The Bridge of Peace (21 page)

When she and Ada had enough apples, they ran an apple press, where the children could squeeze out a tiny cup of their own cider. Ada used the pulp to make four-ounce jars of apple butter, which sold much better than they’d expected.

While counting out change to the person in front of him, Ephraim glanced up at Cara, who stood in the tower. He passed a written order for desserts to Deborah.

“I didn’t expect her to love this type of work.” Deborah read the slip of paper.

“
Ich hab
.” Ephraim spoke the words
I did
quietly. He pulled out a large brown paper bag from under the counter and passed it to her. “It gives her a chance to connect with Englischers on stuff I know almost nothing about—music, television shows, sports.”

Deborah opened the bag, ready to fill it with baked goods. “She’s crazy about you.”

Concern reflected in Ephraim’s eyes as he studied Cara for a moment before returning to his register. “I know.” He looked at the next customer. “What can I get for you today?”

Folks who’d gotten off the last hayride were now picking out sugar pumpkins for making pies. Then they’d buy some baked goods and head for home. The group currently in the maze had already been on a hayride. Ada’s House and Pumpkin Patch would close in less than thirty minutes. She finished filling the order and passed it to the woman. “Denki,” Deborah said.

The woman put her nose at the edge of the boxed pies and breathed deeply. “Oh, this will be perfect for our ladies group tomorrow.”

As Deborah said good-bye, she noticed Jonathan beside his horse, patting and talking to her. His eyes met Deborah’s. He cocked his head, mouthing the words
Surprise for Lena
. He pointed at the barn. Deborah nodded. She hadn’t forgotten. Lena would turn twenty-four tomorrow. Since tomorrow was Saturday, Lena would come help at Ada’s House for a while, but then she’d spend tomorrow night with her family. So Deborah and Jonathan were giving her a surprise party—with the emphasis on the word
surprise
.

If all went well, they’d celebrate Lena’s big day as soon as the last customer left. It’d be a mixture of gag gifts disguised as real presents. But what made this plan more fun was that the trick goods were ones Lena had purchased. With help from Jonathan, Deborah had confiscated the items from Lena’s hidden stash.

Jonathan tipped his hat before leading the horse toward the barn. Time to take care of his horse and let her rest until tomorrow afternoon.

Lena nudged Deborah. “Customers at the far side of the pumpkin patch.” Lena pointed. “I could go, but I think they need a bit of Deborah advice with the kiddos before the parents have an all-out fight on their hands.”

“Oh, ya, sure.”

While Lena filled another order, Deborah hurried across the yard and toward the pumpkin patch. Lena had told her that she had a way of working with siblings that kept everyone happy.

She drew a deep breath, taking in the cold air, the array of delicious smells, and the joy of having great friends and family. She’d always cherished them but never more than now. Lena hired a driver and helped Ada in the kitchen on the nights and weekends when she could get here. Ephraim made sure to be here on Friday and Saturday nights. Jonathan had stayed five days straight after Elsie’s funeral, helping them make up for lost time. They had designed and cleared paths in the maze and built the tower, and each week he went with her to all the Amish farms, where she bought pumpkins. Cara pitched in as if she’d always been a part of the Amish community. They also baked and sold dozens and dozens of small loaves of Amish Friendship Bread, and she’d be surprised if they had any left to enjoy over a cup of hot chocolate when they closed for the night. But friendship bread to munch on or not, after the crowds were gone, she and her friends would sit in the living room and share events that took place at their stations. And they’d had crowds like this every night for the last four weeks. Clearly the fliers they’d posted in town and the ads they’d taken out in the newspaper were doing their job. She’d expected business to slow to nearly nothing after the Englischer celebration of Halloween passed, but she’d been wrong. If anything, business had picked up.

Her girlfriends she’d been close to most of her life came to help out when they could—Rachel, Linda, Nancy, Lydia, Frieda, and Esther. They had all come on three separate weekends, and it’d been way too much fun to call what they’d done actual work. Unfortunately Anna Mary hadn’t come at all. She had a new beau in Lancaster, some ninety minutes away by car. Deborah missed her, but she understood.

“Hello.” Deborah waved as she came toward the family. She looked at the girl sitting on the ground, crying. Her brother stood with his arms folded, grumbling about wanting a different pumpkin. “So what is it about that pumpkin that you like so much?” she asked the boy. Either she’d find a pumpkin that suited both of them, or she’d sell them two pumpkins at half price each. Customer service that guaranteed satisfaction seemed to be a main reason they had such great repeat business.

Grey sat in front of a roaring fire. He could feel its heat but still felt gripped by icy remorse, and he wished he knew how to break free. Was this how grief always worked? Did it enclose a person on all sides and never let up, even during sleep? Or was this worse because he’d been such a fool with his time?

Sprawled on the floor between him and the hearth, Ivan quietly played with his wooden toy horses.

“Daed?
Der Gaule kann nimmi schteh
.” Ivan rose and turned to him, telling his father that his horse couldn’t stand up anymore. Its hoof had broken off.

Grey held the horse in his hand, wondering if he remembered how to carve little animals. He’d made these for Ivan’s second birthday and hadn’t carved anything like it since.

Ivan’s eyes grew large for a moment, indicating that he’d thought of something. He scurried across the wood floors in his socks toward the back door.

Grey called after him, telling him it was wet outside.

Ivan said nothing as he slung open the back door.

Children. Their resilience astounded him. Ivan missed his Mamm. He crawled into Grey’s lap and cried sometimes, but then Grey would read to him, or talk to him of Elsie, or get on the floor with him and play. Soon enough the intensity of Ivan’s sadness would ease. Grey’s regret hadn’t dulled for one moment.

It seemed the most Grey could offer Ephraim at the cabinetry shop was to muddle through his work load. Grey’s Mamm kept Ivan, and Grey worked as few hours as he could and still be able to pay bills. Even though Grey had no energy and no clear thoughts to help him accomplish much, Ivan only seemed to need him to be present. So Grey was there. He remembered a man once telling him that regret after a loved one died was like living in hell itself. At the time Grey hadn’t understood.

“Daed, kumm.”

Grey checked the clock almost wishing it was time to put Ivan down for the night. He had another two hours before Ivan’s bedtime. As much as he longed for the ease of free time once Ivan was asleep, he knew that’s when another night began, one that seemed to last forever. He rose and went out back.

Pointing to a tree branch, Ivan told his Daed to look. “
Guck
.” He wanted a new horse carved from that branch.

Grey told him they couldn’t cut that branch. That it would hurt the tree.

Across the yards, his and Allen’s, he could see that every room in his friend’s home seemed to have at least one kerosene lantern lit. The idea of visiting his friend pulled on him. Allen had come over every day since … Elsie had passed. He’d bring Grey a newspaper, or food from his kitchen, or just a few minutes of talk about the weather. Each time Allen would ask Grey to come for a visit. Since Ivan wanted more from Grey tonight than he could muster, maybe he should go. Ivan needed a distraction, and Allen’s home always had children.

“
Witt du ans Allen’s geh
?” Grey asked.

Ivan grabbed his Daed’s hand, pulling him toward the steps that led to the yard.

“Whoa.” Grey pointed at Ivan’s sock-covered feet. They went inside and put on their coats, hats, and boots.

Soon enough they were in the barn, and Grey hitched the horse to its carriage. Grey’s home sat at the end of a long lane. No other homes could be seen from here, except Allen’s. If Elsie had been so inclined, Grey would have built a bridge across the creek that separated his and Allen’s places. But she liked seclusion—cherished it actually.

Maybe if he’d tried harder to understand her.

He couldn’t stop the constant rehashing of old topics, so he didn’t even try. But he felt as cold and damp on the inside as the weather around him. He hoped his heart would grow used to it so it’d feel normal rather than be this current unbearable pain.

He helped Ivan out of the buggy, and his son ran ahead of him. The boy knocked, and Allen opened the door, welcoming him. He heard the Kauffman clan cheer and clap when Ivan entered.

“Phoebe, Amos, look who’s here,” Allen called out.

Tears stung Grey’s eyes as he led his horse to the lean-to, and he breathed a prayer of thankfulness. It seemed he had little to offer Ivan these days except the steadfastness of quiet love and being with him. But energetic love oozed from others and made up for what Grey could not give. When he stepped inside, everyone spoke a friendly hello just as they always did.

“Kumm.” Allen hugged him. “We’re just now finishing dinner. Can we fix you a plate?”

Grey shook his head. “We ate at Mamm’s a few hours ago.”

“You and everybody else had dinner at a reasonable time, I’m sure. We had to wait on Lennie, and she spent today in Hope Crossing at Ada’s House and then got to running late.”

Lennie stuck her tongue out at Allen. “Watch it, big brother. It’s my party, and I’ll make you cry if I want to.”

Grey helped Ivan out of his coat and then took off his own and hung them on the coatrack. The humor and camaraderie in the Kauffman household caused him to take a deep breath for the first time in a month.

“Kumm,” Phoebe said to Ivan before running upstairs. Ivan ran behind her.

While still sitting, Israel pulled the chair out for Grey. “Did what Lena said make sense to anyone?” Israel asked.

Grey took a seat, knowing conversations in Allen’s household ran in every direction at once. He always enjoyed the lively banter.

“It’s a twist on lyrics to a song,” Lennie answered her Daed. “You’ve heard it when in stores and such. Haven’t you? ‘It’s my party, and I’ll cry if.…’”

Israel held up his hand. “From your rumschpringe days?”

Allen’s wife, Emily, brought a cake to the table.

“Ya.” Lennie went to the counter and grabbed a dessert box. “My tenth-grade English teacher had us listen to songs in class and dissect the lyrics. We did that for a few minutes every day as a creative way to understand concise storytelling.”

Emily cut a slice of cake and passed it to Grey. He rarely ate a cake he liked, so he passed it to Israel.

Israel took the plate and set it on the table in front of him. “I don’t even want to know any of the lyrics. I still wake in a cold sweat when I think of what all you heard and saw while attending public school.”

Emily passed Grey another piece of cake. He gave it to Allen.

“Me too.” Allen mumbled around the cake. “I worry what the statute of limitations is for any trouble she caused while there.”

Lennie set the dessert box in front of Grey, and when Emily tried to pass him another piece of cake, Lennie intercepted it. “No cake for Grey, Emily. Remember?”

“Oh,” Emily said, “I always forget about that. Who doesn’t like cake?”

“Grey,” Allen offered.

Emily laid a hand on her stomach, and Grey realized she was expecting again. She didn’t look too far along, but had someone told him, and he’d forgotten?

“With four little ones and one due this spring, I can’t even keep straight what
I
like to eat and not eat.” Emily giggled.

“I understand.” Grey chose to ignore the pang of sadness that smacked him. He’d had such hopes of him and Elsie receiving good test results and finding healing from years of marital stress. Then they’d have had more children.

He put a hand on the box Lennie had set in front of him, but Allen stopped him. “I wouldn’t open that if I were you.”

Lennie took the container and opened it. “Allen, you’re a big scaredy-cat.” She passed the box back to Grey before going to the island and getting another dessert box. Grey took a cookie—chocolate chip oatmeal with pecans, his favorite.

He caught her eye, and the look on her face assured him it wasn’t a coincidence. “Allen would have brought them by your place tomorrow, but since you’re here, please take them with you.” She set another dessert box next to Allen. “Just don’t touch it, and you’ll be safe, big brother.”

“What kind is it?”

Lennie shrugged.

He picked it up and smelled it. “Lemon pound cake?”

“Deborah’s?” Emily asked. But Lennie didn’t respond.

Allen set the box on the table. “Lemon pound cake is my favorite.”

Lennie took a bite of the chocolate cake. “I know.”