The Thorn Part 30

Such wonderful-gut news! To think, in a year we might be wed. Oh, how bright and happy her future looked now. Silas squeezed her hand again, and Rose smiled into his handsome face.

Later, after he bade her a sweet and lingering farewell, Rose tiptoed back upstairs. When she'd put on her nightgown and let her hair down, she slipped beneath her mother's beautiful quilts. There, in the moonlit room, she whispered, "Sleep well, Silas ... and when you dream, dream of me, my dear beau."

The flame of suspicion about Nick's role in Christian's death - whatever it may have been - has slowly burned out in me, turning to ashes at my feet. And I am left with a deep Zeitlang - longing - to go on foot down Bridle Path Lane on this unseasonably warm November day.

Indian summer, Dat calls it....

And it's the official start of the wedding season. Esther Kauffman, my first cousin, just stopped by to whisper her appeal to me: "Please, perty please, be one of my wedding attendants." Since she asked me before Cousin Lydiann, I happily agreed.

Just maybe it was observing the alluring blush on Esther's cheeks that got me thinking about Nick again. He's been gone now for almost a month and no one's heard a word from him. The police questioned the bishop and his family shortly after Christian's death, but as is our way, no charges were pressed. There was simply not enough evidence anyway.

Even so, when Mamm and I sit and read together afternoons, sometimes she'll look deep into my eyes and say, "If you're ever tempted to feel sorry for that boy, Rosie ... don't. And remember he was never really Amish."

He knew it, too. I guess it does all boil down to faith. But for Nick's and my friends.h.i.+p, it was truly something else. Something ever so precious and free. I can't begin to describe it.

Hen continues to cling to her renewed walk with the Lord now more than ever. And here lately, Brandon's been writing her letters. He's apologized for showing Mattie Sue the puppy dog, then taking him away. Hen's actually thinking of taking Mattie Sue to see him - and Wiggles, of course. Far as I know, Brandon hasn't darkened the door of Hen's house since that supper she made for him, but she expects to meet him again for coffee sometime soon. So my sister's not giving up on their love ... or on swaying her husband toward G.o.d. And I am filled with a gnawing angst over the seeming loss of their storybook romance. Still, my parents say Hen belongs at home with Brandon, regardless of his spiritual leanings. Honestly, I look for Dat to impose a time limit on her stay here, and very soon.

Hen says Rachel Glick, her employer, has read between the lines, encouraging Hen to trust G.o.d to quicken a desire in Brandon for a peaceable Christian life. I think, as with Nick, Hen must realize it's up to her to relinquish her will - and Brandon - to the sovereignty of G.o.d. Because where G.o.d's presence is, all good things abound. I must remind myself of this daily ... especially where Nick's concerned.

Turning onto Bridle Path Lane, I walked along the dirt road, then picked my way cautiously down the side of the ravine, once I pa.s.sed Jeb's shanty. Carefully I inched over the steepest outcroppings, trying to avoid the brambles and thorns at every step. It would never do to slip and fall when no one knows where I've come this suns.h.i.+ny day - so similar to the sun-dappled afternoon Nick brought me here.

Dozens of birds sang and flitted in the canopy of trees as I made my way to the bottom of the gulch. I was after one particular boulder, and I walked right to it, eager to find Mamm's tin money box once again. Reaching into the crevice, I pulled it out and opened the corroded lid. I was surprised to see a note tucked inside atop the money.

Dear Rosie, I hoped you'd come here one day and find this note.

It's only right that you should hear this from me. I was stupid to go riding with Christian that day. And now, because of me, he's dead. I say let your G.o.d be the judge.

We never got the chance to talk one last time. It haunts me. But no matter what you must think of me now, dear Rosie, I will always miss you.

Your friend, Nick P.S. Will you look after Pepper for me?

Tears threatened to spill down my cheeks as I folded the note and placed it in my dress pocket. I rejected the visions of Nick shoving Christian off his horse - striking back as he sometimes did. Knowing Nick as I had all these years, I wondered how such a thing could've happened ... if it did. How will I ever know for sure? How will any of us?

I pressed the lid down on the tin box, a strange longing making me wish I could write a note back to him to tuck inside. But such a note would be seen only by G.o.d, down here in this deserted ravine.

Returning the tin to its muddy crypt, I covered it with the leaves of eleven autumns, a way to say good-bye to the past. "Help Nick find forgiveness, 0 Lord," I prayed, "but most of all, help him to find you...."

I struggled back up the small canyon, fighting back tears for what might have been ... if Nick had joined church. And for all the lost years of Nick's life with the People, for his rejection of the Lord, too.

I marched straight home and burned Nick's shocking letter in the woodstove. There was nothing I could do now to help save Nick. That was up to G.o.d alone.

Forcing my thoughts away from the past, I looked toward the future - the wedding attendant's dress I will sew and the many dried-corn ca.s.seroles I plan to bake for Silas. This is to be the very last winter of my singleness, and there is much to do to prepare for setting up my own household. So, quite happily, I look forward to becoming Mrs. Silas Good one year from tomorrow, on Thursday, November twentieth. The dear Lord willing.

I was delighted to discover Salem Road and the overall setting for this series just southeast of Quarryville, Pennsylvania, in the autumn of 2009, while visiting my mother's family - and thanks to the kindly suggestion of one of my dear Strasburg friends. My husband, Dave, and I enjoyed exploring the oldest graveyard in all of Lancaster County during that visit, as well, and I stumbled upon the strikingly beautiful name of Rose Ann, as well as the Amish nickname of Hen, while doing my research.

But it was the picturesque and rugged ravine below Bridle Path Lane that enthralled me most, and I remember getting out of the car and creeping over several boulders to peer down the heavily treed slope to the narrow creek below.

Dave snapped many pictures while I had my little adventure. My imagination soared as the setting for Emma Kauffman's mysterious horse and buggy accident sprang to life. The secluded area would also become the spot where Nick reveals his true intentions toward dear Rose Ann.

The lovely sun-dappled setting seemed to demand the birth of a story - a trilogy, no less. My heart and mind were also gripped by idyllic Farmdale Road, as well as scenic Cherry Hill Road, and Hollow Road, which runs through the historic Jackson's Sawmill Covered Bridge. The whole of this rural farming area in one of the oldest Old Order Amish communities in Lancaster County truly sparked my creativity, and I am thankful G.o.d led us to this most captivating place.

Special thanks to Erik Wesner, Judith Lovold, and Hank and Ruth Hershberger.

As always, I am grateful for the support of my wonderful husband and our family, and for the remarkable people at Bethany House, who create strong links in the chain from story idea to bookstores, actual or online.

To G.o.d be the glory! Soli Deo Gloria.

BEVERLY LEWIS, born in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, is the New York Times bestselling author of more than eighty books. Her stories have been published in ten languages worldwide. A keen interest in her mother's Plain heritage has inspired Beverly to write many Amish-related novels, beginning with The Shunning, which has sold more than one million copies. The Brethren was honored with a 2007 Christy Award.

Beverly lives with her husband, David, in Colorado.

By Beverly Lewis.

THE ROSE TRILOGY.

The Thorn.

SEASONS OF GRACE.

The Secret a The Missing a The Telling.

ABRAM'S DAUGHTERS.

The Covenant a The Betrayal a The Sacrifice The Prodigal a The Revelation.

THE HERITAGE OF LANCASTER COUNTY.

The Shunning a The Confession a The Reckoning.

ANNIE'S PEOPLE.

The Preacher's Daughter a The Englisher a The Brethren.

THE COURTs.h.i.+P OF NELLIE FISHER.

The Parting a The Forbidden a The Longing.

The Postcard a The Crossroad The Redemption of Sarah Cain October Song a Sanctuary (with David Lewis) a The Sunroom.

The Beverly Lewis Amish Heritage Cookbook.

end.