The Thorn (10 page)

Staring at the picture of the three of them last spring, near their backyard forsythia bush, she wondered if some men, more than others, possessed a natural way with little ones. Her father came to mind. He had always been loving and warm, not as austere and rigid as some Amish fathers she'd known, including a couple of her own married brothers.

She remembered the first time Brandon had seen newborn Mattie Sue. He'd kissed her tiny peach of a cheek, tears sparkling in the corner of his eyes. "She's beautiful, honey. Our baby looks just like you." He'd kissed Hen, too, his tears wet on her cheek.

She smiled, the sweet memory lingering as she stepped into Mattie's colorful, cozy room. Soft pink and yellow floral designs adorned two of the walls, while the others were painted the palest shade of yellow Hen could find. Mattie was still sleeping, but a sunbeam peeked under one window blind and was spilling over her favorite dolls. Like a blessing, thought Hen, smiling sleepily as she sat on the edge of the small bed.

There were days, not so long ago, when she and Brandon had crept happily into this very room and stood holding hands, watching their darling girl in her slumber. Hen breathed slowly, recalling the times she'd asked to take Mattie to visit her Amish grandparents, only to have Brandon recoil as if he'd been slapped. "What for?" he'd asked when they were out of their daughter's earshot. "Aren't you finished with that life, Hen?"

He'd had every right to think that, given the joy she had exhibited on their wedding day ... minus any Plain relatives. Hen had lived to regret not having her parents or Rose there to witness their marriage vows. What had possessed her to shut them out, breaking their hearts? Months later, Rose had traveled by horse and buggy to try and find Hen's new residence and gotten tearfully lost in the process. "Didn't you want Dat's and Mamm's approval?" her sister had asked, astonished. But to Hen none of that had mattered then.

Now she reached down to pick up Mattie's favorite stuffed animal - a soft brown puppy with a white spot around one eye. Foofie. She placed the beloved toy on the bed near Mattie so her daughter could see it when she awakened.

Hen rose and shuffled back to the living room, still contemplating Brandon's night on the sofa. She picked up the afghan - the large, comfy throw made by her own mother, of all people - and folded it neatly.

If Brandon's this upset now, how will he feel if I get the job at the Amish shop?

The phone rang just as Brandon stepped into the house for supper that night. Hen reached for it as Brandon set down his briefcase to pick up Mattie Sue. "Hello," she answered, then was mortified to realize that Rachel Glick was on the line. Such bad timing!

Glancing toward the hall, Hen crept back to the master bedroom, listening as the fabric store owner chattered away, eager to know when she could start working. "I ... uh, I'll have to let you know," she said quietly, wishing now she'd mentioned something to Brandon sooner.

"Well, I'll be needin' someone by this comin' Monday," Rachel said in her Dutchy-sounding voice.

Almost more than anything, Hen wanted to say she could be counted on to be there bright and early. "Can I call you back tomorrow?"

Rachel paused, undoubtedly confused at Hen's uncertainty. "All right, then," she said. "I'll wait to hear from ya."

Hen thanked Rachel for her patience, not daring to reveal that her husband could very well nix the whole thing.

All during supper Hen fidgeted, thinking ahead to the conversation she needed to have with Brandon. She wondered, too, why the subject of last night hadn't been addressed. Why didn't he sleep with me? Fortunately, Mattie Sue was especially amusing at the table, which captured Brandon's attention and gave Hen a bit of slack.

She and Mattie were clearing the table when Mattie asked again if she could have a real puppy. Hen, too, was fond of dogs and had thought of bringing up the idea to Brandon at some point. But tonight was definitely not the best time to discuss buying a puppy, even if she knew where to get the pick of the litter. "We'll talk about this later, honey."

Mattie Sue was not to be put off.

"Karen's daddy is getting her one." Mattie's lower lip protruded. "Her mommy thinks she's old enough."

"I didn't say you aren't, honey."

Her daughter batted her big blue eyes. "Can't we get one, Mommy ... please?"

The whining and pleading were uncalled for. She and Rose had never carried on like this as youngsters. And if they had, well, her father - or Mamm, before her accident - would've nipped it right in the bud. More and more, the way Hen viewed her own childhood was evolving ... as was the childhood she now wished for Mattie Sue.

"Sweetie, go get your coloring book, please."

"I want to talk about the puppy," Mattie insisted. "And my crayons are all broken." She began to sob.

Hen refused to let her daughter get the best of her. She looked around for Brandon, thinking he might entertain her while Hen loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen. "Where's Daddy?" she asked, hoping Mattie might take the hint and go looking.

"Downstairs working." It sounded like wahking.

Hen wasn't sure when Brandon had slipped away, but with one quick look toward the stairs, she noticed the lights on in the family room. "Maybe Daddy will color with you," she suggested, although she guessed it was unlikely.

Mattie Sue plopped down on the kitchen floor and rubbed her fists into her eyes. "I really want a puppy. You'd get me one if you loved me...." she whimpered.

Hen folded the dishcloth and placed it on the counter. I won't tolerate this behavior, she thought, heading for the bedroom. Quietly, she closed the door and sat on her side of the bed. "Mattie doesn't know how to obey," she whispered. Brandon's and her permissiveness had produced a self-indulgent child with little respect for parents. Sure, Mattie was still very young, but when Hen looked at her daughter, she saw so little of herself. Hardly a speck of Christian rearing ... because of Brandon's worldly influence. And mine.

After a few minutes, Hen returned to the kitchen with new resolve, only to find that Mattie had taken her broken crayons and coloring book and gone downstairs after all.

After Mattie was comfortably tucked in for the night, Hen approached Brandon. Quietly, she sat at the breakfast table across from him, where he was having a piece of leftover pie. "Honey, can we talk?" she said when he looked up.

He put his fork down and folded his hands beneath his chin. "What's on your mind?" His light brown hair was mussed from raking his fingers through it. The soft blue of his eyes was faded, washed out from a hectic day.

The joy of having found the ideal job welled up in her, and Hen momentarily hoped he might be as happy as she was for herself. "I've been offered a job," she told him. "A really terrific one, Brandon."

A deep frown appeared on his face. "A job? You know you don't have to work."

She nodded. "But I need to."

A long silence ensued, and then he shook his head. "Are you bored at home?"

"Oh, Brandon ... no. I love taking care of Mattie Sue." And she did. "It's just that - "

"You're restless?"

She looked down at the woven tan place mat, working up the nerve to share her inner thoughts. It was much more than a restless feeling. "I guess so. And to be honest with you, I feel like a fake," she said in a near whisper. "I want to reconnect with my roots."

He cleared his throat. "Your roots? What sort of job are we talking here?"

"Rachel's Fabrics - there's an opening for a clerk. She wants me to start this Monday."

"Hen," Brandon said, shaking his head, "that's an Amish store, right?"

"I really want to work there."

"That's not possible."

"I can see why you'd think that, but - "

"No, it's completely unnecessary."

"What about how I feel?" she asked. "Don't you care how I feel?"

Brandon leaned forward on the table, his eyes steely blue and bright. "I really don't want you to get sucked back into that life, Hen. Remember how you felt before we were married? You were so done with being Plain - at least you convinced me you were."

She remembered all too well. But she wouldn't admit to having made a mistake in leaving, because marrying him was a big reason for that. And she did not believe their relationship was a mistake. "I married you because I love you, not to escape my Plain life, if that's what you're thinking."

He shook his head. "You felt trapped, Hen ... afraid you would be expected to help care for your mother. Afraid you wouldn't have your own life."

She suppressed the urge to cry. How dare he pull this out of a hat - the vulnerable thoughts she'd shared with her new husband a few weeks after they'd wed. "I didn't mean that I only married to get away from my family and my heritage, Brandon. You know better than that."

"Well, I can see where this is heading," he said more softly. "And I don't want to lose you to a life you despised."

Feeling all spent, she tried again. "The job's only part-time - a few mornings or afternoons a week." Their eyes locked. "Please, Brandon, can't I do this?"

"You mean until you get this out of your system?"

She couldn't answer; she felt so torn. She wanted to be completely honest, to share her concern about Mattie Sue's missing out on the simple gifts, the characteristics of obedience and kindness, generosity and tranquility ... all the lovely things the Amish taught their children. But it was impossible for him to understand. Besides, it was unwise to bring her assessment of Mattie's needs into the equation tonight.

"Look, honey ... you and I both know you're impulsive by nature. You run with what you want. You decided to go out with me on the spur of the moment - never blinked twice. You've lived your whole life like that."

"That's unfair."

He shook his head slowly, still looking at her. "But it's true."

"Maybe before Mattie Sue was born ... but I'm not that way now." Hen fought the lump in her throat.

His mouth twitched, and Brandon pushed away from the table. "It's getting late."

"Yes." She sighed, feeling desperately sad.

They looked at each other, the tension between them so strong it was palpable. Brandon was beyond peeved, and Hen felt helpless and terribly frustrated.

She rose and began picking up the house, straightening magazines and tossing out snippets of paper. She stacked up the mail scattered around the coffee table and watered her plants. Then she washed her hands to make tomorrow's lunch for her husband. Once that was accomplished, she looked in on Mattie Sue, who was sound asleep. Blissfully so.

Heading back to the master bedroom, Hen found Brandon already sprawled out on the bed, asleep. She reached for her robe on the back of the bathroom door, careful not to bump the oval mirror nearby. Staring at the small crack on its surface, she had never forgotten the disoriented bird that had caused it, flying into the bedroom a few hours before she walked down the bridal aisle. As terrible as having a black cat walk across your path.

Please, God, let me have a glimpse of the life I left behind. Don't let Brandon stand in my way....

Even before the rooster crowed the next morning, Rose Ann flung off her bed quilt and went to find her writing paper and a nice pen. Padding over to the windows, she raised the shades and looked out to the south, where the pastureland sat like a large blanket between the bishop's property and her father's.