The Harvest of Grace (6 page)

As his horse ambled toward the Better Path, the sun hung almost directly overhead. Fields were thick with tall, green hay that needed to be cut, dried, and baled for the first time this season. A second and probably a third time were sure to follow.

Farm work
. It never ended. And no matter how hard farmers tried, they never got caught up.

Trying not to dread what lay ahead, he put his horse to pasture and went into the rehab housing unit.

He shoved clothes into his canvas bag. He liked the idea of leaving rehab. He was ready.

Well, maybe he was.

He’d certainly learned a good bit about his addiction and how to manage it.

Alcoholic
. It had taken him months of rehab and counseling to accept that label. Adding the word
recovering
in front of it did nothing to lessen his embarrassment. But he had to face his past, even if his only goal now was to extract himself from it.

Someone tapped on his door.

“Kumm.”

Paul Waddell stepped inside the small room. “Hannah sent you these.” He held up a tin. “It has some of the leftover cookies from last night’s going-away tribute.”

“That’s really nice. Thanks.” Aaron set the canister on the bed before opening his nightstand and taking out the small stack of letters he’d received from Lena.

Lena—probably the only friend he had left or maybe ever had to begin with. She’d been the one who told him about this rehab facility. He hated the choices he’d made that caused him to come here, but checking himself in was the best decision he’d ever made.

Paul closed the door and sat in the reading chair beside the bed. “Today’s the day.”

“Ya.”

He’d never met a man like Paul—a straight shooter, untraditional, and so very patient. In fact, sometimes the breadth of Paul’s tolerance grated on Aaron’s nerves. His wife, Hannah, was still in nursing school, but she kept close tabs on everyone who went through the rehab program and even joined the meetings whenever it was family group session day, which took place once every three to four weeks.

There’d been six family sessions during Aaron’s time here. He’d invited his parents to every one, but they hadn’t come. When they didn’t answer a single letter he’d sent them, Paul sent formal invitations on the Better Path stationery, but he didn’t get a response either.

“How are you faring?” Paul asked.

“Good and bad, I guess.” Aaron moved to the dresser. “The good part is I just signed the papers and put down money on the appliance store.”

“You made a plan and followed through. I’ve seen that strong suit numerous times since you arrived here.”

“Unfortunately, I’m losing valuable training time in order to return to Dry Lake, a place I’m definitely not wanted. I’m aiming to be back mid-August, but as long as I’m in Owl’s Perch and ready to take over the shop by September first, I have nothing to worry about. That gives me at least eight weeks to do what I should be able to accomplish in four.”

“It could be tougher than you expect.”

Daed had always claimed the farm was his dream, but surely he’d had his fill of it by now. Despite how Aaron’s parents felt about him, he was confident they’d jump at selling the old place and join him in becoming merchants in Owl’s Perch. They just needed to warm up to the idea. It would certainly be easier to make a living here.

Aaron put the last of his things into the backpack. He slung the strap over his shoulder and picked up the tin. “I could use a ride to the bus station.”

Wiping sweat from her brow and loosening the top buttons on her shirt, Sylvia moved to the open hayloft doors, hoping to feel even a smidgen of breeze on the hot June day. The Blank farm stretched out before her on all sides, and although fence lines divided one pasture from another, no one else’s property was in sight.

Another two hours of work in this sauna known as a hayloft and she’d have accomplished her goal. Since breakfast she’d tossed, dragged, and toted bales of hay to one side and straw to the other—all in hopes of making it easier to get at whichever one she needed.

What would possess someone to intermix the two so carelessly?

She leaned against the doorframe, studying the beautiful wild flowers and rolling fields where a contented herd grazed.

Her cows
. She didn’t own them, of course, but Michael Blank had hired her to tend to them. He trusted her, and she hadn’t let him down. When she arrived here four months ago, the herd was in dire need of diligent care. The overall health of the cows matched their milk production—poor. But after working endlessly, she had good reasons to bask in her accomplishments.

She wished it were possible to feel joy again, but she didn’t believe she deserved to be happy. Even contentment was beyond reach. She hadn’t been able to resist Elam, and the weight of her sin lay heavily upon her. Finding peace was impossible, even with her new start. She alone was responsible for her actions. She knew it. God knew it.

She shoved her hands into her pockets. Elam’s life went on as it always had, but she’d had to give up everything.

When her Daed realized he couldn’t talk her out of leaving home, he warned her she’d be giving up her portion of the farm and all the money he’d put back as a salary for her over the years. He even said she couldn’t write to her sisters, nor would he allow them to write her.

She had left anyway. No one but Elam would ever know why.

Thoughts of home flooded her. She missed her sisters most of all. Any sense of accomplishment disappeared as heaviness tightened its grip. If she thought it would do any good, she’d pray for relief.

Unfortunately, working like an ox came easier than whispering a simple prayer. In the distance the treetops swayed as the humid air stirred, and she wondered if she’d ever pray again. She had called out to God after her adulterous kiss with her sister’s husband, but all she could manage was to beg for forgiveness. God’s silence bore down on her without relief, and she’d given up praying altogether. She had hope for this farm, but she had no peace inside her, and she missed it.

By the time she milked the cows tonight and tended to the barn, she’d barely be able to lift her feet and walk to her cabin. Freedom to start anew came with a physically exhausting price. If she could sleep at night, it’d help. She would take a long bath before bed tonight, hoping she’d be able to clear her mind and heart.

Soft mews caught her attention, pulling her back to the present. She climbed over several bales of undisturbed straw and shifted a few out of the way before she spotted four young kittens that appeared to be about three weeks old. The mother was nowhere to be seen, but by the look of things, she’d been taking good care of her litter.

Sylvia sat among the bales of hay and pulled the kittens into her lap, stroking each one, hoping to make them more people-friendly than their wild mother. If she had any money, she’d get them fixed and teach them to trust humans. Every barn needed good mice catchers, but a little effort could keep them from being feral hunters.

After several minutes she left the kittens sleeping in the hay and headed for her cabin. It was run-down and small, but each evening as she trudged back to it, the last rays of golden sunlight enveloped it, as if promising that one day the ache inside her would ease.

Until then she found solace in her new home here with Michael and Dora Blank.

Four

Cara studied the Pennsylvania Dutch phrase in the notebook before her, wishing it made sense. The preacher and his wife sat across the kitchen table from her. They’d invited her to come to their home twice a week between now and the end of summer as their gift to help her learn the language. Cara needed to know a little German and a fair amount of Pennsylvania Dutch, and she had serious concerns whether she’d ever get the hang of either of them. But if she didn’t, she had no chance of receiving the church leaders’ approval to marry Ephraim come fall.

“I don’t know.” She closed the book and pushed it away. “Male, female, child, adult, singular, plural—nearly every word changes based on who is being spoken to. I can’t do this.”

Preacher Alvin reopened the book and set it in front of her. He tapped it with his rough hands. “Try again.”

His patience and his confidence in her were comforting. She pulled the notebook closer. Studying the phrase again and comparing it with other words, she finally understood. “So
Gott segen dich
is used when the person is talking to only one other person, and
Gott segen eich
is used when the person is talking to at least two people, right?”

“Gut, Cara.” Esther’s weathered cheeks rose slightly when she smiled. “What do the phrases mean?”

“Both mean ‘God bless you.’ ”

“Wunderbaar.”
Esther had been teaching German to Amish young people for nearly fifteen years, but this was her first time to teach Pennsylvania Dutch. She held up a flashcard. “
Saage es
, Cara.”

“You said, ‘Say it.’ ”

“Gut.”

Cara stared at the image of an infant on the card.
“Bobbeli.”

“Gut.” Esther held up another hand-drawn card, this time of a horse.

Cara tapped her pencil on the table.
“Langsam?”

Esther smiled.
“Letz.”

Wrong
. Cara definitely knew the meaning and pronunciation of that word.

“
Langsam
means ‘slow.’ It could be a slow one of these, I suppose.”

“Horse … Oh,
Gaule.
”

“Gut.” Esther put the cards on the table. “Our time’s up for today. You’re doing fine.”

“
Denki
, Esther.” Cara closed her notebook. “But I know how I’m doing, and
fine
isn’t the word for it.”

“You’re doing your best. That’s all God asks, and He’ll take care of the rest. Just you wait and see.”

One could not be fully accepted into a culture if she or he couldn’t speak and understand a reasonable amount of the language. As with most things Amish, she could see the reasoning behind that belief, but that didn’t make learning the words any easier.

The preacher bowed his head in silent prayer, and she followed his lead.

Peace eased through her. Nearly everything that had happened over the last year had defied logic. Maybe developing the necessary skill in the languages would too. When she came to Dry Lake from the Bronx a year ago, she wanted only one thing—to protect her then seven-year-old daughter from a maniac stalker. But she got so much more. She found Ephraim, a man who’d been willing to do whatever it took to help her. He’d been shunned because of his unrelenting support for her. And in the process, she found God … or He found her. A more mature believer would know which.

Whoever found who, she never would have believed it possible to shake free of her stalker, get out of poverty, and start fresh. The Old Order Amish ways were far from being like a fairy tale, but the love and hope she’d found inside this community had done much to make up for all the years of brokenness.

“Cara?” The preacher’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she opened her eyes.

Alvin rubbed his hand across his mouth, clearly trying to hide his smile. “I said amen … twice.”

Cara headed for the door. “Well, maybe you cut the prayer time too short.” She sounded sassy as she teased, but she knew Alvin and Esther didn’t mind.

“Who’d have ever thought extended silent prayer time would bring such a smile to your face?” Alvin grabbed his straw hat and followed her.

Once outside, Cara saw Ephraim in his buggy, waiting for her. He’d gone through Amish instruction and joined the faith nine years ago. Understanding Ephraim was a little like trying to understand God. There was no logic. It made no sense. But his power to change everything for her was undeniable. How Ephraim had stayed single in a society that put so much stock in marriage also defied her understanding.

His strawberry blond hair peeped out from under his straw hat. His broad shoulders and lean body always caught her eye. One glimpse of him and she found it impossible to keep the pleasure of it off her face.