The Mercy (16 page)

W
ashday dawned, and before Hen packed, she and Rose hung out the week’s washing for their grandparents, as well as for Dat. Hen had also laundered her Amish dresses and aprons, which she planned to leave behind, thinking Mammi Sylvia could offer them to one of the young women in the church. Rose suggested they didn’t have to concern themselves with that just yet—there was time to decide.

Hen’s face shone as they worked. Of course, it might’ve been the brisk breeze that put a bright red cherry on each of Hen’s cheeks. Rose couldn’t imagine a better outcome for the three of them.
The entire family.
She thought of Mamm, recalling how much stronger she was last evening, when Rose went along with her father to visit after supper. She and Dat had been hard-pressed not to reveal Hen’s happy news, but they would leave that to her and Brandon, who planned to stop by the hospital later today. The very notion made Rose feel light with joy.

Rose hurried out to the mailbox Tuesday, wondering if there might be mail from Isaac. Not only was there a letter from him, but there were two from Mamm, one for her and one for Dat. Her heart beat fast as she thought of Isaac’s letter, but she read the short one from Mamm first, comforted by the familiar handwriting. Mamm was quite sentimental, saying how much she missed everyone, just as she’d said Sunday evening when Rose visited her at the hospital. Mamm was eager to return home, and Rose could hardly wait for that day, as well.

It’d be awful nice if you could tell Barbara I’m grateful for her prayers and her love. Will you give her my greeting, Rose, dear? When I’m stronger, I’ll write to her, too.

Rose brushed away her tears, hoping to visit Mamm again soon with Dat. Things were so quiet around here with Hen and Mattie Sue gone. Rose hoped Mamm’s days of rehabilitation—she was scheduled to be moved to a center in Lancaster later this week—would speed by.

After rising to stoke the fire, Rose read Isaac’s letter. What had he written this time? Curious, she tore open the envelope.

Dear Rose,

How are you? I hope you and your family—your Mamm especially—are doing well.

We had a no-Preaching day on Sunday, so there was plenty of visiting going on. Some of my cousins told me about a gathering nearby, this coming Saturday evening. Would you like to go? I’d come pick you up in a car driven by one of my Mennonite cousins. Likely it will be too cold for you to ride both ways in my open buggy, and I can’t ask for the family carriage. My parents will be using it to visit Bishop Simon and his wife for supper that night.

If you’d want to go, just drop me a note. I’ll have it in a day or so.

Until I hear from you,

Isaac

She smiled at his enthusiasm and wondered if it might be a Ping-Pong tournament with several other couples. He’d mentioned on their first date how he enjoyed playing. Lots of fellows she knew liked to play and were nearly impossible to beat.

There was no question in her mind that she wanted to accept Isaac’s invitation, even though he’d mentioned going by car—a cousin’s, no less! How odd that was! Still, it would be a good chance to find out more about this young man who was related to her own sister-in-law.

Rose folded the letter and pushed it neatly back into the envelope, then took it upstairs to slip into her drawer. Hurrying downstairs again, she hoped to contain her anticipation, or Dat might notice and wonder what was up.

Solomon knew better than anyone how to make Emma smile. He had spent more than eleven years encouraging her while she was wheelchair-ridden. And since her surgery, he’d taken her a card every few days, brought from Rose’s greeting card box. He liked the idea of filling up every inch of the corkboard across from her bed with greetings from dozens of relatives and friends, including Aaron and Barbara. He’d make sure the cards decorated her new room at the Lancaster Osteopathic Hospital, too, where she would be receiving specialized rehabilitation therapy. There, the whole family could rally around her, taking turns cheering her on through what would be a long and grueling rehab process.

Emma would be spending her birthday there at the rehab center, as well. Sol would urge all of them to visit her on that particular day—coming up in nine days now. Perhaps Sylvia or Rose could bake a nice two-layer cake.

He’d thought of bringing something for Emma’s sweet tooth, too, but decided it might be better to wait till after she was transported to Lancaster and was settled in. As it was, she had a surprisingly good appetite, eating the generous food portions on her tray. Never once had she complained about the hospital fare as some folk did.

Emma’s postsurgery pain had improved dramatically with the aid of ice applications and electrical devices. The orderlies came in frequently and moved her into various positions to ease the pressure on her spine, as well.

Sol’s driver turned onto Salem Road. The woodsmoke pouring from his neighbors’ chimneys cheered Sol, and he noticed Deacon Esh’s gas lamps lit downstairs in his house, his wife and daughters no doubt cooking supper. Sol knew this stretch of road like the back of his hand; even as a boy, he’d walked it to the fishing hole come Pentecost Monday, and to the old one-room schoolhouse.

How good it’ll be for Emma to see home again—weeks away yet
.

Passing the Petersheims’ place now, Sol recalled Aaron’s sympathetic smile yesterday. Evidently Brandon and Hen, with Mattie Sue, had stopped in to see Aaron and Barbara on their drive back to their place in town.
“They came to thank me for visiting Brandon while he was recovering in the Dawdi Haus,”
Aaron had said, obviously surprised. Solomon was pretty tickled when he considered it. Not just a little had changed between the bishop and Brandon Orringer since their first meeting.

The accident altered something in Brandon’s heart,
Sol realized anew, just as the frightening experience had changed Hen.

Sol wouldn’t permit himself to think how his daughter might be doing today—as a young widow—had the worst happened to Brandon last Christmas. No, it was like the two of them had been given a second go at their marriage . . . and at life. Mattie Sue would have both her parents living under the same roof. The thought made him misty eyed.

He could hardly wait to see them again. And soon he would give Mattie Sue her first riding lesson. It would be fun to teach such a lively youngster to ride. Sol hoped it would strengthen their special grandfather-granddaughter bond.

When they pulled into his lane, Sol paid the driver and asked to be driven to York again in the morning. “Could we leave right after breakfast, say around seven-thirty?” He would return to Gilbert Browning’s sometime past noon to work on the addition.

“Sure, that’ll be fine.” The driver thanked him and waved good-bye.

Sol got out and walked toward the house, where the welcoming lights of home beckoned. He could see Rose Ann moving about inside, preparing their meal. What he wouldn’t give to know if she was being courted by a God-fearing Amish fellow. He hadn’t heard anything more from Mose about the introduction they’d set up over there—as was their custom, he really wasn’t supposed to know. Still, Sol was curious as a cat and made his way through the back door, calling, “Hullo there, Rosie! What’s for supper?”

A
re you getting into the swing of modern life again?” asked Diane Perlis as she and Hen drank coffee together on Wednesday morning. Diane had dropped by on her way to take Karen to her preschool playgroup.

“S’pose I am.” Hen offered her some fruit from the bowl in the center of the table where they sat in the breakfast nook.

The sound of Mattie Sue and Karen playing down the hall in Mattie’s room brought a smile to both women’s faces, as the little girls chirped like happy birds. “They’ve missed seeing each other,” Diane said.

“I think so, too.” Hen nodded, uncertain how Diane would take the news about their plan to move to the country.

“You and Brandon should come to dinner sometime—the girls would enjoy that.” Diane pushed her long hair over her shoulders. “We all would.”

“Sure,” Hen said. “We should probably get it on the calendar, since we’ve decided to sell the house,” she added.

“You’ve listed it?” Diane looked surprised.

“The For Sale sign will go up shortly.”

Diane frowned, her dark eyes blinking. “Why, Hen? Is Brandon selling his share in the business, as well?”

“No, we’d just like to find a house out a ways.”

“But not too near the Amish, right?”

“Actually . . .” Hen couldn’t help but smile. “We want to be
surrounded
by Amish farmland.” She didn’t divulge the fact that Mattie Sue was probably telling her little friend the same news right now. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, Mattie was teaching Karen how to talk Deitsch; she could hear the girls laughing together.
Won’t Diane just faint?

“Wow, this is big, Hen.”

“I know it.”

“And Brandon’s in favor?”

“It’s his idea.”

Diane’s mouth dropped open. “No kidding.”

Hen explained that the accident and Brandon’s slow yet successful recovery at her parents’ farm had played a role in his decision. “His priorities have really changed.”

“Whatever suits your fancy,” Diane muttered, taking another sip of coffee. “Hard to comprehend.”

“I’m sure it is,” said Hen.

During a lull in the rather awkward conversation, Hen mentioned that Mattie Sue would still be able to play with Karen as long as the dolls were dressed modestly. “No Barbies. We want the toys to reflect our values.”

“Good luck enforcing any of that at this age.”

Hen was aghast. “But, Diane, if you can’t have a say in your child’s life during her preschool years, how can you expect to influence her to make wise choices when she’s a teenager? And if she doesn’t know where you draw the line, how will she ever learn to share your beliefs?”

Diane shrugged. “You’re talking about toys, Hen—don’t you think you’re making too much out of this?”

“Brandon and I can’t afford to wait till the right moment comes along to teach Mattie Sue about what’s important. If we don’t talk about kindness or patience and compassion in our daily life, we might miss our chance. Values like that can’t be pulled out of thin air.”

Diane inhaled loudly.

“How we live reflects what we love most. It’s about faith.”

Diane’s eyes squinted nearly shut. “That’s such a loaded word.”

Hen was feeling exasperated, but she wouldn’t let her English friend get under her skin. “All right, then . . . it’s about the Lord.”

“Listen, Hen. Faith for you might be about God, but I believe in myself.”

The last thing Hen wanted was to argue. It was clear why they didn’t see eye to eye. “You know, confidence is one thing,” she replied. “God also gives us that. I was talking about living a life to glorify Him.”

Diane looked over her shoulder. “Karen, honey, we need to go.” Her expression was pinched and her voice too loud. She called to her daughter several more times before marching off to find her and then getting her wrapped up to head out. Her good-bye was brief.

Did I say the right thing?
Hen wondered later. She poured milk for Mattie Sue, somewhat amused by Mattie’s desire to keep wearing her Amish dress. Her daughter had mimicked Hen and not worn her organdy prayer Kapp since they arrived home, however.

Thinking again of Diane Perlis and Karen, Hen knew she might have very little time left to spend with them, especially if all went well with the house search. She felt she’d failed in her attempt to be a thoughtful friend today.
Please help me be more patient with her, Lord.

“I miss playin’ with the bishop’s grandkids,” Mattie Sue said, her mouth all white from the milk. “And Beth, too.”

I miss a lot of things,
Hen thought. She peeled a banana and gave Mattie Sue half. “Let’s think about the good things we have right here—count our blessings. All right?”

“Okay, Mommy. What’s the first one?”

“Well . . . at the top of the list is that Daddy can see again and is getting stronger every day. And soon, he’ll have his cast off.”

Mattie looked up at her, nodding. “Being home with both Daddy and you is the best to me!”

Hen smiled down at her darling girl. “Oh, honey, I love you so much!”

Mattie Sue set down her glass of milk and stood on tiptoes to kiss Hen. “I love
you
, Mommy.” With that, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and dashed back to her room to play.

Hen cleared the table and picked up the kitchen, then set about organizing the things she wanted to take in the move. It was going to be a challenge to keep this house nice and tidy for potential buyers—for the unexpected call from a real estate agent eager to show it at the drop of a hat. Mattie Sue helped some by arranging her own toys on the shelves in her room.

Hen whispered a prayer of gratitude. They were a family once again. And Brandon had kept his word and unplugged the TV, spending his free time with her and Mattie Sue. He’d also let it slip that he’d visited a small country church where Bruce and his wife had recently started attending—one not far from Hen’s parents’ house. So, at least one of the Sundays while he was staying at the Dawdi Haus, Brandon had attended church when Hen had assumed he and Bruce had gone to the office to work. Her husband was certainly full of surprises!

As always, Rose enjoyed going to the Thursday morning quilting bee. And the next day, she spent time working side by side with Mammi Sylvia to hand-dip dozens of candles. Since keeping extra busy helped pass the time, Rose baked several loaves of bread, taking some to Barbara, as well as to Annie Mast. Annie seemed quite pleased she’d stopped by, which gave Rose a good opportunity to see the twin babies, Mary and Anna, already nearly two and a half months old. Rebekah Bontrager had stepped away from the stove, where she was preparing supper, to visit a bit with Rose, as well. Rose enjoyed the pleasant time of conversation with both women. Rarely did she see Annie at Preaching anymore, since the weather was simply too cold to risk bringing the babies.

By Saturday afternoon, Rose had also visited Mamm twice in her new location, enjoying the fact it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to see her now. Rose had even made a family visiting chart so they wouldn’t cluster up and wear Mamm out. That way, there were certain days for each of them to visit, which gave Mamm something to look forward to. Dat seemed equally pleased with her idea and pronounced her “an especially thoughtful daughter.”

Her father didn’t comment, however, on Rose’s best blue dress that she was wearing this Saturday evening. Although he looked mighty curious as he sat in the rocking chair near the stove, reading his Bible. “Have yourself a nice time, Rose Ann” was all he said when she walked past him after waiting and waiting for him to take his leave of the kitchen.

She hoped to goodness Isaac’s cousin knew better than to pull his car into the driveway. That would not go over well with Dat—much too brazen. And while it was fine to hire a driver to travel the busy highways, it was another thing altogether to go courting with a fellow whose cousin owned a car. Akin to grafting a maple branch onto an oak tree.

But Rose needn’t have concerned herself—Isaac’s cousin crept a healthy distance up the road, just far enough away that she had no fear of Dat’s or Bishop Aaron’s spying her getting into the sedan.

She was happy to see Isaac again. After they greeted each other and heard about each other’s week, Rose inquired about Leah Miller. “Is she still seeing your twin brother, maybe?”

“Oh jah, Jacob’s taking her to a youth gathering tonight,” he said.

This made her rather curious to know where Isaac had in mind to take
her.
Rose didn’t press, though, telling herself to be patient. It felt peculiar that his Mennonite cousin was merely the driver and didn’t have a girlfriend sitting with him while Isaac and Rose sat on either side of the backseat.
Like we have a hired driver.

When they pulled into the long lane of the farmhouse, Rose wondered if Isaac might at last reveal where they were going. But he said nothing, instead getting out and going around to open her car door. “Is it a Singing, then?” she asked as she heard the lively sounds of a guitar and a fiddle drifting out from the upper level of the barn. The fast music was altogether foreign to her but exciting nonetheless.

“There’ll be more dancin’ than singing tonight,” he replied quietly.

Rose fell in step with her new fellow, torn between anticipation and her own hesitancy. Surely Mose and Ruthann were not aware of Isaac’s more progressive leanings.
Ach, surely not!

The thought of Nick crossed her mind then, startling her. Would her old friend enjoy such a barn dance? Would he even know how to line dance? Dismissing the image of dark-haired Nick, she smiled back at her date, who slid open the barn door and let her in first, courteous as always. Immediately upon entering, he was recognized by a number of youth who waved and called, “Ike!”

Already there were so many teenagers crammed into the upper level of the barn, Rose felt almost too warm, despite the cold outside. During the first dance, Rose hung back, just watching. But Isaac was eager to teach her the different steps, showing her how to move forward in the line, do-si-do
,
and other easy maneuvers once he managed to get her on the floor.
Is this really so wrong?
she wondered, moving her feet ever so slowly to the rhythm of the guitar.

She was plumb out of breath by the fourth line dance, though not so much from physical exertion as from her own conscience. Was she pushing past the boundaries set by her baptism?

What would Dat and Mamm think?

But as the night progressed and the toe-tapping sound of the jamboree-style music became more familiar to her ears, Rose set aside her worries. Isaac’s flirtatious winks and infectious laughter nearly made her forget herself—and her guilt! She was actually sorry when the musicians ceased their playing and packed up their instruments for home, the evening at an end.

Outside, while they waited near the road for his cousin to meet them with his car, Isaac reached for her gloved hand. She was quite convinced he thought of her as his own special girl. And Rose rejected her earlier reluctance brought on by the line dancing and rambunctious music. No, she wouldn’t change anything about this wonderful-good night. Not a single thing.