bus could carry her to Indianapolis, but it was expensive and took more than a day to get there. Then she’d have to find a way to reach Flourish, a full hour-and-a-half drive northeast of Indianapolis. Another expense. She couldn’t do it. “I wish I could, Caleb. I really do. I can’t afford it, though.”
“Ja, I understand. Why don’t you get your own car now that you’re an Englischer?”
She was sure he meant to tease, but a hard note underscored his light words. “Cars cost a lot of money, Caleb.”
“So do our buggies.”
Kenzie gave a slow nod. Caleb was right. Horses and buggies cost dearly.
“But with a car, you can go to far places. Farther than in a buggy, for sure. Englischers with their cars have freedom.”
Kenzie’s freedom didn’t come from being an Englischer, and it wouldn’t come from owning a car. “Caleb, freedom, real freedom, is found when—”
“Daed is waving at me through the milking room window. I better go see what he needs.”
Disappointment struck hard, but Kenzie knew better than to argue. If Daed needed Caleb, he had to go. “All right. It was good to talk to you. Please give everyone my love. I’ll try to call again soon.”
“All right. Mach’s gut.”
Kenzie repeated the common farewell, then carried the phone to the charger and plugged it in. She stood staring at the little piece of technology she’d never dreamed of owning when she was growing up. Caleb seemed to believe having worldly things would make him happier. They’d definitely made her life easier, but her joy was found in something much more important and permanent than a cell phone or an automobile.
Caleb had been a little boy of twelve when she’d left home. The two oldest Hochstetler boys, Trenton and Tim, were already married by then, and Tim and Stephanie were the parents of two little boys. Over the years she’d been away, the family had grown, adding sisters-in-law and nieces and nephews. And she didn’t know any of them. She really didn’t even know her brothers that well anymore.
“Mamm keeps your room ready, just in case.” Caleb’s words played over in her mind. Kenzie sank down at the table and put her head in her hands. Dear God, I think I want to go home.
Bradleyville
Jase
Jase adjusted the knot of his tie. He always dressed neatly for Sunday morning service—trousers or a pressed pair of khakis and a nice polo or Hawaiian-inspired button-down shirt—but he rarely wore a dress shirt. But today was Easter, and the day’s meaning inspired a greater reverence and formality than a typical Sunday. So white button-down shirt, black trousers, and his one and only tie.
He leaned close to the bathroom mirror and inspected his cheeks. His skin still looked blotchy from the razor marks defining his short beard, but the ruddiness would probably be gone by the time Sunday school began at nine thirty. He hoped so. With his reddish hair and red stripes on his tie, he had enough of the color on display. He ran his hand down the length of the smooth fabric. The red and black stripes made him think of sin and the blood Jesus shed to cover it.
A lump filled his throat. Sinless Jesus had shed His blood for him, a cast-aside urchin whose own parents hadn’t thought enough of him to feed and dress him appropriately. He hung his head and closed his eyes, offering a silent prayer of gratitude. There were a lot of things he still questioned about God and His ways, but his confusion and, yes, his bitterness toward the Father couldn’t erase his appreciation for the sacrifice the Son had made for him.
He whispered “Amen” and glanced at the clock. A quarter till nine. Early, but not too early. He was teaching the youth Sunday school class for the first time, and he wanted plenty of time to get comfortable in the room before the kids arrived.
As he walked the short distance from his apartment to the church building, he went over in his head the instructions he intended to give at the close of their lesson. Last Sunday morning, he’d noticed the high school kids sat in a group on the west side of the sanctuary in the front pews near the hallway door. The bathrooms were across the hall on the other side of the door, and there’d been a steady flow of traffic back and forth throughout the service. If it had distracted him, it