Emma scrunched a fistful of her apron and then released it, over and over again. “She was nineteen with a thousand broken dreams. She always felt abandoned by her Daed because he gave her to Levina to raise. She must have been devastated to be rejected by another man.”
David shrugged. “I still say that Daed did his best when Mamm died giving birth to her. He couldn’t take care of a newborn and the rest of us while holding a job.”
The pain in Levi’s eyes went deep as he put his head in his hands. “We shouldn’t have left her in our Grossmammi Levina’s care all those years. But our house never seemed like a good place for a girl to grow up—all boys and no mother?”
“Malinda made her own choices,” David said.
Several started talking loudly at the same time.
The bishop raised his hands, silencing everyone. “Let’s not forget that Malinda joined the faith, and then she ran off. She broke her vows, regardless of the reason. Still, it sounds as if shock and hurt were the reasons for her decisions, not rebellion.”
Levi stood and began pacing. “For nearly thirty years we’ve believed she lost faith, that she ran around like a tramp. I questioned you, Rueben, because I’d never seen any signs of her being wild, even during her rumschpringe. And you led me to believe we simply never knew her.”
“You decided that on your own. You told me she called not long after leaving and said that she was too ashamed to come home but that Trevor wanted to marry her. According to you, the next and last time you heard from her, she’d written to say she had a little girl.”
Levi pointed at him. “Bywords or silence, sounds to me like you’ve been lying to us for years.”
“I wasn’t trying to lie.”
“You weren’t trying to tell the truth either,” Leroy said.
Rueben gestured with his hands. “Look, I met Leah that summer, and we… we fell for each other. We were going to tell her, but she found out first. Those of you who knew Malinda know how high-strung she was.”
“High-strung?” one of her aunts rang out. “I remember Malinda getting permission for one of her Daed’s hired helpers to drive her to Ohio to see you. The wedding was only three weeks away. Trevor was the driver, and he brought her to you, didn’t he?”
Rueben nodded.
Emma sobbed. “She never returned home after that trip. We assumed she’d planned to run off with Trevor and used visiting you as the excuse to get away. And you helped us believe that. You know you did.”
“You were mean not to tell her how you felt before you kissed someone else.” Leroy shot an accusing look at Rueben. “You and Leah didn’t get married for a year after that. Was that just to make yourself look good? Now that we see who you are, we all know the answer to that. And don’t you tell us our sister was high-strung after nearly three decades of letting us think she left here pregnant.”
“She didn’t have to leave the way she did,” Rueben said. “And she didn’t have to stay gone or marry Trevor. Even when she came back years later, looking for a safe place for Cara, I tried to get her to tell everyone what happened. I wanted to clear it up.”
“You talked to her by yourself when she came back to Dry Lake with Cara? Without me or anyone?” Leah’s tone said it all. She didn’t trust her husband’s heart when it came to Malinda. Ada wondered if Rueben had really been in love with Leah, or if once Malinda discovered him and Leah kissing and left, he felt compelled to marry her. Maybe waiting the year to get married had been more of a grieving time for Rueben than anything else.
Rueben didn’t answer his wife, but Ada figured he would… for a long time to come.
“When Malinda returned with Cara, she didn’t want it set straight. She said it wouldn’t change that her father and brothers didn’t want her returning to Dry Lake and that anything I said would only cause trouble for me and Leah.”
Levi turned to his wife. “She thought we didn’t want her even if we knew the truth?”
David slammed his hand down on the table. “We can’t believe what Rueben is saying about Malinda not wanting to set things straight. He talked to her privately, and we’ll never know what was or wasn’t said, will we?”
Leah stood and folded her arms, her face taut with embarrassment and guilt. “When she came to Dry Lake with Cara, you had just as much opportunity to go talk to her as Rueben did. But you chose not to. All of you. So don’t lay this mess fully on him.”
Ada pulled the documents from the hidden pocket of her dress. “Finding all the right people to blame will not solve even one of the problems facing Cara.” She unfolded the papers. “Trevor and Malinda married several months after they left here. Cara was born fifteen months later. If it’s true that Malinda always felt rejected and you wish you could change that, I’m asking you to start with her grown daughter. And don’t hold what Ephraim’s done against him.”
The bishop looked over the documents again, as if verifying what he’d read earlier. “The ban will not be lifted from Ephraim. We cannot ignore a single man allowing a woman to stay in his home overnight. But we need to do what we can to set things right with Cara, try to heal some of the hurt we’ve caused.”
Ada interlaced her fingers. “I don’t think trying to speak to her face to face is the answer right now. She’s not one to trust people’s motives. She’ll want to know why you’re coming to see her now and not a few days ago. When she figures out that we’ve met to decide what to do and she was the topic of a district meeting, we’ll never get past her defenses.”
“Sounds like she’s as stubborn as her mother,” Leroy said.
The brothers chuckled, breaking some of the tension in the room.
“Ada, you know her better than anyone here,” Emma said. “If she won’t trust us and doesn’t want to speak with us, how do we break through that?”
“Letters, for now. But more than anything, I’d like permission for her to move in with me. I’ve found a place in Hope Crossing.”
Questions came from several of them all at once.
The bishop held up his hand. “You have my approval, Ada.”
The sounds of night—mostly crickets and tree frogs—echoed hour after hour. The kerosene lamp sputtered beside the bed, and Cara’s eyes grew heavy as she read the letters her mother had written to her father. Other correspondence was stacked on the nightstands—ones from her mother to her, from her dad to Cara, from her dad to her mom. She studied them again and again, trying to piece together the missing parts of her life. Through the open window, a summer breeze carried a sweet scent of flowers. Silvery moonbeams lay across the bedspread.
The differences between here and the Bronx were vast, and she could understand why her visit as a child had been chiseled into the recesses of her memory. Compared to the continual sirens, loud neighbors, and locked windows of her place in New York City, this was a vacation spot—except, just like New York, the people had issues. Not the same ones she’d been used to seeing, but problems nonetheless. She had them too. Clearly both her mom and dad did as well. But she’d expected more from a people who avoided worldly goods.
She skimmed a letter she’d read several times before. It seemed her mother had married her father without knowing he was an alcoholic. A lot of the letters were from her mother to her dad while he was in rehab. But her father’s problems weren’t the only ones her mother carried. She wrote about a horrible pain from childhood, but Cara hadn’t yet discovered what it was. Trevor’s father had been bad news, and Trevor came by his addiction honestly. Her parents were two hurting people who united in hopes of easing their pain. In some ways their relationship seemed to work…part of the time.
But reading these notes, letters, and journal entries was like catching the tail end of a conversation—confusing—and she wished she understood more. But right now she was tired of trying to sort out her parents’ past.
Ready to get out of Dry Lake, she tried to temper her restlessness. It’d been three days since she’d agreed to move to Ada’s house i
n Hope Crossing. Between Ada needing to square the rental agreement with the owners and Ephraim’s dad’s surgery, Cara was still stuck here. Ephraim hadn’t been around much since Sunday, and Lori constantly asked for him.
A slow cooing sound eased across the night air. Whatever bird made that noise, it was her favorite sound—soft and gentle as nightfall in the country. She placed the letters inside the box and slid into her jeans. From the foot of the bed, Better Days jumped up, wagging his tail. She picked him up and headed outside. It seemed the puppy would be fairly easy to housebreak, which would be important to Ephraim since the dog wouldn’t be under Lori’s watchful eye once they moved. After setting the dog on the grass, she studied the landscape.
The quiet beauty of Dry Lake contradicted her inner turmoil. She wondered if all Amish communities were this closed or if it simply seemed closed to her because of who her mother had been and who they thought Cara was. A whisper carrying her name floated through the night air, and she turned to see Ephraim in the entry of his hedged sanctuary.
She walked toward him. “How’s your dad?”
“Doing well. He’ll be released tomorrow. Actually, that’ll be today. What are you doing up?”
“I’ve been reading letters my mom wrote to my dad when he was in rehab.” She looked across the fields and to the pond. “I want out of here so badly, and yet there is something about this place. I can see why my mother missed it so much. Where did she live as a kid?”
“With Levina, but the rest of the family lived in the house next to Levi and Emma Riehl. Leroy Riehl and his wife live there now. Your grandmother died giving birth to your mother, and Levina, her grandmother, raised your mom. Fifty years ago we didn’t have a midwife in or near Dry Lake, and hospitals were a long way away. I heard your grandfather talking to some other men one time. He said your grandmother was a tiny woman and had a lot of difficulty with each birth, and she didn’t survive the night Malinda was born. Levina’s children were all grown, and she welcomed Malinda into her home. I’ve always heard there was bad blood between your mom and her dad—as if she resented him for giving her to someone else and never asking her to come home after she was no longer a baby. She didn’t move into her father’s home until Levina had some health issues and couldn’t take care of her. By that time your mother was sixteen or seventeen years old.”
“And my mom’s dad?”
“Your granddad died in the same car accident as my mother, and Mahlon’s dad, and Becca’s husband, and several others from the community. Three vanloads of Amish had hired drivers to take them to a wedding in Ohio. The driver of their van was going too fast and not paying attention to the road, and they slammed into a concrete highway divider.”
“Ephraim, I’m sorry.”
He stared at the night sky. “It was a huge loss, and I think it’s part of the reason the community is so defensive about outsiders. None of the adults in the community trusted the driver of the van that crashed, but everyone ignored their gut feeling and paid a really high price. Now they’re overly cautious about anything to do with outsiders.”
She could understand some of that. Breaking trust only took a moment, and regaining it could take a lifetime or more. “Maybe my mom felt abandoned by her dad and that had a lot to do with why she took up with an Englischer and left.”
“Maybe.”
Cara moved to the bench swing. “It all seems like such a lie.”
“All what?”
“How picturesque life can look. You get this quick view of something, and it looks appealing and wonderful—like the quaint appearance of being Amish. But it’s all a lie.”
He took a seat beside her. “Sunday evening you and Lori were near the huge trees by the pond as the sun was setting, and if someone had taken a snapshot of that, it’d warm the heart of every person who saw it. But the struggle for food, shelter, and safety is huge. That fight doesn’t discount the truth seen in that flash of time. Love is real, and it’s worth the battle. That’s not a lie, Cara.”
“Maybe you’re right.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m so tired of thinking about all of it.”
He reached into his pants pocket and pulled something out. Dangling a key in front of her, he smiled. “Maybe this will help. Paint and tools have been delivered. One bathroom is now in working order. The kitchen sink will be fixed tomorrow. A gas stove and refrigerator will be delivered early next week at the latest.”
She placed her palm under the key, and he dropped it. Clutching the key in her fist, she relaxed against the back of the swing. “You were right, you know.”
“Well, as my Daadi used to say—”
“Your who?”
“My grandfather.”
“Okay.”
“He used to say that even a blind squirrel finds a nut every once in a while.”
She laughed. “You’re weird, Ephraim. Who cracks jokes before sunup?”
He suppressed a smile, making slight lines around the edges of his mouth. “You were saying I was right about something?”
“I needed this transition, a place to live while coping with all I’ve learned. But what does my leaving mean for you?”
“That I get my bed back.”
She elbowed him. “How long before you’re not shunned anymore?”
“The bishop hasn’t put a set time on it.”
“But I’ll be gone.”
“It’s a discipline for past actions, similar to grounding a teen or taking away certain privileges. Only unlike getting in trouble with your parents, none of your friends thinks it’s cool.”
“You know what I think?”
“Do I want to know?”
She huffed and pointed at him. “I think if God were real, he’d make that bishop apologize.”
Ephraim started laughing and seemed unable to stop.
“What?”
“You’re only going to believe He’s real if He makes the bishop own up to something he’s not really wrong in?”
“Not wrong? We didn’t do anything close to going against that Bible of yours.” As soon as she said it, she lost her confidence. “Did we?”
“Well, ya, sort of. Godliness asks us to abstain from the appearance of evil, and you staying in my home overnight… well, you know. There’s nothing wrong in being held accountable, Cara.”
“It’s ridiculous. With all the bad in the world, you’re shunned because you did something that appeared wrong? Where’s the proof of your God’s love in that?”
“You love your daughter, but you can’t hold something in your hand as proof of that. Love is action on her behalf all the time. God’s love is action on our behalf all the time. But we’re in the middle of a battle. Part of life is ‘fighting the good fight’ to keep the faith. If there were no evil coming against us, we wouldn’t have to fight to keep the faith, right?”
A feeling of being offended jabbed needles at her, yet chills and confusion washed over her. “I like you. And I think you like me. So let’s do our friendship a favor and not discuss this God issue again, okay?”
He stood. “Do you believe in nature?”
“Well, of course.”
“Then come look at its glory through the telescope.”
When she shook her head, he held out his hand. “I’m not going to chance messing up our friendship by trying to convince you about God. That’s His job. I only want to show you some spectacular things in the sky.”
Cara placed her hand in his. They walked the few steps to his telescope.
She looked through the lens. “I don’t see anything but my own eyelashes.”
Ephraim made a few adjustments. “Here, try again. But don’t blink right before you place your eye against the eyeglass frame.”
Cara tried again. He stood right behind her, showing her how to adjust the finder scope and focuser. She wondered how many times he’d done this with Anna Mary. Had she felt like Cara did at this moment?
“Cara?”
She blinked. “Sorry. What�
��d you say?”
“Place your eye near the rim, and then adjust this until you can see.”
“Okay.”
She could barely think with him so close—the softness of his tone as he spoke, the warmth radiating from his skin, the gentleness in every move. But then she saw a view so breathtaking she couldn’t believe her eyes. A strip of stars hung in the sky on a backdrop of gold and silver dust. She’d always heard there were way more stars in the sky than were visible to the naked eye. Suddenly every problem she’d ever faced took on a different perspective—as if it were a fleck inside earth’s time line.
Deborah studied Mahlon as he guided the horse and buggy toward Hope Crossing. It’d take them the better part of an hour to get there, so he’d slipped away from the shop before closing, hoping they could ride there and back before dark. They both wanted to see the place Ada would move into this Saturday.
The only noise was that of the horse’s hoofbeats and the creaking of the buggy. Deborah felt that Mahlon had grown quieter with each day that had passed since Ephraim’s shunning, and he seemed to be sharing less and less with her. He hadn’t even noticed when she came out of her house with something behind her back or when she tucked a package under the seat of the carriage. Maybe he just needed to find something to laugh about. She certainly did, especially after going by Anna Mary’s last night and finding out she and Ephraim had broken up.
A night out together before the weekend arrived would probably do both her and Mahlon some good. It had to be upsetting him that his mother had made a decision about a house without his approval. Now that her father was home from the hospital, the hardest thing for her to accept was that Ephraim and Anna Mary were no longer seeing each other. The shunning would end in time, but Ephraim had never changed his mind once he stopped seeing a girl. She held on to the hope that he would this time.
Ada had told her a little about what took place at the meeting last Monday after the bishop dismissed most of them. She wouldn’t say too much about that, but she told Deborah all about the house in Hope Crossing and that Cara was moving in with her. Knowing all the odds Cara had beaten to find Dry Lake, Deborah couldn’t wish she hadn’t come, but she was glad that in two days she’d be moving away from her brother.
The Hope of Refuge Page 26
