The Bridge of Peace (32 page)

She took the long route to Ephraim’s so she could go up his lengthy back driveway. She looked down at her daughter, still too young to understand the complexities of family, but now Lori knew they had some roots. And Cara had been the one to tell her, not anyone else in the community. For all the frustrating rules of the Amish, she loved the heart of her people—most of them, anyway.

Her people
.

Once on Ephraim’s dirt drive, she brought the rig to a stop. “Do you want to drive the rig to Ephraim’s?”

“Ya!”

Cara passed her the reins. The fields on each side of them were brown with a few patches of snow still clinging to the earth. An amber and purple glow covered them like a dome as the sun moved toward the horizon. Crows squawked while digging at dried vegetation. Gratefulness kept filling her until she felt like she might pop.

“Pull the reins back gently and say ‘whoa.’”

Lori did as she said, tossed the reins at her the moment the horse stopped, and jumped down. “’From!” Her daughter took off running. “I drove the buggy!”

Ephraim came out of the shop and caught Lori before she plowed into him. He swung her through the air, and she was on his hip, deep in conversation, by the time Cara had hitched the horse to a post and walked to them.

Lori brushed wisps of loose hair from her face. “And I got aunts and uncles, my mom said.”

“Ya, you do.” Ephraim kissed Lori’s cheek and put her down. He moved to Cara and engulfed her in a hug. He didn’t soon let go either, and Cara knew he’d been waiting for this. He drew a deep breath. “I love you.”

“Well, duh.” She took a step back. “We got a few things to get straight, mister.”

He laughed. “
You
are going to straighten
me
out on something? This I gotta hear.”

She walked into the shop. “What’s your favorite tool?”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask questions. Just answer.”

“It’s hard to choose, but I guess the table saw.”

“Show me.”

He walked over to it.

“It’s not a hand-held thing.”

“Thus the name table saw. You’re not going to try to teach me how to use it, are you?”

“Shut up, ’From, and tell me how it works.”

“It runs off an air compressor, which is run by a battery-operated generator.”

“If you had to give it up for me, would you?”

“Ya.”

“Would you miss it?”

“Ya.”

“Would you return to it and lose me in the process?”

“No.”

“Would knowing that keep you from missing it?”

“You and leaving your ways is not even comparable.”

“Yes it is.” She grabbed him by the suspenders. “I’m always going to miss some things about my previous life, but I’ve made my decision, and you can’t keep doubting me because I like talking to Englischers about television or music … or, in words you understand, talking to them about how much I used to enjoy my table saw and what all they’re making with their table saws.”

“I don’t like this parallel at all. If Englischers have and use table saws like they have and use televisions, I’ll be run out of business.”

She laughed. “I believe this is where God intended me to be. I’m not messing that up for anything
draus in da Welt
.”

“Out in the world.” His smile seemed never ending. “Very good, Cara.”

“’From?” She tugged on his suspenders.

“Ya?”

“Stop doubting where I’ll land. I’ve landed. I have a lot more adjustments to make, but I’ll make them.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Eeeew.” Lori screeched and covered her eyes.

Wearing the silky pajamas and housecoat Samantha had given her, Lena put the muffin tins in the sink to soak. As much as she loved teaching, she loved Saturdays and the freedom to start the day slowly and ease into it. She’d find a school district that would hire her, and she’d keep right on doing what she did best: teach. She’d made some mistakes. Who hadn’t? But the complainers wanted something even they couldn’t offer—exactness in all things all the time.

Her Daed stood. “Those were good muffins, Lena. Denki. I’m going out to get started.”

She dried her hands and followed him out of the kitchen. He stopped at the coatrack and grabbed his straw hat. “You got plans for this morning?”

Lena slowly climbed the stairway. “Getting dressed, which I’m about to do, and then whiling away the hours like a single working woman should.”

“You, dressed soon after dawn on a Saturday? I need to write this down in my journal.” He smiled broadly and left the house.

Lena went to her room and slid out of her housecoat. The fleece throw blanket on her hope chest tempted her to wrap up in it and get a second cup of coffee. The wonderful thing about Saturday mornings was they were most often hers to do as she wanted. She grabbed the blanket, her Bible, the auction notebook, and a pen before heading back down the stairs.

She spread the stuff on the table, got another muffin and a cup of coffee, and relaxed against the kitchen chair. Wrapped in the fleece blanket, Lena opened her Bible.

She’d never enjoyed her weekends as much as she had recently. Not only did she have a new, two-week-old niece to adore; she had a good reason for spending a lot of time at Allen’s. Helping Emily as much as possible after each birth was part of her life. And she stayed with her sisters and other sisters-in-law after they’d given birth too. But this time it’d become an unexpected pleasure. A fair amount of the evenings, Grey arrived in time for dinner, let Ivan go to sleep with Allen’s children, and stayed until after midnight, playing games. Allen and Emily’s enjoyment in his company ran deep. She’d been tempted numerous times to talk to him about the board’s decision to let her go, but she hadn’t. He didn’t know about it, or he’d have apologized for their decision. But if Michael didn’t want to burden Grey with the matter, she would respect that.

She tried to clear her mind of thoughts of Grey and focus on prayer and the Word. After a little while she nudged the open Bible to the side and grabbed the notebook for the auction. Trying to concentrate on her organizational lists spread out on the table was quite difficult. Grey filled her mind—his voice, eyes, sincerity, and even his rare grin. He was the only man she’d given ample opportunities to consider her, but he never did. When she’d gone to him to talk about attending public school, she’d hoped he would say,
Go, and when you’re done, you’ll be of a good age, and I’ll be here waiting
. But he never showed an ounce of interest, not the romantic kind.

She traced her birthmark, wondering how he really saw her. He was past feeling sorry for her as he did when they were children, wasn’t he? And what did he mean when he said he hid things while boldly looking at people? What would he have to hide, except his true thoughts concerning how he perceived people?

The question stung, especially since everything about him drew her. Would he ever see her as more than a friend? To marry a man like Grey would make up for all her years alone and be worth every unkind whisper she’d overheard about her being an old maid. Marriage happened young for Amish women. And courting even younger. If Grey slowly grew to love her, she might be twenty-eight or thirty before they were married. That’d be quite a wait, and she had no doubt that he would be well worth it, but could he ever care for her in that way?

That thought skewered her heart. She grabbed the bottle of her favorite lotion off the middle of the table and put a dollop in her hand. The creamy texture carried a mix of fragrant flowers as she spread it over her bare arms and hands. She drew a deep breath and tried to focus on the upcoming Picnic Basket Auction. She had to get her feelings for Grey in perspective. But it seemed that after all her years of pooling the love in her heart, waiting for a man to give it to, she now had no say over how she felt. He’d unknowingly opened the floodgates.

Elsie’s rare quietness, beauty, and poise held Grey captive. When he could get past that loss, he might see that Lena had other things to offer, good and valuable things—like a powerful friendship, lots of laughter, and children. Years ago, before he married, Grey had said he wanted a lot of children. For whatever reason, Elsie only gave birth twice.

Since Lena wasn’t graceful or gorgeous like Elsie, and Grey would always love Elsie more than her, maybe God would bless them in different ways, like them having a large and strong family. In her mind’s eye, she could see his blue eyes and the joy she could bring to him—if he’d give her a chance.

Twenty-Eight

The new worker at the cabinetry shop, Christian, helped Grey load the buckboard with wood to take to Lennie’s. April began tomorrow, and the warmth of spring had melted most of the snow. When Grey’s Mamm asked to take Ivan to Lancaster for the day, Grey said yes, and he intended to use this free Saturday to make the window boxes he’d promised Lennie.

“Denki, Christian. I didn’t realize you’d be here on a Saturday.”

“Ya, me either.” Christian’s toothy grin came just short of laughter. “But Dwayne wanted to see inside the place, so I brought him over. What project are you working on today?”

“Just keeping a promise to the schoolteacher.” Grey glanced toward the cabinetry shop, making sure Dwayne was still milling about inside. “Have you met Lena Kauffman yet?”

“I might have. I’ve met a lot of people in the two weeks I’ve been here.”

“She’s the schoolteacher.”

Christian’s brows knit. “Don’t recall—”

Dwayne barreled out of the shop. “Sure you do,” he said as if he’d been eavesdropping. “You saw her at church Sunday before last. The one with the stain on her face.”

Christian looked at Grey and shook his head at Dwayne’s crassness. “Ya. I talked to her for a spell. She’s witty and nice looking.”

Dwayne looked as if he’d just swallowed bad milk. “Are you crazy? She’s not …” He stopped and then huffed. “Whatever.”

“Her name is Lena.” Grey slid another board into the wagon. “And as the local schoolteacher, she has a picnic basket auction every year. Single men bid on baskets filled with goods single women have made. Of course married women make baskets too, but only relatives—mostly husbands and children—bid on those.”

“You’re telling me she’s not seeing anyone special?” Christian looked very interested in what he’d just learned.

“No,” Grey answered, feeling unease grab his gut. Christian had been working with him and Ephraim for two weeks. Grey liked the man, and he’d thought about mentioning this to him before, but he kept getting a catch in his gut. He just figured he needed to know him better first. Today, as Grey looked forward to seeing Lennie, he’d wanted to ease some of her loneliness for Jonathan, but right now he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth.

“So”—Christian closed the tailgate to the buckboard and fastened one side—“I could go to this auction, and if I won the bid on her basket, she and I could go on a date?”

“Ya.” Grey fastened his side of the tailgate.

Dwayne crossed his arms. “You picking Christian out for her, or do you go around encouraging all the single guys to give her a chance?”

Grey had started this conversation at a really bad time.
If
he should’ve started it at all, he shouldn’t have done so with Dwayne around. “I’m not picking anyone out. I just thought I’d mention the auction to the local newcomer.”

Christian stayed focused on Grey. “She hasn’t been to any singings since I’ve been here, ’cause I looked. So I figured she was taken.”

Dwayne spat on the ground. “If you’d asked me, I’d told ya to …” He caught Grey’s eye and then shrugged. “Never mind.”

Grey didn’t know what unkind remark Dwayne was going to say, but he had no more respect for Lennie than Peter did. Grey found it encouraging that Christian wasn’t bothered one bit by what Dwayne thought.

Christian shifted, turning his back on Dwayne. “When is this picnic auction?”

With the rig loaded, Grey climbed up and took the reins in hand. Regardless of how he felt about starting this conversation, he couldn’t undo what he’d begun. “The third Saturday in April.”

Christian nodded. “In three weeks. Denki.”