While lifting another oversize log, he saw two men in a horse and buggy coming toward him. When the rig stopped near the carriage house, he recognized them. Two church leaders, the bishop and a preacher. He’d known this speech was coming, was surprised it’d taken a full week for them to make this visit. What he didn’t know was if his father realized how much time he was spending here. Normally, as a preacher, his Daed would be with the other two church leaders during this type of visit. But the bishop’s wisdom probably caused him to shield his Daed from the news.
Hoping to keep Cara or Lori from hearing what Sol and Alvin would have to say, he weaved around the trash and junk until only a wire fence separated them at the back part of the yard.
“Ephraim.” Sol shook his hand, effectively reminding Ephraim that brotherly fellowship was heartily waiting for him as soon as he took the right steps to bring an end to the shunning.
Alvin moved to stand next to the bishop. “We regret the need for this visit and that we had to travel so far in order to connect with one of our own.”
Robbie took him home each night, but that wouldn’t count for much.
The bishop studied him. “Because of the vows you’ve taken, this is like flirting with betrayal. You’ve promised to marry within our sect, and Cara is not a part of us.”
“She might be if everything had been handled right.”
“If she’d come to us at the age of eight, she might have joined the faith. Big difference. And is that why you’re spending so much time here, to set right a wrong? I think not. You are here because you let desire take root, and now it controls you.”
Alvin opened the gate and came inside the messy yard. He placed his hand on Ephraim’s shoulder. “You can’t get free of the ban living like this, and you have a duty to your family.”
“If that’s your argument, it’s a weak one. I’ve fulfilled more than my share of family obligations. I’ve worked for eight years to provide for my father’s family.”
The bishop came inside the fence too. “We’ve tried to give you a bit of flexibility, thinking you’d help Ada and then return to safer ground for your soul. But you haven’t. One is not Amish because their parents are or once were Amish. Cara’s an Englischer. Will you forsake God, family, and your business to follow this… this lustful path?”
“My being here has nothing to do with lust.” It had plenty to do with desire, but Ephraim knew himself well enough to recognize when lust tempted him.
The bishop placed a hand on his shoulder. “Anything that pulls you away from your walk with God, from the principles you believe in, or believed in before, is lust. If this was happening to someone else in our community, you’d be able to see it for what it is. Trust us, Ephraim. And come away.” He spoke softly. “Let us do our job in correcting you. Please, for the love of all God has done for you, don’t turn your back on Him.”
“I haven’t turned my back on God.”
“No, you haven’t,” the bishop said. “But one who’s been raised as you have doesn’t turn his back on God overnight. It will happen slowly, until one day you realize you’ve lost all faith and you don’t know when or how it happened. But I can tell you this: it began the day you took that woman into your home unsupervised. And it will continue as long as you come to Hope Crossing each day to work beside her.”
“She needs someone to tell her of our faith, to show her all the good parts of being Amish. Her mother wanted her raised with us. That opportunity was stolen from her. She’s been asking questions about our ways. Will you prevent me from sharing that with her?”
“Most Englischers will ask questions about our beliefs, given a chance. It doesn’t mean they’re remotely interested in doing what it takes to live as we do. And what happens if, after all her questions are answered, she’s uninterested in living Old Order? What then?”
Ephraim stared at the lush green hill, wishing he had answers. Cara had a few favorite spots she liked to walk to in the evenings. He was looking at one of them. They’d go through the pasture behind Ada’s house, across the footbridge, and up that steep hill to a dilapidated barn and outbuildings. He had no idea why she found the half-ruined structures so interesting, but that’s where they walked. They’d sit on a fallen tree or jutted rock or sometimes a blanket and watch the night sky. He could talk to Cara there, tell her about parts of himself that were hidden from everyone else. She shared things with him, and that only served to make him want her more. The only secret he kept from her was that he was no longer seeing Anna Mary. Surely, if she thought about it, she’d know that. But telling her would shift the relationship and add to all the confusion going on inside her.
“Ephraim,” the bishop called to him, “what if she’s uninterested in becoming Amish?”
“I don’t know.”
The bishop stared at him, looking deeply concerned. “Will you leave the faith? Will you make the same mistake Malinda Riehl made? You’ve lived a solid Old Order Amish life since your father needed you nine years ago. You did that out of love, but love is not always enough to accomplish what we want it to.”
Ephraim held the man’s gaze, unashamed of what was happening within him. His heart belonged to Cara. At thirty-two he’d finally experienced the connection he’d always longed for. “And there are times when it is.”
The bishop drew a deep breath. “Ephraim, listen to me. Even if she chooses to join the faith and goes through all the right steps, if her decision isn’t based on the right reasons, she is likely to leave after some time.”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“You care for her. That’s clear. Does she return those feelings?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“If she gets so caught up in her feelings that she goes through all the steps to marry you, then she might only stay because she’s married. But if you back off, she’ll have a chance to choose for herself, not based on a life with you, but based on our faith.”
Ephraim shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed at the sky. “You may be right about that.”
“Ya.” The bishop smiled. “I am right. I learned much of my wisdom from you over the years before you became all verhuddek.”
Was the bishop right? Had he become confused?
Alvin shifted. “We don’t want to lose you or add any more punishment. But as much as it grieves us to say it, this is your final warning. You have until Monday to decide. You must keep away from Cara at all times until we see progress in her. If she makes a decision to accept our ways and become Amish, that will change everything.”
The bishop removed his hat, looking peaceful and confident. “You can’t be the one to help her, not without jeopardizing your own soul. Let Ada do as she has permission to. Cara is out of your home now. If you’ll return as we ask, I’ll repeal the extreme restrictions of your shunning within a week. If you’ll show some willingness to follow our wisdom, it won’t be long before I’ll end the shunning altogether. Then you will be a member in good standing before you know it.”
Each man placed a hand on Ephraim’s shoulder and bowed for silent prayer. “Be wise, Ephraim. There is much more than just your soul at stake. Many within the younger generations of Dry Lake are now questioning the ways of our people.”
Feeling the weight of responsibility smothering him, he looked to Ada’s house. Inside was a woman who possessed more of him than he did.
“Did you know Mahlon has been gone all week?” the bishop asked.
“What? He said he’d wait until I returned to work before he took time off.”
“He left last Saturday and told Deborah he’d probably be back by Wednesday. Today is Saturday again, and she’s not heard a word from him. She doesn’t even know where he went. He’s supposed to be out of his place by tomorrow at midnight, and from what we can tell, he made no plans for where to live.”
The news quaked through him. His sister’s heart would break if Mahlon didn’t return. Was the letter Ada had been reading over and over ag
ain from Mahlon? He could think of a few reasons she wouldn’t say anything yet and felt fairly confident she’d only speak up if she was positive what her son was up to.
“Can I talk to my sister?”
The bishop shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve made enough exceptions already. I let you talk to your Daed when he was in the hospital and to Ada several times when Cara found out she had relatives in Dry Lake.”
Ephraim looked to the clear blue sky with its streaks of white clouds and golden sun, knowing that right where he looked there were the stars he couldn’t see—not until darkness fell. “What you’d really like to tell me is that if I keep seeing Cara, I’ll live under the weight of my choice for the rest of my life.” He took a step back and began putting on a work glove. “Well, that’s a price I just might be willing to pay.”
Cara blew out the flame to the kerosene lamp on the kitchen table, gathered several letters that her mother had written, and walked to the back door of Ada’s home. Ephraim moved through the darkness, repairing the gaps in the fence as if fixing it tomorrow would be too late. She’d seen two men in black suits arrive in a buggy and talk with him hours ago. He hadn’t come inside since—not even for supper. She’d left him alone, knowing there were times when work did for a man what talking did for a woman.
Robbie had arrived an hour ago, spoken to Ephraim, and then left by himself. Whatever was going on, she’d bet the roof over her head that her presence was still making his life harder. She stepped onto the small back porch. Ephraim stopped cold and watched as she walked to him.
“I knew they’d come for you—those men in black. And yet you’re still here.”
“Faith in God is required. Remaining Amish is not.”
She wanted to ask if he meant that he was willing to leave the Amish faith. If he said yes, part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms. But with the weight of her mother’s past resting inside the letters she carried, she steadied her emotions. “Faith.” She made a small gesture toward the sky. “I have faith that night will come and day will follow, again and again.” She looked back at the house. “I have faith that either a need will be met or I’ll have the strength to survive if it’s not. Of late, I even have faith in you. But, Ephraim, I have no faith in your God, and I never will.”
His eyes moved over her face, but he said nothing.
She held out the letters. “In my mothers own handwriting, in letters meant for me when I came of age, she confesses that she was never the same after leaving Dry Lake. She latched on to a different life for all the wrong reasons—out of hurt, betrayal, even out of my dad’s need of her. So she stayed and married him. When she realized who she truly was and what she’d given up to marry him, her loyalty would not let her leave.”
She stared at the letters. “Go home, Ephraim. Live as you need to, repair whatever damage has taken place. You’ve seen Lori and me safely through the storm, and we’re fine now. My guess is you and Anna Mary are not so fine.” She slid the letters into her back pocket. “She loves you, Ephraim. Don’t throw that away because of a few crazy weeks with an outsider. I’m sure she’s not happy that you spend so much time here with me. But given a chance, she’ll forgive you. Go, make the right choice—not just for you, but for your children and grandchildren and all generations to come.”
Crickets chirped, and the beauty of night seemed to move around them, but he said nothing. After long minutes of silence, he motioned for them to walk. They went through the back gate, across the wooden footbridge, and up to the top of the hill.
The darkened landscape surrounded them—the silhouette of rolling hills, trees, and valleys. A few stars shone through the hazy summer sky. They moved to the fallen tree and sat.
“Mahlon took a few days off starting last Saturday and hasn’t returned.” He pointed to the edge of the wood nearby, and she spotted three deer slowly entering the open field. “Since he was a teen, I’ve known he has a deep restlessness inside him—the kind that makes a man either leave or always wish he had.”
“What will the community do?”
He sighed. “Grieve. And wait to hear from him.”
“You need to be there for Deborah.”
“I can’t even talk to her.” He rose. “It’s all so frustrating. My sister’s probably sick over Mahlon’s absence. If any woman around is worth coming back for, it’s her.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He removed his hat and ran his hands through his hair. “It’s possible. I don’t know if it’ll work, but maybe Deborah could talk to you while I’m nearby.”
“And you could talk to her through me, like we do with Ada.”
“I need to see if she’s okay. And I know she’ll draw strength from you.”
“From me?” Cara scoffed.
He smiled and put his hat on. “Yes, you. If anyone knows how to take what a man has dished out and become stronger, you do.”
“You’re strange, you know that? Who else would see a homeless woman with a child and call that strong?”
“Possessions don’t make a person strong—decisions do. Although I never thought about that before knowing you. While you were in the midst of the battle, you decided what you were and were not willing to give up, and you never let go. Deborah needs to see that.”
“I don’t think she’ll see what you see in me, but I’ll go. When?”
“Ada’s hired Robbie to come by around eleven in the morning and take her to Dry Lake for a Sunday visit since there’s no service. You could ride with her. Go to my Daed’s house and ask to talk to Deborah in the hiddy. I’ll meet you there.”
“It won’t cause you problems for me to be there again?”
He shook his head. “It shouldn’t, but I don’t care if it does.”
It seemed Ephraim had changed inwardly even more than her life had outwardly. He wasn’t the same man who’d asked her to get off his property the first time he saw her, or the one who’d paid for two bus tickets to New York, or the one who’d tried to hide her from everyone he knew. But like he always said, the things that separated them would always stand firm. That’s why she had no choice but to send him home to Anna Mary.
She cleared her throat, wishing she could undo the damage she’d caused him. “Does Ada know about Mahlon?”
“She hasn’t said so, but I think she does.”
“I got the mail from the box a few days ago. I think he’d written to her, but I don’t know what the letter said. It didn’t seem to be good news, though. Why wouldn’t she tell anyone about it?”
“Whatever he wrote, I’m sure she doesn’t want to alarm anyone.”
“I came here and totally disrupted your life. You chose to ignore the Amish rules and are being shunned. Mahlon’s mother decided to move out of Dry Lake and take me with her. Is it possible Mahlon’s absence has something to do with me?”
“No. Although I see why it could look that way. Mahlon’s been odd since the day we lost so many members in the car wreck, his Daed among them. He got worse after being in New York the day the Twin Towers fell. Deborah says he felt the earth shake, saw the smoke rise, and heard the screams of those trapped inside. His mother had been in the towers the day before. The experience did something to him.”
“That would affect anyone.”
“Deborah has loved him since she was a child.” He sighed. “I have no idea what this might do to her.”
Cara stood. “You need to go home tonight, ‘From, and start acting like the Amish man you are.”
He stayed on the log, looking up at her. “Ya. I know.”
When he rose, mere inches separated them. Regardless of the Amish stance against electrical energy, it ran unrestricted between them.
Afraid to keep lingering, she turned away and started walking. But she wasn’t ready to go back to Ada’s. Tonight was all they had, and so they’d walk.
Ephraim stayed beside her, saying nothing for a long time. Finally he cleared his throat. “Since I didn’t le
ave with Robbie, I’ll use Ada’s horse to get back to Dry Lake. I’ll put the mare in the pasture, and tomorrow Israel Kauffman or Grey or someone will recognize her, realize I borrowed her, and see to it she’s returned to Ada by tomorrow night.” She appreciated his effort to make small talk. “How can you know all that?”
“Too many years of experience among my people.” His half smile looked more sad than happy but she knew he was right—the Amish were his people.
Deborah sat on the floor of Mahlon’s bedroom, too weary to cry anymore. She held his shirt to her face, breathing in his aroma. Except for the occasional headlights of passing cars, darkness surrounded her. She kept telling herself to light a kerosene lamp or walk back home, but she continued to sit here hour after hour, trying to make sense of it all and figure out a way to fix it.
She longed to hear from him, to know he was safe. But if something hadn’t kept him, if he hadn’t been in an accident of some sort… if he’d chosen to leave like this… she wasn’t sure she wanted to know that. And yet, not to know the truth meant living in limbo every second of every day. She couldn’t stand that either. So she’d prayed until she was sick of it, but she kept praying anyway.
Israel Kauffman and Mahlon’s cousin Jonathan had come here with her long before dark. She’d emptied his dresser, footlocker, and night-stands. They’d dismantled his bed and moved all the heavy furniture. She’d asked them to go on home and let her pack his huge, messy closet on her own. They’d taken the grandfather clock with them, so she didn’t know what time it was. But it didn’t matter. It was somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow.
The closet was empty, and boxes were scattered throughout the room. Her prayers had changed shape and purpose since four days ago, when he should have come home and didn’t. But her feelings had not altered. She was scared, and more than that she felt like a fool. Who lets a loved one go off without knowing where or how to reach him? Who lets someone talk in jumbled circles without insisting he make sense?
The Hope of Refuge Page 28
