The Photograph

by Beverly Lewis

  “Oh, praise be!” she said again and again, running now up the long driveway toward Frona, clutching the letter to her chest to protect it from what was now a downpour. “It’s from Lily! Oh, Frona . . .”

  Frona brightened but stated, “First things first,” blinking through the deluge. The horse was still half in and half out of the harness and needed to be stabled and rubbed down and watered. Both girls were getting drenched as Eva returned from quickly putting the letter in the house for safekeeping.

  Eva worked as fast and as efficiently as she could. With Frona’s good help, they finally finished—the longest and soggiest twenty-five minutes ever.

  Once Prince was settled in his stall and Dat’s fine carriage was parked, Eva scurried into the house and washed her hands, waiting for Frona to do the same. “I’m soaked clear through to the skin,” she said, shivering.

  They took time to change into dry clothes before sitting down at the table. There, Eva opened Lily’s letter with trembling hands and began to read aloud.

  “June 9

  Dear Frona and Eva,

  If I know you, you’re probably both very concerned about me.

  But happily, I am safe and staying with a large family who runs a dairy farm, helping out as I can to earn my room and board. In my free time, I often get to see my boyfriend—an Englischer. He’s one of the reasons I came here to live, and oh, it’s been wonderful to have so much time with him!

  I should have told you what I was planning, except I feared you’d try to stop me. It was wrong, and I pray you forgive me.

  It’s taking some real courage to be accepted by English folks, but I’m doing my best, and you mustn’t worry about me. Promise?

  I love you, sisters . . . and my whole family back there in Eden Valley.

  Yours always,

  Lily Esch”

  “She sounds quite settled,” Frona said, eyes misting. “Is there a return address?”

  Eva showed her the front of the envelope. “The postmark is Wooster, for goodness’ sake!”

  “You don’t see dairy farms in cities, so is she really where she says?”

  Eva scanned the letter once more. “It’s odd. I mean, if Lily was gonna write and tell us she’s safe and happy, then why not reveal exactly where she is? I don’t understand.”

  “She sounds too happy ’bout her beau, if ya ask me.”

  Eva nodded. “I hope she doesn’t forget us.”

  Frona slipped her arm around Eva, and they sat that way for a moment, the letter before them.

  At last they rose, and Frona laid out their money on the table and began to count it quietly. Eva set to work making a light supper, since they’d snacked here and there at market, what with the many vendors offering free samples.

  Lily’s letter stirred up a feeling of helplessness in Eva that she found hard to endure. How could she feel good knowing Lily was struggling? “It’s taking some real courage to be accepted.”

  According to what she’d written, Lily might actually be living with Plain folks, Eva thought, considering the reference to a dairy farm. This was heartening, but it didn’t line up with what Fannie had told them about Lily’s plan to stay with her boyfriend’s married sister.

  Eva set to work chopping cabbage for slaw.

  Frona looked up. “Still thinking ’bout Lily’s letter?”

  Eva admitted she was and set the knife down on the cutting board. “She’s not interested in being found, is she?”

  Frona shook her head. “She’s made that clear.”

  Hearing Frona’s opinion out in the open like that made it seem all the more certain.

  During evening Bible reading and prayers, Eva sat quietly, respectfully, noting Lily’s regular spot. Eva’s emotions were emerging in a new way, and while on one hand she sensed a burden roll from her shoulders in relief at finally hearing something, she was equally troubled—even angry—over Lily’s apparent apathy toward her and Frona. And everyone else in our family, too. Eva had expected more from the sister she’d known her whole life.

  Is this what happens—the world changes who you are?

  Her talk with Tilly had addressed numerous things but nothing like this, and Eva hardly knew what to make of Lily’s letter as a whole. Still, she refused to doubt there was hope Lily might find her wits and come home.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS were dreary with rain, the thunder waking Eva in the night, then the steady downpour on the roof lulling her back to sleep.

  Each morning, when Menno and Emmanuel came into the utility room to fill their thermoses with cold water at the sink, they seemed thankful to be in out of the rain, even taking a few minutes to visit with Frona and Eva. Emmanuel, especially, was interested in sampling Eva’s new concoctions for The Sweet Tooth, more than happy to taste test.

  Once the worst of the heavy rains had passed, Eva inspected the flower beds and saw that the delicate petunias had been beaten to the ground, and there were deep ruts in the soil of the vegetable garden.

  At the designated time for Alfred’s phone call Tuesday afternoon, Eva was pleased when Frona left the house for Ida Mae’s to help make strawberry pies for several families, including the two preachers’. She’ll be gone long enough for me to talk to Alfred and return home, Eva thought, calling for Max as she hurried across the backyard.

  The grass was soggy, and she was glad they’d kept Mamma’s old work boots so she could tromp through the meadow. Max kept running circles around her, looping forward, then back—the finest dog ever, and most companionable, too.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Eva could see Menno and the other workers moving from the stable to the barn, where grain and hay were stored. She realized then how peculiar it would be to experience whatever adjustments might come once Menno and Bena moved in. For whoever ends up staying on here as a mother’s helper.

  Naomi Mast had once said that change was inevitable. “It’s one of the things you can always count on,” she’d said. The observation had made Eva think.

  She crossed a rise covered with wet maidenhair ferns; these volunteers had taken over the place since Dat’s passing. Their roots were solidly placed, and unless they were mowed down or intentionally dug up, they were there to stay.

  Transplants, like Lily? Oh, I hope not.

  The old wooden telephone shed came into view, but because the preachers had deliberately placed it in the middle of a stand of fast-growing silver maples, a person had to know where it was positioned in order to find it.

  Moving down the muddy path that led to the narrow shanty, Eva breathed in the thick scent of damp earth and bark. The meadow grass looked taller and deeper in hue because of recent rains.

  Eva checked her wristwatch. Six minutes before Alfred’s call.

  For as long as she’d known him, Alfred had been prompt and a person of his word. But what he wanted to discuss today, she couldn’t be sure, and she curled her toes in her Mamma’s boots, shaky as a newborn calf.

  Eva remained just outside the door of the phone shed. She disliked standing inside, too aware of the cobwebs she often batted down with her hand in an attempt to dismantle any evidence of spiders—her least favorite insect in God’s collection of bugs.

  The last time Eva had come here was cloaked with sadness, for it was the day she’d run headlong through the deep snow to dial 9-1-1. Mamma was near death’s door, and the ambulance had arrived too late for the paramedics to revive her.

  Max wagged his tail and panted as he looked up at Eva. A butterfly caught his attention, and he turned and bolted after it. Saturday is Naomi’s surprise birthday party, Eva thought, looking forward to making a pretty card to take to Ida Mae’s when the rest of the womenfolk arrived after noon with cake and ice cream. We’ll have us a nice time. . . .

  The phone rang loudly, and she stepped inside the shed. “Hullo?” she answered, suddenly feeling bashful.

  “Eva, it’s Alfred. Wie bischt?”

  “Fine . . . and you?”
Truthfully, she wasn’t feeling altogether fine just then. He sounded different to her, or maybe it was the long-distance connection.

  “I’ve been looking forward to callin’,” Alfred said, then went on to mention the weather, one of his favorite topics. “Heard it’s been raining quite a lot there.”

  “The fields are like sponges.”

  He laughed a little. “Hope ya wore your boots.”

  She told him she had. “Is it nice out there?”

  “Not too hot, which is always helpful when you’re workin’ inside a woodshop.”

  She let him talk about his work, noting his obvious enthusiasm.

  “The more I learn, the more I believe I’m cut out for woodworking.”

  She smiled at the clever quip and wondered if he was aware of what he’d said.

  “I really enjoy handling different types of woods and such, Eva—each job brings something new. It’s far more creative than farming, of course. Less reliant on the elements, too.”

  This was a surprise. Never had she expected to hear Alfred say a word against farming.

  “There’s plenty to learn, of course, but it seems I’ve got a knack for it, or so my boss tells me.”

  “I’m happy for ya,” she said.

  “But that’s not the only reason I called. I have a terrific idea, and I hope you’ll agree.”

  She listened, unsure what was on his mind.

  “You might have noticed I’ve written about the young people here and some of the places I enjoy. The countryside is beautiful, too. It’s a growing area for gut reason.”

  Where’s he going with this? Eva wondered.

  “It’s happened awful fast, but I’ve been offered a job as a shop assistant. I’ll continue to learn the trade as I go, like an apprentice, but with decent pay.” He stopped for a second. “Enough for me to settle here.”

  Alfred’s not coming back?

  He went on. “So I got to thinkin’, instead of waiting till we marry, I’d like for you to come here for our courtship.”

  She was stunned.

  “What would ya think of that, Eva? I’ve already found a nice place for you to stay.”

  Well, she didn’t think much of it at all. No, she could just envision poor Frona living all alone, bouncing around in their parents’ large house until Menno and his family moved in. Or maybe he’d move in all the sooner, Eva didn’t know.

  “This is so sudden,” she said. “I hardly know what to say.”

  “I miss seein’ you, Eva. It’d be wunnerbaar-gut to have ya out here with me.”

  How could she say she’d think about it when she just wanted to hang up the phone?

  “Ach, Alfred, I didn’t envision our courtship progressing quite this fast . . . ’specially with Lily gone an’ all.” Feeling cornered, she wanted to still her racing heart.

  “Jah, I wondered how you were holding up when Mamm said there’d been no news.”

  Eva nodded into the phone. “It’s one of the worst things to happen to my family.”

  “I wish I could comfort you in person, Eva,” he said softly. Then, going on, he said, “I could easily arrange for you to be here within a few weeks.”

  She considered his remarkable offer, but things were moving much too quickly. “If you’re willing to wait, Alfred, I’d like to think about it. And meanwhile, we could discuss this further by mail, all right?”

  “I’ll wait, jah.” His voice brightened considerably. “I’ll be glad to.”

  After they said good-bye and hung up, she walked back over the waterlogged pasture toward home. “’Tis unbelievable,” she whispered.

  Their spitz sprinted up behind her, then slowed to walk alongside. “I’d miss you, dear Max,” she said, running her hand across the length of his white back. “And everyone here in Eden Valley.” Just then Eva realized how happy she might be feeling about such an unusual proposal if it were coming from Jed.

  But that door appears to be closed, she thought regretfully.

  During a short break that afternoon, Jed slipped away to Uncle Ervin’s office area to use the phone. Searching the yellow pages, he found the number for the Ohio Chamber of Commerce.

  Immediately, Jed was encouraged when he spoke with a woman who seemed eager to help. “I live here in Ohio,” he explained, “but I’d like to request a listing for tourist accommodations in Plain communities.” He told her that he’d heard there was such a list, which included Mennonite and Amish guest housing.

  “I can mail it to you, sir.” The woman asked for his name and address.

  Jed gave her the information, then thanked her and said good-bye, his spirits rising.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  FRIDAYS WERE TYPICALLY FRENZIED at the carriage shop, and this one was no different as Jed worked on his assigned surrey. He and Perry had to have their six-day workweek wrapped up before the Lord’s Day—from the earliest time of their apprenticeship, Uncle Ervin had nudged them to be as productive as possible.

  Jed was meticulous while finishing the flooring of the large family carriage. All the while, he could hear Uncle Ervin making small talk with Perry, who was building a two-wheeled cart, the simplest type of buggy.

  Perry was describing a recent visit to Charm, where he’d run into some old school chums, one of whom was leaving the Amish life behind. Uncle Ervin wagged his head at that, then said something that caught Jed’s attention.

  “Speaking of Amish going to the world, I ran into a farmer friend, Abram Kurtz, who grew up in Lancaster County but now lives in Kidron,” Uncle Ervin was saying. “Abram was in line at Lehman’s Hardware behind an Englischer girl, who was all dolled up in earrings and makeup, short skirt, fancy hairdo, but—get this—she had an Amish accent a mile wide and kept mixin’ up her Dutch with English.”

  “Not fancy a’tall, I’m thinkin’,” Perry interjected. “You can take the girl out of the Amish, but you can’t take the Amish out of the girl!”

  Ervin nodded. “Abram was convinced she wasn’t from anywhere in Ohio!”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He could tell by her accent she was from his old stompin’ grounds back in Pennsylvania.”

  Jed turned to get a better listen, very curious.

  Perry slapped his knee, fully engaged, and Ervin kept going. “So Abram decided to have some fun with her and said right out loud, ‘What part of Lancaster County are you from?’”

  Ervin continued his story. “Well, I guess the young woman turned as white as a sheet in the wind. And Abram took it even further and said he had some friends who lived south of Strasburg—asked if she knew ’em.”

  Perry howled with laughter.

  “Her mouth dropped, and right quick, he offered a handshake and introduced himself all proper-like. She played along, it seemed, told her name, but it wasn’t Amish, let me tell you. Then suddenly, she excused herself like she’d forgotten something, and rushed out of the store, leaving her things behind.”

  Perry shook his head. “Guess it ain’t funny after all.”

  Ervin agreed. “If ya leave the People, son, you’ll spend the rest of your life pretending to be what you’re not.”

  Perry nodded and glanced at Jed.

  Unable to keep quiet any longer, Jed asked, “So, what was the young woman’s name?”

  Ervin thought for a moment. “Well now, I don’t recall.” He was frowning, apparently still trying to remember. “Wait a minute. Jah, I believe ’twas something like . . . Lillian.”

  Perry harrumphed and stepped back to use the level on the buggy box he was constructing. “Doesn’t sound very Amish, does it?”

  Ervin agreed. “But the Pennsylvania Amish do use some different first names than round here.”

  Lillian? An Amish girl from Lancaster County?

  “What’re the chances?” Jed murmured, going over to Perry’s fine-looking two-wheeler. He commented on the well-built base, hoping his uncle might say more about the conversation with his friend. Finally Jed asked, “So this
was at Lehman’s Hardware, ya say?”

  Ervin gave him a quizzical look. “Jah, in Kidron.”

  “Small town,” Jed added casually.

  “Sure is,” Ervin said.

  Too small to hide in, Jed thought. A sudden idea presented itself, and Jed knew right where he was going to be tomorrow—if he could work fast enough. And if I can hire a driver, too.

  After supper that evening, while his father and the neighboring farmer were nailing together beehive frames, Jed offered to help Bettina groom the horses. The stable smelled of fresh bedding straw, and he drank in the scent—he missed some aspects of daily farm life after spending nearly all of his daylight hours at the carriage shop.

  “I need to pick your brain,” he told his sister with a glance over the horse’s mane.

  “Sounds painful.” She smirked in the horse stall next to Jed.

  “I’m serious.”

  “What’s on your mind?” she asked, grooming brush in hand.

  “It might sound peculiar, but let’s say you decided to go fancy and wanted to hide from your family in the outside world—”

  “What on earth?” Bettina blinked, her eyebrows rising. “Somethin’ you’re not telling me, Jed?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not about me, Simbel—silly.”

  “Who, then?”

  “Just put your thinkin’ cap on for a minute and help me out.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t dress Plain, that’s for sure.”

  Obviously, Jed thought. “So how would I spot you if you looked like every other Englischer?”

  “Oh, I see.” Bettina stopped her brushing and placed her hand on the chestnut mare. “You must be lookin’ for a girl who’s gone a little overboard. She wouldn’t have a very gut fashion sense—for an Englischer, that is. She’d look fancy but a little off.”

  “How do ya mean?”

  “If it was me, I’d be the one trying too hard to fit in. First, I’d cut my hair real short and maybe color it, too.” Bettina touched her auburn hair where it was visible outside the white bandanna. “How would I look as a brunette?”