“I don’t understand. What is it you want time to do?”
“Easy, Deb.”
“Don’t try to calm me, Mahlon. I have as much right to feel things as you do, and I don’t like how you’re acting. Less than a week ago we began telling our friends and family of our plans to marry, and now you need to get away?”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
Mahlon told her about his nightmares and insomnia, but she also heard what he wasn’t saying—that the responsibility of finding a home, getting married, and starting his own family had triggered old feelings of panic. When he lost his father at ten years old and took on the responsibility for his widowed mother, it seemed to dig a channel inside his soul, like the wheel of a buggy caught in a deep, muddy rut. Being in New York on September 11 during the terrorist attacks made it a thousand times worse, and now Eric’s return seemed to have triggered questions inside him that he had no answers for.
He pulled onto Jonathan’s long dirt driveway and came to a stop. “If this was happening to you, you’d need a lot of time among your friends and family. You’d spend hours and hours with your many friends, me included, talking until you unearthed the answers that put things in perspective and brought you peace. But that’s not me, Deb.”
Her heart twisted, and her eyes brimmed with tears. “You need time completely alone.” She cupped his face with her hands. “I’m sorry I got aggravated.”
He pulled her closer and placed his lips over hers. After the gentle kiss he studied her. “Sometimes I get mad at me too, but I’m still the same anyway.”
“I love you for who you are. You go talk to yourself and God. And find peace.”
He wrapped his arms around her, and she felt him tremble. Whatever had been unleashed inside him was making him more miserable than he could bear. Silently she prayed for him, as she had every day for as long as she could remember.
“When will you go?”
“Saturday most likely. Ephraim has a lot of work scheduled for the rest of this week, and I can’t leave yet. I’d like you and me to go out Friday night, and then I’ll leave the next morning. I’ll tell Ephraim tomorrow that I’m taking off a few days next week.”
The edge of darkness began to take over as Ephraim left the barn with a full and sleepy pup in hand—the one Simeon said Lori wanted. He’d taken clean clothes from the clothesline back to Cara and Lori over an hour ago before going to visit his Daed.
Cara had said nothing when he’d set the items on the table. He’d added a little more wood to the oven in case she wanted to scramble some eggs or fix a grilled cheese sandwich. Without experience on a wood stove, she wouldn’t be able to cook much, but he assured her she could use any of the food in the house to fix her and Lori something to eat. He had no idea why, but an accusing look had returned to her eyes when he said the words.
It made him miss Anna Mary. Her friendly, easily understood ways were much more welcome than this mess… except he wasn’t sure how well she’d take the news of Cara when the time came.
He stepped onto his porch with the full intention of tapping before walking in, but Lori sat in a ladder back chair in the kitchen, staring through the screen door. In that brief moment he saw a very worried little girl. She seemed to think if he didn’t keep his word and come back, the police would show up again. Her wet hair hung about her shoulders, and her shiny-clean face eased into a slight smile at the sight of him.
Ephraim came inside and held out the pup.
“Mom, look!” She jumped up from her chair and scooped the dog from his hand.
Cara walked out of the bathroom, towel drying her hair and wearing one of his shirts over her jeans. Her eyes questioned him.
Ephraim removed his hat and hung it on the peg. “He’s full right now, but I’ll take him back to his mother in the morning.”
Lori cuddled the puppy. “Whatcha gonna name him?”
“Name him?” He had no plans to keep the mutt.
“Mom said we don’t have enough food for us, let alone a dog. But if you want him…”
Ephraim chuckled. “Well, I’ve been thinking maybe I need a dog around here.” He noticed dozens of bug bites on Lori’s arms and legs. He went to the kitchen cabinet where he kept some over-the-counter stuff, grabbed a tube of anti-itch cream, and passed it to Cara.
“Thanks.” Cara read the side of the package and removed the lid.
“Not a problem.” He patted the dog’s head. “How about Better Days?”
A faint look of cynicism crossed Cara’s face, but she said nothing.
Lori set the dog on the floor and walked across the room. “Here, Better Days.” The puppy ran to her. “Look, he likes it.”
Ephraim closed the front door. “Actually, he likes you, and he would have come no matter what you called him. But he’ll get used to the name.”
“Can he sleep on the bed with me?”
“I suppose for tonight. If it’s okay with your mom.”
She looked to her mom, who gave a silent nod. Contentment seemed to erase the last of Lori’s stress, and she smiled.
Cara sat on the floor near Lori and dabbed spots of medicine onto bug bites. Ephraim grabbed yesterday’s newspaper off a counter, took a seat at the kitchen table, and opened it. Half reading and half listening to the banter between mother and daughter, he felt the depth of the bond between them.
He’d been nineteen when his mother died, and although he hadn’t realized how much he loved her until after she died, the pain of losing her wore on him night and day, slowly easing with time. Even now he had nights when he dreamed of her and heard her voice in his sleep.
The room grew quiet as Cara and Lori moved into the bedroom. Cara’s soft voice rode through the silence of his home as she read from one of the children’s books, not sounding anything like the woman who’d split his lip last night.
Hoping she’d come back into the kitchen when Lori was settled, he added a bit of wood to the cookstove and put on a pot of coffee to brew. After returning to the kitchen table, he read through a different newspaper. She came out of the bedroom, closed the door behind her, but remained near the doorframe.
Her eyes seemed glued to the table. Taut lines across her face had replaced the tenderness he’d seen there when she was with Lori. “I appreciate your kindness to my daughter.” She lifted her eyes, staring straight at him. “I don’t suppose you’re ready to tell me the bottom line in all this.”
Ephraim went to the stove and poured her a cup of coffee. He set it on the table. “That’s percolated coffee, meaning it’s boiling hot.” He placed cream and sugar in front of her before pouring himself a cup and taking a seat. He motioned to a chair. “Sit.” She slowly moved forward and took a seat.
Without touching her cup, she stared at the black liquid in front of her.
He dumped a bit of cream and sugar into his cup. The clock ticked off the minutes. “Is it too late in the day for you to drink coffee?”
She shook her head.
“Do you take your coffee black?”
“I’ll keep close tabs on what I use while we’re here. You’ll get what I’ll owe you. I’ll even pay for your kindness to Lori. But I won’t use anything I don’t really need, like coffee or cream or sugar.”
Not liking her tone, Ephraim wondered if they would get along only when Lori was around. “So you’re figuring on paying me for each thing, are you?”
“Are you saying I won’t?”
Ephraim tried to steady his growing frustration. “I’m saying you couldn’t possibly pay me for the trouble your presence is going to cause. I don’t need your money anyway. But an attitude overhaul on your part might make this situation bearable.”
She ran her hands across the edge of the table, and he noticed a slight trembling of her fingers. It dawned on him what she thought he might want.
His offense at her faded. Hidden inside her was a steely determination. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d fed her daughter dinner tonight
but not herself.
He reached into his pocket, feeling the toy horse he’d dug out of the storage room. When he knew her as a child, she’d treasured it above all else, and then she’d given it to him.
She drew a shaky breath. “Did the policeman say how social services will contact me?”
“They could just drop in, but he thinks they’ll call first because Dry Lake is a long way to drive just to find out no one is home.”
“You drive by horse and buggy, but you have a phone?” She looked around, searching for it.
“Not in the house. The few Old Order Amish people who own a phone never have it inside their home. The church leaders gave me permission to have one because of my business. It’s in the cabinetry shop. It has a loud speaker directed this way, so I can usually hear from this distance—except in winter when my windows are shut.”
He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a coconut pie his sister had made for him. He slid it onto the table and grabbed two plates from the cabinet. “This is the best pie you’ll ever have. And it has no strings.”
She stared at the pie as he cut a piece and put it onto a plate. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. Unfortunately, I know how situations like this work… even if you don’t.”
He held the plate out to her. When she didn’t take it, he set it on the table. He put some cream and sugar into her coffee and pushed it toward her. “Relax, Cara.”
She stared at him with those bronze eyes he remembered so well—only back then they carried hope instead of cynicism. The only dare those eyes had carried as a child was the fun kind that lacked fear. She’d trusted him when he said she’d be safe to jump from a loft or drop from a rope into the creek. He motioned to the slice of pie. “It’s free. I promise.”
She didn’t look like she believed him, but she didn’t argue. “I’ve been looking for a place. I want to be gone within a few days at most.”
“The sooner the better for me too.”
She studied him without a trace of trust in her eyes.
“I want nothing from you except respect. I’m sure there are plenty of men who’d like more from you. I’m not one of them. It’s angering that you can’t believe that.” He took a sip of his coffee. “But I understand it.”
“It’s angering?” She blinked several times. “You certainly don’t look or sound angry.”
Suddenly he remembered why her mother had come back—to find a place of safety from a man who’d grown too violent to control. She’d made arrangements with Levina to take Cara in. Even received permission from the bishop for her to give Cara up and for Levina to take care of her.
At the time he’d really liked Cara. Not as a girlfriend or anything, but as a pal who wasn’t afraid to try things she’d never done before. He’d been glad the church leaders were going to allow her to live with Levina.
But her mother had never brought her to Levina as she’d arranged. What had her life been like because of that?
“Saying something directly is all it should take to get a point across. Don’t you think?”
She gave a half shrug. “Most talk is a waste of time. Actions mean a lot more.”
He nudged the mug of coffee and the plate of pie closer to her. “Then let my actions say I’m on your side in this.”
After a few moments a half smile created a faint but familiar dimple in her cheek. She slowly took the cup in hand. Breathing in the aroma, she lifted it to her lips. Her eyes closed, and she took a sip. “Oh, man. If I had a cigarette, I might believe in heaven.” She ate the pie slowly, as if savoring every crumb.
He had dozens of questions to ask and a hundred things he wanted to tell her, but he doubted if either held any wisdom. She needed time to get past the trauma of being kicked out of a run-down barn, of almost losing Lori, of begging for help. “So you’ve been walking to the Howards for work every day?”
“I’ve been thinking of firing the chauffeur. He never shows up on time.”
He chuckled. At least she still had a sense of humor, even though it had turned rather bitter. “Cara, no one can see you leaving this house. My father’s sick. He just came home from the hospital today. I need time before I can tell him you’re staying here.”
“I’ll take Lori with me, and we’ll go out the back way, through the fields. We’ll leave before daylight and not come back till after dark. I need the money if I’m going to get out of here in a few days, and I just can’t leave Mr. Howard hanging. If he loses more work hours, he’ll be fired.”
Her personality was an odd mix of sarcasm, humor, honesty, and courage. In some ways she seemed a lot like the girl he knew twenty years ago. If she wasn’t such a danger to him, he could enjoy getting reacquainted.
“Fine. Use the same route I brought you in by, and try not to be seen.”
She angled her head, questions etched on her face.
“You’re not a prisoner. We’re in this together.”
He pulled the toy horse out of his pocket and laid it on the table. He thought he saw a shadow of recognition cross her face, but then she stared into the bottom of her empty cup. Either she didn’t recognize it, or she didn’t trust him enough to want to discuss any part of her past.
Leaving the toy on the table, he rose. “Good night, Cara.”
Consciousness tapped against the numbness of sleep. Waking, Cara snuggled on the softness beneath her, enjoying the luxury. Unlike when she’d slept in the barn, she didn’t wish to hurry daylight along. The pleasure of a mattress beneath her and covers surrounding her caused a sense of dignity to return, even if she and Lori never had much.
She reached across the bed until she felt the warmth of her daughter’s back. Her eyes misted. Waking could have been so miserably different for both of them if Ephraim hadn’t come along.
Lori’s breathing came in slow, rhythmic sounds, renewing Cara’s strength for the battles ahead. Through all the haze of panic and shame yesterday, she’d not given much thought to Ephraim’s actions. She’d only fixed on her unease about his hidden motives.
She put her feet on the clean wooden floors, grateful not to be in that cold, smelly barn. She eased into her jeans. The toy horse Ephraim had pulled from his pocket and left on the kitchen table now sat on the nightstand. She’d taken it with her when she went to bed last night. He’d acted like it should mean something to her, but she’d been too leery of him to ask and too drained to think straight.
She didn’t mean to be so callous toward Ephraim. But she’d lost herself once. Her sense of self-respect had died a painful death. Buried the year she turned nineteen. Of all the things in life she grieved for, giving up her own self in exchange for food and shelter and safety was the worst.
American tradition lied. Black was not the color worn during loss and grief. White was. White lace. Tulle. Chiffon. Silk. But in spite of marrying Johnny when she wasn’t in love with him, the life they built became one she cherished.
She took the toy horse in hand, studying it. Ephraim was not Johnny and he wasn’t helping her so she’d owe him a lifetime debt. He wanted her out of his life as much as she wanted out. And he deserved to be treated with respect, not jaded bitterness. As she clutched the horse in her hand, a vague memory moved through her like a shadow.
Standing barefoot on a creek bank, she watched a boy as he stared at the horse in the palm of her hand. Words were coming out of her mouth, but she couldn’t make them out. Closing her eyes, she concentrated. “You keep it,” she heard herself say. Goose bumps ran over her whole body. “Keep it until I return.”
Cara’s heart raced at the memory. She wanted to remember more, but the scene ended right there. “Until I return,” she whispered.
From the foot of the bed, the puppy responded to Cara’s movements and waddled up to her. He licked her hands while she tried to keep him calm. Figuring he’d pee if she didn’t get him outside quickly, she picked him up. She tiptoed through the dark bedroom and tripped over a stack of books. They fell like dominoes. With
her free hand she put them back in place. Wondering if Ephraim collected books or if he actually read them, she walked through the dark kitchen, heading for the front door.
A movement flitted before her. She stopped short, her heart pounding.
“Cara?” Ephraim sounded startled.
“Yeah. Did I wake you?”
He drew a sleepy breath. “No. I was on my way to get a drink of water.”
“I think the puppy needs to go out.”
“Pffft. The whole point of better days is that they are supposed to come in and stay,” he mumbled, trying to lift the puppy from her.
“What?” She didn’t release the dog.
“It’s a joke. We named the dog Better Days. Get it?”
Was it normal to make jokes when so much stress existed between them?
She passed him the dog. “I’m afraid I don’t, but you should take the pup out before you get it.”
He chuckled. “If Better Days starts peeing on us before the day begins, what can we expect next?”
She figured he must be a morning person. “Do you really want an answer to that?”
He went out the kitchen door. His laughter clung to her, and something about his movements made a memory jump into her mind. A cool breeze stirred the tall grass as water rippled over her bare feet. A boy grabbed a rope and swung out over the deep part of the creek, laughing as he let go.
Was Ephraim the boy in her memories?
The screen door banged as he walked in. She jolted, taking several steps back. As if he didn’t see her, he went into the kitchen, set the pup on the floor, lit a kerosene lamp, and grabbed some milk out of the refrigerator. He tore off small chunks of homemade bread, tossed them into a bowl, and poured milk over them.
He set the container on the floor. “Another week or so and they’ll be ready to be weaned. Guess I better start taking them some soggy food once in a while.” He scrunched a few pieces of newspaper and placed them in the wood stove. He added small strips of wood on top, struck a foot-long match, and held it inside the stove. “If anyone from social services shows up here today needing to talk to you, I’ll tell them where you’re working.” He dropped the match inside the stove and put the solid metal eye back in place.
The Hope of Refuge Page 11