The Hope of Refuge

by Cindy Woodsmall

  But maybe he didn’t. A tender sprig of hope took root. If she could latch on to that memory—if it was even real—she might have a place to go. Somewhere Mike couldn’t find her and she wouldn’t owe anyone her life in exchange for food and shelter. Doubts rippled through her, trying to dislodge her newfound hope. It was probably a movie she’d watched. Remembering any part of her life, anything true, before her mama died seemed as impossible as getting free of Mike. She’d been only eight when her mother was killed by a hit-and-run driver as she crossed a street. Things became so hard after that, anything before seemed like shadows and blurs.

  As she begged for answers, faint scenes appeared before her. A kitchen table spread with fresh food. A warm breeze streaming through an unfamiliar window. Sheets flapping on a clothesline. Muffled laughter as a boy jumped into a creek.

  Was it just a daydream? Or was it somewhere she’d once been, a place she couldn’t reach because she couldn’t remember?

  Her heart raced. She had to find the answer.

  Mike pulled the phone from her hand, a sneer overriding the insecurity he tried hard to cover. “You’re more afraid of one thing than anything else. And I know what that is.” He eased the receiver into its cradle and flipped the diary open. “If you don’t want nothing to cause the social workers to take her…” He tapped his huge finger on a photo of Lori. “Think about it, Care Bear. And I’ll see you at your place when your shift is over.” He strode out the door.

  Cara slumped against the counter. No matter how hard she tried, she landed in the same place over and over again—in the clutches of a crazy man.

  In spite of the absurdity of it, she longed for a cigarette. It would help her think and calm her nerves.

  Clasped in her fist was the cash the two men had given for their drinks. She rubbed it between her fingers. If she slipped out the back door, no one at Mac’s would have a clue where she went. She could pick up Lori and disappear.

  Ephraim and Anna Mary gently swayed back and forth in his yard. Chains ran from the large oak tree overhead and attached to the porch swing. The metal chain felt cool inside his palm, and the new spring leaves rustled overhead. He held out his free hand to Anna Mary. Without a word she smiled and slid her soft hand into his.

  This small sanctuary where they sat was surrounded by tall hedges on three sides. The fourth side was open and had a view of a pasture, livestock, and a large pond. The hiddy—as he called it—afforded privacy that was hard to come by on Mast property. Ephraim had created the concealed area when he returned to the farm nine years ago, appreciating that his family wouldn’t enter unless invited.

  Storm clouds moved across the night sky, threatening to block his view of the stars and the clear definition of the crescent moon. Even without his telescope, he could pick out the Sea of Crisis and to its left the Sea of Fertility.

  Anna Mary squeezed his hand. “What are you thinking about?”

  “The gathering thunderhead.” He gestured toward the southwest. “See it? In a few minutes it’ll ruin my stargazing, but the spring showers will be just what the corn seed needs.”

  She angled her head, watching him. “I don’t understand what you see night after night of looking at the same sky.”

  During the few evenings she joined him out here, she paid little attention to the awesome display spread out across the heavens. Her interest in an evening like this was to try to get inside his head. She wasn’t one to say plain out what she thought or wanted, but she prodded him to talk. It tended to grate on his nerves, but he understood.

  “Vastness. Expanse beyond the darkness. Each star is a sun, and its light shines like day where it is. I see our God, who has more to Him than we can begin to understand.”

  She squeezed his hand. “You know what I see? A man who is growing restless with the life he’s chosen.”

  Inside the Amish ways that had called him home years ago, he’d found peace. But at twenty-four she wanted promises. He’d been four years younger than she was now when he began moving about the country, free of all Amish restraints. But when he was twenty-three, his stepmother had called, telling him his Daed was ill and the family needed him.

  He had to come home. His Daed had caught a virus that moved into his heart and severely damaged it. Ephraim needed to take over his father’s cabinetry business and provide for his Daed, pregnant stepmother, and a houseful of younger siblings. It didn’t matter that part of the reason he had left was because he disagreed with his father remarrying so soon after his mother died. And here he was, nine years later, still not quite fitting into the role forced upon him.

  The sound of a horse and buggy pulling onto the gravel driveway caused him to stand and head that way. Anna Mary followed closely behind. As they crossed through the small opening of hedges, he saw his sister and Mahlon pulling the rig to a stop.

  Deborah held up a plate covered in aluminum foil. “Birthday cake.” She showed him a knife, clearly hopeful of celebrating this long-awaited day. Mahlon stepped out of the carriage and helped Deborah down.

  Ephraim had known today was on its way, but it was hard to believe the time had come to give her what she wanted.

  Two years ago, at nineteen, she’d come to him, wanting to talk about marrying Mahlon. Since it wasn’t Amish tradition for a girl to ask for her father’s blessing, let alone a brother’s, it’d surprised him. But he’d found himself unwilling to lie to her and yet unable to tell her his concerns, so he had simply told her she needed to wait. Then he’d grabbed his coat and headed for the door… and away from Deborah’s mounting frustrations.

  But she’d followed him. “Ephraim, we aren’t finished talking about this.”

  He’d slid into his jacket. “Actually I think we are.”

  The disappointment in her face had been hard for him to ignore.

  “Until when?” she’d asked.

  Convinced a couple of years would be enough, he’d said, “When you turn twenty-one.”

  If she’d decided to ignore him on the matter, he couldn’t have stopped her. But she’d thought his only reason for telling her to wait was that the family needed her, so she’d done as he’d wanted without question. Today she turned twenty-one, and she’d just spent most of the day celebrating her good fortune with Mahlon and his mother, Ada. Sometimes Ephraim wasn’t sure who Deborah loved the most—Mahlon or Ada.

  But his sister stood in front of him now, hoping he’d say she was free to marry during the next wedding season. He glanced to Anna Mary who waited quietly. Her eyes radiated trust in him and hope for Deborah and Mahlon.

  Ephraim had two sisters between his and Deborah’s age, but they’d married a few years back and moved to Amish communities in other states. When it came to marriage, no one had interfered with their desires.

  In spite of his remaining reservations, Ephraim motioned. “Kumm then, and I’ll light a fire and brew us some coffee. Then we’ll talk.”

  Deborah passed the cake to Mahlon and mumbled something about the dessert that made Anna Mary laugh softly.

  A horn tooted, causing all of them to pause. A car pulled into the driveway behind Mahlon’s carriage, and Robbie rolled down the window. “Hey I took my truck in like we talked about, but the mechanic has to keep it for a few days. Do I need to rent one to drive you to a job tomorrow?”

  Ephraim shook his head. “No. Mahlon and I’ll load a wagon and hitch horses to it. We’re putting in cabinets at the Wyatt place about three miles from here. I have work lined up at the shop for you and Grey.”

  “Ah, you must’ve known.”

  “Ya. When you mentioned the mechanic, I rearranged the schedule. It seems every time you get work done to make your truck run better, it doesn’t run at all for a while. If it’s not ready by Tuesday afternoon, we’ll have to rent one. We’ve got a job in Carlisle on Wednesday. You know, I never have mechanical problems like this when I take my horse in to the smithy.”

  A toothy grin covered Robbie’s face. “The truck should be ready
before then. I gave the mechanic the shop’s phone number and told him to call us as soon as it’s ready.” Robbie motioned toward Mahlon. “So you’ll go with the big boss, and I’m working with the foreman. They don’t intend for us to have any horsing-around time, do they?”

  “They never do,” Mahlon scoffed.

  Robbie laughed and started backing out of the driveway. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

  “Sure thing.” Ephraim turned his attention back to the group. “Anyone besides me ready for some cake?”

  Deborah smoothed the folds of her apron. “Well… I’m more interested in talking to you about what we came here for.”

  Ephraim nodded. Mahlon had set his cabinetry work aside and left the shop hours earlier than usual today. Unfortunately, it seemed that Mahlon found it too easy to leave work behind and go do whatever pleased him on any given day, regardless of how much Ephraim needed him. But his sister’s love for Mahlon never wavered, and it was time Ephraim trusted her instinct.

  Mahlon looked a bit unsure of himself. “She’s twenty-one today.”

  “So she is.” Ephraim shook his hand, silently assuring him he’d ask for no further delays. “Then it’s time plans were made.”

  Deborah threw her arms around Ephraim’s neck. “Denki.”

  Her thank-you was unnecessary, but he returned the hug. “Gern gschehne.”

  She released him and hugged Anna Mary, both of them smiling and whispering excitedly.

  “Ephraim?” His stepmothers voice called to him.

  He looked back toward his Daed’s house and saw Becca crossing the field that separated their home from his. Between business and family some days he didn’t get a break. But he’d put boundaries around parts of his life, and that helped. Of his family members, only Deborah was allowed to enter his home at will, because she tended to ask for very little and always did something helpful—like cook supper or wash dishes.

  “Is Simeon with you?” Becca hollered.

  “I haven’t seen him since before suppertime.” But he knew he wasn’t far. His brother had a secret—an innocent kind that eight-year-old boys liked to keep.

  She continued toward them, and they moved to meet her halfway.

  “He’s been missing since then.” Her hands shook with nervousness as she wiped them on her apron. “This is the third time in two weeks he’s disappeared like this. You have to put a stop to this, Ephraim, before he lands your father in the hospital again. He just doesn’t seem to understand how frail his Daed is.”

  “Does Daed know he’s missing?”

  Becca shook her head. “Not yet. I hope to keep it from him. And when Simeon gets home, I’m tempted to send him to bed without supper.”

  “Don’t say anything to Daed. Simeon’s not far. When I find him, I’ll see to it he doesn’t do this again.”

  “Denki.” Without another word she left.

  Mahlon looked across the property. “You want help, Ephraim?”

  “No sense in that. Just stay here and help Deborah get a fire going in the cookstove and a pot of coffee on to percolate.” He looked to Anna Mary. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  “If you don’t take too long, we’ll save you some cake.” Anna Mary cocked an eyebrow, mocking a threat. He suppressed a smile and mirrored her raised eyebrow.

  He started to leave when he thought of something. He pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket. “Can I take a piece of that with me?”

  “Does this mean you’re planning on being gone too long?” Anna Mary removed the aluminum foil.

  His eyes met hers, and he chuckled.

  Deborah cut a slice of cake and laid it in the handkerchief. “Here you go.”

  “Denki.”

  Mahlon chuckled. “You gonna bribe the boy to come home?”

  “Something like that.” Ephraim slid the squishy stuff into his baggy pocket. “Be back soon.” He strode off toward the back fields.

  He walked between the rows of freshly planted corn and onto what he still referred to as Levina’s land. Although she’d not been related to his family, Levina had always been like a grandmother to him. When she passed away, he bought the old place, mostly because it connected to the property where he’d built his home.

  Under the gentle winds of the night, thoughts of his life before his father’s illness nagged at him. When he’d been called to come home, it gave him a reason to leave a world that offered as many different types of imprisonment as it did freedoms. But what bothered him was that each year since he’d returned, his family seemed to need him more, not less.

  When he walked down Levina’s old driveway, his attention lingered on the conjoined trees that stood nearby—full of majesty and recollections. Habit dictated that he run his hand across the bark as he passed by. Just one touch caused a dozen memories.

  Flickers of dim light shone through the slits in the abandoned barn, and he was confident he’d found his brother—half brother, actually. After he crossed the road, he pushed against the barn door, causing it to creak as he opened it.

  With a lap full of puppies, Simeon glanced up. “Ephraim, look. I’ve been working with ’em today, and I’ve spotted a really good one for ya.”

  “And I spotted a Mamm who’s ready to send you to bed without your supper. It’s after dark, Sim. What are ya thinking? If she finds out what’s causing you to run off, she’ll haul these dogs out of here. And the pound is just as likely to kill them as find them a home.”

  “The mama dog is missing.” Simeon picked up the smallest puppy and hugged it. “I saw somebody outside the barn while I was walking this way. He took off when he spotted me. You think he stole the mama?”

  “Makes no sense to take an old mama dog and leave the pups.” Ephraim placed the puppy in the haystack where Simeon had made a little bed for the mutts. “Look, don’t pull another stunt like this—staying out past dark and making your Mamm worry—or I’ll put these pups in the auction myself. Got it?” Even though he was twenty-four years older than Simeon, he hated it when he had to sound like a parent. He should be a brother and a friend, but his role was more than just a provider.

  Simeon’s eyes filled with tears, and he nodded.

  Ephraim picked up the lantern. “Now, let’s go.”

  His brother’s shoulders drooped as they left the barn. Without another word Simeon headed for the edge of the road to cross it. Ephraim went toward the back pasture.

  “Ephraim?”

  He paused. “Well, come on. We can’t find the mama dog going that way. I just came from there.”

  Simeon wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

  Ephraim pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket. “I brought cake. If we get anywhere near her, I’ll bet she’ll get a whiff of this and come running.”

  The noise and busyness of the Port Authority Bus Terminal raked a feeling of déjà vu over Cara. She’d been in the building plenty of times before, but this time she sensed… something odd.

  With her diary clutched in one arm and her other hand holding her daughter’s hand, she walked past shops, restaurants, and ticket counters. The strange feeling grew stronger as she stepped on the escalator and began the descent to the subway level.

  Suddenly it was her father holding her hand, not Lori. Memories unrolled inside her. A set of escalators taking her and her dad deeper into the belly of the city A brown paper bag, the top of it scrunched like a rope inside her hand. They kept going and going—hundreds, maybe thousands, of people all around her not caring one bit that her mom had died last week. Her father went into a café and set her on a chair. “Dry your tears, Cara. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

  He pulled the map out of his jacket pocket, the one he had drawn for her the night before and had gotten her to help him color. He spread it out on the table. “See, this is right where you are, New York City’s bus station. A woman is coming for you. Her name is Emma Riehl. The bus will take you and her southwest. You’ll probably change buses in Harrisburg and keep
heading west for another hour or so. Right here.” His huge finger tapped the paper.

  She must have said something odd because he gaped at her, and then he ordered a drink. He drank until his words slurred, then he walked her to a bench and demanded she stay put, promising Emma was coming.

  And he left.

  The terror of watching him walk away faded as the hours passed. Afraid Emma might show up and leave without her if she didn’t stay put, she left the spot where her father had set her only long enough to go to the bathroom when she absolutely had to.

  Later she fell asleep, and a man in a uniform woke her. He had a woman beside him, and she hoped it was Emma. But it wasn’t, and they took her to a place where rows of metal bunk beds were half-filled with mean kids who’d never had anybody show up for them either.

  Feeling Lori tug at her hand, she looked down into her innocent brown eyes.

  “Are we looking for Kendal, Mom?”

  She shook her head. Her days of meeting up with her friend were over. Kendal’s complete abandonment earlier today had been along time in coming. They’d been close once, starting when they’d shared the same foster-care home for a while, but over the last few years, Kendal had stolen from, lied to, and argued with her a lot. Since they were all each other had in the way of family, Cara had refused to give up. But—

  Lori pointed to a picture. “Are we going somewhere on a bus?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Kendal?”

  “It’s just the two of us this time.”

  “But…”

  “Shh.” Cara gently placed one arm around Lori’s shoulders as they continued walking. Memories of Kendal mocked her, and she felt like an idiot for trying to keep them together as long as she had. She’d always figured life with Kendal was as much like family as she’d ever have. One doesn’t get to pick their family or choose who rescues them. But Kendal had done just that. At nineteen years old she’d opened the grubby door to her tiny, shabby apartment and dared to give a fifteen-year-old runaway food and shelter. The gesture had filled Cara with hope. Without her, she had little chance of making it on her own and no chance of escaping Mike’s grip. But it’d been easier back then to ignore Kendal’s weaknesses—men and drugs. It’d always seemed that she and Kendal were like a lot of siblings in a real family—extreme opposites.