Part 12 (1/2)
She had chosen her own way.
And now here she was all these years later, missing home more than ever. The memories and yearning had welled up and overtaken her until Hen could scarcely think of anything else.
Why can't Brandon understand?
It was impossible to brush their disagreement aside. But for tonight it appeared that Brandon had done just that. Hen rose and went into their s.p.a.cious closet to find the letters she'd left out earlier. While she sorted through them, Brandon finished his shower and slipped out to the family room. She heard the TV on now and decided to steer clear of him. Let him think about what she'd said - what they'd said to each other....
The tension between them could be felt across the house, and for the first time since they'd married, Hen hoped her husband might just sleep on the sofa again.
Settling down on the floor at the foot of the bed, she sat in her long cotton nightgown and read several of Arie's letters. It was hard not to compare her past friends.h.i.+p with Arie - who was happily married, according to Rose Ann, with three little ones already - to Hen's present relations.h.i.+p with Diane, who was altogether disgruntled with marriage and vowed openly that, now that she had one child, she was done having babies. ”I never want the ha.s.sles of another newborn.”
There were other differences between the two women, especially the way each viewed relations.h.i.+ps. Diane, for instance, was just as quick to discard as to collect. Hen had noticed this with some degree of trepidation a few short months into their friends.h.i.+p. If Diane disliked your politics or thought you were closed-minded, she immediately brushed you off. No second chances with her. Hen had seen her do that with several work friends right before Karen was born.
Arie, for her part, had never been one to collect friends. She didn't seem to need more than one or two close relations.h.i.+ps in her life. And for all the years she and Hen were best friends, Arie said she needed only Hen to confide in - until Hen had betrayed her, as she called it.
Hen sighed and opened another letter. Truth was, she'd pushed Arie into an impossible corner, where the only thing she could do was avoid Hen.
She heard Brandon changing TV channels, making more noise than was necessary. A frightening thought crossed her mind - what if her own husband rejected her?
Unable to consider such a thing for more than a fleeting second, Hen returned to reading Arie's encouraging letters - some written the year Hen was sick with a long-lasting flu. Others were penned the winter Arie and her family went by train to visit her mother's cousins near Sarasota, Florida, in a tiny village called Pinecraft.
Hen leaned down to lie on the floor, propping herself up on one elbow to continue reading. She missed her Amish friend terribly. She wished she could talk to Arie tonight. She felt lost and quite alone, even here in the bedroom she and Brandon had created as a haven against the world. Why couldn't Brandon comprehend what had happened to her when Mattie Sue came into their lives ... and into her arms? Hen merely longed to impart the wisdom of the ages to her darling little girl. Why was that unacceptable?
Will I always regret my decision to marry outside the church? The awareness that she felt regret startled Hen. Yet wouldn't all this fussing and fretting come to an end if Brandon simply allowed her what she wished for - a chance to work at Rachel's Fabrics, and more contact between Mattie and her Plain relatives? If he'd just be more flexible and open to the idea that good, simple living had something to offer her and Mattie - to all three of them - they could resume their previously happy relations.h.i.+p.
She glanced at the lamp table and saw her Bible tucked beneath the second shelf. How long had it been since she'd read it? She remembered years of reading aloud to her mother, confined in her wheelchair.... Oh, the joy the Scriptures brought to Mom, easing her pain in a way that Hen could not fathom. Whenever her mother couldn't sleep, she prayed. No doubt her mother was praying even now.
Hen took comfort in the thought and returned Arie's letters to the box.
Suddenly she got the idea to write to Arie. The desire had crossed her mind numerous times in the past five years, but never had she been as anxious to act on it as tonight.
She rose and found her stationery and best pen, then went to the small oak desk in the corner and began to write.
Dear Arie, Please don't dismiss me before you read this letter. After seeing you last Sunday at my parents' house, I've been thinking about our friends.h.i.+p. I know I hurt you with my choices. I hurt myself, too.
You were such a big part of my life, Arie. I realize this more each day. And I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday.
There are parts of my former life I still miss. I long to be around Plain folk again, and I've taken a job at Rachel's Fabrics. I'm really hoping you might stop by the shop sometime to see me. I'd love that!
I miss you, dearest friend.
With love, Hen Rereading her letter, Hen realized anew how impulsive she'd been to marry. How ironic that impulsive was just what Brandon had called her. And now she must do her best to keep her yearnings for the Old Ways at bay, or she'd spoil their marriage. There was disgust in Brandon's eyes whenever she argued for a renewed connection to her Plain life. Amish culture - and faith - had never held any appeal for him.
The fact that he still hadn't mentioned her new job surprised her. Was he a pressure cooker, ready to explode in frustration? Until recently, he'd never said a harsh word to her, but then, she hadn't provoked such a disruption in their lives till now, either. Though none of this is on purpose. Hen was torn right down the middle of her soul.
She folded the note to Arie and addressed the envelope. Then, going to the kitchen, she located a stamp in a small drawer, as well as a return address sticker. She stared at it as she pressed the words onto the envelope: Mr. & Mrs. Brandon Orringer.
Hen belonged with her husband. No longer was she Sol Kauffman's little Amish girl. It was essential that Hen make a greater attempt to please Brandon - to try to make her unfulfilling English life a happier one for them both.
Somehow, I must.
Rose was startled to hear the click of a stone against her bedroom window Sunday evening. Fully dressed for the Singing, she had been walking back and forth in her room, thinking of Silas. Would he ask her to ride afterward?
Going to the window, she raised it and looked down to see Nick standing there with his flashlight s.h.i.+ning on his face. ”What're you doin'?” she asked.
”Christian's takin' his buggy over to the deacon's,” he said. ”You can ride with him, if ya want. Unless you have another way.”
Typically, brothers took their sisters to Singings so the girls were free to ride home with a beau. Always before, Rose had ridden with one of her married brothers, if they were going that way. Never once had she ridden with Christian Petersheim. ”Are you goin'?”
”No.”
She wished he would, but she wasn't surprised at the answer. ”You never know who you might meet there,” she urged. ”It could be fun.”
”Well, I'm sure not ridin' with Christian.”
”Borrow the bishop's buggy, then - I'll ride along with ya.”
Nick shook his head.
”Have it your way, then. Tell Christian I'll be right down.” Rose felt bad for Nick as she closed the window. Heaven knew that if she couldn't persuade him to go, no one could. In all truth, he was as unpredictable and stormy as their autumn weather.
By the time Rose ran outdoors to catch up with Christian, she was surprised to see Nick still walking slowly up the road. ”You should be getting your own courting buggy sometime soon, right?” she said.
”Puh! What for?”
”Well, so you can spend time with a girl you like. You'll never find one till you look.”
He gave her a scrutinizing stare. ”What are you so happy about?”
”Oh, I just haven't been to Singings in a while, is all.” She folded her hands, glad she'd worn her mittens on this chilly night. Since Nick didn't have a sweetheart-girl, Rose didn't want to mention Silas Good. Didn't want to be rude ... or sound all puffed up because she had a date and he had no one.
He walked with her to the turnoff to the bishop's lane. ”Well, so long,” he said and kept going.
”Good-bye.” She glanced back - his shoulders were slumped and his head hung down. She chided herself for not being more gentle. Surely he was still brooding over his mother's pa.s.sing. Oh, if only he could find it in himself to go along tonight! He shouldn't be alone when he felt so low.
Nevertheless, Rose hurried to hop into Christian's open buggy. ”Denki for the lift,” she said as she climbed in to sit at his left.
”Nick thought you needed a ride.”
”Jah, my brothers have pretty much given up on me goin' to Singings anymore.”
”You can always get a lift with me,” Christian said.
She looked over her shoulder. ”Why do ya think Nick doesn't care to go?”
”Have you ever known him to care about anything?” Christian held the reins and clicked his tongue to get the horse moving.
”Jah, he cares 'bout a lot of things. Don't you realize that?”
This brought a guffaw from Christian. ”Aren't you s.p.u.n.ky!”