The Hope of Refuge (33 page)

He pulled a bottle of ibuprofen out of the cupboard. “Cara, Ada has something she’d like to talk to you about.”

She shook her head. “I’m not staying in Dry Lake, no matter what she says. I’m leaving today. I’m going to get a shower and soak my aching head. If I’d known crying gave a person such a headache, I’d not have done it. Great lotta good it did. Everything’s the same, except now my head hurts.”

Ada slowly pushed the package toward Cara. “Levi and Emma brought this by earlier.”

The box looked well kept, yet the yellowed tape that sealed it made it appear quite old. It had no return address, only a name. Trevor Atwater—her father. She angled the box so she could see the faded date stamp. It’d been sent a few days before her birthday ten years ago. She would have been eighteen.

Pushing it away from her, she rose. “Idiot. He leaves me at a bus station and assumes I’m living here ten years later. I’m getting a shower.” She walked off.

“You have family,” Ephraim called out to her.

She turned to face him. “I’ve had family here my whole life. Big fat stinking deal. It made no difference when it could have. And none of them want me here now. Open your eyes, Ephraim. I meant so little to these people that Emma Riehl never called anyone to check on me. Not the police or social services or even the place where my mother worked. They didn’t want to know the truth about where I was, how I was. And I’m sorry for what I know about them. I wish I’d never come here.”

Cara stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door. She flicked on the shower. In spite of her exhaustion, tears trailed down her face. Emma and Levi had cared less about her than Simeon did for those stray pups. It seemed impossible right now to accept that fact, but the pain would fade eventually. She stayed in the shower until the water turned cold. She dried off and slid into the only piece of clean clothing she had—Deborah’s dress. When she came out, Ada was at the stove, loading pancakes onto a plate.

The sight only made her hurt worse. If her father had made contact with Ada instead of Emma, everything would have been different.

Cara walked to the table.

“Ephraim and Lori have gone for a walk by the creek. Lori said they’re going to teach Better Days to be a better dog than his mama and not to knock people into the water.” Ada chuckled. “Wonder who the guinea pig for that will be.” She set the plate of pancakes on the table, clearly offering them to her.

“I’m not hungry. Thanks, anyway.” She picked up the package, walked to the trash can, and threw it in.

“I’m a few years younger than your mother would be. One summer we were hired to work the cornfields, detasseling. You know what that is?”

Cara shook her head.

“The pollen-producing tassel on top of the cornstalk is removed by hand and placed on the ground. It’s really hard work, but the pay is great. We began before sunup, took a short lunch break, and worked until suppertime. Mr. Bierd handled his workers differently than most farmers. He gave each worker a section to get done according to age and height. If you didn’t finish your section by the end of the week, you were given half pay and never hired again. I needed the money bad, but each day I got further behind. The day before time to get paid, your mother realized I was behind. She asked a few others to stay and help, but they were too tired. She stayed with me, and we worked until nearly dawn. That’s the kind of person your mother was, Cara. Over and over again.” Ada went to the trash and pulled out the package. “Don’t be afraid to look.”

The desire to run had never been stronger than at this moment, but Cara took the package from her and forced herself to open it. On top was an envelope. She pulled out the card. In jagged heavy cursive, it wished her a happy eighteenth birthday.

My beautiful daughter, you deserved to grow up with someone as great as your mom. I figured sending you to live with her brother would be the next best thing. I wasn’t much of a dad, or a husband, or a human for that matter. For that, everyone I loved has suffered. I’m winning over the addiction for now. I’m ashamed to even think about how hard and how often your mother tried to help me overcome my dependency.

I’ve sent you a few items, along with a letter explaining the story between your mother and me. I didn’t sweeten it. At times you’ll probably wish it was more gentle, more like how parents should be. But we didn’t start out as parents. We started as two reckless nineteen-year-olds.

If you can find it in your heart to see me, I’ll be staying at the Rustic Inn on West King Street in Shippensburg for a week, beginning on your birthday.

                          Happy Birthday,
                              Dad

She searched through the box, finding photos of her and her mother at various stages of Cara’s infancy and childhood. Until Cara was eight.

Deeper in the box she found a few stuffed animals, a Bible, her birth certificate, and her parents’ marriage license. At the bottom was a stack of letters with Cara’s name written on the envelope of each one. She set them on the table next to her.

The last item was a green spiral-bound notebook with the words “The Book of Cara” scrawled on the outside. The bottom right corner of the cover had her father’s name on it.

Unsure she wanted to know the
unsweetened
story, she laid the book on the table.

“May I?” Ada tapped the birth certificate.

Cara shrugged. “Sure.”

Ada unfolded the document. “This doesn’t make sense.” She pointed to the date of her birth.

“Why not?”

Ada shook her head and opened the marriage certificate. “Something’s wrong. This says your parents were married fifteen months before you were born.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“That means she wasn’t pregnant when she left here. Or if she was, you aren’t that child.”

“So? She wasn’t pregnant when she married my dad. If you’d ever read the entries my mother wrote in my diary, things about honoring God and always trying to do right, that wouldn’t surprise you.”

“Your mother was engaged to an Amish man. He told us she ran off with an Englischer because she was expecting his baby.”

“With the reception I’ve received here, I figured something along those lines. They must’ve had it wrong… or maybe Mama changed after they knew her.”

“The rumors don’t fit the time line. That’s for sure.” She read the dates again, as if triple-checking her facts. “She left so quickly. As far as I know, she didn’t return or write or call or anything until about ten years later when she showed up with you.” Ada waved the papers at her.

“Maybe I’m not the child she was pregnant with when she left here.”

She tapped the book. “I bet the answers are in there.”

Cara laid it to the side. “Later.”

Ada slid her hand under Cara’s, holding it palm to palm. “You know what I think?”

Cara didn’t answer.

“I think you need some mulling-over time. You want out of Dry Lake. Ephraim thinks you should stay. I think we need to find a solution.” She rubbed her neck. “My son, Mahlon, is supposed to be finding me and him a place to live. But he hasn’t really tried. I think he’d like it if I wasn’t living with him. So, instead of hitting him upside the head, I started looking for a place on my own.”

“I didn’t think the Amish believed in violence.”

Oh, honey, nobody
believes
in violence. Some think the outcome justifies it. Amish don’t. I was only joking. Even Amish people joke about things.”

“I guess I don’t really know the Amish, do I?”

“No, and they don’t know you.” She placed a hand on Cara’s back. “Maybe that will change with time. I’ve got an appointment to look at a certain place tomorrow afternoon. I’ve been told it needs a lot of painting and fixing up, but it has plenty of bedrooms, bathrooms, and a huge kitchen. The Realtor says it’s a bit rough, but the owner is interested in exchanging work for rent, which is where you could come in. Mahlon says you’re quite good at painting. Maybe you can live and work there with me.”

“I… I…” Searching for the most respectful way to refuse, Cara fiddled with the edges of the letters.

Ada looked at her as if reading her thoughts. “Just think about it. Okay?”

“You’re very generous. But wouldn’t you get in trouble for that? I mean, Ephraim’s been shunned over his dealings with me. What’d happen if I moved in with you?”

Ada drew a deep breath. “I won’t lie. It might be an issue even though I’m not a single Amish man. You’ve got quite a reputation of being worldly and the bishop’s going to have lots of reservations. But I can work it out. I think.”

“I have money now. And I really think I should leave. I’ve caused enough trouble in everyone’s life.”

She tapped the notebook. “You should read that. Your dad took the time to write it, and it’s been sitting here in Dry Lake for ten years. Seems to me it’s begging to be read.” She stood. “I need to go, and you need to think.” She headed for the door and then paused. “Could I take your birth certificate and your parents’ marriage license with me?”

“Why?”

“I have an idea.” She looked unsure about saying more.

Cara held them out to her. “Sure. Why not?”

The screen door banged shut as Ada left. Cara lifted the spiral-bound notebook and stared at it. She didn’t really want to read it. Not anytime soon. The desire to pack her things and get out of Dry Lake was so strong she thought it might lift her straight off the chair.

But more than any other feeling was the desire to see her parents, if only through the eyes of a man who admitted he struggled with addiction. Torn between curiosity and resentment, she opened the thin cardboard cover.

I met your mother when she was nineteen years old. She was the most striking woman I’d ever seen, with brown eyes and blond hair that she parted down the middle and wore in a bun with the white prayer Kapp. I was an Englischer by her standards, and she was in love with another man. She was more loyal and honest than anyone I’ve ever known, but she wasn’t perfect. Neither of us was. She’d had her heart broken and was desperate to leave Dry Lake, so I took her away from there. She regretted that decision, and I understood, but by then we were married, and neither of us could undo the choices we’d made. I hope—and at times dare to pray—that you found Dry Lake to be as wonderful a place to grow up as she remembered from her childhood.

The words released a lifetime of bottled sentiments, and she closed the book. When she’d longed to feel something besides cold and emptiness during her teen years, this overload wasn’t what she had in mind. Confusion swirled in a dozen directions, pulling at her to believe different things. Desperate to escape before she suffocated under the swell of emotions, she went into the bedroom and stuffed her and Lori’s things into the backpack. Ada’s mothering voice washed over her, making some tiny fragment of Cara wish she could stay.

When she went outside, she heard Ephraim and Lori talking in the hiddy. She walked to the entryway “I’m ready.” His eyes met hers, causing a fresh surge of tormenting feelings. He’d been a good friend in spite of the trouble her presence had caused him. “Will you take me, or do I need to hire a driver?”

He slowly rose, looking disappointed in her decision. “I’ll take you.”

“Where are we going, Mom?”

As Ephraim headed toward the barn, Cara moved to the bench swing and patted the empty place beside her. Lori snuggled against her.

“Are we going to the Garretts’ again?”

“Tell me about your walk.”

Lori shared her excitement over what Ephraim was teaching Better Days. “‘From and me are going to find a home for all the pups next week.”

“Lori, sweetie, it’s been great staying here, but Ephraim needs his home back, and we need to find a place of our own. We have money now, so we’ll find a good place, okay?”

Lori jumped to her feet, fists tight, hurt and anger etched across her tiny body. “No.”

With the backpack on her shoulder, Cara lifted her daughter’s rigid body and toted her out of the hedged area. Ephraim brought the carriage to a stop. Lori arched her back and screamed, causing Cara to nearly drop her as she eased her feet onto the ground.

“Get in the buggy, Lori.”

She ran to Ephraim and grabbed his hand. “No!”

Cara refused to look in Ephraim’s eyes. They said the same thing Lori’s did—that Cara was wrong. “Don’t say no to me again.”

“I won’t go. So there. And I didn’t say the word
no.”

Cara had forgotten how sassy her daughter could be. Lori clung tighter to Ephraim’s hand. “I got ‘From and a dog, and I’m not leaving!”

“One… two…”

Lori began a panicked cry, afraid her mother would reach the number ten. Cara had no idea what was supposed to happen if she reached it. Lori had never disobeyed past the number four.

“Stop.” She held up one hand, still clinging to Ephraim with the other. “There ain’t nobody after us, and I’m not going.”

Cara’s world tilted. Her daughter knew they’d been running from Mike? She looked to Ephraim before sinking to her knees. “All right. I hear you.” She looped her daughter’s hair behind her ears. “Who do you think would be after us, Lorabean?”

“The police. That lady that came here, Ms. Forrester, said they wouldn’t come looking for us.”

Cara’s heart skipped several beats. Lori didn’t know about the stalker after all.

Cara looked to Ephraim, searching for answers he didn’t have.

He placed his hand on Lori’s head. “Take Better Days inside and get him a bowl of water, okay? I need to talk with your mother.”