The Photograph

by Beverly Lewis

  As he put on his Sunday best—black broadfall trousers and vest, and a crisp white shirt—his thoughts drifted easily to Lydiann. Bits and pieces of conversation when they were out riding or walking came to his remembrance, and images of her smiling knowingly, reading him the way she did so well. And oh, her wonderful sense of humor!

  “Once we’re married, I’ll have to know how you like your eggs,” she’d said once.

  “Over easy.” He’d played along.

  “No omelets, then?”

  “I’ll eat whatever slides off your skillet.”

  “Careful now, Jed. You might live to regret that.”

  They’d shared the heartiest laugh.

  Jed pushed the memory from his mind, wondering if his youngest sister would remember to wake up early enough to make breakfast. He hadn’t wanted to trouble his mother to do so.

  Opening his bedroom door, he immediately smelled the familiar aroma of eggs and sausage and walked to the kitchen, where seventeen-year-old Bettina was already dressed for the day. She looked wide-awake as she carried his plate over from the stove and set it down in front of him before taking a seat herself.

  It was still dark outside, and Jed could hear the ticking of insects from the slightly open window behind him. The wide plank floors showed the marks of the years in the soft yellow light of the gas lamp over the oak table.

  “How long will ya be gone, Bruder?” Bettina asked, thoughtful as always. It was no wonder this tenderhearted, soft-spoken sister already had a serious beau at such a young age. She sat across from him, eyes alert and hair parted straight down the middle. Her face was already sprinkled with freckles from hours spent in the sun planting the family garden with Mamm.

  “Only a week.” He explained why Uncle Ervin was sending him, leaving off the possibility of meeting Jonas Byler’s granddaughters. Bettina would have had too much fun with that little tidbit.

  “Might be gut to get away for a while.” She looked kindly at him.

  He nodded. “It’s been a while, ain’t?”

  “Maybe ya won’t be so ferhoodled when ya come back.”

  “Somebody’s gotta keep you on your toes,” he said.

  “With brothers like you, I’m gonna need more toes.” She left the table and brought back a cup of coffee, setting it down near his plate. “Seriously, I’ll be prayin’ for ya, Jed. You could use some happiness.”

  “Denki.”

  She laughed a little, her spirits high this morning. “I might have something to confide in ya when you’re back,” she whispered, leaning forward.

  “Surely it’s not—”

  Bettina put her finger to her lips. “Shh, ’tis a secret.”

  He had a sinking feeling but ignored it. There was plenty of time to deal with whatever it was. Besides, he knew her well enough not to probe further. “Ain’t goin’ New Order on me, are ya?”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “Can you imagine me drivin’ a car?”

  “Well, I’ve seen ya drive a buggy. . . .”

  She frowned with mock annoyance. “Are you pickin’ on the sister who woke up early to make breakfast?”

  “And it was mighty tasty, let me say.”

  Sighing, she regarded him with a wistful look, and a long moment passed between them. “Ach, Jed. It’s so gut to see ya smile again. I’ve missed that.”

  He took a hesitant sip of coffee and glanced over the top at her. “I know ya wouldn’t have gotten up before dawn for just any brother.”

  “Jah, you’re the fortunate one.”

  When he finished, she removed his plate and took it to the sink, and he headed upstairs to close his suitcase. Go before me today, Lord God, I pray. And make Thy will known to me.

  When Seth Keim, the hired van driver, arrived, Jed was surprised to see other passengers in the second and third seats. He slipped into the passenger side up front with Seth, a slight man in his early forties who had been driving the Amish for at least a decade. They exchanged brief greetings and Jed settled in for the ride, not wanting to add to the talk.

  One woman was chattering excitedly about her “little loom room,” where she wove different yarns into “the pertiest rugs you ever did see!” Jed didn’t glance back, but by the sound of it, she was trying to encourage, even recruit, another woman to do the same. “A room like that’s the best place in the house to retreat from die Kinnerzucht. A separate place to call your own, for sewing or weaving and whatnot, is a must sometimes.”

  Jed couldn’t imagine his own mother admitting that her children were too noisy or underfoot. In all truth, he doubted his mother would have even wanted a hideaway workroom like the woman behind him. None of Jed’s aunts or grandmothers had ever clamored for a separate sewing room, either, that he knew of. Somehow, they managed. And I think we’re better off for the time they took with us.

  He recalled his youngest sister’s sweet-spirited temperament. Bettina, being the baby of the family, had been somewhat doted upon—much as his Lydiann had been. Yet neither of them had turned out the least bit spoiled.

  Another woman in the van spoke up behind him now. “S’pose I could use a quiet place set apart . . . but for my ailin’ mother,” she said, her voice lowering as she continued. “Mamm’s been planning her funeral here lately—every detail, right down to the kind of food she wants served.”

  “She needs privacy for that?” The first woman sounded shocked.

  “Well, she’s jittery a lot and needs her rest. Plus, she doesn’t want anyone to see what she’s writing in her journal. There are days she talks of setting fire to it . . . must be she doesn’t want us to see who she’s blowing off steam about.”

  Jed smiled to himself, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Seth was over there chuckling behind the wheel. Jed had never heard of someone planning a funeral in advance, but then, it took all types of personalities.

  He decided to ignore the frivolous conversation. Alliance was just one hour away. There, he would catch his train to Lancaster.

  It was still too dark to read the old classic The Pilgrim’s Progress. He’d read the book once before but liked to carry reading material wherever he went, even in the buggy. “You never know when a good book might come in handy,” his father liked to say, particularly when Mamm or Bettina needed a ride somewhere to shop. Daed was of a mind that a book was his “insurance” against waiting idly for his womenfolk in town.

  Something else his father had urged Jed and his seven siblings to do was trust in God’s provision for the direction of their lives. “This means believing the Lord will stand strong when you cannot . . . that He will hold you up,” Daed had said.

  This wisdom had been essential for Jed this past year—each time he was tempted to doubt, thinking he couldn’t continue on without Lydiann.

  “Real gut to see ya headin’ to Pennsylvania,” Seth said, glancing his way. “A change of place is sometimes helpful.”

  “Just doin’ my boss’s bidding.”

  “Well, have yourself a nice time.”

  “Denki,” Jed said. And for the first time since Lydiann’s death, he realized he was looking forward to something new, if only for a few days.

  While waiting in the crowd of passengers to board the eastbound train, Jed overheard an older man telling a young boy about the various train cars they could explore on their trip. “There are dining cars, lounge cars, sleeping cars, and even a dome car where you can look at the sky and all around. You’ll see.”

  “Is there ice cream in the dining car?” the boy asked, his face hopeful.

  “We’ll find out, won’t we?” the older man replied as he ruffled the boy’s hair.

  Everywhere Jed turned, people were paired up—young couples holding hands, elderly couples assisting each other, families with children. People in love.

  Once he was on board the train, Jed chose a window seat on the right side of the aisle. As of the first jerk forward, the seat next to him was still vacant. Like usual. He turned to gaze out the window and em
braced the new day with another silent prayer.

  Unknowingly, Jed had drifted off to sleep and was awakened, startled, when someone sneezed. In his groggy state, he bumped something hard wedged between the seat and the coach wall. A brief investigation revealed it was a hardback copy of Little Women. He’d seen Bettina reading the classic novel last summer.

  Opening the book, Jed saw no name or identification on the front pages. With his own treasured library—accumulated over more than a decade—he’d always printed his full name and address in plain view on the front page.

  Thumbing through, he discovered a wrinkled photograph tucked between pages forty-four and forty-five—a pretty Amish girl, possibly in her late teens. He studied the picture more closely, finding it curious that the young woman looked so boldly into the camera while wearing a white prayer Kapp shaped like a heart—the characteristic head covering for the Lancaster County Old Order Amish. Though the picture was black and white, it was clear she wore a cape dress and matching apron, as well. The photo looked as though it had been torn from a strip of others, with the bottom of the next picture showing a young woman’s folded hands.

  Why would a devout girl have her picture taken?

  He turned the photograph over and saw penned on the back: The best and worst day of my life.

  Still more curious, Jed returned the picture to its place between the pages and scanned through the book, quickly noting that the story was focused on four young sisters growing up in New England during the time of the Civil War.

  Definitely not my choice of reading material!

  Yet, while paging through the book, he came across many notes penciled in the margin—the note writer’s own thoughts about family and grief and death, as well as a few tender words about romance and love.

  There were also underlined passages, such as “You are like a chestnut burr, prickly outside, but silky-soft within, and a sweet kernel, if one can only get at it. Love will make you show your heart some day, and then the rough burr will fall off.”

  Jed smiled and wondered if the book’s owner had been thinking of someone in particular. Certainly he had known a few people who could fit that description!

  Two hours later, when the train slowed and then came to a stop in Pittsburgh, a number of passengers got off. By now, Jed had already breezed through a good portion of the book’s margin notes and underlined passages, glancing now and then at the photograph to put the words and the note writer together in his mind.

  The new passengers boarded and rustled about, taking their places and making conversation with seatmates. Once again no one occupied the seat next to him, leaving him alone for the duration of the journey, but this time the prospect pleased Jed.

  He returned to the pages, captivated by the girl’s thoughts, sensing a growing connection to her, at times moved by her delicate honesty.

  He closed the book, recalling how quickly he and Lydiann had bonded, how rapidly he had known she was the girl for him. Almost immediately. That sort of connection came once in a lifetime, or so he presumed. He leaned back in his seat, allowing a gentle sadness to wash over him.

  Whatever he’d had with Lydiann was gone forever. There was no point in wishing for it again.

  Chapter Ten

  TWO DAYS HAD PASSED since the unthinkable had happened. In the meantime, Eva and Frona, and their brothers, too, tried to make the best of it. Menno and Rufus had taken it upon themselves to cover nearly all of Eden Valley, the areas beyond Eva’s Saturday search, but to no avail. It seemed no one had heard from Lily.

  This morning Eva had written in her diary, hoping Lily might simply walk in the door at any moment, having changed her mind. “I’m sorry I worried you,” she might say, and whatever agony they’d all felt would be drowned out by sheer relief.

  Presently, Eva and Frona were having a dinner of baked chicken and rice, taking their time to plan the week, since they’d gotten the Monday washing hung out much earlier.

  Eva suggested, “We might take your tasty jams and my specialty candies down to the Quarryville market come Thursday. What do ya say?” Eva was certain going to market might distract them for a while, at least, from their mutual woes. And, too, perhaps someone might know something about Lily farther south of them.

  Frona nodded. “Fine with me.” She looked up from her meal. “Word has it a lot of people are comin’ into the area for an auction.”

  “Farm or cattle sale?”

  “It’s an estate auction takin’ place two farms down from the Byler carriage shop,” Frona informed her.

  “Is that right?”

  “Should be quite the all-day event, what with not only the house and everything in it being auctioned off, but the barn equipment and the animals, too.”

  Eva listened and hoped they might have time to attend.

  “I also heard that Jonas Byler may retire come this fall,” Frona said. “Might leave a hole in the buggy-making business round here.”

  Eva wondered how that would be for the highly sought after buggy maker, respected all over Lancaster County. Was Jonas Byler looking forward to the change? “It’s hard to hear of older folks having to give up what they’ve loved doing so long.”

  “We don’t know if it’s for his health’s sake.” Frona reached for the butter dish, a homemade biscuit in her other hand.

  “Might just be,” Eva said, realizing how much less laundry there had been today. Goodness, but it seemed Lily had nearly as many dresses and aprons as both Eva and Frona combined. There’s something about the sharp smell of our homemade soap that Lily loves, Eva thought sadly.

  In spite of what they did to keep themselves occupied, Lily was in the background of Eva’s every thought.

  They finished the meal without saying much more to each other, and when dessert was served, Eva made over Frona’s chocolate macaroons, still deliciously soft.

  “Lily’s favorite,” Frona remarked. “I’d be willin’ to make them every day if she’d just return,” she added.

  “Maybe she’s missing us and already thinkin’ of starting home.”

  Frona nodded slowly, like she wasn’t so sure.

  Eva reached for another cookie. Not that it helped anything, but the sweet taste couldn’t hurt.

  ———

  Later, while she and Frona were redding up the kitchen, Eva mentioned an upcoming work frolic. The deacon had invited all the young men and women in the church district to help clean up the schoolhouse. “Would ya like to go with me?” she asked. “There’ll likely be some nice young men there.”

  “What on earth. Who are ya thinkin’ of—me or you?”

  “It’s been a while.”

  “Puh!” Frona muttered, the dishes clattering. Another moment passed. “When is it?”

  “About two weeks away.”

  Frona’s eyes instantly looked more gray than blue. She stopped washing the dish in her hand and frowned. “You must still be thinking ’bout Menno’s announcement.”

  “His what?”

  “Well, what would you call it?” Frona said.

  Eva shrugged. She’s so dramatic. . . .

  “Well, you were here when he laid it all out.” Frona resumed washing the dishes. “I’m thinkin’ of going to see him after the clothes are brought in and folded.”

  “To try an’ change his mind?”

  “Give him a piece of mine, maybe.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “It can’t hurt, can it?”

  Sure might, Eva thought. She wished Frona would forget about arguing with Menno. What she really wanted was for Frona to commit to going to the work frolic at the schoolhouse. It would get their mind off things. She brought it up again.

  “I’ll have to think on it.” The evasive answer gave Eva little hope of Frona’s agreeing.

  She knew better than to push too hard with this sister.

  Jed was met at the Lancaster train depot that afternoon by Jonas’s grandnephew Wallie Byler, who introduced Jed to the short, dark-haired
driver, Neil Zimmerman. “It’s gut of you to come,” Jed told them as Neil turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the parking space. A small orange cat with a cheesy grin swung from the rearview mirror—a character Jed had seen once or twice in a cartoon strip.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Wallie said right next to Jed in the second row.

  They made small talk about the weather and tomorrow’s auction near Quarryville. During a lull in conversation, Neil switched on the radio and Jed was shocked to hear the news from faraway South Korea—an uprising was following what a reporter called “a massacre” in Gwangju. “These protests against martial law are the necessary crucible of a grassroots movement to overturn a repressive regime,” the reporter said. “More than two hundred students died for freedom.”

  Wallie glanced at Jed and shook his head. “If folks could just get along, what a better world this would be.”

  So tragic. Hearing of such mayhem made Jed all the more grateful he had not had to take part in any wars, even to serve overseas as a noncombatant like some of his male relatives had during the war in Vietnam.

  Neil turned down the volume and asked if Jed and Wallie wanted to get a quick bite to eat. They were definitely in agreement, and Neil made the turn into a fast-food place.

  “It’s nearly suppertime round here,” Wallie said with a tug on his black suspenders. His light hair showed a distinct dent from his straw hat, which he must have worn earlier. “Did ya have anything to eat on the trip?”

  Jed nodded. “My youngest sister sent along ham sandwiches, but I sure could go for a cheeseburger now.”

  Right quick, Wallie pulled out his wallet while they waited in line at the drive-through. “Uncle Jonas insisted on treating.”