The Hope of Refuge (9 page)

“He’ll be fine, Deb.” He moved in front of her. “You did everything right.” Mahlon’s deep, soft voice strengthened her. “You used the power of his love for you to get him to do what’s needed.”

She moved to a lawn chair and sat. “I… I just don’t know if I can handle losing him.”

“Deb.” His back stiffened, and frustration flickered in his eyes. “Don’t do this. He’ll be fine. And of course you can deal with whatever happens. What other choice do you have—to fall apart? That only makes everyone else need to carry you.”

Fear for her Daed took a step back as offense lurched forward. But she knew where he was coming from and why, so she took a breath and gained control of herself “You’re right. I didn’t mean… It’s just that sometimes life is so scary, and about the time you can deal with one thing, something else happens.”

He dipped his head for a moment before he looked her in the eye. “I know. But there’s a difference between being concerned for someone and taking on all the anxiety of their what-ifs. You pull so hard for everyone to win, for everyone to be healthy and safe. Just… don’t…

He sounded as if he had more to say. It seemed to her that she deserved an apology, not a lecture, so she waited. A car horn blasted, and she knew the driver had arrived to take Daed to the hospital.

Thunder rumbled, waking Cara. Her head spun with pain, and she wished she had a smoke and a cup of coffee to ease the effects of her lack of both. Darkness surrounded her, but what little sky she could see through the missing parts of the roof indicated the sun’s rays were just below the horizon. The ragged canvas shed placed over her and Lori didn’t keep the chill out. Puppies covered a good bit of Lori, so in spite of the dirt and grime, she was at least warm.

Odors from the hay, the dirt floor, and the aging barn drifted through the air. She saw herself as a young girl swinging on a rope from a loft and dropping into a mound of hay. Could she have been in this barn before?

The mama dog raised her head and laid it on Cara’s leg. She patted her, wondering what the day would bring and where they’d sleep tonight. Longing for basic human comforts, she missed having a toilet, shower, and clean clothes.

As she stood and knocked musty hay and dirt off herself, her tiny, pathetic apartment in the South Bronx took on a luster it’d never had before. It had hot water. A kitchen. A bathroom. A front door with keys that said she had the right to be there. She pulled a black beetle from her shirt. And the bugs stayed mostly on the floor during the night, not in her bed.

Trying to think how best to handle today, she slipped out the back of the barn through a narrow hole where a couple of vertical slats used to be. The cool May air smelled of rain. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep or maybe from the layer of moldy dust that covered her. A desire to go to the creek and wash up pulled at her, but she stayed put. The sun slowly climbed over the horizon. Birds sang. Dew covered the field. She’d never seen a sunrise like this. Rays of light danced on the droplets of water that covered the fields.

When she heard a noise, she squeezed through the opening again and saw a young boy standing next to Lori and holding a pup.

“I got to hide ‘em,” he whispered. “My brother’s gonna sell ’em at the auction today.”

Cara moved forward. “He’s on his way here?”

The boy turned. “Not yet. He’ll probably wait till they start selling livestock to come get ‘em.”

“We gotta hide them, Mom. Simeon said they’re too young to leave their mama.”

In spite of her inclination to get out of there quickly, something about this scenario felt familiar—the boy’s straw hat, collared shirt, suspenders, dress pants.

Simeon pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and laid it on the ground before unfolding it. The mama dog wasted no time gobbling up the tidbits of food.

“What’s an auction?” Lori asked.

“It’s where you can buy all sorts of things. We always have it at our place because we’re the only ones with enough parking space and a huge building to keep the rain out. We got whopper tents with just roofs and no sides set up, too, so some of the selling can go on there while some’s going on inside the shop. And there’s enough food to feed everybody.” Simeon told where he lived and where his brother’s house was, and he rambled about a meeting that would take place at his house tomorrow night and how his brother lived alone. He went on and on as if he’d forgotten what he’d come here to do.

“Simeon!” a male voice hollered.

The little boy’s eyes widened. “That’s my brother.”

Cara grabbed Lori’s arm, scooped up the backpack, and hurried into the silo. While closing the door to it, she placed her index finger over her lips, hoping Simeon wouldn’t tell.

The boy jerked the door open. “What about hiding the puppies?”

“They’ll make too much noise.” She closed the door, but the scowl on his face made her wonder if he’d give them away.

“Simeon Mast.”

She recognized the man’s voice. Simeon’s brother and Heartless Man were one and the same. Cara held her breath. Trespassing and loitering were punishable by law. It wouldn’t be much of a crime, but it’d be enough that the officials would start digging into her life and soon discover she had no money, no place to live, and a daughter in tow.

“Mom,” Lori whispered, “there’s food at the auction, and I’m hungry.”

Cara gently placed her hand over Lori’s mouth. “Shh.” How could she explain that lack of money, not lack of supply, stood between them and the goods? After buying food and clothes at that store in Shippensburg, they had thirty-two cents left. If she dug through Lori’s backpack, she might find enough change to buy her a little something.

The dark, dank hole crawled with creepy things. What was she doing living like this?

The question made her long to get back at Mike. He’d dogged her moves off and on for more than a decade. He should be in a dark hole with creepy things, not her.

The man’s voice grew louder, as if he was heading straight for the silo. “Of course I’m not taking the pups to the auction.” He sounded as if he were leaning against the silo. “We’ll find homes for them in a few weeks when they’re old enough. But with Daed in the hospital and all your sisters busy with the auction work, you need to be my shadow. Now, come on before I lose my patience.”

Silence reigned for a bit, and then the barn door slammed shut. She waited a couple of moments, then eased the silo’s hatch open and helped Lori get out. Simeon’s brother must’ve brought a pan of food with him, and the mama dog’s tail wagged as she ate.

The sounds of many horses’ hoofs grabbed Cara’s attention, and she peeked through the barn door. A long row of horse-drawn buggies lined the road, all heading east. Cars moved around them, driving in the same direction.

“Simeon said over a thousand people will be at the auction,” Lori said. “Can we go too? Please?”

If they went and if she found a little more money, she might be able to buy a hot dog or something to help ease Lori’s hunger. Besides, if this place had any answers for her foggy memories or why that man had called her by her mother’s name, she was more likely to learn of them by going to a communitywide event than by traveling down quiet roads with her daughter. Since the auction was open to everyone, it couldn’t hurt for them to show up.

Cara grabbed the backpack. “Let’s slip out the back and freshen up in the creek first. We can’t go looking like we slept in a barn.”

The special-event tent over Deborah’s head promised to keep out the threatening rain as she spread frosting on a tray of cinnamon buns. She and Ada had been baking since two a.m., and now they were almost ready for the hundreds of customers to begin arriving. Six warming trays were lined up, filled with breakfast food—scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, biscuits, scrapple, and breakfast breads.

Lists of what else needed doing filled her thoughts, but she wanted a chance to talk to Mahlon. Between her baking hundreds of biscuits and cinnamon rolls for today’s auction and her younger siblings needing her, she hadn’t caught more than a glimpse of him since the driver had arrived last night.

“Hey, Little Debbie.” Jonathan’s familiar voice made her turn.

She laughed at the sight of Mahlon’s cousin standing before her in the usual Amish attire but with the add-on of a white chef’s apron and knee-high waders covered in mud.

He rolled his eyes. “Hey be nice. My makeshift cooking area is a muddy mess.”

“You be nice. Anything I make should be better than a store-bought snack cake. So knock off the nickname thing.”

He stuck out his hand, offering to shake hers. “Deal.”

She peered at his palm, checking for a buzzer.

He smiled and showed her his empty hand before lowering it. Jonathan usually made some gentle but humorous remark about her name. Maybe some Amish somewhere used the name Deborah, but no one in her life knew of them. She’d been named after her mother’s Englischer midwife.

She lifted her leg slightly, glancing at the hem of her dress. It already had spatters of mud. “I know at the end of today, I’ll be doing my best to scrub mud out of all our clothing.”

“Ya, you will. You should have worn a dark-colored dress. Did you get the change drawer?”

“Not yet. I’d forgotten, actually.”

“Nothing like an annoying friend to remind you of things you haven’t done.” He chuckled. “I can’t go get it. I’ve got sausages cooking. But if you need anything cooked, give me a holler.”

“Denki.”

It seemed odd that Jonathan and Mahlon were first cousins when the only similarity was the color of their eyes. Jonathan’s lighthearted openness was quite a contrast to Mahlon’s silent depth. Figuring Mahlon out didn’t come easily. But he drew her—as if she were a parched land and he were a deep well of cool water.

Something so faint it almost didn’t exist brushed her awareness, and she turned to find Mahlon at the edge of the tent, watching her. How she wished she could fully know what was behind those hazel eyes. A river most likely, a wide and deep one, teeming with thoughts and emotions that went deeper than most people experienced on their most reflective day.

He nodded a quiet hello, and she went to him. The apology she’d wanted from him last night reflected in his eyes.

“Morning.” His deep, caring voice caused her skin to tingle. He slid his hand into hers and squeezed it. “Any more updates on your Daed?”

“Becca called the shop around ten o’clock last night. The doctors are pretty sure it wasn’t a heart attack. That’s the good news.” She shrugged, not sure she understood the rest well enough to explain it decently. “It appears he had a spasm in the rib cage muscle. Fluid has built up throughout his body again, including around his heart and lungs. The doctor said that caused the shortness of breath and some of the chest discomfort. They’re giving him meds that’ll reduce the swelling. But none of that explains his odd behavior and mumbling about seeing a ghost.”

“When will he get to come home?”

“Right now they’re saying Tuesday. Becca asked me to have the driver come get me that day. She needs some things picked up at the pharmacy and grocery store, and she’s too worn out and scattered to think it all through by herself.”

Mahlon studied something behind her, and she turned.

Israel Kauffman walked beside Mahlon’s mother, carrying a twenty-pound package of raw sausage. He was quite a looker for a man in his midforties—thin yet robust, with lots of shiny brown hair and a smile that never ended. Whatever he said to Ada made her laugh. Ada was only slightly younger, and both were widowed, so it seemed to Deborah they’d make a nice couple, but as far as she knew, they never saw each other outside of districtwide or communitywide events.

Israel took the meat around back of the temporary wall they’d installed, where Jonathan manned the sausage skillets in the makeshift kitchen. Deborah took Mahlon by the hand and moved back to her work station. She handed him a cinnamon roll to eat, and then she began making egg-and-bacon biscuits.

Ada went to the washbowl and scrubbed her hands. “I told Israel we’ve been at your house baking biscuits and cinnamon buns since two a.m. You know what he had the nerve to say?”

Deborah shook her head.