The Bridge of Peace (25 page)

Twenty-One

Cara sat on the corner of her bed as Deborah tried to make her hair look like it should. Second Christmas, and Ada had Amish guests arriving soon. “It’s no use trying to get it to stay in place, Deb.”

“Well, there’s no hiding that all you have is a stubby ponytail instead of a bun under your prayer Kapp. But with enough bobby pins and hair spray, we can make the sides stay in place … sort of. Even Englischers who come here from way outside Amish country take note of your hair. One woman had some sort of zoom lens on her camera and asked if she could take a photo of you while you were in the tower.”

“Uh, lady, the sign out front clearly says no taking photos of the workers.” Cara grabbed her prayer Kapp off the open Bible on her bed and passed it to Deborah. She read a few verses from the Bible regularly, but understanding most of it took knowing history and principles she wasn’t familiar with yet. But she kept at it. “Was yesterday what Christmas was always like for you and Ephraim?”

“There were always presents, too much food, and lots of people we loved. Is that what you mean?”

“I … I guess. It just feels like I’ve entered a different country sometimes.”

Deborah wove the last straight pin through strands of Cara’s hair. “Well the fact that we kept forgetting to speak English probably has something to do with that feeling.”

Cara stood and straightened her dress and apron while looking in the mirror. “It does fit nice.”

“Ya, nicer than my dresses fit you. Ephraim knew what he was doing when he hired Lavina to make new dresses. Christmas present or not, a man paying for dresses to be made for his girl or wife, like Ephraim did, has to be a first.”

Cara moved to the dresser, picked up another gift he’d given her, and opened it. She ran her fingers over the well-worn pages of
Sense and Sensibility
. The clothbound edition had been published in 1908, and Ephraim had given it to her yesterday for Christmas. From the moment she’d opened it, she’d sensed an odd stirring in her soul.

Ephraim loved books as much as she did. She’d noticed that the first night she slept in his home. Finding the gift had taken him time, effort, and money, but that was only part of what touched her so deeply. When she opened the book, the first sentences filled her like music used to, and she felt the beat of them thrum inside her. The feelings hadn’t faded a bit since yesterday.

She used to love books above all else, but that was before she had to drop out of school in order to survive. After that, reading became a luxury she didn’t have time for, and music had filled that void. Everywhere she worked, music came through the speakers or the music channels on television.

“He’s said nothing about me not taking Lori’s bike away.” The texture of the off-white pages felt much like an infant’s palm.

“What else did you think he’d do?”

“I … I expected at least a little bullying on the topic.” She couldn’t remember dealing with a man who hadn’t bullied her in one way or another. Her husband had been a gentle man in a thousand ways, and she’d grown to love him deeply, but even he knew the fine art of cornering her—and because of it, she’d married him.

She read a line from Jane Austen’s book:
Had he married a more amiable woman, he might have been made still more respectable than he was
. She wanted to be amiable for Ephraim’s sake, to make him respected again in the community. To make him happier with her than he would have been with Anna Mary or any other woman.

As she skimmed some of the pages, she knew that everything that drew her to music, or to anything else not allowed by her future husband’s people, could be found inside books. And she sensed that she might be able to let go of longing for non-Amish things. “I … I want to be able to commit to the Amish faith by springtime. I do.”

Deborah smiled and embraced her. “My Daed always says that wanting to make the needed sacrifices and actually doing it is the main difference between those who have peace later in life and those who die in their regrets.”

After she’d opened the book yesterday, she’d been unable to look at Ephraim without tears welling in her eyes. When she’d first thought about joining the faith, she had no idea that giving up music would be so hard. But in ways she hadn’t realized, music had comforted her throughout her loneliest years in foster care. At fifteen, when she became a dancer at a bar, it’d been her first taste of having power over her circumstances. Her very pulse seemed to carry the beat of music, and it pulled on her so much more than the addiction she’d had for cigarettes. And yet her future husband had stumbled onto something that eased her craving.

Didn’t books carry the many rhythms heard in music? Didn’t the words inside a story stir the soul like a song? Books were not forbidden, and Ephraim had given her a way to be herself and yet live inside the boundaries placed around the faith.

He hadn’t known what his gift would do for her, but now she wished to give him a gift that touched his heart just as much. She’d given him a few gifts yesterday—two new shirts she’d sewn for him, his favorite meal for Christmas lunch, and a card listing why she loved him. He’d seemed really touched by those gifts, but what else could she give that would do for him what he’d done for her?

Deborah pulled on her boots. “Ephraim will be here soon. If you want to get that special breakfast made, you’d better get moving.”

Cara gently closed her book and set it back on the dresser. “Will Jonathan be here for breakfast?”

Lacing her boots, Deborah grimaced. “He’s spending today with his family.”

“The whole day?”

“Ya.”

“Did you two ever talk things out?”

She tied a knot in the shoelaces. “No. I’ve decided he’s right. Why force a talk about who we are and what I want from our relationship if I don’t know how I feel or what I want? It’s like backing myself into a corner to make a decision when I don’t have to do that right now.”

“Sounds wise to me.”

“Ya, that’s sort of what Ephraim did with you, isn’t it?”

“Very much, only he had the added pressure of not knowing if I’d ever come to believe in God or be willing to join the Amish faith.”

“He knew what he wanted, but he gave you room until you knew what you wanted. I really admired that. Mahlon never did that on any topic. He always encouraged me to believe about him what he wanted me to believe.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever admitted a flaw in Mahlon.”

“It feels wrong to compare him with anyone.”

“But doesn’t comparing mean we’re thinking? Otherwise aren’t we just accepting whatever others want us to believe?”

“So you think I need to assess the differences between Jonathan and Mahlon?”

“It’s healthy, Deb. If we’re not free to figure out the differences between men, aren’t we judging them to all be alike?”

“One thing I’ve learned this year: men are not all alike.”

Cara chuckled. “They are as different as fool’s gold and twenty-four-karat gold. That’s a valuable lesson to learn
before
you choose someone to marry.”

“Mom!” The sounds of Lori stomping up the steps vibrated the antique doorknob.

Cara opened the door. “In here.”

“Mom!” Lori hollered, sounding really miffed. Cara moved to the landing.

Lori’s hands were on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what, Mom!” Lori’s eyes filled with tears. Whatever Cara had done wrong this time had her daughter really angry.

The sounds of the front door opening caught her attention. Ephraim walked in. He smiled at Cara before glancing at Lori, who stood on the stairway with her back to him. “I shoulda been told!” Lori screamed. “I don’t want that stupid old bike if it’s not allowed.”

“Oh.” Cara’s heart sank. “Okay.”

Lori folded her arms, staring at Cara with huge tears in her eyes.

Ada stood at the bottom of the stairs. “I … I didn’t mean to mention anything about bicycles. We were talking about the types of toys other Amish children got for Christmas, and when she asked why no one got a bike, I answered without thinking. I’m really sorry, Cara.”

“It’s okay, Ada.”

“You ruined everything, Mom! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Lori.” Ephraim’s quiet tone caught Lori’s attention. “You’ll say your piece with respect or not at all.”

Lori burst into tears, ran up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door.

Trying to hide her embarrassment, Cara rolled her eyes. “I’m a horrible mother, I guess.” She shrugged. “Merry Second Christmas, Ephraim.”

“Ada. Deborah.” He nodded at each one. Looking a little unsure of what he’d walked into, he climbed the steps. “Frehlich Zwedde Grischtdaag, Cara.” He moved in closer, and Cara’s heart pounded.

Deborah cleared her throat and hurried downstairs.

Ephraim studied Cara. “Hi.”

“I guess I really messed up again.”

Ephraim’s eyes moved over her. “Blue is a good color on you.”

“I should have told her about the bike.”

He caressed her cheek. “Do you know how much I enjoyed yesterday?”

It’d been the best Christmas that Cara had ever had. It made it perfect to know it’d been memorable for him too. The warmth of his hand didn’t compare to what he did to her heart. When he kissed her, she’d never felt so secure or loved.

He rested his forehead on hers. “That’s a much better greeting.”

She liked that he didn’t let Lori’s outburst rattle him. “She’ll make a better Amish member than I will.”

“If that’s supposed to be a fair warning, I’ll tell you again—I don’t care that you’re not Amish through and through. Our way of life comes easier for her. My guess is, when she’s a teen and in her rumschpringe, she’ll never waver in wanting to live Amish.”

Propping one hand on her hip, Cara pulled back. “And you think I do?”

Ephraim’s gorgeous gray-blue eyes revealed little emotion. “The thought has crossed my mind.”

The door to Lori’s bedroom creaked.

Cara looked around Ephraim to see her daughter peeking through the crack. “You want to talk?”

Keeping the door open just a little, Lori put her lips on the crack. “You shoulda told me.”

“I didn’t know, not until after we’d brought home the bike.”

She opened the door a little more. “I don’t want to fight.”

Cara motioned for her. Lori ran to her and wrapped her arms around Cara’s waist. “You mad at me?”

“No, Lorabean, I’m not.”

“I like my bike, Mom.”

Cara knelt. “I know. Me too.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know, kiddo. What do you want to do?”

Lori looked at Ephraim and back to her mom and shrugged. “I guess I want to do the right thing.”

Cara held her daughter, enjoying the feel of her little arms wrapped around her neck. “Okay. We will. But for now you go on down and give Ada a hug.”

Lori nodded. She went to Ephraim. He picked her up and hugged her.

Lori pointed downstairs. “I made you something on the sewing machine you gave me for Christmas. Mom helped me learn how to work the foot pedal by myself.”

He kissed her cheek. “You two can do anything you set your minds to. But you can’t keep getting mad at your mom when she’s doing her best. You don’t want her getting mad at you when you’re trying but you don’t get it right, do you?”

While still in Ephraim’s arms, Lori studied her mom. “Nee.”

“
Gut. Bischt hungerich
?”

“Ya.”

“
Geh, ess
.” He set Lori’s feet on the floor, and she scurried down the steps.

Cara straightened her dress. She didn’t know exactly what they’d said, but it was something about eating. She went into Lori’s room and made her bed. Ephraim leaned against the doorframe.

“Four of my siblings got new scooters for Christmas. I bought one for Lori a few weeks ago. If you’d like to give that to her for Second Christmas, you can.”

Cara placed Lori’s favorite book on the nightstand.
Shoo-Fly Girl
.

She should be grateful Ephraim had bought a scooter to make up for her blunder, but she wasn’t. She wanted to be the one to give Lori a really special riding toy. Instead she’d done something out of ignorance and needed her daughter’s forgiveness. She’d hoped to make a lasting memory together—and she had, but not at all the one she’d planned.

Ephraim slid one hand into his pants pocket. “Your aunt Emma came by last night after I arrived home. She wanted me to let you know they were saving a place for the three of us at dinner. I got the impression she’d invited us earlier.”

Startled, Cara tried to piece together the last conversation she’d had with Emma. “I remember her talking to me one night during Elsie’s viewing. We were washing dishes at Grey’s. But between her tossing in a few Pennsylvania Dutch words and all the commotion, I didn’t catch enough words to know what she was talking about.” She started out of the room.

Ephraim stood his ground, blocking the doorway. He studied her. “Does Lori know she has relatives in Dry Lake?”

She clicked her tongue and huffed.

“What?” Ephraim stood up straight.

“Nothing.” She whisked past him and started down the stairs.

He put his hand on her arm. “There is too something. I know it. You know it. I just don’t know what
it
is.”

She didn’t like standing two steps below him, so she pulled free of his hand and moved back to the landing. “You’re patient and kind, and, God is my witness, I never knew good men like you existed, so I should probably keep my mouth shut and behave like a sweet Amish fiancée.”

“Do us both a favor and don’t.”

“Okay, fine. No matter how much I change, it’s never enough. Just this morning I began feeling like I could give up music. There is no way you could ever know how huge that is. And now you want me to care about people as if they’re real family.”

“They
are
real family, Cara.”

“No, they are strangers that I’ve met—ones who left me stranded as a child in a bus station. It took years to give up believing in the people I kept hoping would show up for me, so don’t be surprised if it takes years to learn how to let them into my life. I’ve told you before that I stopped accepting crumbs from tables long, long ago.”