The Bridge of Peace (19 page)

“She shifted, looking a little nervous as she answered, ‘Did you check in your dresser?’ And I said, ‘Ya.’ And she said, ‘Look in your closet, and maybe in the dirty clothes basket.’

“I searched through everything quickly, grabbed what I could find, and headed out the door. I walked outside, whistling like a man without a care.”

She breathed a whispery laugh. “Then what happened?”

“Everyone in the buggy broke into laughter as I came outside wearing my pressed shirt, suspenders, dress shoes, Sunday jacket and hat … but no pants.”

Elsie’s breaths came in short, rapid spurts, but she smiled at the memory.

Grey wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, taking several deep breaths in hopes he could finish the story. “Then I looked up and saw that you and your family were passing the house, walking to church.”

Her breathing came in shallow gasps. “Tell more.”

“Then I tipped my hat at you as if nothing unusual was going on. You screamed and covered your eyes.”

“Later … your Mamm s … s … said.”

He pulled Elsie closer, trying to warm her. “Well my Mamm looked you up before the service to try to reassure you that wasn’t a normal event in Dry Lake. She thought you and your family were visitors, but then we learned your Daed was trying to buy the old Englischer farmstead up the road a piece and was thinking about moving here from Ohio. She told you that I was keeping things light so no one would be mad at her about me not having pants and that I didn’t usually run around in my boxers.”

“M … m … more.”

“Your eyes met mine, and you told me later that’s when you knew you wanted to marry me. You wanted a man who … who …” Heaviness settled into his chest as he realized how badly he’d let her down all these years. “Had two good senses—ya, that’s what you said—the sense to be himself and the sense to laugh instead of get mad. And I told you that when a person has chicken legs like I do, they have to have a sense of humor. And because you’d seen those scrappy legs and still weren’t running away, I said you must be the right girl.”

She swallowed. “You … find your good senses … again, Grey. You find them and don’t let go.”

“I will. You’ll help me, right?” He placed his hand on her cheek, staring into her eyes. But as he held her, light faded from them, making her look … “Elsie!” He placed his hand on her neck, looking for a pulse. She had one, barely. “Elsie, listen to me.”

Her body became heavier against him, but she didn’t respond to his voice. Without looking at him again and without even a gasp or twitch, she exhaled. And never took another breath.

Sixteen

Inside the barn, Cara painted a strip of wainscot lying across sawhorses. She swayed to the music coming from her battery-operated radio.

“’From!” Lori squealed as she ran out of the barn, Better Days yapping at her heels.

In Hope Crossing on a Monday afternoon?
Cara turned. Ephraim was on foot, which meant Robbie must have dropped him off out front. Lori ran to him and jumped into his arms. Rather than his usual quick swing of her body into the air as he shared a bit of banter, he pulled her close, one hand embracing her head as all movement halted. He kissed her head and set her feet on the ground.

When he stopped in the doorway of the barn, his focus didn’t budge from Cara. Realizing the radio was not acceptable, she went to the bale of hay where it sat and turned it off. He said nothing.

Cara shrugged. “I … I just wanted to hear some familiar tunes.”

“Mama’s been dancin’.”

“Just a little,” Cara added quickly. “There’s good news, though. I didn’t set up my work station in the yard like I’d wanted to on this gorgeous day, so no one but Lori heard the music or saw me.”

“I tried tellin’ her not to, ’From. She never listens to me.”

Cara found Lori’s exasperation with her cute, but Ephraim’s face held emotions she’d not seen before. Had she taxed his patience too much?

“I … I’m not a member, so music is okay until I begin my instruction, right?”

Without answering, he walked to her and pulled her into a hug. He held her in a way he never had before. His warm embrace renewed her spirits even more than the beautiful October day.

“I had to see you, had to feel you in my arms.” His deep voice sounded different today.

Lori squeezed between them. “Yuck.” She put a hand on each of them and pushed them away from each other.

Ephraim playfully nudged her back before kissing Cara gently on the cheek.

“I’ll say it again. Yuck.” Lori hurried out of the barn.

“Hey,” Ephraim called to her. “Run inside and tell Ada we’re going for a long walk.”

“Yes!” Lori whispered loudly. “You want me to grab our picnic blanket?”

“Ya.”

“And make some sandwiches?”

“Ya.” Ephraim’s eyes never moved from Cara, and she knew he’d come to tell her something.

“What kind?”

Cara snapped her fingers. “Lori, just go.”

Lori put her hands on her hips. “I was just asking ’From, Mom.”

“Mind your tone, Lori,” Ephraim corrected her.

Lori lowered her hands, looking hurt. She walked into the barn and wrapped her arms around Cara’s waist. “Sorry.”

Cara bent and kissed the top of her head. “Forgiven. Now take off.”

Without asking anything else, Lori and Better Days ran through the backyard and into the house.

Ephraim moved to the radio and picked it up. He turned it around as if inspecting it. “You’re finding it harder to give up the Englischer ways rather than easier.”

It wasn’t a question, so she decided not to respond. Of course it was hard. She missed having electricity and her choice of clothing, but of late those preferences seemed a lot easier to give up than music and television. The new fall season of shows had been going for a couple of weeks now, and she didn’t even know if
Survivor
was still in the lineup. She’d never owned a television, but the restaurant where she’d worked had them hanging from the ceilings. And today while listening to a rock station, she’d heard half a dozen new songs—good ones.

He set the radio back down on the bale of hay. “I don’t care about bikes or music or you dancing. When I lived among Englischers those few years, I could see how tough it’d be to live Amish if one hadn’t been raised that way.” He moved to her. “But the longer it takes you to accept our ways, the more likely it is that church leaders won’t think you’re ready to join the faith, and then it’ll be even longer before we can marry.” Ephraim slowly brought his face to hers, as if letting all of her—her mind, will, heart, and body—awaken to what he was trying to tell her. He kissed her long and slow. “And I want to marry you … as soon as possible.”

When he released her, she could barely think. “I … I didn’t think Amish … had feelings like that. I thought they … you were too practical.”

Ephraim backed away, drawing a deep breath. “What you don’t understand about people of faith is sort of baffling.” He took her hand into his. “I’ve got some bad news. Grey’s wife died this afternoon. Attacked by a bull. She had massive internal injuries.”

“Ephraim, I’m so sorry. Do I know her?”

He shook his head. “Elsie was a quiet woman who avoided gatherings as much as possible and kept to herself even when she attended church. But Grey is … bad right now.” Ephraim reflected a sadness that made Cara hurt for him. “The whole community is. The schoolchildren saw the incident.”

“What? That’s horrible. I … I …” She wrapped her arms around him, aching for the children and their parents.

“The bull belonged to Elsie’s brother Aaron. Aaron got his hunting rifle and shot the bull—again and again and again. Elsie died before the ambulance arrived, but Grey rode with her to the hospital. Friends and family hired a driver so they could meet him there. He and Elsie have one child, a five-year-old son, who doesn’t know yet. Grey will tell him when he returns to Dry Lake, but I imagine Grey has forms and reports to fill out, so that will be hours from now. It’s bad, Cara.”

They tightened their hold on each other.

“I know you’re not at ease in Dry Lake, running into your estranged relatives and all, but I’d like for you to come stay for a few days. You and Lori and Ada can stay at my place, and I’ll stay at the shop.”

“Ada and Deborah have a business to run.”

“They’ll close their doors for a few days, as will most Amish businesses in and around Dry Lake.”

“Stop all business?” The idea sounded bizarre. People took time off from work, as little time as possible, but life never slowed. When her husband died, one of the most painful realities was that life never paused. New York didn’t care. The restaurant he’d once managed had replaced him when he could no longer work, and on the day he died, she received a two-week notice to move out of the apartment that belonged to the owners of the restaurant. “Okay, I’ll come … and try my best not to embarrass you.”

“I’m going to keep saying it until you believe me. I will never feel that way. Not ever.” He took her by the hand, and they began walking toward the house. He hollered for Lori.

She stuck her head out the back door. “Be there in a minute. Jonathan’s helping me make sandwiches.”

Cara shielded her eyes from the sunlight. “Jonathan’s here?”

“Ya.”

They walked back into the barn. Ephraim sat on a bale of hay and picked up the radio. “He came with me to tell Deborah and Ada. The driver will take them on to Dry Lake as soon as Deborah and Ada are packed. I imagine Lena needs Deborah about now.”

“Why’s Lena taking it so hard? Oh, you said the schoolchildren saw, and she’s their teacher.” Grief settled over Cara, and she began to understand how interwoven the Amish were.

“When one of the schoolboys arrived at the shop to use the phone and told me what had happened, I’d hoped it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. I went to the school and learned that Elsie had died, and I felt sick for Grey and Ivan. But something else happened inside me. Something I’d never experienced before.”

“What?”

He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Over the years if someone died and I was seeing a girl, the news sobered my thinking. Every time. Beyond the sadness I’d think about the girl and know she wasn’t who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if that day was my last day on earth, I was ready to walk away. Something about death made it clear. I … I always felt so shallow when that happened. Those types of events cause people to want to hold on to who they have. Today when the news hit, I felt vulnerable, and I needed you, longed to hold you and talk to you.” He squeezed her hand. “I had to see you, to make sure you and Lori were safe, to reassure myself we will become a family.” He stared at the radio.

“Then you arrived, and I’m … sneaking around and hanging on to some of my former ways.”

“You’re you, Cara. I don’t want you to be anyone else, and we can be imperfect together, but it seems as if you own more of me than I do, and … yet other things possess your heart. I understand it, but it scares me. I need
you
, but what do you need?”

Wishing she could snap her fingers and change for him, she tugged on his hand, leading him out of the barn. “I’ll adjust to living the Old Ways … I will.”

Seventeen

Lena woke, startled from her nightmare. More exhausted than when she went to bed, she longed for her thoughts to settle. All she could do was doze and jerk awake after another dreadful dream. She kept reliving the trauma she’d witnessed less than sixteen hours ago.

What must the children be going through?

She pushed off the covers and sat upright. Grief weighed heavy, making her head spin.

And what about Grey?

He’d begun yesterday with a wife, his family intact, and a good road ahead of him. Today he was missing half of himself.

All night she’d dreamed of Elsie teetering on the edge of a rocky cliff and of Grey running to grab her. Instead they both plummeted. Elsie died instantly. Grey lay at the bottom of the gorge—broken, bloody, but unable to pass from this life to the next.

Nausea returned. She went to the window and opened it. Cold air rushed in. Nicky stretched and moaned, wagging her tail a few times before going back to sleep. Lena glanced through the open doorway, seeing Deborah in the adjoining bedroom, motionless under the quilts. A hired driver had brought two Amish families here from Ohio late last night, families Lena had never met before. They were friends of Elsie’s family from Ohio, but Elsie’s parents’ home couldn’t house any more people.