Part 29 (2/2)
Though she tried, it was impossible to erase the image of Christian's broken body upon Barbara's long table as he lay there, bleeding. Or Nick's strange demeanor - his unevenly chopped hair, his face wracked by shame. She suspected Christian of forcibly cutting off the ponytail, inciting Nick's long-simmering rage. With all of her heart, she hoped what followed had been an accident and nothing worse. Yet ... the two had been enemies from the very first day of Nick's arrival.
When Rose lay down to sleep that night, her dreams were shrouded in darkness.
The next day, Nick was gone. ”Disappeared in the night,” Dat told Rose, his face as grim as ever she'd seen it. ”Left his Amish clothing behind ...”
”Will the police find him and arrest him?” she asked.
Dat shook his head solemnly. ”According to the bishop, they already talked with him last night - and several neighbors, too. But no one saw or heard anything unusual, so in the end, they believed Nick was tellin' the truth.”
Rose felt her breath escape her. ”Do you believe he's innocent?”
Her father hesitated. ”We might never know for sure, Rosie. But it's not our place to judge. Nick's soul is in G.o.d's hands now.”
She trembled at the thought.
The rest of the day, she felt as heavy as a bale of hay. Rose slogged through her ch.o.r.es, keenly aware of Nick's absence. The hours pa.s.sed in a haze of grief. Surely Christian's untimely death had been an accident, just as Nick claimed.
Still, as much as she cared for him, the rumors were spreading. Soon there were more than a few fingers pointing at the boy who'd never embraced their culture - his hasty disappearance seen as the most damaging proof of all.
All the years of their friends.h.i.+p ... had Rose ever really known him? To think she'd come that close to Nick's beloved ”edge,” and nearly fallen into the chasm, right along with him.
Following Christian's funeral Wednesday morning, Rose and Hen walked to the burial service in the fenced Amish cemetery. The bishop and his wife were surrounded by their married daughters and sons-in-law, all ashen with sorrow.
The hole that had been dug for the newly built coffin was filled halfway with dirt before the men removed their hats and the preacher read a hymn from the old hymnal. Afterward, the grave was filled with the remaining soil. Christian's mother nearly fainted when it was time to take leave of the mounded earth, and Verna's husband, Levi, quickly steadied her and helped her back to the gray carriage.
So this is grief. Rose could not imagine what Bishop Aaron and his family were experiencing. My own anguish is nothing compared to theirs, she thought as cl.u.s.ters of families slowly returned to their buggies. Several headed up the road, back toward their homes, while the bishop and his extended family walked silently to their own farmhouse for a private meal.
”The bishop lost two sons in the s.p.a.ce of one day,” Hen whispered to her as they walked toward home together. ”His only sons ...
”One from this life, the other to the world,” Rose managed to say, feeling awfully conflicted. In the short span since Christian's pa.s.sing, she'd had plenty of time to think. And to reconsider, too. She missed the Nick she knew, but she was also relieved he was gone from their midst. Wasn't it best? After all, he'd rejected everything that was good and n.o.ble ... each of the valuable life lessons he'd learned from the bishop. He rejected G.o.d, Rose realized anew. And at what cost?
Even so, despite Nick's stubbornness, part of her wanted to believe the Scripture he'd heard had not fallen on unfertile soil. Or deaf ears. She prayed that Nick might one day understand fully the reason he'd been handpicked to be brought up as an Amish Christian. Surely there was still hope for him.
As they walked, Rose glanced at Hen. The Lord seemed to be calling her sister to return to Him. Hen gave her a sad little smile and reached for her hand. Rose was glad for her sister's comforting touch at such an unspeakable time. Thankful, too, she hadn't had that final conversation with Nick, as she'd originally hoped. Best to just push that out of my mind, she thought, wondering how Nick could possibly find any happiness now ... wherever he ended up living.
Rose sighed. Truth be told, there were moments she wished she'd never known him. And yet, how could she forget him? Indeed, she must continually remember him in her daily prayers.
She thought back to the afternoon in the ravine and shuddered. Nick had given her the freedom to choose - nearly impossible as that choice had been. Despite that, perhaps the time Nick had spent amongst them could be deemed providential, just as his leaving was, as well.
Solomon could envision a hot meal and an invigorating shower. This final October day had seemed longer than most as he had finished up baling corn fodder. Still, there was another good hour or so before supper.
He wandered outside and across the long expanse of pastureland to look in on his bishop neighbor, mighty worried for him. Since Christian's death, the bishop's ruddy face had turned as withered as some of the shriveled grapes that still clung to the vine. The poor man was carrying the deepest kind of grief a soul could bear.
A father shouldn't outlive his son, thought Sol as he pushed open the bishop's barn door. He was surprised to hear Rose Ann's voice. Moseying over the cement floor, toward the stable area, he could see her tending to Nick's favorite horse, Pepper. She was currying him nice and slow, making long, steady strokes - talking to him all the while, though Sol could make out but a few words.
”Nick would want me to look after ya,” she was saying.
He was struck by her remarkable tenderness. Why hadn't he comprehended it before? Had he been too distracted by Nick's fondness for Rose to pay close attention to Rose Ann herself?
With a great sigh, she stopped what she was doing and leaned over to caress the horse's mane, crying softly now. It startled him to witness such raw emotion, no doubt intended for a fellow who wasn't worth giving the time of day. As we now know ...
Solomon's bearded chin quivered suddenly. The last thing he wanted was for Rose to notice him there, struggling to keep his own feelings in check. Turning silently, he headed back toward the barn door and shoved it open again. He stepped into a shower of the sun's dusty rays and made his way to the big farmhouse where ungrateful Nick had put his feet under the bishop's table ... and heard the Good Book read each night. Where he learned about almighty G.o.d at the knee of our bishop, thought Sol, shaking his head in dismay. But what he learned just never took.
Thus Solomon consigned the worldly young man to the judgment he seemingly deserved.
Rose was perched on her bed that early November night, still wearing her brown choring dress as she tatted a doily - a birthday gift for a cousin. Suddenly she was startled by a light whirling over the window gla.s.s.
Could it be ... ?
She hastened to open the window, almost expecting to see Nick there. Peering down, she saw Silas below. Her heart fluttered in unexpected wistfulness. It wasn't her old friend after all.
”Hullo, Silas,” she said softly.
”Will ya meet me downstairs?” His voice was restrained.
She nodded, her heart beating ever so fast. ”I'll be down in a jiffy.” When she greeted him at the back door, Silas asked if everyone was asleep.
”All but me,” she whispered, scarcely able to speak.
”Gut, then,” he said, stepping inside. Together, they made their way to the woodstove, where the metal box stored a few chopped logs. He leaned down to add another couple pieces of wood, then waited for the fire to brighten.
They sat side by side on the long kitchen bench, making small talk for a while - about the weather and the youth activities centered around the numerous weddings to come.
After a time, Silas rose to stir up the fire again before returning to her side. ”I've been waitin' a long time for this day,” he said, his eyes reflecting the firelight. ”This night ...”
She listened intently, memorizing every word.
He reached for her hand, and the feel of it made Rose's pulse leap.
”Will ya have me, Rose Ann,” he asked, ”as your husband?”
She did not hesitate, not even for a moment. She said, ”I'd be pleased to marry you, Silas.”
He leaned forward, eyes searching hers as if to see whether she'd permit him to come so close. Then, with great tenderness, he kissed her cheek. ”You've made me mighty happy, Rose.”
She knew she must be simply beaming. ”And me, too,” she whispered.
”We'll wait till our wedding day to lip-kiss,” he said, his gaze fixed on her mouth, then her eyes, and back to her lips.
”Probably should, ain't?” she said, now holding her breath, dying to know what it would feel like - his lips on hers.
Pulling back, he drew a long breath. ”Jah,” he said, though reluctantly, and raised her hand to his lips instead. ”We best be waiting.”
Rose smiled, enjoying this surge of pure delight.
”My father asked me to take over his dairy farm,” Silas added. ”He'll likely be ready for us to live in the main house, once we tie the knot, possibly next wedding season.”
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