The next day I slept almost twelve hours. Jonathon and Tom were transported by ambulance to Washington. The paramedics treated Ebbie at the scene.
Along with lots of cuts and bruises, Jonathon suffered a broken arm and three cracked ribs, but he was going to be fine. Tom was recovering from his bullet wound and would be transported to jail once the doctor decided he was ready.
Sunday the church gathered together on the lawn in front of the spot where our building had once stood. Pastor Mendenhall talked about how the enemy had come into our town like a flood, but God had raised a standard against him. He spoke about forgiveness, healing, and peace. We prayed for the men who had terrorized our county. All of Tom’s friends had been rounded up and put in jail. Sheriff Ford had turned in his badge and was being investigated for participating in the attacks as an accessory. We prayed for the sheriff too.
Papa and I visited Jonathon in the hospital. Although Papa still didn’t see eye-to-eye with him in some areas, he recognized Jonathon’s brave attempt to rescue me. He’d driven into town, almost passing out more than once. When he heard me scream, he’d raced to protect me instead of getting the help he needed.
Ebbie, who had been willing to give his life for mine, disappeared. When I asked about him, Pastor Mendenhall explained that Ebbie needed a few days away for fasting and prayer. Pastor assured me Ebbie was fine, he just wanted to spend some time with God. I understood that. God and I had some sessions together as well.
After a lot of prayer and contemplation, I came to the conclusion that two men I cared about had made different choices. One chose a gun and the other didn’t. Both men were brave. Both men were willing to put themselves in danger for me. I loved them both for it, and I was unwilling to judge if one was right and one was wrong. I believed with my whole heart that God understood both choices and that His judgment was full of mercy, love, and grace.
But I did come to one definite decision. After spending time thanking God for his protection, I received the direction I’d been praying for. I finally knew what God wanted me to do. While Jonathon recovered and Ebbie prayed, I sat in the quilt shop and completed the wedding quilt. In the final square I added the name of the man I intended to marry. When it was finished, I folded it and put it in a box, planning to present it to the person whose name I’d stitched into the final square. I’d just put the box under the counter when Papa came in. He’d been over at the saddle and tack store with Herman.
“Daughter, Pastor Mendenhall is on his way here. He’s asked to speak to us.”
I nodded. Although I wasn’t sure what our pastor wanted to say, I imagined he was checking to make sure Papa and I were all right, since we’d both been through a very traumatic experience. Of course, Pastor Mendenhall had too. It had taken him a few days of rest to recover from the smoke he’d inhaled in the fire.
The door opened and the pastor came inside the shop. “Hello, Hope,” he said, smiling. “Your father told you I need to talk to both of you for a few minutes?”
“Yes, Pastor.”
“Why don’t we sit down.” Papa pointed toward the table and chairs in the corner near the front door.
“Thank you. I’m still a little shaky on my feet. Sitting for a while sounds wonderful.”
“Can I get you some lemonade?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No thank you, Hope, but I appreciate it.”
We gathered around the table, and Papa and I waited for our pastor’s words of consolation. But what came out of his mouth was something we couldn’t possibly have prepared ourselves for.
“When I got up this morning, I found a letter shoved under my door at home,” he began. He reached into an inside pocket and took out an envelope, which he put on the table in front of him. “I am not going to read it to you because there are a few things inside I feel I should keep to myself. However, the author of the letter asked me to deliver her message to certain people. That is what I’m doing right now.”
“What do you mean, Pastor?” I said. “Who wrote this letter?”
Pastor Mendenhall touched the envelope with his long fingers. “Sophie Wittenbauer.”
I frowned at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
He smiled at me. “After I explain you still might not understand, but she has some things to say that are important for all of us to know. Even if we cannot comprehend how they could be true.”
Papa and I glanced at each other. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what our beloved pastor was talking about.
“I apologize,” he said. “I am being very cryptic, and I do not mean to be.”
“Why does Sophie need someone to talk for her?” Papa asked. “Where is she?”
“She is gone. Sophie has left Kingdom, and I am not sure she will ever return.”
“She’s gone?” I said. “Where did she go?”
“That I do not know.” He sighed and shook his head. “Our church was not burned down by Tom Ford or any of his . . . companions. It was Sophie who set the fire.”
I gasped. “What? What are you talking about?”
“Sophie was afraid that Jonathon was going to dissolve their association. More than anything in this world, she wanted to feel as if she belonged to something. She got it in her head that if the church caught on fire, we would blame the same people who burned the other churches. She was right, of course. To her way of thinking, if we really believed we were in danger, then the patrols would continue and Jonathon would remain in her life.” He sighed deeply. “She did this in league with Tom Ford. That young man put the idea in her head.”
My mind had gone numb. “Tom Ford? I don’t understand.”
“Tom and Sophie knew each other from school. When Tom saw her in town the day his father brought him here, he knew he could use her to get what he wanted. You. He used her anger at you, and her attraction to Jonathon, and she fell right into the trap. Tom realized she needed to feel important—a part of something. So he convinced her that he needed her. That she was special to him.”
“But . . .” I couldn’t come up with a coherent sentence. In my mind I saw Sophie talking to Tom through the window of the sheriff’s car. Then I thought I saw her again at the fire, hiding from me as I came down the street.
“I know it is hard to believe,” Pastor Mendenhall said.
“Wait a minute,” Papa interjected. “How could Sophie and Tom meet to make plans? Tom did not have free access into Kingdom.”
Pastor shook his head. “No, but nothing kept Sophie from walking across the fields and meeting him out on the road. There may be only one way to drive or ride into Kingdom, but anyone can walk here if they cut through farmland.”
“So Sophie set the fire,” I said. “It’s so hard to believe.”
“Yes, Tom taught her how to do it.”
I frowned. “But Tom hurt Jonathon. Sophie would never have allowed that.”
Pastor sighed. “Sophie’s letter does not explain everything, I am afraid, but I think that the original idea was for Sophie to distract Jonathon or Roger whenever Tom wanted to get into town. Unfortunately—”
“Jonathon forbade Sophie to patrol with him,” I finished.
He nodded. “She had no idea Tom planned to come into town the night he came for you. As you say, she would have never let Tom attack Jonathon. He could have been killed.”
How could this be true? Sophie had risked the pastor’s life and the lives of others because she wanted some attention? Because she wanted to be near Jonathon? Anger flushed through me. “I can’t believe it. Of all the selfish, self-centered things to do—”
“I know, I know,” Pastor Mendenhall said. “The realization that people had been seriously hurt and could have been killed finally made her realize she needed help. She seems to be especially distraught that Jonathon was injured so badly.”
“I thought there was something wrong about that fire,” I said slowly. “The timing seemed wrong. You know, Tom told me he didn’t set the church fire.”
Pastor nodded. “He was telling the truth.” He looked at us kindly. “I know you are having a hard time accepting this. Sophie knew we would. That is why she chose to go away.”
“You could have died, Pastor,” I said, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Ebbie could have died. And Jonathon. And me.”
“Yes, that is true. Thanks be to God for keeping us all safe.”
“Do Sophie’s parents know?” Papa asked.
“Yes. I went there first.” He shook his head. “Sophie’s life has not been easy. Her mother and father are not . . . loving. They seem almost glad to be rid of her.” He paused, and I could see his great compassion for the girl who had almost taken his life through her own carelessness. My emotions swung between sympathy and rage.
“Will they call the police? Sophie’s only seventeen.”
“No, Hope. They will not. Sophie will turn eighteen in a matter of days.” He folded his hands together, almost as if he were getting ready to pray. “I thought very seriously about contacting the authorities myself, but I have decided to give Sophie a chance to change her life.”
Papa cleared his throat. “But how will she get along, Pastor? She has no money.”
“Actually, she does. She went to someone before she left and told them the truth. This person gave her money and helped her to get out of town.” He smiled. “This may sound strange, but I believe Sophie will land on her feet. As I said, there are other things in this letter that I do not feel comfortable sharing. But if she follows through with her intentions, she will be fine.”
There was no need for me to ask who had given Sophie the money she needed. I knew the answer. Lizzie had helped her just as I had helped Lizzie all those years ago. I wondered if one day Sophie would find the road back to Kingdom just as Lizzie had.
“As I said, I had my doubts about the fire,” I repeated, trying to take in the reality of Pastor Mendenhall’s revelations, “but the idea that Sophie was involved never crossed my mind.”
“Sophie had unhealthy feelings for Jonathon,” Pastor Mendenhall continued. “But in the end, she recognized that what she felt for him was not from the Lord. She was afraid that if she did not leave our midst, those urges would continue. In truth, I think her decision was very courageous.”
I stared at him, wondering how he could call Sophie’s actions brave. She’d left our town with the task of rebuilding our church and our shattered emotions. As if reading my mind, he reached over and patted my hand.
“Losing our building has brought us together,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Sometimes, overcoming adversity can make people stronger. I predict that will happen in this instance. Besides, I believe we are reconstructing more than just a building. We are the real church, you know. As we work together, I believe God will use this experience to finally heal the fractures of the past. A new church. A new spirit.”
I loved the analogy and told him so. “Have you told Jonathon about Sophie yet?” I asked.
He shook his head and sighed. “No, and I am not looking forward to it. Jonathon is the kind of person who will try to take the blame for Sophie’s choices. I am praying that I can help him to see clearly that none of this was his fault. He is a virtuous man. A man of passion. Unfortunately, sometimes passion clouds our thinking.” He chuckled. “Jonathon reminds me of the apostle Peter. He was impatient and full of zeal too.”
“Pastor, may I ask why you came to talk to us personally?” I still wasn’t sure why he was sharing Sophie’s letter with us, because Sophie disliked me so intensely.
“First of all, I have no intention of addressing this from the pulpit. I feel that talking one on one to our members might keep them from reacting with anger. But more importantly, I came to you because Sophie asked me to.”
My jaw dropped open. “But . . . but I don’t understand. Sophie hated me. Why would she ask you to speak to me?”
He picked up the envelope on the table and pulled out the letter inside. “There is one part of Sophie’s letter I feel comfortable reading to you.”
He unfolded what looked to be about five or six pages. When he got to the page he wanted, he folded the rest and put them back into the envelope. Then he took his glasses out of his pocket and balanced them on the end of his nose. He peered at me over the top of the lenses. “If you do not mind, I will paraphrase some of what Sophie wrote. She was ashamed of her weakness with the English language and was determined to better her education after she left Kingdom. I would feel more comfortable reading her words as if they were written correctly.”
I nodded my agreement.
He cleared his throat and began to read:
“If you would speak to Hope Kauffman for me, I would appreciate it. She is one of the reasons I found the courage to leave Kingdom. I know she thinks I do not like her, but she is wrong. All I ever wanted was to be just like her. Hope is smart and skilled, able to run a business and have friends. She is loved by everyone. I may never be able to live up to her example, but I intend to try. Maybe if I was more like Hope, Jonathon would have cared for me. Will you please tell her that I am sorry for the way I treated her? All I can do is pray that someday she will forgive me. She has no idea what it is like to wonder what life would be like if you could be someone else, and I have spent my whole life wanting to be Hope. Please let her know that I wish her and Jonathon the best. I know they will be very happy.”
I wiped tears from my eyes. All this time Sophie had been comparing herself to me? If only I’d reached out to her in friendship. Jonathon had been right. I should have tried again.
“Do her words bring you any comfort, Daughter?” Papa studied me with concern.
“Some, Papa,” I said, sniffing. “I just wish I’d tried harder to be her friend. Maybe none of this would have happened.”
Pastor Mendenhall grunted. “No, Hope. Sophie chose her own path. I do not believe you could have made a difference.”
I sighed. “But I will always wish I’d tried harder.”
“The road behind us only leads us the wrong way, Hope,” Pastor Mendenhall said softly. “It’s time everyone in Kingdom start looking to the future.” He put the page he’d read with the others in the envelope. “I am glad I shared this letter with you.” He slid the envelope back into his pocket and stood to his feet. “I must be on my way now. There are others I must visit.”
When I stood up, the pastor reached for my hands. I held them out and he clasped them. “Pray for her, Hope. Keep Sophie in your heart and in your prayers. She is one of ours, and I believe she will come home to us someday.”
“I will certainly pray for her, Pastor,” I said.
He shook hands with Papa and left. His meeting with us had left me feeling a little drained.
“I hope everyone will be as forgiving as our pastor,” Papa said as we stood at the front door and watched Pastor Mendenhall walk across the street. “I am fearful that some folks will not understand.”
“I believe our prayers will help.”
“I am sorry to engage you in another serious conversation, Hope,” Papa said. “But after speaking with Herman, there is something I must say to you.”
The seriousness in his tone made my heart sink. What now? Were the days in my beloved quilt shop coming to an end sooner than I’d anticipated? “What is it, Papa?”
He sat back down at the table, and I joined him. “The past few days have helped me clarify my thoughts in several areas,” he said slowly. “First of all, I realize how close I came to losing you.” He reached out and took my hand. “But as I pondered that, I also became aware that God took care of you, and in the end, you are not really mine to lose. God has given you a life, and that life belongs to Him.” He squeezed my hand and blinked back tears.
“I will always be your loving daughter, Papa. No matter what.”
He smiled. “I know that you love me, Hope. I have tried to keep you close to me because I was afraid. Afraid of losing you like I lost your mother. Unfortunately, my actions were out of fear, not out of faith. It was wrong. You are a mature young woman. Old enough to make your own choices.”
“What are you saying, Papa?”
“I am going to run the saddle and tack store,” he replied, “but you will run the quilt shop yourself. If you want to.”
“Oh, Papa, it would mean so much to me. I love this place. I feel so close to Mama here.”
He let go of my hand and patted my cheek. “I do too. You will do a wonderful job. I have no doubt about it. And if you ever need help, I will be right across the street.”
I leaned over and hugged him. “I will always need my Papa.”
“And I will always need my sweet Hope,” he whispered.
I sat back, took a tissue from a nearby box, and dabbed at my wet eyes. “You said you found clarity in several areas, Papa. Was there something else?”
He sighed deeply. “Yes. When you were in danger, I wasn’t there. I thank God for protecting you, but I saw that there were two other men willing to put themselves in harm’s way to keep you safe when I couldn’t.” He ran his hands over his legs. “These old legs weren’t in any shape to run to your aid. As strange as it sounds, knowing two good men stood in my place helped me to see that you don’t need me to take care of you anymore.”
“But Papa . . .”
He shook his head. “No, Daughter. Not only do I speak the truth, but it brings peace to my mind. One day you will marry, and that man should be the one who stands first in line as your defender.”
“Papa, you said two good men. Are you saying that you’ve changed your mind about Jonathon?”
He smiled. “Once I realized I had to release you to live your own life, I was able to see him through your eyes instead of through my judgmental way of thinking. I have not changed my beliefs, Hope. I still stand by our doctrine of peace to all men. But I realize now that sometimes standing firm in what we believe takes more than words. It may require everything we have—everything we hold dear.”
“Yes, I know,” I said quietly. “I’ve always admired you because you won’t back down from what you think is right. Even when others disagree or when circumstances and emotions make it look like you might be wrong. Real faith is believing God no matter what.” I shook my head. “I’ve seen real courage expressed in the past few days, Papa, by people like you standing unbroken in faith. And I’ve seen the deliverance of God. I know He will stand by His promises, and I am determined to trust Him with all of my life, not just part of it.”
My father nodded. “I believe that too, Daughter. Sometimes walking through the fire burns away the useless things in our lives and refines what is left.” He got up and came over to me, wrapping his arms around me. “And what I see in you is gold, my darling daughter. Pure gold.”
“Thank you, Papa,” I whispered. When he released me, I went to the window and gazed out at our town. “I’ve also come to understand that we will all make choices in our walk with God. Some choices will be right. Some may be wrong. God doesn’t ask us to understand everything. He just asks us to keep our hearts right. In the end, I believe we will be judged only by what we knew and how we responded to it. The things we didn’t understand won’t matter.”
“I know what I believe. I believe I have a very wise daughter.”
“Thank you, Papa.” I turned to look at him. “I finished my wedding quilt, and I intend to give it to someone. Do you want to see the final square?”
Papa gazed at me for a moment, and then he shook his head. “I know whatever name is sewn into the last square is the right one. The man you intend to give the quilt to should see it before I do.”
I stood up and took the box from under the counter. “Will you watch the shop for a while?”
“I would be happy to do that, Daughter.” He smiled. “Go with God, my Hope. I will be praying for you.”
I put the box under my arm and left. After securing it under the carriage seat and waiting for Beau to jump up next to me, I flicked the reins, urging Daisy into the street. Summer was approaching, and the afternoons were growing warmer. Thankfully, a nice breeze cooled the air and kept the ride pleasant.
Finally I reached my destination. I was tying Daisy up to a fence post when I saw him. He was walking from the barn and noticed me watching him. After hesitating a moment, he came over to where I waited. Beau left my side and ran up next to him. He bent down to pet Beau before joining me at the fence.
“It’s good to see you, Hope,” he said slowly, looking surprised. “But why are you here?”
“I brought you something.” I went back to the buggy and took the box out from under the seat. I walked over and handed it to him.
“What is it?”
I smiled. “It’s a wedding quilt. I started it months ago, but I finally completed it today. You probably know that usually the names of the bride and groom are stitched into the final square. I thought you might like to see how I finished it.”
He opened the box and took out the quilt, turning it over until he found the last square. He ran his fingers over the names. “I . . . I don’t understand.”
“I don’t completely understand it either,” I said, “but until recently I’ve never had to really look at myself—or at what I believe. What this town has gone through has helped me to understand some things. Like what faith is and what’s important. Who I am and what God wants for me. I’ve learned that all I have to do is be the person God created me to be. With my strengths and even with my weaknesses.” I sighed. “Papa has always tried to protect me, and in many ways he ran my life. The truth is, I let him do it. It was easier that way. I didn’t have to think for myself or make any decisions that were uncomfortable for me.”
“What’s changed?”
I sighed and looked past him at the green wheat blowing gently in the breeze. “I’ve watched people, good people, struggle in their walk with God. Although I couldn’t figure out exactly who was right and who was wrong, I saw real bravery. Real conviction. In the end I realized that none of us has all the answers, and that’s okay. God doesn’t expect perfection. He just wants us to trust Him. We each have a road to follow. My road may not be another’s, but if we truly love Him, He’ll lead us to the special place He’s prepared for us. I’m ready to trust my instincts and believe God is guiding my steps. I don’t have to know everything, and I don’t have to be right all the time. I just have to take that next step of faith.”
“And what does that have to do with us?”
I gazed into his deep brown eyes. “You were willing to lay down your life for me. When you did that, I saw Jesus in you. And I knew. I knew you were the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”
Ebbie shook his head. “Standing by my beliefs could have cost you your life.”
“I know that. You love me, Ebbie. Really love me. Yet you would have sacrificed yourself—and even me—to stay true to what you believe God wanted. He’s truly first in your heart. That’s the kind of man I can give my life to. The kind of man I can trust to make our lives pleasing to Him. That is, if you’ll have me.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “What about Jonathon?”
“He’s a good man who also did what he thought was right. This isn’t about one of you being better than the other. It never was a contest. This is about finally realizing that you are the man God has for me, and I am the woman He has for you. After you broke up with me I tried to forget about us, but my heart wouldn’t let you go. I know now that it was because God himself had placed you there.”
His eyes flushed with tears. “I feel the same way. But when I thought you were in love with Jonathon—”
“You released me, and you took the blame for our breakup. You would rather paint yourself in a negative light than have the fault fall back on me. I should have realized right then that you loved me with the kind of unselfish love only God could inspire.” I gazed deeply into his eyes. “When you look at me now, Ebbie, what do you see?”
A single tear rolled down his cheek as he nodded. “I see the kind of love that will last a lifetime.”
“Any doubts?”
He frowned. “I may still talk about things you aren’t interested in.”
I laughed. “For some reason, I’ve become very interested in all kinds of topics. Especially ants. Such fascinating creatures. Did you know that ants actually have two stomachs?”
The corners of Ebbie’s mouth twitched. “And where did you learn that?”
“I asked Leah for a book from the school library.”
His quick smile warmed me inside. “Are you sure about this, Hope? I can’t go through another broken engagement. I don’t think my heart could stand it.”
I held out my hand, and he took it. “No more broken engagements, Ebbie.” I ruffled his hair with my other hand.
“You’re messing up my hair.”
“I know, but I like it that way.”
“Have you spoken to Jonathon?”
“Yes. We talked in the hospital. He was hurt but gracious. More than anything, he wanted what was best for me. What would make me happy. In the end, he wished us both well.”
Ebbie took a deep breath and handed me the quilt. Was he rejecting my proposal? Before I could ask his intentions, he got down on one knee and reached once again for my hand. “Hope, I love you. I have loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you. There is no one in this world for me but you. If you marry me, I will always keep God first in our lives, and I will love you forever. Hope Kauffman, will you marry me?”
“Yes, Ebbie Miller. I will marry you. And I will thank God every day that you are my husband.”
I took my hand from his and put the quilt back in its box. Then we stood to our feet, and Ebbie kissed me gently. His kiss felt so right. So natural. When he let me go, we laughed at each other’s tears.
He suddenly grabbed me and turned me around. “Hope, look,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion.
I followed his gaze. Beau stared up sappily at us, his tail wagging so fast I could barely see it.
I leaned my head against Ebbie’s shoulder. “It’s a sign.”
He nodded and kissed the top of my head. Then he reached down and patted Beau. “God has given us beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.”
My heart soared at his words, and I thanked God that I had finally found myself by looking into the deep brown eyes of a man with unkempt hair, a spirit that refused to be broken, and the kind of love in his heart that would bind us together with God for the rest of our lives.