A Simple Faith: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (22 page)

Haley felt her mouth drop open; she hadn’t expected this sort of attention.

There were quiet murmurs of approval, and a few people came forward to tell her that they appreciated what she had done. She nodded, trying to appear friendly but really wanting nothing more than to escape to a quiet room to talk with Elsie.

When a woman named Rebecca finished talking, Haley turned to Fanny. “How is Elsie doing?”

“Mmm.” Fanny looked toward the kitchen door. “I sent Rose to find her for you. I don’t know why, but I think she’s out back.”

“I’ll go look for her, if that’s okay.” When Fanny nodded, Haley headed out through the kitchen door, bracing against the cold once again.

Dusk was falling, painting the sky with lavender, purple, and indigo. It was a sad sunset, Haley thought, but then maybe her view was colored by the sorrow that hung over this house right now.

Crossing the side yard, she saw the dark profile of the old carriage house that Elsie had mentioned. Thomas and Caleb had been renovating it themselves, working to make a suitable space for some sort of repair shop.

With Thomas’s death, their plans had been derailed.

“Who’s that?” a frightened voice called.

Haley turned to see a small form clinging to a post-and-rail fence. “Elsie? It’s me, Haley.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment.
Am I intruding?
Haley wondered.

“I can’t talk right now.” Elsie’s voice was flat and withdrawn.

“Is this a bad time?” Haley peered into the gray dusk, trying to
glimpse a clue that would help her understand Elsie’s mindset. “Wait. That’s a stupid question. I know it’s a terrible time, and I’m sorry for your loss.” She took a step closer, but Elsie turned away.

“I’m sorry.” Elsie stood her ground. “Please, just go.”

Suddenly, Haley felt awkward. She shouldn’t have come here. She didn’t belong here. Why had she thought that a few bonding moments in crisis could dissolve a cultural divide that had existed for generations?

She turned away and headed back, her boots clunky on the frozen earth. The light of the kitchen loomed closer, and she turned and circled round the back of the house. With this knot in her throat, she couldn’t bear to make nice with the visitors in the house.

It was time to get in the car and get out of here.

Her hands were cold, and tears were beginning to sting in her eyes as she reached into her coat pockets and fumbled for the keys.

Why had she locked it?
You big dummy
. The last place her car was going to be stolen was outside an Amish home in Lancaster County.

At last, she ripped the door open, slid into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door. She gathered the keys and jammed one into the ignition. But when she turned the key, the engine didn’t rumble to life.

There was just a choking sound, then quiet.

Have the mechanic check your battery
, her father had warned her.
If it’s low, this cold weather will make it die
.

The swell of pain inside her rose up and splashed over all her intentions. Pain gave voice to doubt. Doubt to malice.

You’re hardly a hero
.

Think you’ll make it through nursing school?

You failed again. Just like everyone expected
.

The keys fell from her hand as she slumped forward and cried. She cried for all the mistakes she’d made in her life. For the ruse her
life had become, with these people thinking she was a hero. For the wrong man who wanted to own her, and the right man who didn’t love her back.

She cried because she was in the heart of Amish country with a dead battery, both in her car and in her soul.

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E
lsie turned away from the shadow of the old carriage house and tried to shake the image of those twin lights veering toward her.

Imagine an angel … that was what Ruben had told her.

Mamm.

Dat.

Woody. She smiled at the memory of the little brown dog who used to love to follow at her heels, but then the minute she opened her eyes and felt the heavy night sky falling upon her, those lights were back.

Cutting across the line of the highway.

Grunting toward her.

The blast of the horn jolted Elsie from her reverie. A car horn?

Haley.

She gathered the skirts of her dress and raced around the house. Cold air burned her lungs as she paused, spotting the little car, still and quiet in the gathering darkness. Why had it made that noise?

Her eyes adjusted again, and she saw that Haley was sitting in the car, her hands pressed into her face.

“Haley?” She knocked on the window. “Are you all right?” There were no lights on in the car, so it was hard to see her friend’s face.

A moment later, the door opened and Haley peered out. “My car isn’t starting. Do you think I can come inside for a few minutes?”

“Kumm.” The word was out before Elsie remembered that she had been trying to keep to herself, trying to keep from sharing her torment with everyone. And privacy was not something that was easy to find in an Amish house—especially when friends and family had gathered to mourn the dead.

“Come inside, and we’ll get you something to eat,” Elsie said, knowing that a good hot meal could cure many a trouble. Just not everything.

They sat together at the kitchen table, talking quietly, while Haley ate a bowl of the venison stew that Mary Beiler had brought. Haley was very upset about her car, and though Elsie sensed there was more going on, she didn’t probe. She knew that Haley didn’t want to talk about personal things in front of all these people, either.

Haley needed her father to come and pick her up, but her phone wasn’t “getting service.” Elsie went outside with her and waited as she tried to get a phone connection, but the milky white sky didn’t let Haley get through.

“We have a neighbor who has a phone,” Elsie suggested. “Marta is a Mennonite, and her family has electricity and a phone. Cars, too.”

“Can we walk there?” Haley asked.

“Sure. It’s just around the bend.”

Now that the sun had set, Elsie’s anxiety had drained, leaving her tired. This was the pattern of her days now. An unpleasant edginess leading up to the terrifying minutes of sunset. She yawned, noticing the wisp of white steam around her mouth.

“You’re tired.” Haley sighed. “I’m so sorry to do this to you now, with your whole family mourning your father.”

“You’re not to blame, and I’m happy to be out for fresh air. You can only sit around for so much time, talking and eating pie.”

“You always find the good in things, Elsie. I wish I could be that way. Sometimes I feel like everything I touch turns to dust.”

Elsie looked up at the beautiful girl. Even in the dim light, she could see the imprint of sorrow on Haley’s face. “Why do you think that? You do so many good things for so many people.”

Haley blinked back tears. “But I can’t even hold my own life together. Do you know my father has been reminding me about that car battery? It’s just a big example—a symbol—of how I’m still not being a responsible adult.”

“Mmm. From down here, you seem very responsible. But no one except Gott can see what’s truly in our hearts.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Haley’s breath came out in a puff of white. “Maybe I should live Plain. It would be nice to live a simpler life. Less complicated.”

“Plain is good, but Gott has called you to something different.”
And Plain lives aren’t free from pain
, Elsie thought as they turned down the Kraybills’ lane.

They walked in silence for a bit before Haley spoke. “Elsie Lapp, there’s something you’re not telling me. I can feel your tension. No, more than that. Something has got you on edge, and I know you just lost your father, but this is something else. Tell me what it is. Because if you don’t talk about it, no one can help you.”

Elsie stepped onto the frozen mulch under the Kraybills’ big,
bare oak and unburdened her heart. She told Haley about the terrible feelings that came every day at sundown. The horrifying memories. The sureness that darkness was crashing down over the world with each setting sun.

“That’s why I couldn’t talk to you before. It’s such a bad time for me,” Elsie finished. “I can barely breathe.”

“My heart aches for you. And you say it’s every day?”

“Ya. I thought it would go away. Emma said to give it time, and Ruben …” She paused, not wanting to share Ruben’s advice about the angels all around them. “Ruben tried to help, but it still hits me every day. Every day at sunset.”

“And it’s wearing you down,” Haley said. “I can see that.”

Elsie twisted her hands in the tips of her woolen scarf, searching for warmth she couldn’t find. “I don’t mean to complain. Everyone’s so sad now. Fanny’s lost her second husband, and there’s the baby coming and money matters to think about. Caleb doesn’t know what to do, now that Dat won’t be opening that shop. There are folks so much worse off than me. I don’t know why I can’t just be strong and take control of the fear.”

“But you can’t, and that’s okay.” Haley touched Elsie’s shoulder. “Sometimes we need a little help. That’s normal after what you’ve been through. We need to hook you up with Dylan, pronto.”

“No, that’s kind of you, but no.” Elsie shook her head. “Counseling isn’t really something for the Amish. We have our family and our ministers to talk to.”

“But this is a case where you definitely need something more.” Haley put her hands together in a prayerful gesture. “Please, talk to Dylan. Promise me you’ll give it a chance. Pretty please?”

Elsie hesitated. She could imagine the bishop’s cold glare. Once he heard she had seen a psychologist, he would be suspicious of her entanglements with the Englisher world. “I’ll talk to Dylan,” she said. “No harm in simply talking.”

Haley put one arm around her and gave her a hug. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll find something else that does. I’m not giving up on you, my friend. I’m going to be like that persistent fly that keeps looping back into your kitchen for another taste of pie.”

A smile crept across Elsie’s face. “You’re always welcome in my kitchen, little fly.”

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