The Hope of Refuge (40 page)

“No. Although I see why it could look that way. Mahlon’s been odd since the day we lost so many members in the car wreck, his Daed among them. He got worse after being in New York the day the Twin Towers fell. Deborah says he felt the earth shake, saw the smoke rise, and heard the screams of those trapped inside. His mother had been in the towers the day before. The experience did something to him.”

“That would affect anyone.”

“Deborah has loved him since she was a child.” He sighed. “I have no idea what this might do to her.”

Cara stood. “You need to go home tonight, ‘From, and start acting like the Amish man you are.”

He stayed on the log, looking up at her. “Ya. I know.”

When he rose, mere inches separated them. Regardless of the Amish stance against electrical energy, it ran unrestricted between them.

Afraid to keep lingering, she turned away and started walking. But she wasn’t ready to go back to Ada’s. Tonight was all they had, and so they’d walk.

Ephraim stayed beside her, saying nothing for a long time. Finally he cleared his throat. “Since I didn’t leave with Robbie, I’ll use Ada’s horse to get back to Dry Lake. I’ll put the mare in the pasture, and tomorrow Israel Kauffman or Grey or someone will recognize her, realize I borrowed her, and see to it she’s returned to Ada by tomorrow night.” She appreciated his effort to make small talk. “How can you know all that?”

“Too many years of experience among my people.” His half smile looked more sad than happy but she knew he was right—the Amish were
his
people.

Deborah sat on the floor of Mahlon’s bedroom, too weary to cry anymore. She held his shirt to her face, breathing in his aroma. Except for the occasional headlights of passing cars, darkness surrounded her. She kept telling herself to light a kerosene lamp or walk back home, but she continued to sit here hour after hour, trying to make sense of it all and figure out a way to fix it.

She longed to hear from him, to know he was safe. But if something hadn’t kept him, if he hadn’t been in an accident of some sort… if he’d chosen to leave like this… she wasn’t sure she wanted to know that. And yet, not to know the truth meant living in limbo every second of every day. She couldn’t stand that either. So she’d prayed until she was sick of it, but she kept praying anyway.

Israel Kauffman and Mahlon’s cousin Jonathan had come here with her long before dark. She’d emptied his dresser, footlocker, and night-stands. They’d dismantled his bed and moved all the heavy furniture. She’d asked them to go on home and let her pack his huge, messy closet on her own. They’d taken the grandfather clock with them, so she didn’t know what time it was. But it didn’t matter. It was somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow.

The closet was empty, and boxes were scattered throughout the room. Her prayers had changed shape and purpose since four days ago, when he should have come home and didn’t. But her feelings had not altered. She was scared, and more than that she felt like a fool. Who lets a loved one go off without knowing where or how to reach him? Who lets someone talk in jumbled circles without insisting he make sense?

Car lights shone on the wall, but rather than moving around the room as they did when a vehicle passed the house, they stayed in one spot. Then they disappeared. She got up from the floor and moved to the window. Through the blackness of night, she saw a car parked on the shoulder of the road a hundred feet or so from the house. A light came on inside the car, and the door opened.

Mahlon!

She wanted to scream his name and run to see him, but neither her voice nor her body would obey her. He moved to the side of the car and leaned against it. Staring out at the field, he lit a match, and soon she saw smoke circle around him. A man got out of the drivers side and sat on the hood of the vehicle. They just stayed there, smoking and talking as if nothing mattered—not her pain or worry or anything.

Another vehicle headed toward them. Mahlon glanced at it before tossing his cigarette to the ground. He walked to the cattle gate, opened it, and called for his horse. A truck with a trailer attached to it pulled up beside the car. While Mahlon harnessed his horse, his friend opened the tailgate of the trailer. After the horse was loaded, the driver of the truck held something out the window. Mahlon went to the man, took whatever it was, and stepped away before the man left.

He stayed in the middle of the road, looking at the place where he’d grown up. As she stood there too bewildered to move, realization bore down on her like a merciless drought. She longed for a man she clearly didn’t know. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t put together the pieces of her childhood love and the lonely stranger she was now watching.

He was safe. But her heart broke anyway.

The man she’d willingly give herself to had no intentions of returning to her. Somehow she was seeing what he couldn’t tell her—as if she was meant to be here, meant to see the truth for herself When he got into the car, she ran down the steps, out the back door, and toward the road.

As the car came toward her, she waved her arms. “Mahlon, wait!”

Mahlon looked straight at her, but the car kept going.

“Mahlon!” she screamed as loud as she could.

The brake lights glowed bright red, and then small white lights shined as the car backed up. It stopped. When Mahlon opened the door, she saw Eric in his military uniform. Mahlon got out and closed the door, but Eric didn’t drive off.

“Why?” She choked on her tears.

He studied her as he’d done a thousand times before, but his face was a mixture of uncertainty and hardness. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” she yelled. “I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked for an explanation.”

He shook his head and held out an envelope. “I was going to leave this in your mailbox. It’s for you and Mamm.”

Wondering what could possibly end the twisting confusion inside her, she snatched it from him and looked inside.

“Money?” She gasped. “You’re leaving me, and you’re going to fix it by giving me money?”

He stepped toward her, his hands reaching for her shoulders, but she took a step back. “I can’t do this, Deb.”

“Can’t do what?”

He said nothing, but she saw a tear trail down his face.

“You have someone else?”

“Never, not in a million years. I swear that to you.”

“Then why?”

“I joined the faith, but not all of me did. Parts did, slivers too small to find most days. You were all that held me here, and finally I know that I can’t live like this.”

His words were short, and she should understand them, but her mind couldn’t grab on to any of it. “I…I believed you. All this time I thought you really loved me. But you don’t, do you? Why? Why can’t you love me like I do you?”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Deb.”

“You’re the one doing this! And what about your mother? You’re her only child. She gave up everything to raise you.”

“That’s what parents do.”

“You promised to always be here for her, and now you do this?”

“She’ll be fine. She’s already proved that. And eventually you will too. But I never will—not if I stay.”

Deborah’s legs shook, and she feared she might fall over. “This can’t be. It just can’t.”

“Take the money. I’ll send more when I can.”

She thrust the money toward him. “I don’t need anything from you, Mahlon Stoltzfus. Absolutely nothing ever again!”

He closed his eyes, and fresh tears fell onto his cheeks. When he turned to get into the car, she threw the envelope at him, and money scattered everywhere. She left it there and hurried down the road, glad her home was in the opposite direction from the way his vehicle was headed.

“Deb, I’m sorry!” Mahlon yelled, but she refused to turn back.

Unable to see for the tears, she kept running until her legs and lungs were burning. She thought she might pass out, but she refused to stop.

The sound of hoofbeats came from in front of her. Dizzy and confused, she couldn’t make out who got off the horse that stopped somewhere ahead of her. Then Ephraim filled her view.

When he tried to reach for her, she shoved him away. “He was here, and he… he left.” She sobbed. “Why, Ephraim? He doesn’t love me. Why doesn’t he love me?”

Her brother stepped forward. When he placed his arms around her, she was too weak to lash out. She melted into his arms and wept.

Cara looked at herself in the mirror, wondering if wearing the Amish dress and apron was a matter of respect or hypocrisy. Although she hated the style, she loved the teal color. It seemed a shame to cover most of it with a black apron, but Ada thought she should wear both to Dry Lake today. The purpose of the apron was to hide a woman’s curves. Thing was, she had no problem showing her figure. She was petite but well built. It was part of who she was, so why hide it?

People were so odd—not just the Amish, but people in general.

Some men paid big chunks of their salary to see half-naked women or prostitutes, while others lived in celibacy, hoping God would bring them the right woman. Some women did anything for fun or money, while others denied all temptations to remain loyal to men they didn’t even like. Most people fell between those two points. Right now she’d like to know where she landed on that imaginary line. Had she become more of a teal-dress girl than a short-top, bare-belly one?

If there was a God, was he ever confused by the choices people made? Or disappointed? It seemed to her that even among the most religious, there was error that caused division and hurt as much as any sin did.

Ada came to the doorway. “You look nice.”

“I feel like a bag lady.”

Ada’s eyes reflected a deep sadness, but she smiled anyway. “Would you rather stand out for men and women who only want to please their eyes or for those who see beyond this life into the next?”

Cara shrugged. “Jeans are comfortable.”

“I’d guess men’s flannel pajamas and clown suits are comfortable too. When you’re willing to wear those in public day in and day out, I’ll believe your rationalization about those tight-fitting clothes you wear.”

By an act of determination, Cara didn’t roll her eyes. “I’d rather live free and make my own choices than be told what to wear.”

Ada stepped inside the room and motioned for Cara to turn around. She adjusted the apron ties. “We all submit to something. Athletes submit to the rules of their game. Lawyers and judges submit to the laws. The highest court in the land submits to the Constitution. Even the most rebellious person is submitting to something, usually the darkest part of their sin nature. The Amish choose to submit to the Ordnung in order to be strong against desires that want no boundaries. The preachers, deacons, and bishops help us keep those written and unwritten rules. If you don’t want to submit to that, you don’t have to, but don’t believe that you’re free.” Ada’s voice cracked, and when Cara turned to face her, she saw tears in her eyes. “No one is, Cara. And those who think they are just haven’t thought about it long enough.”

Cara constantly balked at Ada’s explanations about anything Amish. Maybe she’d gone too far. “Is something wrong?”

Ada pulled an envelope out of the bib of her apron. “This had been pushed through the mail slot of the front door when I woke this morning.” Ada passed it to her, then went to the window and stared out.

Cara read the writing scrawled on the front.
Mamm, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m not coming back. I’m sorry. Take care of yourself, and help Deborah to forgive me. Love, Mahlon

The words twisted inside her. At times the endless rules seemed enough to run anyone off And yet, for most, their way of life came with an undeniable strength against all that the world sought to steal—a person’s soul, family, and faith.

She didn’t have to believe in God to know that her soul could be trampled on and that right and wrong existed. So why would someone like Mahlon give up the power of the good parts to get free of the weakness of the bad parts? It was a little like what Ada said about everyone submitting to something. Everyway of life had frustrations and error.

Ada sat on the bed, looking hurt beyond description. “He sent a letter earlier this week that made me think this might be coming, but I kept praying it wouldn’t. I did my best raising Mahlon. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t put real effort into being a good Mamm and a positive influence.”