The Hope of Refuge (5 page)

While Lori slept, Cara studied each passing town, hoping something would look familiar.

Hours of light mist turned into pelting rain, making it difficult to see the landmarks. Her eyelids ached with heaviness. She blinked hard and sat up straighter, concentrating on each thing they passed.

Spattering drops smacked the window endlessly. She wiped the fog from the glass, studying the water-colored world. As the bus pulled into a Kmart parking lot, the bus driver said, “Shippensburg. Shippensburg, Pennsylvania.”

A peculiar feeling crawled over her. An elderly woman stood and made her way to the front of the bus.

The idea of waking Lori from a safe, dry sleep to enter a rainy, unknown world was ridiculous. She had a few dollars left. Maybe she could pay to ride farther.

“Shippensburg?” The driver looked in the rearview mirror, giving each passenger a chance to get off.

She clutched the armrests, assuring herself any good mother would stay put. When the doors to the bus began to close, Cara jumped to her feet, signaling her intention to get off here.

She stuffed her diary into Lori’s backpack and lifted her sleeping child into her arms. She stopped next to the bus driver. “Any idea how to get to Dry Lake?”

“Follow this road for a few blocks.” He pointed in front of the bus. “When you get to Earl Street, go right. It’ll be about six miles.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s a nice motel straight ahead, Shippen Place Hotel. Only hotel I know of near here.”

“Thanks.” Cold rain stung her face as she stepped off the bus. Since she didn’t have enough money for a fancy hotel, she’d have to find somewhere free to stay for the night.

Lori lifted her head off Cara’s shoulder, instantly whining. “No, Mom. I want to go home.”

“Shh.” Cara eased Lori’s head against her shoulder and placed the backpack against her little girl’s cheek, trying to shield her from the rain. “Listen, kid, you’ve got to trust me. Remember?”

Lori wrapped her little hands around the back of Cara’s neck, whimpering. Within seconds her daughter fell asleep again, deaf to the sound of the rain beating a pattern against her backpack like a tapping on a door.

Through the window behind the kitchen sink, Deborah watched as broad streaks of sunlight broke through the remaining thick clouds. She continued slicing large hunks of stew meat into bite-size pieces—all the while her mind on Mahlon.

Since her birthday the day before yesterday, she and Mahlon had made the rounds throughout the district, telling their family and friends about their plans to marry in the fall. She didn’t think she’d ever had so much fun as they’d had Thursday night, popping into homes to share good news. Nothing would be announced officially until October when the bishop “published” all the couples who were to be married. He’d make a declaration of everyone who would marry that wedding season, but they had to make plans long before then. And she’d ordered an engagement present for Mahlon—one she’d spent a year saving for. She’d give it to him just as soon as her order arrived at the dry goods store.

Her heart raced with anticipation of the coming months. She tossed the freshly cut stew meat into a skillet to brown before she began washing the breakfast dishes. The desire to get done with her morning chores and go to Mahlon’s pushed her to hurry. Beds were made, laundry washed and hung out to dry, and she and Becca had cooked breakfast for the family. The items left on her to-do list grew smaller by the hour. Mahlon had taken off work until after lunchtime today so they could start on their plans, and she didn’t want to waste a minute of it.

Becca walked into the kitchen, carrying a twin on each hip. Her round, rosy cheeks gave her an appearance of sturdy health. As her brown hair gave way to more and more gray and she picked up a few extra pounds with each pregnancy she no longer looked like the much-younger second wife of twelve years ago. She looked like and felt like a mom to a large, ever-growing family.

“How many houses do you and Mahlon have lined up to look at today?” Becca placed Sadie and Sally behind the safety gate of their playroom before moving to the stove.

“There are only two inside Dry Lake. Maybe three, because there’s one that belongs to
Englischers
that might fall inside our district lines.”

She lifted the lid off the meat and stirred it with a spatula. “Ya? Where’s that one?”

“About half a mile from Mahlon’s place.”

“On the right or left?”

“Left. Their last name is Everson.”

She shrugged. “That might be Yoder’s district. If it is, they have their church Sundays on our between Sundays. It’ll make finding time to visit with your family harder. Your Daed won’t like that.”

“Ya, I know. Mahlon’s determined to find a place in Dry Lake, but he said we may have to settle for something in Yoder’s district.”

“Do you like that home more than the others?”

Deborah dried her hands. “It doesn’t matter to me where we live.” She went to the refrigerator and pulled out carrots, onions, and potatoes. “I’d be perfectly content to move into the home where he and Ada live now.”

“It’s small, but it seems like that’d be a great place to start out.” Becca turned the eye to the stove to low, poured a quart of water over the meat, and replaced the lid on the skillet.

Deborah rinsed the carrots and potatoes before placing them on the chopping block. “Ya, but Mahlon says the landlord wants his daughter to live there. He has for nearly a year.”

“Oh, that’s right. I remember now. They rent their place. It was a shame the way Ada had to sell their house after Mahlon’s Daed died.” Becca grabbed a dry dishtowel and began emptying the dish drainer. “The community wanted to keep that from happening, but too many of us were dealing with our own losses. Besides, Ada was determined not to burden anyone.”

While peeling potatoes, Deborah felt old grief wash over her. It didn’t hurt like it used to, but it always stung. Thirteen years ago she lost her mother in the same accident in which Mahlon lost his father. Becca’s husband died too and six others from their community. All in one fatal van accident. The Amish of Dry Lake had hired three Englischer drivers to take them to a wedding in Ohio. They were caravaning when one of the vehicles crashed. No one made it to the wedding. At the time there had been thirty families in their district, and nine of them lost a loved one. It’d taken Deborah years to push past feeling that they were cursed.

Becca placed the last plate in the cabinet. “So, will Ada live with you and Mahlon?”

“Ya. It’s not Mahlon’s favorite plan, but he can’t afford two places, one for us and one for her. I don’t know why the idea bothers him. Ada will be nothing but a blessing all her days.”

“Which will be a lot of days, because she’s young. What, forty-three?”

Deborah nodded.

Becca laid the dishtowel on her shoulder. “It seems odd to me that she’s never remarried, but as long as you don’t mind sharing a home with her, there will be peace in the house.”

“The hardest part of living with Ada will be that both of us love to cook. I’m hoping one of the places has a huge kitchen. And then we can both have a workspace, and we could have some cookoffs, and may the youngest cook win.”

Becca giggled. “Ada better watch out. It seems to me she’s spent years teaching all her best cooking secrets to an ambitious young woman.”

For the first time in quite a while, Deborah recalled her one-time dream of owning an Amish restaurant. But they lived too far away from the flow of tourists for it to be practical. Although Hope Crossing had a more touristy Amish community, her family always needed her to live at home to help out. Besides, she’d been in love with Mahlon since she was ten, and she couldn’t imagine living elsewhere. But his mother gave her a way to do the next best thing—bake desserts for profit. Ada had taught her how to make all sorts of sweets, and together they made baked goods for a bakery that sent a driver to fetch the items three days a week.

“Anytime you need a kitchen to bake in, you’re more than welcome to come here.” One side of Becca’s mouth curved into a smile. “Of course, what’s cooked here stays here.”

Deborah chuckled. “But not for long… before it’s eaten.”

Becca laughed. “Go fetch your horse. Maybe Ephraim will leave the shop long enough to help you hitch it to the carriage.”

“You sure?”

One of the twins started wailing as if she’d pinched a finger or the other one had taken a toy.

Becca glanced into the room before she wagged her finger at Deborah. “You better go while the going is good. Your sister Annie has a good bit to learn to be the kind of help you are, but at fourteen and with you marrying this fall, it’s time she gets more practice, no?”

Deborah nodded. “Mahlon said if the grounds aren’t too wet today, we’ll lay plow to the garden again late this afternoon when he and Ephraim get back from a job.”

“He’s right. What we’ve planted isn’t enough to help provide food for a wedding feast come fall. So while you’re out, go by the dry goods store and pick up more seeds, especially packages of celery and carrots. And buy the crates so we can get seedlings started first. We’ll need a lot more veggies than usual come fall.”

Deborah’s cheeks ached from smiling. “This is simply too exciting.”

Becca’s eyes filled with tears. “Ya, it is. I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am for you. You’ll be missed something fierce, but your Daed and I are really happy for you. I’m surprised you’ve waited this long.”

Deborah wouldn’t tell her that Ephraim had quietly but firmly said they had to wait. At the time, Becca and Daed had six children under the age of thirteen, and the twins were just a couple of months old. With Daed’s health issues, he wasn’t much help.

But Annie would graduate in just a few weeks, so she’d be able to help Becca full-time.

With exhilaration pulsing through her, she headed for the pasture to chase down her horse. Mahlon would be surprised when she arrived more than an hour ahead of schedule.

Before she got to the cattle gate, a wagonload of her girlfriends called to her as they pulled into her driveway: Rachel, Linda, Nancy, Lydia, Frieda, Esther. And Lena. They were talking and laughing softly among themselves while waving to her. Lena’s smile was enough on its own to stir happiness. But her cousin never left anything at just a grin. She loved laughing and making people laugh. The birthmark across her cheek never dampened her spirits, and Deborah thought she was the most beautiful of any of them, but at twenty-three Lena had never had a man ask to take her home from a singing.

Lena brought the rig to a stop. “We came to help you get your chores done.”

“Ya,” Nancy said. “That way there’s no chance of you having to cancel looking at houses with Mahlon.”

“Becca said I’m through for today.”

Raised eyebrows soon gave way to broad smiles.

“Then come on.” Lena motioned. “We’ll take a spin around the block…and play a trick on Anna Mary before we drop you off at Mahlon’s.”

When Deborah climbed into the wagon, Lydia patted a store-bought sack of pebbles. “We’ve got a good plan. And Lena just happens to have some inside information, like the fact that Anna Mary hasn’t had time to repot her indoor plants, but she’s purchased a bag of soil.”

The girls began reminiscing about past pranks they’d pulled on each other. When they arrived near Anna Mary’s, Lena brought the rig to a stop. Two girls stayed with the wagon while the rest of them snuck past the house and to the shed. They took Anna Mary’s bag of potting soil and replaced it with the sack of rocks. Soon they were on their way to Mahlon’s, everyone guessing how long it would be before Anna Mary discovered the switch.

Deborah sat up front with Lena. “If she thinks she bought the wrong stuff, Lena and I should try to go with her to return it. Then one of us can pull another switch while she’s loading other things.”

The girls broke into fresh laughter.

“And yet you look so innocent,” Lena quipped.

Deborah pushed the tie to her prayer
Kapp
behind her shoulder. “Not just me, dear cousin. You do too. It’s how we get away with such antics, ya?”

As Lena turned onto the road that led to Mahlon’s home, Deborah spotted a car coming from the opposite direction. She thought little of it until it pulled onto the side of the road twenty yards from Mahlon’s place. A car door opened, and an Amish man got out. It wasn’t until the man closed the car door and walked around to the driver’s side that she recognized Mahlon. Even at this distance she could tell who it was by the way he carried himself—his slow, easy pace. With all the silly banter and laughter in the wagon, not one of her friends seemed to notice the vehicle or Mahlon. He stood outside the driver’s window talking to whoever was inside. Then he stepped away, waved, and started walking through the field toward his home.

Like watching children performing a play at school, memories of their friendship ran through her mind—years of shared lunches, games at recess, and walks to and from school together. It all began when she’d been in fourth grade and he in sixth.

They’d borne each other’s grief since the day they’d both lost a parent. They had learned to accept their loss together, learned to laugh afresh, and figured out how to trust in life again. Together they’d weathered change after change as they’d gone through their teen years. He’d been in New York City on September 11, 2001, and she’d been the one he shared his trauma with, his confusion and sense of helplessness, his hidden desire for revenge, and his recurring nightmares.