The Hope of Refuge by Cindy Woodsmall Page A

bull’s-eye when arguing. But that didn’t make her right. Stealing was stealing. Ephraim went into the living room. Annie and Simeon were in the middle of a game of checkers.
    “Simeon, do you know the names of those girls you said were in the barn looking at the puppies?”
    “The girl’s name is Lori. I don’t know the mom’s.”
    “The mom’s?” Ephraim plunked into a chair. So his second opinion of her was right. She wasn’t a defiant teen. “The older one is her mother?”
    “Yep. Nice too. Although she’s pretty good at hiding from you.”
    “Hiding where?”
    “In the silo.”
    “Are they living in the barn?”
    He shrugged. “Didn’t ask. But ain’t no one gonna bother those pups with Lori and her mom there.”
    Ephraim ran his finger over his swollen lip. “That , I believe.”
    “Lori wants the solid black male if her mama will let her keep it. Her mom’s really nice. When I complained about Mamm treating me like a baby she said I should be glad I got people who keep me on a short leash, and if I want to live a long, happy life, I better listen to them.”
    He really didn’t want to hear about any of the thief’s alleged qualities. “When did you talk about all this?”
    “The first time I saw her.”
    “When was that?”
    “Saturday morning.”
    His head hurt, making concentrating hard. Maybe she was new to the area. Then why did she look so familiar?

    None of her actions made sense. She’d stolen the dress last night, and tonight she’d hung money on the clothesline to pay for it. Why would she need a dress yesterday and then have money for it tonight? Had she stolen the cash from somewhere? That didn’t make sense. No one used stolen money to pay for something they’d gotten away with stealing in the first place.
    Deciding to pay another visit to the barn, he stood.
    As he walked toward the barn, he noticed that his cornfield had been damaged by someone walking right over the sprouts. Before crossing Levina’s driveway, he saw a thin beam of light. If he went into the barn right now, the woman would make excuses, lie, and disappear. He’d be better off making himself comfortable somewhere and watching. To his left, near the cornfield, lay a fallen tree. He took a seat and waited. A few minutes later someone turned off the flashlight.
    Had they slipped out the back or gone to sleep? He kept watch. About thirty minutes later the woman came out of the barn, wearing her jeans and too-tight top. She leaned against the side of the building for a while, looking rather peaceful under the moonlight. Barefoot, she crossed the road and went to the tree. As she ran her hands across the bark of it, Ephraim felt chills cover him.
    It couldn’t be .
    He leaned forward, watching as she climbed onto the lowest branch, caressed the dip in it, and then rocked back against the trunk. Was it possible?
    She ran her fingers through her short crop of hair and then down the side of her neck.
    “Cara,” he whispered. Part of him wanted to yell her name and run over to see her. It was a foolish thought born from a childhood experience.
    Cara Atwater .
    Twenty years ago they’d spent the better part of a week building a friendship unlike any other he’d ever had. Her tomboy ways had made her more fun than most of the boys his age. Her eagerness to try everything, mixed with her excitement about life, had been permanently etched into his memory.

    When he’d left Dry Lake during his rumschpringe—his time to decide whether to become Amish or not—he’d gone to New York, hoping to find her. He’d lived and worked there for two years. He called the number for every Trevor Atwater, her father’s name, in the book. He watched for her in every park, restaurant, and store. Finally he gave up and moved to South Carolina.
    It might have been fun to reconnect with her back then, but now she’d become her mother’s child—returning with a daughter and obviously with a past that could bring nothing but