Part 2 (2/2)
”There were plenty of leftovers,” she replied gently. ”You could've heated up something.”
He rose from his chair and stood there, scratching his head. ”Look, Hen, I don't get it. I really don't.”
She was slow to speak. ”What do you mean?”
”You're never here anymore.” He stared at her, no pain in his eyes. It was more of an accusation.
”Never? I'm almost always home.”
”Before these past few weeks, sure. But now?” He ran both hands through his crop of hair. ”And what's with the Amish bonnet for Mattie?”
”It's just the one worn outdoors, not the sacred Kapp.”
”Hen, c'mon ... what exactly is sacred about any of that backward nonsense?”
She opened her mouth to speak but didn't. They were getting nowhere. And she needed more time to let her thoughts simmer deep in her heart, where she would know how to answer him eventually.
”Really, hon,” he said. ”You left that life behind, remember?” Looking tired, Brandon wandered to the refrigerator, pulled out a can of soda, and popped open the lid. He took a long swig before giving her a sideways glance. ”So ... where have you been all day? Is something bothering you?” Surprisingly, his tone was softer.
”I'm fine,” she muttered. Truth was, the only time she felt this crazy pressure in her chest was when Brandon fired questions at her.
”So you're not going to say.”
She ignored him and put the pickles back in the fridge, relieved when he returned to the breakfast nook - deep into the abyss of his work, which was rarely finished. Always, more time was required to finish this project or start the next. She was surprised he'd even noticed her absence.
At least he's home with his work and not at the office all hours. Her friend Diane Perlis's husband was hardly even home. Behind his back, Diane referred to him as a workaholic. Thankfully, Brandon's unfinished tasks could be taken up after hours in the comfort of home, so Mattie Sue could see her daddy. See him but not interact much with him, especially not during the week.
Hen heard the patter of feet in the hallway. ”Ready for my bath, Mommy.”
Moving away from her modern kitchen, Hen didn't look over her shoulder at the confident land developer she'd hopelessly fallen for at age twenty-one. What a charmer he'd been! She had never known what being swept off your feet could possibly mean until she met Brandon. And she'd savored every minute of it.
Where did we go wrong?
She scooted her daughter along the hallway, toward the main bathroom. ”Let's get you into the tub, munchkin.” She was getting better at putting on a playful tone ... becoming more accustomed to s.h.i.+elding Mattie Sue from the truth. It was in her blood to keep grown-up issues behind closed doors, to force her voice into submission and be as sweet as Brandon had always said she was. Until now.
She closed the door to the attractive bathroom, complete with a corner shower and a separate soaking tub, and let a sigh escape.
”Can you pour in lots and lots of bubbles?” Mattie asked.
Hen nodded and leaned down for the pink plastic bottle beneath the sink, her smile still plastered on her face. No need to spoil Mattie's bath time.
”Does Auntie Rose put bubbles in her bath, too?” Mattie Sue's wide blue eyes blinked up at Hen.
”What'd you say, honey?”
”Auntie Rose ... does she like bubbles, too?”
The phone rang loudly. ”Just a minute, sweetie.” Hen opened the door and looked back at her unclothed daughter, who was cautiously pointing her little pink foot into the water. ”Don't let it get too high, all right?”
Mattie nodded her head slowly, transfixed by the mound of billowy bubbles.
”I'll be right back,” she said. Brandon despised the phone ringing when he was working. Rus.h.i.+ng to the receiver, she answered, ”h.e.l.lo, Orringers.”
”May I speak to Brandon?” came a stiff-sounding male voice.
”Who's calling, please?” She knew better than to bother her husband at this hour for a phone solicitor. She had to know for sure who was on the line. ”Is he expecting your call?”
”He is, in fact. I'm returning his.”
”Just a moment.” Hen hurried to the breakfast nook and covered the receiver with her hand. ”A man ... for you.”
You sure it's not a solicitor? he mouthed silently, and she a.s.sured him the caller had some business with him.
Brandon reached to take the phone from her. Moving away from the room, she heard his opening response and realized the caller was someone connected to his brother's law firm in Lancaster.
Some legal ha.s.sle, she guessed.
Hen made her way to their bedroom, distantly aware of the sound of running water. Suddenly fatigued, she sat on the neatly made bed and leaned her face into her hands. She stared at the carpeted floor and relived the first time she'd met Brandon - his irresistible eyes and winning smile. Her memories pulled her back to the past.
That February had brought with it a biting cold. Winter had hung like an icy curtain around her father's barren farmland as Hen hitched up the driving horse and headed to visit her dearest friend, Arie Miller. Arie was heartsick over her beau's sudden interest in another girl, and Hen wanted to cheer her up.
Several hours after Hen's arrival at the Millers' house, a steady snow began to fall, coming in large flakes. In a short time, the storm turned to blinding swirls and a harsh wind roared down over the dark hills near the Millers' stone farmhouse. By the time Hen was ready to start out for home - down the gently curving road leading through the old covered bridge, near Jackson's Sawmill - the snow had become an old-fas.h.i.+oned blizzard. The two buggies that pa.s.sed her on the road were mere dots of gray in the vicious current of white.
After some time of merely walking the horse, Hen could no longer see well enough to keep going. She reined the animal off the road, disoriented in the whirl of white and wind. She feared she might become stranded in the dangerous storm - might even freeze to death. 0 Lord, guide me safely home, she prayed.
Minutes later, Brandon Orringer had arrived in his red car and pulled onto the drifting shoulder. An immediate answer to her prayer! He got out and trudged against the wind and snow, right up to her carriage, asking if he could help. He'd saved her that day by guiding her slowly through the blizzard as she trotted the horse close behind his blinking car lights. And, months afterward, she believed he'd rescued her from the tiresome, ordinance-laden life she'd dreaded, as well.
A G.o.dsend, Hen had thought at the time. Even though there had been plenty of nice Amish fellows interested in her during those years, none of them was half as intriguing as Brandon - and none of them had come along to save her from a terrifying storm.
”Be careful what you wish for,” Brandon had once told her soon after they'd met. Despite that, Hen had cherished their unlikely relations.h.i.+p and attempted to keep pace with his lightning-speed ways.
When Hen considered it now, the short length of their engagement - a mere seven weeks - actually stunned her. Yet no one could've steered her away from Brandon if they'd tried. Not even her own mother, who was completely in the dark about her plans to marry a worldly boy ... at least until it was too late. Hen's eyes had been fixed on the goal of wedlock outside the church, as far away as she could get. And she'd let Brandon know it, too, in every way that mattered to him.
With a shudder, she threaded her fingers through her shoulderlength hair, remembering all the years she'd worn her hair in the Amish bun. She raised her head to stare at her wedding photograph on the dresser. Posing for the camera was another rule she'd broken during the very year her younger sister - and near shadow - had obediently made her vow to G.o.d and to the church.
Being happy was all I cared about. She remembered the delirious days and weeks of first love - fully believing she was cut out to be an Englisher. She'd told Rose this privately in their bedroom. Rose, poor thing, hadn't known what to make of Hen's rash insistence, especially with their mother ailing so. Mamm was as helpless as the rag dolls Rose sewed for their many young nieces.
Hen had never forgotten the look of astonishment she'd received when she told dear Rose she wouldn't be joining church with her that September after all.
”I let my sister down,” Hen whispered now. Looking at herself in the dresser mirror, she arched her back to better see her face and hair ... the worldly makeup, too. ”I let everyone down....”
Mattie Sue called to her, and she hurried into the hallway. She'd lost track of time. Pus.h.i.+ng open the bathroom door, she found her daughter's little head peeking up from the bath, encircled in sparkling bubbles.
”Honey - what on earth.. .”
”I'm having fun,” Mattie said, a small bubble clinging to her long eyelashes. ”Sorry, Mommy. I turned off the water soon as I remembered, honest I did.”
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