“Ach, can’t let him do that.” Jed reached into his pocket.
“Nee, better let him have the last word on this, or I’ll be in hot water.” Wallie laughed. “If you don’t know what I mean, you will shortly.”
Jed looked forward to meeting Jonas Byler. “Will either of yous be goin’ to the neighbors’ estate auction, then?” he asked.
“Bright an’ early. But I’m just goin’ for the food.”
Jed chuckled.
Wallie went on to talk about his big dairy operation near Gap. “But I’m happy to help Uncle Jonas out . . . and glad to meet you, too.”
When they picked up their burgers and fries and the chocolate milkshakes Wallie had ordered, they headed south on Route 272 toward Quarryville.
They stopped for additional Amish passengers near an area known as Willow Street, including one younger couple who seemed taken with each other. Plainly in love. Jed thought again of the book he’d found on the train, and it crossed his mind: What if he could meet the note writer, the pretty girl in the photograph?
It was a crazy idea. Besides, he realized, whoever wrote in the book might be mortified to know someone else is privy to her thoughts.
Away from curious and judgmental eyes, he would look again at the forbidden photo later. Maybe he’d missed something about the young woman. Maybe someone around Quarryville might recognize her . . . if she’s from that area.
He shook his head at the fanciful notion. He couldn’t bear to put such a thoughtful soul at risk by showing the picture around, even if it meant he might find her.
Chapter Eleven
JONAS BYLER’S HANDSHAKE was unexpectedly vigorous for as spindly as he looked—a tall, tanned man in his late seventies. Jonas graciously greeted Jed, then motioned for his wife to come over. “This here’s Jedediah from Berlin, Ohio—Ervin Stutzman’s nephew, ya know.” Jonas introduced him to Elsie before pointing the way into the light and airy kitchen.
Austere in its simplicity, the kitchen reminded Jed of his paternal grandmother’s with its low windows along the south side of the room and a considerable freestanding pine hutch, yellowed with age.
“Willkumm,” Elsie said, her black apron a menu of baking projects—splotches of flour and something sticky, like jam.
“I appreciate your hospitality.”
“We hope you’ll feel free to stay as long as you’d like.” Elsie grinned at Jed and gestured for Jonas to take him upstairs to the spare room. “There’s a washroom just down the hallway up there,” she added. “We’re tryin’ to keep up with the times, I guess you could say.” She laughed a nervous little laugh.
Jed was surprised she felt it necessary to excuse the indoor plumbing. His parents’ home had been updated that way back in the mid-fifties. Before I was born.
“We’ll have a later supper than usual,” Elsie called again up the stairs. “Chust take your time getting settled.”
Jed didn’t have the heart to say he’d wolfed down a hamburger and fries on the way there.
Leading the way, Jonas opened the door to Jed’s room. “My son and family are comin’ for the meal tonight—Mose and Bekah and their two youngest daughters . . . both courtin’ age.” Jonas winked slyly.
Keeping his smile in check, Jed assumed Uncle Ervin must have put a bug in Jonas’s ear. Could be interesting, he thought and quickly unpacked, then went to freshen up. Strubblich hair will never do for this meal!
When Sylvia Lantz stepped into The Sweet Tooth around closing time at four o’clock, Eva smiled. “Happy to see ya,” she said, going around the counter to greet her neighbor.
“Came to bring some cheer.” Sylvia was all dressed up in a pretty black cape dress and matching apron and wearing her crisp white Kapp.
“You couldn’t have arrived at a better time.” Eva went to the display case and removed the last two bonbons, setting them in a bowl. “Let’s go over and sit in the kitchen and have ourselves a little taste of chocolate.”
Sylvia was quick to agree, and as they walked through the hall and into the main house, she mentioned receiving a letter from her daughter Tilly Barrows, who lived in Rockport, Massachusetts, with her family. As a youth, Tilly had decided against joining church and had eventually married an outsider after moving to the English world. She and her husband, Kris, had three children—nearly seven-year-old identical twin daughters, Jenya and Tavani, and eighteen-month-old Mel, named for Tilly’s brother, Melvin Lantz.
“Will they be comin’ for another visit?” Eva hoped so for Sylvia’s sake.
“As soon as the twins are out of school for the summer.” Sylvia opened the letter once they’d seated themselves at the kitchen table. “Just thought I’d read a little bit of it to you. All right?”
Eva was glad Frona was upstairs—she could hear the footsteps overhead. For her own part, she was all for listening to Tilly’s letter, as she’d always liked Sylvia, possibly because Mamma had thought so highly of her.
“I won’t tire you with everything Tilly wrote,” Sylvia said as she scanned through the lines. “Ah, here we are.”
She began to read aloud.
“Our twins have learned to make beautiful little quilting stitches, Mamma—isn’t that such happy news? And they can say simple words and phrases in Deitsch, even though they haven’t grown up with the People, as I did. Seems that Ruth and I let that slip into our conversation more than we know! I thought it might be an encouragement to you and Dat, hearing that some of the Plain culture has found its way to your English grandchildren.”
Sylvia looked up from the letter, tears threatening. “Oh, Eva, isn’t this the dearest thing? Like a melody to my heart.”
Eva hardly knew what to say. Was Sylvia trying to offer her some hope about Lily? But it wasn’t hope really; it seemed more like giving Lily up to the world and being satisfied with a letter or two.
“I never dreamed I’d get such letters from our Tilly, tellin’ the truth.”
Eva knew that Tilly and her younger sister, Ruth, had nearly broken Sylvia’s and Lester’s hearts. But seeing Sylvia’s response to this letter, Eva sensed Sylvia had made peace with losing her dear children to the outside world. Perhaps the years had washed away the worst of the pain.
“Sometimes I wish they’d all relocate to Eden Valley so I could get my fill of seein’ them and my grandchildren.”
“Ain’t likely they’d become Amish, is it?” Eva asked, knowing her own mother had posed the same question to Sylvia after Tilly and Ruth left the People. Against her husband’s advice, Sylvia had clung to that hope, even though she’d confided in Eva’s mother that she knew in her heart that Tilly and her family would never think of such a move.
“Nee, not likely, though I’d like nothing more.” Sylvia dried her eyes with a hankie from her pocket. “A mother’s heart is never far from her children.”
When Frona came downstairs, Eva offered some of her chocolate macaroons to Sylvia, which brought smiles all around. “I do believe I’ve had my fill of sweets for the week,” Sylvia said, thanking them.
Later, Eva walked with her to the end of the lane, aware of the pungent smell of manure in the air. “I’m glad you stopped in.” She paused.
“If I know you, you’re prayin’ for Lily.” Sylvia gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Dottie raised you well.”
Standing in the road, Eva watched her mother’s friend head back down the road, Sylvia’s black dress swirling around her bare ankles.
She wondered what had motivated Tilly to leave her family behind and strike out into unfamiliar territory. Was it frightening for her at first? Or an adventure?
Thinking again of Lily, she trembled. Oh, write to me, sister, please write soon!
Jed was seated to the left of Mose Byler at the long table that evening, with Mose’s wife, Bekah, and their daughters Lovina and Orpha across from Jed. To encourage conversation, no doubt, he thought.
Elsie sat to the right of Jonas, who presided at the head of the table. She passed the food
first to her husband, and then the platters went to the men—pork chops with mashed potatoes and gravy, baked beans, and corn pudding.
Jonas and his son Mose talked for a while, but it wasn’t long before Jed, too, was drawn into the conversation. He was mindful of the bashful though pretty blond girls across the table. Orpha, who said she was nineteen, and Lovina, twenty-one, glanced up from their plates every so often. Mose helped things along, mentioning that both young women would be at the auction tomorrow.
“They’re helping with the food,” Jonas interjected, leaning forward to catch Jed’s eye. “Wunnerbaar-gut cooking.”
“Home cooking’s best,” Jed replied, smiling back at Orpha, who seemed the more outgoing of the two. “What type of food?”
Orpha replied, “Oh, nearly whatever you have a hankerin’ for. Delicious soups: ham and bean, ya know, and chicken corn soup, too. There’ll be ham and cheese sandwiches, hot dogs, barbecue, whoopie pies, cream-filled doughnuts, homemade ice cream, and all kinds of pies, including banana cream.”
“My mouth’s watering already.”
“Des gut,” Orpha replied, glancing curiously at Lovina.
“Ever been to an auction round here?” Mose Byler asked, eyes intent.
“This is my first visit to the area.”
“And you’re enjoying working in Ohio with my mother’s cousin Ervin Stutzman?” Mose said.
“So far, I’m just an apprentice.”
Orpha glanced at Elsie, then at her mother. “That’s the best way to start, ain’t so?” she said at last.
Jed nodded, smiling back at her. She’s coming out of her shell.
When it was time for dessert, Elsie’s strawberry pie got calls for seconds from Jonas and Mose, but considering Jed’s full stomach, he respectfully declined.
Later, Jed found himself alone with Orpha and sitting on the back porch. They weren’t by themselves for long. Lovina and her mother wandered outside a few minutes later, heading around the walkway to visit Elsie’s older sister living in the Dawdi Haus. Then, not so long after, Mose and Jonas appeared and pretended not to see Jed and Orpha there as they made their way over to the carriage shop, full of talk.
When it was just the two of them again, Jed commented on the peacefulness of the hilly countryside around his native Berlin farmland, and Orpha was quick to say how nice it was right there in rural Quarryville. They talked about hobbies and favorite activities—he surmised volleyball was the one commonality between them. The longer they visited, the more he missed the easy style of conversation he’d enjoyed with Lydiann. He wanted to be companionable to Orpha, but everything he said came out awkward and stilted.
Am I trying too hard?
Later, when Mose and Bekah and their daughters left for home, he was invited to join Jonas and Elsie for their Bible reading in the front room. Thankful for this quiet and reflective time, Jed asked again for the Lord’s guidance, as he did every night during the prayer time.
When he’d said good-night, Jed headed upstairs, where he spotted Little Women on the table near the bed. He hesitated for a moment, feeling more than a little silly as he finally gave in to his whim and turned to the page where he’d left off, marked by the photograph.
Another neatly printed note ran down the side of the page: How will I know when I find true love?
Jed closed the book. If he hadn’t met Lydiann, he might have wondered this himself. Lydiann hadn’t just been his “true love.” She herself had been true, a young woman of the highest character and noble intention, earnest to do God’s will.
That’s true love, he thought.
Looking at the photo once more, Jed knew the owner was obviously living too close to the world. It wasn’t uncommon for restless Amish girls in Rumschpringe to follow their boyfriends right out of the community.
He studied the woman’s eyes in the picture. They were kind and bright, but something was amiss.
Again he deliberated the notion of searching for this young woman, who despite her struggles with the ordinance, had written such poignant thoughts about life. By the looks of the delicate Kapp, surely the girl lived somewhere in Lancaster County.
But where?
The grandfather clock downstairs chimed ten times, and Jed prepared to retire for the night. Morning would come on cat’s paws, sneaking up on him.
Chapter Twelve
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING after breakfast, Jed left Jonas’s house to peruse the barn equipment up the road, already displayed for the auction. Other men were trickling onto the property, a smattering of Amish and Mennonites and even a handful of English farmers—many of them milling about and surveying the tools and other offerings.
A number of men had gravitated to the stable, talking rapidly in Deitsch, a few puffing on pipes, a habit Jed hadn’t noticed much in public places back home. Except for some of the older Amishmen who smoke on their own property, like Uncle Ervin.
It was certain there would be plenty of competition in the bidding for the barn’s and house’s contents, all of which were to be sold in separate lots.
Jed observed Mose and his wife riding into the lane, Lovina and Orpha squeezed into the second bench seat with two other younger girls. Right now, though, Jed needed to go over to sign up for his bidding number, in case he saw something that caught his interest.
Several older men were chewing the fat as Jed made his way into the line for the bidding numbers. “Word has it a clinic in Philly has health screening tests for seniors, free of charge,” one of the long-bearded men was saying.
“Hadn’t heard that,” said another.
“How old do ya have to be?” asked a third.
“A senior.”
“Well, I’ve got a few years yet till I hit eighty,” the second man said.
“Seems to me that’s a super-senior,” the first man said with a chuckle.
Jed grinned, and when he’d acquired his number, he moseyed out to the barn to have a look at the animals, eager for the day when he might own more than one road horse and perhaps some goats or chickens.
Later, on his way back toward the yard, he noticed Mose tie his mare to the hitching post, the girls standing in a cluster nearby. The thought of having to talk exclusively with Orpha Byler again felt uncomfortable in light of last evening’s porch encounter.
As they lingered at the breakfast table, Naomi Mast pressed Abner about the estate auction down near Quarryville. “Wouldn’t it be nice to go for just a little while?”
Paging through The Budget, Abner appeared to have other things on his mind. “There’s nothin’ I’m looking to buy.”
“Are ya so sure we wouldn’t enjoy ourselves?” she pleaded.
“Fairly sure.”
Naomi set her teacup down and added, “We could have some delicious food while we walk around a bit.”
Abner inclined his head toward her. “This must mean a lot to ya.”
“Well, I’ve been a-turnin’ the idea round and round this morning, is all. We meet such interesting people at these sales, and some of our grandchildren might be there, too. Our son Elam will be, for sure.”
Abner set his paper down and came over to the sink to plant a kiss on her lips. “I remember that perty smile of yours, Naomi, and I haven’t seen it yet this mornin’. S’pose that means we best be ridin’ down to that auction you’re so keen on.”
“Oh, Abner, ya mean it?” She couldn’t keep from smiling as she leaned happily into his strong arms.
“I do indeed.”
Their rhubarb was coming on fast now, and from the kitchen window, Eva observed Frona basking in the sunlight like a child. She’d gone out to pick right after breakfast while Eva laid out her candies and other goodies for tomorrow’s customers.
Frona was happiest, Eva decided, when she was putting up jam, something she did for the tourists who came to The Sweet Tooth and discovered the preserves for sale alongside Eva’s confections. Sweets upon sweets!
To keep from going narrish over Lily’s depar
ture, Eva poured her heart into her own work. And whenever she thought of Lily, she breathed a prayer and ached for whatever pain had propelled her sister away.
A little while later, Ida Mae dropped by with some fresh bread to share. “You two oughta be down at the Quarryville estate auction, selling your jams and homemade candies,” she suggested to Eva when Frona came inside. “Might lift your spirits some.”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of goodies, I’m sure,” Eva replied.
“Your Dat and Mamm are goin’,” Frona said, turning from the sink, where she was washing rhubarb. “Naomi said so when I was out mailin’ some letters this morning.”
Eva brightened. “I’m sure Abner’s excited.”
Ida Mae laughed. “No doubt she had to twist his arm.”
“Your Mamm likes to mingle with new folks,” Eva told Ida Mae. “She’s a social butterfly, my mother always said.”
“Well, Dottie would’ve known,” Ida Mae said.
When Ida Mae was gone, Frona returned to the rhubarb. “Are ya lookin’ forward to going to market Thursday?” she asked Eva as she took out the cutting board and began to slice the stalks for jam.
“Jah, and for the same reason Naomi’s goin’ to the auction.”
“You’re itchin’ to see some new faces, I ’spect.” Frona squinted at her. “Ain’t still hoping to meet someone who might know where Lily’s gone, are ya?”
“It would be helpful to know if she’s safe somewhere, ain’t so?”
“I ’spect we’ll hear something when she runs out of money,” Frona spouted.
And the sooner, the better, Eva thought sadly.
“I got thirty dollars . . . now give me forty,” the Amish auctioneer rattled off from where he stood high on a flatbed wagon. “Thirty, thirty . . . give me forty?”
Jed raised his head to the younger man reciting bids while keeping track of indications from the throng of bidders as various items were presented.
“Got a forty-dollar bid—will ya give me fifty?” called the auctioneer.
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