Instead, Aaron sat on one of the long workbenches, talking seriously. Lennie stood at another workbench, her back to Grey and her side to Aaron. An oversized pot sat in front of her, and Nicky lay on the dirt floor nearby, watching and wagging her tail.
It felt right to see Elsie’s brother like this. Grey knew firsthand the struggles the young man had been through, and right now he looked better than Grey had ever seen him—healthy, sober, as if he’d found an inner compass. But a twinge of concern pricked him.
“Grey.” Aaron nodded casually.
Lennie wheeled around, a beautiful smile greeting him. Her gloved hands were covered in potting soil, although he couldn’t imagine what needed to be potted in mid-June. Her eyes moved to his and stayed. “Grey.” Pulling off her gloves, she walked to him. “What brings you here tonight?”
When she moved in close, he couldn’t find his voice. He pulled the work order from his pocket.
Pleasure danced in her gorgeous bluish green eyes as she took the paperwork from him. “Oh, for Daed’s shop?”
“Ya.” He pointed at the schematic. “But he’s asking for an abundance of storage space for the amount of room we have to build in.”
“We’ve talked about it before, but it’s been a while. Give me a minute, and I’ll walk over with you.” She went to her workbench. “Are these cabinets going to be open faced?”
“It’s my understanding that he’s leaving that up to you.”
“That’s because he’s playing chicken.” She opened a tube of glue, spread it on the edge of a broken pot, and squeezed two pieces together before passing it to Aaron. “Hold it just like that. If you do, I’ll come by your place tomorrow and invite Sylvia to an outing tomorrow night or Sunday.”
Aaron mocked frustration. “But you already agreed to do that.”
“Ya, and now I’ve added a price tag. Stay put. I’ve wanted that pot glued for quite a while. Now that you’ve volunteered to hold it just so for the next several hundred minutes …”
“Lena.” Aaron elongated her name, fussing and laughing. Then he shifted his attention. “Grey, any chance you’d be willing to help milk the cows once in a while?”
“I’m willing. I helped your Daed whenever I could right after you left. But then he hired a young woman …”
“Sylvia Fisher.”
“Ya, that’s her name.”
“And I bet she asked you not to come anymore.”
“She was nice about it, but ya.”
“See, Lena, I told you. Sylvi is weird. Who turns down good help in exchange for the grand prize of working seven days straight, week after week?”
“Sylvia, I suppose.”
Grey listened to the banter, and the concern tugged at him again. “Lena.”
She looked surprised, but he didn’t know why. She pointed at Aaron. “You stay.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When she opened the door, Nicky bolted ahead of them. Lena left the greenhouse, carrying a lantern. Grey followed her, and she gave him the light.
“You called me Lena,” she whispered as they walked across the dark yard toward the small shop behind the house.
“So?”
Laughing softly, she dug a skeleton key out of her pocket and shoved it into the lock on the shop’s door. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard my real name come from your lips.”
“What are you doing?” His muted voice fell against the humid air.
Jiggling the key, she looked up at him. “Currently I’m fighting this door. In a moment I’m hoping to be kissed.”
He took over the key but couldn’t make it open the lock. “I don’t think you realize how much Aaron likes you. He’s home and sober, and maybe he’s looking for a girl.”
“He’s doing no such thing. Not by coming here, anyway.”
The door jarred as he finally unlocked it. “You’ve been his only connection within this community for months. He wrote to you at least once a week. And you answered, right?”
“Sure. But this is Aaron. I know him, and he’d never think like that toward me.” She set the lantern on a workbench. “We’re friends.”
“Just be a little more … distant in your responses to him.” He slid his hand into hers. “For his sake.”
“Okay.” She tilted her head back. “I miss you. It was so much easier to get quality time at Allen’s back when we were just friends.”
“I even let you win at checkers.” Her scent of lavender mixed with roses and violets drifted into his soul.
She smiled up at him. “Evenings and mornings and weekends will be ours soon enough.”
He squeezed her hand and lowered his lips to hers. The soft sweetness of her called to him.
The screen door to the greenhouse banged shut, and he knew Aaron was heading their way. “Aaron,” he whispered, brushing her cheek with a kiss.
She caressed his hand before putting several feet between them and then motioned toward the empty wall. “How deep does Daed want the cabinet?”
“Hey, Lena,” Aaron called as his footsteps echoed off the small wooden porch of the shop.
“Ya?”
He opened the door and walked in. “I think the pot is secure enough to hold together while it finishes drying, and I need to head out. It’s been thundering, and I have to get back so I can promise Sylvia it won’t rain.”
“You can’t promise that.”
Concern flashed through his eyes. “Well, I can’t make it come true, but I can and will promise it.”
“Why?”
“Because she knows the hay we’ve cut will lose at least half its value if it rains before we get it baled and out of the field.”
It sat well with Grey that Aaron seemed to care how the farm was doing. He’d never seen that in him before.
“Grey, would you give him a lift home?” Lena asked. “After cutting hay all day, he walked here.”
Grey folded the papers and shoved them back into his pocket. He knew that underneath Lennie’s request to give Aaron a ride was her desire for Grey to spend a little time with his son’s grandparents. After the way Michael, as head of the school board, had refused to stand up for her last year, he found it illogical that she cared so much about him and Dora. But he appreciated that she did.
“Sure.”
Fourteen
From the dessert booth in Ada’s front yard, Cara kept an eye on the road, looking for Ephraim. When the sun finally went down, the temperatures dropped, but humidity clung to the air as thunder rumbled. The streetlights illuminated the area surrounding Ada’s House, and shots of lightning blazed across the distant sky. The storm seemed to be skirting them.
After a day of helping Deborah and Ada bake in a hot kitchen, she soaked in the cool reprieve. Deborah ran the register, and Cara boxed up the orders as they sold one dessert after another. Customers buzzed everywhere.
She noticed an unfamiliar rig come to a halt about halfway down the block. Amish friends in carriages didn’t park down the block. They used the hitching post or the barn behind the house.
The bishop got out, and a strongbox of heaviness seemed to open inside her. Maybe Sol had stopped by to get a fresh view of Ada’s thriving business. Or maybe he’d come because Trevor had tattled on her.
Ephraim had said not to worry about the fallout. If it became an issue, they’d deal with it one step at a time. Was it any wonder she loved him so? Deciding not to give Trevor another thought, she placed two boxes with shoofly pies on the counter.
“Deb.” Cara taped the order on top of the boxes and grabbed another ticket to fill. “I want to do something really nice for Ephraim.”
“Ya, like what?”
“You’re his sister. I was hoping you’d know.”
“Not a clue. Before moving to Hope Crossing with Ada, I cooked a few meals, did his laundry, washed dishes, and cleaned his house when I wanted to do something nice for him. Those are things guys appreciate.”
“We agreed I wouldn’t go in his house fo
r more than a minute or two when I’m in Dry Lake, not until after we’re married.” She watched the bishop slowly wind his way toward her. “No sense inviting trouble, especially since I’m a magnet for it.”
“I could go with you.”
Cara shook her head. “Cleaning or cooking for him isn’t the kind of gift I’m looking for.”
“What are you looking for?”
Ada hurried out to meet the bishop and redirected his steps.
“I don’t know. Something.” She gazed up at the evening sky. By nightfall a new moon would be somewhere, invisible to the naked eye. How long had it been since she and Ephraim had enjoyed the night sky through his telescope? He had set it up in his hiddy, which was off-limits to her for now because of its secluded nature. “Oh, I’ve got it!”
Deborah jumped, dropping some of the customer’s change on the counter. Laughing, she picked it up and handed it to the man. After thanking him for his purchase, she turned to Cara. “What’s your idea?”
“Let’s have a picnic tomorrow night. All of us—Ada, Israel, Lena, you, Jonathan, Ephraim, Lori, and me. We’ll go up to the mountain, spread out blankets, eat lots of food, play some games, and stargaze.”
“He’ll love that … I think. Won’t he?”
“Are you saying I know your brother better than you?”
“You know him better than anyone.”
Cara elbowed her gently. “Good answer, Deb. And, yes, he will totally enjoy an evening like that.” She slid half a dozen cookies into a bag. “There isn’t a problem with us doing all that on a Sunday, right?”
“No. It’d be a fellowship for singles, not much different from people having a singing at their home. And we’ll have the necessary chaperones because Ada and Israel will be there.”
“How will we get everything up that mountain?”
“I’ll get Jonathan to bring us a cart.”
“Perfect.”
Cara kept watching for Ephraim. She’d made supper for him, and it waited in a warm oven. When he arrived, they’d take the food to one of the picnic tables set up for customers under the large oak in the side yard, and she’d sit with him while he ate. But the desire to do something really nice for him had been on her mind since he’d left on Wednesday morning, physically and mentally exhausted. In the three days since, they’d only been able to chat for a few minutes here and there on the phone. At least his cabinetry shop and Ada’s barn had phones.
“Cara, sweetheart,” Ada called.
She looked around and spotted Ada standing beside the bishop near his carriage, motioning to her. Her chest tingled. The conversation must require privacy, and seclusion was hard to come by at Ada’s House on a Friday or Saturday.
Whatever was going on, she wasn’t going to let Trevor Atwater do any more damage than he already had.
“Wish me luck,” Cara mumbled.
“Luck?”
“Yeah, like, ‘Break a leg, Cara.’ ”
Deborah’s face scrunched into confusion. “What?”
“You people really need to watch more television.”
Deborah grinned, realizing what Cara was talking about. “Oh, ya? Why don’t you tell the bishop that?”
Cara headed for Ada, wishing she knew some trade secrets about acting.
“Hey, Cara,” Deb called.
Cara turned.
“Break a sweat.” Deborah suppressed a smile, feigning innocence. They hadn’t stopped sweating night and day for weeks.
“Thanks.”
Before Cara got halfway to the rig, Ada met her. “He’d like to talk with you, alone.” Ada straightened Cara’s apron, looking her straight in the eyes. “Mind your manners, and think before you speak.” She said the words lightly, but the motherly look in her eyes conveyed much more. Ada hugged her, then excused herself. Cara walked to bishop’s rig.
“You’ve been good for her,” he said.
“She’s been good for me too.”
“When Mahlon left the way he did, I wasn’t sure how we could help her or Deborah survive it. You pulled off a marvel. And I want you to know I’ve seen a good heart in you, as good as any Amish person I’m responsible for.”
“Did you know Ada prayed for me from the moment she heard my mom was pregnant? I think her prayers are the only reason I found my way to Dry Lake.”
“Very possible. I know they were part of God’s plan to get you here.” He straightened his suit jacket. “I also think God had more in mind than changing just your life when He brought you here. We’ve all been changed for the better … all except your Daed.”
Trevor had told on her. But to whom?
“What do you mean?” She had a good idea, but she didn’t want to assume anything and end up volunteering information.
“I understand Trevor Atwater came by here earlier this week and learned news that was very upsetting.”
“It’s old news, and the fact that he discovered it twenty years after the event shows how careless he has been with following up.”
“Perhaps we should all meet together and talk.”
“Why? It’s settled. He wanted to know what happened, and I told him.”
“Did you forgive him?”
“He didn’t come to be forgiven.”
“True. But when he discovered the truth—that you had been abandoned—I’m sure it was difficult for him.”
For him? She was the one who’d had to survive her childhood. All he had to do was hear about it.
“He needs your forgiveness, Cara, and it’s the godly thing to do. You understand that, right?”
The idea sickened her, but how long would it take to say the words—a few minutes, an hour at the most? She could do that with her worst enemy.
“Are you ready to forgive him?” Sol asked.
No. A thousand times no. But she couldn’t tell him that. If she had a choice to say anything other than yes, she would. Her mouth went dry. “Yes. I am.”
“Good.”
Ephraim got out of Robbie’s car, and her heart turned a flip. He’d be relieved that she’d agreed to face her father and meet the bishop’s expectations.
“Perhaps it’d be good for you to spend a little time with him,” the bishop said.
What? No way! The words begged to leave her mouth, but she didn’t let them.
“He is your Daed, and you’ve been separated from him for twenty years.”
Ephraim came up to them, and Sol shook his hand.
“How’s everything going?” Ephraim asked.
“Good, I think. Cara?”
“Yeah. Good.” Her chest tightened again. Lying didn’t come as easily as it used to.
“Cara and Trevor are going to spend two or three evenings together over the next few weeks.”
Ephraim’s eyes widened, and disbelief was written across his face.
Cara’s hand moved to her hip, and she kept telling herself to lower it. She clutched at the only straw she could think of. “Don’t you people have some sort of regulation against an Englischer spending too much time in an Amish home?”
“He’s hurting, and you’ve added to it, Cara. You need to do what is necessary to send him on his way in peace. And then peace will come to you and your home.”
“Why would you want me spending time with an alcoholic?”
“He said he hasn’t touched a drink in more than ten years.”
“And you believe him?” she spat. “Forgive me. I’m just not sure he’s capable of being honest. If he thinks I’m as naive as my mom was, he’s mistaken.”
Sol ran his hand down his beard. “What Trevor says may or may not be true. But the other night when he showed up at Emma Riehl’s, Preacher Alvin witnessed a man broken by the words of one of our own, and we must make things right.”
“Oh, come on.” She put both hands on her hips. “He’s upset that Emma and Levi never came for me like they agreed.” She pointed a finger at him. “No one is laying Trevor’s remorse and so-called brokenness on me.”
Sol glanced at Ephraim and took a deep breath. “It’s not just for Trevor but for you too. It’s also for Emma and Levi. They’ve struggled with guilt since you found your way here. Can you imagine what it was like for them to realize that the confusing conversation they had with your dad twenty years ago was a serious request to come pick you up at the bus station? After agreeing to come, they discounted the conversation, thinking he was drunk, and chose not to follow through. If you can’t forgive your father, you’re saying you haven’t forgiven them. And all three of them need your forgiveness.”
Cara did feel bad for Emma and Levi. But the bulk of the misunderstanding was Trevor’s fault, not theirs. She huffed. “Fine. I’ll sit with him for a couple of evenings, but I won’t mollycoddle him.”
He smiled. “That’s not at all the attitude I was hoping for.”
“I’m trying.” A lump in her throat made it hard to talk.
“Keep fighting the good fight, Cara, and you’ll win. So I’ll bring your Daed here tomorrow?”
“No!” She jolted at her tone. “I … I’m not ready.”
“Monday, then?”
He had no idea what he was asking. She couldn’t stand the idea of looking Trevor Atwater in the eyes and apologizing. Not yet. She needed time to brace herself … or at least learn how to be a decent actor.
She nodded. “On Monday.”
Fifteen
In the steamy bathroom Aaron applied shaving cream to his face. He ran his razor under the hot water before swiping it down his cheeks.
He and Sylvi had finished cutting the hayfield yesterday, and tomorrow he’d begin the rounds of stirring it until it was dry enough to bale, but today had been a peaceful between Sunday. Nonchurch Sundays always had an extra restfulness about them, but he’d be ready to attend next week’s meeting.
He’d asked Lena to invite Sylvia to a gathering of some sort so she could make some friends and have an evening away from this blasted farm. When Lena had come by last night, he’d taken her to the cabin to introduce her to Sylvi, and Lena had invited her to come to Ada’s House today for a group picnic on the mountain. Aaron hadn’t expected Lena to invite both of them to such a nice event.
The Harvest of Grace Page 12