She went to the sink, where the grubby, wet backpack sat. “I told you, forget it.” After opening it, she pulled out its contents. The soggy clothes she tossed in the sink, but when she pulled out a thick leather book, her movements became slow and gentle. She flipped the pages, checking the water damage.
“After you and your mother left, I climbed our tree every day, waiting for you to come back.”
She tossed the book onto the table as if it didn’t matter, but he’d already seen that it did. “So what’s your point?”
“You were supposed to come back. Malinda intended for you to be raised by Levina. That’s what she was doing here that week—getting permission.”
The taut lines on Cara’s face melted as every trace of emotion drained. “She wouldn’t send me away.”
“She didn’t want to. I was finishing up some chores for Levina really late one night, and I overheard your mother through an open window, sobbing like her heart was breaking. The plan was to take you back with her and prepare you for what needed to be done.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She snatched up the book. “I’ve heard enough.”
He stood and blocked her exit. “Cara, listen to me. The church leaders decided they couldn’t provide a place for your mother. She’d joined the church, but then she left here with a man who wasn’t Amish. When she came back with you, she was married to that man. They wouldn’t support her leaving him, but they were willing to take you in because you were a child, and she was willing to give you up.”
“My mother wouldn’t have passed me to some friend to raise. She used to hide me from Dad sometimes, but—”
“Levina and Emma Riehl weren’t friends. They were relatives. Riehl was your mother’s maiden name. And Levina was your great-grandmother.”
She froze, seemingly unable to catch her breath.
He touched her arm, and she jerked.
“The old woman?”
“She was your mothers grandmother. She died a number of years ago.”
“But I…I have relatives here?”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Whatever bad feelings your mother caused in Dry Lake still cling to most.”
“Meaning they know who I am and don’t want anything to do with me?” Pain and utter disbelief reflected in her eyes.
“At first no one knew you were here. When they found out a woman was staying at my place, most didn’t know who. Now, among other reasons, they need some time to adjust.”
“Adjust?” She tried to bury the hurt from his sight. “They need time? After leaving me in a bus depot?”
“I don’t know why that happened. Maybe your dad just thought Emma was coming.”
She rolled her eyes, looking disgusted. “Yeah, right. It had to be him. We can tell that by how welcoming those same people are now.” She stared at him. “Why are they being like this? You know something you’re not saying.”
“They’ve heard things about you. Rumors.”
“Enlighten me.”
“They believe you’re a thief and a drunk. I never said a word about you taking anything from me, but—”
Her brown eyes bore into him, and he could almost see the puzzle pieces fitting together. “The man who saw me coming out of that home must’ve started people talking.” She slammed her palms on the counter. “I only took what I had to. And I wasn’t drunk. Exhausted and clumsy but—”
“I know, Cara. I get it. And they will too if given time.”
“So now they think I’m worse than my dad, who ruined the life of an Amish girl.”
He nodded.
She sidestepped him and left the house, letting the screen door slam behind her.
He went after her, surprised she wasn’t going to his Daed’s house to get Lori. Instead she went the back way toward the cornfield.
“Cara, wait.”
She turned to him. “All this time I’ve shared parts of my life with you, and you knew more than I did. Go away, Ephraim. Go back to your tight-knit community and leave me alone.”
He followed after her. She didn’t stop until she stood on the empty foundation of Levina’s place.
He moved onto the platform with her. “I’m sorry. If I could have prevented this, I would’ve.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “All those years of having no one was easier than this.”
“I know it’s hard to understand, but it takes rules, restrictions, and avoiding the ways of the world to live as we do. Our boundary lines don’t change because someone wants more freedom. A person either agrees to live by the rules of being Amish and joins the faith, or they leave. Your mother joined the faith and then left. She didn’t return until she was trying to protect you.”
“So it didn’t really matter what I did. They would’ve been set against me anyway because of what she did.”
“Not exactly. Whatever trouble your mother caused is only part of the wall. The half-truths going around about you have done a lot of damage. And you carry an aura of the world, and that makes you suspect. We slept in the same house together. When the church leaders stopped by you and Lori were dancing. Still, if you’ll give the community a little time, they’ll come around. Their attitudes toward you are already changing.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The bishop found a place for you to live. It’s not too far from Dry Lake. And the rent is already covered for three months.”
“They’re paying me to leave?”
He hadn’t thought of it like that. “Cara, I’m sure that’s not how they meant it.”
“So is that what your girlfriend came to tell you—that the community has a plan for getting me out of Dry Lake?”
“No, the real news is that my Daed’s in the hospital, and I need to go see him.”
“What? I’m sorry. I’ll get Lori right now, and we’ll stay at the Garretts for the night.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. He’s stabilized, so it’s not an emergency.”
“Why didn’t they tell you sooner?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, realizing he’d just stepped into another pile of horse manure. “I made the choice, Cara.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m under the ban.”
“In English, please.”
“I’m being shunned. I can’t talk to or be talked to or work with any Amish person around here—not even family.”
“On vacation, huh?” she mumbled as she walked to the far end of the foundation. A few moments later she squared her shoulders slightly. “Do I need to do something to help set all this straight for you, or is just getting out of here enough?”
“I don’t want you to go, especially not like this.”
“Yeah, and I didn’t want to grow up in foster care. But life happens, ’From.”
Her use of his nickname told him her anger was gone. Resignation had seeped into her, and she was ready to make amends and leave.
He moved to the edge of the foundation and sat. “I went to New York about a year after my mother died. I went looking for you. I actually thought I had a chance of finding you.”
She sat beside him. “I’m sorry I called you a liar. You’ve been nicer to me than anyone could expect.”
“I’m glad we had to get to know each other. I’ll never see life the same since seeing it through your eyes. But being Amish is who I am, and my family needs me. Especially with my Daed’s health as it is. I provide for the family.”
“And your God wouldn’t want it any other way right?”
His heart felt as if it might plummet to his feet. “Die Sache, as uns zammebinne, duhne sich nie net losmache, awwer die Sache as uns ausenannermache schtehne immer fescht.”
“Back atcha.” A half smile tugged at her lips as it had half a dozen times this week when he’d said that to her. “You ever gonna tell me what that means?”
Gazing into her eyes, he longed for more time. “The things that bind us will n
ever loosen, but the things that separate us will always stand firm.”
She eased her hand over his, sending warmth and loneliness through him. “And what doesn’t separate us allows us to be friends… at least for now.”
He held on to her hand. “We’ll pace what needs to be done. Take the time to get Lori used to the new place and to find yourself a job.”
Cara gazed at the horizon, looking peaceful in spite of the storm. He didn’t push for her to respond. Plenty had been covered for now. They waited as daylight faded into dark and a few stars became visible.
Before getting out of bed, Cara pulled Lori’s warm body closer and kissed the back of her head.
She slid into her jeans, leaving Ephraim’s shirt on. It hurt to know she had relatives in Dry Lake who didn’t want to talk to her. But she couldn’t dismiss what Ephraim had done to improve their situation. Lori’s life was better and would always be better because of the path he’d cleared for them. That alone was enough to soothe the Grand Canyon-size ache in her chest.
She tiptoed out of the bedroom as daylight loomed. The idea of seeing Emma Riehl ran through her mind. Maybe if she understood why her dad had left her at the bus station and told her that Emma was coming, and why she hadn’t, Cara could lay it to rest.
Heat radiated from the cookstove. A percolator prepped with coffee and water sat next to the sink, ready to be placed on the stove. Ephraim must’ve slipped inside at some point and started the fire and fixed the percolator for her. On his own, without his community pulling at him, Ephraim was quite a man. He had integrity.
And something beyond that.
He’d captured a piece of her heart. She wasn’t sure why it had happened. Maybe because he was a truly nice guy or maybe because she felt connected to him since he’d known her mother. Whatever the reason, her heart had really poor judgment and timing. But he’d taken only a sliver. She’d move on and get it back.
Moving as quietly as she could, she placed the percolator on the stove. She’d had a lot harder wallops in her life than learning her relatives wanted nothing to do with her—losing her mother, growing up in foster care, dealing with a stalker, and marrying a man she didn’t love. This latest hit had her staggering, but not for long. She’d start new and find something she was really good at. Maybe she should start her own painting business.
The Bible lay open on the table. The two men she’d been closest to had beliefs founded in that book. A shred of hope that strength could be found inside those pages drew her to it.
She sat down and pulled it in front of her. The words were barely visible in the dim glow of dawn. She lit the kerosene lamp and flipped pages, pausing here and there as a phrase caught her eye. Its beautiful prose and imagery were fascinating, even without believing in its origin. As she turned the thin, delicate paper, she remembered her mother loving this book. She had scribbled verses inside Cara’s diary, along with thoughts of love and short lectures of wisdom from mother to child.
Daughter. The word caught her eye, but she’d already flipped past it. Turning back through the pages, she began scanning each one.
Daughter. The word popped from the book. She placed her finger under it and traced back a few words.
“I will be your Father, and you will be my sons and daughters.”
The longing to be a beloved daughter hit so hard she couldn’t breathe.
If only it were true.
Ephraim sat on the bench swing in his hiddy. Concern for his Daed’s health pushed in on all sides, but that wasn’t enough to keep his mind off Cara.
The top of the sun edged over the horizon, bringing stronger rays of daylight with it. The green fields sparkled with dew. Horses and cows grazed on nearby hills. Mist rose from the valley and from the shop’s roof Everything he saw spoke of a promise—the best this earth had to offer. The pursuit of happiness. Peaceful living. And freedom.
But all he could feel was emptiness and duty.
He’d hardly slept last night. His whole body ached for things he never knew existed before Cara. She woke the sleeping parts of his soul, just as she had as a child. Existence before her was shallow and only satisfying because he didn’t know anything different.
Now he knew. Part of him wished he didn’t. The other part longed for there to be answers.
Was he falling in love with her? It didn’t matter. It couldn’t. He tried to think about something else.
Since the house was quiet, he wondered if Cara and Lori were still asleep. After Cara had picked up Lori from his sister, he’d made ice cream as promised. Then he’d gone to the shop. Cara probably hadn’t slept much either. Or maybe she had. She was certainly more used to upheaval and grief than he was. Did she feel grief over him? Or was he the only one who felt so stirred by their friendship?
He knew she needed to get to the Garretts’ this morning to finish the job, but he hesitated to wake her. He went to the clothesline in his Daed’s yard, where he’d created a trough of sorts using a sheet strung between two lines. He’d placed the freshly washed paintbrushes and rollers inside. It must’ve been about midnight when he remembered he needed to finish cleaning the soaking items. He placed the tools into a bucket he’d scrubbed for this very purpose.
The door to his Daed’s home swooshed open, and he glanced up.
Anna Mary looked as weary as he felt. With Becca at the hospital with Daed, Anna Mary must’ve stayed to help Deborah with the younger ones. She headed for him without hesitation, apparently confident in continuing the special privilege granted to her by the bishop.
She came to a halt, her bare feet wet from the dew. “Mahlon and Grey both offered to help Cara today. The bishop gave permission, provided one of the elders can visit at will. I told him that wouldn’t be a problem. One of the men will be here in about an hour to drive them over.”
“Why the big production? Cara isn’t going to try to seduce them, for Pete’s sake.”
“That’s not the point. The bishop is our head, and we submit to his word. Have you forgotten the ways of your people so quickly?”
Chafing at her tone, one she never would have used before the shunning, he put the last two paintbrushes in the bucket.
“Robbie will be here to take you to the hospital about the same time. I want to go with you.”
“I’m sure Deborah needs your help around here. Besides, I’d hoped to talk to Daed alone.”
She moved in close and laid her hand on his chest. “Look, this is hard on both of us, but I have to know that you care about us—that when this is over, you’ll be ready to commit to me the way you have to that woman and her child.”
Like a spring rain, drops of realization fell on him, and he understood what his heart had been trying to tell him. He placed his hand over hers and removed it from him. “I’m sorry. But I can’t do that.”
He doubted if he ever could have, not without settling. But now that he knew what it meant for someone to connect with his soul, for someone’s very presence to make a difference in how he perceived a day, he had to let Anna Mary go.
“What are you saying?”
“You can tell people you ended things between us. That you’re tired of me. Ashamed of me. They’ll sympathize. Probably even think you’ve done the right thing.”
Her face turned red, and she burst into tears. “But why?”
“You don’t really want an answer to that. If it helps, I don’t want an answer to that either.”
Her face scrunched with confusion. “Maybe you’re just irritable from all the stress. Or angry at all that’s happening and taking it out on me.”
“Have I ever taken anything out on you?”
She used her apron to wipe her cheeks. “Then I need you to explain this to me.”
She really didn’t know? He removed his hat, fidgeting with it. Then he realized. She thought so little of Cara that she couldn’t imagine Ephraim might have feelings for her. “I’m not in love with you.”
“But…”
“I really
am sorry.”
She jerked the bucket from the ground and slung it across the yard. “I can’t believe this. You should be begging me to stay in your life.”
“I agree. But I’m not.” He heard Lori chattering and looked that way. Across the field Cara stood basked in sunlight, a complete array of the forbidden. And all he wanted was more of her. She wasn’t just an Englischer with her short hair, worldly dress, and permissive ways. She lacked every element inside her soul to become Amish. And still he longed to spend time with her.
Anna Mary squeezed his arm. “Look at me.”
When he did, he saw the pain he’d inflicted. He hated it, but he couldn’t change it.
“Her?” She sounded incredulous. “She’s seduced you, hasn’t she?”
“No. She has no idea how I feel. I’m not even sure how I feel. I may die a lonely bachelor. But that doesn’t change anything between you and me.”
She tightened her hands into fists before bolting across the yard.
As guilty as he felt, relief washed over him. Whatever discoveries within his heart lay ahead, they wouldn’t involve betraying Anna Mary on any level.
Cara stood at the kitchen counter as Joe Garrett wrote out a check. With his hand blocking her view, she couldn’t see the amount. She heard Lori in the next room, talking with the Garretts’ little girl.
Mr. Garrett paused, holding the payment in his hand. “You did an amazing job. Not a scratch on any of the floors or furniture, closets not only painted but organized. Every room painted beautifully. And no spatters of paint anywhere to be seen. I never expected all this. And in a week? You must’ve been logging some major overtime.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased.”
He passed her the check. “I think that should say how impressed we are.”
She glanced at the amount and nearly choked. Five hundred more dollars than they’d agreed on. All she’d hoped to do was ensure the Garretts were happy to pay her fee.
Heather Garrett motioned around the room. “I love it. Absolutely love it.” She took the checkbook from her husband. “I’ve been threatening to clean and organize forever.”
The Hope of Refuge Page 21