The Bridge of Peace (11 page)

Suddenly feeling unsure about what they might want, she turned to Lori. “You can ride up and down the sidewalk that leads to Ada’s front porch.”

“That’s all? How about from here to the end of the block?”

“Not by yourself.”

“But you can see me the whole way.”

“Nope. You might keep right on going until you’re in the middle of the street.”

Lori started to argue, but Cara splayed her hand as if she was going to start counting. Lori nodded and began riding up the thirty-foot segment that led to Ada’s front porch.

Cara took several breaths, glad not to be chasing that bike around the block. “So what’s on your mind?”

“You’re new to our ways, Cara. And you’ve been doing well. That’s first and foremost to remember, but do you know what today is?”

“You mean aside from it being a between Sunday for those of us in Hope Crossing?”

The bishop shifted. “It is still a Sunday, and you were mowing someone’s grass.”

Her heart raced as she realized they’d come to correct her. “How do you know what I’ve been doing?”

“Someone saw you over an hour ago and came straight to us.”

“Ah, so the Amish system of accountability depends greatly on tattletales.”

The bishop scratched his beard, not looking even slightly perturbed at her retort. “Let’s keep this friendly, Cara. You’ve made a couple of mistakes. That’s all. If it helps, the person who told isn’t Amish.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

He shrugged, looking sympathetic. “People and motives are hard to figure, but we came as soon as we heard, in hopes of stopping you from doing anything else that might cause trouble for you.”

“But I wasn’t making any money, and mowing a yard isn’t any more tiring than those boys playing baseball or volleyball on Sunday afternoons. That’s allowed, right?”

“Ya, in the afternoon after they’ve had time to reflect on God,” the preacher said.

Unable to accept their stance, Cara put one hand on her hip. Frustration circled round and round. “You’re splitting hairs.”

“It’s our way not to work on Sunday. Surely Ephraim’s shared that with you.”

She did seem to remember him saying something about that. “Women fix food on Sundays, don’t they?”

“We do as much preparation as possible on Saturdays, but fixing meals is allowed.” The bishop’s tone changed from one of explaining to one of slight frustration.

She squelched her irritation by counting. It was then that she realized what he meant by stopping her “from doing anything else that might cause trouble.” If she hoped to be allowed to go through instruction starting late spring, she needed to stay in good standing with the church. They’d come over immediately to keep her from messing up her future plans. “Okay, fine. I won’t do anything like this again.”

“Good. And I … uh … well, when you talk to Ephraim, mention to him the type of lawn mower you used.” He gave a nod as if they were ready to leave.

“Wait. Are you saying part of the reason you’re here is because I used the wrong kind of mower?”

“I know how it probably sounds to you, but next time you mow grass, use a reel mower, not a gasoline-powered one.”

Tinges of embarrassment began to mix with her anger. “But we use gas stoves.”

“Natural gas is allowed to come into our homes through a propane tank. We don’t use gasoline-powered anything—not cars, tractors, or lawn mowers.”

“Well, Amish certainly ride in gas-powered vehicles.”

“Sparingly so is the goal. Another, stricter goal is to avoid hiring a driver on a Sunday. The exceptions to that are situations like the one Ada is in, a widow wanting to return to her home community on church Sundays, or Ephraim, who catches a ride with a friend. Once we allow our people the right to hire a driver for absolute necessities, like medical needs or making a living, we do little to control what else a driver is hired for. We try to leave that up to their good judgment. But to hold on to our ways, we do not operate gas-powered machines ourselves.”

As annoyance tried to get the best of her, she thought of Ephraim. Anything she said or did reflected on him. He’d withstood a shunning for her sake, and he deserved better than her arguing with the church leaders. “I’ll use a reel mower next time.”

A genuine smile began in the bishop’s eyes and spread to his mouth. “Good. Very good. I’m pleased to have this kind of talk with you.”

The preacher turned to the bishop and made a motion. The bishop shook his head.

She glanced from one bearded man to the other. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

The preacher turned to the bishop. “The longer you allow it, the more we look like hypocrites.”

The bishop shook his head, and she could only guess he didn’t want to say whatever the preacher wanted said.

“Well?” Her tone could cause frostbite, but she didn’t care.

“Bicycles are forbidden,” the preacher said.

The skin on her face burned. Finally, after years of poverty, she’d been able to give Lori something she wanted, something really, really nice. “What?” She crossed her arms. “No way. I’m not asking her to give that up.”

“It’s the way it is for members and their children. You have no choice.”

She stared at the man. “Oh, there’s always a choice.”

“It’s forbidden.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s just too stinking bad. This conversation is over.”

Deborah closed her eyes during the final prayer of the service, willing answers to come about how to make Ada’s House a success. She’d sat through three sermons given by different men and the congregational songs she loved so dearly, all the while searching for solutions. The constant hunt had kept her up half the night, but she didn’t have one new idea to show for it.

The service ended soon after the last song, and within minutes the home was a buzz of noisy activity as the hosts and many helpers began preparing for the after-service meal. Some of the adults held a quick discussion as to where they’d set up. The heat of summer was gone, and this early-October day seemed to be begging to be enjoyed, so Deborah hoped they’d decide to eat outdoors.

Jonathan held one end of a bench and Ephraim the other, waiting on directions.

“Let’s set up outside,” Rueben said.

The men quickly moved the wooden benches through the kitchen and out the front door. They would alter the underpinnings on half the benches, making those seats into tables. She helped the women hosts get the tables set and food laid out family style—homemade breads, sliced cheese, ham, cheese spread, peanut butter spread, pickles, red beets, and seasoned pretzels, along with some raw veggies and a few fruits.

Soon Rueben had the ministers seated as well as the oldest men in the district. While they began eating, Deborah helped the Lantz women set a table for the oldest women in the district. As soon as the group who’d been seated first was finished, women swooped in and cleaned off the tables. Deborah and Anna Mary washed rounds of dishes while fresh bread and cheese were sliced and the makings for sandwiches were placed for the next group to eat. Just as the married men and women sat separately during church and the meal, the single men sat separated from the single women, but later tonight the singles would attend a singing. After they’d sung the good-bye song, they would mingle at will while eating.

Deborah and Anna Mary stayed busy helping. Finally it was time for them to stop washing dishes and eat. Deborah dried her hands and passed the towel to her friend. A look passed between them, and she knew that neither of them enjoyed these Sunday mealtimes as they once had. She and Anna Mary used to feel that the after-service meal was a romantic lead-up to the Sunday night singings. They’d steal looks at their beaus, who sat at a nearby table, and share a smile or a nod. But that was over for both of them. Anna Mary had rarely caught Ephraim’s attention during these times anyway, but Mahlon had always been attentive to Deborah, or at least he’d pretended to be.

Even after all Mahlon had dragged her through, she still couldn’t make herself believe the depth of his deceit. He’d lived a double life, and the most awful thing about it was that Deborah had believed she knew him, understood him. They’d grown up together. Attended the same school. Spent their Sundays—

Jonathan’s hazel eyes met hers, bringing her previous thoughts to a full stop. His pale blond hair hung below his straw hat, and his black suit fit snugly across his wide shoulders, making her wonder if he’d accidently worn one of his brother’s jackets. What was the man doing watching her—setting her up for a prank? Lena had probably told him about the cake Deborah had given her, and now the two of them were plotting against her. He’d always treated her like a mix between a good friend and a kid sister, both of which made her easy prey for pranks and teasing.

When she and Anna Mary drew closer to the table, Lena waved for them to sit next to her. She sat next to Lena, but while she ate, her thoughts returned to Ada’s House. What could she do to make it a success? Preoccupied with her search for answers, she quietly nibbled on her food.

Against the tradition of keeping to the men’s table, Jonathan straddled the bench beside her. When she glanced around, she realized people were starting to leave for home. The official church time and its customary ways were over, so he was free to shift into a more relaxed mode. Jonathan and Lena chatted, but Deborah couldn’t stop trying to figure out a solution for Ada’s House. There had to be one. What was she overlooking?

Lena poked Deborah’s side, making her look up. Deborah’s Daed stood beside the table, and he must’ve said something, because he and several other men standing with him were seemingly waiting for an answer.

“He’s glad you came,” Jonathan mumbled while pouring ice water into her cup.

She nodded at her Daed. “Me too, Daed. You should come visit us in Hope Crossing and go to Sunday meetings with us when you’re up to it.”

Her father smiled. Those few moments were very important. With other men around him, her Daed had stopped to acknowledge his pleasure with her, even though she was single and had moved out of his home and into another community. He’d given her a seal of approval during a church gathering in front of everyone. For her not to notice when he spoke would have been an insult. When he and the men walked off, she relaxed. Jonathan and Lena laughed softly.

“What are you two laughing at? It’s not my fault my mind was elsewhere.”

“Nope, it was your Daed’s,” Jonathan heckled.

On impulse she picked up her cup and tried to dump the contents on him. She leaned back just as he knocked it out of her hand, and they ended up dousing Lena.

Lena wiped her wet face and slung water at them. “Denki.”

Deborah pointed at Jonathan, and he pointed at her, each blaming the other. Lena grabbed a napkin and soaked up some of the moisture from her dress.

Grey passed by, holding an empty glass with one hand and Ivan’s hand with the other. “Taking showers after you’ve dressed for the day again, Lennie?”

“I keep forgetting which one comes first,” Lena retorted. She raised an eyebrow at Deborah while trying to hide her smile. “Jonathan helps you save face, and you two do this to me? Some friends you guys are.”

Deborah watched as Grey stopped near a small group of men and started talking. She’d seen him and Elsie come in really late. Elsie had shed a few tears during the service, and Deborah had said a silent prayer for them. They’d been married six years and had one child. That wasn’t the norm for an Amish family, but no one asked them any questions. Since they’d buried a son, she was sure no one ever would ask—not even Grey’s or Elsie’s friends, siblings, or parents.

Ephraim moved closer. “I’d like to go to Hope Crossing as soon as we can. Robbie’s coming by my place in just a little bit.”

“Ada and me hoped to stay here longer than that.”

Ephraim grabbed several clean napkins that were a few feet away and passed them to Lena. “If Ada wants to stay longer, Robbie can take her home later this afternoon. But I want as much time with Cara as I can get before the workweek starts again.”

Deborah was sure he’d rather have skipped service and spent his morning with Cara. Next Sunday was a between one for Dry Lake but not for Hope Crossing. Deborah, Ada, and Cara would need to attend the service in Hope Crossing next week. Courting was always easier when both people lived in the same church district. Then they were free to spend every other Sunday visiting all day. “I’ll let Ada know.”

Ephraim left.

“Listen, Deborah,” Jonathan said, “I have a horse I can loan you. He’s young, about two and a half years, and a little too inexperienced to wait for long periods while harnessed and tethered somewhere, but he’ll be perfect for what you need until Rosie is ready to return to work.”

“You didn’t mention anything about having an extra horse yesterday. How do you have one now?”

“Because I’m magical.” He splayed his hands, moving them around in circles as if he were a magician. “Or because the man who owns him owes me money he can’t pay, so I’m borrowing his horse for a spell.”

“You’re holding the man’s horse hostage?”

“It’s called bartering. You need to understand that concept, because if you use that horse, I want desserts. Lots of them.”