The Bridge of Peace (26 page)

“They aren’t offering crumbs.”

She bit her tongue to keep curse words from slipping out. “Yes, they are. Their own children are grown, meaning time is easier to come by these days. Then I showed up in their driveway months ago and challenged them concerning their decisions.
Now
they want me to visit and hang out? And you’re pushing me for them.”

“I just asked if Lori knew she had relatives.”

“Ephraim.” She elongated his name with deep frustration. “Give me a break. Man alive, you don’t bully, but you let your will be known.”

“And so do you, Cara.” His raised voice rattled through the old homestead. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Look, I understand you—where you’re coming from, how and why you feel the way you do—but that doesn’t keep me from having opinions of what I think you should do next. If I’m wanting too much to happen too soon, I have no doubt you’ll say so.” He angled his head, a touch of humor reflecting in his eyes. “And sometimes, like today, you can even tell me without cursing.”

Cara shook her head, wondering how she could start an argument with someone she loved so completely. “I haven’t told her.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah, but you just had to ask anyway, didn’t you?”

“Okay, so you’re right. It was more than just a question, but I’m trying, Cara.”

She rested against the wall, wondering if she’d ever be all that he deserved. “Me too.”

“I know.” He moved in close, placing one hand on the wall beside her.

“Why is it so stinking important that I connect with my so-called family?”

He shrugged. “It’s not important.”

“Oh, I beg to differ, Ephraim Mast. It’s very important to you. I just don’t know what
it
is.”

His gentle smile warmed her. “You won’t like it.”

“I’ll survive. Say it, rich boy.”

“Uprooting is in your blood. You began running at fifteen, and sometimes I … I’m concerned you haven’t really stopped yet, only paused.”

“And you think aunts and uncles that I barely know the names of and cousins I don’t know at all have the power to change me?”

“Family has a way of causing roots to grow.”

“That can be true, but we also know family can cause a person to put on her running shoes. Look at it that way, and you’ll be fine.”

He lifted her chin and kissed her. “If you stay, we stay. If you leave, we leave.”

Her heart turned a flip. He wasn’t talking about whether they’d stay at Ada’s today or visit her relatives. He meant her joining the faith … or not.

The confidence in his eyes and mannerisms didn’t fade. “Right?”

“I told you that I’ll join the faith.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and stepped back before motioning for her to go downstairs ahead of him.

His insinuation of doubt had her heart pounding. Was she just having a reasonable amount of trouble adjusting to the Amish ways or was she wavering?

Twenty-Two

Lena wrote the date on the chalkboard, her steady hand drawing long loops out of Monday, January 8. A decade ago, on this same date, Allen had fallen from the barn loft and broken his ankle. The image of looking out the window and seeing Grey fight snowdrifts as he carried her brother to the Kauffman house still remained vivid. He seemed so strong that day.

She shouldn’t be thinking of him, not like this. He stirred her, and she dared to wonder if one day, maybe a year or two from now, he might consider her. She’d witnessed a lot of single men in her days, and not one of them compared to Grey’s quality. And so handsome. He didn’t seem to mind her birthmark, and clearly she had the power to make him smile again. So maybe.

She faced her students in first through fourth grades. “Who can tell me what number could replace the word
January
and means the same thing?”

Elmer held up his hand. Lena pointed to him.

“The number one.”

“Good.” She began writing the different months of the year on the board in random order. With her peripheral view, she could see Peter studying the board. She’d given the older students a different assignment, but he learned best when simply observing the younger ones. She’d used this method a lot without him having a clue. “If we can use the number one in place of the word
January
, what number would we use for the month of June?”

No one answered, but Peter appeared to be thinking.

“If January is number one …,” Lena said.

“June is the sixth month,” Peter scoffed.

“Exactly.” Lena smiled at him briefly. His mocking tone didn’t bother her. He used it as a cover. But his lethargic ways did trouble her. He seemed tired all the time and rarely ate. “Scholars, when you’ve written the name of the month and its corresponding number beside it, please take it to my desk. Peter, would you sit at my desk and check the papers?”

Without even rolling his eyes, Peter moved to her desk. She went to him. Glad for a moment to talk to him quietly where no one else could hear them, she gave him a red pencil. “Lots of smiley faces. Focus on what they get right, and gently correct what they’ve gotten wrong.”

Peter took the pencil from her. “If I have everyone getting this right by the end of today, can I have five points added to my last math test?”

The young man confused her. On one hand he cared about nothing. On the other a few points added to a test actually mattered. “That’s too much unfair pressure for you and them. You’re working with first graders also. Some of them have yet to fully grasp the concept of the twelve months of the year. But if you have the second, third, and fourth graders able to accomplish the goal by Friday, I’ll absolutely give you those points.”

His stone face reflected little, but he nodded.

Lena hesitated. “If you need anything, you can talk to me, or I can contact my friend Samantha for you.”

Peter stared at the pencil in his hand. “Not everyone gives smiley faces or cares what a person got right, only what they got wrong.”

“We can’t live based on naysayers, Peter. We all have value and the right to find as much peace with ourselves and our flaws and weaknesses as possible. Why would forgiveness be so important to God if we didn’t need it all the time? He knew we would need it from Him, but also from us for ourselves and for others. When we get peace with our weakest areas, we’ll find new ways to build on our strongest areas.”

Peter shrugged, but he seemed to like what she’d said.

The day flew by, and soon Lena stood outside the schoolhouse saying good-bye to her students. With freezing temperatures and high winds, she hadn’t been a bit surprised when a parent, neighbor, or relative came to pick up every scholar. Once they were gone, she went back into the classroom and began grading papers. On nice days she took the work with her, but on days like today when she had a roaring fire in the potbelly stove, she liked to hang around until she could bank the embers. Not only did that make leaving less of a fire hazard, but it also made the room warmer in the morning and starting a fire much easier.

Through the frosted windows she saw the hazy shape of a buggy, and a man got out. Her heart thumped a few extra beats as hopes of seeing Grey became her first thought. The front door opened, and she stood. Aaron Blank removed his black felt hat, revealing hair the same color. Concern ran through her. He was a disheveled mess. His hands shook. Dark puffy circles ran under his eyes. And even at a distance he smelled of stale alcohol.

“I … I was talking to Dwayne a few weeks ago. He was griping about what Peter had told him, that you’d brought some psychologist woman in to talk to the scholars. Is that true?”

“Ya, I thought the children needed someone who knew a lot more about grief and trauma than I do. She’s a counselor at the school I attended during my rumschpringe.”

Aaron’s dark brown eyes studied her before he tossed his hat on a desk and walked to the blackboard. “What kind of a person uses their running-around years to attend school?”

“Well, those Englischer kids would say a really dorky one.”

Aaron turned to face her, a gentle smile on his lips. “It doesn’t bother you what others think, does it?”

This unusual visit worried her. He seemed to be looking for answers, and she prayed for the right words. “Sure it bothers me. I just do my best to not let it rule me. It still hurts, every time. In my younger years, it’d sting so much I would cry myself to sleep. I find humor helps a lot and doing things I enjoy, like teaching.”

He ran his hands across the dusty chalkboard and then rubbed his thumb over his fingertips. “You studied during your rumschpringe. Wanna guess what I did during mine?”

She didn’t have to guess. His rumschpringe hadn’t ended yet, because he hadn’t joined the faith. Based on his age, he should have. His running-around years began either before or around the time he and his family moved here from Ohio, almost seven years ago. And based on glimpses she’d caught of his life, he’d gone from being an occasional-weekend teenage drinker to a twenty-four-year-old man who stayed half drunk most of the time.

He moved within inches of her. “I need help, Lena, and I don’t know who else to ask.”

“You came to the right place. The counselor Dwayne told you about is a school psychologist. She can’t help you, but she brought me a list of other counselors in case any of the adults in Dry Lake wanted to talk to someone.” Lena sat in her chair and began looking through the drawers in her desk. “There’s a place called the Better Path, I think.” She found the paper. “Ya, that’s the name. It’s about forty miles from here. I’m not sure who runs it, but she said there’s a Plain Mennonite counselor who’s a young man like yourself, and he comes highly recommended in his field.”

Aaron sat on her desk. “I’ve got to stop drinking, but I can’t imagine how to do that. Daed and Mamm know I drink, but they don’t have any clue how much or how often.”

“I wish I knew what to say. All I know is you need to take care of you. It will hurt when they are forced to accept it, but at least you’re also offering them hope by looking for help.”

“They don’t even know I’d been told about that fence or that Elsie’s death is my fault. If I’d fixed it right when I had the chance …”

His heaviness wrapped around her, but she couldn’t think of anything to say about the bull breaking through. “Aaron, if you can tune out what everyone thinks and feels toward you, can you see your way to finding answers?”

He moved to a window and stared at the back pasture where his sister had died three months ago. “Ya, I … I think I can … with the right help.”

“Then for now, do what you need to for you. When you’re well, you can make it up to them.”

“Well.” He let out a slow, heavy breath. “I haven’t felt well in a really long time.” When he turned to face her, his dark brown eyes were filled with tears. “I’m scared that I’ll never get free.”

“You can’t erase how you’ve spent your rumschpringe or the day Elsie died. But if you win against this need to drink, you can change your future. I know you can.” She wrote down the information about the Better Path and held it out to him.

He took it. “Dwayne said that my Daed came by here this morning before school started. What’d he want?”

She wondered how Dwayne knew about Michael coming here. “He came to let me know that there’s a school board meeting next Monday.”

“Can you imagine how my Daed will feel when he finds out I’d been warned about that bull?”

“Aaron, you thought you’d fixed the fence.”

“Ya, while in some half-drunken state.”

“He doesn’t need to know that. It won’t help anything. Just take care of yourself. I’ll deal with the school board. But if I were you, I’d avoid Dwayne.”

“Dwayne isn’t so bad. He’s a better man than I am. He’s always in control, even when he drinks. He never overdoes it, never gets clobbered.”

She feared his judgment concerning Dwayne would come back to haunt him, but she didn’t think she could convince him. “You have a good heart, Aaron. And if you get sober, I’ll bet you’ll even find it.”

He went to the desk where he’d dropped his hat. “Denki, Lena. You … you’ve always been nice to me. I appreciate that a lot.” Without another word he left.

As Aaron pulled away in his buggy, she hoped he’d do whatever it took to get free of past mistakes.