He’d love to be first in line to court her. Actually, he’d like to be the only one in line. But he wouldn’t pursue her.
When she first entered his home, she’d made it clear she didn’t want to owe him anything. He understood what had happened with Johnny—Cara marrying him for protection and a roof over her head without being in love with him. But even as he reminded himself of his stance, every part of him longed to see her, to tell her how he felt.
She wasn’t the same person she would have been if she’d been raised Old Order. Innocence and trust had been stripped from her, one bad experience after another. Still, he found even her less-than-trusting attitude fascinating. She beckoned him so much it scared him.
He drew a deep breath and set the tools in their place. Maybe he should go to Deborah’s gathering and at least get a few minutes with Cara. She should know he wasn’t seeing Anna Mary anymore, shouldn’t she?
Was that too self-serving?
Still unsure what he should or shouldn’t say to her, he went into his office and dialed Robbie. No sense in taking an hour to get to Hope Crossing when Robbie could have him there in ten minutes.
In her caped dress, black apron, and bare feet, Cara spoke to Deborah’s visitors before she walked past them and to the front porch. They seemed like a nice group, even Anna Mary, who was clearly uncomfortable around Cara—not that she blamed her. A lot had taken place between Cara and Ephraim, and whether he’d told Anna Mary about it or not, she had to sense it.
The sun danced through the leaves as the late-afternoon shadows of September fell across the yard. It didn’t matter how hard she tried not to, she missed Ephraim just as much now as when the church leaders came here to reason with him and he returned to Dry Lake in mid-June.
She’d talked to him briefly and only a couple of times since the night she was caught in that rainstorm. Had anything ever felt as powerful and right as being in his arms while they watched the rain? But if he came tonight, he’d spend his time with Anna Mary.
Regardless of Ephraim or anything or anyone else, Cara was close to joining the faith. A few things nagged at her. She’d talked to Deborah and Ada about putting down roots of her own in Hope Crossing after she finished working on the house. Ada said that’d be quite a while, but then she said if Cara wanted to stay near them and yet live as an Englischer, the storage rooms above the carriage house could be refinished for her, and electricity and a phone could be added.
They were of the same mind-set as Ephraim—joining the Amish faith wasn’t necessary to being a part of their lives. She leaned back against a porch column and closed her eyes. With each passing week more of her wanted to join the faith. It had aspects she wouldn’t find easy—like never cutting her hair, wearing black stockings even in summer, answering to a church leader as her authority, and trying to understand the language. But she’d grown accustomed to most of their ways.
A man cleared his throat, and she jolted. Two men in black suits stood in front of her. Since the hitching posts and space for the carriages were around back, she hadn’t expected anyone to come in or out the front door. She recognized one of them and realized she should greet them more properly, so she jumped to her feet.
The familiar man held out his hand. “My name’s Sol Fisher. I’m Ephraim’s bishop.”
She wondered how odd she must look to them with short hair and no Kapp but in an Amish dress. She shook his hand. “I’m Cara Moore. Malinda Riehl’s daughter.”
“Yes, we know.” He gestured to the man next to him. “This is Jacob King. He’s a deacon in Hope Crossing.”
She shook his hand too. “Ada’s inside, as well as Deborah. Others too. Did you want me to call one of them?”
“We’ll visit with them in a bit. First we’d like to talk to you.” Sol ran his hand down his gray beard. “Ephraim was wrong to have you in his home unsupervised. Do you understand that?”
More than ever. She nodded.
The man drew a deep breath. “That’s a serious matter. But I ask you to forgive me for being so upset with him that I didn’t see you—the one who needed our help. I didn’t look beyond your outward appearance or the rumors. If he hadn’t reached out to you, none of us would have. I apologize for that.”
Remembering her words to Ephraim—that she’d believe there was a God if the bishop apologized—she had to suppress her amusement. “Thank you.”
Jacob stepped forward. “You need to say, ‘I forgive you.’ It’s the Amish way.”
Trying to say the words, she realized how humbling some of the Amish ways were. “I forgive you.”
He held out his hand again. “I stand before Him forgiven. Thank you.”
“Is it that easy?”
“No, but it’s the first step. I’ll wrestle with regret and you with feelings of resentment at times. But we’ve begun the journey by an act of our will and faith. If you need to talk about it more, my door will always be open to you.”
Jacob nodded. “A fine first step you’ve taken, Cara.”
Feeling awkward and out of place, she couldn’t think of anything to say.
“We’ve been keeping an eye on you since you moved in with Ada,” Jacob said. “You’ve come to a few services with her and Deborah.”
“Yes.”
“Since your mother was Amish and she wanted you raised in our faith,” Jacob continued, “we feel you should know that we have no reservations if you want to consider becoming one of us. I brought you a schedule and a map to each home where services will be held.”
Sol nodded. “It’s not easy to live as we do, and it should not be considered lightly, but we’re here to answer any of your questions.”
“Thank you.”
“And you’re welcome to visit and move about either community. Of course we will come see you if an issue of improper behavior arises.”
She had come to accept that rules were a part of every society and that if they accomplished a lofty goal, they were worth it. And it was clear that living Amish had more promise than it did restrictions.
A desire to see Ephraim swept over her. She wanted to tell him the bishop had apologized. Far, far more than that, she was tired of missing him. The men went inside, and Cara sat on the porch again, thinking everything through.
Lori would love joining the faith. It was all she ever talked about. She already wore Amish dresses to public school and didn’t care what the other kids thought. She’d never liked wearing pants, which used to frustrate Cara. Once Cara went through all she needed to in order to join, Lori could go to the one-room Amish schoolhouse not far from here. She’d love that too. But none of those things were why Cara wanted to join the faith.
It was an odd way to live, but she understood the value of it.
Robbie’s car pulled to the curb, and Ephraim got out.
The hardest thing in becoming Amish would be knowing it’d make no difference between her and Ephraim. But if Deborah could see her future without Mahlon, Cara could find away to see hers without Ephraim. Even so, she wanted to tell him about her decision to join the faith before she told anyone else, and she wanted to tell him about some of the Amish skills Deborah and Ada had been teaching her.
Anna Mary would just have to deal with her talking to Ephraim.
He ambled up the sidewalk, a half grin across his handsome face. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
He stopped at the foot of the steps. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”
“Wishing you were here to talk to. Got a minute?”
His gray blue eyes mesmerized her, and she tried to slow her heart.
He took a seat beside her. “I have all evening.”
“I don’t think Anna Mary will appreciate that sentiment.”
He propped his forearms on his knees. “Well, that’s sort of what I came to tell you. Anna Mary and I have stopped seeing each other.”
Her heart went crazy. “What? Why didn’t Deborah tell me?”
“Because I asked her not
to.”
“Why?”
“Reasons we should probably talk about in a few months, okay?”
“Yeah. I knew Anna Mary would be hurt and angry, but I didn’t think she’d dump you for being friendly to me.”
“She didn’t, and can we change the subject?”
“Not yet. When did you two break up?”
“Before you moved out of my place.”
“Three months ago?”
He nodded. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
She blinked, trying to gain control of her emotions. Could he read in her expression the hope she felt? “Oh yeah. Uh. The bishop came by. Not only did he welcome me to attend the church meetings and to consider joining the faith, he apologized.”
Ephraim chuckled. “So does this mean you believe in God now?”
She laughed. “Can we go for a walk?”
“Sure.”
“Give me a minute to check on Lori and make sure Ada will watch her for me. Last I checked, Lori was in the kitchen sitting in Deborah’s lap.” Cara hurried into the house, made arrangements with Ada, grabbed her sweater, and bounded out the door.
Without a word spoken she and Ephraim headed for their favorite spot. “If Anna Mary’s not the issue and I’m not taboo anymore, why are you staying away?”
Laughing, he tilted his head heavenward. Then he mocked a sigh. “Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind?”
Obviously one of us has to.”
“You know why. I don’t want to pressure or influence you in the choices that lie ahead.”
“That was good thinking, but I’ve already made my choices.”
Ephraim stepped in front of her and stopped. “Well?”
“Ah, so you left me hanging for months, thinking you still had a girlfriend, but you want my answer right now?”
“I’d have preferred an answer long before you even knew you needed to give one. And I’ve been unbelievably patient.”
“You word things in a way that’s very hard to argue with.”
“And yet it never stops you, does it?”
“Shut up, ’From. I’m trying to tell you something.” She pinned a lock of hair behind one ear. “I intend to join the faith.”
He didn’t smile or move or anything.
“The world has nothing to offer that could ever mean anything to me like being a part of a community that holds the same values.”
His eyes moved over her face. “How sure are you?”
“Completely.”
He studied her, and slowly a lopsided smile hinted at what she wanted to know—hope for who they might be was the reason he’d stopped seeing Anna Mary.
“I’ve missed you so much, Ephraim.”
He took her hands into his, looking oddly shy. “Everything is empty without you. I’d like to start coming here more, and maybe one day you’ll feel comfortable coming to Dry Lake.”
Cara finally had one untarnished moment of complete happiness. “Like dating?”
He nodded. “What’s the English word for when you’re not seeing but one person?”
“Exclusive.”
“Ya, that’s it.”
“Worried about me becoming interested in other Amish guys, are you, ‘From?”
He released one of her hands and brushed her cheek with his fingers. “Maybe a little.”
Cara washed the supper dishes while Lori dried them and passed each item to Deborah to put away. Ada stood inside the walk-in pantry, going over the list of tomorrow’s baked goods and matching that against the ingredients.
The bishop had come to see her last night, and she was bursting with news to tell Ephraim. It’d only been three weeks since the bishop had visited on Labor Day, and yet he’d been back to tell her good things.
Deborah placed a dish in the cabinet. “I miss Ephraim being here tonight. He hasn’t skipped a day of coming since Labor Day.”
“I know. All of us going to the top of the mountain and stargazing every night has been so great I feel spoiled.” Cara barely wiped her wet hand against her black apron before she tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. Even with a hair net, pins, and a prayer Kapp, her short hair found its way free.
“Don’t think I’m climbing that mountain again tonight.” From inside the pantry, Ada half griped and half laughed the words. “Where is he, anyway?”
Cara rinsed a glass. “He’s working late, something about hardware for a set of cabinets didn’t come in on time. I’m a bit tempted to just show up and help him. Anyone up for the drive to Dry Lake?”
Deborah took a plate from Lori. “I need to visit Daed. Ada, you want to ride with us?”
She stepped out of the pantry. “I told Lori I’d teach her how to sew some doll clothes tonight.”
“We’re gonna make my doll an Amish dress just like mine.”
Deborah put the last item in the cabinet. “Ephraim will be surprised to see you in Dry Lake. I was beginning to think it’d be six months before you crossed that border.”
“Ephraim says I’m stubborn. Sometimes I think he’s right.”
Ada dropped her list and mocked complete shock. “You? He had to be mistaken.”
Deborah pulled her lips in, trying not to laugh. “I’ll go pack to stay at Daed’s for the night. You can share my clothes and my bedroom. You get the horse hitched.”
“We’re going and staying the night?”
“It’ll be good for you. You need some time around Daed and Becca.”
Cara dried her hands and tossed the towel into the dish drainer. “I guess. I mean, if you say so.”
Deborah put her arm around Cara and hugged her. “You and Lori have family and friends in Dry Lake. Get used to it.” Deborah smiled, but tears brimmed. “Go get ready. Ephraim will love being surprised. You do know none of us have ever seen Ephraim so… well… I’ve never seen him even slightly crazy about anyone. I always figured it was just who he was—unable to care passionately about anyone.”
Lori grabbed Ada’s notepad off the floor. “He loves me and Mom.”
Cara’s heart startled, and she looked to Deborah and then to Ada. “He said that?”
“Yeah,” Lori said. “And he hopes we’ll be a family someday. But he doesn’t think you’re ready to talk about that yet.”
Cara chuckled. “I guess I better keep you around, kiddo, so you can keep me posted on things.”
Lori helped Cara hitch the horse to the buggy. Her daughter and Ada waved as Cara and Deborah drove out of sight. It was freeing to have people in Lori’s life that she fully trusted. She asked Deborah a dozen things about the Amish lifestyle as they spent more than an hour getting to Dry Lake—things like how a preacher, deacon, or bishop was chosen, how the Amish always seemed to find work among their own, why some of the younger girls wore the aprons and some didn’t. Soon they were nearing Levina’s old place.
“Hey, Deb, why don’t you let me off here at the conjoined trees?”
“Okay.” Deborah pulled the buggy to a stop. “But whatever you do, don’t go to my brother’s place and fall asleep.”
“Very funny. Just tell him someone’s hanging around the barn with a batch of puppies. That’ll make him head this way.”
“It could make him run for the hills.”
“Then I’ll be in that tree waiting all night.” She jumped down from the buggy and ran to the tree. A dozen memories flooded her as Deborah drove off. Wishing she had on jeans, she managed to climb it, then she rocked back against the trunk and waited.
Ephraim glanced up from the wood in front of him, catching another glimpse of his sister. She looked better every time he saw her. He wasn’t naive enough to think the grief was totally behind her, but it didn’t own all of her anymore. Cara had been very good for her. A little of her New York, in-your-face toughness could go a long way in helping someone like his sister.
Deborah stood in the doorway of the shop. “You need to go to Levina’s barn.” She’d said the same thing a few minutes ago. He
ran the plane across the flat surface, removing a bit of wood. “I’m busy.”
His sister huffed. “If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
Her tone startled him, and he laughed. “I do believe I just heard Cara in your voice.”
“Ya, I think you did. G’night, Ephraim.” The screen door to the shop slapped loudly as his sister left.
He drew a deep breath and set the tools in their place. Maybe he should check out what was going on at the barn. Walking through the dried cornfield, he thought of the first time he’d met Cara. If she’d lived in Dry Lake as she should have, they’d have married years ago. He probably wouldn’t have courted anyone else. She spoke to his soul like no other. They fit.
The more time they had together, the more time they wanted. And he knew it’d be that way for the rest of their lives.
As he came out of the edge of the cornfield, he saw movement in the tree.
“A girl could spend a lot of time up here waiting for you to come by.”
His heart filled with pleasure as he stepped forward. “It’s almost too dark to see you, and I started not to come this way at all, but like my Daadi always said, even a blind squirrel can find a nut every once in awhile.”
“Are you calling me a nut, Ephraim?”
He moved closer. “What are you doing up there?”
“Waiting for you.”
He propped the palm of his hand against the trunk. “I’m here. Are you coming down?”
“Nope. I have things I want to know first.”
“Like how hard you’ll hit the ground if you fall out of that tree?” Wondering if she had any idea what she’d done to his heart, he leaned back against the tree. “Fire away.”
“I’ll be allowed to go through instructions this spring.”
“Really? The bishop said that?”
“Yep. You know what that means, right?”
“Ya. You’ll be a member of the Old Order Amish faith come summer.”
The Hope of Refuge Page 32
