The Hope of Refuge

Praise for
The Hope of Refuge

“What a beautiful story of hope and renewal! Cindy Woodsmall’s
The Hope of Refuge
is an honest and moving portrayal that rings with authenticity. It warmed my heart long after I finished reading and reminded me that new beginnings are possible, truth frees, and love can make all things new, if only we can learn to trust again.”

—M
ARLO
S
CHALESKY
, award-winning author
of If Tomorrow Never Comes
and
Beyond the Night

“Cindy Woodsmall’s
The Hope of Refuge
takes the reader on an emotional journey into the heart of Amish country and the heart of a very human heroine. A compelling novel of love lost and found with realistic characters from two very different worlds which become, beautifully, one.”

—K
AREN
H
ARPER
,
New York Times
best-selling author of
Deep Down

Praise for Cindy Woodsmall

“A skillfully written story of forgiveness and redemption. Woodsmall’s authentic characters illustrate beautifully how wounded souls can indeed be mended.”

—S
USAN
M
EISSNER,
author of
The Shape of Mercy
and
White Picket Fences

“Cindy Woodsmall writes
real—
real people, real conflicts, real emotions. When you open her book, you enter her world and live the story with the characters.”

—K
IM
V
OGEL
S
AWYER
, author of
Where Willows Grow
and
Waiting for Summer’s Return

“Reaching deep into the heart of the reader, Cindy Woodsmall pens a beautifully lyrical story… She paints a vivid backdrop of Amish and Mennonite cultures with fascinating detail and memorable clarity. Fans of this genre will be thrilled to discover this new author.”

—T
AMERA
A
LEXANDER,
best-selling author of
Rekindled

“Like the stitches on a well-loved quilt, love and faith hold together Cindy Woodsmall’s
When the Soul Mends
, the brilliantly written third story in the Sisters of the Quilt series. With deft plotting and characters that seem to jump off the page, this novel offers the timeless truth that forgiveness is the balm which heals all wounds and a blanket for the soul.”

—K
ATHLEEN
Y’B
ARBO,
author of
The Confidential Life of Eugenia Cooper

“What a vibrant, strong, emotional story!”

—G
AYLE
R
OPER,
author
of Fatal Deduction
and the Seaside Seasons series

“Cindy Woodsmall’s characters wrapped themselves around my heart and wouldn’t let go.”

—D
EBORAH
R
ANEY
, author of
A Vow to Cherish
and
Remember to Forget

O
THER
B
OOKS BY
C
INDY
W
OODSMALL

The Sound of Sleigh Bells
When the Heart Cries
When the Morning Comes
When the Soul Mends

To Justin, Adam, and Tyler

The Hope of Refuge
shares the story of several moms—their strengths, weaknesses, joys, and sorrows. I dedicate this book to you because each of you woke a different part of me before I even felt you move inside me. When I held you in my arms, it seemed my very DNA shifted. Without conscious effort, you stirred me with a challenge to be your mom—to become more than I ever was before. I found strength where weakness had once been. As you grew, you stumbled on weaknesses I hadn’t known existed. But because of you, I discovered that life had a euphoric side. And I learned that where I ended—where my strength, wisdom, and determination failed—God did not. For Him and for each of you, I am eternally grateful…

“Mama, can you tell me yet?” Cara held her favorite toy, stroking the small plastic horse as if it might respond to her tender touch. The brown ridges, designed to look like fur, had long ago faded to tan.

Mama held the well-worn steering wheel in silence while she drove dirt roads Cara had never seen before. Dust flew in through the open windows and clung to Cara’s sweaty face, and the vinyl seat was hot to the touch when she laid her hand against it. Mama pressed the brake pedal, slowing the car to a near stop as they crossed another bridge with a roof over it. A covered bridge, Mama called it. The bumpiness of the wooden planks jarred Cara, making her bounce like she was riding a cardboard box down a set of stairs.

Mama reached across the seat and ran her hand down the back of Cara’s head, probably trying to smooth out one of her cowlicks. No matter how short Mama cut her hair, she said the unruly mop always won the battle. “We’re going to visit a… a friend of mine. She’s Amish.” She placed her index finger on her lips. “I need you to do as the mother of Jesus did when it came to precious events. She treasured them in her heart and pondered them. I know you love our diary, and since you turned eight, you’ve been determined to write entries about everything, but you can’t—not this time. No drawing pictures or writing about any part of this trip. And you can’t ever tell your father, okay?”

Sunlight bore down on them again as they drove out of the covered bridge. Cara searched the fields for horses. “Are we going to your hiding place?”

Cara had a hiding place, one her mother had built for her inside the wall of the attic. They had tea parties in there sometimes when there was money for tea bags and sugar. And when Daddy needed quiet, her mother would silently whisk her to that secret room. If her mama didn’t return for her by nightfall, she’d sleep in there, only sneaking out for a minute if she needed to go to the bathroom.

Mama nodded. “I told you every girl needs a fun place she can get away to for a while, right?”

Cara nodded.

“Well, this is mine. We’ll stay for a couple of days, and if you like it, maybe we’ll move here one day—just us girls.”

Cara wondered if Mama was so tired of the bill collectors hounding her and Daddy that she was thinking of sneaking away and not even telling him where she was going. The familiar feeling returned—that feeling of her insides being Jell-O on a whirlybird ride. She clutched her toy horse even tighter and looked out the window, imagining herself on a stallion galloping into a world where food was free and her parents were happy.

After they topped another hill, her mother slowed the vehicle and pulled into a driveway. Mama turned off the car. “Look at this place, Cara. That old white clapboard house has looked the same since I was a child.”