“I’m Sylvia Fisher, and these are Aaron’s parents, Michael and Dora.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Hannah shook hands with each of them, then raised a finger, took a step back, and said, “Paul?”
She’d not said it loudly, but a man several feet away immediately looked at her. She smiled at him. He excused himself from the person he was talking with and headed straight for her.
“Paul, these are Aaron’s parents, Michael and Dora, and a friend, Sylvia Fisher.”
Paul shook Michael’s hand, then Dora’s, welcoming them. When he came to Sylvia, she said, “I don’t think he’d say I’m a friend.”
Michael frowned. “I thought you two were getting along.”
Sylvia didn’t know what to say to that. Aaron didn’t snipe at her as much as at first, but they were in a tug of war over the farm’s future. It was possible that Michael didn’t realize he was the rope.
Paul glanced at Hannah, a warm smile passing between them before he returned his attention to the newcomers. “We’re really glad you’re here. Let’s find Aaron and let him know. Then maybe we can all chat for a bit.”
“I didn’t come to talk,” Michael said.
“What did bring you here?” Paul asked.
“Sylvia, mostly.”
Paul shifted. “Aaron’s quite a man, but the more support he has, the better he’ll be at fighting the good fight.”
A baffled look covered Michael’s face, but he said nothing. Sylvia let Michael and Dora follow directly behind Paul, then fell into step after them. They walked into a room where there were twelve chairs arranged in a circle. Aaron was one of a half-dozen men sitting and talking.
“This is our group counseling room,” Paul said. “Men and women come here to share their experiences—temptations, failures, and victories. Right now they’re just visiting.” Paul moved toward Aaron, with Michael and Dora right behind him. He touched Aaron on the shoulder.
The initial shock on Aaron’s face soon turned into a smile. He stood. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
Dora hugged him, whispering something Sylvia couldn’t hear.
Michael backed away, clearly indicating that he didn’t want to be embraced. He nodded at Sylvia. “This was her idea.”
Aaron’s eyes met hers. “Why?”
She glanced at his parents before shrugging.
“Why don’t you help yourself to some food and look around?” Paul said. “Then we’ll all go someplace where we can talk more privately.”
Hannah directed Michael and Dora to a table spread with snacks, but Sylvia hung back. Paul was talking to Aaron, and when he turned to face her, she smiled briefly and went to the far end of the room. She looked out the window. This was someone’s farm at one time, and the rolling hills and pastures were gorgeous.
“I don’t understand you,” Aaron said, startling her. “If fences are mended between my parents and me, that will make it easier to convince them to move.”
“Some things are bigger than you and me and that farm.”
“Why, Sylvia Fisher, I do believe you’ve committed blasphemy.” Standing there grinning, he—with his broad, powerful shoulders—demanded her attention. “Would you like a tour?”
She didn’t regret coming or pushing Dora and Michael to do so, but she felt confused by the emotions Aaron unearthed. “No, thanks. I’m fine right here.”
He took her by the hand. “Kumm.”
The warmth and power and gentleness of his grip confused her even more. When they were outside, she pulled her hand free. They walked the grounds, and he showed her what he called the dorm rooms. Then they toured the stables before taking a seat at a picnic table.
“If it won’t bother you,” Aaron said, “I’d like to ask Mamm and Daed to go by the appliance store while they’re this close.”
“That was Michael’s plan from the start.”
“He said as much?”
“Ya, but I wouldn’t put too much stock in it. We’re in the area, so it makes sense.”
“I take it that going there wasn’t your idea.”
“I bet it smells of rubber and grease and diesel fuel.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll feel sick at my stomach before we’re through.”
“This from a girl who drinks her coffee while milking cows.”
“It’s true. I’ll feel closed in, like I can’t breathe.”
“Good grief. There are windows.”
He seemed to think she was kidding. But being in a store often gave her a headache. Maybe it was the dyes or fumes that emanated from the items. “I’m not saying my reaction isn’t weird, but I always feel that way in a store. Nauseated and suffocated.”
He laughed. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Very.”
Michael and Dora came outside, each with a plate and drink in hand. Michael sat next to Aaron. “This place isn’t at all what I thought it would be. I expected something like a hospital but a lot dirtier.”
“I wrote about the Better Path in my letters, describing it. It’s a clinic that does its best to meet the needs of the Plain community—mental and physical.”
“And the problem you deal with—is it mental or physical?”
“It’s sort of both. Alcohol is habit-forming both physically and psychologically. I’m sure Paul can explain it better.”
“But you knew it was wrong when you began.”
“I didn’t get into it or out of it because it was wrong. Black-and-white reasoning may work for you, but it doesn’t for me. Drinking brought relief, but I had to get out because the escape turned into a nightmare.”
“So what happens when you want relief again?”
“I’ll take a vacation.”
Michael set his sandwich on his plate. “Be serious, Aaron.”
“I hit bottom, Daed. And while I was there, I found God. There’s power between Him and me, and I rely on that. Even so, I can’t promise I’ll never mess up. I can assure you that if I do, I won’t waste any time getting help.”
“I’m supposed to trust that’s enough?”
“No. I can’t live up to your expectations. But you’re supposed to trust that God is enough. That no matter what else happens, He’s sufficient to forgive and strengthen.”
“I guess when we go to talk to Paul, I’ll be blamed for lots of stuff.”
“That’s not what we do here.” Aaron grabbed a potato chip from his mother’s plate and munched on it. “Not long after I began rehab, I saw myself through God’s eyes, or at least a little of how He sees me, and the power of His love compared with the ugliness of who I’d become changed me. Then I saw what I’d done to you and Mamm through your eyes, and I came home to try to make amends. That’s what Paul will do—help you see me from a different perspective than your usual disappointment and anger.”
“I don’t—” Michael’s growl was interrupted when Paul came to the table.
“Would you rather meet out here or in my office?” Paul asked. “It won’t be long—maybe fifteen, thirty minutes.”
Everyone looked to Michael for an answer, but he said nothing.
Sylvia stood. “Either way, this chat needs to be between Aaron and his parents.”
“She’s right.” Michael stood. “In your office.”
Sylvia glanced at Aaron, who gave her a slight smile before the four of them left.
Michael was talking about what had brought Aaron here. That was good. She wanted to be glad only for Aaron’s sake, but somehow whatever mattered to him mattered to her too.
Her interest didn’t stop at the normal kindness extended from one human to another. She cared for him. She liked who he was and who he’d chosen to be.
And it had her rattled.
Twenty-Five
Cara sat on the couch reading The Hiding Place. It had been her constant companion for days, and whenever she had a few minutes, she read more of it. She’d never loved a book this much. She read and prayed and then read some more. This Co
rrie ten Boom had a handle on how to walk in forgiveness, and Cara had benefitted from reading her story.
“Hey, Mom.” Lori ran into the living room and held out the familiar gray blue hardback of Shoo-Fly Girl. “Time for you to read to me! We’re almost to the end of the book.”
“Yeah, for the umpteenth time this summer.”
“Please finish it for me again.”
Cara set her book to the side and tapped her own cheek. Lori kissed her several times before Cara engulfed her daughter in a hug. “Love you, Lorabean.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Lori snuggled against her. The heat didn’t matter. Cara had her daughter in her arms, and she’d never mind that, no matter how high the mid-July temperatures soared. Per her daughter’s request, they had on matching dresses. Better Days lay on the wood floor, panting.
Later in the day customers would begin arriving at Ada’s House, but for now dinner, which for the Amish was the largest meal of the day, regardless of when it was served, was done. The kitchen was clean, and all sorts of baked goods and handmade items were ready to be sold. Since Trevor wasn’t here to take her to see Sylvia, she’d studied the languages on her own that day. At the thought of how well she was learning of late, joy bubbled up inside her.
She opened the book Ada had given Lori and continued reading Shoo-Fly Girl aloud. At the end of the last chapter, she bent her head to kiss her daughter’s forehead and discovered that Lori had twisted the strings of their prayer Kapps together.
Cara looked up and was surprised to see Ephraim standing there, quietly watching them. Better Days stood next to him, nudging his hand for attention. Cara gently bumped Lori’s shoulder, getting her to look up.
“ ’From!” Lori tried to run to him, but their intertwined prayer Kapp strings stopped her.
“Ow!” Cara yelped and quickly unraveled them.
The moment Lori was loose, she ran to Ephraim. He picked her up and hugged her.
Cara rubbed her scalp where the head covering had been attached to strands of her hair with a straight pin. Those pins kept the Kapp on no matter the work or the weather, but ouch.
Lori clasped her arms tight around Ephraim’s neck and kissed his cheek before hopping down.
Ephraim embraced Cara and took in a deep breath. “My favorite part of the week.”
“Tuesdays?” Lori asked.
“No.” He touched her on the nose. “Anytime I’m with my two favorite people.”
“What are you doing here in the middle of the week?” Cara asked.
“My sister called me at the shop about an hour ago. Said she had news she wanted to tell both of us and asked if I’d come. So I dropped everything and had Robbie drive me.”
Cara slid her hand into his. “Would you like some lemonade while we wait for Deborah?”
“Anything cool in this heat would be great.”
Cara led him through the hallway.
Ephraim held Lori’s hand too. “You don’t seem very surprised that Deborah has news for us.”
Cara shrugged. “Nope.”
“Is it what I think it is?”
“You can’t ask me that.”
“Sure I can. Listen carefully. Is it what I think it is?”
She chuckled, opening the swinging door to the kitchen without answering his question.
Ada stood at an ironing board, carefully easing a flat iron over a prayer Kapp. “Hi, Ephraim. This is a nice surprise.”
“I need to show up unexpectedly more often,” he said, smiling.
“You do that.” Cara grabbed a glass for him from a cabinet. “Of course, you know that after a couple of times it won’t be unexpected anymore.” She poured a glass of lemonade and gave it to him.
“Hello?” Deborah called from the front door.
Ada put the iron facedown on the stove. “In the kitchen.”
Deborah and Jonathan entered, hand in hand and glowing. “We have news to share.” Deborah stared at Jonathan, radiating love. “Jonathan has asked me to marry him.”
“And she said yes,” Jonathan added.
Chatter filled the room as hugs were exchanged. Then Deborah paused in front of her brother.
“Ya,” Ephraim whispered. “Totally, one hundred percent.”
Deborah hugged him.
Cara would have to learn the history behind that conversation later.
“But that’s not all,” Deborah said to the room at large. “Ada, I know you wanted us to move in here, but he’s buying us a house.”
“As long as you’re happy, Deborah.”
Cara knew Ada’s words were true, but she also had to be disappointed. Cara would move to Dry Lake once she and Ephraim married, and now Deborah was moving. But Ada adapted to the changes as a mother would, even though neither Cara nor Deborah was her daughter. Whatever aches Ada felt didn’t match the joy of seeing her “children” happy.
“Do you want to see it?” Deborah asked.
Ada moved the iron to the cooling shelf on the back of the stove. “Absolutely. Is there time to get there and back before we open for business tonight?”
Jonathan rubbed his chin. “Hmm. I’m not sure. I say we give it a try and see.”
Ada moved directly in front of her nephew. “What’s this smirk on your face?”
“We’re buying the house next door.”
Ada’s eyes grew large. “What?”
He leaned against the countertop. “You two are in business together here, so it made sense. But if you prefer, I suppose I could buy a place in Dry Lake.”
Ada pushed his shoulder. “Don’t you dare.” She hugged him. “Which one is it?”
Deborah took Ada by the hand and headed for the front door with the rest of the group following.
Cara couldn’t help but think about what God had given Ada through the love between her and Deborah. Ada had lost her husband more than a decade ago, and her only child had left last year, cutting her off from him. When Deborah and Jonathan had children, Ada would be able to live out her days as if she were their grandmother.
The beauty of it awed her. Heartache stomped its way into everyone’s life, but it seemed that love never stopped planting seeds or harvesting crops.
And forgiveness. The thought came to her as if it wasn’t her own. But it made sense that forgiveness had to be planted in the midst of hurt. Since Trevor had given her The Hiding Place, she’d been praying almost constantly about forgiving him. If Corrie ten Boom could forgive the Nazi soldiers and prison guards who had so severely mistreated her and her sister during the Holocaust, surely Cara could manage to forgive Trevor.
“Look!” Deborah pointed to the house across the empty lot to the right.
Ada’s eyes grew large. “You wouldn’t tease an old woman.”
“I just might,” Jonathan said, “if I saw one.”
“It gets better.” Deborah tugged at Ada’s hand, and they all headed down the sidewalk toward the house. “It seems my husband-to-be has bought half of the land we’ve been renting for the corn maze, picnic tables, and hayrides.”
“I had no idea you were rich,” Ada teased.
Jonathan laughed. “Far from it. But I’ve been pinching pennies ever since I finished school and started working full time. With the money I had, I made a down payment and signed a contract for a small mortgage. And it was all worth it when I saw the look on Deborah’s face.”
Deborah held open the door, motioning for everyone to walk through. The conversations echoing through the house felt warm and rich to Cara’s mind and soul. She held Ephraim’s hand as they made the tour, soaking in being part of a family. Lori ran up and down the steps half a dozen times.
The property even had an outbuilding that Jonathan could convert into a smithy shop. A day or two a week he’d still put all his blacksmith equipment in his work wagon and travel to Amish farms to shoe horses, but he’d work out of this shop the rest of the time.
After walking through the house, talking about possibilities, hopes
of babies, and an extension of space to Ada’s House, they started the trek back.
While going up the front walk at Ada’s, Cara spotted Trevor sitting on the porch steps. A small box sat beside him. The sight of him didn’t bring up hurtful images and stored resentment nearly as much as it had a few weeks earlier.
“Lori,” Cara whispered, “go tell Trevor about Deborah’s good news.”
Lori stared up at her mom before looking to Ephraim.
“I think that’s a good idea,” he said.
Lori shrugged. “If you say so.” She ran ahead. “Hey, Trevor, guess what?”
A rare but warm smile crossed his face. “Hmm … It’s cold in Antarctica?”
“No, silly. Deborah’s gonna marry Jonathan and live right there.” She pointed.
The smile on Trevor’s face broadened. Lori had talked to him the way she did to everyone else. He looked at the newly engaged couple. “Congratulations.”
Ada, Deborah, and Jonathan chatted with him briefly before going inside. Lori went in with Deborah, prattling the whole time about having a sleepover at Deborah’s house one day.
“Trevor,”—Cara motioned toward the house—“care for some lemonade?”
“Not right now. I brought you something.”
“You don’t need to keep doing that. Besides, I haven’t finished the book you already brought me. It’s really good, though.”
He picked up the open corrugated box and held it out to her.
Ephraim leaned in. “Looks interesting.”
Cara took the box from Trevor, walked inside, and set it on a side table. Familiar frames filled with family photos startled her. “Where did you get these?”
“I went to your old apartment building and talked to the manager. He looked up which place had been yours, and he knew who’d rummaged through your stuff before he threw it out.”
She studied the images, glad to have them again in her hands, but at what cost? “You shouldn’t have.”
“It’s not that big a deal,” Trevor assured her. “New York’s less than five hours from here.”
She couldn’t believe he’d done this for her, but fear threatened to seep out from under locked doors. She looked at more of the pictures. “Who had these?”
The Harvest of Grace Page 20
