The Hope of Refuge (41 page)

Her words reminded Cara of something her own mother had written to her dad. She went to her dresser and flipped through the letters. When she found the right one, she took it to Ada and sat beside her. “Mama once wrote that the reason she gave her all to help my dad get free of his addiction was because she had to know she’d done her best, and then she could accept whatever came of it. But she writes it much better than I can say it.” Cara passed her the letter.

“Denki.” Ada ran her fingers over the folded pages. “I can remember from our school days that Malinda had a special way of saying things.”

Cara went to the dresser and gathered a large stack of letters. “Then read these as it suits you.”

A horn tooted, which meant Robbie had arrived.

Ada held on to the letters as if embracing a delicate teacup. “I can’t go visiting, not today.”

“Those men in black—”

“The church leaders aren’t men with guns from an Englischer film. They are servants of God who are doing their best, whatever may come of it.”

For the first time Cara understood who the men were and why. “You’re right. I’m sorry. The church leaders told Ephraim that Mahlon might have left, and he’s concerned for his sister. He wants me to come to Dry Lake today and be a go-between for him and Deborah so they can sort of talk.”

Ada nodded. “Go. I’ll keep Lori here.”

“Better Days is still here. The backyard needs more work, but it’s safe enough for them to play in. Ephraim roped off two corners that have a lot of glass shards down in the grass. Tell her not to go inside those areas.”

“I’ll take good care of her.” Ada wiped a stray tear. “I don’t think Deborah will ever want to see me, so it’s just as well I live so far from Dry Lake now. But will you tell her I’m sorry?”

“I will.”

The horn tooted again. Cara hurried down the steps and out the front door. The awkwardness between her and Robbie wasn’t as miserable as their first ride together, but returning to Dry Lake was difficult enough without trying to hold a conversation with him. After they shared a polite hello, she settled back in her seat, glad he was staying quiet.

“The Masts are good people.” Robbie startled her when he spoke. “Abner, Ephraim’s dad, just doesn’t know who you are. One day you’re in jeans, stumbling around like you’re drunk, and the next you’re wearing a dress you stole off his clothesline. You lived in a barn his son asked you to leave, and then you moved into his son’s home. I think that’s enough to stretch anyone’s trust.”

“You know too much.”

“I shoot the breeze with Abner pretty regularly. Unlike Ephraim, he’s a talker. So, were you stealing from the Swareys and drunk the day he saw you on the road?”

“Good grief.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I stole a pair of shoes and some stuff for Lori’s blisters. And I’d do it again if need be. But I wasn’t drunk.”

He shrugged and said nothing for a few minutes. “I know that most of the Amish in Dry Lake are sorry for how they treated you. The rest don’t know what they think, not yet. So you just say very little and nod a lot when you’re around a group of them. Almost all of them know Englischers they like. The Amish are extremely careful who they let have an influence on their children. You seem to have a lot of influence on Abner’s child—a grown man, but still Abner’s child.”

“You know, you actually make sense when you’re not being obnoxiously nosy.”

Robbie laughed. “At first I didn’t trust you being in Ephraim’s life either.”

“And now?”

“He doesn’t care whether I like it or not. And I can’t stop you from being in his life. Since I can’t get rid of you, I’m trying to keep you from making things worse between him and his family.”

“Denki.”

Robbie smiled and held up a small plastic bag. “This is for you.”

Cara took it and looked inside. He’d bought her a pack of cigarettes. “You know these things kill a person slowly. So if your goal is to get rid of me, that’s a poor plan.”

He chuckled. “No. I had to stop to get gas on the way here, and I remembered you wanted a smoke last time we rode together.”

She held the bag out to him. “That was thoughtful, and I’m impressed. But I’m fully detoxed, by no choice of my own, and I don’t intend to re-tox.”

“Smart woman.” He pulled into the Masts’ long driveway. There had to be twenty people under the shade trees, and most of them were looking right at her as the car passed by.

“What was Ephraim thinking?”

“He wanted you to come?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s interesting. They’re here to support Deborah, but I don’t see her. She’s probably in no mood to be seen, but they want to make a statement to her by their presence.” He clicked his tongue in disgust. “I worked beside Mahlon for a lot of years, and I never saw this coming. Leaving is one thing. But to go after joining the faith and asking someone to marry you is just not done—and never like this.”

“I need to keep my mouth shut and nod a lot, you say?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t think I’ll be more than a few minutes. I’m going to see if Deborah will come to the hiddy and talk to me. Will you wait?”

He stopped the car. “Abner’s under one of the trees behind us. I’ll go talk to him for a bit.”

“You’re welcome to come and go among the Amish as you please?”

“It took a few years of being a good neighbor and a good employee to have this type of ease. But I’m still an outsider, so the rules of play are different. Mahlon could repent and return tomorrow, and it’d take him a decade to be truly welcome in many of the homes.”

“And Ephraim?”

“I don’t really know. It’s different with him. He crossed a line, to be sure. Now that they know who you are, some admire what he did. Others think the two of you probably, well, you know.”

“Slept together.”

“Yep. And they’re offended that he let you stay the night. After the shunning is over, it’ll take years to regain most people’s respect. He’ll never have everyone’s.”

“You know, there are perks to not having a family or community.”

“Yeah? Is it worth it?” He opened the car door.

As soon as they got out, several men and women headed their way. She recognized Emma and Levi Riehl.

“Cara.” Levi stepped forward. “You remember my wife, Emma.”

Looking unsure of herself, Emma held out her hand. “Welcome.”

Welcome?
Who was the woman trying to kid?

But she remembered Robbie’s advice, so she shook the woman’s hand and nodded without saying anything.

“I have some people I’d like you to meet,” Levi said.

The names flew at her as Levi introduced aunts, uncles, and cousins. She only nodded and smiled as each person shook her hand, either apologizing to her or welcoming her. Looking past the small crowd, she saw Ephraim leaning against the side of the house, a gentle smile revealing his thoughts. He’d paid the price for this day, and he continued to pay. Had he known this would happen when he asked her to come to Dry Lake today?

To her left, Robbie stood talking to the man she’d seen in the pasture her first day in Dry Lake and who’d come to Ephraim’s the night she and Lori were dancing. He slowly walked toward her.

Levi didn’t introduce them as he had with everyone else.

“I’m Abner, Ephraim’s father. I…I was wrong to tell everyone to beware of you—that you were drunk or on drugs when I’d only caught a glimpse of you.”

Cara swallowed, wishing a simple nod would do as an answer. “I’m sure I looked as odd to you that day as you did to me. Besides, soon after you called me a drunk, I called your son heartless.” She stole a glimpse of Ephraim. “It seems we were both wrong.”

Abner held out his hand, but when she placed hers in his, he didn’t shake it; he patted it. “Denki.”

“How’s Ada?” A woman’s voice came from somewhere above her.

Abner looked to a spot at the side of the house, and Cara followed his gaze. Deborah stood at a second-story window, looking out.

Cara stepped closer. “She said to tell you she’s sorry.”

Without saying anything else, Deborah moved away from the window.

Levi motioned to a chair.

Cara took a seat. Women were whispering. Some were crying.

“We don’t understand why he left.” Emma sat in a chair beside her. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

In her mind’s eye Cara could see how much sadness they must’ve felt when her mother left. It struck her that when she left a place, no one cared—except Mike. Maybe living under a set of rules that helped hold families together was worth it.

“When your mother left, we thought we understood. It wasn’t until recently that we found out her real reason.”

Cara wanted to ask what Emma meant, but she kept nodding. Besides, she didn’t want to get all friendly and comfortable with these people. They felt remorse and pity. That wasn’t good enough. She’d outgrown taking scraps of affection from a family’s table a long time ago.

Deborah came around the side of the house, barefoot and no apron. Wisps of hair dangled around her face and neck, and her white cap sat a bit off center on her head, but no one seemed to mind. Her face held little of the gentle beauty Cara had seen at the auction. Right now her complexion reminded Cara of a puffy gray storm cloud. “I want to go to Ada, Daed.”

Her father studied her. “Of course you can go to her. She needs a visit from you.”

“I want to be her Ruth.”

Abner shook his head. “Child, listen to me.”

“No.” Deborah broke into tears. “You listen. Please, Daed.”

Confused, Cara turned to Emma. “Who’s Ruth?” she whispered.

Emma leaned closer to her. “She’s talking of Naomi and Ruth. From the Bible.”

Cara was tempted to tell her she wasn’t into fairy tales, but she simply raised her eyebrows like she understood. Vapory thoughts floated to her, ones that doubted her doubts rather than God. It did seem that sometimes that book spoke clear and honest truth about who people are—not that she’d read it very much.

Abner looked to Cara, studying her. If she knew about the story of Naomi and Ruth, she might be able to piece together what he was thinking.

“This is your home, Deborah. We need you. But if you want to spend a night or two away, you should.”

“Ada needs me. Her only child has left. Your health is much improved since the surgery. And even if I leave, you have six children still living at home—five of them daughters. Can’t you spare one for a woman who has spent her life being a good Mamm but now has no children at all?”

Cara realized that Deborah was asking to live with Ada. Forever. Abner looked to Cara again, and she almost read his thoughts. He was afraid of losing Deborah altogether if she lived in the same house as Cara. She couldn’t blame the man. Cara had little allegiance to this faith of theirs, and she’d done damage to Ephraim’s life without even knowing it.

Anxiety crept over her as she realized that for Deborah to move in with Ada, Cara probably needed to move out. They wouldn’t want her to have that much time or possible influence with Deborah. Cara looked to Ephraim. He’d done so much to see that she had a roof over her head and could sit among her mother’s people and talk with them like this.

“I can move out.” She said it softly, but enough people heard her that they began to pass the word along to those who hadn’t.

Deborah stepped closer to her father. “That’s not what I want. Ada’s rental agreement is based on the work Cara is doing.” She turned to Cara. “And she believes you’re meant to be beside her. I don’t want to take anything from Ada. I want to make up for what’s missing now.”

Abner sighed—a deep and weary one—as he took a seat beside Cara. “My first wife, Ephraim and Deborah’s mother, loved your mother as much as Ada did. Were you aware of that?”

Cara shook her head.

“It’s the reason Ephraim was allowed to spend so much time with you that summer your mother brought you here. My wife took one look into your eyes and trusted who you were. But I was so wrapped up in my fears of what Malinda would do to this district that I believed all the wrong things. It was easier to believe Malinda got what she deserved than to take a chance on reaching out. So we told her you could return but she couldn’t.”

Deborah moved a chair beside her father and sat.

He took Deborah’s hand in his. “I’ve spent years too afraid of losing what’s mine to see who anyone else really is. As a preacher I encouraged people to build an invisible fortress around themselves and their families. But that caused us to start carrying so much suspicion toward outsiders that there was no way for a stranger not to look guilty over the slightest thing. Then it became easy to turn to each other and say, ‘I knew they couldn’t be trusted,’ or ‘I knew they’d cause trouble.’”

He looked to Ephraim, who stood at the far edge of the house, an outcast inside his family’s yard. “Ephraim and Deborah take after their mother.” He turned to his daughter. “And Ada has a good heart like your Mamm. If you want to reach out to her like this, you do it, child. I won’t stop you.”

Deborah broke into tears and hugged him. “Denki.” She stood, and several women surrounded her and walked with her back into the house.

In spite of the open windows, the humid late-August air didn’t stir. The aroma of Ada’s baking filled the house as Deborah steadied the ladder for Cara while she rolled the wallpaper-piercing tool over another section of the wall.