The bishop held out the tip of the measuring tape. “Take it down to that corner of the haus so we can figure out how much lumber to purchase.”
Eli wasn’t sure this was a gut idea, but he was the bishop, so Eli did as instructed.
Andrew Bontrager came around the corner. “What are you doing, Vater?”
“Eli is going to help me build another bedroom onto the haus.”
“What do you need a second bedroom for?”
“I think you know.”
Andrew pointed toward the dawdy haus’s back doorway. “For her?”
“Ja.”
Eli glanced toward the haus. Rainbow Girl stood there with her arms crossed. He hadn’t seen her return to the opening.
“Why bother? She’ll only leave again. Then all the time and materials and work will be for nothing.”
So Andrew didn’t believe she would stay. Did he want her to leave? Did Eli? Ne. He definitely wanted her to stay. Didn’t he?
The bishop held his hands out to his sides. “‘We should...be glad; for this thy brother—’ or sister in this case ‘—was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.’ Where is your forgiveness?”
“Forgiveness is for the repentant. Something she is not.” Andrew spun around and strode away.
Bishop Bontrager gazed toward his enkelin. “He’ll come around, Dorcas.”
“Why’s that? Because he didn’t inherit your stubborn streak?” She disappeared inside.
The following morning, Dori had slept late—well, late for an Amish. She threw back the blanket and sat up on the couch.
It took some doing, but she’d managed to convince the bishop to stay in his room and let her sleep in the living room. She’d slept more soundly than she had in over a month since being kicked out of Craig’s apartment. She had no more worries that anyone would steal her belongings during the night. Sleeping in sweatpants and a T-shirt rather than her jeans and jacket had helped, as well.
The bishop didn’t appear to be anywhere in the haus. Had he already left with Eli? She pictured Eli’s kind face when he’d bought her a sandwich two days ago. Had she missed seeing him this morning?
She heard a sound on the porch, as though something or someone had stepped on a creaky board. With her hand, she pushed aside the blue curtain enough to see out.
Her mutter hurried away from the dawdy haus across the lawn back to the big haus.
What had she been doing here? Had she intended to come for a visit, then changed her mind? Ne. She wouldn’t defy Vater. Then why?
Out of curiosity, Dori opened the front door. On the porch sat a bundle of neatly folded fabrics. She picked up the pile and shut the door.
She spread out the clothes on the couch. Mutter had delivered two cape dresses—one royal blue, the other a medium pink—two aprons—one white and one black—and a white kapp. In the kapp lay several bobby pins. Everything Dori needed to dress the part of an Amish woman. These looked suspiciously like the garments she’d left behind. Mutter was welcoming her home even if Vater wasn’t. She wanted Dori to fit in. To look Amish. To stay.
But Dori didn’t want any of those things. She had been away for several years and had returned in shame. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant and Craig hadn’t thrown her out, she would never have come back. Being destitute and desperate had forced her home.
Home?
Was this home? For the time being, because she had no other option. If only Craig would have accepted their baby. No matter how much she needed her Amish family, this would never be home again.
She fingered the pink dress. Mutter remembered it had been her favorite color as a girl.
Dori wouldn’t feel right wearing Amish clothes. That would give everyone the impression she had come home to stay. Which she hadn’t. She was no more Amish than Craig. Or any Englisher. She hadn’t fitted in before she left and didn’t fit in now. Her vater and the bishop had repeatedly chastised her for one thing or another, trying to make her into a gut Amish woman, but she never could do things quite right, questioned too many of the rules. She’d been a disappointment to everyone. It had been best to leave. For everyone.
Though unwilling to return and no longer Amish, she did need help right now.
She hadn’t expected to have a warm welcome, but she hadn’t expected Vater to scorn her as he had. And she certainly hadn’t expected the bishop, of all people, to take her in. Of anyone, she would have expected him to be the toughest on her, but he was the most welcoming. What had caused his attitude change? If he could show her mercy and grace, maybe there was hope that her vater would soften toward her, as well. Would Eli too? She hoped so.
She took the pile of Amish clothes and tucked them behind the couch’s end table in the corner. She didn’t need the bishop pestering her to wear them.
After taking a gut long shower, she frowned at her brown roots in the mirror. She wouldn’t be touching those up anytime soon.
Overnight, her stomach seemed to have swelled so much that her jeans were no longer big enough to close. She settled for her lime-green sweatpants and an oversize neon orange T-shirt. Definitely not authorized Amish colors, but they fitted over her growing middle.
Now, for breakfast.
A single rinsed bowl with a spoon sat in the bottom of the kitchen sink. It looked as though the bishop had had cold cereal for breakfast. Or had he gone to the big haus?
No matter. She opened cupboards and drawers until she had a spoon, bowl and two boxes of cereal. The first, bran flakes with raisins, and the second, sugarcoated corn flakes. His version of sweetening his cereal. She was glad to see he hadn’t changed in that respect. She mixed the two in her bowl and poured the milk. She’d actually missed this.
When she was a very little girl, from about age six until she was ten or so, she would sneak across the yard to the dawdy haus and eat breakfast with him on Saturday mornings. She laughed to herself. She’d thought no one knew, that it was her and Grossvater’s secret, but Mutter likely watched her skip across the grass, then pretended to be worried over her absence.
Then things began to change. Kathleen Yoder had defied the church leaders and the bishop by leaving the community and attending college. Grossvater had spoken against her actions. He’d pointed a finger in Dori’s face and told her to never do anything like that. His anger had scared her, and she stopped her weekly breakfast treks to sit at his table.
Enough of thinking of things lost. She needed to wash her clothes so she could wear something else tomorrow.
Sometime later, noise from behind the dawdy haus drew her to the door. She opened it.
In the grass stood a wagon full of lumber as well as three young Amish men with the bishop. One was Eli. She allowed herself a moment to savor Eli’s presence, then studied the other two. Who were they? Daniel Burkholder, and the other was...Benjamin Yoder. So the bishop had used his influence to rope in more help. How many more would show up at his request?
Eli hoisted several two-by-fours at once that had to be ten feet long. Smithing had made him quite strong. The other two young men worked together to carry an equal stack. While the bishop carried smaller items like a bag of nails, hand tools and other lightweight things. Eli set