The Photograph

by Beverly Lewis

  Now, spotting the Bylers’ gray carriage coming into view, Eva’s heart thrilled to see Jed wave out the window. His enthusiasm delighted her, and she waved back.

  The sun dazzled everything in sight—suddenly the meadow looked greener and Naomi’s climbing roses a brighter pink, as if Eva’s surroundings were tinged by her own happiness.

  “I’m glad to see you again, Eva.” Jed’s voice was warm as he offered her a hand up, then went around the buggy to get into the driver’s side.

  “It’s all right if you want to pull into Abner’s lane,” she suggested with a smile. “He won’t mind.”

  “What if we just ride for a while first? All right with you?”

  Eva was perfectly content to sit there next to him and asked about his morning, knowing the Bylers’ church district had an off-Sunday, since their shared bishop had held the Preaching service for Eden Valley at his own house. Jed mentioned a quiet breakfast with Jonas and his wife, then family worship, followed by a long walk around their property.

  “How was your Preaching service today?” he inquired.

  “The house was packed,” she said softly. “I don’t think anyone was missing, come to think of it.” She caught herself. “Except for Lily. And I almost wonder if that wasn’t the reason for the larger than usual attendance.” She mentioned a good number of people had offered to pray for Lily.

  “Reminds me of our church.” Jed tilted his head thoughtfully. “It’s God’s way—the People lookin’ after each other.”

  She nodded in full agreement. “It does help, but it doesn’t always ease the pain.”

  “I understand,” he said quietly, taking his time. At last he met her gaze. “You see, I lost my fiancée to an accident a year ago.”

  “Oh, Jed.” Her heart broke for him.

  He inhaled deeply. “Lydiann died instantly, I was told . . . a blessing for her, but . . .” He paused, clearly uncomfortable with the recollection. “Not for the rest of us. At the time, I didn’t think I could bear it.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Eva didn’t ask about the accident. Some things are just too painful.

  “It was shocking, sure, but no more than your father’s death was for you and your family.”

  “There’s no time to say good-bye with a sudden loss, but it’s quick and over with for the person,” she said. “A lingering illness gives time for the family to accept the death, but the patient suffers more—like Mamma did.”

  Jed glanced at her, his expression caring. “Afterward, I remember feeling exhausted all the time. I couldn’t seem to get enough sleep.”

  “Oh, and ya feel so alone,” she admitted, swallowing the lump in her throat. “At Mamma’s burial service, I kept wonderin’ if anyone could see how forlorn I felt . . . ever so lost.” She glanced at Jed. “Like the orphan I am.”

  Jed was nodding his head. “For me, it seemed like my hopes and plans dried up. It took days, even weeks, for the truth to sink in. I kept wakin’ up and thinking it was a horrible dream.”

  “I felt that way for months, too, but not so much about my future hopes as for the giant hole in our family.”

  “Did you find yourself wishing you’d done something different the day of your father’s death?” he asked.

  “For sure. To this day, I wish I had cut one more piece of my birthday cake for him.”

  Jed’s eyebrows rose. “Your father died on your birthday?”

  She bowed her head. “My sixteenth—four years ago. It was terrible.”

  They talked further, more slowly now. Then Eva asked, “What about you? Did ya wish you could change anything ’bout the day Lydiann died?”

  “Over and over, I wish I’d offered to take her to visit her aunt, instead of letting her go with her younger brother—as if I had the power to change God’s will.”

  He turned to face her again, and in his eyes she saw the pain he carried, the enormous loss.

  “I’m learning a lot about faith through grieving—trusting that our sovereign Lord knows what is best for each of us . . . about everything,” Eva whispered, blinking away tears. “To be honest, it’s a difficult journey.”

  “Jah, for certain.” Jed reached for her hand, and despite her sadness at what she had lost, Eva felt an irrepressible joy.

  After the ride, Jed pulled into the Masts’ lane and tied up the horse under a shade tree. They set off walking toward the pond, where there was a grove of willows along one side, nourished by the water. Jed set an easy pace as they enjoyed soothing breezes beneath the graceful branches. The place was peaceful, hidden by dozens of green tendrils.

  “My father cautioned me against bitterness in the early days after the accident,” Jed admitted. “I was sorely tempted to fall into that pit. Ach, there were days . . .”

  She purposely didn’t look at him, lest he was struggling. “I can’t imagine your loss, Jed.”

  “And I can’t know yours. I have a feeling that each loss is different . . . and unique, too, in how a person grieves.”

  “With my father’s death, I mostly fought the disbelief—the shock of it—and with Mamma’s illness, I felt so helpless. Oh, the sorrow, the ache in my heart for them both once they were gone.”

  Jed glanced at the sky, then back at her. He mentioned someone had indicated he’d taken Lydiann’s loss too hard, that he should have gotten over his sadness sooner, since they hadn’t married yet. “But no one can really say how another person should grieve, or for how long.”

  Eva fully understood. Oh, do I ever!

  A cloud concealed the sun from their view as they emerged from the willow grove. Eva spotted several ducks gliding through the water toward them. “I think they must know somethin’,” she whispered, opening the bag and breaking off a long piece of crust for Jed. “Lookee there.”

  She pinched off a small piece and tossed it, and then another, and Jed did the same. He looked so handsome in his Sunday clothes—black trousers, white shirt, and black suspenders, and his narrow-brimmed straw hat, too. She had to remind herself to feed the ducks instead of watching Jed squat to toss the crumbs into the pond.

  Soon, two larger ducks waddled out of the water and came right up to Jed, quacking for more. He held his hand flat, and the first duck ate off of his palm.

  “They’re not afraid of you.” Eva was intrigued. “Lily can do that, too. The ducks and Canada geese come right up to her.”

  Jed looked at her. “You’ve suffered a third loss,” he said so tenderly she thought she might cry. “Lily’s leaving an’ all.”

  “A frustrating kind of loss, jah.” Because no one knows how it’ll end.

  He rose and brushed off his hands, but the two ducks stood there quacking for more.

  “Here, why don’t you take the rest.” She was amused by his interaction with the more persistent birds.

  Jed pinched off a few more pieces and moved closer to the water. Now many more ducks were swimming this way, some flapping their dark wings and splashing as they came.

  Once the crumbs were gone, Jed and Eva walked twice around the pond’s perimeter, and each time, when they wandered beneath the willows, Jed took her hand.

  “I’d like to see your candy shop before I leave town,” he said. “Might I drop by tomorrow?”

  “Well, I open later on Mondays to help with the washing. If ya stop in after the noon meal, that’d be best.”

  “Fewer customers then?”

  “Possibly.” She couldn’t help but smile.

  “Do you have a Closed sign?” He winked at her.

  She blushed. “I do, actually.”

  “So maybe we could slip away for another walk.”

  She liked the idea. Then, second-guessing it, she said, “Honestly, it might be better to stay put in the shop to visit.”’

  He seemed to acquiesce. “I don’t want to leave without sayin’ so long, ya know?”

  She encouraged him to come by The Sweet Tooth around twelve-thirty, after dishes were done.

  “Will it be
all right with Frona?” he asked.

  “I don’t plan to tell her,” Eva replied with a little laugh. “Hopefully, if anyone spots you, they’ll assume you’re there to purchase sweets.”

  One last visit with Jed . . .

  Chapter Twenty-one

  THE WONDERFUL SMELL OF BREAD DOUGH filled the kitchen as Eva made her way down the cellar steps on washday morning. Frona was fretting about coming that close to getting her fingers stuck in the wringer. “Ach, I’m glad ya didn’t!” Eva said, hurrying to help lift the heavy, wet clothes out of the washer and carefully feeding them through the wringer with her sister’s assistance.

  Later, once the first load was out on the line and they’d loaded the second batch, they stopped to have a cup of tea. And after the breakfast dishes were washed and put away, Eva rushed to the mailbox and found a letter from Alfred Dienner. Truth be known, she wasn’t very excited to hear from him, especially since meeting Jed.

  Nevertheless, she slipped away to her room to read Alfred’s letter.

  Dear Eva,

  How are you? Are you keeping busy with your candy making and your customers?

  I’ve been doing quite a lot in the woodworking shop here, more than I realized would be necessary. That’s why I haven’t written sooner, even though I do think of you every day.

  Have you given any thought to our last conversation? Ach, I sometimes wish I could hear your voice. Maybe I’ll call you at the phone shanty sometime, even though it might be frowned on if we talk too often that way.

  There are some fine places to eat here in Wisconsin, but I haven’t found a shoofly pie like my Mamm’s. I will say, though, that the cheese is very tasty!

  As for learning the woodworking trade, I enjoy the creativity involved more than I ever expected.

  Alfred’s letter continued by describing some of the folks he’d met since first arriving there, and even though he seemed happy enough, sharing his activities with her, Eva could tell he must be homesick. It was odd, because she didn’t know how she should think about Alfred, uncertain how her new friendship with Jed Stutzman would play out once he returned to Ohio.

  It’s unusual to have the attention of two young men at the same time, and for both to be out of state, she thought as she pushed Alfred’s letter into her dresser drawer.

  Two buggies rolled into the driveway, and she figured they were candy customers. Happily, she hurried downstairs and into The Sweet Tooth just as they pulled into the parking spaces.

  As planned, Naomi stopped at Ida Mae’s after the washing was on the line. She’d noticed Frona and Eva outdoors exceptionally early getting theirs up, too. Not that she was in competition, but her neighbor to the west certainly made a valiant attempt to be first on Weschdaag mornings. After years of this nonsense, Naomi just let her win. What was the point? She’d once told this to Abner, who’d chortled.

  “Your father went to see Bishop Isaac first thing today,” Naomi informed Ida Mae on their ride to the General Store for sewing notions. “I know you’ll keep it to yourself, but it was ’bout Lily Esch’s possible whereabouts in Ohio. He’s mighty worried, as are the Esch boys.”

  Ida Mae gasped. “Lily’s made it all the way there?”

  “Evidently, there’s a young fella involved . . . an Englischer.”

  “Lily’s always been such a gut girl. What’s gotten into her?”

  Naomi nodded. “Poor thing, losing her mother threw her, I gather. We all know Dottie raised her girls right.”

  “Ach, Dottie would weep if she knew.”

  Naomi tried to relax her grip on the reins. “Have ya thought any more ’bout traveling to Paradise with me the end of this week to help with some sewin’ for your second cousin?”

  “Poor Connie must be really bad off if she can’t even hold a needle.”

  “She can’t thread one either, her wrist’s so painful,” Naomi added.

  “Honestly, I don’t see why she doesn’t have it put in a cast.”

  “Well, you and I both know why.”

  Ida Mae looked away, pulling on her shawl. “It wonders me why some people are timid ’bout getting medical help and others ain’t. It’s just odd.”

  “The community’s split down the middle on that.” Naomi waited for Ida Mae to say whether she would go or not.

  “I s’pose I could take one of my impatiens plants to Cousin Connie. Cheer her up, maybe.”

  “I think she’d like that, I surely do.” Naomi was relieved, since she hadn’t wanted to travel alone all the way south, though she’d made the trip by herself before.

  Naomi tapped on the carriage brake when they reached a steep decline. There was something else she thought Ida Mae should know. “Your brother Omar also went to speak with Bishop Isaac today. Sounds like your father bumped into him on the way in. Anyway, Omar asked outright what Bishop thought of him going ahead and registering to vote in the election.”

  Ida Mae’s eyes popped. “Ach, really?”

  “Know what the bishop said? He told Omar that if he fasted and prayed ’bout it for three days, the Lord God would show him what to do.”

  Ida Mae clapped her hands. “Well, ain’t that the best answer ya ever did hear?”

  “Your Dat completely agreed.”

  “And what did Omar say?”

  “Knowin’ Omar’s penchant for food, I would’ve thought he would say he’d keel over with starvation in three days.” Naomi shook her head. “But he’s considerin’ it.” She went on to say that when she’d tried to talk sense to him, he was as closed as a book. “The bishop was mighty prudent, if ya think about it, putting the decision right back in Omar’s hands.”

  “I do hope my brother is willing to fast and pray like the man of God asked.”

  “If he refuses, the voting issue will be the least of our fears.”

  They talked about other things for a while. Then, as they neared the store, Naomi asked, “By the way, how early did ya get your washing hung out today?”

  “Before breakfast. Why?”

  Naomi grinned at her. “Just curious.”

  At 12:42 that afternoon, Eva saw Jed pull into the parking area in front of The Sweet Tooth. She knew the exact time because she’d been watching the clock since the last few customers left, hoping Frona was busy writing to a couple of Ohio relatives about Lily’s whereabouts, as she’d volunteered to do.

  Eva put the last few triple chocolate–nut clusters onto wax paper to cool, so delighted at seeing him again, she did spontaneous little steps in place. Not a dance but nearly. “What if we did slip away for another walk?” she murmured, recalling yesterday and how they’d shared their hearts. She’d felt sad for his loss of his first love.

  Eva could hear Jed whistling as he tied the horse to the hitching rail out back. Shaking out the lower part of her black apron, she wanted to look as neat and presentable as she could once Jed came up the walkway and opened the shop door. Watching him from afar, she felt almost dazed at her good fortune—this especially handsome and kind young man seemed so eager to see her again.

  He wants to write to me, she reminded herself, aware of her own widening smile.

  Jed’s stride was long and even, and his hair shone in the sunlight as he approached the shop. His black suspenders were stark against his long-sleeved white shirt, its sleeves rolled up.

  “Hullo again.” He came inside and turned to quietly close the door.

  “You’re nearly on time,” she teased. It occurred to her how very comfortable she already felt with him.

  “I might’ve been earlier if there hadn’t been an accident out yonder.”

  “Oh dear. Hope no one was hurt.”

  “It looked like just a fender bender. Might’ve been a tourist who’d lost his way—the driver gawking about and not paying attention.”

  She’d seen plenty of automobiles racing around buggies, but she had never run across two cars in such a mishap. “Well, I’m glad you’re in one piece, Jed.”

  He brightened as he
met her gaze, then looked around the place. “So this is where you spend much of your time?”

  “The shop is only open four days a week—Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday—and never for more than a few hours. I do spend a fair amount of time makin’ goodies, though! Would ya like a tour of this small corner of my world?” She showed him the little kitchen, where she pointed out the chocolate-nut clusters cooling on the counter. Then she brought him back to the display case to show him other favorite offerings, including the Butterfinger truffles made with semisweet chocolate, fresh cream, and Butterfinger candy bars.

  “Choose a sample or two, if you’d like.”

  “They all look wunnerbaar-gut,” Jed said with a grin.

  She even led him behind the counter so he could see all the cubbyholes for storing paper bags and boxes, string, tape, and the like.

  “You’re very organized.” He moved closer to the display case, eyeing the truffles. “I’ll purchase a few of these,” he said, his nose practically touching the glass.

  “They were flyin’ off the shelf earlier.”

  Jed reached for his wallet and set it on the counter.

  She shook her head. “Ach, you treated me at the café . . . won’t ya let me treat you?”

  “That was our date, Eva. And if I lived round here, this would be just the first of many purchases.”

  She smiled and felt her face flush, surely as pink as the geraniums on Naomi’s porch. “I’d like to send some sweets along for your trip, all right?”

  Jed reluctantly gave in, and it took no time for her to gather up a half-dozen truffles and wrap them. “I’ve hired a van driver, since there are a few tools and other items to take back,” he explained. “Couldn’t see storin’ any of that in the luggage hold of a train, not when there’s a driver already going that direction.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got everything planned.” Oh, she wished he didn’t have to leave.