Free The Thorn by Beverly Lewis Page A

and Hen wondered if it was possible he hadn't come to bed at all. She groaned softly, realizing he must have chosen to stay up working. Or to stay away from me.
    When she finally fell back to sleep, Hen dreamed she was a little Amish girl again, playing with a favorite barn kitty. But in the end it was her daughter's wide eyes looking back at her, her wispy blond hair parted down the middle. She wore a pretty white prayer cap atop her head and held the old Kauffman family Bible in her small hands.
    Hen heard Brandon's reprimand in the background of her dream. "You left that life -for me."

    When Hen awakened to daylight streaming across the dresser and the wall beyond, she looked again for her husband's long frame but saw only his pillow and the smooth covers where he had not slept.
    She felt apprehensive; there was a horrid kink in her neck as she pushed the blankets back and pulled herself out of bed. Fumbling for her slippers, she reached for her blue bathrobe at the foot of the bed and hurried to splash cold water on her face. When she reached for the hand towel and dabbed it against her cheeks, she looked into the wide mirror and wondered how to explain to Brandon what she was feeling. No, it was more than a feeling - she was experiencing something, a gnawing at her very soul.
    Hen replaced the crimson-colored towel and stumbled across the floor to the small scale out of sheer habit. She hadn't gained a single pound since having Mattie Sue.
    She wandered down the hall and out to the living area and kitchen, hoping she wouldn't find Brandon asleep at the breakfast table, his arms cushioning his head. She sighed as she looked for his usual spot for posting a note to her. Nothing.
    She glanced in the living room, where the rumpled afghan on the sofa indicated he'd slept there, though she saw no sign of him now.
    He's gone to work early, she told herself before looking in on Mattie.
    Lining the hall on both sides were favorite photographs from her life with Brandon. Farther down the hall, baby Mattie Sue's sweet little face appeared in several lovely frames, and then the three of them together, the picture-perfect family. As much as Brandon had seemed to love their beautiful baby, he'd once told her he wanted only one ... and no more than two. Hen, of course, had been eager to start a family. She'd even hoped she might be pregnant again recently but was sadly disappointed.
    Staring at the picture of the three of them last spring, near their backyard forsythia bush, she wondered if some men, more than others, possessed a natural way with little ones. Her father came to mind. He had always been loving and warm, not as austere and rigid as some Amish fathers she'd known, including a couple of her own married brothers.
    She remembered the first time Brandon had seen newborn Mattie Sue. He'd kissed her tiny peach of a cheek, tears sparkling in the corner of his eyes. "She's beautiful, honey. Our baby looks just like you." He'd kissed Hen, too, his tears wet on her cheek.
    She smiled, the sweet memory lingering as she stepped into Mattie's colorful, cozy room. Soft pink and yellow floral designs adorned two of the walls, while the others were painted the palest shade of yellow Hen could find. Mattie was still sleeping, but a sunbeam peeked under one window blind and was spilling over her favorite dolls. Like a blessing, thought Hen, smiling sleepily as she sat on the edge of the small bed.
    There were days, not so long ago, when she and Brandon had crept happily into this very room and stood holding hands, watching their darling girl in her slumber. Hen breathed slowly, recalling the times she'd asked to take Mattie to visit her Amish grandparents, only to have Brandon recoil as if he'd been slapped. "What for?" he'd asked when they were out of their daughter's earshot. "Aren't you finished with that life, Hen?"
    He'd had every right to think that, given the joy she had exhibited on their wedding day ... minus any Plain relatives.