The Harvest of Grace (11 page)

Ada took a seat. “Well, the good news is the church leaders want you to pass. So they’re not going to do any nitpicking.”

“But I’m tired of sitting through services that make no sense, though I do like Ephraim explaining it all later in the day. Why is learning Pennsylvania Dutch so hard?”

“You’ve only been here a little more than a year, Cara. And look at all you’ve learned. You’ve been focusing on the heart of matters. Ya?”

“It’s hard to believe I’m the same person I used to be. But if I’m honest with myself about all the garbage I still carry, I can’t believe how far I have to go.”

“You’ll get there, dear, because you’re in love.”

“So much so it’s almost sickening.” Cara chuckled. “But for some reason I can’t manage to tell Ephraim how I really feel. I beat around the bush and make wisecracks.”

“I think he knows. Loving and gentle words don’t come easy for you. They don’t come easy for me either.”

“You say lots of loving things to Deborah and me.”

Ada sipped her coffee. “Ya, but you two are like daughters to me. You’re each a gift from God, for which I’ll always be grateful. Still, I would like to be able to voice how I feel to a man.”

Cara leaned back, enjoying Ada’s openness. The woman was like a mom one moment, a best friend another, and always a trusted confidante. Truth was, Cara had never been around a mother and her adult children. Was this what it was like? “Just any man or one in particular?”

Ada’s eyes flashed with surprise at Cara’s question, but before Cara could coax a response, someone knocked on the door.

Ada stood. “I think I’ve been saved by the bell … or rather a knock. You study, and stop thinking about Ephraim.”

“That’s impossible,” Cara called after her.

As she looked over her notes, she heard Ada talking and then her footsteps coming closer. “Cara.”

When she looked up, she saw that Ada’s face had lost all its color. “There’s a man at the door. It’s … Trevor Atwater.”

Cara trembled. “Are you sure?”

“I looked at his ID.”

Images flooded Cara’s mind. Her mother hiding her in the attic to keep her out of his sight. Standing at her mother’s casket. Her dad taking her to the bus station. Him demanding that she, an eight-year-old girl, stay put as he turned his back on her and walked off. Horrible emotions pounded her like claps of thunder.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said. “Thanks.”

The hallway between the kitchen and the foyer had never seemed so long.

He stood in the entryway. It turned her stomach to see him in Ada’s home. She motioned for them to go onto the front porch, and they went outside. Sarcastic, bitter words came to mind. “Can I help you?”

“Carabean, it’s me … Dad.”

Only her mother had called her that and only at really tender moments. Cara called her daughter “Lorabean” at such times. But this man had no right.

“Cara,” she corrected. Actually she’d prefer “Mrs. Moore.” Or better yet, for him never to say her name at all.

He nodded respectfully, looking unsure of himself. “I’ve been thinking about what your little girl said …”

“You had no right to approach my daughter and ask her leading questions.”

He wouldn’t have had the chance to talk to Lori if Ada’s House, with its outdoor booths and activities, weren’t a place for tourists. He’d hung around the booth where Cara sold desserts and drinks, and he’d bought items and talked to Lori and her for weeks before he said something that made her suspect who he was.

“I was trying to figure things out.” His eyes reflected bewilderment. “But I understand less now than ever. Your daughter said something about the two of you living in a barn and your not having been here very long. I don’t understand, and I need to.”

You need?
What did she care what he needed?

Sarcasm begged to be unleashed, but thoughts of Ephraim and the need to protect her standing in the community caused her to keep control. “It’s a long, personal story, one I’m not interested in sharing with you.”

He didn’t flinch or show anger. He seemed resigned to her dislike of him. “You have plenty of reasons for being angry with me. But I want to make things right.”

She laughed. “Is this some type of reality show? Are there cameras somewhere that I can’t see? Surely that’s the only thing that would make you say something so.” Ephraim surfaced in her mind again, and Cara shut up. She cleared her throat. “I don’t need you to do anything except leave me alone.”

“But I have to know, Carabea—Cara. Lori said you don’t know the language, but you must have learned some of it while growing up in Dry Lake with Emma and Levi.”

As a child, Cara was supposed to have been passed off to Levi, her mom’s brother, and his wife, Emma. They were going to raise her, but.

“No comment.”

“But I’m your dad.”

“My father was a drunk. And Mom hid me from you as much as she could until she died. I was told a car struck her. Is that true? Or did you kill her while I was tucked away in that tiny wall space?”

His expression became defensive. “Of course not. Your mom meant everything to me. She was walking to work, and a car ran a red light, hitting several pedestrians. She was the only one who died.”

He rattled off the horror like a well-rehearsed performance, but her body shook the way it had the day she learned her mom was dead. Her mother had loved her and had tried hard to protect her. What had this man done?

She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from striking him. “I needed a lot of things from you growing up, and I got none of them.” The words came out hoarse and shaky. “For the first time since Mom died, I have a chance to choose who and what I want and to be happy. But my chance is fragile.” She hated being so vulnerable with him. “So can you please just leave me alone?”

“But Emma and Levi were supposed to—”

“You stupid, drunken idiot! Don’t you dare talk to me about what Emma and Levi were supposed to do. You left me at a bus station! No one showed up for me but the authorities. I was hauled off to foster care. And here’s the kicker: those were some of the best years of my stinking life!”

The man clutched the porch railing. “No. You’re wrong. I made sure you were with Emma before I left.”

“You dreamed that up so you could live with yourself. With the help of Mom’s diary, I found my way here a year ago. A year ago!” She pointed her finger in his face. “Go drown yourself in drink, and leave me alone!”

“Cara.” Ada’s arm slipped around her. “Kumm.”

Nothing felt real, not Ada’s tenderness or standing on the porch or finally facing her dad. She could be caught in a dream for all she knew. In spite of Ada’s prompting, she couldn’t stop venting her fury on the man before her.

“All you had to do was pass me off like some stupid baton in a relay race, and you couldn’t even do that. Mom would hate you for that.”

“Kumm, Cara.” Ada tugged at her. “Now.”

She pulled Cara inside and closed the door.

Shaking as if she were having a seizure, Cara paced the floors, ranting. “Idiot. He has no clue. None.” When she looked up, Ada wasn’t there, but Lori was.

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Tears filled Lori’s eyes. She ran to her mother and wrapped her arms around her waist. “You’re scaring me.”

Cara breathed deeply, trying to calm herself, but she felt terrified and powerless. The old, uncontrollable anger had taken over, just as it had when she ran away from foster care, fueling her ability to survive.
Oh, God, help me
. She didn’t know anything else to pray.

Cara patted Lori’s back. “I’m fine, and so are you. Dry your tears.” She pulled Lori free of her. “There’s nothing to cry about.”

“Cara?” Deborah spoke softly as she entered the room. “Is there anything I can do?”

Cara looked at her daughter. “You stay with Deborah for a little while. I need to go for a walk, okay?”

Lori wiped her eyes. “I want to go with you.”

Deborah corralled Lori. “Let’s make double-fudge cookies. Big fat ones. When your mom gets back, they’ll make her feel better.”

A tentative smile eased across Lori’s lips. “Okay.”

As the two of them headed toward the kitchen, Cara went to the window. Ada stood on the sidewalk, talking to
him
.

She hated him. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t supposed to. There was no way to get free of what he’d done to her life, just as there was no way to escape her hate.

When she’d seen him a few weeks ago, she’d thought she could cope. She’d known his presence would be a difficult obstacle, but now she knew she couldn’t tolerate him. If the church leaders discovered her weakness, they’d tell her she needed at least another year of growing spiritually and learning before she could join the faith.

Ada stepped inside, closed the front door, and leaned against it. “He’s gone.”

“Forever?” Cara’s voice sounded small and vulnerable. She didn’t want to feel anything for her dad, not anger or compassion or anything.

“I don’t know.” Ada drew a shaky breath. “You were merciless, Cara.”

“He lived exactly as he wanted, and I’m supposed to walk on eggshells so he doesn’t feel too bad about it?”

Ada closed her eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t justified in your reaction to him. I’m sure you didn’t come close to unleashing all the pent-up anger you’ve stored over the years. But if you want to be free of him, you have to extend what he doesn’t deserve—mercy and grace.”

“I have no clue what that means.” Cara flew out the front door and slammed it behind her.

Eight

Aaron stood in the equipment shop, dripping with sweat as he continued to fight with the blades on the hay mower. His fourth day back home, and he’d accomplished nothing. Not clearing the air, mending relationships, taking any stress off his parents, or making headway toward returning to Owl’s Perch. He tried to loosen the bolts that would free the blades of the hay mower.

If you’d cleaned it properly last year …

He’d spent yesterday cleaning last year’s dried mud and hay off the mower. As soon as he finished removing the blades, he’d sharpen them and put the rig back together, and then, joy of all joys, he’d be ready to start mowing the hayfield.

Disgusted and irritable, he set another blade next to the grinding wheel.

His Mamm was warming up to him some, but his father had little to say. Daed had listened while Aaron asked for forgiveness yesterday, but he’d walked out of the room when Aaron tried to explain about his past behavior and addiction.

He was used to the silence between them. It’d been that way for nearly ten years, except now there was clearly unspoken anger in the silence.

He’d earned their anger and lack of respect, but if they could see their way clear to forgive him, they’d realize that he was trying to do the right thing by them. Farm work was no picnic, but the real problem was the unspoken resentment between him and his father.

However, his folks certainly liked Sylvia. When she walked into the house for meals, Daed became someone Aaron didn’t even recognize. He was kind and witty. Aaron didn’t blame Sylvia. It wasn’t her fault. But she believed that with enough effort the farm could be profitable. Only a fool thought the
Titanic
could be patched with a little elbow grease and kept afloat.

The dinner bell rang.

Despite being hungry, he preferred not to go inside for another round of tactful coldness. But he would. He wiped his hands on a greasy cloth and tossed it onto the workbench.

When he entered the house, he saw his mother at the stove but no sign of his Daed or Sylvia. “Smells delicious in here, Mamm.”

She smiled without making eye contact. “It’ll be ready by the time you wash up.”

Walking up the stairs to his room, he removed his suspenders, unbuttoned his shirt, and peeled out of it and his T-shirt. A two-minute shower would help.

He opened the door to his room and found Sylvia asleep on his bed. She had on a dress, but her prayer Kapp and black apron were lying on the chair.

“Aaron, honey?” his Mamm whispered loudly as she topped the stairs.

He pulled the door closed. “Let me guess. You forgot to tell me she takes naps in my room.”

Mamm wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “It’s the quietest and coolest room during the day. She was out all night dealing with a calving. You can wash up in our room. I imagine she’ll sleep awhile today. She never made it to her own bed last night.”

He curbed his desire to remark that she still hadn’t managed to make it to her own bed. Was everything that had once been his now hers? “Not a problem.”

“There’s a basket of clean towels and clothes on my bed.”

After a quick shower he went downstairs.

Daed walked in, carrying the mail. “Are you going to be able to get that hay mower in working order or not?” Daed hadn’t glanced up to acknowledge Aaron’s presence or mumbled one
hello
since Aaron had arrived home, but he wanted updates on his work. Daed sat at the table and began opening the bills.

Aaron moved to his chair. “It’ll work—not great, but it’ll do its job. The blades still need sharpening. If I can get them to hold an edge, we’ll be okay. It’s a really thick crop of hay this year.”