The Thorn (38 page)

What had gotten into him, using her two names? He never referred to her like that. He was starting to sound like one of her father's uncles - sharp-tongued and without regard for her feelings. Even so, she refused to argue. Nick was smarter than he was letting on about her and Silas. Goodness, they were on the threshold of engagement. Surely he suspects ...

The descent grew steeper, and the horses had to pick their way around large boulders, then slow even more as they moved near treacherous outcroppings. "Did ya come here last weekend, when you were gone overnight?" she asked.

He laughed. "You're just dyin' to know, ain't?"

"Well, I hope you didn't sleep in the brambles and thorns."

"We're almost there," he coaxed her and the horse. "Keep on Comm now.

Once they'd made the difficult passage through the thick underbrush and heavily treed areas where the rock face was more dangerous, Nick stopped and got off his horse. He gave Pepper a cube of sugar and led him to the creek to drink. "Go over there, Rosie, and look behind that boulder." He pointed behind her.

She dismounted and went to see what Nick was talking about. Leaning behind the enormous stone, she reached down and felt something hard sticking out of the mound of earth. It felt like a tree root petrified over time.

Then, peering down, she cried, "Can it be?" She saw the grimy silver top and pulled the object up out of the mesh of leaves and twigs. Caked with debris, it was her mother's long-lost money tin. "I can't believe this!"

Nick stood between Pepper and George as both horses drank from the creek. "I found it Wednesday night, when I was down here, ridin' alone."

"Well, how on earth?" Lovingly, she removed the leaves and pieces of mud as best she could.

"I was sitting right where you are, and my flashlight rolled back into the crevice behind me. I started fishing around for it and bumped into the hard tin and realized something was lodged in there."

"What do ya know ... after all this time!" Holding the tin box, Rose sat on the stony ledge and pried open its rusty top. Her heart was pounding as she looked inside and saw the dollar bills and coins her mother had placed there so long ago. "Won't Mamm be surprised?" she said, looking up at him. "Oh, Nick! Denki, ever so much." She set it down and went to him. "You knew how much it would mean to me to find this. Thank you!"

He chuckled, looking at her hair. "You look like me, all schtruwwlich without your Kapp."

She raised her hands and felt the loose strands of hair. "Ach, goodness."

"That's all right. Ya look gut, Rosie."

She smiled up at him. "Denki again for findin' Mamm's tin box."

"I said you wouldn't be sorry."

"It's a family heirloom. She'll be so happy to have it back."

"But how can ya take it home?"

"Well, why not?"

"Think about it - you can't say you've been down here, now, can ya?"

She moaned. "You're right. They'd never expect me to come here by myself."

"They'd suspect you were here with me," he said. "And the bishop or Barbara might've seen us ridin' up the road together earlier."

Rose was torn now, because she couldn't show her mother or take the tin and the money safely home again. She could not even tell Mamm she'd found it. And if word got out to Silas's father, or to Silas himself, who knew what might happen? "Guess I have no choice but to leave it here." She felt like crying.

"It's just like everything else, Rosie."

She raised her apron hem to dab at her eyes, listening. "What is?"

He looked at the boulder, his gaze rising up the steep ravine. "We can't be honest and show anyone what we know. Or how we feel."

What do you mean? she almost said, but she knew. She knew all too well. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"We have to hide our feelings behind a boulder, like that tin box. Keep them hidden away like Mr. Browning kept his daughter a secret out of fear." Nick looked into her eyes, pleading. "Come with me to the modern world, won't ya, Rosie? For gut."

"Leave the People?"

"We'll disappear before dawn." He reached for her hand.

She hesitated, shocked by his request. "What are ya sayin', Nick?" She stared at him, aware of the ache in her throat.

"We've known each other nearly all our lives. I know how you are with me. I saw you lookin' my way when your cousins were talkin' and flirting with me at Singing. Aw, Rosie, I know you care for me."

"Sure, I care, but ..."

"What?" His eyes urged her to continue.

"I belong to . . ." She stopped.

Nick took both her hands in his and drew her near. Her cheeks felt too warm, and a strange feeling nearly took her over ... like the night they rode Pepper together. "It's always been you, Rosie. Always."

She felt so horribly confused in his arms. "But ... we're just friends!"

He nodded. "The best kind of friends, jah. I'm the one who's listened to you talk a blue streak since we were kids. I know you better than anyone. Come away with me. We can live in Philly."

"But that's where you long to be." She shook her head. "My life is here."

"Shh. Just listen." He cupped her chin, his eyes searing hers. "Think ahead twenty years from now," he whispered. "Who do you see yourself with?"

How dare he ask me this!

"Think, Rosie ... whose wife are you - and are ya happy?"

"Nick, don't." She pulled away.

"Please, just let me have this moment - the two of us together." He caressed her cheek, then pressed her face gently to him. She felt the rise and fall of his chest. "Not a single day goes by that I don't think of you - us - this way. I can hardly wait to see you every afternoon. And I remember each place we've ever explored together."

Oh, she could rest in his arms for always, embrace this strange, exuberant feeling. Yet Rose felt wicked for even thinking she should allow herself this pleasure.

But he'd said it himself: They truly were best friends! "I do care for you, Nick."

"Then come with me," he said again. "It's that simple."

Rose searched his eyes, this familiar face she'd grown so accustomed to. A long moment passed between them, and in that span of time, she felt it, too - she wanted to be with him, to be where he was. How many years had she cherished their friendship? Nick was the one she'd run to first when she had something to share.

Her heart was beating much too fast. Was this how Hen had felt with Brandon? Her dear, dear sister, who'd thrown her life away for the world? She thought also of Beth's father, who'd rescued his daughter from a boy who would surely have taken advantage of her innocence. Was Nick any different from either of them? Could she trust her heart to him?

No, she thought. This is just like the books I read - it's not real!

"It wouldn't be right," she said at last. "I can't go with you."

Nick drew a slow breath. Her heart was breaking for him, for the rejection he must feel. "Then I'll stay here and join church."

"No, you'll never be happy unless you take the kneeling vow for the right reason. I see you livin' your life for the bishop, miserable day in and day out. I can't let you do that for me ... for the rest of your life. I won't." She stopped to brush back tears. "Besides, I'm sure you must know - I belong to Silas Good. I'm his steady girl."

Nick never even flinched - he simply refused to acknowledge what she'd said. "I know you love me, Rosie."

If that's true, what kind of woman falls for two men? She shook her head.

Nick leaned down to kiss her forehead, her cheek. "Have you saved your lips for your beau?" His voice was raspy, his breath near.

She kept her head bowed. " 'Tis best, jah."

He sighed audibly. "I loved ya first...."

Rose knew in her core this was the last time she could ever show him any depth of affection. Raising her hands to his shoulders, she stood on tiptoe and gently kissed his face. It was wet with tears.

He reached for her so quickly, it took her breath away. She yielded to his strong embrace, thinking of poor Beth Browning, who'd loved and lost when her father had intervened. "Daddy says it was for my own good," Beth had told her in a quivering voice.

What would my father say if he saw me now? Rose wondered.

"I'm leavin' the Amish." Nick's dark eyes shone with resolve. "If I can't have you, I don't want to stay." He sighed again, his head resting on hers. "I couldn't bear it."

"How soon?" Rose asked.

He shuddered and released her. "When the time is right."

Their eyes locked; Rose stepped back slightly. "Then God be with ya, Nick Franco."

"And with you, my sweet Rosie."

Sunday morning, Hen held Mattie Sue's hand in the long line of women and girls who waited to enter the deacon's house for Preaching. She was filled with a great sense of joy to be attending church for the first time in years. It seemed like longer than five years since she'd heard the old Ausbund hymns or listened to the sermons.

Looking now at Mattie Sue - beautiful in her blue dress and white apron, her Kapp atop her head - Hen wondered how her little girl would manage the nearly three-and-a-half-hour service. Hen had already decided to sit close to the back, if she could, not being a member anyway. A good choice for Mattie's first time.

Once the line moved and she was indoors, she saw a space on the wooden bench beside Arie Zook, who was holding her infant son and had her three-year-old daughter, Becky, with her, as well. The women sat in one section of the long room, facing the men and boys, the age-old way. Hen fought back tears during the familiar Loblied. She had not forgotten either the words or the tune and joined her voice in joyful praise to her heavenly Father, trying to forget the many Sundays she had not kept the Lord's Day holy, or acknowledged it with reverence in even the smallest way.

As she looked around, she was reminded that being in attendance was significant for even the elderly folk, three of whom sat in rocking chairs, too feeble to sit on the hard, backless benches. Seeing Mamm perched in her wheelchair next to Mammi Sylvia touched Hen deeply, and as the ordained men offered testimonies, she committed anew to following the code of conduct of this, the church of her birthright. Bowing her head, she prayed silently that God would guide her and Mattie's future. Was it His will for them to remain indefinitely within the protective confines of the People?

She thought of Brandon and wondered if being a father to Mattie Sue might not eventually turn his hardened heart toward the Lord. Oh, for his sake - and theirs - she prayed it would be so.

She embraced not only the hymns but also the time of prayer, when the People turned to kneel at their seats. Quietly, she thanked God for this wonderful opportunity to worship with others of like faith.

Later in the service, when both Mattie Sue and Becky became restless, Arie took out a clean white hankie and made twin "babies" in a handkerchief cradle to entertain them. Then she undid the cloth to start over again, silently showing the girls how to roll the "babies" while five-month-old Levi slept peacefully in the crook of her arm. By the time the second sermon was finished, Mattie Sue was able to do it on her own.

Hen, meanwhile, attempted to focus on the orderly worship service, which struck her as exceptionally meaningful. How long would she have waited to return if Mattie Sue hadn't been born? Was it purely because she'd become a mother that her heartstrings were tugged toward home?

After the final prayer, Hen and Arie had an opportunity to sit and chat. After being shushed repeatedly during the actual service, now Mattie Sue and Becky were permitted to talk, as well. Hen expected Mattie to tell Becky about Wiggles, but she was more interested in baby Levi. "Can I have a baby brother, too, Mommy?" she asked, startling Hen.

Hen's eyes met Arie's and the two women were at a loss for words. Soon, though, the two little girls were busy playing again with the white hankie.

Hen sighed with relief.

"We'll have you and Mattie Sue over for dinner real soon," Arie said, adjusting a cover-up as Levi began to nurse.

"Can we go to their house, Mommy?" asked Mattie Sue.

If we stay around long enough, Hen thought.

"We'll have fun," little Becky babbled in Deitsch, and Hen had to translate for Mattie Sue.

"Jah," giggled Mattie Sue. Hen's daughter wriggled on the bench, sneaking glances at Arie's cover-up.

She's never been around a nursing baby, Hen realized, thinking yet again how different Mattie Sue's childhood had been from her own.