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that he was.
    Rose took off her boots and pushed her toes into some old slippers she kept nearby during the coldest months. “I’ll help you finish cookin’,” she offered.
    First, though, she went over and touched her mother’s shoulder, still aware that Mamm hadn’t spoken or even raised her head. She smiled down at her. “You’re so quiet,” she whispered.
    Mamm blinked back tears as she looked up at her.
    “Mamm, are you all right?”
    Her mother smiled weakly. “Not to worry. I’m just pondering this passage.” She pointed to Galatians chapter six, verse two: Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ . “Still awful worried for Barbara. She’s nearly heartbroken over . . . well, what’s happened to our bishop, comin’ so quick on the heels of everything else.”
    It was like Mamm to think of others before herself. Rose guessed poor Barbara must carry the burden of her husband’s silencing. How could she not?
    “I want to have them over for supper . . . show our support,” Mamm said, glancing up at her own mother, Rose’s Mammi Sylvia. “Just don’t know what we’ll talk ’bout . . . ya know.”
    “There’s always the weather,” Rose said, going to wash her hands before testing the vegetables in the stew pot. She wouldn’t for the life of her mention the power Nick held in his hands regarding his foster father—if he were to join church and become an upstanding Amishman. After being gone this long, there was little chance of that.
    Mamm returned to her reading, caressing the Bible’s cover like a mother stroking a child.
    When it was time for dinner, Mattie Sue cheerfully guided her father in the back door and into the kitchen. She helped him stuff his gloves into his coat pockets, then hung up his jacket and scarf before leading him to the bench, where she plunked down right next to him, looking mighty pleased.
    Her mother’s child. Rose carried the pan of corn bread to the table. Then she went back to the drawer for the black ladle and placed it deep in the tureen of delicious stew. Looking at Mattie Sue sitting there with her father, Rose wondered whether, if the tables were turned and if Hen were the one suffering from the aftereffects of a serious accident, Brandon would care for her, despite their vast differences?
    Rose hated to judge, even in her thoughts, but she had a hard time picturing that.
    “My partner, Bruce Kramer, is stopping by to drive me to Quarryville later,” Brandon stated. “I’ll take Mattie Sue along.”
    Dat and Mamm glanced at each other. “Does Hen know?” asked Dat.
    “I told her this morning, before she left,” Brandon replied, his unseeing eyes blinking rapidly.
    “Aw, we can’t leave Wiggles alone,” Mattie Sue said, her face wrinkled in concern. “He’ll cry, Daddy.”
    “Then he’ll have to cry,” Brandon said quietly, turning to Mattie Sue. “Dogs need to learn to be alone sometimes.”
    “We’ll watch your puppy for ya,” Mamm volunteered from across the table. “Be glad to.”
    Dat straightened in his chair. “Mattie Sue can stay here, too, while you’re gone,” he said.
    Brandon surprised Rose by nodding in compliance. “I thought it was time she saw my office. But we can do that another day.”
    Rose sighed, grateful there wasn’t going to be an argument between Brandon and Dat. She took her seat next to Mamm and her grandparents, opposite her niece and brother-in-law, and bowed her head when Dat gave the silent table blessing. O Lord God and heavenly Father, bless us and these bountiful gifts, which we do gratefully accept from your loving and gracious hand. . . .
    At the end of the prayer, Dat cleared his throat, and Rose raised her head, glad to see Brandon had kept his hands in his lap during the prayer. Hen had said recently that he typically fumbled about for his silverware during the table blessing, even though Mattie Sue always reminded him to pray before eating.
    Mattie Sue