The Harvest of Grace

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “You’re doing your best. That’s all God asks, and He’ll take care of the rest. Just you wait and see.”

  One could not be fully accepted into a culture if she or he couldn’t speak and understand a reasonable amount of the language. As with most things Amish, she could see the reasoning behind that belief, but that didn’t make learning the words any easier.

  The preacher bowed his head in silent prayer, and she followed his lead.

  Peace eased through her. Nearly everything that had happened over the last year had defied logic. Maybe developing the necessary skill in the languages would too. When she came to Dry Lake from the Bronx a year ago, she wanted only one thing—to protect her then seven-year-old daughter from a maniac stalker. But she got so much more. She found Ephraim, a man who’d been willing to do whatever it took to help her. He’d been shunned because of his unrelenting support for her. And in the process, she found God … or He found her. A more mature believer would know which.

  Whoever found who, she never would have believed it possible to shake free of her stalker, get out of poverty, and start fresh. The Old Order Amish ways were far from being like a fairy tale, but the love and hope she’d found inside this community had done much to make up for all the years of brokenness.

  “Cara?” The preacher’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she opened her eyes.

  Alvin rubbed his hand across his mouth, clearly trying to hide his smile. “I said amen … twice.”

  Cara headed for the door. “Well, maybe you cut the prayer time too short.” She sounded sassy as she teased, but she knew Alvin and Esther didn’t mind.

  “Who’d have ever thought extended silent prayer time would bring such a smile to your face?” Alvin grabbed his straw hat and followed her.

  Once outside, Cara saw Ephraim in his buggy, waiting for her. He’d gone through Amish instruction and joined the faith nine years ago. Understanding Ephraim was a little like trying to understand God. There was no logic. It made no sense. But his power to change everything for her was undeniable. How Ephraim had stayed single in a society that put so much stock in marriage also defied her understanding.

  His strawberry blond hair peeped out from under his straw hat. His broad shoulders and lean body always caught her eye. One glimpse of him and she found it impossible to keep the pleasure of it off her face.

  She paused on the front porch. “I wasn’t praying as much as thinking of all the things I’m grateful for,” she told Alvin.

  He put on his hat, making sure it fit snugly. “Feeling gratitude is much like a prayer all on its own. If you thank Him for those things, it becomes a prayer.”

  “You think so?”

  “Ya, I do. You’re doing a good job with the language classes. And you did pretty well with the first instruction class too.”

  Instruction classes. She had eight more sessions to go, and each would take place on a church Sunday between now and fall. The lessons covered the principles of the Christian faith and living Amish.

  She heard hesitation in Alvin’s voice, as if he wanted to add a but. Hoping to avoid that conversation, she thanked him for his time and hurried down the steps and into the buggy. Whatever he saw in her attitude or mind-set that needed to be adjusted would show itself soon enough without her digging around for it.

  Ephraim and Alvin exchanged a few pleasant words. After Ephraim said his good-byes, he clicked his tongue, and the horse started plodding along.

  Cara moved a little closer to him, keeping the expected respectable distance.

  He moved the reins to one hand and placed his arm on the seat back behind her. “This is the rig we used to get you back and forth when you first landed in Dry Lake and hated me.”

  “I never hated you. I just didn’t trust you. And I didn’t like how much power you held over my situation. And your viewpoint concerning my minor thievery really irked me. And … okay, fine, I did dislike you a little, but only for a short while. You didn’t care for me either.”

  “That’s not true.” He slowed the rig. “I liked you from the time we met as children.”

  He was twelve and she was eight when her mother brought her to Dry Lake for a visit. Neither their age nor gender difference kept them from having fun. “That was a great week, wasn’t it?”

  “Ya. Afterward I kept returning to our tree, waiting for your mom to bring you back like she said.” He released a long breath. “That was my first heartbreak.”

  Jealousy crept up her spine. It seemed that he’d spent his years as a bachelor dating nearly every single Amish woman in Dry Lake and the surrounding communities. “Yeah, the first of several.”

  His hand moved to her back and caressed her. “Ya, just the first.” He pulled into a driveway and stopped. “Stay put.” He hopped out, went around the rig, and held out his hand. “The second time I had my heart broken was when I went to New York some eight years later to search for you and never found you.”

  She stared at him from the rig. He had no reservations about telling her how he felt, and she reveled in hearing it, but loving words didn’t roll off her tongue. She adored him, but saying so directly seemed impossible.

  Shooing his hand away, she climbed down on her own. “You’re too good at these verbal games we play. Fine, you win. Maybe you did care.”

  His smile assured her she hadn’t offended him by being sarcastic or rejecting his offer of help.

  She peered around him. “What are we doing at Lena’s?”

  He laughed. “Been paying attention much?”

  “Shut up and answer the question.”

  He placed one hand on the rig on each side of her, capturing her body and her full attention. “I can either shut up, or I can answer your question. I cannot do both.” His eyes caught hers and stayed there. “The third and last time I had my heart broken, I was thirty-two years old. You’d waltzed into Dry Lake, stolen my hopes again, and then made plans to leave.”

  “I didn’t waltz anywhere.” She’d fled in terror from a stalker and stumbled into Dry Lake in utter confusion, with only shards of memories from her childhood. She hadn’t remembered Ephraim, not really. When they talked about it later, they figured the lapse was due to the trauma of her mom being killed soon after they returned to New York.

  His hands moved to her face. “I love you, Cara.”

  Her heart constricted, making her wish she could share her feelings as easily. “Of course you do. We’re engaged. Remember?”

  “I never forget it for a moment. You and the preacher seem to be getting along nicely. That’s a good sign.”

  “He’s really not so bad.”

  “I’m sure he appreciates you thinking so.”

  Ephraim’s closeness reminded her once again that he wasn’t like any other man she’d ever known. He was amazing … and she was ordinary. She clicked her tongue and huffed. “Do you intend to kiss me or just keep driving me crazy?”

  A throat cleared, and they turned to see Lena’s dad with a handsaw gripped in his fist, looking at them. Ephraim released her and eased back, as if an Amish man showing affection in public were normal.

  Israel looked amused. “Is there a reason, Ephraim Mast, why you’re on my property—and about to kiss your girl?”

  “Yeah, there’s a reason,” Cara piped up, ready to harass Israel. “Ada sent us over to give you a few lessons on how to get a kiss and make it count.”

  Israel dropped his saw and seemed unable to move. Ephraim flashed Cara a look that said she’d gone too far. She didn’t think so. Good grief! Israel and Ada had both lost their spouses something like fourteen years ago. From what she’d seen when they were together, they were clearly attracted to each other, but nothing had come of their friendship yet.

  Israel cleared his throat and picked up his saw. “I’d like to say, ‘Well, then, carry on. I’m paying attention.’ But that seems too brash.”

  Cara burst into laughter. “You just said it, didn’t you?”

  “Who, me?” Israel
feigned innocence.

  If she’d had a father growing up, she’d have wanted him to be like Israel. “So where’s Lena?”

  “On the other side of the house, near the road. She’s weeding the flower beds and adding fresh mulch.”

  Cara brushed a string of her prayer Kapp away from her face and over her shoulder. “How is she managing that with her arm in a cast and a medical boot on her sprained ankle?”

  “She moves slower than usual and makes sure to wear at least one work glove.”

  “How’s she really doing, Israel?” Ephraim asked.

  “Pretty well, considering a maniac tried to kill her less than six weeks ago. I’ve not seen any signs of nervousness or bad dreams. Cara, you’re welcome to interrupt her for a visit.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Cara headed in that direction and then turned to Ephraim, silently asking him why they’d stopped here.

  Ephraim adjusted his suspenders. “Israel, we’d like to pick up Lena if you don’t mind.”

  Ah, now Cara knew why they’d come. Ephraim was helping to arrange a meeting between Lena and his friend Grey. The two couldn’t court openly or be seen together very often for several months yet. Cara couldn’t really explain the reasons—something about Amish ways and Grey’s expected period of mourning. Maybe.

  “She’ll be glad you’ve come by to get her. What’s the plan?”

  “We’re going to the shop to do a bit of cleaning, maybe play a game or two.”

  Cara knew they’d do exactly as Ephraim said—clean and then play games. He wouldn’t lie.

  “Sounds good.” Israel nodded once, giving his stamp of approval. “I imagine Grey is already there and will be glad she came to help.” Israel smirked and winked at Cara.

  Yep, if Cara could have had Israel as a dad, she wouldn’t have spent her whole childhood feeling unloved. “Do you happen to need another daughter? I’ve been thinking of adopting a dad.”

  Israel moved toward her. “I’d be honored. I take it things didn’t go well with your father the other night.”

  Cara’s insides flinched. “I … I … You talked to Trevor?”

  “He came to talk to you too, right?” Israel asked.

  She shook her head. She hadn’t seen the man but once since he’d abandoned her at New York’s Port Authority Bus Terminal when she was eight. In April he’d shown up during one of their tourist events at Ada’s House. Something he said gave away his identity, and she called to him, but he walked off. She hadn’t seen him since. Then she discovered he’d been hanging around for months during several of the outdoor events at Ada’s House.

  “Oh.” Israel looked sorry for bringing up the topic. “I went to the lumberyard in Hope Crossing for supplies a few days ago and bumped into him. We went to the Family Restaurant to eat, and he said he was going to see you that very night. We talked about it for quite a while.”

  Her good mood drained away like water poured onto desert sand. Resentment unseated her sense of thankfulness. “You bought him food, didn’t you?”

  “Well, sure.”

  “Did you give him money too?”

  Israel looked sheepish. “Ya, a little.”

  “So, in essence, you paid him to say what you wanted to hear. That’s how it works, Israel.” She’d seen plenty of no-account people in her life, and she could almost promise what someone like Trevor would do. “If you see him again, ignore him. Then you’re guaranteed to hear all sorts of things you don’t want to hear, but at least it’ll be honest.”

  “I think he’s changed, Cara.”

  Fuzzy caterpillars change. Snakes don’t. But someone like Israel wouldn’t understand the kind of man Trevor was. People like him didn’t change, not for the better anyway.

  Cara drew a deep breath, determined to keep her thoughts to herself. The church leaders were backing her with their time and patience so she could succeed at the language, instruction classes, and whatever else was necessary for her to join the faith this fall. They were doing their part and more.

  And she would do hers. All she had to do was keep control of her actions and her tongue, even where her so-called father, Trevor, was concerned.

  Five

  The dull hum of the bus had droned relentlessly until Aaron got off in Shippensburg and walked the six miles to Dry Lake. The full moon played hide-and-seek as feathery silver clouds rolled across the sky.

  An odd rhythm beat inside his chest as he came closer to his parents’ home.

  He left the main road and cut through the back pasture near the Amish schoolhouse. Images of his sister being mangled by his bull in this field haunted him. He could see her body flailing into the air and thudding to earth again. The bull stomped her over and over again. As the memory taunted him, his legs almost buckled.

  His sister’s voice echoed inside his head: You’re their only son. Be a man, get your life straight, and do whatever it takes to help them. They need you.

  He couldn’t count the number of times Elsie had said that to him. She’d understood what rheumatoid arthritis had done to their Daed much better than he had. Aaron’s drinking had blinded him to everything. But now he’d returned to make things right. Knowing Elsie would be pleased lessened his guilt somewhat.

  He crawled over the back fence and kept walking until the homestead came into sight. The old two-story brick farmhouse looked the same as it had when they’d moved here nearly eight years ago.

  It seemed awfully early to be in bed, but he didn’t see any light coming from his home.

  His folks never locked a door, so he went inside. The lingering aroma of his Mamm’s cooking filled the air. How many meals had his mother fixed for him that he’d never thanked her for, never showed up for, never cared about?

  He set his canvas bag on the kitchen table and lit the metal kerosene lantern. “Mamm? Daed?” He grabbed the lantern by the handle and worked his way through each room. “Hello?”

  No one answered.

  He looked out the kitchen window toward the barn. It stood dark too, but the cows weren’t bellowing to be fed and milked, so they’d been looked after.

  A figure cutting across the back field caught his eye. He watched for a moment and realized the person was heading for the cabin. The small building couldn’t be seen from here, and at the time he left for rehab, his parents seemed to have forgotten the run-down place existed on their property. But his drinking buddies knew about it.

  He hurried outside and took the shortcut through the woods. When he came into a clearing, he nearly ran into a woman.

  “Frani?”

  Her thin, blond hair fell a few inches below her shoulders, and thankfully she’d put on some weight, but her posture said she carried even less hope than she had the last time he saw her five months ago. She’d always talked about getting sober, but those words had faded over the years—maybe in some ways because of him. She’d been a decent friend, and he’d never once encouraged her to stop drinking. Instead, he’d invited her and the others to bring booze to the cabin night after night.

  “Aaron, you’re finally back. I had a feeling you’d be here tonight.” She held up a six-pack of beer, and he wanted it. All of it. “I brought you a welcome-home gift.”

  He didn’t need to touch a six-pack to feel its magnetism. It woke him during the night and plagued him throughout the day.

  He glanced toward the thick row of trees that surrounded the cabin. He couldn’t really see it, but he thought he saw a kerosene light shining from a window. “Are there others inside?”

  “Nope.” She dug a cell phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, flipped it open, and pushed buttons. “But I’m giving them a call.”

  The clumsiness of her moves and the slur in her words indicated that she was more than a little intoxicated.

  Aaron took the phone from her and ended the call before passing it back to her. “There won’t be any more drinking at the cabin, Frani. Not tonight or any night.”

  “Why not?”

  “Becaus
e I said so.” Trying to explain his new goals was a waste of time in her present condition. He looked toward the hidden parking area but didn’t see any vehicles. “Where’s your car?”

  “Where it’s supposed to be. Don’t worry. Your folks won’t see it.”

  “Kumm.” He headed toward the thicket where his old friends used to park.

  “Wait.” She stumbled. “Me and some of the gang have been by the cabin lots of times in the last five months. It’s neat and tidy every time, but you were never there.”

  Neat and tidy?

  She pushed strands of dirty hair out of her face. “We’ve missed you.”

  Before rehab, he might have believed they actually cared, and the power of that would have dragged him wherever they wanted. But now he saw a big enough sliver of truth that he understood. He hadn’t been missed—only the right to use the abandoned shack on his property.

  He took her by the arm and started walking. “I’ll drive you home.”

  When he got back here tonight, he’d board up the cabin. That should put an end to his old drinking buddies coming around.

  When they reached her car, Frani passed him the keys. Before sliding into the passenger seat, she pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her jeans pocket. She groped through the trash on the dashboard until she found a lighter, lit up, and stared out the window while filling her lungs with smoke.

  Aaron ran his hand over the steering wheel and started the engine. He’d learned how to drive in this car, cruising dirt roads late at night, drunk with his friends. All of that was over now. He hadn’t joined the faith yet, but he intended to as soon as he and his family were living in Owl’s Perch.

  While Aaron drove, Frani finished her cigarette without saying a word.

  He wrestled with what to say to her. He wanted to bury the past. Everything he needed to accomplish—winning his parents’ approval, starting fresh, earning a little respect within the Amish community, avoiding having beer waved in his face—would be easier if he didn’t have to see her again.

  But she deserved to have someone help her do what she’d always dreamed of—getting sober. Maybe she’d forgotten about that hope, but he bet that somewhere inside her that dream still existed. His sister might still be alive today if he’d had the clear thinking of a sober man. He had no way of knowing how the past might have played out if he hadn’t been a drunk, but he did know that if Frani stayed on this course, the possible disasters ahead were endless. And she deserved better.