The Judgment by Beverly Lewis Page B

down the steps, shivering in the cool air.
    Sporting pale pink sweats and a pink and white jersey, Diane gave her a quick, casual hug. “I’ve been calling and calling your house for weeks. Then, finally, Brandon picked up the phone this afternoon.” Diane looked over her shoulder at the girls and lowered her voice. “He said you’re hiding out in Amishville.”
    Sounds like him. Hen grimaced.
    “He’s joking, right?” Diane’s gaze swept Hen from the top of her Kapp to her black leather shoes. She went on to say how concerned she’d been not hearing from Hen. “Last I knew, you were all fired up about taking a job at an Amish fabric shop, but I never dreamed in a hundred years you’d—”
    “Diane, please, ” Hen whispered. “The girls . . .”
    Frowning, Diane moved closer. “Hen, have you left Brandon?”
    Hen felt dejected. “You’re jumping to conclusions.” She wondered what Brandon had told her. “ Come inside, out of the cold,” she called to the girls.
    “Do we have to, Mommy?” complained Mattie Sue, putting her hand on her hip.
    “You’re not dressed warmly enough. Please come inside.”
    Karen, who was Mattie’s age, tugged on Mattie’s arm and led her into the house. Once Karen removed her own jacket and left it on the floor, the girls ran upstairs, jabbering all the while.
    “Karen really misses playing with Mattie,” said Diane, settling onto the settee and stretching out her long, thin legs.
    Hen didn’t know what to say. Sure, Mattie had missed seeing Karen, but English friends were no longer in Hen’s plan for her daughter—not since coming home to Salem Road.
    “And you have to know I’ve missed seeing you ,” Diane said, turning to look at Hen, who was pushing pieces of wood into the belly of the black cookstove and then filling the teakettle with water.
    “I’ve missed you, too.”
    Diane stared at her. “So what’re you doing living out here in the boonies?”
    “Amishville, you mean?” Her ire was rising. “This is my home, Diane . . . my life.”
    “But you married Brandon.”
    “Yes, I did.” Hen had no obligation to bare her heart to Diane Perlis.
    “Why go backward, Hen? I don’t get it.”
    Hen returned and sat down in a wing-back chair across from Diane. “My husband and I are working this out.”
    “Right.” Diane curled her lips into a peculiar smile. “I see that.”
    Looking away, Hen wished Diane would stop pumping her with pointed questions. Questions with no answers.
    After a time, the teakettle whistled sharply. Hen was relieved and rose to pour hot water into a china cup. “I assume you want some tea?” She raised one of the saucers to Diane as she balanced the filled cup.
    “Why not? Maybe some Amish tea’s just what the doctor ordered.”
    Hen nodded and poured hot water into a second cup.
    “Listen, Hen, we’re both adults. I’m going to give it to you straight. There are plenty of women who’d give their eyeteeth for a good-looking, successful guy like Brandon.” Diane’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “If he was my husband, I wouldn’t risk leaving him for a minute.”
    “Well, I’m not stupid,” Hen blurted, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
    “Then you’d better go home to him.”
    “You don’t understand, Diane.”
    “You’re right . . . I don’t.” Unfolding her legs, Diane rose and wandered to the table and sat down. She spooned a token bit of sugar into the hot water and chose a tea bag. “I mean, really, you two were just the best together, Hen. Why would you want to give up your life with Brandon for . . . well, any of this?”
    Hen considered Diane’s remarks as she added a heaping amount of sugar to her own tea. She stirred it slowly, deliberately, without looking up.

    Hen had already put Mattie Sue to bed for the night and was thinking of curling up with a good book when Rose let herself in.
    Once she was downstairs, Hen immediately saw the anxiety on Rose’s face. “What