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The Heart Knows the Way Home

By Christy Distler

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CHAPTER 1

A New Beginning

If what didn’t kill you made you stronger, Janna could have singlehandedly upended the fifty-foot pine tree that had sliced through the second floor of her new home. As it was, she struggled to get a handle on her racing mind while steering her Honda CR-V to the curb and then shoving the gearshift into park.
“Mama!” Kayla’s wail from the backseat suggested tears would follow. “What happened to our house?”
What happened was obvious. Horrifyingly so. But how? Everything had been fine twelve hours ago when they returned to their old apartment for the night before bringing the last carload of belongings to Akron this morning. The white clapboard house with its green trim, quaint front porch, and small flower garden had even felt like home already.
Oh no. Mrs. Bollinger. Their sweet seventy-something landlady who lived on the other side of the twin house had been sitting in a chair on the front porch when they left last night. Where was she now? Surely not inside. Yellow caution tape had been strung from the rightmost porch post to the street sign at the left corner of the property and along the side street. But had she been hurt? The tree barely touched her side of the house, but who knew what damage was inside.
Janna pulled the keys from the ignition, then glanced in the sideview mirror before getting out of the car. Hot, humid air enveloped her as she opened the back door.
Still in her booster seat, Kayla clung to her ratty stuffed rabbit and stared past her with wide eyes. “Our house, Mama.”
Janna’s chest tightened at the raw anguish in her daughter’s voice. She released the seat’s five-point harness and tried to portray a calm she didn’t feel. “I know. But it’ll be all right. Come on.” She helped Kayla out, then held her hand as they crossed the street. A white pickup truck and a red-striped fire department SUV sat in front of the neighboring house, but no one was in sight.
Stopping where the sidewalk met the brick walkway, Janna stared up at the pine that had fallen sideways onto the roof above three of the four second-story windows. The middle two windows had cracked, but the one to the left of them fared much worse. Pine branches had broken through the frame from the inside, thrusting shards of glass and the old air conditioner onto the porch roof.
The tightness in her chest surged into her throat. That was the window of the bedroom Kayla had chosen.
“Don’t go any closer!”
She turned at the deep voice’s warning, clutching Kayla to her side. Two men, one maybe forty and the other old enough to be his father, approached from around the right side of the house. The younger one wore a navy-blue T-shirt with a fire department crest on the chest, so they had to be the drivers of the pickup and SUV.
The older one smoothed his thinning white hair. “You Joanna Carpenter?”
They knew her name—sort of. A good sign. “Janna, yes. We moved in yesterday. Is Mrs. Bollinger okay?”
The other, nearly a head taller, nodded once as they stopped a few feet away. “She’s fine. Gertie’s outlived cancer twice. A tree in her roof barely fazed her,”—he glanced down at Kayla—“though she was sure glad you weren’t here. She wanted to call you but misplaced your number.”
“Where is she?”
“At her son’s place. A tree service is coming today, but no one can go in the house till it’s inspected and deemed structurally stable.”
Ugh. Not what she wanted to hear. “We can’t even get our things from the first floor?” Only their bedframes, mattresses, and a dresser had been carried upstairs by the movers. “Almost everything’s still downstairs.”
The older one scrunched his face. “Sorry, hon. Justin’s with the fire department. He can take your number and let you know what the inspector says. Probably won’t be till Monday, though. Do you have somewhere to go?”
Hardly. Their old apartment was an hour and a half away, and she’d turned in the keys that morning. As well, everything she owned, save what filled their small car, was held hostage by the house.
“How’d that tree fall down?” Kayla scowled up at it, now looking more curious than upset. That wouldn’t last long.
Justin leaned down and rested his hands on his knees. “We had a bad storm here last night. The ground was soft and wet from the rain, and the strong wind blew it over.” Straightening again, he met Janna’s gaze with concerned eyes. “Do you have somewhere to go?”
If only she could think straight. “Well . . . no.” And she didn’t want to go far in case they could get into the house sooner. Staying at a motel was an option, but finding a room in Lancaster County in late June would be nearly impossible. Except for one possibility. “Is the Flying Dutchman still the least-expensive place around?”
Both men eyed her. “It is,” the older one said, “but for good reason. You don’t want to stay there.”
Not at all if its clientele were anything like they were years ago. But after paying the early termination penalty on their apartment, the movers’ fee, and the first month’s rent here, she needed to scrimp until she got paid again.
“It’ll be fine . . . till we figure something out.” Which she needed to do elsewhere. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she returned her gaze to Justin. “If I give you my number, will you call me as soon as you know anything about the house?” And for nothing else.
Goodness. She had no right thinking that way about him. Not every guy was bad news. Justin had to be fifteen years older than her, and he seemed nice enough. He also spoke with a hint of the accent common to Deitsch speakers, so he was probably Mennonite and married even though he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.
“Sure.” He pulled a pad of paper and pen from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to her. “Anything else we can do?”
Besides wave a magic wand and make this all go away? She clenched her jaw as she wrote out her name and cell phone number. “No. Thank you.” She handed him the paper and pen, then grabbed Kayla’s hand. “Come on, honey.”
Kayla pulled away, her blue eyes alarmed below the curly wisps of damp strawberry-blond hair stuck to her forehead. “Where are we going? My toys are inside.”
Janna picked her up and spoke quietly as she crossed the street. “I know. But we can’t go inside the house right now. They’ll let us know when we can.” Thank goodness Kayla’s favorites were in the car. “We have Rabbit and your blanket. We’ll get the rest as soon as we can.”
“But . . . Mama, noooo! I want . . . I want . . . Noooo!”
By the time they were both in the car, Janna was soaked with perspiration and wanted to cry just as hard as her wailing five-year-old was in the backseat. She pulled away from the curb, only to slam on the brakes when a car horn blared alongside her. As soon as the street was clear, she headed toward Main Street.
Somehow, in less than twenty minutes, their fairy-tale new beginning had turned into a nightmare.



Ten minutes later, Janna turned off Wanner Road and onto Division Highway. Kayla had finally stopped crying and now clutched her rabbit and blanket as she leaned sideways against the headrest of her booster seat. Another ten minutes and they’d be at the Flying Dutchman. If nothing else, renting a room would give Kayla a place to take a nap—much needed after the move yesterday and their late night—while Janna decided what to do next. They had some clothing and food in the car, but not what they’d need for even a few days at a motel.
Suddenly, the car sputtered and slowed. Janna released the gas pedal and pressed it again, but nothing happened. Although K-LOVE still played through the speakers, the air conditioner blew warmer air and their speed gradually decreased.
“Mama?” Kayla already sounded sleepy.
“Hold on, Kay. Something’s not right with the car.” She glanced down at the dashboard. The only warning light lit was the low-fuel indicator, but that one hadn’t gone out since the gas gauge stopped working six months ago. Since then, she’d been watching the trip meter to make sure she filled the tank every three hundred miles.
Except the full mileage was displayed instead of the trip mileage. “Please, no,” she whispered as she tapped the trip meter button.
Three hundred and sixty-six miles.
No, no, no. Could this day get any worse?
“Mama? My tummy hurts.”
What? Oh, please not now. A glimpse of Kayla’s pale face in the rearview mirror confirmed her fear. Carsickness. Apparently, the day could get worse. Much worse. All because she’d taken hilly, curvy Farmersville Road so she wouldn’t have to drive past the house where she and Mom had lived for six years of her childhood. “Okay, honey. We have to pull over anyway.”
The car slowed even more as they climbed a hill, then Christian Aid Ministries’ white wooden sign appeared on the opposite side of the road. Steering was much more difficult now, but if she could just get into the parking lot, they’d be safer than if she stopped on the shoulder.
“Please, God. Please, God,” she whispered. “Just a little farther.” At least no vehicles were oncoming.
The car was going too slow to make it fully into the parking lot. Cutting the turn into the driveway as soon as possible, she maneuvered the barely rolling car onto the grass between the sign and the bush alongside the exit lane.
Safe. Now to help Kayla.
She got out and opened the back door. Kayla peered at her through half-closed eyes, her usually pink cheeks almost colorless. What to do, what to do? Janna didn’t want her to get sick in the car, but the late-morning sun beat down from a hazy sky, and the temperature was already in the low nineties. Hardly comfortable for anyone, let alone a child who didn’t feel well.
“Hello! Are you needing help?”
An all-black carriage—Old Order Mennonite—now sat on the other side of the car in the parking lot’s exit lane, and its passenger was leaning her head out the side door. Before Janna could answer, the stout sixty-something woman wearing a muted pink dress climbed out. “Are you all right? Going by the look on your face, you’re not.”
Not by a long shot. “My daughter’s carsick. And we ran out of gas.” Oh, and we’re homeless. She helped Kayla out of her seat. “Don’t get out yet. Just sit on the floor with your legs out the door. If you need to get sick, tell me and we’ll get to the grass.”
Kayla nodded, still clinging to her rabbit, and sat down as instructed. Janna squatted and smoothed her hair back from her face.
The woman rounded the car door with a black thermos and a folded white handkerchief in one hand, then opened the thermos and poured water on the handkerchief. “My nephew used to get carsick whenever we hired a van, it seemed. Putting a cool cloth on his forehead or the back of his neck always helped. Here.”
Janna took the offered handkerchief without looking away from Kayla. “Thank you.” She wiped her daughter’s face, then folded the handkerchief in half and placed it on the back of her neck, beneath her long ponytail.
“Can you call your husband to bring you some gas?” The woman dragged the back of her arm across her forehead, then adjusted the white head covering she wore over her graying dark hair. With dress sleeves that came below her elbows and black stockings and shoes on, she had to be sweltering.
“I . . . no. We just moved here and don’t have family nearby.”
“And a big tree fell on our house last night,” Kayla added.
The woman gasped. “Oh my. Is that right?”
“Well, we weren’t in it at the time.” Janna stood, then looked into the woman’s kind face for the first time—a face she knew well. “Malinda Martin?” No wonder the voice had sounded familiar.
“Ya. Have we . . .” She smiled brightly. “Janna. Oh my. We had no idea you were back in these parts.” Malinda pulled her into a tight embrace.
Both were sweaty, but Janna didn’t care. She needed a hug, and Malinda had always had a way of making things all right. “Just as of today,” she said when they released each other.
Crazy. What were the odds that someone from the family that had once practically raised her would come to her rescue—just like they had when she was only a year older than Kayla. “I planned on stopping by once we’d moved in.” Her lame excuse only made her feel worse. She should’ve done that long before now.
Malinda’s grin didn’t fade a bit. “Come home with us. Mamm and Luke will be so happy to see you, and he’s got a little boy about your daughter’s age.”
Mamm and Luke. What about Daadi Eli? Her not mentioning him could only mean—
“What’s your name, dear one?” Malinda bent forward.
“Kayla. But Mama sometimes calls me Kay.” She held up the rabbit. “This is Rabbit.”
“Janna, we always have gas on the farm. Luke can bring you back here with some and get your car driving again.” She returned her gaze to Kayla. “Have you ever ridden in a carriage?”
Kayla’s face brightened. “No. But I love horses. Can we, Mama?”
Janna fought to rein in the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Malinda’s offer of help was a huge blessing, but she hadn’t seen or spoken to the Martins since she and her mother moved away almost fourteen years ago—not that she hadn’t tried at first. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Impose?” Malinda shook her head, her brown eyes crinkling with a combination of what looked like disbelief and sadness. “Never. And Gott calls us to show mercy to those in need. Please. Will you come?”
Only a fool would refuse such kindness, no matter how awkward this might be. Nodding, she stroked Kayla’s hair again. “Are you feeling well enough to go for a ride?”
Kayla stood. “Oh yes, Mama. My tummy doesn’t hurt as much now.”
Once the Honda was locked, they walked around to the carriage.
Beulah, Malinda’s sister—and also sister-in-law since they’d married two Martin brothers—now stood by the passenger-side door of the carriage, glowering. Though the two dressed and even looked similar, their personalities had always been so different. “Plenty hot to be standing around,” she grumbled.
At least Janna was wearing a calf-length summer dress and Kayla a knee-length skort and short-sleeved shirt. Her dress was sleeveless, but it covered more than the clothing she’d originally considered for such a hot day. Beulah certainly would have complained about their immodesty had they dressed in shorts and tank tops.
“Ya, ’tis. Especially when you’re stranded.” Malinda placed her hand on Janna’s back. “Sister, you remember Janna, and this is Kayla.” She winked at Janna. “Go ahead and get in. We’ll be home in ten minutes.”
Janna leaned into the carriage and pulled the back of the bench seat forward, then helped Kayla climb into the backseat. After following, she drew the front seat back into place. Her apprehension eased a bit at the ecstatic smile Kayla wore as she peered through the carriage’s open back.
The sisters got in, then Malinda glanced over her shoulder. She’d never been attractive by worldly standards, even when younger, but the warm, sincere smile that rounded her face gave it a genuine beauty. “Ach, Janna, Mamm will be so glad to see you,” she said again.
Beulah grabbed the reins, huffing as she glared through the carriage’s storm front. Her unpleasant demeanor was why Janna had spent six years of her childhood avoiding the woman as much as possible.
As the horse pulled the carriage out onto the shoulder of Division Highway, Janna slowly breathed in and out. If Mammi Salena would be so glad to see her, then why hadn’t she or Luke ever responded to the letters she wrote to them fourteen years ago?

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