The Harvest of Grace (20 page)

Cara stood in her bedroom, staring into a mirror, assuring herself she could do this.

Who was she kidding? She couldn’t express regret and pardon to the man who’d abandoned her. Been a mean drunk. Made her mother’s life miserable. Been a no-account father. Shown up here on false pretenses. Then run to Emma and Levi and tattled about her outburst at him. Why was
she
the one who had to apologize?

Her relationship with Ephraim was not the reason she had to meet with Trevor. She’d planned to join the faith back when she mistakenly thought Ephraim loved Anna Mary. So she’d be in this fix whether Ephraim was in the picture or not.

This war raging in her had to be dealt with, but how?

She moved to the side of her bed and knelt. “Dear God, I know it’s wrong, but I
hate
him. And I can’t act my way out of it.”

Memories flew across her mind like stones from a slingshot, one after another, hurting her as if they had just happened. Trevor had been worse than useless when her mother was alive and completely useless once Cara entered foster care. Biting coldness moved inside her. That frozenness used to define her. It didn’t now, but she wasn’t free of it.

“Cara.” Ada tapped on the door before opening it. “They’re here. Ephraim too.”

Cara remained on her knees, unable to move. A tingling sensation ran through her fingers and toes. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Ada closed the door.

Cara’s mind went numb too, but at least the memories had stopped. She remained on her knees, a silent lump of screaming pain. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the edge of the bed. No tears fell as emptiness overshadowed her other emotions. Emptiness and rage were strange bedfellows, but the two went together—at least they did for her as far back as she could remember.

She thought she heard someone knock on the door again, but she wasn’t sure. Too drained to respond, she ignored it and kept her face buried. She didn’t know how much time had passed since Ada had come to her room, but she kept waiting for the strength to apologize to Trevor. Her jaws ached, but she hadn’t yet whispered a prayer.

The door clicked open. Just like when she was a little girl in the homes of strangers, she couldn’t make herself look. She used to keep her eyes shut tight, unwilling to stare into the eyes of people paid to keep her, and tell them good night. She’d lie there, trying to remember what her mother had looked like and hoping to see her in her dreams when she fell asleep.

A warm, strong arm slid around her shoulders.

Ephraim
.

She kept her eyes closed, unable to look at the love or understanding or expectation or disappointment in his eyes. He placed his hand over her folded ones.

“I can’t do it. You weren’t there. You don’t know how he ruined my life.”

He didn’t say anything, but the warmth of his embrace began to ease the ache inside her. She folded her arms on the bed, placed her forehead on her wrists, and wept. His gentle, silent love touched her deeply, and his presence seemed to reach into the wounds of her childhood. He couldn’t touch her past, of course, but he offered her a future filled with love and respect. Suddenly love was tangible, as if she could hold it in her hands, as if it could be shaped and molded at will. And the monstrous ache and hatred of the past could be absorbed into the love he gave her today.

The battle of dealing with anger and resentment at her dad wasn’t over. It had probably just begun. But she felt equipped to fight … and for the first time had hope of eventually winning.

Her tears stopped, and she wiped her wet cheeks. “Thank you.” She rose, opening her eyes.

Shock pierced her, and she gasped.

No one was in the room with her.

S
eventeen

Sylvia walked into the Blank home, knowing she was late for supper. Michael sat at the dinner table, hidden behind a newspaper. Dora stood at the sink, shoulders slumped while she stared at dirty pots and pans. Aaron leaned against the edge of the counter. He seemed irritated, but he offered her a half smile.

Dora pulled a plate of food out of the oven and set it on the table. “Here you go, dear.”

Sylvia moved to the table and took a seat. Michael jerked the newspaper away from his face and folded it. She bowed her head in silence.

After she took a few bites, Sylvia turned to Michael. “Daisy’s gone to the briars in the east pasture. Unless it’s a false alarm, I’m sure she’ll deliver by morning. I’ll sleep in the hayloft tonight. That’s the best place to hear her if she starts bellowing.”

“See?” Michael gestured toward her as he glared at Aaron. “That’s how it’s to be done.”

Sylvia glanced from one to the other, sickened that Michael was using her in his attack on Aaron. Michael had been cold and difficult with his son since he’d arrived home. She’d started out treating Aaron much the same way, but Michael’s hot and cold temper grated on her nerves.

“Daed,”—Aaron took a mug from the cabinet—“this conversation has nothing to do with my farming skills.”

Sylvia looked down and examined the plate before her, wondering what she had interrupted.

“If you’d given heed to what needed to be done over the last eight years and spent less time indulging your whims, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Aaron poured himself a cup of coffee before sitting at the table. “You’ve said that over and over in the last few hours. Can we change the subject?”

“I should’ve known you had someone in Dry Lake.” Michael smacked a palm against the folded newspaper. “Now I understand why you’ve come back. Well, that girlfriend of yours and her child can’t live on this farm. I won’t have it.”

Sylvia felt as if a cow had kicked her.
Girlfriend?

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Aaron said. “She’s a friend who’s lost her job, and if she can’t find another one right away, she’ll lose her trailer in the next couple of weeks. If that plays out, she and AJ will have nowhere to go. I won’t let that happen. She can help out around here. I’ll pay her expenses. And we have an extra bedroom.”

“Where are her own folks?” Dora asked.

“They’re not willing to help her right now.”

“Go figure!” Michael barked.

“Maybe they’re justified, but I won’t let her and AJ go without a home to live in.”

“Is he … yours?” Dora’s hands shook while she held a napkin over her mouth, as if trying to take back the words she’d spoken.

The question rang alarms inside Sylvia. An uncomfortable dusting of jealousy settled over her, but the emotions made no sense. Beyond her own confusing feelings, she knew conceiving a child with an outsider was an unforgivable sin in the sight of many in their community. The mistake couldn’t be hidden or managed. Or even solved by marriage—unless he left the faith altogether.

“Are you more likely to let her stay here if I say yes?” Aaron asked.

“Answer your mother.”

“No. She’s not my girlfriend. Not now. Not before,” Aaron said quietly through gritted teeth. “I have been visiting her since I returned but just as a friend. She needs someone who understands to talk to her.”

Michael’s fists pounded the table. “If you’d been the man you should’ve been, you wouldn’t be friends with that kind of trouble.”

“Keep saying it, Daed, and maybe your yelling will turn back the hands of time, and I can do everything right the second time around.”

Sylvia ached for all Michael couldn’t see. In his blind anger he didn’t trust anything Aaron said. She saw integrity and faults in each man, but what could she possibly say to make a difference between them? Should she remain quiet, as Dora did?

“Look,” Aaron said, “I’m sorry you disagree with me, but Frani needs help. I’m only asking for a little time to try to convince her to go to rehab.”

“Why you?”

The lines on Aaron’s face grew taut. “Because we’re friends. Is that so hard to absorb?” He sighed. “I think she’ll listen to me, so maybe I can make a difference. And, honestly, I feel a little responsible for ignoring her when she used to say she wanted to get sober.”

Sylvia studied Aaron, wondering if he’d always had a good heart in this type of situation or if he’d grown one because of his own journey.

Michael looked at Sylvia and motioned to Aaron. “My son thinks I’m going to fall for his lies all over again just because he’s been here helping for a few days.” He jabbed his finger at the tabletop as he spoke. “I can’t prove what you’re really doing when you
visit
Frani, but I’ve played the fool for you once, Aaron, believing your excuses and lies about where you were and what you were doing. I’m not falling for it twice.”

Aaron slumped, seeming resigned to both his Daed’s anger and his Mamm’s indifference. But if Sylvia knew him at all, his patience was wearing thin, and his ability to curb his typical sharp retorts wouldn’t last much longer. And she didn’t blame him.

“Michael, I know you missed Aaron when he was gone, and yet now that he’s back, you’re angry with him all the time.” Sylvia swallowed hard. “You have me on a pedestal and him in a ditch. Neither image is accurate.”

Michael paused, and for a moment he appeared to waver in his anger. “I’ve talked to your Daed, Sylvia. I know you’d never pull an ounce of what he’s pulled over the years.”

Sylvia drew a breath. “When I was a young teen, I made a decision to handle myself carefully. The preachers spoke at every service about pure living, and my soul latched on to their words when I was very young.” Her insides turned cold, and her hands began to shake. “I didn’t drink or lie or do anything I needed to hide from my parents. I even decided I’d never kiss a man unless I was willing to marry him.” She took a sip of lemonade, hoping to stop her voice from quivering.

Michael nodded. “That’s as it should be. Respectful of your parents.”

“I agree, only that’s not the end of the story. I fell in love, and the young man asked me to marry him. But … he changed his mind, and we never married.”

Her head pounded, and tears threatened. The words felt trapped inside her chest, but she wanted to free them, to give Aaron some relief—and herself. “Unfortunately, the last time I kissed him”—she closed her eyes, wishing there was a way to erase what she’d done—“he was married to someone else.”

She drew a ragged breath, lacking the courage to confess the whole ugly mess of how she’d betrayed her sister. “When I imagine God … I think of Him shaking His fist at me, angry and unforgiving. But I can’t undo what I’ve done.” She cleared her throat, determined not to burst into tears. She stood. “If you’ll excuse me …”

She dashed out of the house, ran across the driveway, and was well into the pasture before she slowed, gasping for air. After walking through the field and across a footbridge to the creek, she came to Daisy’s hiding spot. The cow stood very still, panting. Labor had begun. Sylvia left her alone and walked along the muddy, winding creek.

If Michael shared her revelation with her Daed, the explosive reaction to her sin would ricochet around her forever. But that wouldn’t be the worst part. Beckie learning the truth would be far worse, more than Sylvia could bear to imagine.

Trembling, she returned to the footbridge and sat, watching the creek amble through Blank land and keep right on going. Had she helped Michael see that she was no better than Aaron? Or had she just sealed her own fate? She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, wishing she could erase her image of God as one who was as angry and unforgiving as Michael. She longed to see God the way Aaron saw Him.

Eighteen

Lena hurried around the kitchen, finishing preparations for supper. She’d had another doctor’s appointment. This time they’d replaced her arm cast with a shorter one. Afterward, she’d pursued a new job prospect and gotten so distracted that she’d lost all track of time. Excitement pumped through her.

When the school board had let her go, everything she’d worked so hard to achieve had been taken from her. Now that her name had been cleared, they’d hire her again. But women teachers weren’t to begin a school year if they knew they’d marry during it, so even though her relationship with Grey was a secret for now, she would not reapply for her old position. She could teach and make a difference without being in a classroom.