Inescapable (4 page)

“Hi, Roger,” I said, without smiling. “It's been a long time.”

His face lit up, and he grinned widely. Was he going to taunt me again? In front of Charity?

“Well, it certainly has. How are you? And who is this?”

As he looked at my daughter, I saw a look of bewilderment cross his face. Roger had been best friends with Clay. Was he seeing the similarities?

“This is my daughter, Charity. Charity, say hello to Mr. Carson.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I failed. It shook like an old woman's.

“Hello, Mister Carson,” Charity said shyly. Actually, she said “Hello, Mistah Cawson.” Charity had trouble with the letter
r
.

He smiled at her. “Nice to meet you, Charity. What a beautiful little girl you are. You look just like your mother.”

“Thank you,” I said. I felt my face flush while I tried desperately to come up with something else to say. I wanted to leave, wanted to get away from this man before he said or did something that would stir up old wounds. “So . . . so you still live in Washington?”

He nodded. “Yep. Never left. That probably sounds silly to someone like you who made it out, but I actually like it here. I took over my parents' dairy after Dad passed away. I still live in the same house with my wife and two sons. Mom is in the nursing home.”

“Oh. Did you marry a girl from our school?”

He grinned. “Yes. Do you remember Mary Yoder?”

I'm sure my expression matched my shock at this revelation. “Mary Yoder? From Kingdom?”

“Yep. I snagged a Kingdom girl. Quite a feat.”

I was so surprised I couldn't respond. How in the world did Mary and Roger end up together? I couldn't imagine a more unlikely pair.

“Where are you headed?” Roger asked.

“We're going to Kingdom to see my grandma and grandpa,” Charity said proudly, her earlier shyness gone.

“Really?” he said with a smile. He looked at me. “Have you been back lately?”

I managed to shake my head.

He zipped his coat open and pulled a card out of the pocket of his jeans. Then he took a pen from his shirt pocket. “Listen, Lizzie, I know Mary would love to see you. I'm writing down our telephone number.” He scribbled for a moment and then handed me the card. “I believe there are several phones in Kingdom now. Cora Menlo has one in the restaurant you can use.”

I took the card from him and stared at the number for several seconds. Finally I said, “Thank you, Roger. I'll keep it in mind.” I grabbed Charity's hand. “Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to get going.” I turned and almost ran back to the car. Charity pulled at me, telling me I was walking too fast, so I scooped her up in my arms and carried her. I opened the back door and quickly fastened her into her car seat. As I pulled out into the street, I looked in my rearview mirror.

Roger still stood in the parking lot, staring at our car. I wasn't a little girl anymore, but I hadn't lost the terror of being bullied. Surprised that those raw feelings still existed in my psyche, I focused on beating back the shame that made my heart beat faster and my breathing speed up. The thought occurred to me that I was driving away from one source of pain in Kansas City and right into another. Would Kingdom be even worse?

I drove
until the pavement beneath me changed to dirt. About ten miles later, my car bumping on uneven surfaces, I found the road to Kingdom. Almost hidden from sight, it cut through a large grove of trees. Anyone not knowing what to look for would surely miss it. I turned off onto a small lane not made for automobiles. As soon as I was certain my car couldn't be seen from the road I'd just left, I pulled over and got out.

A strange sensation had come over me when I'd made the last turn toward Kingdom. For the first time since I'd left the town I grew up in, I felt a twinge of homesickness. Not for my mother or for the friends I'd left behind. For the town itself. I stared down the road, wondering what awaited me. How would I be greeted? It was impossible to know unless I gathered up the nerve to complete my journey.

I'd stuck my keys inside the pocket of my jeans, and when I pulled them out, the card Roger had given me came out with them. After staring at it for a moment, I crumpled it up, jogged to the other side of the road, and tossed it down into the deep ravine that bordered the other side. It was a dangerous drop, and more than once horses and buggies had needed rescuing when drivers were careless about navigating the narrow path. I watched the card land in a snowdrift at the bottom. Roger had been so cruel to me and to the other children from Kingdom that I had no desire to call him or ever see him again. Besides, he reminded me too much of Clay. I briefly wondered if he and Clay were still friends. Probably not. Clay had been gone a long time.

I hurried back to the car and checked on Charity. She'd fallen asleep again not long after lunch. I smiled at her angelic face and wondered how my decision to come back to Kingdom would affect her. Charity had always been loved by the only parent she knew. If she experienced rejection because of me, what would that do to her? Even as I asked myself these questions, I was reminded that I had no other choice. I had to protect her from the known threats, and I couldn't afford to worry about what
might
happen.

The tiny town wasn't on any map, so surely no one from the outside world could find us there. Perhaps my father and the church might try to turn us away, but no matter what lay ahead, I'd find a way to make it work. At least until I could come up with another plan. I got back in the car and drove as slowly as I could, trying to miss all the ruts, but it was almost impossible, since snow covered everything. After hitting one rather large hole, the car jumped violently and Charity woke up.

“Are we there yet, Mama?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “This sure is a bumpy place.”

Cherry Bear, you have no idea how right you are.
“We're almost there, honey. If you look out your window you'll soon see the town just over that big hill.”

I glanced back at her in the rearview mirror, taking only a quick look, since watching the road was vital to our safety. The snow began to drift down from the sky again, and I feared that our journey would soon become even more treacherous.

Although the ground was now white, I could remember walking down this path in the spring, wild flowers covering the ground below the tall trees. Purples, blues, yellows, and reds had anointed the area like colorful patchwork quilts. I'd pick the flowers and bring them to my mother, who put them in a jar, decorating her drab kitchen with various shades of the season. Even Father seemed to like them, though he was opposed to almost everything beautiful or colorful. This attitude especially applied to our clothing. Our dresses had to be dark blue or black, with aprons in the same shades. In the winter we wore dark bonnets, and in the summer, black prayer coverings.

Not long before I left, Pastor Mendenhall introduced the idea of pastel-colored dresses for the women and white prayer coverings for the unmarried girls. The young women in Kingdom buzzed with excitement about the idea, but a few weeks later, the elders, under the direction of my father, quashed the notion. “This is the beginning of the world's leaven,” Father had said in response to the pastor's suggestion. “It will introduce vanity and encourage impure thoughts in the minds of our young men. This idea has no place in Kingdom, and we will not have it.”

The kind pastor, not wanting to start strife in the church, backed off. However, the pastor's wife, Bethany, quietly got up and walked out of the meeting when the elders' decision was announced. Since I took Charity and ran away not long after this incident, I never heard what fallout resulted from her rebellion, but her bravery helped me to make the decision to leave.

Although Kansas was known for its flat plains, the terrain around Kingdom was very hilly. The large hill that hid the town from prying eyes also made the last mile of our trip somewhat dangerous. My tires slipped and skidded up the sharp incline. As we finally made it to the top, the snow was falling more heavily, making it hard to see more than a few feet in front of the car. We were almost at the edge of town before the place I'd known as home so many years ago became visible through the misty white veil of winter.

“What's that, Mama?” Charity called out. She pointed to the large white structure on the corner as we approached the heart of the town.

“That's the church, Cherry Bear,” I said. Kingdom Mennonite Assembly Church looked exactly as it had when I'd left. It was as if I'd only been gone a few days. The surprise came as I drove farther into town. Several of the shops on Main Street had been painted. Charity asked about almost every building we passed, so I tried to tell her about them.

A few of the businesses I remembered were gone, and there was at least one new sign painted on the front of another building, but the snow prevented me from reading it. The quilt shop was a lovely blue, and the café was crimson with white trim. Eberly's Hardware was yellow, and Menninger's Saddle and Tack, although it was still white, was trimmed with green. Green shutters, a green door, and green window boxes. The blacksmith shop, where my father worked when he wasn't at the church, looked exactly the same—bare wood weathered by time, and it still leaned slightly to the right. Some of the men in our church used to tease Father that in a strong wind the entire building would fall down. However, offers to help rebuild the structure were turned away. Father always said he would do the work himself, but somehow it never got done. Obviously nothing had changed. The large wooden sliding door was shut, meaning he wasn't there. I sighed with relief, since I really wasn't ready to deal with him yet.

“Mama, is this Kingdom? I think it's pretty.”

I had to agree with her. But the biggest shock of all was the discovery that I wasn't driving the only vehicle in Kingdom. There were four others parked amid the horses and carriages hooked up to hitching posts in front of various stores. I saw two pickup trucks and two cars. One dark-colored car with its bumper painted black and another car that was bright yellow with shiny chrome bumpers. It was parked right in front of Cora's Corner Café. Some brave soul had certainly broken ranks with the status quo. I pulled over and gazed at the brightly colored restaurant.

Cora Menlo. I'd forgotten how kind she'd been to me. It had been very hard for her to get the approval of the elders to open her small business. In Kingdom, the elders basically ran everything. No one could make a move without first getting their permission. And anyone who wanted to become a part of our community had to seek an audience with the elders before putting down stakes. Of course, not everyone was considered holy enough to join our ranks. And God help the citizens who displeased them. Even though Cora had lived in Kingdom since she was very young, I could still remember how she trembled the day she petitioned my father all those years ago. Just as the elders could vote to allow someone to live in Kingdom, they could also vote to expel them.

“Women should stay home and feed their husbands,” Father had insisted. “We have no need of a restaurant in this town.”

“My husband is dead, Elder Engel,” she'd said, standing in the kitchen of our small home, addressing my father. “I have no way to make a living.”

“The church provides for you, Sister,” he'd replied gruffly. “That should be good enough.”

“But I'm a good cook, Elder. As you know, many of our men are without wives. They work in their fields but have no one to come home to. No one to cook them a good meal. This would be a service to the community. A ministry. I . . . I think there are a lot of lonely people in Kingdom who need companionship. And a place that feels like home.” She'd cast her eyes to the floor. “And when a wife is sickly or with child, I could assist them. I see many ways my restaurant could benefit our people.”

“Our people are benefited through the church, Sister. This is God's way. If you want to help our community, you may do so by joining the other women from our congregation who cook for others without expecting to be paid. I find it sad that you will only do a good deed if you are given money for it. Surely this does not please God.” Father's dark, bushy eyebrows had knit together in anger. He wasn't used to being challenged, especially by a woman.

I'd watched Cora's expression as she faced my father. She jutted out her jaw and met his eyes without fear. Something I'd never been able to do. “Pastor Mendenhall said he thought it was a fine idea.” She spoke these words quietly but with obvious strength, knowing the effect they might have on my father. He was frequently at odds with the pastor he and the other elders had elected. Our pastor, in my father's opinion, was trying to mix the world's leaven into the church by talking too much about love and forgiveness. Father saw these as bywords of the world, using them as excuses to wink at sin.

In my mind's eye I could still see his face as he glared at poor Cora. “I see you have already gone over my head. Why come to me then? Is it your plan to stir up strife so we will give in and agree to your proposal?”

Cora continued to meet Father's furious expression. “No, Elder Engel. I came hoping to receive your blessing. I have no desire to create strife in the church.”

My father had taken two steps closer to the frightened woman. She immediately moved back. “I will take the Christian way and be a peacemaker,” he'd thundered. “I will not contest this plan of yours. But do not expect to see my family cross the threshold of this . . . this restaurant.” He spit the last word out as if it were rancid food.

Cora, obviously feeling as if she'd won the battle, scooted out of our house before her victory, albeit small, could be snatched away. I happened to catch my mother's quick smile as she returned to stirring a pot of beef stew simmering on our stove. That smile bothered me for a long time. It had never occurred to me before that my mother might actually disagree with my father about anything.

Cora got her restaurant. At first only single farmers and widows came to eat. But eventually, families drifted in and Cora's business was a success. True to my father's word, our family never stepped foot inside Cora's Corner Café.

I looked around at a place where change had always been unwelcome. But something had obviously happened in Kingdom. Change had come, welcome or not. Two women hurried out of the quilt shop, capes protecting them from the cold. The dresses that peeked from underneath their winter cloaks were adorned with colorful printed flowers. One dress dark green, the other a deep pink.

“Mama,” Charity said rather breathlessly, interrupting my musings, “this place looks like it's been here forever.”

I laughed. “It hasn't been here forever, but it sure has been here a long time.” After living in Kansas City, my daughter was certainly taking a step back in time. The buildings in Kingdom were old. Some of them going back to the very foundation of the town. The first settlers who called the area home were part of a thriving settlement called Mason City, named after its founder, William Mason. Mason had been instrumental in bringing the railroad to Kansas. Unfortunately, many years later the route was changed, leaving Mason City miles away from the railway line. That decision eventually turned the city into a ghost town.

Twenty years later, a disgruntled group of Old Order Mennonites, uncomfortable with what they saw as worldly and unrighteous changes to their faith and not willing to unite with their Amish brothers, discovered the abandoned city. They decided to build their own “Kingdom of God,” the first name they gave their new town. Eventually, it simply became Kingdom. The aim was to mold the place into their vision of what God's kingdom on earth should be. They developed a sanctuary, hidden from the unwelcome attention of a sinful world.

Although people in nearby towns knew about Kingdom, almost everyone left them alone. Kingdom residents preferred anonymity, as did their neighbors. Folks who lived in the reclusive town weren't known for their welcoming attitudes. As a girl I recalled several occasions when a hapless fisherman or hunter accidentally wandered into town. None of them stayed long after being greeted by a resolute committee of Mennonite elders, dressed in their plain clothes, wide-brimmed hats, and obligatory beards, demanding to know their business.

A couple exited the hardware store carrying satchels and wearing the darker and more traditional clothing that I was used to. They got into a buggy and headed down the street toward the residential part of town. The business area was very small, but many of the people who live in the area were farmers, so the actual vicinity designated as Kingdom stretched out for several miles all around.

I drove to the middle of town and turned down Paradise Road, toward my family home. Apprehension caused my heart to beat wildly inside my chest, but, as I watched the houses pass by me, memories of childhood friends and fun times began to come alive in my mind.

Two blocks away from my house, a group of small children ran around in the front yard of a home where the Hoffmans had once lived. Their daughter, Callie, had gone to school with me. But these children couldn't be hers. Most of them looked several years older than Charity, and when I left, Callie had still been single. As I drove past they stopped their playing to stare at me. There might be a few cars in Kingdom now, but it was obvious they were still a novelty.