Brandon admitted.
She agreed, glad he was willing.
Sitting there, he began to talk about Aaron’s latest visit, mentioning that the bishop had some upcoming building on his mind. “I didn’t realize this before, but I guess the Amish really can—and do—raise a barn in a single day. That’s right up my alley.”
“It is amazing,” she replied as she reached for her own coffee. “So Aaron’s sounding chipper as ever—just as I remember. For all the years I’ve known him, I have never heard him speak a negative word.”
“I still don’t know how he does it, staying optimistic with things as they are.”
“So you must’ve talked further on this?”
Brandon sighed and she waited for him to reply.
“Like he said before, he’s thankful for the opportunity to trust God and believes he has no right to question.” Brandon rested his left hand on his right, fingering the hard cast. “He also insists my blindness is part of God’s plan. Which, of course, is nuts.”
“Aaron lives his life in accordance with the Good Book,” Hen replied softly.
Brandon blinked and squinted, as if struggling to see again. “Well, that’s pretty messed up, if you think about it.”
“Not if you accept Scripture as truth.”
He chuckled offhandedly. “Aaron actually quoted a verse from the Old Testament about that.”
“Was it this? ‘O Lord, I know that the way of man is not in himself: it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps.’ ”
“Yes, that’s the one.” He ran his hand over his stubbled chin. “He honestly believes that the lousy things that happen are God’s will. That God allows bad things to happen.”
“The sovereignty of God,” Hen said softly.
“Call it whatever you want. The way I see it, Aaron’s in denial about his situation—that ridiculous silencing. He’s going to crack, you’ll see. Just like I’m going to if I don’t get my sight back soon.”
Hen bit her lip to prevent a retort from escaping. Best just to let him vent.
Brandon squinted again, as if trying desperately to break through the thick veil that blanketed his sight. “My whole life has been turned inside out. I can’t get a grip on anything.” His voice broke with emotion and he fell silent.
Getting up, she quickly went to him and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned his head against hers for the longest time, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was silently weeping. “Even though we accept the providence of God, that doesn’t mean we can’t pray,” Hen ventured. “I know that Aaron’s praying for you. All of us are.”
“Much good it’s done.”
“That’s where trust comes in.” She released him, standing near.
“We have to accept whatever happens as God’s will, right?”
She swallowed hard. “I realize this must be terribly hard for you.”
“Hen?” Brandon raised his head.
“I’m here.” She looked at him, and for just a moment his manner was so vulnerable, even tentative, she could scarcely remember his former arrogance. She rested her hand on his good arm.
“I appreciate that . . . more than you know.”
She hadn’t ever expected to hear this and didn’t know how to respond. Wiping back tears, she said nothing.
“Are you crying?” He turned to face her. “You are, aren’t you?”
She didn’t want to admit it. After all they’d been through, Hen still didn’t want to let her guard down and show him her helpless side. “I’ll be all right . . . really.”
He held out his hand. “I can’t do this alone, Hen.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I don’t want to keep putting you out like this. It’s not fair. You have your life here.”
Not without you and Mattie Sue, she thought, pulling away. “I’ll be fine, really.”
“Right.” He sighed. “Because you can see to drive and move about at will. Yes, I’m sure you’ll be fine even if my nightmare never ends.” His tone had abruptly changed.
Another silent moment passed. At last, Hen
She agreed, glad he was willing.
Sitting there, he began to talk about Aaron’s latest visit, mentioning that the bishop had some upcoming building on his mind. “I didn’t realize this before, but I guess the Amish really can—and do—raise a barn in a single day. That’s right up my alley.”
“It is amazing,” she replied as she reached for her own coffee. “So Aaron’s sounding chipper as ever—just as I remember. For all the years I’ve known him, I have never heard him speak a negative word.”
“I still don’t know how he does it, staying optimistic with things as they are.”
“So you must’ve talked further on this?”
Brandon sighed and she waited for him to reply.
“Like he said before, he’s thankful for the opportunity to trust God and believes he has no right to question.” Brandon rested his left hand on his right, fingering the hard cast. “He also insists my blindness is part of God’s plan. Which, of course, is nuts.”
“Aaron lives his life in accordance with the Good Book,” Hen replied softly.
Brandon blinked and squinted, as if struggling to see again. “Well, that’s pretty messed up, if you think about it.”
“Not if you accept Scripture as truth.”
He chuckled offhandedly. “Aaron actually quoted a verse from the Old Testament about that.”
“Was it this? ‘O Lord, I know that the way of man is not in himself: it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps.’ ”
“Yes, that’s the one.” He ran his hand over his stubbled chin. “He honestly believes that the lousy things that happen are God’s will. That God allows bad things to happen.”
“The sovereignty of God,” Hen said softly.
“Call it whatever you want. The way I see it, Aaron’s in denial about his situation—that ridiculous silencing. He’s going to crack, you’ll see. Just like I’m going to if I don’t get my sight back soon.”
Hen bit her lip to prevent a retort from escaping. Best just to let him vent.
Brandon squinted again, as if trying desperately to break through the thick veil that blanketed his sight. “My whole life has been turned inside out. I can’t get a grip on anything.” His voice broke with emotion and he fell silent.
Getting up, she quickly went to him and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned his head against hers for the longest time, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was silently weeping. “Even though we accept the providence of God, that doesn’t mean we can’t pray,” Hen ventured. “I know that Aaron’s praying for you. All of us are.”
“Much good it’s done.”
“That’s where trust comes in.” She released him, standing near.
“We have to accept whatever happens as God’s will, right?”
She swallowed hard. “I realize this must be terribly hard for you.”
“Hen?” Brandon raised his head.
“I’m here.” She looked at him, and for just a moment his manner was so vulnerable, even tentative, she could scarcely remember his former arrogance. She rested her hand on his good arm.
“I appreciate that . . . more than you know.”
She hadn’t ever expected to hear this and didn’t know how to respond. Wiping back tears, she said nothing.
“Are you crying?” He turned to face her. “You are, aren’t you?”
She didn’t want to admit it. After all they’d been through, Hen still didn’t want to let her guard down and show him her helpless side. “I’ll be all right . . . really.”
He held out his hand. “I can’t do this alone, Hen.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I don’t want to keep putting you out like this. It’s not fair. You have your life here.”
Not without you and Mattie Sue, she thought, pulling away. “I’ll be fine, really.”
“Right.” He sighed. “Because you can see to drive and move about at will. Yes, I’m sure you’ll be fine even if my nightmare never ends.” His tone had abruptly changed.
Another silent moment passed. At last, Hen
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