The Hope of Refuge

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Car lights shone on the wall, but rather than moving around the room as they did when a vehicle passed the house, they stayed in one spot. Then they disappeared. She got up from the floor and moved to the window. Through the blackness of night, she saw a car parked on the shoulder of the road a hundred feet or so from the house. A light came on inside the car, and the door opened.

  Mahlon!

  She wanted to scream his name and run to see him, but neither her voice nor her body would obey her. He moved to the side of the car and leaned against it. Staring out at the field, he lit a match, and soon she saw smoke circle around him. A man got out of the drivers side and sat on the hood of the vehicle. They just stayed there, smoking and talking as if nothing mattered—not her pain or worry or anything.

  Another vehicle headed toward them. Mahlon glanced at it before tossing his cigarette to the ground. He walked to the cattle gate, opened it, and called for his horse. A truck with a trailer attached to it pulled up beside the car. While Mahlon harnessed his horse, his friend opened the tailgate of the trailer. After the horse was loaded, the driver of the truck held something out the window. Mahlon went to the man, took whatever it was, and stepped away before the man left.

  He stayed in the middle of the road, looking at the place where he’d grown up. As she stood there too bewildered to move, realization bore down on her like a merciless drought. She longed for a man she clearly didn’t know. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t put together the pieces of her childhood love and the lonely stranger she was now watching.

  He was safe. But her heart broke anyway.

  The man she’d willingly give herself to had no intentions of returning to her. Somehow she was seeing what he couldn’t tell her—as if she was meant to be here, meant to see the truth for herself When he got into the car, she ran down the steps, out the back door, and toward the road.

  As the car came toward her, she waved her arms. “Mahlon, wait!”

  Mahlon looked straight at her, but the car kept going.

  “Mahlon!” she screamed as loud as she could.

  The brake lights glowed bright red, and then small white lights shined as the car backed up. It stopped. When Mahlon opened the door, she saw Eric in his military uniform. Mahlon got out and closed the door, but Eric didn’t drive off.

  “Why?” She choked on her tears.

  He studied her as he’d done a thousand times before, but his face was a mixture of uncertainty and hardness. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” she yelled. “I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked for an explanation.”

  He shook his head and held out an envelope. “I was going to leave this in your mailbox. It’s for you and Mamm.”

  Wondering what could possibly end the twisting confusion inside her, she snatched it from him and looked inside.

  “Money?” She gasped. “You’re leaving me, and you’re going to fix it by giving me money?”

  He stepped toward her, his hands reaching for her shoulders, but she took a step back. “I can’t do this, Deb.”

  “Can’t do what?”

  He said nothing, but she saw a tear trail down his face.

  “You have someone else?”

  “Never, not in a million years. I swear that to you.”

  “Then why?”

  “I joined the faith, but not all of me did. Parts did, slivers too small to find most days. You were all that held me here, and finally I know that I can’t live like this.”

  His words were short, and she should understand them, but her mind couldn’t grab on to any of it. “I…I believed you. All this time I thought you really loved me. But you don’t, do you? Why? Why can’t you love me like I do you?”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Deb.”

  “You’re the one doing this! And what about your mother? You’re her only child. She gave up everything to raise you.”

  “That’s what parents do.”

  “You promised to always be here for her, and now you do this?”

  “She’ll be fine. She’s already proved that. And eventually you will too. But I never will—not if I stay.”

  Deborah’s legs shook, and she feared she might fall over. “This can’t be. It just can’t.”

  “Take the money. I’ll send more when I can.”

  She thrust the money toward him. “I don’t need anything from you, Mahlon Stoltzfus. Absolutely nothing ever again!”

  He closed his eyes, and fresh tears fell onto his cheeks. When he turned to get into the car, she threw the envelope at him, and money scattered everywhere. She left it there and hurried down the road, glad her home was in the opposite direction from the way his vehicle was headed.

  “Deb, I’m sorry!” Mahlon yelled, but she refused to turn back.

  Unable to see for the tears, she kept running until her legs and lungs were burning. She thought she might pass out, but she refused to stop.

  The sound of hoofbeats came from in front of her. Dizzy and confused, she couldn’t make out who got off the horse that stopped somewhere ahead of her. Then Ephraim filled her view.

  When he tried to reach for her, she shoved him away. “He was here, and he… he left.” She sobbed. “Why, Ephraim? He doesn’t love me. Why doesn’t he love me?”

  Her brother stepped forward. When he placed his arms around her, she was too weak to lash out. She melted into his arms and wept.

  Cara looked at herself in the mirror, wondering if wearing the Amish dress and apron was a matter of respect or hypocrisy. Although she hated the style, she loved the teal color. It seemed a shame to cover most of it with a black apron, but Ada thought she should wear both to Dry Lake today. The purpose of the apron was to hide a woman’s curves. Thing was, she had no problem showing her figure. She was petite but well built. It was part of who she was, so why hide it?

  People were so odd—not just the Amish, but people in general.

  Some men paid big chunks of their salary to see half-naked women or prostitutes, while others lived in celibacy, hoping God would bring them the right woman. Some women did anything for fun or money, while others denied all temptations to remain loyal to men they didn’t even like. Most people fell between those two points. Right now she’d like to know where she landed on that imaginary line. Had she become more of a teal-dress girl than a short-top, bare-belly one?

  If there was a God, was he ever confused by the choices people made? Or disappointed? It seemed to her that even among the most religious, there was error that caused division and hurt as much as any sin did.

  Ada came to the doorway. “You look nice.”

  “I feel like a bag lady.”

  Ada’s eyes reflected a deep sadness, but she smiled anyway. “Would you rather stand out for men and women who only want to please their eyes or for those who see beyond this life into the next?”

  Cara shrugged. “Jeans are comfortable.”

  “I’d guess men’s flannel pajamas and clown suits are comfortable too. When you’re willing to wear those in public day in and day out, I’ll believe your rationalization about those tight-fitting clothes you wear.”

  By an act of determination, Cara didn’t roll her eyes. “I’d rather live free and make my own choices than be told what to wear.”

  Ada stepped inside the room and motioned for Cara to turn around. She adjusted the apron ties. “We all submit to something. Athletes submit to the rules of their game. Lawyers and judges submit to the laws. The highest court in the land submits to the Constitution. Even the most rebellious person is submitting to something, usually the darkest part of their sin nature. The Amish choose to submit to the Ordnung in order to be strong against desires that want no boundaries. The preachers, deacons, and bishops help us keep those written and unwritten rules. If you don’t want to submit to that, you don’t have to, but don’t believe that you’re free.” Ada’s voice cracked, and when Cara turned to face her, she saw tears in her eyes. “No one is, Cara. And those who think they are just haven’t though
t about it long enough.”

  Cara constantly balked at Ada’s explanations about anything Amish. Maybe she’d gone too far. “Is something wrong?”

  Ada pulled an envelope out of the bib of her apron. “This had been pushed through the mail slot of the front door when I woke this morning.” Ada passed it to her, then went to the window and stared out.

  Cara read the writing scrawled on the front. Mamm, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m not coming back. I’m sorry. Take care of yourself, and help Deborah to forgive me. Love, Mahlon

  The words twisted inside her. At times the endless rules seemed enough to run anyone off And yet, for most, their way of life came with an undeniable strength against all that the world sought to steal—a person’s soul, family, and faith.

  She didn’t have to believe in God to know that her soul could be trampled on and that right and wrong existed. So why would someone like Mahlon give up the power of the good parts to get free of the weakness of the bad parts? It was a little like what Ada said about everyone submitting to something. Everyway of life had frustrations and error.

  Ada sat on the bed, looking hurt beyond description. “He sent a letter earlier this week that made me think this might be coming, but I kept praying it wouldn’t. I did my best raising Mahlon. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t put real effort into being a good Mamm and a positive influence.”

  Her words reminded Cara of something her own mother had written to her dad. She went to her dresser and flipped through the letters. When she found the right one, she took it to Ada and sat beside her. “Mama once wrote that the reason she gave her all to help my dad get free of his addiction was because she had to know she’d done her best, and then she could accept whatever came of it. But she writes it much better than I can say it.” Cara passed her the letter.

  “Denki.” Ada ran her fingers over the folded pages. “I can remember from our school days that Malinda had a special way of saying things.”

  Cara went to the dresser and gathered a large stack of letters. “Then read these as it suits you.”

  A horn tooted, which meant Robbie had arrived.

  Ada held on to the letters as if embracing a delicate teacup. “I can’t go visiting, not today.”

  “Those men in black—”

  “The church leaders aren’t men with guns from an Englischer film. They are servants of God who are doing their best, whatever may come of it.”

  For the first time Cara understood who the men were and why. “You’re right. I’m sorry. The church leaders told Ephraim that Mahlon might have left, and he’s concerned for his sister. He wants me to come to Dry Lake today and be a go-between for him and Deborah so they can sort of talk.”

  Ada nodded. “Go. I’ll keep Lori here.”

  “Better Days is still here. The backyard needs more work, but it’s safe enough for them to play in. Ephraim roped off two corners that have a lot of glass shards down in the grass. Tell her not to go inside those areas.”

  “I’ll take good care of her.” Ada wiped a stray tear. “I don’t think Deborah will ever want to see me, so it’s just as well I live so far from Dry Lake now. But will you tell her I’m sorry?”

  “I will.”

  The horn tooted again. Cara hurried down the steps and out the front door. The awkwardness between her and Robbie wasn’t as miserable as their first ride together, but returning to Dry Lake was difficult enough without trying to hold a conversation with him. After they shared a polite hello, she settled back in her seat, glad he was staying quiet.

  “The Masts are good people.” Robbie startled her when he spoke. “Abner, Ephraim’s dad, just doesn’t know who you are. One day you’re in jeans, stumbling around like you’re drunk, and the next you’re wearing a dress you stole off his clothesline. You lived in a barn his son asked you to leave, and then you moved into his son’s home. I think that’s enough to stretch anyone’s trust.”

  “You know too much.”

  “I shoot the breeze with Abner pretty regularly. Unlike Ephraim, he’s a talker. So, were you stealing from the Swareys and drunk the day he saw you on the road?”

  “Good grief.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I stole a pair of shoes and some stuff for Lori’s blisters. And I’d do it again if need be. But I wasn’t drunk.”

  He shrugged and said nothing for a few minutes. “I know that most of the Amish in Dry Lake are sorry for how they treated you. The rest don’t know what they think, not yet. So you just say very little and nod a lot when you’re around a group of them. Almost all of them know Englischers they like. The Amish are extremely careful who they let have an influence on their children. You seem to have a lot of influence on Abner’s child—a grown man, but still Abner’s child.”

  “You know, you actually make sense when you’re not being obnoxiously nosy.”

  Robbie laughed. “At first I didn’t trust you being in Ephraim’s life either.”

  “And now?”

  “He doesn’t care whether I like it or not. And I can’t stop you from being in his life. Since I can’t get rid of you, I’m trying to keep you from making things worse between him and his family.”

  “Denki.”

  Robbie smiled and held up a small plastic bag. “This is for you.”

  Cara took it and looked inside. He’d bought her a pack of cigarettes. “You know these things kill a person slowly. So if your goal is to get rid of me, that’s a poor plan.”

  He chuckled. “No. I had to stop to get gas on the way here, and I remembered you wanted a smoke last time we rode together.”

  She held the bag out to him. “That was thoughtful, and I’m impressed. But I’m fully detoxed, by no choice of my own, and I don’t intend to re-tox.”

  “Smart woman.” He pulled into the Masts’ long driveway. There had to be twenty people under the shade trees, and most of them were looking right at her as the car passed by.

  “What was Ephraim thinking?”

  “He wanted you to come?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s interesting. They’re here to support Deborah, but I don’t see her. She’s probably in no mood to be seen, but they want to make a statement to her by their presence.” He clicked his tongue in disgust. “I worked beside Mahlon for a lot of years, and I never saw this coming. Leaving is one thing. But to go after joining the faith and asking someone to marry you is just not done—and never like this.”

  “I need to keep my mouth shut and nod a lot, you say?”

  “Yep.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be more than a few minutes. I’m going to see if Deborah will come to the hiddy and talk to me. Will you wait?”

  He stopped the car. “Abner’s under one of the trees behind us. I’ll go talk to him for a bit.”

  “You’re welcome to come and go among the Amish as you please?”

  “It took a few years of being a good neighbor and a good employee to have this type of ease. But I’m still an outsider, so the rules of play are different. Mahlon could repent and return tomorrow, and it’d take him a decade to be truly welcome in many of the homes.”

  “And Ephraim?”

  “I don’t really know. It’s different with him. He crossed a line, to be sure. Now that they know who you are, some admire what he did. Others think the two of you probably, well, you know.”

  “Slept together.”

  “Yep. And they’re offended that he let you stay the night. After the shunning is over, it’ll take years to regain most people’s respect. He’ll never have everyone’s.”

  “You know, there are perks to not having a family or community.”

  “Yeah? Is it worth it?” He opened the car door.

  As soon as they got out, several men and women headed their way. She recognized Emma and Levi Riehl.

  “Cara.” Levi stepped forward. “You remember my wife, Emma.”

  Looking unsure of herself, Emma held out her hand. “Welcome.”

  Welcome? Who was the woma
n trying to kid?

  But she remembered Robbie’s advice, so she shook the woman’s hand and nodded without saying anything.

  “I have some people I’d like you to meet,” Levi said.

  The names flew at her as Levi introduced aunts, uncles, and cousins. She only nodded and smiled as each person shook her hand, either apologizing to her or welcoming her. Looking past the small crowd, she saw Ephraim leaning against the side of the house, a gentle smile revealing his thoughts. He’d paid the price for this day, and he continued to pay. Had he known this would happen when he asked her to come to Dry Lake today?

  To her left, Robbie stood talking to the man she’d seen in the pasture her first day in Dry Lake and who’d come to Ephraim’s the night she and Lori were dancing. He slowly walked toward her.

  Levi didn’t introduce them as he had with everyone else.

  “I’m Abner, Ephraim’s father. I…I was wrong to tell everyone to beware of you—that you were drunk or on drugs when I’d only caught a glimpse of you.”

  Cara swallowed, wishing a simple nod would do as an answer. “I’m sure I looked as odd to you that day as you did to me. Besides, soon after you called me a drunk, I called your son heartless.” She stole a glimpse of Ephraim. “It seems we were both wrong.”

  Abner held out his hand, but when she placed hers in his, he didn’t shake it; he patted it. “Denki.”

  “How’s Ada?” A woman’s voice came from somewhere above her.

  Abner looked to a spot at the side of the house, and Cara followed his gaze. Deborah stood at a second-story window, looking out.

  Cara stepped closer. “She said to tell you she’s sorry.”

  Without saying anything else, Deborah moved away from the window.

  Levi motioned to a chair.

  Cara took a seat. Women were whispering. Some were crying.

  “We don’t understand why he left.” Emma sat in a chair beside her. “It just doesn’t make sense.”