She stared at him.
Though he wanted to stay longer with her, he turned and hurried out before she could refuse it. He cast a glance over his shoulder. What was it he felt for this stranger? Pity? Ja. But there was something more to it. Compassion? Ja. But still more. He continued to mull it over as he approached the wagon, and the impossible truth hit him. Attraction.
How could that be? It certainly wasn’t her appearance. It had been when she’d thanked him and smiled. It had caused his insides to wriggle like a fish trying to get away.
He couldn’t deny it. She was someone he wanted to get to know better, but that would be ill-advised. The best thing to happen would be to never see her again.
Dori. Knowing her real name dispelled some of the mystery about her. He would always think of her as Rainbow Girl though.
He suspected it would be a while before he could shake her from his thoughts.
Something inside Dori ached for the handsome Amish man to stay with her a little longer. He headed out the door and toward his horse and wagon. Eli Hochstetler hadn’t recognized her. Nor had the other Amish man with him. Just as well. She’d worked hard to erase any trace of her former Amish self. Eli made her long for...for... What? Something more. But what was that something? Craig? No. Then what? She stared after his retreating wagon and wanted to call him back.
How weird to see and talk to an Amish person. She hadn’t done so in four years, avoiding them whenever possible.
Eli had surprised her when he bought her—an Englisher—a sandwich. He had always been kind even though a bit rigid and unbending with people’s actions, like his father and her grandfather. The three of them would have plenty to say about all her poor choices. Choices that had been right for her at the time.
He likely had many thoughts about her hair, makeup and clothing. And what had he thought of her piercings? She chuckled to herself. If he had recognized her, no doubt he would have been horrified and wouldn’t have spoken to her at all. She’d thought she’d blown it by calling herself an Englisher, but it seemed to have sailed right by him. She was glad he hadn’t recognized her. This way she could keep this little moment she’d had with him special.
He’d looked so uncomfortable talking to her. It had been kind of cute. Eli had always been appealing. His intense brown eyes still captivated her. She’d almost told him who she was and that she knew him, but she feared it would have put him off, and she’d appreciated his kindness. He would have judged her actions as vulgar and unacceptable, but as an Englisher, anything she did would be viewed as merely an example of their strange ways.
Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of him being repulsed by her if he knew. She desperately didn’t want him to think poorly of her. She wanted him to like her again. What was she thinking? It must be her out of whack hormones.
With her stomach satisfied and the other half of the sandwich tucked inside her backpack, she headed down the street.
After two weeks of morning sickness and fighting with Craig, Dori had packed suitcases with her clothes, books, and various items from around the apartment, and checked herself in at a women’s shelter. How pitiful her life had become.
How could Craig not want his own child?
The following morning at the shelter, she shoved her damp toothbrush into her backpack in preparation to leave for the day. Her hand hit something hard. She gripped the cold, curved metal and pulled it out. At the sight of the iron door knocker, she froze. Even though she had put it there, it surprised her. Why? Because she’d seen and talked to Eli yesterday? He’d created this in his forge. She gripped it hard. The prodigal son story came to mind.
And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father’s have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father—
She sucked in a breath. No, she could never go back there. Would her father even let her return? He might, but her grandfather never would. Amish had a propensity for forgiveness, but her grandfather had quit speaking to her even before she’d left because of her wild ways. If he saw her now, would he even recognize her? Would any of them? Eli hadn’t. She smiled at his sweetness yesterday. Thoughts of returning to the Amish people were Eli’s fault. He’d put the idea in her head.
Dori shoved the iron door knocker back into her backpack.
—and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee.
Boy, had she ever sinned.
Even shunned, as she would be if she returned, the Amish would treat her better than this. They would feed her, give her a clean bed and take care of her, even if she had to eat at a separate table from the rest of her family. Though no one would be allowed to talk to her, she would be provided for. Her child would be treated well and taken care of. Her child wouldn’t go hungry if Dori was forced to remain there for an extended period, nor would it go without clothes or a bed, and it would have a roof over its head. What more did either of them need right now?
She would go back to the community until she could get a job and support herself and her child. Only a temporary solution.
And she would get to see Eli again. That thought made her insides smile.
Later that morning, Dori stood in the buggy-filled yard of her parents’ Amish home.
The shelter manager had told Dori that being homeless was no life for her child. She even specifically said that the Amish community would be a good place for both her and her baby.
Dori doubted that. It was strict and overshadowed by so many rules. Too many to keep track of.
She wanted to run after the car that had dropped her off but instead stood in the midst of the buggies for several minutes, contemplating what to do. The vehicles mocked her, reminding her that she didn’t belong. But somewhere beyond them, inside the house, sat Eli Hochstetler. Had she not run into him and seen the potential for the Amish to treat her with even a small amount of compassion, she doubted she would have come.
She stepped between the buggies, and her breathing came in catches. She didn’t want to go inside and have everyone stare at her. She’d hoped to arrive unnoticed. Just her family would know she had come. Not only would they be surprised but shocked. She couldn’t turn back now. No way did she want to return to the unpredictable women’s homeless shelter. The one thing she could say about the Ordnung rules, they made life here predictable.
She ventured toward the house she’d grown up in and climbed the porch. Sweat broke out on her upper lip. Just look for Eli. He will welcome me. She was sure of it.
Voices rose in a cappella with the words from hymn 131, “Das Loblied,” “Hymn of Praise.” Always the second song.
The words floated back to her like a gentle breeze, and she mouthed the all-too-familiar hymn as she stowed her suitcases at the end of the porch. As though being drawn forward by something outside herself, she moved toward the open doorway. With a deep breath, she slipped inside at the back of the room. Fortunately, everyone was on their feet for singing. Wouldn’t Eli be surprised to see her?
And there he stood in the last row on the far side in the corner. His usual place. He looked in her direction and stared for a moment with wide eyes, probably wondering why she—an Englisher—had invaded an Amish service. He motioned her over and pointed to his place.
Her stomach twisted even more. She shook her head, undeserving to take his seat and preferring to stand by the door for a quick exit if she needed it.
He crossed to her, causing several of the single men who always inhabited the back