The Hope of Refuge (25 page)

Lori pointed at Ephraim. Cara shook her head, but the little girl walked straight to him and sat beside him. “Mom told me not to leave the yard. She’s gonna be so mad at me. Can I stay here?” She whispered the words, glancing to her mother as she spoke.

He saw bits of Cara in her. Smart. Strong willed. Defiant. And alarmingly shrewd.

Cara studied him for a moment, and he gave a nod. Lori probably thought she’d won, but the look in Cara’s eyes said her daughter was in plenty of trouble. The least disruptive course right now was for Lori to stay. Besides, how wrong could it be for a fatherless child to want to sit with a man—to feel the comfort of his presence, the way he had as a child with his own Daed?

Thankfully, whatever the bishop had to say about the shunning would all be spoken in High German or Pennsylvania Dutch. Lori wouldn’t understand a word of it.

Cara left, and Lori crawled into his lap. Her cool skin reminded him that she didn’t own a sweater for the warmer weather of springtime—only an adult-size hoodie that dragged the ground. The dampness from the earlier rain clung to her, and he wrapped the sides of his black coat around her. The shivering soon stopped.

By the time the bishop stepped forward to give his summation of Ephraim’s wrongdoings, Lori was relaxed and peaceful in his arms and the dog at his feet. It was not an image anyone in the room approved of. But as the bishop explained everything to the congregation, Ephraim found Lori’s presence comforting. His district would have to turn their backs on him, but he would not turn his on Cara and Lori.

The bishop asked Ephraim to stand. He shifted Lori to his left arm and stood. She watched, wide-eyed, but she didn’t wiggle to get down. If she’d never been in church before, she might not think that much about what was going on.

The bishop gestured toward him, and from their seats the congregation faced him, each one seeming to stare at him with sadness and confusion.

“Until further notice you will not speak to him or do business with him. I want to encourage you to write him letters, reminding Ephraim of who he is to you and the calling God has placed on his life. Tell him how much you miss him, and share God’s wisdom as you see fit, but there will be no visitations until he removes the woman from his home. Does everyone understand and bear witness to this act?”

“We do.”

The echo of their agreement rang in his ears. He glanced to his father, who had tears in his eyes. The stricken look on Anna Mary’s face bothered him, and he hoped she had the strength to endure the rumors that were sure to circulate after today.

“Then as an act of obedience that we may cause him to submit to the teachings of our forefathers, we begin this journey with great grief, and we will pray for him daily.”

Ephraim remained standing as the bishop prayed. When he said “amen,” the muffled sound of loved ones leaving without a word spoken rocked him to his soul. Anna Mary wept softly, and she didn’t budge until her mother placed her hands on her shoulders and guided her out of the building.

Lori watched the people filing out in stony silence. “What are they doing?”

“The service is over,” Ephraim whispered.

When the place was empty, he sat. Lori leaned her back against his chest, asking nothing.

It was over.

And yet it was the beginning.

His head pounded worse than his heart, but he collected himself as best he could before heading for his house.

As he stepped inside, he heard Cara in the storage room. “Lori Moore, is that you?”

The little girl’s eyes grew large.

Cara came to the doorway, wagging her finger at her daughter. “What did I tell you—”

Ephraim raised his hand. He’d had all the controversy he could stand for one day. “Don’t. Not now.”

Cara raised her eyes to his, clearly ready to challenge him. Understanding flickered through her eyes. “You okay?”

“Ya.” He set Lori’s feet on the floor. “And you obey your mother when she tells you something.”

He’d spoken softly but Lori’s eyes filled with tears. He’d never been so weary of emotions battering like a tempestuous sea. He wondered how Cara had managed to cope all these years. She’d moved from one loss to another—always fighting to survive, always having people turn their backs on her or worse—and yet she did what needed to be done without giving up.

The puppy yelped, wanting inside.

A half smile of understanding tugged at Cara’s lips. “Better Days is yapping to get in. I think you should be the one to open the door.”

She couldn’t know what was going on between him and his people, but she’d picked up on his stress. He drew a relaxing breath. If she could lose everything over and over again, surely he could stand the trial of being shunned for a season without carrying it on his sleeve.

He let the dog in. Then he stepped to the doorway of the storage room. She’d cleaned the whole thing. “Amazing.”

“Yep, that’s me,” she teased, then pointed to rows of boxes along one wall. “You’ll need to go through those, because most of it looks like junk. I’ve sorted the rest and labeled each box.”

He looked through some of the possible rubbish bins. Old shoes, rusted lamps, and broken stuff. “Hey, this is definitely not trash.”

She shrugged. “You still milk cows?”

He laughed, and for the first time in days, stress drained from him. “This has nothing to do with storing fresh milk. Although I guess I can see why you might think so.” He lifted a silver cylinder. “This is an icecream maker, a hand-crank one.”

“Yeah? When’s the last time you used it?”

“Oh no. We’re not cleaning out this room based on a woman’s point of view. It’s my stuff, and it stays if I say so.”

“I’m beginning to see why you’re still single. Women don’t take too kindly to the my way or the highway approach, you know” She shoved a sealed box onto the shelf. “Do people actually make ice cream at home? Or is that one of those things you bought ‘As Seen on TV,’ and it doesn’t really work?”

“Ice-cream makers work. And how do you suppose an Amish man would buy something As Seen on TV’?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Do they make a gas-, fire-, or kerosene-run television?”

Amusement stirred in him. “I’ll get all the right ingredients together and make some. Then you’ll see.”

“Ice cream, hand cranked by a man whose idea of an oven is fire in a hole? As long as I can just see it and not have to taste it, you have a deal.” Her golden brown eyes met his, calling him to enjoy the day and forget whatever weight demanded to be carried.

He longed to search the hidden regions of her heart and take his discovery into his own. Emotions pulled at him, causing feelings they shouldn’t. He hoped his motivations for helping her were as pure as he’d thought. They’d started out that way. And he needed his drive to help her to be based on godliness and that alone. Otherwise everyone’s greatest concern was rock solid.

And he was a fool.

Cara slid most of her breakfast into a bowl and set it aside. She’d take it to the mama dog later. Lori was sprawled on the living room floor, reading and playing with Better Days.

Ephraim was nowhere to be seen. He came each morning in time to drive them to work, showed up at the Howards’ each evening to bring them home, and stayed hidden in between. It’d been four days since that fateful church service, and except for eating a late dinner with Lori last night, he hadn’t joined them for a single meal.

He had a nice home with plenty of food, but in spite of his words, she knew they weren’t welcome here any longer. Since Sunday, when she’d accidentally interrupted the church service, she’d felt him pulling away.

As Ephraim took her to and from work, she’d seen people in their buggies, and they’d seen her. But the friendliest gesture she or Ephraim received was a nod. Like the smell of the musty barn clinging to her clothes, she carried the scent of their dislike throughout each day.

If that was how the rest of them felt, she could easily ignore it. But the opinions of his family and friends seemed to have affected Ephraim. Clearly her friendship with him was dying. She wished she could find a place of her own before he started resenting her.

Knowing they could have been good friends if things were different grieved her. Friendships were like food—each had its own taste, texture, and nutrients. She and Kendal were like a cheap dessert that shouldn’t be eaten often and at its best was only so-so.

But she’d valued Ephraim’s friendship like she’d valued food when starving.

After wiping off the kitchen table and drying her hands, she went into the bedroom. She peeled out of her jeans and sweater top and slid into the teal-colored dress, hating it more each time she had to wear it. She stuffed her dirty clothes into the book bag, planning to wash them at the Howards’ today. The constant use of the clothes they’d left New York in was causing them to fray quickly, but that only made the jeans more comfortable. This weekend she’d walk into town and buy Lori a couple of outfits.

Ephraim knocked, making Better Days start yapping. “You ladies ready?”

Cara slung the backpack on her shoulder and hurried out of the bedroom. “Yeah.” She grabbed the bowl of food. “Can we stop by the barn?”

Ephraim looked from the bowl in her hands to her.

Cara motioned for Lori to go on out to the buggy. Ephraim’s eyes didn’t budge from her as she headed out in front of him. “What?”

“Did you eat anything, or are you giving it all to the mutt?” He picked up Better Days and closed the door behind him.

“I had plenty.”

They climbed into the buggy, and he and Lori began talking about the book she was reading. When he slowed the horse near the barn, he turned to Cara. “I’ll feed the dog from now on. If you cook it, you eat it.”

Ire ran through her, and she jerked her backpack off, took money out of it, and threw it in his lap. “Here. Does that cover it?” Without glancing at him again, she climbed down and went into the barn. The mama dog wagged her tail. Cara knelt, calling to her while taking the foil off the bowl. “I brought you some scrambled eggs.”

About the time the dog was finished, the barn door squeaked open.

Ephraim loomed over her. “I don’t want your money. I want you to eat.”

She stood, realizing how short her five-foot-three stature must look to him. “Have some control issues, do you?”

“I have concern issues.” He took her hand and wrapped his thumb and index finger around her wrist. “You’re losing weight.”

She jerked away. “You have no idea what size I was before.”

“How did your jeans fit when you left New York?”

“What?”

“Going by Englischer style, I’d say they fit snug. Now they must be nearly a size too big. Eat, Cara. Okay? I’ll feed the stupid dog.”

Wondering if the words he said and the words she heard were anywhere near the same, she nodded. When she first met him, he seemed bossy and haughty, so maybe the way she listened was the issue.

“She’s not stupid.” The sentence made her sound like a spoiled child, and she regretted not staying silent.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll feed the highly intelligent dog.”

“I’m not incapable, you know. I can take care of Lori and myself and even feed a stray dog here and there. I know it doesn’t look that way.”

“Mom, help!” Lori’s scream pierced the air, and they both took off running.

Ephraim’s horse, hitched to the rig, trotted into the street, following another horse and buggy. Lori sat on the driver’s bench, staring back at them, wide-eyed with fear. The two people in the first rig looked behind them. Their buggy seemed to slow, causing Ephraim’s horse to do the same.

Lori tried to make her way to the side of the buggy.

“No. Stay there,” Ephraim commanded as he ran toward the runaway horse and buggy. Cara tried to keep up with him, but she fell farther behind every second.

“Lori, grab the reins and pull back on them,” Ephraim instructed as he picked up speed. Cara couldn’t tell if her daughter was following his instructions. The rig in front of Ephraim’s slowed more, causing Ephraim’s horse to follow suit.

Ephraim passed his buggy. He lunged across the base of the horse’s neck and grabbed the reins. Within a few seconds he stopped the horse.

The people in the other buggy slowed, almost stopping as they watched for a moment. When Ephraim gave a nod, they nodded in return and went on their way. Cara kept running for Ephraim’s rig. She could see Lori crying and Ephraim talking to her. She finally caught up and climbed into the buggy. She drew her daughter into her lap. “Why would the horse do that?”

Still breathing hard, Ephraim took a seat on the bench. “That was Mahlon’s rig. Just for fun my horse was trained to follow it. I guess I didn’t set the brake.”

“Why didn’t your friend stop?”

“He slowed his rig in a way that kept my horse from running into the back of his buggy.”

“Yeah?” She motioned toward the moving buggy. “And then he and your sister barely acknowledged us before they kept going.”

“Let it go, Cara.”

Frustrated but unwilling to argue, she rode in silence the rest of the way to the Howards’ place. When she climbed out of the buggy, she muttered a thank-you. He nodded and left.