The Hope of Refuge

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Drawing a deep breath, she tried to relax. She touched Mahlon’s cheek, hoping to pull him from his thoughts too. “Where are you?”

  “Thinking about all the changes happening in Dry Lake. It’s like everyone’s suddenly chosen to follow their own heart.”

  “Everyone’s trying to do what’s best. Even your mother.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So what’s bothering you the most?”

  “I stayed because I didn’t feel she could make it on her own. And now…”

  “Stayed?”

  He said nothing.

  “As in stayed in her house or stayed Amish?”

  He shook his head and sighed. “Stayed with her.”

  “It didn’t hurt anything for you to live at home these extra few years, did it?”

  “No.” He shrugged. “Do you ever wonder if after all this Ephraim will stay Amish?”

  “Too often and too much. I think that’s the main reason I’m not more upset that your mother has decided to move to Hope Crossing. She’s getting Cara out of his place and out of his sight. I’m really sorry Ada’s moving so far away from our community, but maybe he and Anna Mary can work things out once Cara’s gone.”

  “I had no idea Mamm had that kind of independence in her. I only wish I’d known it years ago.” He lightly slapped the reins against the horse’s back.

  “Well, you’re free now. And you can find a place just for us. I’m so excited, but I’m nervous about all of it. Can you find us a place in ten days?”

  “Just trust me. I’ll handle it.” Mahlon looked at the directions in his hand and brought the buggy to a stop in front of an old house.

  “This is it?” Deborah asked.

  He looked at the address on the paper in his hand and then to the mailbox. “Ya.”

  They sat in silence, staring at the place. It looked like a haunted mansion. The absolute worst home in Hope Crossing. Mahlon pulled around back and into the driveway.

  Deborah scanned the surrounding area. The place sat on a corner lot, with a cornfield to one side of it and houses nearby but not too close. “It has a nice little barn, pasture for her horse, and a huge backyard.”

  “Ya, and a backyard so full of junk and fallen limbs she can’t use it for anything.”

  “That can be changed with a bit of work.”

  They both got out, and Deborah held his hand as they followed the sidewalk around the side of the home, up the front walk, and onto the wraparound porch.

  The gray paint on the six-foot-wide porch needed stripping and redoing. The white clapboard sides held so little paint it wouldn’t require much cleaning, just fresh coats.

  “No wonder your mother could afford this place.”

  “She says she gets money taken off the rent for every bit of work done to the place.”

  “I guess with Cara here to paint, your mother will be living free of charge for awhile.”

  “One would think.”

  Deborah slid the key into the lock and turned it. “I love the door. The old-fashioned mail slot, beveled glass, and tarnished brass knobs. They’re perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?”

  “For fulfilling your mother’s dreams. The old place looks full of potential.”

  They crossed the black-lacquer floors. Wallpaper peeled from the ceiling, musty boxes of junk sat everywhere, and newspapers were strewn all about. They walked into the kitchen.

  Deborah studied the room. “It’s certainly big enough for her to do her baking.”

  Mahlon looked down the sink. “This place is just a hull; even the pipes are missing.”

  “Ada said the plumber will return tomorrow, and the owners are covering the cost of that.”

  They walked through the rest of the house.

  Mahlon shook his head. “I can’t believe she wants this. It needs so much work.”

  “Don’t all dreams need lots of work?”

  He gave a half shrug. “Most dreams need to be ignored.”

  An uneasy feeling came over her. “Ignored?”

  “Forget it.” He motioned toward the front door. “I’ve seen enough. You ready to go?”

  “I love this place, Mahlon. Can’t you see that it’s something she’s always longed for? You wanted to stay in Dry Lake while growing up, and she did so. But now she’s ready to try some things on her own.”

  “Great. She’s making her dreams come true while I’m stuck doing Ephraim’s job.”

  “Mahlon.” Deborah stopped. “Are you angry with your mother over this?”

  He shook his head. “I’m just tired of it all. Aren’t you?”

  “Tired of what?”

  He closed the front door behind her. “I wanted to take one week to get away, and Ephraim needs me, and Mamm goes out and gets a rundown place, and…I…”

  “You what?”

  After locking the door, he shoved the key into his pocket. “Never mind.”

  “Never mind? It’s like you’re trying to tell me something without having to actually say it.” As they walked down the porch steps, Deborah tugged on his hands. “I don’t want to get into an argument just because you’re in a foul mood, but if you keep dropping hints and saying they don’t mean—”

  “Okay” he interrupted and then slid his arms around her. “You’re right.” He kissed her forehead. “I just need a few days away, but I shouldn’t take that out on you.” He kissed her again. “Sorry, Deb.”

  She climbed into the buggy, hoping her present would help him feel better. She pulled it out from under the seat. “I special-ordered a gift for you from the dry goods store. It came in today.”

  He smiled. “And how did you manage to hide it from me?”

  “You’re not with me all the time. I’ve barely seen you the last few weeks.”

  He lifted it from her hands. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

  “You’re going to provide me a home soon. I think I can buy you one thing to go in it.”

  He tore the paper, saying nothing as the clock came into view. It was the most gorgeous clock she’d ever seen and exactly like the one he’d pointed out to her a year ago, saying he hoped to own one like it someday.

  “It plays music on the hour.”

  “It’s beautiful, Deb,” he whispered as he removed the cardboard from around it.

  “Flip that button, and we can hear every tune. There are twelve of them.”

  He notched the button to On. The tinny music seemed to grab him, and he didn’t move. “That tune…”

  “I don’t know it, do you?”

  He nodded. “It’s everywhere I go lately. Every store. Every client’s home. In my sleep.”

  “What do the words to the song say?”

  “It’s based on a scripture: to everything, there is a season. Only the song says ‘turn, turn, turn a lot.”

  “It’s a good tune, ya?”

  He shrugged. “Except sometimes it feels like God is trying to tell me something. How do we get it to play another tune?”

  “Press that little gadget.”

  He did. The same tune started over again.

  “That’s odd.” She pushed the button again. “The clock was working when I wrapped it.”

  The same tune played every time she pressed the button. Chills ran up Deborah’s arms and down her back.

  Mahlon passed her the clock. “Let’s just turn it off for now, okay?”

  “Sure.” She flipped the knob to Off, but the music didn’t stop.

  He retried the same switch, but the song played faster. “Try removing the batteries.”

  She turned the clock over, removed the plate for the batteries, and paused. “What happens if it keeps playing?” Forcing a smile, she couldn’t ignore that her heart was thumping wildly. When she removed a battery the music stopped.

  “We just won’t turn the musical part on, okay?”

  “But that is the special part. We can pick songs to mean certain things over the years, and then no matter where we ar
e in the house, when we hear it, we’ll remember our love.”

  Mahlon’s hands trembled as he removed his hat. “Wherever I go, whatever I do in life, I’ll never forget your love. Ever.”

  The oddest sensation ran through her.

  He took her hand into his and kissed her fingers. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” He stared into her eyes as if trying to tell her things he couldn’t find the words for. “Let’s go on home. I have work tomorrow, and you need rest so you can help Mamm pack.”

  Feeling more anxious than ever, she jolted when Mahlon put his arm around her.

  “I think I’ll take a few days off. Will you be okay if I do that?”

  “But the shop needs you. It’ll get even further behind. And you’ve got to find a place and get moved.”

  He rubbed her back. “I have relatives in Dry Lake I can live with for a week or two.”

  “You always hated that idea before.”

  “Things have changed. And the shop’s going to be behind no matter what I do. I can’t go from being the provider for Mamm to doing so for your Daed and all his children. That responsibility shouldn’t have been laid in my lap.”

  “But that’s how things work with family. You know that. What about your mother? Have you told her?”

  “No. I’ll write to her and explain. She’ll be so busy settling into that place, having work done, and building this dream business of hers, she won’t even think twice about it.”

  “Where will you go?”

  He shrugged. “Somewhere quiet where no one knows who I am.” He pulled her closer and kissed her head. “Your Daed is mending, and you’ll be busy helping Mamm and Becca. You won’t even have time to miss me.”

  “Well, I’ve been missing you for awhile now. And I’d love to see you return with…you. Okay?”

  “You are the most amazing girl any guy could have.”

  “Now see, that’s the man I agreed to marry. So when will you leave?”

  “Saturday.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “Wednesday, probably. That next weekend we’ll finish packing up my belongings that are still at the house.”

  “Okay. But someday, when you’re ready, let’s talk. I want to know what you’ve been thinking about.”

  “When I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

  She chuckled. “Fair enough.”

  Ephraim bowed his head in silence, trying to block out thoughts of Cara during the meal prayer.

  When he opened his eyes, Lori smiled at him. “I got done praying first.”

  Ephraim chuckled. “I don’t think that’s the point.”

  At a table several feet away, Ada took a piece of fresh-baked bread and passed the basket to Cara. She rose from her table, walked over to his, and set the container near him.

  Ephraim took a roll. “Denki.”

  “Gan gern?” Cara asked.

  He laughed. “Gern gschehne.”

  “Yeah, Mom, gern gschehne.” Cara made a funny face at her daughter and returned to the other table. Lori giggled.

  He studied Ada for a moment. Something weighed on her, something written in that letter he’d seen her read a hundred times. He didn’t know who it was from, but she kept it tucked inside her apron, and he’d seen her shed a few tears when she thought no one was looking.

  From the moment Ada had left his home after spending the night helping Cara nearly two weeks ago, she hadn’t been allowed to talk to him. Between her writing to him and them sharing a conversation with each other through Cara, they talked fairly easily. He understood why the bishop had added unusual restrictions to his shunning, but the hardest part was a normal restriction—not being allowed to sit at a table with her. Cara came up with a plan that made the rules easier to live with. She and Lori took turns sitting at either his or Ada’s table during mealtimes.

  Ada’s place in Hope Crossing was an hour from Dry Lake by horse and buggy, because the rigs couldn’t use the highway but it was only ten to fifteen minutes by car. So Robbie drove him here each morning and picked him up around ten or eleven each night.

  In between those hours he and Cara worked to restore the home, then talked and kidded until the exhausting efforts felt like a game. Every morning they sat on the steps of the front porch and drank coffee. Each evening when it was too dark to work by kerosene or gas lamps and Lori was asleep, Ada stayed here, and he and Cara went for a long stroll. It’s what he’d longed for when they finished painting the Garretts’ place—more time with Cara.

  He watched her as she ate, enjoying how quickly she’d begun to heal. The shock and grief of learning about her roots had quieted, but her heart hadn’t changed toward her family. Several had written letters to her, but she’d not opened even one of them. She’d accepted their past indifference, not forgiven it.

  When she caught him staring at her, she frowned. “You got a problem, mister?”

  He had one all right. And he was looking straight at it. Everything about her fascinated him. The way she ate bread by tearing off a small piece at a time. The way she tried to tuck her hair behind her ear now that it was growing a bit, but it was still too short to stay. The way she whispered in early mornings and spoke deep and soft in late evenings. And the thousand other movements she made throughout a day. All of it had captured his thoughts.

  When he didn’t answer her, she stuck out her tongue and made a face. He didn’t allow the smile he felt to show on his face. Even though he wasn’t sure what he wanted from life anymore, he kept that confusion to himself. The shunning hadn’t convinced him of the things the church leaders had hoped.

  Without going to any Amish person’s place, he and Lori had found homes for every puppy. After he paid to have the mama dog fixed, they even found a great family for her.

  Even though living without modern conveniences seemed silly to Cara, she was clearly interested in trying to understand the whys of their religion. Each day she asked questions about living Amish. And despite her arguing against those ways, she grew to understand their culture a little more. Her insights were remarkable, but it was head knowledge to her. She seemed to accept none of it as a reasonable way of life.

  Still, he was convinced she needed to see the good parts of the Amish way of life before she’d find peace and acceptance of her heritage. So he guarded his words and never spoke of his frustration with being shunned. According to the restrictions of the shunning, he probably shouldn’t be doing anything that helped Ada build her new business, but it seemed to him he could get away with doing things that helped Cara, who happened to share the same home.

  He was four weeks into a shunning that the bishop hadn’t set an ending date to. It might last five more months or longer. Ada’s dilapidated place seemed like the perfect solution to his problem of having too much time on his hands. It wasn’t the painful situation the bishop had intended—not for him or Cara—and Ephraim figured he’d get a visit from the church leaders when they realized it.

  “Hey, ’From.” Lori took a drink of milk and set the glass on the table. “Does Better Days miss me when you take him home at night?”

  “Ya, he does. Just last night he was telling me all about it while I was trying to sleep.”

  “Can he stay here tonight?”

  “Lori—”

  “Actually,” Ephraim interrupted Cara, hoping to stop her from issuing a firm no, “I’ve been wanting to talk to your mom about that.”

  “Really?” Lori’s eyes grew big.

  “Yeah, ‘From, really?” Cara raised an eyebrow. “Before or after you cause trouble for a busy single mom?”

  He knew that each day took a lot of strength. Between painting and helping Ada bake, she worked long hours, and as the summer temps climbed, the lack of air conditioning and fans seemed to wear on her more than it did on him and Ada.

  “I have a plan.”

  “One that works? Or one where we work, but it doesn’t?” Cara teased.

  His eyes defied
his will and stayed focused on her as he soaked in who they’d become since meeting. Love was weird—and he no longer doubted that he loved her. No matter how much he gave or helped, he wanted to do more. He didn’t know how she felt about him other than seeing him as a good friend whose company she enjoyed. But he did know she was happier now that she was out of Dry Lake, had a stable place to live, and had lots of work to do.

  “What’s the plan?” Lori asked around a mouthful of fresh-baked wheat bread.

  I wish I knew.

  He cleared his throat and looked to Lori. “I’m going to clean up the backyard so an adult doesn’t have to put a leash on Better Days and take him to a side yard every time he needs to go out.”

  Lori looked pleased as she took another bite of her sandwich. Cara’s face was not readable.

  Yesterday afternoon when she corrected Lori for nearly knocking over a can of paint, he heard it in Cara’s voice: she needed a safe place for her daughter to play outside.

  With town shops close by and traffic as busy as it was, Cara didn’t let Lori go outdoors alone. Part of the reason was because Better Days had to be kept on a leash, and if he pulled free of Lori’s hand, she’d take off after him. But when Cara wouldn’t trust Lori to play on the wraparound porch, it dawned on him that her caution was magnified because her mother had died from being struck by a car. That’s when he decided to stop his repair work on the inside of the house and clean up the junkyard out back.

  “Can I help?” Lori asked.

  “Maybe later, after I’ve shoveled the broken glass into trash bags and mended the fence so little girls and puppies can’t walk right through it, okay?”

  “Okay. Me and Better Days will be in my room playing when you’re ready.”

  Cara rose and began stacking plates. “She thinks you’ll get that done before supper.”

  He scuffed Lori’s hair. “I will, just not before today’s supper.”

  He stood. “Guess I better get started.”

  Ephraim put on work gloves and began loading lawn bags with broken bottles and trash. The mid-June heat bore down as he lifted a half-rotted log and carried it to the wagon. He’d picked up all the large pieces of glass he could, but he knew there were hidden shards. The worst of it was in two corners that’d been used as trash piles. He wasn’t yet sure what he could do about that.