The Bridge of Peace (13 page)

As he slowed the rig, a faint idea tried to wriggle into Deborah’s mind. Touching his hand, she studied the place. “Jon,” she whispered, “keep going.”

Without questioning her, he did.

Chills ran all over her. “Wait.”

He came to a halt.

“Look at that dried-up cornfield.”

He studied it and turned back to her, waiting.

“There’s got to be something … you know … some …”

“Dried-up ears of corn?”

“No.” She climbed down, crossed onto her neighbor’s property, and entered the field.

Jonathan followed her. “Some women make dolls out of parts of cornstalks.”

“Maybe.” Deborah went deeper into the rows. The corn had been harvested, but the stalks remained. That stood out as very odd to her. The field didn’t belong to an Amish person either. Suddenly, as clear as if God were passing her a picture book, she saw it. “A maze!” She spun around slowly. “And Amish-made cakes and pies and apple cider. Maybe other goodies too, along with pumpkins and hayrides. I know it’s late in the season, being the first of October and all, but is it possible we could turn Ada’s House into a pumpkin-patch-type place?”

“Now that is the best idea I’ve heard in a really, really long time.” Jonathan’s face radiated such pleasure and confidence in her. “Since it’s too late to grow them yourself, you’d need to buy the pumpkins and have them hauled in. But the real problem is that a pumpkin patch is just needed for a month or so once a year.”

Her mind spun like the wheels on a carriage. “Maybe we could find a special niche for each season.”

His eyes grew large. “That’s really good. Focus on the pumpkin patch idea. That’s for the here and now.”

Insecurity covered her like a blanket. “Ya, but can we lease the field, and even if we could, can me and Ada actually make money from our work? Will we know how to plan and organize for such a thing? Or will we just be taking on more bills?”

He stood inside that cornfield, studying her. “What does your heart say?”

“Part of it says try, and part of it says run.” She moved in closer. “I want to try. But I’ve never felt so scared in all my life.”

“Then do it while you’re scared,” he whispered, and the rustling of the wind carried his words round and round through the dry stalks. “I’ll help you … if you want.”

Eleven

Cara didn’t know how far they’d gone when she finally began to have a reasonable thought or two enter her mind. She trotted along while Lori rode her bike. They kept going farther and farther from Ada’s. Lori loved it, and she didn’t know her mother was furious … and hurt. Stupid rule. She couldn’t take the bike from Lori. Despite that, she’d been gone a long time, and Ephraim might be looking for her. “Lori, honey.”

Lori stopped her bike.

“Let’s head on back to Ada’s now.”

“Yeah, my legs are getting wobbly.”

“That’s my fault. We’ve gone too far. You want to walk for a bit?”

“No way.”

They crossed a dozen streets on their way back, but soon enough they were on their block again.

Ephraim stood on the sidewalk, looking one direction and then the other. When he spotted her, he wasted no time getting to her.

“’From, look!” Lori chirped. “I got a new bike. Mama and me did it. And I’m good at riding, even in this dress. Watch me.” Lori passed him and kept going.

Cara cupped her hands around her mouth. “Stop at Ada’s, Lori. Don’t go any farther.”

“Okay.” Lori’s voice vibrated as she jolted along.

Ephraim studied her. “You okay?”

“I take it the men in black came to see you too.”

“I spoke to them, ya.”

Cara rolled her eyes and kept walking. Ephraim held out his hand for hers. She tucked her hands inside her folded arms. “What, you’re not too embarrassed to hold my hand after I’ve spattered this horrible stain across the Amish?”

“Not today. Not ever.” He tugged on her sleeve.

She unfolded her arms and slid her hand into his. Lori pulled onto the walkway that led to Ada’s, dropped her bike, and ran into the house. Ephraim gently squeezed Cara’s hand.

“You’re not ashamed.” Cara stopped. “Why?”

“Because I know you.” They started up the walkway. “And I get it—the stumbles and mishaps.” He shrugged. “Plain out, I expected a few to crop up.”

“Look!” Lori ran back out the door with Deborah and Jonathan following close behind.

When Lori pointed to her bike, Deborah looked to Cara. “The surprise?”

“Yes!” Lori clapped her hands. “Isn’t it great?”

“It’s quite a … a surprise.” Deborah searched her brother’s eyes, clearly trying to figure out what to say. “Where did you get it?”

“Me and Mama mowed grass and picked weeds for it!”

Deborah’s eyes grew large. “On a Sunday?”

“Yeah.” Cara tugged at her dress. “And thanks for the great advice about changing out of my jeans and wearing my Amish clothes, Deb. It seemed to be a dead giveaway that I shouldn’t be working on a Sunday, and someone told the church leaders.”

“Oh dear.” Deborah placed her hand over her mouth, trying to smother her laughter. “This isn’t funny. I know it’s not, but …” She glanced at Jonathan, who looked a little more sympathetic to Cara’s troubles.

Clearly, Lori was too preoccupied with her bike to hear much of what the adults were saying.

Ephraim stepped forward. “You’ll have to excuse my sister, Cara. She seems to be regaining her sense of humor … at the
totally
wrong time.” He smiled at Deborah, letting her know he wasn’t the least bit annoyed. “Lori, how about if we put the bike away for now and take Better Days for a walk?”

“Okay, but first I’m hungry. We’ve been gone all day. Mama just doesn’t get hungry like me.”

Deborah held out her hand for Lori’s. “Kumm. I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“Can I take my bike inside with me?”

Ephraim nodded. “Ya.”

Jonathan toted the bike inside as Lori jabbered about it the whole way.

Cara pulled her hand from Ephraim’s. “I’m not asking her to give that up.”

His gray-blue eyes stayed focused on her. “Let’s talk about this later. You’re tired and hungry and angry.”

“Don’t treat me like a kid. Even the church leaders didn’t do that.”

He took a seat on the porch steps. “I didn’t mean to.”

“The Amish don’t ride bicycles?”

“Some do in other states. But you shouldn’t see it happening here, not among the members.”

“What’s so wrong with a bike?”

“It’s one of those old rules we’ve stuck by. They’re a bit flashy, and they allow a person to travel a lot longer distances than a foot scooter.” He shrugged. “I never said I agree with all the
Ordnung
. I just trust that for the most part the regulations are needed to protect our ways and help us stay close and accountable. Bikes are forbidden for us, and I can’t change the rules or stop them from being enforced.”

Her heart jumped. “I didn’t get you in trouble again, did I?”

“Nope. This one’s all yours. But the bishop and preacher’s little talk with you is most of the discipline you’ll get since you’re not a member. They’ll want to talk again when you’ve had time to think. Did you really invite them to leave?”

Realizing just how snarky she’d been, she took a seat beside him. “I … I might have.” She looped her arm inside of his. “Okay, fine. I definitely did. Will I ever get to the end of this list of rules?”

“You mean without breaking each one? Nah, I don’t think so.”

She sandwiched his hand between hers. “I can’t ask her to give up her bike.” He didn’t respond, and her eyes filled with tears. “This just stinks. And it hurts too, not just a little either. All those years of having nothing—not even on Christmas—and then when I finally get to where I can give her something special.…” Cara sighed. “I was so excited about today I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“I’m really sorry. I never once thought about the bike rule.”

“It’s a stupid one.”

“Maybe. But it’s there, and the rule is not open for debate.”

“Now what?”

He leaned in and kissed her, his warm lips easing her anger and disappointment. With his forehead against hers, he drew a deep breath. “You mean everything to me, Cara.” He whispered the words so softly, as if they came from a place deep within him. “That’s all I know. You have to decide the rest for yourself.”

“Some choice,” she mumbled. If she didn’t do it their way, she couldn’t join the faith, and they couldn’t marry. If he left the faith, he’d hurt his family, damage the business, and lose a huge part of himself. Over a bike?

Grey tucked Ivan in for the night, sliding the covers gently over his son’s arms as his little boy snuggled under their warmth. When Grey looked up, Elsie stood at the doorway. Surprise at seeing her there jarred him, but he kept his face expressionless.

He’d wrestled with his soul all day. A wave of forgiveness would come to him for a moment, but then realization of what she’d done would explode inside him like a volcano scattering ash so thick he couldn’t see or feel anything but the aftereffects of the eruption. And now he fought to gain control of his will. He’d told her they’d find answers, but as the day wore on, all he’d found was hurt and resentment pounding inside him.

When he stood to leave the room, her eyes bore into him as they had all afternoon, willing him to understand. He understood. Her decisions had affected their lives like a cancer, and finally admitting what she’d done had not brought them closer. She seemed to think it should. After years of manipulating him through her silence and actions, she wanted him to understand and accept.

He went to the dresser, picked up the kerosene lantern, and motioned for her to leave the room. They walked into the hallway, and he passed the lantern to her. “Good night, Elsie.” He turned to go into his room.

“You’re furious with me.”

Her words stopped him, and he stayed put as she went into her room and set the lantern on the nightstand. “I did what I thought was right. But even if I was wrong, this is how you forgive?”

She didn’t get it, might not ever, and he couldn’t make her. Remaining in the hallway with her standing beside her bed, he pulled the door closed. That door was the least of what blocked them from each other. She needed things from him he didn’t possess—a way to build a bridge to cross the gulf that separated them. If he’d known how to build one, he’d have done it long, long ago. If one existed for him to cross over to her right now, he might burn it himself.

He walked to his back porch and took a seat on the stoop. The dark October air had a little nip to it. Voices carried from across the back field and beyond the creek bed. Allen’s home sat on that piece of property. Like a lot of evenings, his friend’s place was a bustle of activity.

“God, help me. I … I’m so angry with her.” He put his head in his hands, torn between seeing his own faults and the bitterness he felt toward Elsie.

The back door squeaked as Elsie opened it. She stepped outside and pressed her back against the house, staring off in the distance. “I … I finally opened up, and now you’re really angry. It’s not fair, Grey.”

Bitter thoughts washed over him. The moment Ivan was born missing part of one arm, fear began growing inside her. She should have told him … or at least someone.

She removed her Sunday apron. “What do you plan to do?”

“About us? I’m going to need some time. But I have a plan concerning Ivan and school.”

She walked down the few steps and onto the grass before turning to face him. “He’ll thrive in the Lancaster school for the handicapped. I know he will. And those children won’t make fun of him. Rather than being at the bottom of the rung, he’ll be at the top. Don’t you want that for your son?”

“I want Lena to work with him.”

“Lena?” Elsie scoffed. “She does not know Ivan like I do.”

“She’s the best teacher this district has ever had and my guess is probably the best Amish teacher in the state.”

“Just because she attended a public school for a while doesn’t make her a great teacher.”

“Her reason for going is what makes the difference. She wanted to learn all she could so she’d be a good teacher. And she was a teacher’s assistant of some type in a classroom for special-needs students. I trust that she’ll know where Ivan should attend better than either of us does.”