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first snowflakes would fall and cover the countryside with glittering layers of white. She and Brandon had enjoyed several such Thanksgiving Days just playing with little Mattie Sue, keeping warm by the living room fireplace . . . and watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
    Hurrying now against the cold, she arrived at the shanty. Promptly, before she lost heart, she dialed Brandon’s number. The phone rang once . . . twice . . . then three times. Each ring made Hen second-guess her resolve.
    After seven rings, she presumed he was gone from the house. Still, she let the phone ring a few more times. He’d never been interested in traveling to visit his family for the holiday, but she wondered if their recent separation had propelled him out of town to his parents’ place.
    The phone continued to ring.
    He might be watching football. . . .
    Eventually, she hung up and stared at the receiver, feeling drained, as if her very future hung in the balance before her. Dad was right. Isn’t he always? She should not have waited this long to contact her husband again, especially on a holiday.
    Heavyhearted, Hen pushed open the wooden door and trudged back over the stubbly field, toward the house. The rain had turned to a mist, and she hadn’t bothered to bring her black outer bonnet, or an umbrella. She thought of Mattie’s cute remark this morning about the “Amish umbrella.” Then, just as quickly, she sighed, sad about her daughter’s plight, torn between two parents—and two vastly different lifestyles. If Brandon follows through with his terrible threat.
    When Hen arrived at the Dawdi Haus, Mattie Sue was carrying around her favorite stuffed animal, a dog she’d named Foofie, with the sweetest brown patch over its eye.
    “Can I go over to Mammi Emma’s and read to her again before supper, Mommy?” she asked. Mattie Sue liked to pretend to read to her grandmother, which entertained Hen’s mother no end.
    “Sure, honey,” Hen replied vaguely, an idea forming. “Let’s see if maybe you can stay and eat there, too.” She’d heard that two of her brothers and their families were bringing food for her parents, to go with the roast turkey her grandmother was making—an informal Thanksgiving gathering, since they rarely made much of English holidays.
    Mattie Sue seemed happy at the prospect and began gathering up her books. She found her little woolen shawl and pulled it around her slender arms. “I’ll ask Dawdi and Mammi if it’s all right, jah?”
    “Be sure and mind your manners.”
    “Okay, Mommy.” With that, Mattie Sue stood on tiptoes as Hen leaned down for a kiss, and then Mattie Sue scampered out the back door.
    Suddenly, all Hen could think of was Brandon and how very foreign her life seemed without him in it. Could she bear to live apart from him the rest of her days? Tears welled up as she went to get her own shawl and wrapped it tightly around her. The notion crossed her mind that she might be better received—once Brandon did arrive home—if she wore the English attire he was so fond of. Something less Plain. After all, here she was looking completely Amish, something she knew very well he disliked.
    But now Hen felt as if she might fall into a panic if she didn’t get going. Besides, she’d left nearly all of her fancy English clothing behind.
    She hurried next door to see if Mattie Sue could indeed stay with Mom and Dad. Then, heading back out toward the barn, she realized she hadn’t driven her car for several weeks. She eyed the family carriage parked in the buggy shed and wished she could be true to her determination to take the horse and buggy whenever she traveled. At least this time, she would spare Brandon the sacred Amish symbol of horse and carriage, too.
    My cape dress and prayer cap will be enough to give him fits, she thought with chagrin, hoping it would not be so.
    Hen unlocked her car door and got in, feeling hardly any sense of hope that her visit might