The Judgment (38 page)

Authors: Beverly Lewis

BOOK: The Judgment

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God expects us to have that kind of devoted love for one another
, Rose thought, her eyes on the lights of home as she made her way down Salem Road. Hurrying now, she knew she must face whatever fallout might come from having declared so unashamedly her feelings for a man who was not her fiancé—and never would be.

Serves me right for being so foolish!

Rose turned into the long lane, walking toward the house, past the grapevines she and Nick had often pruned together. Woodsmoke trickled out of the chimneys of the main house and two smaller attached houses—one where her grandparents made their cozy home, the other where Hen was attempting to create a new one out of the ruins of her marriage.

Rose reached for the back door, realizing she could not live bound by fear. If her father, or even Silas, had happened upon the letter, then so be it.

She glanced behind her and looked up at the bright stars appearing one by one. One way or another, she must forge a new path. The thought of the New Year, just days away, gave her a measure of assurance.
An uncluttered slate before me.

After all these years, the truth concealed in her heart was out in the open—in the light—at last. And whether or not anyone would ever read the letter wasn’t a concern.

Perhaps Providence had permitted this to happen. Rose smiled at the thought, trusting in that. She must move ahead to do what she knew was right. The Lord would see to the rest.

Epilogue

I
f you’re ever lost, always look for the brightest spot along the horizon,”
my father used to tell my brothers.
“You’ll find a river there, which will lead you to people . . . to inhabitants.”
And Dat had explained that the light of the sky reflected in the river below.

There are times when I ponder such things in view of all that’s happened in these past months, though I’m surely not lost in a strange land. But I
am
on a journey, and sometimes it seems ever so long. Still, little by little, I’ll find my way with the help of my heavenly Father. I can never go wrong by clinging to His hand, Mamm always says.

And she ought to know! Dr. Robertson has nearly completed his tests, but the prospect of surgery next month seems quite
certain. When Mamm thinks about the possible wonderful-good outcome, her upcoming operation causes her great anticipation . . . and great apprehension, too. Yet who can blame her for being so torn? Surely it’s an enormous leap forward for one so reclusive and resigned to living a life of suffering. With all of my heart, I hope and pray the surgeon can lessen her pain. That is my dearest wish of all.

As for my daily work, when I’m not sitting with Mamm, I help occupy Mattie Sue’s time for Hen. And what an energetic little girl she continues to be! Hen certainly has her hands full caring for Brandon, who has transitioned better than expected to our life here, though he’s anxious to get back to what he calls “normal living.” When that might be, the doctors aren’t sure, as Brandon’s sight has yet to return beyond an occasional flicker of light. Each passing day is a real worry, but Hen is unwavering in her belief that her husband will see again. Amazingly, there’s no indication of anxiety on her part—she’s become a truly prayerful wife and mother. I just hope Brandon won’t break her heart when all’s said and done.

To give my sister and her husband some time alone, I take Mattie Sue with me on Thursdays when I work to make quilts and comforters for the Philadelphia homeless shelter with the womenfolk. Mattie Sue enjoys playing with the other children, often right near our feet under the frame. The talk is a strange blend of hearsay and solid information. And occasionally I feel a sense of sadness as I am continually reminded why the People were so quick to presume Nick’s guilt in Christian’s death. It seems not a soul ever really had the chance to know the sometimes-thoughtful Nick Franco the bishop’s wife knew . . . nor the softhearted, horse-loving
Kummraad—
friend—I came to know.

So then, which is the real Nick?

But my mother taught me that a friend never gives up on a friend. And this is the reason I privately beseech God’s mercy for Nick, who seemingly caused all this chaos, just as I ask it for our former bishop. As far as I know, there has been no further word about Nick, which is probably just as well.

Thinking of friends, Silas wasted not a speck of time asking Rebekah out, according to the flourishing grapevine. More than likely they are a courting couple by now. Annie Mast is helping see to that by giving Rebekah more evenings away from her baby duties than were originally planned. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Bontragers make a trip back here next autumn for a wedding uniting them with the Goods.

I can’t say that I’ll be distressed on Silas’s special day, because even now, I know I’ll be right happy for him. And for Rebekah, too. After all, when two hearts beat nearly as one, like theirs seem to, who amongst us should ever stand in the way?

So it is that I look ahead to my future with God’s help, joyfully trusting in whatever He has planned for me. And, really, considering the abundant blessings I’ve received from His loving hand, how can I do otherwise?

Author’s Note

W
hile the idyllic countryside around Salem Road continues to capture my attention, I am equally fascinated by the spiritual landscape of the people I write about, people so like my maternal grandparents, Omar and Ada Buchwalter, both born in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Their spiritual heritage has helped to shape my family . . . and my stories. In chapter 8 of this book, Rose Kauffman refers to the old German prayer book
Die Ernsthafte Christenpflicht.
Many readers will undoubtedly be curious about this clothbound treasure, which has long been dear to Anabaptists like my grandparents and other relatives.

That precious connection led me to compile a selection of excerpts from those very prayers in a newly translated edition just for modern readers. It is my hope that this volume, entitled
Amish Prayers
, might bless you in your life as richly as it has Anabaptist Christians, many of whom first said these prayers as persecuted believers in Europe over three hundred years ago.

On another important note, I offer my continual gratitude to my devoted consultants and research assistants who bring authenticity and great joy to my writing life: the Lancaster Mennonite Historical Society, Brad Igou, Erik Wesner, Carolene Robinson, Judith Lovold, and Hank and Ruth Hershberger. I am also thankful for the complete works of Donald B. Kraybill, John A. Hostetler, and Stephen Scott, as well as my good fellowship with numerous Amish friends who read my books and appreciate my desire for accuracy.

My longtime friendship and partnership with my editors—Dave Horton, Rochelle Glöege, and Julie Klassen—continue to enhance my writing life. “Thank you” never seems enough.

I pray each of my readers will embrace the grace and goodness of our Lord, and choose the path to peace and simplicity.

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 eleven 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

T
HE
R
OSE
T
RILOGY

The Thorn • The Judgment

S
EASONS OF
G
RACE

The Secret • The Missing • The Telling

A
BRAM’S
D
AUGHTERS

The Covenant • The Betrayal • The Sacrifice

The Prodigal • The Revelation

T
HE
H
ERITAGE OF
L
ANCASTER
C
OUNTY

The Shunning • The Confession • The Reckoning

A
NNIE’S
P
EOPLE