She held her breath. Would he see her? Of course he would with her hair. How could he miss her? She might as well be wearing a flashing neon sign on her head. But would he recognize her? Would he accept her back? He and the other leaders were hard on young people who indulged too much during Rumspringa or left the faith altogether. Both of which she had done. She’d never planned to return, but here she sat. She wished she’d worn a dark beanie hat to hide her hair.
He was giving one of the three sermons that would be preached by three different men this morning. Though his voice didn’t have the edge to it she remembered, it still grated on her nerves, hearing his years of admonishments echoing in her head.
Please, don’t have him see me. Now she wished she had waited on the porch. She could’ve listened from there just as well.
She glanced up at Eli, who was staring at her, and her heart skipped a beat. He jerked his gaze away and to the front where it should have been. Had he been trying to figure out why an Englisher was here? Or had he recognized her?
She turned her attention to the bishop, who spoke about the woman caught in sin.
Strange. Dori tilted her head. Was that compassion for the woman in his voice? In times past, he would pound the point home that the woman had been caught in sin and would focus on her sin and how wrong she’d been.
His gaze flitted over his flock but kept returning to Dori, and finally, it rested on her. His words halted momentarily. Could he have recognized her? Even with her strange hair and makeup? What would he do now? Single her out as the sinful woman she was?
His eyes softened even more, and his lips pulled up ever so slightly at the corners. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he went on. He thumped his fingertips on his chest when he emphasized that the eldest among the accusers dropped his stone first and walked away. “‘Neither do I condemn thee.’” He spoke the words as though they were just for Dori.
She swore she could see a tear roll down his cheek. Had he changed in the years she’d been gone? She couldn’t imagine that he had. Too much to hope for.
When he was through, he sat in one of the chairs up front off to the side reserved for the church leaders but kept his gaze on her.
She couldn’t tell if he was chastising her for being the biggest sinner of them all or if he was... Dare she hope he forgave her?
It didn’t matter. Even shunned here with the Amish was better than being in the shelter out there, wondering where her next meal would come from. Scared. Alone. She would actually prefer to have people not speak to her rather than face their condemnation.
When the service concluded, Dori remained seated while others filed outside to eat lunch in the late-spring sunshine. People glanced at her on their way past or pretended not to see her at all. Just as well. Dori kept her head down when her parents passed by. Everyone left except Dori, Eli Hochstetler and the bishop.
Eli motioned toward the door and spoke in English. “We eat a meal together. You’re welcome to join us.”
She delighted in his kindness and wanted to savor it. The fact that he was handsome didn’t hurt. His nearness fortified her nerves.
Bishop Bontrager approached and spoke in Deutsch. “I’ll see to this young lady.”
Though Eli appeared reluctant, he gave a nod and left without protest.
She wanted to call back her benefactor. Her champion.
The bishop held out his hands, palms up, continuing in Deutsch. “You’ve come home. At long last.” He had recognized her. What was this welcoming attitude?
“Ja. Ne.” But she was here, and this had once been her home. “Ja.” Dori stared at his hands a moment, then put hers in his. She didn’t know what else to say. Should she come right out and tell him she was going to have a baby? She should tell him, but he seemed genuinely pleased to see her. She didn’t want to destroy that. Didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face when he learned how far she’d fallen. She wanted to bask in the joy and love she felt at this moment. What must he think of her wild appearance?
“You’ve grown up in the years you’ve been away.” He squeezed her hands. “Let’s go tell your vater and mutter you’ve returned.”
Dori pulled free. “Ne. Not out there. Not in front of everyone. I didn’t realize it was service Sunday. I hadn’t even realized it was Sunday at all.”
He pulled his eyebrows down. “You didn’t know it was Sunday?”
She shouldn’t have admitted that. She braced herself for a lecture about going to church.
But instead, he held up a hand. “Wait here, and I’ll bring them to you.” He walked out, but stopped at the door and stared at her. “Welcome home, meine enkelin.” He left.
Was she welcome? Would she be welcomed by her vater and mutter? If the bishop could welcome her, then certainly her parents would. She put one hand on her stomach. But would she still be welcomed when she told them? Even the New Order Amish here in Elkhart County, Indiana, had their limitations of what they would tolerate. She had gone far outside those boundaries.
She should leave. Before the bishop and her parents returned. But how could she escape without being seen? If she left now, where would she go? Return to the shelter? To Craig? He’d made it clear that the only way he’d have her back was if she “got rid of it” as he put it. She caressed her growing stomach. Her baby was a person to be loved and who would love her. Not something to be gotten rid of.
When the door opened, Dori jumped and spun around. She faced her parents.
Bishop Bontrager motioned toward her. “Our Dorcas has come home.”
She cringed at her given name.
Mutter’s face lit up, and she rushed to Dori and hugged her. “You’re home. You’re finally home.”
Dori hugged her in return. She’d missed her. “I’m back.” Sort of. No sense clouding the moment by telling them she didn’t plan to stay.
Vater hung back. “Until the next time she doesn’t like the Ordnung rules.”
Two out of three people happy to see her wasn’t so bad. Or was that three out of four if she counted Eli?
Would she be forced to abide by the Ordnung if her stay was only temporary? Would she follow the rules for the sake of her child? The Ordnung offered a degree of safety and security. Two things she needed most right now. “I will try.” She couldn’t promise anything more than that.
He gave a nod. “Then welcome home.” But his words weren’t filled with cheer or even pleasure, only resignation. “Come eat.”
She couldn’t have pretense and secrets if she was going to live under her vater’s roof. When he found out, it would be worse. “Wait. I have to tell you something first.”
Three sets of questioning eyes stared at her.
Best to get it over with quickly. “I’m going to have a baby.”
Mutter clapped her hands together and put them to her lips. “Our first grandchild.”
Vater glanced around and then narrowed his eyes at her. “Where is your husband?”
The temptation to tell him that her “husband” had died tickled her tongue. He would accept that, and everything would be fine. No one would have any reason to shun her or hate her.
But she couldn’t.
“I have no husband.”
Mutter gasped.
Vater glared. “So this is why