Part 16 (1/2)
Dawdi clapped his hands for Mattie Sue to come and sit on his lap. ”Both of yous look real gut, I'll say,” he added.
Hen hoped Mattie wouldn't blurt out that they'd piled their belongings in the car. Not before Hen could talk to her father. Mattie crawled onto Dawdi's lap, content to play with her greatgrandfather's suspenders and to tickle his long beard. Hen was embarra.s.sed when Mattie Sue asked if she could wear his hat.
”Why, sure ... if I can find it,” he said.
”Now, Jeremiah, she oughtn't be wearin' your hat,” Mammi Sylvia piped up.
”Ah, don't be so superst.i.tious!” he snapped.
”Why, Great-Grandpa?” asked Mattie Sue.
”Downright silly, 'tis,” Mom said. ”That's what.”
Hen smiled as a great sense of belonging filled her. She remembered where she was the very first time she'd heard the saying that putting on a man's hat meant you wanted a kiss from its owner. She had been very careful which young man's hat she'd picked at one particular barn party, years ago.
”I'll show ya what it means, little girlie,” said Dawdi, who planted a kiss on Mattie Sue's cheek.
Mattie's eyes widened. Then she asked, ”Can I have a b.u.t.terfly kiss, too?” She giggled in Dawdi's arms.
”Well, hold still now.” Dawdi leaned his face close to Mattie's and fluttered his eyelash against her cheek.
”Do it again!” came the childish plea.
Mom offered a sweet smile through pained eyes, and Hen leaned back in her chair, absorbing the serenity of the house. Ah, peace at last, she thought, wis.h.i.+ng there was a way to share with her husband how truly wonderful she felt here.
Rose sat beside Nick in the market wagon, relieved the morning's events were past. As they rode, she pondered what Nick had meant earlier by saying he'd had a feeling she was in trouble. There had been one other such time he had shown up and helped her out when she didn't see how he could've known. Like certain twins, she thought.
Shrugging off the peculiar notion, she asked if he might be able to go over to fix the railing and paint the front porch at the Browning house soon. ”It's an eyesore.”
”Once we're done fillin' silo, I can,” he said.
”Gut, I'd appreciate it.”
He smiled. ”If you think it needs doin', then I'll see to it.”
”Aren't you cooperative today?” she teased.
”Aren't I always?”
She had to laugh. ”Not with that poor tourist you weren't.”
”But didn't you see what he was doin'?” Nick was suddenly red-faced. ”He wouldn't stop taking your picture. He deserved to lose his camera.”
It was impossible not to think of Reuben Good just then. ”Well, I don't think the tourist thought it was necessary.”
”What do I care?” Nick shot back.
”And Reuben ... wasn't he a bit startled?” She looked at Nick, whose countenance changed before her eyes.
”Let Silas's father think what he wants.” He hissed Silas's name.
She stared at him, completely astonished.
”What're you lookin' at?” he muttered.
”Just forget it.” And all the way home, Rose wondered how soon before she would hear, through the grapevine, about Nick's misdeed in Quarryville today.
Even though he did it on account of me ...
Rose could kick herself for not watching where she was walking earlier - and falling like that! And she fumed at Nick's reaction to the scolding from Silas's father. Any other G.o.d-fearing Amishman would have said the same.
When they made the turn into Dat's driveway, she saw Hen's car parked near the back sidewalk, and something sank in her. She must've groaned inadvertently, because Nick asked if she was all right.
”Hen's here again.” This can't be good!
”She must miss you.”
Rose held her peace, not wanting to reveal her concern.
Nick was just as careful helping her out of the wagon as before, but this time she didn't wrap her arms around his neck, fearing she might give someone the wrong idea. Especially if Hen's watching ...
As Nick carried her past the car, she could see inside the front seat to her sister's overnight bag. It was the same one Hen had packed with forbidden cosmetics before she'd run off and married Brandon. Was Hen coming home to stay?
She stiffened as Nick made his way to the back porch.
”What's wrong?” he asked.
Rose shook her head, not saying. Besides, Nick didn't need to know what she thought of Hen's being unequally yoked to an outsider. After all, Nick might actually find it comical, considering they were such good friends. . . and Nick wasn't a church member, either.
Hen heard the market wagon come rattling into the driveway, and Mattie Sue ran to the window. ”Oh look, it's Auntie Rose!”
Mammi Sylvia stretched her neck to peer out. ”That's odd. We thought she was comin' home on foot.”
”Nick's there, too,” said Mattie Sue, das.h.i.+ng to the back door to greet them.
”Ach, that boy.” Mom shook her head. ”You would think he wished we'd taken him in back when, 'stead of the bishop.”
Mammi clucked and returned to her hand sewing. ”Now, Emma.”
”Well, isn't he round here more than my own sons?”
Hen stretched; she'd been feeling so mellow she might've fallen asleep right there. But she got up and went out to see Rose Ann, stopping at the screened-in porch. Mattie held the back door open for Nick, who was carrying Rose up the sidewalk, of all things. ”What happened to you?” Hen exclaimed.
Rose's face pinked with embarra.s.sment. ”I fell and hurt my leg.”
”Oh, you poor thing!” She followed Nick inside, where he set Rose Ann down slowly on the wooden bench next to the kitchen table.
Mattie Sue hovered near and reached to touch Rose's hand. ”You gonna be all right, Auntie?” she asked worriedly.
”She took a bad tumble,” Nick said, squatting down to Mattie Sue's eye level. ”Hit her knee on a rock alongside the road.” He looked altogether concerned while Rose explained how she'd fallen into the ditch.