Whether or not the man she was looking at was Mahlon, he would return one day—probably with a wife and children. And he’d eventually walk right onto the porch of Ada’s house and wait until they invited him in. When he did, she intended for her and Ada to own a very successful business. Somehow.
Jonathan brought his horse alongside her. The man was still too far away to know if it was Mahlon. A car pulled up in front of him and tooted the horn. The man seemed to be staring at her, but then he got into the vehicle.
“You ready to get moving?” Jonathan asked.
The car drove out of sight before she managed to look up at Jonathan.
“Actually … I think I am.”
Seven
With Ivan perched on his shoulders and a basket of fish in one hand and poles in the other, Grey walked toward home. He heard a woman saying one-syllable words—“Got ya,” “No way,” “I win,” “I don’t think so”—but he couldn’t see her. He was on the road beside the Kauffman house, and by the sounds of it, Lennie was somewhere nearby, probably in the side yard or under a shade tree, playing a board game with her Daed. He kept walking, but still he didn’t see either of them.
Ivan laughed.
“Was iss es?” Grey waited, expecting his son to point or tell him what he was laughing at, but the boy broke into a long cackle. A little concerned he might fall, Grey dropped the basket of fish and his poles and steadied his son’s shaking body. He glanced around the yard and saw what his son was watching.
Lennie and her dog. Nicky was facing her, squatting low. When Lennie made a playful step toward Nicky, the dog ran in huge circles before stopping. Nicky then squatted again, ready to lunge toward or run from. Lennie ran toward her. The dog took off, but not before Lennie touched her side. “Ha, I won.”
The dog barked like mad, as if arguing with Lennie’s announcement of victory. Nicky ran several circles and squatted low on her front legs, her tail lifted high in the air, wagging. Lennie danced around, her fists taut as she made circles with them in rhythm. “Oh no. I won. Game done.”
Nicky ran at her, stopped abruptly, barked, and then took off. While teasing the dog and hopping around, Lennie caught a glimpse of Grey. The victory dance ended midstep. Her eyes grew large, and something between embarrassment and amusement played across her face.
“Teacher Lena.” Grey nodded once. “What are you doing?”
She gained control over her surprise. “Wie bischt du Heit?” She straightened, asking Ivan how he was today.
“Hund!” Ivan chirped loudly.
“Ya, en verhuddelder Hund.”
Ivan laughed at Lennie saying she had a confused dog.
Before he’d married, Grey raised dogs, and one year Lennie’s Daed had asked Grey to keep an eye out for a particularly good dog for her, one that matched a whole list of things she would like in a pet. By the time Nicky was eight weeks old, Grey knew she’d make a perfect dog for Lennie. Grey thought Nicky was the best kind of dog—a mixed breed. She had a little Chow, Labrador retriever, and Australian Shepherd in her, and weighed about fifty pounds fully mature.
Lennie dusted off her hands. “Any news from the board I need to know about?”
“No. We got it all settled.”
She nodded, crossed the yard, and held out her hand for Ivan’s. He placed his inside hers. She talked to him in Pennsylvania Dutch, telling him that he was growing fast and that he’d be in her class, ready to learn how to read and write, by this time next year.
“Haldscht Schul fer die Handikap?” Ivan asked.
Startled, Grey found it hard to catch his breath. Did she teach at a school for the handicapped? He was sure his eyes mirrored the same confusion as Lennie’s.
She looked at Ivan and told him no.
“Ich geh in die Handikap Schul,” Ivan said.
Grey couldn’t believe his son’s words. What made him think he would go to the handicap school?
Lennie searched Grey’s eyes for a moment. Feeling insulted by whoever had told his son that, Grey lifted him off his shoulders and held him. His son was small for his age and missing part of an arm, and if Grey dared to be painfully honest, Ivan was a good bit less mature than most five-year-olds, but none of that qualified him to attend a school for the handicapped. Speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch, Grey asked who’d told him he was going to the handicap school.
“Mamm.”
Anger—years of it—swooped through Grey. Their son was missing part of one arm. What would possess his wife to tell him he needed to go to a school for the handicapped?
Silently fighting offense as he never had before, he felt displaced, as if he weren’t really there. Yet he noticed every movement and heard every word. Lennie held out her arms for Ivan, asking if he wanted to pet the doggy. Ivan went to her. She gently commanded Nicky to lie down. The dog obeyed, and Lennie knelt beside Ivan while they petted the dog and talked about her fur being soft, like a rabbit’s.
When Grey regained his ability to move, he picked up the basket. “He’ll go to our local school.”
Lennie stood. “I … I’m sure she’s only thinking of his best interest.”
“Oh, ya, sure.” Grey doubted that his effort to conceal his frame of mind hid anything at all.
Lennie shrugged. “It’s nearly a year away yet.”
“Ya.” Grey motioned for Ivan. “Kumm mol, loss uns geh.” As soon as Grey said, Come on, let’s go, his little boy hurried to him, telling Lennie bye.
He put Ivan on his shoulders again. Lena grabbed the poles off the ground and passed them to him. He mumbled his thanks and started walking. Hard. Fast. Unforgiving.
The closer he got to his house, the more resentment woke inside him. When he came to the sidewalk that led to his front door, he walked straight past it. He didn’t trust what he might say … or how he’d say it.
He and Elsie were fragile. Although he was hard-pressed to imagine how they could be more distant than they already were, he didn’t doubt it was possible. Ignoring his intense desire to set her straight about their son, he took Ivan with him and kept walking.
“Daed? Heem geh?” Ivan asked.
Needing to answer his son’s question about where they were going, Grey quickly decided on his destination. He told him they were going to the cabinetry shop. They often went there on Saturday afternoons, and Ivan enjoyed it. With Grey’s long strides and his taking shortcuts through several fields, he was soon on Mast property.
As he approached the shop, he heard the air compressor running, followed by bursts of noise as nails were shot into wood. When he crossed the threshold, he saw Ephraim inside a frame of what would eventually be a standing pantry. He’d like to talk to Ephraim, but he wouldn’t. His burdens were between him and Elsie.
Ephraim glanced up and gave a nod before continuing with his work.
A few moments later Ephraim walked to the generator and turned off the compressor. “Been to the pond, huh?”
Grey set the fishing tackle on the concrete floor. “Ya.” He took Ivan off his shoulders. His son went to the barrel of scraps and pulled out blocks of wood to build with.
“Grab that crown molding for me, will ya?” Ephraim asked.
Grey brought four sections to him.
Ephraim passed him a piece of sandpaper. “The Wertzes want this same molding to run along the wall from the top of the pantry to the floor. It works in spite of the wave that’s in the Wertzes’ walls, but I could use your help coping these inside corners to fit against the pantry. I was at their place earlier, so I’ve already measured and marked everything accordingly.”
Grey gave a nod, and they began sanding the wood.
“I appreciate you coming in on Saturdays and helping here and there.”
Grey didn’t want to admit that he was using this time today to avoid going home, so he nodded again.
“If you ever have something you want to tell me …”
He shook his head. “Can’t. But thanks.”
The two worked
in silence for a while.
Then Ephraim laid the wood to the side. “Cara didn’t trust me at all at first. Did you know that?”
“No.”
The sound of Ivan smacking wood against the concrete floor echoed through the room.
Ephraim rested against the workbench. “All I remember thinking about her at first was that I wanted her out of Dry Lake before anyone else could catch wind of who she was. When I had to step up and speak to the police to keep her and Lori from being separated, I realized she wasn’t just an inconvenience who had showed up in my life at the worst time ever. She was a real person who hadn’t been given a break in a really long time.” Ephraim shrugged. “I think the only reason I recognized that in her is because I’d seen it in you time and again.”
The weight around him grew stronger, pressing in like he was caught under deep water. “I … we need help,” Grey whispered, releasing years of hidden truth. “I … can’t imagine going on like this, and there is no way out. You know that.” Grey’s eyes burned, and he glanced across the room at his son. Ivan had surrounded himself with blocks of scrap wood and was stacking them as high as he could. “We’ve been in separate rooms for years. She refuses to talk about anything. How can I make that work?”
“Separate.…” The look on Ephraim’s face and the tone of his voice held alarm and distress, and Grey found comfort in it. With that one awful word, Ephraim understood Grey’s isolation and the impassable cinder-block wall surrounding him and Elsie. “Why?”
“I don’t know, at least not the real reason. There are times when I’m not sure I care anymore.” Grey clasped his hands around his head. “Maybe I’m pushing her away.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It …” He lowered his hands and walked to the doublewide open door. Gazing out over the fields, he tried to find the courage to confess. “The regret began without my permission.… I’d wake at night, or maybe it woke me, but I wish we’d never married.”
Ephraim moved next to him. “It can’t be all that uncommon for people to feel that way sometimes.”
He stared off in the distance, wishing he hadn’t started this conversation and yet too desperate to keep it all inside any longer. “If she’s picking up on how I feel, maybe I carry more blame than I think I do.”
“Or maybe she’s causing those feelings. Whatever’s going on, there have to be answers.”
He turned around to check on Ivan before he looked straight at Ephraim. “I’m so stinking mad at her right now that I’m afraid to go home. Just before I came here, Ivan said she plans on sending him to the handicap school.” Grey smacked the metal frame of the door with the palm of his hand. “As the head of our home, I have final say about where he goes, but why would she tell him that? Is he not perfect enough for her? Does she want to hide him from our district?” Even though Ivan didn’t understand much English and was at the far end of the building, Grey had whispered his words. “The closest school of that kind is nearly two hours away. We’d have to move, and I’d have to find a new job. If I thought he needed it, I’d do it. Is she seeing him wrong, or am I?”
The sound of wooden blocks tumbling made both Ephraim and Grey look at Ivan. He stood in the middle of strewn blocks, kicking them.
“I know he’s a little immature, but—”
“Grey,” Ephraim interrupted, “if we sent every immature first grader to the handicap school, a lot of us would’ve gone there. Including me.”
“He’s smart. I know he is.”
“He seems bright to me.”
“Then why would his own mother want to send him there?”
“Don’t know. He’s suppose to start school next year, right?”
“Ya.”
“If I were you, I’d refuse to argue about it. You need an outside opinion, and I’d bet Lena would be the best help. I could be biased, since she’s my cousin, but she’s really good at what she does—understanding and helping her scholars. If she spent an afternoon testing him, like she does her first-grade students right before they start school, she could tell you how close he is to lining up with the other children his age. And she could probably let you know how much of a handicap he has because of his missing arm.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. She’d be honest too. She can always be trusted for that, but I don’t know if Elsie will hear her.”
Ephraim placed his hand on Grey’s shoulder. “I find it hard to believe, but you still care what your wife thinks.”
He gave a nod before he turned to study the fields, willing wisdom and direction to come to him. “The one thing I’ve learned about being married is that how I feel changes nothing. Ever.”
“Whatever you do will be tough, but maybe what love you two do have is tougher.”
Ephraim’s words butted against the constant negative whispers inside Grey—the ones that spoke to him of defeat over and over again.
Love never fails.
He caught a glimpse of understanding, as if seeing inside an unfamiliar room for a brief moment. Love had a hope all its own.
“Daed?” Ivan tugged at Grey’s pant leg. “Heem geh?”
Feeling tears sting his eyes, Grey lifted his son and held him close. “Ya, loss uns Heemet geh.” He looked to Ephraim. “It’s time I go on home now.”
Eight
In her jeans and with her short crop of hair down, Cara continued reading the Sunday paper, enjoying the slower pace of between Sundays. Lori sat on a kitchen stool beside her, giggling over the comics. Cara hadn’t seen Ada or Deborah yet this morning, although she knew they were up. A fresh pot of coffee and a small fire in the potbelly stove had greeted her and Lori when they’d entered the kitchen about thirty minutes ago.
Deborah walked into the kitchen looking every bit as Amish as she did on the other six days of the week, except she had on a white organdy apron that didn’t cover the top half of her dress. Her hair was fixed just so. She made living Amish look easy. “Guder Marye.” Deborah bid a good morning before grabbing the poker. She opened the lid to the potbelly stove and stirred the embers. “We don’t want this burning for long, but we needed a little something to remove the nip in the air. I take it you’re not going to Dry Lake with us for services this morning?”
Cara bit her tongue and shook her head. It was an off day, for Pete’s sake. Besides, she had yard work to do. While shopping at yard sales yesterday, she’d found an item she wanted but didn’t have the money for. An older woman at the sale offered to buy the item for Cara in exchange for some yard work. So the two of them struck a deal, and by tonight Cara would have earned a fantastic gift for Lori. Of course it was used, but Lori wouldn’t mind that part—if she even noticed it.
Deborah fixed herself a cup of coffee. “Ada will be down in a minute. We’re leaving extra early so I can visit my family first. You’re welcome to join us. We’ll stay for the meal afterward and probably visit until midafternoon.”
“Nope, we’re good. Thanks.” Cara liked between Sundays ever so much more than church Sundays. Ephraim had church today in Dry Lake, and he would come to Hope Crossing next Sunday to go to church with her, Lori, Ada, and Deborah. But so far he’d not pressed her to come to Dry Lake on her off Sundays. She appreciated that. It was enough for her that she sat through three hours of unintelligible preaching every other Sunday. Of course Ephraim understood the language spoken during the service, and he’d grown up attending three-hour services.
What possessed the Amish to have such long services anyway? But sometimes, when a few Pennsylvania words that she understood were strung together, she found it exciting. And those rare moments helped move the service from hair-pulling boring to slightly interesting.
Deborah sipped her drink. “Just as well, I suppose. The meeting will be held at the Lantzes’ today.”
“Lantz?” Cara tried to hide the snarl she felt. “As in Anna Mary Lantz?”
“Ya. It’s at her parents’ place.”
Anna Mary’s parents—just the t
hought of them set her on edge. Their deceit had ruined Cara’s mother’s life and had opened the floodgates of bad luck. It’d overflowed into Cara’s life and even Lori’s, yet the Lantzes were still members in good standing. She’d never understand the Amish ways. Not ever.
“But if you don’t go.… Well, I just want some backup when Lena returns the favor for our prank on her.”
“She won’t pull anything on a Sunday during church, will she?”
“No, not during the service but maybe afterward.”
“Good luck with that, Deb.” Cara patted her on the shoulder.
“You’re awful. The plan was yours after all.”
Cara shrugged. “Yeah, but Lori and I met an old woman yesterday. She lives a few doors down, and we’re going to her house in a little bit.”
“To visit?” Deborah asked.
“Sort of. I’ll tell you the rest when we get back.” She placed her index finger over her lips before pointing at Lori. “It’s a surprise.”
“But you’re not wearing that, are you?”
Cara looked down at her clothes. “Yep. It’s my off day. I’m comfortable. And I’m in my rumschpringe.”
“Well, now, see, you’re a little wrong. It’s the Lord’s Day. You’ve already admitted that dresses are just as comfortable as jeans. And the rumschpringe doesn’t apply to you since its purpose is for freedom to find a spouse and you’ve found one.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “Hair pinned back and prayer Kapp too?”
“You don’t have to, but do you think wearing only part of our Amish apparel is a good idea?”
“I guess not.” She sighed. “Great.”
Ada walked into the kitchen, wearing what looked like a new burgundy dress under a new apron. Cara whistled.
Ada’s cheeks grew pink. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cara.”
“Oh, so there isn’t a man in Dry Lake you’re hoping to look good for?” Cara continued to tease.
Deborah’s face radiated behind her mostly hidden smile, and Cara knew she hoped the same thing for Ada.
The Bridge of Peace Page 6
