Inescapable (Road to Kingdom Book #1) Read online

  “But why?” A frown darkened her heart-shaped face. Although Charity looked very much like me, with curly black hair and dark brown eyes, I could certainly see Clay in her too. Clay’s coloring was lighter than hers, but he was clearly displayed in the tilt of her head, her turned-up nose, and the widow’s peak that framed her face.

  “He . . . he had to go away a long time ago, Cherry Bear. I don’t think we’ll ever see him again.”

  She locked eyes with mine in the mirror. “Is he dead, Mama? Missy said my daddy was probably dead just like her daddy that got killed in the war.”

  So she’d been talking about her father at school. I felt a sense of shame, knowing I should have addressed the subject long ago, but I had been afraid, unsure how to explain my failure to provide her the kind of family she should have had.

  “I’m sure he’s not dead, honey.”

  Her frown deepened. “But how do you know?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. That’s just what I think.” I screwed up a smile. “Let’s not worry about it anymore right now. Okay? We’ll talk more about it after we get ho . . . after we get to Kingdom.”

  She nodded slowly, but I could tell I hadn’t satisfied her curiosity. How would I ever be able to clarify it for her? Would she be ashamed of me too? The disgrace and humility I’d felt in Kingdom washed over me, and I almost pulled over. What was I doing? I was twenty-three years old. Someone who should have her life on track. Why was I going back to a place I’d promised to never set foot in again? Would there be a friendly face anywhere in the entire town? A moment ago I’d almost called Kingdom home. But it wasn’t home. Not by a long shot. What if we were run out of town? Not allowed to even enter the place I’d grown up? I hadn’t considered such a possibility until that moment. How would something like that affect Charity?

  “Mama, I don’t have any friends in Kingdom, do I?” I almost didn’t hear her, she spoke so softly. Her question made my heart ache. I didn’t know how to answer her.

  “Not yet, Cherry Bear. But once people meet you, you’ll make lots of friends.” Was that true? Had I just lied to her?

  Charity was quiet for a minute or two. I kept checking the rearview mirror, watching her face. She was obviously thinking hard about the situation. Finally she looked at me, our eyes making contact in the mirror again. “Who are your friends, Mama? Maybe they’ll like me too.”

  Feeling a sense of panic, I tried to recall some of the residents in Kingdom who had been kind to me. Funny, but I’d spent so much effort the last five years purposely not thinking about the small Mennonite town, that pulling up memories now was rather difficult. Memories buried beneath years of pain and repression began to drift into my mind like tendrils of smoke released from a candle that had just been blown out.

  “Well, let’s see. There’s Hope Kauffman. She makes beautiful quilts.” Hope ran Kingdom Quilts. Her shop sold finished quilts and quilted pieces fashioned by the female residents of Kingdom. She also offered lessons to young women who needed to learn how to succeed at the age-old craft perfected by our Amish and Mennonite ancestors.

  “I like quilts,” Charity said happily. “Tell me something else about her.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like does she have a daddy?”

  The daddy question again. I stifled a sigh of frustration. “Yes, she has a daddy. His name is Samuel.”

  “Is he a nice daddy?”

  I wanted to tell her that he was certainly nicer than my daddy, but I didn’t. “Yes, he’s a nice daddy.” Actually, Samuel was a good father, although just like most of the men in Kingdom, he was serious about his religion. At least Hope never had to gain the favor of the church to work in the shop, since Samuel oversaw the daily business. Samuel had kept a tight rein on his beautiful daughter in many ways, yet she’d had freedoms most of the other women in Kingdom didn’t enjoy.

  “Do you like Hope Kau . . . Kau . . .”

  “Kauffman,” I finished for her. “And yes, I like her very much. She was a very good friend to me.” I’d been in awe of Hope, since she was occasionally allowed to travel alone to a fabric store in Washington, Kansas, for supplies. Usually, only the men drove buggies past the borders of town. If women wanted to go, they would ride with their husbands. But once a month, Hope would hitch up their horse, Daisy, and ride out of town by herself. I liked to watch her go, pretending I was in the buggy, traveling away from the place that held so much misery.

  And then, one day, it was me. Hope saw my distress and the unkind way my father treated me after Charity was born, and she agreed to help me get away. I had waited in a grove of trees near the edge of town, holding my child, a cloth bag containing a few clothes, and a little money my mother had kept hidden in a jar in her kitchen. Hope picked me up and drove me to Washington, where she helped me buy a bus ticket. It took several bus rides to get to Kansas City.

  The Salvation Army took us in, and the kind staff there gave me a job cleaning and cooking for the women housed at the shelter. They also helped me get my GED and find my first apartment. I worked at Betty’s Café for a while, but then Sylvia met me and changed my life, teaching me how to use a computer and training me to be her administrative assistant at Harbor House.

  Hot tears pricked at my eyelids. Maybe someday I’d get the chance to thank Sylvia and let her know I was okay. I couldn’t believe she would suspect for a minute that I’d taken that money. But even as I tried to reassure myself about Sylvia’s faith in me, doubt nagged at my mind, making me feel sick inside.

  “How much longer, Mama?” Charity’s words were slurred, and she could barely keep her eyes open. She’d be asleep before long.

  “Just a little while, Cherry Bear. I’ll let you know when we get close.”

  She blinked several times and nodded. Soon I could hear her quiet little snores. The sound brought me peace while the tires pounded out a steady rhythm against the road. Thankfully, the car seemed to be running well. If I still prayed, I would have been praying with all my might that it would get us to Kingdom without breaking down.

  As I drove, more and more people from Kingdom began to flood my mind. Good people. It slowly became apparent that my father’s unkindness had flooded out quite a few positive memories.

  I tried to find something on the radio to keep my mind occupied. I searched for music that would soothe the apprehension building inside me, but stations were becoming faint and full of static. A sign we were approaching Kingdom. The modern world was beginning to fade away. Once again, I considered turning back. But the desire to protect my daughter drew me—along with some strange force that compelled me to keep going. If I hadn’t walked away from the church, I’d have thought it was God’s leading. But my father had made it crystal clear that God doesn’t listen to people like me. Sinners. I’d been told that over and over as a child. And I’d tried so hard to be good. To be worthy of His love. Eventually I gave up. It was evident I’d never be perfect enough for my earthly father or my heavenly Father. Some people seemed born to always be on the outside looking in. If this was my destiny, I might as well embrace it. Fighting against it had proven useless.

  Finally, I saw the turnoff that would eventually lead me to the only road that led to Kingdom. A little over an hour later I reached the city limits of Washington. I first met Clay there, at school, although we didn’t really get to know each other until after my father made me quit school after eighth grade. The thought of Clay brought a familiar deep aching pain that had lived inside me ever since he’d abandoned me and his daughter. I quickly pushed him out of my mind. That was a door I was determined to keep closed for good.

  Pulling off the main road, I parked in front of a popular local deli. My father never knew that some of the “Kingdom kids,” as we were called, left the school grounds during lunch and bought sandwiches there if we had money. I’d usually share a sandwich with Mary Yoder, a girl my age whose father was a lot like mine. Mary was a quiet child who did everything she was asked to do but without
ever showing a spark of enthusiasm. Going to the deli was the one rebellious thing she ever did, and it was also the only time I ever saw her smile. As soon as she took a bite of that forbidden meatball sub, her expression changed and her blue eyes twinkled.

  Unfortunately, before the year was over, I lost my sandwich partner. Someone tattled on us, and her father pulled her out of school for good. I’d still see her around Kingdom and in church, but she never spoke to me again. I was certain she was forbidden to have anything to do with me, since I’d been her partner in crime. I never saw another smile on her face.

  I turned off the engine and checked out the deli. It looked exactly the same as it had back then—as if frozen in time. I turned around to check on Charity. She was still asleep, so I called her name softly. Her eyes fluttered open. At first she was drowsy, but when I told her we were stopping to eat, she sat up straight in her booster seat.

  “Do they have cheeseburgers, Mama?” she asked, clutching her doll.

  “I don’t think so, honey. But they make the best sandwiches I’ve ever tasted.” A look of disappointment flashed across her face. “But you know what? Their meatball sandwich is a lot like a cheeseburger. I think you’ll like it.”

  With this encouragement, she smiled. “Can I have a pop too?”

  “Yes, you can have a pop too.”

  Her happiness restored, we got out of the car and went inside. It felt good to stretch my legs. The pain in my hip had lessened, had turned from a deep ache to a small twinge, confirming my belief that there wasn’t any serious damage. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  There were a couple of tables open, so we grabbed one. The shop’s only waitress hurried over and cleaned off the tabletop while I ordered two meatball sandwiches. About ten minutes later, Charity and I were happily munching away. The sub was as good as I’d remembered. The sliced meatballs were spicy and covered with thick red sauce. And the cheese was gooey and rich.

  “This is the best cheeseburger I ever ate,” Charity said, shaking her head. “I want all my cheeseburgers like this forever, Mama.”

  Her comment brought laughter from a family seated at a nearby table, as well as from our waitress. “How about some more?” she asked, motioning to our almost empty glasses.

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  She picked up our glasses and walked away, returning a couple of minutes later with refills. “You folks aren’t from around here, are you?” she asked. She looked to be about my age, her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.

  “No . . . Well, I used to be. It’s been a long time since I’ve been back.”

  “You used to live in Washington?”

  I shook my head. “I lived in . . . Kingdom.”

  “Kingdom kids, Kingdom kids. Watch ’em as they flip their lids.” The taunts of some of the schoolchildren came back to me. Especially those who liked to rip the bonnets and hats from our heads. I watched the waitress’s face for a sign of rejection. There wasn’t one.

  “Kingdom. Heard of it, but I don’t know much about it.” She smiled at Charity and me. “Hope you two have a real nice reunion.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling relieved. As she walked away I reminded myself that I wasn’t a child anymore. I was an adult who didn’t have to worry about what other people thought. So why were nervous butterflies slamming into each other in my stomach?

  We finished our lunch, and I paid the tab, thanking our kind waitress once again. As we were going out the door, a man was coming in. He held the door open for us, and I thanked him without actually looking at him. Charity and I were halfway to our car when I heard the door slam and a voice call out, “Elizabeth? Elizabeth Engel?”

  I turned around, surprised to hear my name. The man who’d opened the door came toward us, a puzzled look on his face.

  “I-I’m Elizabeth Engel. Do I know you?”

  He smiled. “It’s Roger. Roger Carson. You know, from Washington Elementary?”

  Although his bright red hair had turned darker and his freckles weren’t quite as noticeable, he still looked the same. “Kingdom kids, Kingdom kids. Watch ’em as they flip their lids.” I suddenly remembered one of Roger’s personal favorites. “Lizzie Engel, Lizzie Engel. She’s so ugly she’ll stay single.”

  “Hi, Roger,” I said, without smiling. “It’s been a long time.”

  His face lit up, and he grinned widely. Was he going to taunt me again? In front of Charity?

  “Well, it certainly has. How are you? And who is this?”

  As he looked at my daughter, I saw a look of bewilderment cross his face. Roger had been best friends with Clay. Was he seeing the similarities?

  “This is my daughter, Charity. Charity, say hello to Mr. Carson.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I failed. It shook like an old woman’s.

  “Hello, Mister Carson,” Charity said shyly. Actually, she said “Hello, Mistah Cawson.” Charity had trouble with the letter r.

  He smiled at her. “Nice to meet you, Charity. What a beautiful little girl you are. You look just like your mother.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I felt my face flush while I tried desperately to come up with something else to say. I wanted to leave, wanted to get away from this man before he said or did something that would stir up old wounds. “So . . . so you still live in Washington?”

  He nodded. “Yep. Never left. That probably sounds silly to someone like you who made it out, but I actually like it here. I took over my parents’ dairy after Dad passed away. I still live in the same house with my wife and two sons. Mom is in the nursing home.”

  “Oh. Did you marry a girl from our school?”

  He grinned. “Yes. Do you remember Mary Yoder?”

  I’m sure my expression matched my shock at this revelation. “Mary Yoder? From Kingdom?”

  “Yep. I snagged a Kingdom girl. Quite a feat.”

  I was so surprised I couldn’t respond. How in the world did Mary and Roger end up together? I couldn’t imagine a more unlikely pair.

  “Where are you headed?” Roger asked.

  “We’re going to Kingdom to see my grandma and grandpa,” Charity said proudly, her earlier shyness gone.

  “Really?” he said with a smile. He looked at me. “Have you been back lately?”

  I managed to shake my head.

  He zipped his coat open and pulled a card out of the pocket of his jeans. Then he took a pen from his shirt pocket. “Listen, Lizzie, I know Mary would love to see you. I’m writing down our telephone number.” He scribbled for a moment and then handed me the card. “I believe there are several phones in Kingdom now. Cora Menlo has one in the restaurant you can use.”

  I took the card from him and stared at the number for several seconds. Finally I said, “Thank you, Roger. I’ll keep it in mind.” I grabbed Charity’s hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to get going.” I turned and almost ran back to the car. Charity pulled at me, telling me I was walking too fast, so I scooped her up in my arms and carried her. I opened the back door and quickly fastened her into her car seat. As I pulled out into the street, I looked in my rearview mirror.

  Roger still stood in the parking lot, staring at our car. I wasn’t a little girl anymore, but I hadn’t lost the terror of being bullied. Surprised that those raw feelings still existed in my psyche, I focused on beating back the shame that made my heart beat faster and my breathing speed up. The thought occurred to me that I was driving away from one source of pain in Kansas City and right into another. Would Kingdom be even worse?

  CHAPTER / 5

  I drove until the pavement beneath me changed to dirt. About ten miles later, my car bumping on uneven surfaces, I found the road to Kingdom. Almost hidden from sight, it cut through a large grove of trees. Anyone not knowing what to look for would surely miss it. I turned off onto a small lane not made for automobiles. As soon as I was certain my car couldn’t be seen from the road I’d just left, I pulled over and got out.

  A strange sensation had come over
me when I’d made the last turn toward Kingdom. For the first time since I’d left the town I grew up in, I felt a twinge of homesickness. Not for my mother or for the friends I’d left behind. For the town itself. I stared down the road, wondering what awaited me. How would I be greeted? It was impossible to know unless I gathered up the nerve to complete my journey.

  I’d stuck my keys inside the pocket of my jeans, and when I pulled them out, the card Roger had given me came out with them. After staring at it for a moment, I crumpled it up, jogged to the other side of the road, and tossed it down into the deep ravine that bordered the other side. It was a dangerous drop, and more than once horses and buggies had needed rescuing when drivers were careless about navigating the narrow path. I watched the card land in a snowdrift at the bottom. Roger had been so cruel to me and to the other children from Kingdom that I had no desire to call him or ever see him again. Besides, he reminded me too much of Clay. I briefly wondered if he and Clay were still friends. Probably not. Clay had been gone a long time.

  I hurried back to the car and checked on Charity. She’d fallen asleep again not long after lunch. I smiled at her angelic face and wondered how my decision to come back to Kingdom would affect her. Charity had always been loved by the only parent she knew. If she experienced rejection because of me, what would that do to her? Even as I asked myself these questions, I was reminded that I had no other choice. I had to protect her from the known threats, and I couldn’t afford to worry about what might happen.

  The tiny town wasn’t on any map, so surely no one from the outside world could find us there. Perhaps my father and the church might try to turn us away, but no matter what lay ahead, I’d find a way to make it work. At least until I could come up with another plan. I got back in the car and drove as slowly as I could, trying to miss all the ruts, but it was almost impossible, since snow covered everything. After hitting one rather large hole, the car jumped violently and Charity woke up.

  “Are we there yet, Mama?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “This sure is a bumpy place.”