The Hope of Refuge (32 page)

He took three glasses from the shelf. “I’ll drive you over there, if you want, and wait near the road.”

“I can walk, thanks. News flash. I survived the streets of New York, alone and with a stalker. I’m not weak, Ephraim.”

He passed her three bowls. “A blind man could see that. I just don’t want to wait here alone, wondering how it went. How will I know if the conversation is over at seven, nine, or twelve o’clock?”

She took a ladle out of a drawer. Clearly he didn’t want her facing this alone and then walking back. He cared…maybe more than just as a friend. A tremble went through her. Too much separated them for them to become more involved than they already were. And whatever relationship they did have had to end. Or at least move to more distant ground.

She dipped up a bowl of stew. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“What? Why?”

“I have some start-up money. And you have to get unshunned from your family, community, and friends as quickly as possible.”

“We talked about this.”

“It’s time, Ephraim. We both know it. And I’m not going to that apartment your people picked out for me.”

“But it’s already been paid for.”

“I won’t be paid to leave. And if it wasn’t for you, I’d tell them so myself in not-so-nice terms.”

“Where will you go?”

“Jiminy Cricket, you ask a lot of questions.”

“The social worker, remember her?”

“When I get settled, I’ll call her.” She swallowed, trying to hide how much she was hurting. “We accomplished our goal. I have money now and can stand on my own two feet.”

“A thousand dollars won’t go far.”

“I’ll get another job.”

“How?”

She slammed the bowl on the counter. “What do you want from me?”

“Time. You just found out about your relatives, and you’re ready to bolt. I’m not ready for you to leave. Besides, Lori needs—”

“Ephraim,” she whispered, “the things that separate us will always stand firm.”

He clenched his jaw, staring down at her.

“Let’s eat. Then you can drive me to Emma Riehl’s place.”

She couldn’t swallow a bite, and she heard none of the chatter between Lori and Ephraim, but soon enough all three of them were in the buggy. The sun slid behind the mountains, and darkness eased over the earth—deep purple faded to a dark blue, and then the very air itself seemed to go black.

Ephraim pointed. “There, to your left.”

A bonfire blazed in the side yard. Two or three dozen people sat around in lawn chairs. Children played freeze tag, and teens played volleyball near the barn.

“The American dream lives.” The bitterness in her tone surprised her, but Ephraim didn’t flinch.

“Half the community is here. We don’t have to do this now.”

“Yes I do.”

He tugged the reins to slow the buggy. “Maybe you should try being stubborn for a change, Cara.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, ’From. You should leave that to experts like me.”

Before he came to a complete stop, a broad-shouldered man with a beard left the crowd and walked toward them. She couldn’t tell in the dark, but he appeared to have gray hair around the edges of his hat.

“That’s Levi Riehl. He’s Emma’s husband and your mother’s oldest brother. He might not like that I’m here.”

“Good, then I won’t be the only one who wishes you’d stayed home. I’ll be back.” She stepped down from the buggy, wondering if she should have worn Deborah’s dress instead of her jeans. But it seemed wrong to put on an Amish dress, as if she were pretending to be part of something she wasn’t. Besides, she hated that thing. It made her look heavy, old, and frumpy.

The man looked at Ephraim and waved. He started to turn back toward the house, but then he caught a glimpse of her. He stopped all movement. “You’re Cara.”

She nodded.

He studied her face. “You favor your Mamm, even under the night skies.”

“I don’t really remember what she looked like. But I remember other things.”

Her hands, her voice…her love
.

He stood there without saying anything else, and she thought she’d suffocate under the stiltedness of it. “We didn’t have any hint that she might have passed away until ten years after her death. I’m sorry for how hard growing up without her must have been on you.”

“You didn’t know?” Her mind tried to process that detail. “Emma—she’s your wife, right?”

“Ya.”

“My dad said she’d come for me.”

Levi stared at the ground. “We had no idea where you were.” He shook his head. “If we’d known your mama had died and how to get you, we would have.”

Children’s laughter from the side yard surrounded her like a cyclone. She could have grown up here? Since that never-ending day at the Port Authority so many years ago, each day had carried pain and loneliness. Now all those years of grief stacked on top of her, squeezing her until she couldn’t breathe or think.

He glanced behind him. “I need to get back.”

Her legs shook, and her head spun.

“Levi?” A woman walked from the bonfire area. When she spotted Cara, she gasped.
“Ach, es iss waahr.”

Levi went to her side and whispered something in her ear.

“Enough.” The woman pulled away from him. She stood directly in front of Cara and touched her cheek as if making sure she was real. “Oh, dear child.” She burst into tears. “God forgive me.”

“You did nothing wrong, Emma.” Levi put his arm around his wife, supporting her. “Kumm.”

Shaking her head, Emma wiped falling tears from her cheeks.
“Nix meh. Schtobbe.”

Whatever she’d said, she appeared to be waiting on Levi to answer. After a pause that seemed to last forever, Levi nodded. “We’ve talked about coming to see you, but it’s just so complicated with Ephraim being shunned because of… of… your being there.” He shrugged. “I could explain a dozen honest reasons, but none of them seems worthy as I stand here.”

Emma stepped closer. “Your father called our phone shanty about twenty years ago. His words were slurred. He ranted about Malinda wanting you to be raised Amish. Kept mumbling that I had to come get you. I tried to reason with him, telling him he was asking too much. That Levina was going to raise you. The agreement was that Malinda would bring you back to Dry Lake, not insist we come get you. Levina was too old and unfamiliar with traveling to go by bus. I was pregnant with twins and mostly on bed rest. Levi was working overtime to make ends meet. And your Daed’s words were that of… of a…”

“A drunk.” Cara finished the sentence for her.

“He never said Malinda had died. He only said he’d found our number in her personal phone book and we needed to come get you. Finally I agreed and wrote down the details about where you’d be and when. As I thought about it over the next few days, I discounted the conversation. He was drunk, and I figured if Malinda wanted you here, she’d have brought you.”

“So you just dropped it?”

Tears choked Emma when she tried to speak, and she looked at Levi.

He rubbed her back. “A few days later we tried reaching him by phone, but the line had been disconnected. I called information, trying to find another number for Trevor or Malinda Atwater.”

Teary-eyed, Emma drew a breath. “We decided Malinda must have changed her mind about giving you up but that your dad wanted you gone from there.” She rubbed her hands together, looking as nervous as Cara felt. “We thought she was still alive. I knew she didn’t want to give you up.”

“We didn’t hear from him again until a decade later when he sent a package here, addressed to you,” Levi said. “That’s when we realized Malinda might be dead, and he thought you were living here.”

“But… Ephraim had no idea my mom had died.”

“We shared what we suspected with just a few people—mostly your uncles. There was no way to be sure she’d died, and… and the news would only have stirred guilt and conflict in our district again.”

Emma moved in closer. “When your dad called here, if we’d thought for a moment Malinda had died…”

Cara’s knees gave way, but she didn’t sink to the ground. Someone seemed to be holding her up. Ephraim? When did he get down from the wagon? Would he be in more trouble for this? Her thoughts jumped as if her mind were a Polaroid, registering isolated scenes here and there.

Children held marshmallows on skewers over leaping flames. Moms passed out graham crackers and chocolate bars while guarding the children so they didn’t get too close to the fire.

The next thing Cara knew she was in the buggy. Warmth from Ephraim’s hand seemed to be her only anchor to reality. The clip-clop of the horse’s hoofs echoed against the night. Lori’s faint voice spoke to her, but she couldn’t make out the words.

Slowly a few solid thoughts formed. “My father didn’t follow through long enough to put me into safe hands. What kind of man does that?”

Ephraim said nothing.

“Why would my mother marry someone like that?”

He pulled into his driveway. A buggy stood nearby with a man in it, staring at them.

She waited for Ephraim to guide the horse around back, but he sat still, watching the man. She recognized him. Rueben Lantz, the one who’d seemed to watch her for more than a week. She sat up straight. “What? You got something to say to me?”

He didn’t respond, not even a shake of his head.

She jerked the reins from Ephraim and slapped the horse’s back. He lunged forward, coming dangerously close to the man’s rig. Both horses whinnied and pranced skittishly. Ephraim pried the reins from her hands and guided the animal away from the other one. Rueben drove off, and Ephraim didn’t stop the horse until they were in the barn.

Feeling like her heart had been trampled under a dozen horses, she got out and went to the gate.

Ephraim helped Lori down.

“I want to be alone,” she growled at him.

“Not yet.”

She moved in close, whispering, “Please. Take Lori inside before her mother turns into a lunatic in front of her.”

He nodded and took her daughter into the house.

The silhouette of the rolling hills and massive trees, the silvery glow of the pond, the calls of night—all of it mocked her. These would have been her childhood memories. Instead her life was filled with concrete and asphalt, as unyielding as the people she’d grown up with—people whose names she didn’t even know anymore, except for Mike Snell’s family.

The ache that rolled over her threatened to steal her good sense, and she started walking. She went through the cornfield and soon stood next to the trees. Memories washed over her freely. She wished she could stop them. Wished she’d never come here.

A horse and buggy stopped on the road. “Hello.” The warm, friendly voice reminded her of her mother’s. Tears began to flow. The woman drove the carriage beside the trees. “I was at the Riehls’ place. I saw you leave. I was hoping I’d find you.”

Cara wiped her tears. “Whatever you want to say don’t. I can’t stand hearing one more thing.”

The woman stepped down from the buggy. “I’m Ada. I’ve been praying for you since before you were born.”

“And what a great job your mighty God has done.”

She placed her hand under Cara’s chin. “You made it back here against all odds. You have a few stout supporters in this community who want to set things right. I’d say He’s been quite busy. He’s had a few obstacles to work around, ya?”

Cara wanted to lash out about the community’s “support.” She also wanted to turn and walk away. But the softness in Ada’s voice, the tenderness in her touch called to her, and she fell against the woman, sobbing.

Cara woke with rough fabric against her skin, a sheet over her, and a hard pillow under her head. The aroma of coffee filled the air, and she remembered walking back to Ephraim’s last night with Ada.

Streams of sunlight made it difficult to open her eyes. She splayed her fingers across the cloth and sat upright, realizing she was on Ephraim’s couch. The warm stuffiness of the room said it was at least midmorning. Soft voices floated from the kitchen. She headed that way.

Ada sat in a chair at the table, and Ephraim was leaning against the counter near the sink. A shoebox-sized package wrapped in brown paper and yellowed packing tape sat on the kitchen table.

He glanced out the window. “She’s dead set against moving into the place some of the men have paid for.”

“Do you blame her?”

“No, but that little bit of money in her pocket isn’t enough.”

“I’ll talk to her. Maybe she’ll agree to—”

“Cara.” Ephraim pulled a chair out for her.

She rubbed her temples, desperately wanting a pain reliever. “Where’s Lori?”

He pointed out the window. “She and Better Days and her dolls are having a picnic.”

“Did I miss something? I thought you were shunned.”

“He is,” Ada offered. “I spoke to the bishop, told him I wanted a chance to talk some sense into Ephraim.” She smiled. “Made for a good excuse. Besides, I didn’t want you staying alone last night, and I didn’t want Ephraim to get in even deeper trouble with the church leaders, so I slept over.”

Cara took a seat. “I feel horrible.”

Ephraim placed a mug of coffee in front of her. “This will help.”

“Do you have any pain reliever?”