“What if she’s somewhere else?” the bishop asked. “Has anyone considered that?”
“Anything’s possible,” Menno said. “Which makes me wonder if we need to do more.”
The bishop inhaled deeply. “You’re not thinkin’ of getting the authorities involved, are ya?”
“She can’t really be classified as missing,” Menno said, his eyes serious.
“Nee . . . since there’s a note in her handwriting.” Bishop Isaac glanced over at Eva. “Do you still have it?”
Eva nodded. “Would you like to see it?”
“If ya don’t mind.”
She was actually glad for the opportunity to leave the kitchen, tense as the atmosphere was. How was Frona managing? If she knew her sister, she would soon have coffee made and poured, and produce a plate of cookies, too.
Upstairs, Eva found the note, and while she didn’t mind showing the bishop, she almost wished she hadn’t offered it. Lily had written this only to Eva. “On this very desk.” She ran her hand over the smooth surface—some of Dat’s best handiwork.
How many times had their father sanded down this desk to make it extra smooth? She and Lily had watched him that day, years ago. Dat was perspiring and covered with sawdust from his work, yet he never would have considered stopping till the finished product was ready to be stained. She had been so delighted when he’d eventually placed it in this bedroom.
Drawing a sigh, Eva hoped the bishop wouldn’t keep the note.
Naomi wasn’t expecting their son Omar that evening, but all the same, he walked right into her kitchen without so much as a knock on the side door. Unlike their other grown children, who knocked or rang the bell, he had never been one to do so, even once he’d left home to marry. Evidently Omar felt the most comfortable here. His light brown hair looked darker than usual tonight. Oily from working in the fields all day, Naomi thought, wishing he might have respected his father enough to clean up.
Abner invited him to sit at the table, where he and Naomi had been enjoying each other’s company over a slice of snitz pie.
Naomi offered both men a cup of coffee, and Omar a piece of pie, which he politely declined, saying he’d already had dessert at home. Omar jokingly made a point of reminding her that he took his coffee black.
“Did ya think I’d forgotten?” she chuckled and opened the cupboard for one of her new coffee mugs.
Omar smiled as she poured him a cup before joining him on the wood bench. “I’d like to talk over my political leanings with ya, Daed.”
“Ach, son.” Naomi turned quickly, speaking out of turn.
Abner waved his hand and sent her a message with his eyes: Let him get this out.
Omar began again. “I know the Scripture verse from Romans the brethren like to quote: ‘And be not conformed to this world . . .’”
“I read that one aloud quite a lot to you and your brothers and sisters while you were growin’ up,” Abner said.
Omar nodded. “That you did. And just so ya know where I stand on this, I don’t believe that verse has anything to do with voting or performing jury duty, neither one.”
“Jury duty?” Abner grimaced and took a slow sip of his coffee.
“Jah, I could be asked to serve once I’m a registered voter,” Omar said, fiddling with the spoon near his coffee mug.
“Have ya talked this over with one of the ministerial brethren?” Naomi asked.
“I followed the bishop’s urging and spent time fasting and prayin’,” Omar said. “I really believe the Lord is directing me to vote.”
Naomi was pleased to hear he had gone ahead and done this, but she was surprised, even disappointed, that he was still moving forward with registering. We’re citizens of heaven, she thought.
Abner glanced at Naomi.
“For this election, at least,” Omar continued, “I plan to vote on local ballot issues . . . and possibly in the presidential election.”
Abner set down his coffee mug. “The outcome’s not a’tall what I’d hoped for, but I’m glad you’ve taken time to consider this, Omar. It’s important not to let the world direct our behavior . . . or the way we think. You’ve always been such an upstandin’ church member.”
Omar pushed his fingers through his bushy beard. “I know you and Mamm want me to be a gut testimony. Ya don’t have to worry whatsoever. My wife and nine children are on my mind, as well as my baptismal vow.”
Abner gave him a nod, and Naomi sighed.
“I’ll be prayin’ for ya,” Naomi said gently. “Like always.” She still didn’t understand Omar’s fascination with voting, but she was relieved that it seemed to be where his interest in the world ended. If only the same were true for Lily Esch . . .
Chapter Twenty-nine
PRIOR TO THE SHARED MEAL after Preaching, Jed encountered Bettina’s young fiancé, Levi Hershberger, out near the stable while the courting-age men waited to be called indoors.
“My cousin Marilyn Halverston might show up ridin’ with Bettina and me tonight after Singing, if you’re interested,” Levi said, his hands stuffed deep in his trouser pockets.
Marilyn Halverston? Jed was surprised. Marilyn was an exceptionally pretty girl, sweet spirited and soft-spoken, but her beau had gotten into some trouble, left the church, and been shunned.
“Marilyn doesn’t have any expectations at all—she knows you’ve been through a rough patch, too,” Levi continued. “It’d strictly be a favor to me and Bettina.”
“A favor, you say?” Reluctantly, Jed agreed to the double date. “Just this once, though.” He laughed a little. “Guess it’s one way for me to keep an eye on you and my spunky sister.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed, and then he chuckled as he seemed to realize Jed was joking. “Tell Bettina for me, okay?”
Jed said he would. It wasn’t long before die Youngie were called in to eat, and as Jed moved toward the house, he noticed Marilyn and three of her sisters walking together, all wearing pastel blue dresses with white organdy aprons. He caught Marilyn’s eye. She gave him a demure smile before looking away.
I hope I haven’t made a mistake, Jed thought.
A month ago he would have thought nothing of her innocent flirtation, but ever since his visit to Eden Valley, things were different. There was only one smile he longed to see now, and it wasn’t Marilyn’s.
Jed appreciated the thick shelter of trees as he and Bettina talked after the light meal that Sunday afternoon. They strolled through the well-manicured backyard, heading through the field lanes, where their father’s six-mule team moved from one field to the next. Across the way, the neighbor’s windmill turned slowly, creaking as the sun poured down on tall meadow grass.
“Daed talked to Levi first, then to his father,” Bettina said with a glance back at the house. “He’s convinced Levi is a gut man, Jed.”
You’re still too young, Jed thought, not wanting to lose his closest sister.
She poked his elbow. “So ya really don’t have to worry ’bout me.”
“Just sayin’ it doesn’t make it true.” He watched the play of emotions on her face; Bettina wore her feelings on her sleeve. All the same, he was determined not to point out that just because Dat thought Levi Hershberger was a good man didn’t mean she was ready to be a wife in charge of a farmhouse and, in time, a mother.
Bettina tugged on her white Sunday apron as they walked in the heat of the day. “Both Daed and Mamm are leanin’ my way little by little.”
“Like all parents, they want to see you happily married,” he said, knowing she was thoroughly caught up in her love for Levi.
“I am happy! Why can’t you be happy for me?”
They walked without speaking for a moment, and Jed picked up a brittle twig and tossed it.
Bettina folded her hands, keeping up with his pace. “Are you worried maybe because of Lydiann’s passing?”
Her expression was soft and respectful. She’d loved Lydiann, too. Everyone had.
“Ain’t fair for
me to hold you back,” he replied, “just because I’ve found it hard to move forward.”
“Well, you are, though, whether you like it or not. Levi and I are prayin’ for you.”
He smiled. “Maybe it’s working.”
“What do ya mean?”
He hesitated. “Well . . .”
“Well?”
He plunged ahead. “If ya must know, I met a girl in Lancaster County.”
“Honestly?” Bettina stopped walking, her face beaming. “What’s her name?”
“Eva Esch.”
“And you like her?”
He breathed deeply of the warm air. “I think so.”
“You’re not sure?”
“Well . . . she’s compassionate and expressive, but not too chatty. She’s really smart and—”
“And is she perty?”
He paused, embarrassed. “Jah.”
“You have to think about it?”
“Nee. Ain’t that.”
Her eyes were wide. “Jed, this is great news. And you know why, too.”
“I s’pose it means I’m ready to let go of the past.”
“So,” she said, “I have to ask: Why’d you agree to double-date with Levi and me tonight? Aren’t you goin’ to court this Eva from afar . . . write to her?”
“I doubt she’d agree to it.” He shook his head. “Things went sour between us right before I left to come home.”
“Sour? What happened?”
“A misunderstanding.” Jed shrugged.
“But still, if she’s someone special . . .”
“Jah, she was.”
“Was?” Bettina shook her head and turned to fall into step with him as they began walking again. “You can’t just ignore this, can ya, Jed?”
He thought of the book and the photo, and of meeting Eva, who had been understandably distracted with Lily’s disappearance. Even now, he recalled the look of heartache when Eva had realized the truth—when he had realized it—that he’d been carrying around a picture of her missing sister all along. Things had been so muddled up in his mind.
“Trust me, it’s not fixable. Eva doesn’t have a very high opinion of me anymore.”
“Everything’s fixable!” Bettina blew out a breath. “Honestly, sometimes it wonders me if some men are just Dummkopps!”
Jed laughed. “But you still love me, ain’t?”
“You’re my brother. I have to, according to Scripture.”
“That’s the only reason?”
“Jah.”
He folded his arms and puffed out his cheeks, and she giggled. He reached for a branch overhead and pulled off a leaf, tossing it at her.
“Seriously, Jed, is there anything I can do?”
“Prob’ly not.”
“Well, you know that I’m here for ya. Besides, my prayers are like God’s little arrows aimed right at your heart!”
He grinned.
“Maybe I could write to your Eva and beg her to forgive you.”
Jed chuckled. “Don’t you dare!”
“Well, try to have some fun tonight with us,” Bettina said. “Who knows, maybe Marilyn will be the perfect match.”
I had that once. . . .
Jed contemplated the evening ahead. I can at least be friendly.
Jed’s pent-up tension on the walk to the barn Singing dissolved as soon as he entered the upper level, where a long line of well-scrubbed young men in white shirts and black suspenders sat on one side of the long table. The young women, ages sixteen through about nineteen, sat on the opposite side, still wearing their best dresses and crisp white aprons from Preaching earlier.
He lifted his voice in unison with the other men. Catching Bettina’s eye, he smiled. He envied her rosy glow—surely she looked forward to spending time with Levi, who was as polite to Jed tonight as he was admiring of Bettina.
Jed didn’t dare look Marilyn’s way, not wanting to make her feel self-conscious. No pressure, he thought while waiting for Perry’s younger brother Abe to blow the pitch pipe and lead out in the next song, “Nearer My God to Thee.”
Eva hadn’t planned to wander out to the old playhouse at dusk. It wasn’t a place she and Lily had typically gone after daylight hours, but Eva needed some time alone. There were many thoughts in her head, and the steady chirp of crickets soothed her, as did the pretty pink still in the sky.
“Lily hasn’t come home, dear Lord,” she whispered, not accustomed to saying her prayers aloud. “Yet Thou art with her always. . . . I believe this with all my heart.”
The truth was Lily’s return home looked hopeless, apart from a miracle.
She noticed several white birch trees had been toppled by windstorms last winter. Seeing them felled made her even sadder, and she quickened her pace, carrying her father’s large lantern. She had gone to check on the livestock after supper, especially the new calves. She recalled Dat’s gentle way with the newborn animals. All her years growing up, she had witnessed his expert help and gentle care during difficult births for not only their cows, but also for one of their horses.
He was nurturing with us, too.
When Eva reached the little shack, she opened the door and stepped inside, having to duck now that she was all grown-up. It struck her as comical that their great-grandfather hadn’t considered that his grown daughters might someday want to show their own little girls this place. No doubt they would have had to stoop just as Eva was now.
Looking around, she set down the lantern and felt the urge to sweep out the cobwebs and make the small window shiny and spotless. In memory of Lily.
“That’s silly,” she said right out. “My sister’s not dead.”
Just ferhoodled . . .
Eva leaned against the wall, still crouched lest her head bump the low ceiling. There was no need for tears. Even so, she was having one of those moments Dat used to talk about—when something sweet comes to mind, and you want to cherish it for as long as possible. Till daily chores and other things push in, and you forget why your heart was so tender.
She appreciated that her father’s passing was a gift in a sense. His dying first had spared him the terrible pain of losing Mamma. He loved her that much, she thought. Though poor Mamma had to bear the sting of Dat’s passing.
Moving toward the east-facing window, she slid her fingers along its frame, where she and Lily had long ago discovered a small piece of paper—a note their great-grandfather’s little girls must have written and pressed into the wood frame, concealing it for posterity. Eva eyed the spot where she was sure the note had always been. The last time she and Lily played there, Lily had pulled it out and waved it around, chanting the quote from Little Women: “Take some books and read; that’s an immense help, and books are always good company if you have the right sort.”
Wondering if the note had fallen, perhaps, Eva brought the lantern closer and searched around the floor near the window, then carried it all around the small square of a room, bending low to look.
But the note seemed to be gone.
“At least I have my memories of it,” Eva whispered, blue that the age-old paper was missing.
After the actual Singing, couples began to pair up—some were prearranged double dates, like Jed and Marilyn with Levi and Bettina, while others were known courting couples. The youth in their church district were not as secretive about their dating partners as were other districts in both Ohio and Pennsylvania. A wise thing, Jed thought, especially because it had given his parents the opportunity to discuss things sensibly with Bettina, airing their concerns about her marrying so young.
“Are ya comfortable?” he asked Marilyn as they got settled in the second bench seat, behind Levi and Bettina in the enclosed surrey. The details of the carriage interior weren’t clear in the starlight, and Jed wondered who’d built it, then chastised himself for not paying attention to his date. “Once a buggy maker, always a buggy maker,” Uncle Ervin often said.
“It’s a nice night for ridin’,” Marilyn commented a
s she put on her black outer bonnet. Levi had mentioned there were several warm blankets in the back if they got chilly.
Levi and Bettina visited quietly up front, and Jed wished Bettina would turn around and address either him or Marilyn. But for the moment, her sister and fiancé were too caught up in each other.
“Which schoolhouse did you attend?” he asked Marilyn to break the ice.
She described the location, a few blocks north of the railroad tracks, evidently not realizing that had been the scene of Lydiann’s fatal accident. It was all Jed could do not to visibly wince.
“You must’ve gone to the school close to your father’s house,” Marilyn said.
He told her where and quickly changed the subject, asking now if she was busy with the family garden, which got her talking about the many types of vegetables she and her sister had planted.
“We’re out waterin’ by hand a lot since we haven’t gotten as much rain as usual for June.”
“Not as gut as water from the sky.”
“Nee . . . and hand carryin’ water isn’t the best use of my time, either. Though I’m not complainin’, really.”
A cloud passed over the moon, and suddenly the buggy was cloaked in shadows. He remembered taking Eva in Jonas Byler’s carriage and feeling frustrated because he couldn’t see her face in the darkness.
Marilyn continued to talk about her day, and Jed could detect his sister’s soft giggles in front of him, but his mind was hundreds of miles away.
He had told Eva he would write but hadn’t. The truth was, while he doubted she’d want to hear from him, he was curious if Lily had returned home, or if they’d gotten word of her whereabouts. Jed regretted again his final visit in Eva’s beloved candy shop.
“It won’t be mine much longer,” she’d told him while showing him the shop, her eyes glistening with sadness, as if her whole purpose was about to be taken from her.
“Jed?”
He jerked to attention. Marilyn was talking to him, and he hadn’t heard a word.
The Photograph Page 18