The Hope of Refuge Page 31

  “It still makes me mad. It’d be okay with me if they shunned both Rueben and his wife forever.”

  “And it’s harder to take since it’s Anna Mary’s parents, no?”

  Cara nodded. “Too hard sometimes.”

  “You remind me so much of your mother. You’ve helped me and Deborah survive the worst thing imaginable. I couldn’t have handled the last couple of months of bearing what Mahlon’s done without looking at what God brought out of your heartache. And that awful imaginary whip you keep cracking to make me and Deborah stay focused on building a business. I’m actually glad you’ve been a jaded little taskmaster.”

  Cara’s eyes stung with tears as she looked at one of her mother’s letters. “Sometimes I almost feel whole again, like I’ve found answers that make sense out of some of my crazy life. At other times I feel so confused, bitter, and lost I can’t stand myself.” She dropped the letter onto the table. “I keep going over every piece of writing as if trying to verify that life’s worth it.”

  She looked at her mother’s closed Bible. Of all the items her dad had sent that she’d read and reread, she hadn’t yet opened that book. She’d stolen a few minutes with Ephraim’s or Ada’s but not her mom’s. It always gave her an eerie feeling, as if it contained more of her mother’s heart than her letters.

  Ada slid her hand over Cara’s. “Only God can redeem life and make it worthwhile. Without His worth covering us and being in us, man’s history carries only faded hopes and broken dreams.” She picked up the Bible from the table and handed it to Cara. “He can redeem your past and all the pain that awaits in the future.”

  Cara held the Bible between her two hands and let it fall open. The pages fluttered, and a yellow piece of paper caught her attention. She laid the book on the table and looked through it. After a few moments she found the paper and pulled it out. Unfolding it, she immediately recognized her mother’s handwriting.

  I will be your Father, and you will be my sons and daughters.

  The words flooded her heart.

  Choking back tears, she stood. Her heart pumped against her chest as thoughts and understanding pounded against her. “He’s real.” The room seemed to be shrinking, and she felt desperate for time alone. “I need to go for a walk. You’ll stay with Lori?”

  “Sure I will.”

  She hurried out the back door. Mist fell from the sky as she walked as fast as she could. Pain flooded her heart as if she were reliving every loss she’d ever sustained. Fragments of her past ripped at her, begging for answers. But there were none. There was only a dark hole in her soul, draining her of strength. The rain fell harder as she followed the narrow trail to the top of the mountain.

  Looking out over the valley below, she clenched her fists. “Why?” she screamed into the rain. “I want to know why!” Her tears mingled with the rain, but no answer returned to her.

  Thoughts of being inside Ephraim’s barn, hungry and miserable as she sought refuge, filled her view more than the rain-drenched sky. She’d landed there out of desperation. The long journey began because she had pieces of memories and her mother had hidden a message inside her diary. But most of all, she’d landed there because something inside her, something beyond herself, had led her.

  As if watching a movie in her mind’s eye, she saw Ephraim standing at the door of the barn, holding out his hand. He didn’t offer answers to all she wanted to know, but he gave her a way to a better life. He offered help and strength and himself, as a shield of sorts—but not the kind of protection she tried to give Lori, where the sharpness of reality was hidden until she was older. The shield didn’t hide reality or pain; it simply absorbed the impact of each blow before it made its way to her.

  Suddenly he changed, and a man she didn’t recognize held his hand out to her. He was dressed even more oddly than the Amish, with darker skin, hair, and eyes. But most of all he had compassion for her and a love so deep she couldn’t begin to understand it.

  It had to be Jesus. As He looked at her, it seemed she was no longer the woman she thought herself to be. It was as if she was part of something bigger, and yet she knew she was nothing. She felt fully accepted, like a member of the family, but only because He’d opened the door—similar to the way Ephraim had.

  Her earlier question of why didn’t matter. The only question that mattered now was what she would choose from this point forward.

  She sank to her knees.

  With a book open and a mug of coffee in hand, Ephraim sat on his couch, listening to the rain.

  He’d spent thousands of quiet evenings by himself since building this house nine years ago. Before Cara none of those times had been lonely. Well… maybe a little. But he’d never been lonely for someone in particular.

  Then Cara showed up, and without her knowledge she passed on to him a long and healthy life of true loneliness.

  The lonesomeness tempted him to…

  He stopped himself cold, growled softly, and went to the kitchen. Lightning flashed across the sky, immediately followed by a loud boom of thunder. He thought he heard a phone ring. Setting his mug on the table, he cocked his head, listening. He did hear a phone ring. Three. Four. Five rings. Then silence.

  Inside his dark home he waited. The phone rang again. He grabbed his black felt hat and flew out the door. Five rings, a pause, and then more rings meant it wasn’t a business call or a wrong number. It was someone trying to reach him. He bolted across the soaked field and driveway. Fumbling through the dark, he grabbed the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Ephraim.” Ada’s voice held concern. “I’m in a little fix.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Cara went for a walk, but then the skies opened up. She’s been gone over two hours. The creeks flooded. I’m watching Lori, and Deborah’s not here, so I’m not sure what to do.”

  “I’ll hire a driver and be there as soon as I can. Whatever you do, don’t leave Lori, and don’t try to cross that creek with her in tow.”

  Ephraim called half a dozen drivers before finding Bill at home. He arrived within ten minutes. In another fifteen Ephraim was climbing out of the car at Ada’s house. She opened the door for him.

  “Has she returned?” Ephraim had to yell to be heard over the pouring rain.

  Ada motioned him in, leaving the door open for Bill to follow. “No. She was pretty upset when she left here.”

  “Why?”

  “We were talking, and she had her mother’s Bible in hand, the one her dad mailed to her. She found a note in it. I think she was shaking when she looked at me and said, ‘He’s real.’ Then she bolted.”

  Excitement poured into him, making his head spin for a moment. But if learning she had relatives in Dry Lake was stressful, realizing God was real had to be hundreds of times more emotional. “Where was she headed?”

  “I don’t know, but she went through the pasture where that winding creek is sure to catch her. As a city girl, will she understand how dangerous the currents get in weather like this?”

  Ephraim knew where she’d gone, but Ada’s question worried him. “I’ll take your horse.”

  “You want help?” Bill asked.

  “No. We only have one horse, and it’s too dangerous on foot. I’ll find her.” He hurried down the steps.

  “Ephraim,” Ada hollered through the pouring rain. He stopped. She motioned to him and then disappeared back inside. When he reached her door, she passed him a quilt and a two-way radio. “Let me know the minute you find her. If I don’t hear from you within an hour, I’ll call the police.”

  Ephraim spoke what he prayed would be true. “You’ll hear from me.”

  Riding bareback, he spurred the horse along the muddy trail. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the rain slowed. When he came to the creek, he found it had flooded its banks and spanned into the lowlands of the pasture. As he carefully guided the horse through the shallowest area, he tried to block thoughts of Cara struggling to cross and being swept downstream. Soon t
he horse was on the other side. “Cara!” He cupped his hands around his mouth and called to her.

  He wondered how she felt about her discovery. The problem with believing was it changed everything inside a person without altering the past. And sometimes it didn’t change the present either—only the person’s heart.

  Even under the canopy of trees, large scattered drops pelted him. He pulled his felt hat down tighter and kept the horse moving forward along the slippery trail. “Cara!” he called against the rain, but his voice didn’t carry far.

  Through a clearing he spotted the old barn she loved so much. Hoping he’d find her safe, he felt peace warm him. When he came within a hundred feet of the barn, a flash of lightning illuminated the fields briefly but he didn’t see any sign of her. He spurred the horse onward. “Cara!”

  The barn door opened. She stood in the entryway with dripping wet hair and clothes. He urged the horse toward the barn. She stepped back, giving the animal room to enter the rugged structure. He tugged on the reins and came to a halt.

  When she looked up at him, hope and longing tempted him to say things he knew he shouldn’t.

  “He’s real.” Her tone sounded both certain and surprised.

  Too emotional to speak, he pointed to a wooden cattle gate behind her, and then he held out his hand. With the rain pouring and the creek rising, they needed to get to the valley and cross over before the currents grew too strong, or they could end up stranded on this side for the next day or two. She climbed up several rungs of craggy gate and took his hand. He pulled her onto the horse behind him.

  He passed her the blanket and waited while she draped it around her. He shifted so he could look into her eyes.

  Using the blanket she wiped rain off her face. “Just for a second I saw a man. He… He died so that no one would be separated from Him the way I was from my family.” In spite of her proclamation, confusion was reflected in her eyes.

  Ephraim placed his hat on her head and brushed one finger down her cheek, feeling more connected to her than to his own self He squared himself on the horse. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek on his back. He pulled the two-way radio out of his pocket. “Ada.”

  “I’m here. Have you found her?”

  “Yes. We’re heading back.”

  He slid the two-way into his pocket. With one hand he guided the horse, and with the other he kept his hand on hers, glad the darkness and rain hid the tears that stung his eyes.

  She was safe.

  And she believed.

  The creek water swirled higher and faster when he crossed the second time, but soon they were in Ada’s barn, and he was helping Cara off the horse. She passed his hat back to him. The place smelled of fresh hay. Bundled in the wet quilt, Cara leaned against a stall, watching him wipe the horse down with an old towel.

  He tossed extra oats into the horse’s trough. “I…just want you to know you shouldn’t feel the need to be Amish.” He tossed hay into the stall and closed the gate. “You’re free to go wherever. Join wherever.”

  “Thank you, ’From. For everything.”

  He wrapped her in his arms, feeling her tremble even through the blanket. “You scared me.” He propped his cheek against her head, and they stood, watching the rain.

  Deborah put the finishing touches of frosting on the last cake, hoping she and Ada had enough goodies for tonight. It seemed the perfect way to spend Labor Day—baking and preparing for company. Ada was out front, tending to her flower garden, and Cara had gone for a long walk with Lori. All of them giving Deborah a few minutes alone before she had to greet a houseful of people—friends, family, and near strangers who knew about Mahlon running out on her.

  Even though longing for him still held her prisoner some days, she’d grown weary of being embarrassed over what he’d done to her. She talked to Ada about the shame they both carried, and they admitted to only going out when necessary. So they decided to have an open house, welcoming Amish from both districts—Dry Lake and Hope Crossing.

  Cara was right; it wasn’t Deborah’s or Ada’s fault that Mahlon hadn’t cherished them or the Old Order lifestyle.

  The word cherished made her thoughts turn to Ephraim. Since the church leaders had lifted the ban from him, he’d probably come tonight too—if for no other reason than to catch a glimpse of Cara. It wasn’t always easy, but Deborah said nothing to either of them about the other. They’d asked that of her, and she’d stuck to it. But she didn’t need a conversation with Ephraim to know he was in love, and Cara didn’t seem to know it.

  The church leaders had insisted Ephraim return to Dry Lake in mid-June, and it was now early September, yet he’d already returned to the status of being a member in good standing. Deborah agreed with the bishops point on the matter—it’d be hypocrisy to continue punishing Ephraim for handling Cara’s situation wrong when all of them had been wrong concerning her in one way or another. Even though Ephraim had permission to see Cara, he’d yet to do so. He didn’t want to influence her decision of whether to choose the Old Ways or not, so he kept his distance. But he’d told Deborah it drove him crazy.

  Thankfully, Daed’s health was still improving, so he had been some real help to Ephraim after Mahlon left without notice. That took some weight off Ephraim and gave Daed some of his self-respect back. With business booming like it was, Ephraim was looking to hire Amish men outside of Dry Lake.

  When Deborah heard a horse and buggy stop near the house, she glanced at the clock. Whoever had just arrived had come much earlier than expected. She looked through the window and saw Lena heading for the house. Her beautiful cousin never seemed bothered by the blue birthmark across her cheek. Deborah was slowly and painfully adjusting to the idea of being alone, but she couldn’t imagine what Lena felt—twenty-three years old and had never been asked out. Warmth wrapped around Deborah as she finally grasped what Lena always said—it’s not about what’s on her face that makes people whisper or the men avoid her. It’s about what’s in their own hearts.

  Mahlon left because of his heart, and Deborah was ready to admit she’d never really known him. But now, nearly three months later, she knew a time would come when she’d be grateful to be free of him. But her love for Ada grew with each passing week.

  The back door opened, and Lena stepped inside. “Oh my, it smells good in here.” She held the door open, and Jonathan soon appeared, carrying a keg on his shoulder.

  He set the barrel on the floor. “Hey, Little Debbie. I made a batch of the good stuff. Thought you might want a strong drink to get you through the next few hours.”

  It seemed odd that he understood tonight wouldn’t be easy for her. “How strong?”

  “Extra lemons, less sugar.”

  She puckered her lips and made a smacking sound. “Jonathan’s famous lemonade gone sourer just for me.”

  He dipped his finger in the almost empty bowl of frosting and placed it in his mouth. “Man, I miss you and Ada being right up the street from me.”

  “Ya, but we make a profit now.”

  Lena laughed. “You say he kept eating the profits?”

  “Hello?” Anna Mary’s voice echoed from the back steps.

  “In here.” Deborah stepped to the doorway and saw Rachel, Linda, Nancy, Lydia, Frieda, and Esther. They were all together again, and it’d never felt this good.

  “Hi.” Anna Mary hugged her. “We rode with Jonathan, but we got off the wagon out front and talked with Ada for a bit.”

  “We all came early to help you and Ada get ready,” Rachel said.

  Anna Mary looked around the room conspiratorially “And to make sure we’re in place early to scope out any single men who come from Hope Crossing.”

  The girls laughed, but Deborah knew it couldn’t have been easy for Anna Mary to come tonight either. Cara lived here, and if Ephraim showed up, which he was likely to do, it’d be tough on Anna Mary. Yet here she stood.

  Strength seeped into every part of Deborah, and she passed a ladle to
Jonathan. He opened the lid to the keg while Deborah grabbed a stack of plastic cups and passed one to each girl.

  Deborah set a bowl of ice on the table. “So, Jonathan, you brought eight girls with you, four of which are totally single, and it sounds like not a one of them is interested in someone from Dry Lake.”

  “That’s okay.” Jonathan dipped a ladle into citrusy liquid. “I’m not interested in anyone living in Dry Lake either.”

  Lena chuckled as he filled her cup with the shimmering yellow juice.

  Ada walked into the kitchen from the front hallway. “So where are Cara and Lori?”

  Deborah passed a cup of lemonade to Ada. “They went for a long walk. Cara wanted to be sure Better Days was tired so he’d stay settled as people come in and out.”

  When everyone held a cup of lemonade in hand, Jonathan raised his. “To Ada’s house—”

  “Ada’s House!” Deborah interrupted him. She turned to Ada. “That’s what this place needs—a good name, ya?”

  “Ada’s House?” Ada looked a little unsure, and then she broke into a huge smile. “Ada’s House.” She lifted her cup toward Jonathan.

  He smiled. “To Ada’s House. May God bless it beyond all they can ask or imagine.”

  Deborah knew well Jonathan’s favorite Bible passage, the one he’d just spoken a few words from—Ephesians 3:20. She’d never been touched by those words like he always had, but this time they took on new meaning. She took a sip of the lemonade as the words filled her with hope and dreams of what lay ahead.

  Ada placed her arm around Deborah’s back. “He already has blessed me above what I’d asked or dreamed, because of you,” Ada whispered.

  Deborah raised her eyebrows, playfully. “But I’m open to even more. Ya?”

  Ada laughed and nodded. “If you are, I am.”

  Ephraim ran his hand across the wood in front of him, removing the dusting of sawdust. Thoughts of Cara lingered continually. And rumors about her swirled like mad. Some said the church leaders intended to welcome her into the Amish community. Others said that there were two single Amish men in Hope Crossing eager to court her and that the Riehls were trying to build a relationship with her.