toward Salem Road, kicking up mud as they went. Silas Good rumbled by and waved, an unmarried sister on either side of him, looking mighty uncomfortable all jammed together in a buggy meant for two.

Rose waved to Silas and his sisters, glad she’d removed her dark hose and shoes in the outhouse after Preaching so they wouldn’t be ruined. Even though her toes squished into the mire on the road, she didn’t mind going without shoes.

She thought of Isaac running barefoot on the wet sand at the beach, hoping his time at the shore was as innocent as she’d dared to claim.