Part 18 (2/2)
”I can try.”
”After all, the way to a man's heart can sometimes be his belly,” Barbara said, apparently trying to lighten things up. She reached for her plate of brownies and rose, carrying them to the counter. ”If it helps to know, I'll be prayin' for ya, Hen, dear.”
”That's kind of you. Denki.” Then, holding her hand over her trembling lips, Hen stood, grateful for Barbara's loving arms as she came to embrace her.
”That's all right ... you'll feel better soon. You just go ahead and cry, honey-girl.”
Hen's pent-up tears flowed freely now - she felt overwhelmingly sad because she knew Brandon would never budge. There was not a smidgen of hope for that. In some ironic way, she'd trapped herself in no-man's land, by choosing a way of life and love she could no longer reconcile herself to.
The worldly English life smothers my spirit . . . and I'll never be able to join this one, Hen thought, stumbling miserably up Salem Road.
Rose was surprised how much better her leg felt Wednesday morning. She was glad she'd gone to get help from Old Eli, though he was not a medical doctor. His therapeutic ma.s.sages and herbal concoctions had gone a long way in helping her family through the years, as well as many others in the community. And Mamm, too.
She was ready and waiting when Nick arrived with the bishop's family buggy. Still using Dawdi's cane to steady herself, she shuffled out the back door and down the walkway. Nick hopped out and came over to walk close to her.
”I don't need to be carried today,” she said, laughing.
He followed her around the buggy and stood there watching her struggle to get in. ”So, ya think you're doin' fine on your own, then?” Now he was chuckling.
”Just be still.” She smiled. ”And give me a little boost on my gut foot,” she added, anxious to be back to normal again. Once she was settled inside, she realized how very sore she still was.
”Are ya up to ridin' tonight?” he asked when they were out on the road.
”Not sure I can manage a horse well enough,” she admitted. George could sometimes be rambunctious, although she loved the horse all the more for being so.
”Well, if it would help, we could ride Pepper together,” he suggested. ”I'd be careful hoisting you up.”
”Let's see how my leg's doin' later. Maybe I'll be able to take George on my own.”
He fell silent suddenly and turned his head away to look at the other side of the road.
”What's wrong?”
”Nothin'.”
”You looked awful disappointed.”
Nick nodded slowly. ”Just tryin' to please the bishop.” He sounded glum and sarcastic. ”He's eggin' me on to spend time with ya.”
”Whatever for?”
Nick shrugged his shoulders.
”You're makin' this up, ain't so?”
He looked surprisingly serious. ”No, Rosie. I'm not kidding.”
She pondered this while they rode in the buggy, beset with the idea their bishop would want his unbaptized boy spending time with her. ”You can't mean he wants us to be more than friends,” she said quietly, still puzzling this over.
”He didn't say that, no.”
”Well, what, then?”
He paused and glanced at her, then away. ”Even if he did want us to court, you've already given your heart away, jah?”
She stared at him. ”How on earth would ya know that?”
”So, I guess I'm right.” A flicker of a frown crossed Nick's ruddy brow.
True to the People's age-old tradition, she was not going to reveal what she'd agreed to with Silas. ”Just because I left with someone after Singing doesn't mean anything,” she spouted back.
”No need to holler'bout Silas Good.”
She shot him a quick look but decided not to bother with a response.
”By the way, I'll come over and fix up that porch.” He motioned toward the Browning house, his tone suddenly more conciliatory.
She nodded abruptly, unsure now why she'd felt so upset with him. ”I'll tell Mr. Browning to expect ya.”
”Tell him I'll be there first thing tomorrow.”
Rose didn't wait for him to come around and help her down. Instead she inched carefully out of the buggy, making sure she was ready to land on her good leg. But she slipped and landed unsteadily all the same, and Nick was there just in time to catch her. ”Denki,” she said, stepping back quickly, not waiting for him to say more. ”Can ya pick me up around eleven o'clock today?”
”Only if you go ridin' with me tonight.”
”To please the bishop.”
”It'll please him no end.”
Rose limped up to the front porch, considering again what Nick had said about the bishop. Supposedly, she thought as Nick circled the lane and headed out with a mocking wave of his hand.
Whoever heard of a man of G.o.d encouragin' such a thing!
While Rose washed the week's worth of dishes, she listened for sounds overhead, thinking surely the young woman she'd seen on Monday was upstairs somewhere. Might she still be asleep? She'd heard from Hen that some English folk slept in late.
She looked over at Gilbert Browning, who was reading a magazine. Every so often he glanced at her, which she found curious. Peering down the hallway toward the back door, she wondered if there was another access to the second floor, and if so, where it might be. She'd cleaned the back hall and small bathroom nearby enough to know there wasn't a second stair there. As far as Rose knew, there was no other way upstairs. The reason Mr. Browning plants himself in the doorway ...
The man's odd habit annoyed her greatly, and it was all she could do to keep from asking right out to see the girl he was hiding.
Going now to sort through the papers on the kitchen table, she came upon a few pieces of mail. She turned her back to Mr. Browning while furtively glancing through. Rose noticed a utility bill, a receipt from the nearby general store for two spiral notebooks, and a letter from Arthur, Illinois, addressed to Miss Beth Browning.
”Beth?” she whispered. ”Is that the girl I saw?”
Rose finished redding up and quickly wiped down the counters, wondering again if Beth Browning was Gilbert Browning's daughter. She'd appeared young enough to be just that. Yet if that was the case, why hide her?
Rose measured out some rolled oats, cinnamon, baking powder, sugar, and salt and mixed them together. Her employer liked a hearty oatmeal, and it had been a couple of weeks since she'd made her favorite baked oatmeal recipe with pieces of apple, cinnamon, and walnuts.
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