Courting Her Prodigal Heart

by Mary Davis

  “Forgiveness is for the repentant. Something she is not.” Andrew spun around and strode away.

  Bishop Bontrager gazed toward his enkelin. “He’ll come around, Dorcas.”

  “Why’s that? Because he didn’t inherit your stubborn streak?” She disappeared inside.

  Chapter Four

  The following morning, Dori had slept late—well, late for an Amish. She threw back the blanket and sat up on the couch.

  It took some doing, but she’d managed to convince the bishop to stay in his room and let her sleep in the living room. She’d slept more soundly than she had in over a month since being kicked out of Craig’s apartment. She had no more worries that anyone would steal her belongings during the night. Sleeping in sweatpants and a T-shirt rather than her jeans and jacket had helped, as well.

  The bishop didn’t appear to be anywhere in the haus. Had he already left with Eli? She pictured Eli’s kind face when he’d bought her a sandwich two days ago. Had she missed seeing him this morning?

  She heard a sound on the porch, as though something or someone had stepped on a creaky board. With her hand, she pushed aside the blue curtain enough to see out.

  Her mutter hurried away from the dawdy haus across the lawn back to the big haus.

  What had she been doing here? Had she intended to come for a visit, then changed her mind? Ne. She wouldn’t defy Vater. Then why?

  Out of curiosity, Dori opened the front door. On the porch sat a bundle of neatly folded fabrics. She picked up the pile and shut the door.

  She spread out the clothes on the couch. Mutter had delivered two cape dresses—one royal blue, the other a medium pink—two aprons—one white and one black—and a white kapp. In the kapp lay several bobby pins. Everything Dori needed to dress the part of an Amish woman. These looked suspiciously like the garments she’d left behind. Mutter was welcoming her home even if Vater wasn’t. She wanted Dori to fit in. To look Amish. To stay.

  But Dori didn’t want any of those things. She had been away for several years and had returned in shame. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant and Craig hadn’t thrown her out, she would never have come back. Being destitute and desperate had forced her home.

  Home?

  Was this home? For the time being, because she had no other option. If only Craig would have accepted their baby. No matter how much she needed her Amish family, this would never be home again.

  She fingered the pink dress. Mutter remembered it had been her favorite color as a girl.

  Dori wouldn’t feel right wearing Amish clothes. That would give everyone the impression she had come home to stay. Which she hadn’t. She was no more Amish than Craig. Or any Englisher. She hadn’t fitted in before she left and didn’t fit in now. Her vater and the bishop had repeatedly chastised her for one thing or another, trying to make her into a gut Amish woman, but she never could do things quite right, questioned too many of the rules. She’d been a disappointment to everyone. It had been best to leave. For everyone.

  Though unwilling to return and no longer Amish, she did need help right now.

  She hadn’t expected to have a warm welcome, but she hadn’t expected Vater to scorn her as he had. And she certainly hadn’t expected the bishop, of all people, to take her in. Of anyone, she would have expected him to be the toughest on her, but he was the most welcoming. What had caused his attitude change? If he could show her mercy and grace, maybe there was hope that her vater would soften toward her, as well. Would Eli too? She hoped so.

  She took the pile of Amish clothes and tucked them behind the couch’s end table in the corner. She didn’t need the bishop pestering her to wear them.

  After taking a gut long shower, she frowned at her brown roots in the mirror. She wouldn’t be touching those up anytime soon.

  Overnight, her stomach seemed to have swelled so much that her jeans were no longer big enough to close. She settled for her lime-green sweatpants and an oversize neon orange T-shirt. Definitely not authorized Amish colors, but they fitted over her growing middle.

  Now, for breakfast.

  A single rinsed bowl with a spoon sat in the bottom of the kitchen sink. It looked as though the bishop had had cold cereal for breakfast. Or had he gone to the big haus?

  No matter. She opened cupboards and drawers until she had a spoon, bowl and two boxes of cereal. The first, bran flakes with raisins, and the second, sugarcoated corn flakes. His version of sweetening his cereal. She was glad to see he hadn’t changed in that respect. She mixed the two in her bowl and poured the milk. She’d actually missed this.

  When she was a very little girl, from about age six until she was ten or so, she would sneak across the yard to the dawdy haus and eat breakfast with him on Saturday mornings. She laughed to herself. She’d thought no one knew, that it was her and Grossvater’s secret, but Mutter likely watched her skip across the grass, then pretended to be worried over her absence.

  Then things began to change. Kathleen Yoder had defied the church leaders and the bishop by leaving the community and attending college. Grossvater had spoken against her actions. He’d pointed a finger in Dori’s face and told her to never do anything like that. His anger had scared her, and she stopped her weekly breakfast treks to sit at his table.

  Enough of thinking of things lost. She needed to wash her clothes so she could wear something else tomorrow.

  Sometime later, noise from behind the dawdy haus drew her to the door. She opened it.

  In the grass stood a wagon full of lumber as well as three young Amish men with the bishop. One was Eli. She allowed herself a moment to savor Eli’s presence, then studied the other two. Who were they? Daniel Burkholder, and the other was...Benjamin Yoder. So the bishop had used his influence to rope in more help. How many more would show up at his request?

  Eli hoisted several two-by-fours at once that had to be ten feet long. Smithing had made him quite strong. The other two young men worked together to carry an equal stack. While the bishop carried smaller items like a bag of nails, hand tools and other lightweight things. Eli set his load in the grass and headed back to the wagon for more. His gaze fell on her, and she smiled. He froze. His eyes widened, as though he’d been caught raiding the kitchen in the middle of the night.

  She glanced down at herself. She must look a fright in her brightly colored sweatpants and top...and no makeup. Or had the bishop told him about her condition? She hoped not. She didn’t want the tenuous bond between them to be broken. She resisted the urge to place her hands on her rounding belly and leaned a little forward so her baggy T-shirt would camouflage it better. He’d been careful not to mention that the smaller room would be for the baby. She appreciated that. She wasn’t ashamed of being pregnant, but for some reason, she didn’t want Eli to know. Maybe she would be gone before he ever found out.

  This was foolishness. “Don’t you need a building permit before you start?” Dori had hoped the bishop would have to wait a couple of weeks before one was issued, giving her a chance to make other arrangements.

  The bishop waved a piece of paper in the air. “Got one. Since this is a simple addition with no plumbing, they have a swift process to grant us permits without delay.”

  Some Amish obtained waivers to exclude parts of construction that went against their community’s Ordnung but were mandatory in Englisher homes, like indoor plumbing, smoke and carbon monoxide detectors. This wasn’t new construction, merely a simple addition. But this New Order Amish community had most of the same conveniences as people in the outside world, so there wasn’t usually a need to get a waiver, which would take time.

  Now, she was going to feel guilty when she left because he’d put in all this money, time, effort and supplies for this project. Probably his plan. A way to shame her into staying. She doubted he could be stopped if he didn’t want to be. His son had probably tried. Maybe she could talk to Eli and convince him to delay the
work.

  Doubtful. She’d seen his resolve solidify when she’d tried to get him to turn the bishop down for this project. He apparently planned to be as stubborn as the bishop. The image of Craig popped into her mind. He was stubborn too. She pushed thoughts of him aside for the time being.

  For now, she turned her attention back to the activity outside. She would like to plant herself on the stoop and watch Eli while he worked, but that would make everyone feel awkward.

  So she stayed for a minute before closing the door and taking the impressive image of the blacksmith with her.

  With Eli fresh on her mind, Dori headed back to the living room. On her way, she checked on the clothes she’d left to dry in the bathroom. They hung over the shower rod and dripped into the tub as well as onto a towel on the floor. They should be fully dry by morning. She would’ve hung her Englisher clothes outside, but that would have drawn unwanted attention to her family. She needed to remain as invisible as possible during her stay.

  She opened her backpack on the couch and retrieved her laptop and cell phone as well as their chargers. Then she unplugged the coffee maker and toaster, and plugged in her devices, stringing the cords over to the table. The phone cord didn’t reach, so she slid the table closer to the counter.

  The bishop probably never imagined having such electronics in his haus. But maybe he should. More and more Amish were forced to have websites for online businesses. With farmland becoming increasingly more scarce to purchase, many had to resort to working for various manufacturers or home-building companies, or starting their own construction business or other ventures. The ones with businesses needed websites to draw customers from outside the community. Englishers were nuts for anything Amish made. Foolish people.

  She opened her laptop and powered it up. Fortunately, Janis at the shelter, who stole other people’s property, never discovered Dori had this. While she waited for her laptop, she switched on her cell phone and turned it into a hot spot to get Wi-Fi. The service would likely be glitchy, but she had unlimited data, and it would be better than nothing. How had she grown up without computers and the internet?

  She logged on to her email account. All junk mail. Nothing from Craig. Working to the sound of clunking lumber being stacked and male voices, she turned her efforts to searching for a job. After an hour of filling out online applications, she made herself toast with peanut butter and returned to the table. Needing a break from job hunting, she opened a new browser window and let her fingers hover over the keys. What should she search for?

  For fun, she typed in Eli Hochstetler and hit Enter. To her surprise, hundreds of posts came up from various social media platforms. After the first page of results, the rest were obviously not relevant. She found three that seemed like they were referring to her Eli. All three raved about his ironwork. She clicked on each one and read. One for an herb chopper, the second for a kitchen knife and the third for a weather vane. Pictures for all three items, but none of Eli directly. His muscled arm wielding a hammer in one, the back of his head in another, his rugged profile in the third. She lingered on that picture the longest. Why were Amish so set against having their picture taken? It was only a picture. And Eli photographed well.

  Then she studied the backgrounds of all three pictures. Multiples of similar items like the ones in the posts. It appeared as though Eli Hochstetler had gone into business, making more than just horseshoes. Gut for him. He’d always loved pounding on iron. She’d often wondered if he liked it because that was an acceptable way of letting out his aggression. But he never acted angry, like he needed to find a way to disguise the emotion. He genuinely seemed as though he simply enjoyed smithing.

  She dug in her backpack and pulled out the door knocker. He had always done gut work. He must have a website. She would like to see all the things he’d made. After trying every variation of website names she could think of for him, her efforts yielded nothing. How disappointing.

  Eli glanced at the dawdy haus again, but since that first glimpse, Rainbow Girl hadn’t shown herself. What was she doing inside?

  Bishop Bontrager took hold of the horse’s harness. “I’m going to go unhitch Nelly and turn her out in the field.”

  Eli raised up from where he set a bag of powdered cement. “I can do that if you want me to.”

  “Danki, but I can do it.” The bishop walked the big draft horse away, pulling the wagon.

  Eli turned to the other two and grasped the handle of one of the shovels. “Let’s dig a shallow trench for the cinder blocks first.” They would form the foundation of the addition. The string lines had already been set out.

  Benjamin Yoder took the other shovel.

  Daniel Burkholder grabbed the pick. “I can’t believe the bishop is letting an outrageous Englisher live in his home. And building her a room.”

  Eli could hardly believe it himself, but that was not something to voice out loud. One didn’t question the bishop. Besides, the bishop’s actions fell under their Amish rules of forgiveness. “Why shouldn’t he? She’s his enkelin.”

  “She abandoned our faith and is English now.”

  Though Benjamin Yoder didn’t say anything, he nodded his agreement with Daniel.

  Eli didn’t like anyone speaking poorly of her. “She’s obviously decided to return.” At least he hoped that was what she’d decided.

  “Dressed like that? And what about her hair? The bishop can’t allow that. Do you think he’s okay? He is pretty old.”

  “Of course, he’s fine.” But Eli had to wonder about the bishop, as well. In times past, he wouldn’t have tolerated her appearance, but now, he seemed fine with her returning as she was. He leaned his shovel against the outside of the haus. “I’m going to get a drink of water. Start without me.” He charged up the back steps and through the doorway, wiping his dusty boots as he entered. Then he stopped short. He shouldn’t barge into a haus unannounced with a woman inside. “Hallo?”

  Rainbow Girl stepped into his field of vision from the kitchen area. “Hallo.”

  His insides did funny things at the sight of her.

  “Did you need something?”

  He cleared his throat. “I came for a drink of water.”

  “Come on in.” She pulled a glass out of the cupboard, filled it at the sink and handed it to him.

  “Danki.”

  She gifted him with a smile. “Bitte. How’s it going out there?”

  He smiled back. “Fine.” He gulped half the glass, then slowed down to sips. No sense rushing.

  After a minute, she folded her arms. “Go ahead. Ask your question.”

  “What?”

  “You obviously want to ask me something. What is it? Why do I color my hair all different colors? Why do I dress like this? Why did I leave? What is it?”

  She posed all gut questions, but not the one he needed an answer to. A question that was no business of his to ask.

  “Go ahead. Ask. I don’t mind.” Very un-Amish, but she’d offered. Ne, insisted.

  He cleared his throat. “Are you going to stay?”

  She stared for a moment, then looked away. Obviously, not the question she’d expected, nor one she wanted to answer.

  He’d made her uncomfortable. He never should have asked. What if she said ne? Did he want her to say ja? “You don’t have to tell me.” He didn’t want to know anymore.

  She pinned him with her steady brown gaze. “I don’t know. I don’t want to, but I’m sort of in a bind at the moment.”

  Maybe for the reason she’d been so sad the other day, which had made him feel sympathy for her.

  He appreciated her honesty. “Then why does our bishop think you are?”

  “He’s hoping I do.”

  His heart tightened. “Why are you giving him false hope?” Why was she giving Eli false hope?

  “I’m not. I’ve told him this is tem
porary. He won’t listen. Maybe you could convince him to stop this foolishness—” she waved her hand toward where the building activity was going on “—before it’s too late.”

  He chuckled. “You don’t tell the bishop what to do. He tells you.”

  He really should head back outside to help the others. Instead, he filled his glass again and leaned against the counter. He studied her over the rim of his glass. Did he want Rainbow Girl to stay? She’d certainly turned things upside down around here. Turned him upside down. Instead of working in his forge—where he most enjoyed spending time—he was here, and gladly so. He preferred working with iron rather than wood, but today, carpentry strangely held more appeal.

  Time to get back to work. He guzzled the rest of his water and set the glass in the sink. “Danki.” As he turned to leave, something on the table caught his attention. The door knocker he’d made years ago for Dorcas—Rainbow Girl—ne, Dorcas, but now Rainbow Girl had it. They were the same person, but not the same. He crossed to the table and picked up his handiwork. “You kept this?”

  She came up next to him. “Ja. I liked having a reminder of...”

  “Of what?” Dare he hope him?

  She stared at him. “Of...my life growing up here.”

  That was probably a better answer. He didn’t need to be thinking of her as anything more than a lost Englisher.

  She pointed to her computer on the table. “I found posts online about a few of your iron pieces you made that Englishers bought. They all praised your work.”

  “I don’t care about such things.”

  “You should. You could sell a lot more of your pieces with reviews like that, but I couldn’t find your website.”

  “I don’t have one.” He’d hoped to be able to sell enough to make a living off his work. So far, he hadn’t and realized he would need a website, but he didn’t want to be beholden to her to get it. He wanted to be self-sufficient.

  He needed to create more pieces, and now was a perfect time—with the lighter workload with Vater’s fields rented out.