The Hope of Refuge

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “I didn’t think the Amish believed in violence.”

  Oh, honey, nobody believes in violence. Some think the outcome justifies it. Amish don’t. I was only joking. Even Amish people joke about things.”

  “I guess I don’t really know the Amish, do I?”

  “No, and they don’t know you.” She placed a hand on Cara’s back. “Maybe that will change with time. I’ve got an appointment to look at a certain place tomorrow afternoon. I’ve been told it needs a lot of painting and fixing up, but it has plenty of bedrooms, bathrooms, and a huge kitchen. The Realtor says it’s a bit rough, but the owner is interested in exchanging work for rent, which is where you could come in. Mahlon says you’re quite good at painting. Maybe you can live and work there with me.”

  “I… I…” Searching for the most respectful way to refuse, Cara fiddled with the edges of the letters.

  Ada looked at her as if reading her thoughts. “Just think about it. Okay?”

  “You’re very generous. But wouldn’t you get in trouble for that? I mean, Ephraim’s been shunned over his dealings with me. What’d happen if I moved in with you?”

  Ada drew a deep breath. “I won’t lie. It might be an issue even though I’m not a single Amish man. You’ve got quite a reputation of being worldly and the bishop’s going to have lots of reservations. But I can work it out. I think.”

  “I have money now. And I really think I should leave. I’ve caused enough trouble in everyone’s life.”

  She tapped the notebook. “You should read that. Your dad took the time to write it, and it’s been sitting here in Dry Lake for ten years. Seems to me it’s begging to be read.” She stood. “I need to go, and you need to think.” She headed for the door and then paused. “Could I take your birth certificate and your parents’ marriage license with me?”

  “Why?”

  “I have an idea.” She looked unsure about saying more.

  Cara held them out to her. “Sure. Why not?”

  The screen door banged shut as Ada left. Cara lifted the spiral-bound notebook and stared at it. She didn’t really want to read it. Not anytime soon. The desire to pack her things and get out of Dry Lake was so strong she thought it might lift her straight off the chair.

  But more than any other feeling was the desire to see her parents, if only through the eyes of a man who admitted he struggled with addiction. Torn between curiosity and resentment, she opened the thin cardboard cover.

  I met your mother when she was nineteen years old. She was the most striking woman I’d ever seen, with brown eyes and blond hair that she parted down the middle and wore in a bun with the white prayer Kapp. I was an Englischer by her standards, and she was in love with another man. She was more loyal and honest than anyone I’ve ever known, but she wasn’t perfect. Neither of us was. She’d had her heart broken and was desperate to leave Dry Lake, so I took her away from there. She regretted that decision, and I understood, but by then we were married, and neither of us could undo the choices we’d made. I hope—and at times dare to pray—that you found Dry Lake to be as wonderful a place to grow up as she remembered from her childhood.

  The words released a lifetime of bottled sentiments, and she closed the book. When she’d longed to feel something besides cold and emptiness during her teen years, this overload wasn’t what she had in mind. Confusion swirled in a dozen directions, pulling at her to believe different things. Desperate to escape before she suffocated under the swell of emotions, she went into the bedroom and stuffed her and Lori’s things into the backpack. Ada’s mothering voice washed over her, making some tiny fragment of Cara wish she could stay.

  When she went outside, she heard Ephraim and Lori talking in the hiddy. She walked to the entryway “I’m ready.” His eyes met hers, causing a fresh surge of tormenting feelings. He’d been a good friend in spite of the trouble her presence had caused him. “Will you take me, or do I need to hire a driver?”

  He slowly rose, looking disappointed in her decision. “I’ll take you.”

  “Where are we going, Mom?”

  As Ephraim headed toward the barn, Cara moved to the bench swing and patted the empty place beside her. Lori snuggled against her.

  “Are we going to the Garretts’ again?”

  “Tell me about your walk.”

  Lori shared her excitement over what Ephraim was teaching Better Days. “‘From and me are going to find a home for all the pups next week.”

  “Lori, sweetie, it’s been great staying here, but Ephraim needs his home back, and we need to find a place of our own. We have money now, so we’ll find a good place, okay?”

  Lori jumped to her feet, fists tight, hurt and anger etched across her tiny body. “No.”

  With the backpack on her shoulder, Cara lifted her daughter’s rigid body and toted her out of the hedged area. Ephraim brought the carriage to a stop. Lori arched her back and screamed, causing Cara to nearly drop her as she eased her feet onto the ground.

  “Get in the buggy, Lori.”

  She ran to Ephraim and grabbed his hand. “No!”

  Cara refused to look in Ephraim’s eyes. They said the same thing Lori’s did—that Cara was wrong. “Don’t say no to me again.”

  “I won’t go. So there. And I didn’t say the word no.”

  Cara had forgotten how sassy her daughter could be. Lori clung tighter to Ephraim’s hand. “I got ‘From and a dog, and I’m not leaving!”

  “One… two…”

  Lori began a panicked cry, afraid her mother would reach the number ten. Cara had no idea what was supposed to happen if she reached it. Lori had never disobeyed past the number four.

  “Stop.” She held up one hand, still clinging to Ephraim with the other. “There ain’t nobody after us, and I’m not going.”

  Cara’s world tilted. Her daughter knew they’d been running from Mike? She looked to Ephraim before sinking to her knees. “All right. I hear you.” She looped her daughter’s hair behind her ears. “Who do you think would be after us, Lorabean?”

  “The police. That lady that came here, Ms. Forrester, said they wouldn’t come looking for us.”

  Cara’s heart skipped several beats. Lori didn’t know about the stalker after all.

  Cara looked to Ephraim, searching for answers he didn’t have.

  He placed his hand on Lori’s head. “Take Better Days inside and get him a bowl of water, okay? I need to talk with your mother.”

  “You better listen to him.” Lori shook her finger at her mother. “Or I’m never talking to you again.”

  The screen door banged shut, and Ephraim helped Cara to her feet. “She’s not ready to leave.”

  “She’ll be fine. And we can’t stay here. I’ll only make things worse for you. Your people aren’t talking to you. You can’t work. You can’t even see your family or Anna Mary. You should be shoving me into that buggy and promising Lori it’s the right thing to do. She’d believe you.”

  “I won’t lie to her to make you feel better.”

  “Then lie to her for her sake!”

  “You’re being stubborn.”

  “You’re being just as bad, insisting I stay when we both know I should go.”

  “I’ve plowed the fields with mules more cooperative than you.”

  Chafing with frustration and hurt, Cara glanced to Ephraim. If he had an inkling how betrayed she felt by her relatives, he’d help her get out of here before she lashed out at them and caused him more trouble in the process.

  Images of Ephraim climbing the tree with her as a child floated across her mind. “I can’t stand the churning emotions inside me. It’s like someone opened a dam and I’m stuck in the pool at the bottom of the falls.”

  “I don’t have to imagine it. I feel it.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “It’s enough to rip an ox apart, and I don’t want you facing it alone.”

  Her eyes burned with the threat of tears, but she willed them away. She pulled her hand free. “Whatever it is y
ou want from me, I can’t give it.”

  “We’re not talking about what anyone wants here. That passed by so long ago nothing can repair it. You need help getting your feet under you, emotionally and financially. I give you my word, I’ll ask for no more than that.”

  She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of spring: wind, birds, the distant mooing of cows. Wishing she could pray, she took a deep breath.

  Ephraim placed his hand on her shoulder. “Think of the difference this could make for Lori.”

  Unable to reject his reasoning, she nodded. “Okay. For a little while. But not here in your house.”

  “Ada’s determined to find a place to rent. She really likes the idea of you staying with her.”

  “I’ll help her get settled and paint whatever rooms she wants. But when the painting job is done, it’ll be time for me to find a place away from here.”

  “In the meantime I’ll do my best to help Lori accept that and adjust.” His eyes said he meant it. “I’m sure she won’t be mad at you if we do it right.”

  The need to cry seemed to vanish, and she couldn’t help but smile at him. “Using Lori to get your way? You cheat.”

  “Yep, and I win too.”

  But she couldn’t hold on to the faint smile. It wouldn’t be long before she’d regret going with this plan; she was sure of it.

  Ada opened the oven and removed a pie. Haunting questions kept looping through her mind, but she had no answers. Not yet.

  She set the pie on a cooling plate and turned off the gas stove. Her baking was done for today, and, like always, every bit of space on her kitchen table, chairs, and countertops was covered in baked goods. The bakery’s courier would come by soon, but Ada had too much to get done to wait. She scribbled a note and taped it to her front door, telling the courier to let herself in. They’d handled it this way a few times over the years.

  With Mondays orders filled, she changed into a fresh dress and apron and headed out the door. It was three thirty by the time she had her horse hitched and was on her way. But she didn’t want to hire a driver. She needed time to think, and for her the gentle speed and rhythmic sounds of a horse-drawn carriage always helped.

  She’d let Mahlon make decisions for her for so long that her desire to put a stop to it had her thoughts running in circles. If she could just understand herself and why she’d made the kinds of decisions she had in the past, maybe she could find a few answers for her future. Baffled or not, she had to keep moving toward helping Cara. And she knew if she wanted to ease Cara’s pain and make a difference for her and Lori, it’d begin with the church leaders and Cara’s uncles. So when she left Cara yesterday, she’d gone to see the bishop. She’d talked to him about finding a place of her own and having Cara move in with her. He listened patiently, but then he told her that her plan wasn’t a good idea, which meant no.

  It would be impossible for Ada to become a church member of the Hope Crossing district without being a member in good standing in the Dry Lake district, so she couldn’t ignore his stance. After talking with him for nearly an hour, explaining that people’s reactions to Cara were based more on rumors than facts, she showed him the documents Cara had loaned her. He said little, but he decided to have a districtwide meeting tonight. In a little over four hours, everyone would gather at Levi Riehl’s farm.

  But Cara was only one issue weighing on her.

  Ada gently pulled on the reins, bringing the rig to a stop as she stared at a fork in the road. To her left the road headed straight out of Dry Lake. By steering right, she could stop by Israel Kauffman’s before heading to Hope Crossing.

  She couldn’t keep living based on what Mahlon thought he wanted from her, but if she wasn’t that woman, who was she?

  The Realtor would meet her at the rental place in an hour and a half And here she sat, feeling almost as confused as the day her husband was killed. Israel’s wife died that day too. Did he ever have times of feeling as lost now as he did then?

  He probably didn’t. Grown children and even a few grandchildren surrounded him on all sides. He’d freely admit he had strong support that kept a smile on his face most days. His middle daughter, Lena, was his biggest help, not just because she handled the chores and was so good to her younger siblings, but because she radiated happiness and humor all the time.

  Lena and Deborah were cousins, and aside from Amish traditions they’d been raised very differently, but both took pleasure in trying to bring joy to others. Deborah’s sense of humor was subtle compared to Lena’s more boisterous approach where she tried to make people roar with laughter. Ada remembered one night at her home when Deborah, Mahlon, and Lena were playing board games. As out of character as it was for Mahlon, Lena’s wit kept him chuckling for the entire evening.

  Worry for Mahlon nagged her. He continued to search, for… something. Peace? Stability? Something that would stop him from wavering like wheat in a field. Whatever it was, Ada had begun a search of her own.

  She’d never considered herself a strong woman, one who knew what she wanted and went after it. Whatever her husband had wanted, that’s what she wanted—even down to the flavor of ice cream she chose at the local creamery. After he died, her personality type had made it easy for Mahlon to lead her in whatever direction he wanted.

  What had made her be someone who never trusted her own thoughts or desires or dreams? Why had she feared being wrong so much that she let others be wrong for her?

  She didn’t know, but she had a fresh chance to follow her heart, especially where Cara was concerned. It was time to trust her gut and find a way to follow her heart.

  If she went to every Amish home in Dry Lake and asked their opinion of what she should do next, some would think one way and some the other.

  But what did she think?

  Finally ready to trust her own desires, she slapped the reins against the horse’s back.

  It was time to talk to Israel. As a former homebuilder, he knew housing structure and probably some of what it’d take to expand her business. He had a way of giving sound advice when asked without trying to sway the person one way or the other. That was Israel—state the facts and let the person decide.

  When she pulled onto his driveway, she saw him and several of his children sitting on the porch, casually visiting on this warm Monday before suppertime. She knew his family tended to have an early meal and then he’d return to his work of building furniture.

  He rose from his chair and walked to her, studying her face intently.

  Ada.” He nodded. “This is a first.”

  “You may wish for it to be the last too.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, looking rather amused. “Doubtful. What’s up?”

  “I know this is awfully bold of me, but I got some things on my mind, and I need a man’s… No, I need your opinion.”

  Of course. I thought maybe you’d come by to make sure I’d heard about tonight’s meeting. Care to come inside?”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to Hope Crossing to look at a place. I was wondering if you might go with me.”

  “You’re thinking of moving to Hope Crossing? That’s quite a piece from here.”

  “About an hour by carriage.”

  “You want to find a home that far away?”

  “I’m aiming to do what I should have done ten or more years ago—find a place where I can expand my baking business. Better to get started at forty-three than not at all.”

  He smiled and took a step away from the buggy. “Lena, I’m going with Ada. I’ll be back in about three hours.”

  “Supper will be ready in twenty minutes.” Lena stood. “Do you and Ada want to eat with us first?”

  Ada fidgeted with the reins. “The Realtor is meeting me there in about ninety minutes.”

  He looked back toward his house. “We need to go on, Lena.”

  “Can I fix you some sandwiches to take with you?”

  He looked up at Ada. “Are you the least bit hungry?”


  Although she’d spent her day baking, she’d eaten almost nothing. As she began to make her own decisions, she already felt stronger. “Ya, I think I am.”

  “Good. Wait right here.” Ada stayed in the buggy while Israel went inside. It wasn’t but a few minutes before he came back out with a basket in one hand and a toolbox in the other. As he set the items inside the wagon and climbed in, she noticed he’d changed from his more casual clothes into pressed ones.

  Tempted to pass him the reins, she clutched them tighter. She needed to steer her own buggy, even if she made mistakes and didn’t handle it as smoothly as the person next to her would. Then again, maybe she’d handle it better. When she thought of all Cara had gone through—fighting to hold on to Lori and not caring if people misjudged her and yet seemingly remaining tender-hearted in so many ways—it did something inside Ada.

  Israel propped his arm on the back of the bench seat. “So Mahlon’s up for moving to Hope Crossing?”

  Ada tapped the reins against the horse’s back, trying to gain some speed for the upcoming hill. “I didn’t ask him. I’m doing this on my own. And even though I’m not sure what this is, I want Cara Moore, Malinda Riehl’s daughter, to be a part of it. When I have a set plan, I’ll talk to the bishop again about allowing Cara to live with me.”

  As he asked a few questions about Cara and she answered, he pulled a couple of sandwiches out of the basket and passed one to her. The conversation flowed easily although Israel acted a bit nervous. He’d never seemed that way before. Maybe she should have let him guide the rig.

  Once they were in Hope Crossing, Israel read the directions to her until they stopped in front of the saddest-looking house she’d ever seen. It sat on a large corner lot, with roads and sidewalks on two sides and a cornfield on another side. She couldn’t see what was behind the home. It was huge; she’d give it that much. Two stories of unpainted clapboard with crooked black shutters and one half-fallen column holding up a wraparound porch.

  “You say that girl paints?”