Part 7 (1/2)

Soon it was determined that both Lucy and Mammi Sylvia were indeed winners, and the other tables continued to play while these two tables shuffled cards and prepared to play again. Meanwhile, Rose dismissed her suspicions as ridiculous.

Even so, when the card games commenced again, Rose could not keep her mind on the game. Her thoughts turned toward a book she'd read years ago, when she was just a girl. She'd forgotten the t.i.tle, but the childish story was about a pony named Misty who was content to graze the pastureland by day, but who broke through the fence each night to gallop wildly across the windswept moors.

If the rider was Nick, why'd he ride past so boldly? she wondered again. Is he so brash, he doesn't care if he's caught?

Her questions went around in her head during the mystery meal: lettuce, carrots, biscuits, sliced tomatoes, cheese, chicken, strawberry Jell-O, brownies, and ice cream. Of course, the one who got the most items correct earned an extra brownie!

Even so, the jumble of thoughts did not let up even as Rose turned the carriage toward home, oblivious to Mamm's and Mammi's chatter, or to the rain now making down. She fretted over the possibility Nick had been on that horse. Might he have been seen by someone who would tell the bishop?

And what about Lucy's jitters over the Browning house? Haunted, she called it!

Rose wondered what Silas Good might say about either subject. He seemed like a level-headed sort of fellow, and she yearned to get to know him better. She wished she hadn't been so slow to accept his invitation for tomorrow evening. Hopefully she hadn't given him the wrong idea. She was eager to see him again - and to join the other youth in their festivities, as well - but she felt so disconnected from all that had gone on these months. What would it be like to go back now? Could Silas help Rose make sense of her life and her future? Truly she wished for far more than what she woke up to each morning. Ever so much more!

That afternoon, Rose Ann saw Nick over near the goat pen. She waited until she was certain no one was around to approach him, then took the letter from her pocket and held it at her side. ”Any chance you might have an errand to run yet today over near the Goods' farm?”

Nick shrugged. ”Maybe ... why?”

”Here.” She pushed the folded envelope into his hand. ”Would ya mind putting this in their mailbox?”

”What for?”

”It's a letter, silly. If I send it by regular post, it won't reach the recipient in time.”

Nick unfolded the envelope and read the address. ”To Silas?” He paused. ”Awfully forward, ain't?” He frowned as he studied her.

”He wrote me first.”

”Well, why?”

”None of your business. Just make sure you get it over there before suppertime, jah?” Rose said, ready to return to her outdoor ch.o.r.es.

Nick shrugged. ”I'll see 'bout that.”

She groaned, then gave him a good look. ”You're just pullin' my leg, ain't? You'll take it over, won't ya?”

”Say 'perty please with marshmallows and cream,' ” Nick said, scowling. But there was a twinkle in his black eyes.

”I'll say nothin' of the kind!”

He chuckled. ”Well, then, you'll just have to hope I can be trusted.”

It was her turn to shrug her shoulders and smirk back. Rose knew Nick well enough to be a.s.sured that he'd do her bidding. He always did.

By Sat.u.r.day, Nick's demeanor had turned as gray as the tattered work coat he liked to wear. Rose greeted him cheerfully all the same before she set to work freshening the bedding straw for the new foals, not bothering to attempt conversation. Back and forth, suns.h.i.+ne and shadows, this was Nick's pattern. On such days, she'd learned to just let him be.

She fed and watered the half-dozen goats Dat had taken to raising recently. Her father spent most of his afternoons in the shop, where he built all kinds of wagons - market wagons, bench wagons, pony carts, and the like. The bulk of his work was commissioned by neighbors in the church district. For those who were strapped for money, he might either charge a small fee or, occasionally, none at all. His generous nature was well known far and wide. Dat believed the Lord would supply his family's need if he was openhearted to those who were less fortunate.

Rose wished her father's manner might yet influence Nick. This day, however, Nick worked in close proximity to her without ever making eye contact. Rose's own spirits were high as she worked and talked gently to the beautiful new foals, stroking their silky manes ... her hopes and dreams set on seeing Silas Good again.

Tonight!

Once the sun had slipped below the western hills, Rose managed to leave the house unnoticed. Wearing her best blue dress and white ap.r.o.n, both nicely pressed, she draped a long black woolen shawl over her arm and headed down the lane, toward the main road. She'd taken her hair down to brush it thoroughly before pinning it up again, wanting to look extra nice for Silas, who would also be wearing his for-good clothes for their Sat.u.r.day-night date.

He'll probably get nominated for deacon or preacher by the time he's thirty, she thought, turning onto Salem Road, her arm brus.h.i.+ng against her skirt. Even Dat would say Silas is cut out to draw the divine lot someday.

In a few minutes, she should see his pretty chestnut mare and open black buggy. And Silas himself, blond, tall, and handsome as any fellow she'd ever known, standing on the shoulder near the carriage, waiting just for her.

She willed her heart to slow its beat. Fondly, she recalled her first ride home from a Sunday Singing with Silas, just last year. He'd seen her home a few times after that, but she'd been so haphazard about attending the youth activities this year, she was still a little surprised he hadn't found himself a steady girl by now. Am I to be that girl?

A horse and buggy pa.s.sed by just then. The carriage was filled with children, some perched on their parents' laps, others loaded into the back. Rose wondered what it would be like to be blessed with so many children. As a young girl, Rose had played with baby dolls until she was altogether certain Mamm would think her too old to do so. Oftentimes Rose would wait till the gas lamps were all blown out before secretly retrieving her dolls from her dresser drawer. Quietly, she tucked them into her bed, whispering to them after her silent bedtime prayers.

But Rose hadn't been able to hide her fondness for dolls - or young children - from her only sister. So when Mattie Sue was born, it broke Rose's heart to think she wouldn't see her new niece very often. She'd never forgotten how it felt to hold darling Mattie hours after her birth - Rose had gone with Dat and Mamm that once to the hospital. The touch of a baby's grip on her finger was unforgettable.

Oh, that she might someday be a good and kindhearted mother to her own little ones! Next to being married, this was her dearest hope. Perhaps belonging to a large family accounted for her desire for many babies. She wondered whether Hen and Brandon would have more children, or if Mattie would remain an only child, like Nick had once been. Rose could not imagine being so alone ... nor would she ever wish it on anyone.

The sight of Silas at that moment caught her almost off guard. The blond bangs that peeked from beneath his straw hat s.h.i.+mmered like gold in the moonlight, and he beamed an enthusiastic smile as he moved toward her, taking her hand as he helped her into the carriage. ”Rose Ann,” he said, like a special p.r.o.nouncement. There was something exceptionally nice about the way he said her name.

When they were settled together in the seat, Silas lifted the reins and clicked his tongue. The horse pulled them slowly forward without the slightest jolt, reminding Rose that Silas was a masterful carriage driver, among other things. He could easily handle a team of eight field mules, too. Although Silas had never spoken with her about the details, she knew from the grapevine that he was set to take over his father's farm. And she thought he would be a good and honest farmer, as well as a wonderful husband and father.

”I received your letter yesterday,” he said. ”But I didn't see a postmark.”

”Hand delivered,” she replied quickly.

”It was awful nice.” He smiled, tall next to her in the buggy seat. ”Denki, Rose.”

She smiled back, careful not to sit too close, so as not to b.u.mp him while he held the reins. She wanted to be as ladylike as Silas's own sisters.

Being proper with a young man while courting - not like the tomboy Rose had been in her younger years - wasn't something Mamm had ever discussed with her. Despite the years of being apart from her sister, she'd gleaned what she could from Hen, who had been attended to by several nice Amish boys before Brandon came along. These days Mamm was more interested in reading the Good Book or having it read to her than she was in the mysteries between a beau and his girl. The pain Mamm endured doubtless occupied the majority of her thoughts, and though she tried, Mamm could not hide from Rose the grimace or sudden catch in her breath as she reacted to it without complaint.

If only more could be done for her ...

Rose breathed in the cool night air, thankful Silas had invited her. ”Thanks for mentionin' my mother in your letter,” she said into the stillness.

”My sister-in-law Naomi says she heard your mother can't tolerate any type of pain medicine.”

”That's true ... sadly. It unsettles her stomach.” She wondered how much she should say. ”Poor Mamm just grits her teeth when the worst comes.”

Silas shook his head slowly. ”Must be terrible for her. And you, too.”

She wondered if he had responded in that way because of mere sympathy. Or ... was he thinking about their future as a couple, and Rose's concern for her mother's care, perhaps? Oh, she could only hope!

On the other hand, she didn't want to be foolish and jump to conclusions. There was the real possibility he was simply making polite conversation. After all, Silas was the most well-mannered fellow she'd ever known, with an upbringing that was an example to many. Silas's grandfather, Reuben Good, had become so well integrated into his adopted Plain community that most folks soon forgot he was ever an Englischer. His many children, including Silas's father, Reuben Jr., were devoted to the Lord G.o.d and Das alt Gebrauch - the Old Ways. Other than Silas's family, Rose knew of no other Goods who were Amish in all of Lancaster County. There were some who were Plain, but none were Old Order.

They traveled for another stretch of road before Silas asked, ”How would ya like to spend part of the evening at Jonathan and Naomi's place?”

”Sounds nice.”

His married brother and sister-in-law had invited them for a game of Ping-Pong and homemade ice cream one other time. Rose had so enjoyed that visit, especially because they had the dearest twin boys ever. She had helped Naomi by dressing one of the twins - she wasn't sure whether it was Leroy or Davy - in his homemade sleeper. To think the boys had just turned three last month, and like some twins, they talked in their own made-up language. Rose had gotten a chuckle out of seeing the two of them conspiring together at the common meal following Preaching service. No one, not even their mother, could understand them.

”I wonder if the twins will still be up,” Rose said quietly.