by Nancy Mehl
I burst out laughing. “Yes, lots in fact.” I briefly told her about my stint at Betty’s.
Cora clapped her hands together. “How wonderful.” She reached over and grabbed my hand. “It was meant to be, Lizzie. Isn’t God good?”
I nodded dumbly, not knowing what else to say. So God had brought me to Kingdom to be a waitress? Great. That sounded about right.
Then, realizing that Charity and I weren’t going to be thrown out into the snowstorm, I instantly felt ashamed of myself.
“Thank you, Cora. I’ll gladly accept your offer. You have my gratitude.”
She smiled. “And you have mine. I know we’ll become great friends. And it’s actually fun workin’ here. There are still residents in Kingdom who refuse to darken my door . . .” She hesitated a moment. “Like your father,” she said finally. “But for the most part, I’ve been accepted by the entire town. Even those who are a little more strict in their beliefs.”
My mother sighed, looking around the charming, cozy restaurant. “This is the first time I have been inside in all these years. Not quite the den of iniquity my husband made it out to be.”
Cora nodded. “Just families comin’ in to eat. I wish Matthew would give us a chance. He might actually enjoy gatherin’ together with his neighbors.”
My first thought was to ask Cora if she’d ever actually met my father, but I let it go. He certainly wasn’t the “gathering together with his neighbors” type. Not unless someone was being burned at the stake.
“I hope he will do that someday, Cora,” Mother said. “But this is not a good time for him. Or for our church.”
Cora raised one eyebrow. “I have to say I’m hopin’ these changes will actually bring us closer to God. To who God really is.”
Mother shook her head. “I am afraid my husband does not see it that way. He believes the influence of the world will destroy us—that those who are promoting change will ruin Kingdom from the inside out.”
“And what do you believe, Anna?” Cora asked.
Mother’s eyelids fluttered at the question. She wasn’t used to being asked her opinion. Was she already regretting her honesty with me earlier? Would she speak her mind in front of Cora?
Mother stared down at the table, running her fingers, reddened by work and weather, along the grain pattern in the wood. “It is my job to support my husband in whatever he does,” she said softly. “But . . .”
She was silent for a moment, while Cora and I waited for her to continue. When she spoke, her voice trembled with emotion. “I lost my daughter and my granddaughter because of my husband’s beliefs.” She looked up, her eyes shiny with tears. “I must confess that I cannot believe that was God’s will. I have been praying . . .” She gave me a tremulous smile. “I have been asking God for a sign that it isn’t too late to have Elizabeth Lynn and Charity back in my life, and now they are here.” She shook her head. “I must believe this is God’s answer. That He has heard me.”
She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. Then she put her hands down and glanced up at the clock on the wall. A look of panic crossed her face, and she quickly rose to her feet. “Matthew will be furious with me if I do not get home and make his dinner.” She rested her small fingers on Cora’s shoulder. “Thank you, my dear friend, for being an answer to prayer. I will never forget your kindness.”
She looked at me, a single tear running slowly down her cheek. “I will find some things from the house to bring to you. Warm blankets, sheets, towels, whatever you might need.” She straightened up to her entire five-foot height, her back ramrod straight, her expression determined. “I cannot come back on Monday because I have promised to work on a quilt with some of the ladies in the church, but I will return on Tuesday, Lizzie, no matter what your father says. And I will spend time with you and my granddaughter. In fact, we will have lunch together in this wonderful place. That is, if you will have me, Cora.”
Cora’s smile almost split her face in two. “I would be honored, Anna. And since your daughter now works for me, all meals for her family are on me.”
My mother looked puzzled.
“‘On me’ means your meals are free,” I explained.
Mother looked aghast. “Oh no. I could not—”
“Now, Anna,” Cora said, standing up and facing her, “your daughter will earn every meal she and Charity eat, as well as yours. Trust me.”
Mother considered this. “I will accept,” she said with hesitation. “You have my thanks. I do not have many funds of my own and know that asking my husband for money to spend here would certainly bring a rebuke.”
A sense of guilt swept through me when Mother spoke of money. I still hadn’t apologized for taking what she’d managed to scrape together when I left. I couldn’t do it now, with Cora listening, but I planned to apologize the first chance I got.
Mother came over and kissed me on the cheek. Then she hugged Charity.
“Bye, Grandma,” Charity said. “Can you bring more butter cookies when you come back?”
Mother laughed. “Yes, I will do that.” She smiled at all of us. “I was so distraught when I first arrived, and I feel so much better now. God’s hand is evident, and I will thank Him for His provision tonight in my prayers. May He bless you all.”
She hurried toward the front door, but the wind made it hard for her to pull it open. A man I didn’t know rose from his table and held the door for her, shutting it after she was safely on the sidewalk.
“I hate to see her drive that buggy all the way home in this weather,” I said to Cora.
“She’ll be fine, child. Besides, there’s no other way for her to reach her destination. You know she won’t accept a ride in your car or mine. Trust me, I’ve offered transportation many times to some of these folks when the weather was bad. People like your parents just won’t take it.”
“So one of those cars outside is yours?”
She nodded. “Yep, that canary yellow job. Bought it from a guy in Washington about a year ago. And don’t think there weren’t some terse statements from folks in the church when I drove it home.”
“Cora, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Sure, honey. You can ask me anything.”
“Do . . . do you still believe in God?”
She chuckled. “Do you think buyin’ a yellow car means I don’t love God anymore?”
“No, of course not. But you’re obviously living your life outside the boundaries of the church.”
She smiled kindly. “Lizzie, I didn’t lose God when I quit livin’ the way a group of men told me to. God is bigger than that. I follow Him now without any help from the elders, and I’ve never been happier.”
“Really?”
“Darlin’, I may not walk into that building at the end of the block on Sundays, but I found out that God is much larger and more gracious than most folks give Him credit for.” She frowned at me. “Look, people can act however they want; I don’t make that my business. But I don’t intend to allow anyone except the Holy Spirit to tell me how to run my life. I’ve discovered that God loves me just the way I am. And He doesn’t care if I drive a car or ride in a buggy. He cares about my heart. You know, John the Baptist wore camel skins. Maybe I oughta serve folks locusts and wild honey while I’m prancin’ around in animal skins. Think that would generate some interest from the elders?” She guffawed like she’d just said the funniest thing in the world.
Charity giggled along with her, although I was certain she had no idea what she was laughing about.
Cora’s jovial expression gradually turned more serious. “Honey, one of these days you’ll figure out that your heavenly Father isn’t much like your earthly father. I’m sorry to say somethin’ harsh about your daddy, but it’s just the plain truth. God loves you, and He’s not judgin’ you.” She reached over and patted my arm. “In fact, I like to think God carries around our pictures in His wallet and shows them to the angels every so often. ‘Why, look at my Lizzie,’
He says to them. ‘Isn’t she the most wonderful daughter any father could ever have?’”
I shook my head. “I doubt that’s what He’d say about me.”
Cora stood to her feet. “And that’s where the problem is, isn’t it?” she asked softly. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna pray that one of these days you’ll understand how powerful the love of a good Father really is.”
I didn’t answer her, but her words struck something raw in my heart. More than anything I wanted to believe that God still loved me, but I’d done many wrong things and spoken rebelliously to Him more than once. I had no faith that He would listen to me even if I decided to talk to Him again.
“God is a righteous God, Elizabeth Lynn. He can’t hear the voices of sinners.”
“Looks like someone’s gettin’ sleepy,” Cora said. Sure enough, Charity’s eyelids were drooping, though she was fighting the approach of bedtime for all she was worth. I, for one, couldn’t wait to close my eyes.
“Let me help you clean up,” I said. The last of Cora’s customers had gone, but several tables still held dirty dishes.
“Nonsense,” she huffed. “You two are goin’ to bed. Tomorrow is Sunday and the restaurant is closed, so sleep late. We’ll do some work upstairs after a good night’s rest. You’ve both had a long day.”
I wanted to argue with her, but my tired body won out over my good intentions. “I appreciate everything you’re doing for us, Cora. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “You’d better wait until the Friday-night dinner rush is over. You may not feel the same way.”
I got up and helped my sleepy daughter out of her chair. “If you had people lined up for a mile, waiting to get in, I’d still feel very fortunate.”
“Oh, Lizzie,” Cora said, putting her arm around my shoulders, “I’m only a vessel. God sent you here for a good reason. And before you leave this place, you’ll know why. I’m just honored to be a part of it.”
Charity and I followed her upstairs. My mind kept playing her words over and over. “God sent you here for a reason. And before you leave this place, you’ll know why.” Was it possible God really hadn’t deserted me? Had He actually led me to Kingdom? I prayed silently as we mounted the stairs to our new home. Please, God. If you’re listening, and if you care anything about me at all, please help me to find my way. I’m not asking just for me. I’m asking for Charity too.
For the first time in years, a small flame of hope ignited deep within my heart. But with it came a warning. Hoping for good things had brought only pain in my life. Would the path I was on lead to even more disappointment?
CHAPTER / 7
I woke up Sunday morning when something soft brushed my cheek. My eyelids felt as if they weighed a pound each. I started to drift off again when I heard my daughter’s voice.
“Mama, we’re in a very strange place.”
That got my attention, and I struggled to sit up. Charity leaned over the edge of my bed. She touched my cheek again.
“Are you up yet, Mama?”
“I am now,” I said with a smile. “Why don’t you change your clothes and let me try to wake up a bit more?”
She scooted out of the room while I attempted to find the willpower to put my feet on the floor. The bed Cora had prepared for me was so comfortable I didn’t want to leave it.
The four rooms above the restaurant were in surprisingly good shape. Cora had explained that the building had been a hotel when Mason City was in its prime. And before Cora put in a restaurant, it had been used to store farm equipment and horse supplies. Avery Menninger, who ran the Saddle and Tack, purchased it and allowed other residents to use it for storage.
When Cora presented him with the idea of starting a restaurant, he moved his and everyone else’s things out. Avery, who’d never been much of a fan of my father or his friends, bravely went against the wishes of the church elders. Not long after Cora had stood in our kitchen, asking my father for his blessing, I overheard Avery tell James Hostettler, a local farmer, that it gave him a great deal of satisfaction to put a “burr under Elder Engel’s saddle.”
Avery, James, and several other men in Kingdom repaired, painted, and installed kitchen equipment for Cora. The rooms upstairs had also been cleaned up, but that was ten years ago. Now the wood floors needed to be polished, and the walls would certainly benefit from some fresh paint. But all in all, the entire area looked to be in better shape than I’d hoped for.
Last night, Cora pulled out the cot she’d stored in a closet and put fresh sheets on both it and the bed. After showing Charity and me around, she declared, “I only need one storeroom. That will not only give you and Charity your own bedrooms, it will also provide you with a living room. The kitchen downstairs is yours, as is the main bathroom. And there’s a shower in the basement along with another small bathroom. Right now our electricity is run by a good-sized generator, but we got word that the electric company will reach Kingdom in the spring. Anyone who wants electricity can have it. I intend to be the first in line.”
I was surprised that the electric company even knew Kingdom existed. Cora didn’t elaborate, but I was fairly sure she was behind the move of modern technology to the small Mennonite town.
As I pushed myself out of bed, I couldn’t help but think about Cora’s incredible offer. Our own bedrooms, a living room, a fully stocked kitchen, and an indoor toilet. What else did we need?
Coming to Kingdom had been a journey made out of fear, yet I was beginning to think it might work out on a long-term basis. Reba and her cohorts would never find me in Kingdom, nor would the man who had stalked us in Kansas City. Charity and I were finally safe.
I sat on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands. I’d have to give the situation some time to see how it worked out, but at that moment I didn’t want to think about what might happen tomorrow. At least for now we were out of harm’s way, and that felt wonderful. Today, Kansas City felt a million miles away.
I checked my watch. It was just now nine o’clock. As if on cue, the big bell in the church began to ring. Most of Kingdom’s faithful would be finding their seats in the building’s large meeting room. Although some churches would call that room their sanctuary, the term had been rejected by the elders as too worldly. As far as I was concerned, it was a good choice, since under the direction of my father, the church had never felt like a safe haven anyway.
Cora, who lived in a small one-bedroom house a couple of blocks from the restaurant, planned to meet us at the café sometime around noon. That gave me time to unpack and poke around a bit. Last night I’d brought our suitcases in from the car and tossed them on the floor, too tired to unpack. Cora had asked me to pull the car around back and park it in an empty shed so it wouldn’t take up space in front of the café. It had taken several attempts to get it started. After the engine finally turned over, it belched and wheezed all the way to what I fear might end up being its final resting place.
I unzipped our suitcases so Charity and I could begin to sort our things and find a place to put them. There was a small dresser in the room I’d slept in, so we put what we could in it. I was delighted to find quite a few hangers in the closet, since I hadn’t thought to bring any. They’d probably been left behind by Cora’s sister. I wondered what would happen if she decided to come for another visit. Would we have to leave? I gazed around the apartment, reminding myself that the arrangement could be temporary. Maybe it wouldn’t pay to get too comfortable.
Charity and I gathered our clean clothes and headed downstairs. A look out the window revealed several inches of snow on the ground. Although the wind still gusted, the sky was clear. There was absolutely nothing moving outside. The little town looked deserted. However, the deep ruts on the streets made it clear that many members of Kingdom’s Mennonite church had climbed into their buggies and made the frigid trip to Sunday meeting.
Charity and I climbed down a narrow set of stairs that
could only be accessed through the kitchen. They led us to the basement, where a metal shower stall had been installed in one corner. Charity and I took turns showering. It took a while for the water to heat up, so it was challenging at first. But all in all, the experience wasn’t too bad. When I was a child in Kingdom, bathing meant waiting for water to be heated up on the stove before it was poured into a large tub in the middle of the kitchen floor. Most of my friends took baths only once a week, but my mother made me bathe twice a week. Discovering showers after I got to Kansas City was a revelation and a joy.
After washing, we went upstairs for breakfast. A previous tour of the kitchen had availed me of all the pertinent information I needed to whip up a meal. Within thirty minutes Charity and I were eating scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. I brewed coffee for me and poured milk for my daughter.
“I never had breakfast in a restaurant, Mama,” Charity said. “But I like it.”
I smiled at her. “I like it too, honey.”
She turned her head sideways and gazed at me with a puzzled look. “Do we live here now?”
I stuck a forkful of eggs in my mouth to give me a moment to frame an answer. Then I swallowed and put my fork down. “I don’t know, Cherry Bear. We’ll probably stay here for now. How do you feel about that?”
She pondered my question for a few seconds before answering. “Well . . .” she said finally, drawing out the word. “I like Grandma very much, even though I don’t like her potty. Not one little bit.” She scrunched up her face to show her displeasure. Then she relaxed her expression into something more amenable. “But I do like her butter cookies. She hugs me too hard, but that’s okay.” She took a deep breath as she considered the rest of her answer. “I’m not sure about the funny way some people dress here,” she said, “but I love all the horses. And I like this restaurant—and Miss Cora. She’s a really nice lady. And I really, really, really like our rooms upstairs.”
