Part 14 (2/2)
The girl made a frightened sound, then scampered off. Rose was mystified at the way she stumbled so awkwardly from the kitchen to the stairs, reaching out to balance herself along the wall before grabbing for the banister. Is she sick - dizzy, maybe?
Rose went to the door again and tried the k.n.o.b, but it was locked. Still baffled, she walked around the side of the house to the back door, thinking it might be open instead. It, too, was locked.
So someone is living upstairs. She inched away and headed out to the lane now, toward the road. When Rose was halfway down the short stretch between the house and the road, she turned back and saw the same girl at a dormer window on the third floor.
Why the attic?
She waved to the anxious girl and felt a wave of sadness, then great hesitation. ”I'm goin' to help you, little bird ... whatever's wrong,” she whispered. ”I promise.”
To Rose's amazement, the girl raised her hand in a half wave and held it against the windowpane for a moment, then slid it slowly down, as if she yearned to be made free.
Following her impromptu visit to the Browning house, Rose walked along the road, unable to erase from her mind the frightened face of the girl in the kitchen. It was hard to think of anything else.
There were a few dried cl.u.s.ters of wild flowers in the roadside ditch, and she recalled the way the little bees nestled down in the rose petals last summer, hiding in all the curls and layers. Might the girl at Gilbert Browning's be hiding away of her own accord, as well?
The days were moving quickly away from the lengthy, busy days of summer. Wedding season was just a month off. She wondered if either of her two engaged first cousins - Lydiann and Esther - might ask her to be one of their attendants. She hoped both girls didn't pick the same Tuesday or Thursday to wed. She simply could not choose between them.
Feeling the sun on her face, Rose knew there were nearly three miles yet to go, if she followed the roads and didn't cut through cornfields. She was glad she'd worn shoes instead of going barefoot as she often did at home, till the first frost.
Walking briskly along the gra.s.sy slope near the road, she heard a crow caw-cawing overhead. She looked up and promptly lost her balance, stumbling forward, and just that quickly, her leg buckled and she tried to catch herself, instead falling hard onto a rock with her right knee. A jagged pain shot through it as she cried out in pain.
She lay there in the ditch, not moving, gasping for air. Then, managing to collect herself enough to sit up, Rose slowly raised her skirt to inspect her leg. Her knee was all banged up, and an ugly bruise threatened. Her entire leg was throbbing now as she tried but failed to stand up.
Falling again, Rose wondered how she was ever going to get home. She began to crawl, dragging her leg, determined to get back onto the shoulder of the road. Maybe an Amish neighbor would see her and give her a ride. Mammi Sylvia would know what to do, she thought, wis.h.i.+ng her loving grandmother were here right now. The stinging pain in her knee was relentless, and tears p.r.i.c.ked her eyes.
Oh, but she wasn't a crybaby! She must be as brave as dear Mamm had been in the ravine, lying there conscious but unable even to pull herself out of the rugged area to get help. Thank goodness for whoever found her, she thought now, praying that someone might also happen along for her soon.
Overhead, large clouds were building in the distance, and lightning flickered. She could only hope, selfishly, for a heavy downpour. Then the men filling silo might halt their work and head home for a while, perhaps seeing her there on the road.
As the minutes slipped by and Rose inched forward, she was more determined than ever to keep moving, lest she still be creeping along by nightfall. Yet the searing pain in her knee took her breath away, and she had to sit to rest. She stretched out her legs and rubbed her swollen knee and the muscle below it. If she weren't in such pain, she would consider cutting through the fields to home. The distance was much shorter, only a little over a mile. But there was no way she could make her way through uneven cornfields like this.
Then, as if in answer to prayer, she saw a market wagon rumbling down the road toward her. The horse, of all things, looked like Pepper! Could it be Bishop Aaron or Christian?
She moved farther into the road, so the driver might see her and stop. She was a bit surprised to see Nick perched atop the wagon, holding the reins.
Immediately steering the horse off to the side of the road, he stopped and jumped down. He ran quickly to her and knelt beside her on the ground. ”Rosie ... what happened?”
”I fell,” she said, starting to cry. ”Ach, silly me.”
He didn't ask what she was doing so far from home on foot. He simply scooped her up into his strong arms and carried her to the wagon. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling terribly self-conscious this close to her friend.
Nick set her down gently on the wooden seat. ”You want to stretch out in the back instead?” he asked, standing over her anxiously.
”No, I'll make a spectacle of myself.” She could just picture people staring and wondering if she was half dead.
He dashed around to the driver's seat. ”I'm headin' to Quarryville to pick up some tools for the bishop. I could drop you by the Amish doctor's.” He glanced at her before reaching for the reins. ”Or do ya want to go right home?”
”Might be best to take me to Old Eli's, jah,” Rose managed to say, feeling dizzy. The Amish doctor would know if she needed more help than he could give.
Nick signaled Pepper to move forward. After they were on the road for a short time, he looked at her every so often as though he wasn't sure she was going to be all right ever again.
Nick was fairly quiet on the ride to Quarryville, but at one point he asked what Rose had been doing clear down there, near Jackson's Sawmill Covered Bridge. Clasping her knee, she explained that she'd gone to spy on Gilbert Browning's house. ”I actually saw the girl - the one you and I saw in the second-story window Wednesday night.”
”A girl, you say?”
”A teenager, I'd guess. She was down in the kitchen.” Rose told him how she'd called through the window repeatedly. ”I wanted so badly to talk to her.”
Nick looked surprised. ”Did ya?”
”Oh no. She was scared of me and ran right out of the room and up the stairs.” She paused to catch her breath and felt a surge of renewed pain. ”'Tween you and me, I think she might be slow in her mind.”
”Like Samuel's Abe?” he asked, referring to the deacon's special grandson.
”Come to think of it, very much like Abe.” Rose remembered taking care of Abe recently while looking after Mamm, too. She'd seen Nick seek out young Abe, as well, after Preaching services during the common meals, or when the boys played cornerball and other outdoor games after corn-husking bees and whatnot. Abe always looked comfortable talking to Nick.
”There's just somethin' about Abe,” said Nick. ”He loves horses, 'specially Pepper.”
”Jah, and he likes standin' right up close to your horse to pet him.”
”Well, it ain't my horse.”
”Might as well be.”
Nick chuckled and raised his left hand like he was about to reach over and touch hers. Instead, he reached again for the reins.
”Bein' near the animals seems to help him.” Nick began to talk about the Fresh Air Program, which allowed some disabled children to spend summers with a farm family. She'd heard about the program from folk involved with the seasonal foster care.
As they pulled into the driveway leading to the Amish doctor's place, the sky looked ready to open up in a deluge of rain. Rose felt the first few drops on her head as Eli Stoltzfus's house came into view. ”Oh, just in time,” she whispered, hoping to get some relief from the pain.
”You goin' to be all right?” Nick looked at her sympathetically.
She smiled faintly. She'd never seen him so caring, without a hint of his usual teasing.
He stopped the horse and jumped down to the hitching post, his ponytail jerking. Then he hurried around to lift her out of the wagon and carried her to the back door. There he stood with her in his arms, unable to ring the doorbell. He called through the screen door for someone to come and help.
”I feel so dappich - clumsy,” she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.
”Just hold on to me. We'll get you better right quick.”
A young woman came and opened the door. ”Oh, dear girl, what happened to ya?”
Nick explained that she'd fallen along the roadside and followed the nurse inside. In the first available room, he lowered Rose onto the examining table, then awkwardly backed away, lingering only briefly to say he'd return for her within the hour.
”Denki, Nick ... so much,” Rose said. Then she leaned back into the fresh pillow the kindly woman tucked beneath her head.
Struggling to keep her emotions in check, Hen pulled the car out of the driveway. She knew better than to look too long at the pretty little house she'd always loved - mine and Brandon's. And she certainly hadn't known what to tell Mattie Sue as she loaded their suitcases and several large boxes filled with toiletries, mementos, and her Bible, too. Hen had already taken the liberty of packing all of Mattie's dolls, toys, books, and art supplies into the trunk. She'd also included the materials for the quilted wall hanging she was making, as well as Mattie's pillow and favorite comforter and matching sheet set. In short, she'd packed everything she thought her daughter would miss ... as well as the things Hen most cared about, including Brandon's and her small wedding alb.u.m. She did not take any family pictures off the wall, nor remove the large framed wedding picture from the dresser. Those would have been too obvious to Brandon.
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