The Photograph

by Beverly Lewis

  Jed pondered her response.

  “Most of all, I wouldn’t sound Amish, if I could help it,” she continued.

  Jed nodded. According to Uncle Ervin’s friend, it was the woman’s accent that gave her away.

  “I’d also spend nearly all my time with Amish folk, since I’d be awfully homesick,” Bettina said, clinching his plan.

  Of course! Jed thought. There are oodles of Amish at Lehman’s Hardware. “I guess I just need to check with the locals . . . ask if there are any fancy folk hanging round Amish.”

  “Ach, Jed.” She stared at him, frowning. “Is this a real girl we’re talkin’ about?”

  “She’s very real, and she’s a runaway.”

  “Well then, I’m sure someone will know exactly who you’re looking for. But, Jed . . . most likely, even if ya could track down a girl like this, she might not have a thing to do with you. Runaways are fed up with bein’ told what to do and how to be.”

  Lillian, he thought. If Lily’s changed her name, what else has she changed?

  “Tell me more.” His sister stepped out of the horse stall and came to the door where Jed was working. Leaning on the door, she was clearly curious. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the girl you liked in Lancaster County, does it?”

  “There’s nothin’ to tell, frankly.”

  Bettina gave him a look. “I’ll keep mum, I promise.”

  He thought of Eva’s sisterly concern for Lily, and of Uncle Ervin’s comments—if they panned out. “I’ll let you know when or if I find out. How’s that?”

  Turning back, she slipped inside the other stall again and picked up the grooming brush once more. “It’ll be your fault if I don’t sleep tonight, ya know, wonderin’ what you’re up to.”

  “I’m just spinning my wheels. Prob’ly nothin’ will come of it.” He fluffed the bedding straw with a pitchfork. If Lily wanted to be fancy, that was her right, since she was old enough to make her own decisions. Even so, it was Eva he was concerned about, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had heard from Lily by now.

  And if not . . .

  What if I could bring Eva at least some measure of relief? But do I dare interfere in her life after messing up so badly?

  Yet Jed felt he had little hope of another chance with Eva if he did nothing about Lily. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was something.

  Later, when he and Bettina had finished with the horses, his sister headed to the house to help their mother with some hemming, and Jed made his way to the woodshed to split a pile of dry logs with his father.

  Right away, Jed brought up the idea of an Old Order Amish person trying to go English. Typically, he and Daed didn’t talk much when they worked together, but he wanted to hear what insight his father might have.

  “What’s this about going fancy?” His poor father looked ferhoodled.

  “Ain’t me, so don’t worry.”

  “’Tis gut. Thought I heard from the deacon you were planning to take baptismal classes this summer.”

  “Right.” Jed knew he’d better come up with something to shed a bit of light on what he was planning. “Someone I met in Pennsylvania has a relative who left the Amish community back there.”

  “And you’d like to locate him?”

  “Well, it’s a young woman, actually.”

  “I see.”

  Jed didn’t feel obliged to tell more. “I just thought you might’ve heard accounts of some Amish youth tryin’ to fit in with the outside world . . . and if they’re ever persuaded to return to their families. What helps them want to stay put once they’re back home?”

  Daed leaned his axe against the woodpile and scratched his neck. “You don’t hear of this a lot round here. Does the girl have a good church family to keep her from backsliding? Because none of us is immune to temptation, son.”

  “I know very little about her or the church district.”

  “Well, given the right—or wrong—circumstance, any of us is capable of sin.” His father quoted 1 Corinthians 10, verse 12. “‘Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.’”

  Jed had heard that very verse during Sunday sermons.

  “The Lord gives us the responsibility to keep track of each other.” Daed stopped to wipe his brow with the back of his shirt sleeve. “Makes me wonder where the young woman’s family is in all this.”

  “Sadly, her parents are deceased—her mother passed just recently.”

  “So then someone else needed to come alongside the girl to encourage her in the faith, ain’t so?”

  Jed wondered, now that his father had said this, if Lily’s brothers had been too caught up with their own families, perhaps, or if they weren’t even aware of Lily’s struggles. Surely the latter was true. Yet with a loving, caring sister like Eva, how could Lily have been enticed by the world?

  Daed had more to say. “The Deceiver of souls looks for discouraged and disconnected believers—’specially those isolated because of grief or disappointment. Such folks are cut off from the church body as a whole by their own doin’.” Daed looked off in the distance like he was remembering someone in particular. “You’ve known people like this, Jed. They tend to drift away like chaff in the wind.”

  Jed nodded, keenly listening. “I’d like to help this young woman, if I can find her.”

  “Be careful, son. You might not like what you discover. Satan’s trickery abounds.” Daed picked up his axe and began chopping again, and Jed worked, too, glad to help his wise father.

  May the Lord be with me, Jed prayed, wanting to do this for the right reason . . . though he could almost imagine Eva’s lovely face when she learned that Lily had been found.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE the next morning, Jed’s father opened his big Bible to the book of Proverbs. Mamm and Bettina were scrambling eggs and making waffles when Daed slid the Good Book under Jed’s nose. “Here’s another helpful verse to consider, son, concerning our conversation last night.”

  Jed read it silently. Where no counsel is, the people fall: but in the multitude of counselors there is safety.

  He thanked Daed, and during the silent table grace, Jed asked God for direction in his search. Please let me find some answers, O Lord.

  Following family worship after the meal, Bettina caught up with Jed as he was hitching up for work extra early so he could take off for Kidron at three o’clock that afternoon. “You must’ve talked to Daed ’bout what you told me,” she said as she held the horse steady for him.

  “It’s always a gut thing to get our father’s perspective.”

  Bettina agreed, smiling. “You said you’d let me know, remember?”

  He assured her he wouldn’t forget, if he even had anything to relay once all was said and done. The more he thought about Lily Esch, the more saddened he was that she’d allowed herself to become disconnected from her church . . . and, obviously, from her family. It just didn’t make sense—how could a wayward girl have such profound thoughts and ideas about life . . . and love?

  After a noon meal in which Menno, Emmanuel, and three farmhands had enjoyed Frona and Eva’s cooking, Eva slipped her homemade card for Naomi into an envelope she’d found in Mamma’s old writing desk. Eva and Frona then headed down Eden Road to Ida Mae’s house for Naomi’s birthday gathering. “Do ya think she’ll be surprised?” she asked.

  “Don’t know why not,” Frona replied. Like Eva, she wore her best blue dress and matching long apron.

  “I’d thought of giving Naomi something from Mamma’s dresser drawer—a pretty embroidered hankie or something like that, as a keepsake.”

  “Ain’t a normal sort of birthday gift, is it?”

  Eva glanced at Frona, who was apparently in a blue mood. “Would it be all right with you . . . when the time is right?”

  “Don’t we have more important things to think about today, Eva?”

  Without saying more, she matched her pace with Frona’s and kept quiet
for the duration.

  When they turned into Ida Mae’s lane, several neighbors had already arrived, including Sylvia and Josie, as well as Naomi’s daughters-in-law, Marian and Laura.

  “Ach, I never thought my birthday was somethin’ to celebrate much,” Naomi said, cheeks pink as she sat in the kitchen. “Not at my age, anyway.”

  “You ain’t that old, Mamma,” Ida Mae said, taking a dish of nuts to the table.

  Eva noticed the beautiful two-layer chocolate cake with two dishes of mints on either side. There was also a large glass pitcher of fruit punch. She deserves a nice celebration, Eva thought, glad Sylvia and Ida Mae had put their heads together and managed to get Naomi here without suspecting anything.

  The party commenced with a fast game of Dutch Blitz, which got as loud and lively as Eva had ever experienced. When things calmed down a bit, Ida Mae wanted Naomi to open her cards and small gifts—a stationery set and a large-print leather New Testament several of the women had gone together to purchase.

  Later, while they were enjoying birthday cake and ice cream, Naomi’s older daughter-in-law, Marian, began to share about a young Amish couple from New Holland who’d purchased the farm next to them. “I’m not sure if they’re kidding or not,” Marian said, “but they said they’d removed the fire alarms, sayin’ alls they need is a big bag of popcorn taped outside their bedroom door.”

  Marian had everyone’s attention round the table. “According to her, if the house catches fire while they’re asleep, the poppin’ corn will wake them up.”

  Eva was amused and looked over at Frona, who muttered under her breath and shook her head.

  “’Tis a joke, right?” Sylvia asked, her face reddening as soon as she’d spoken. “Surely that wouldn’t work.”

  Eva kept waiting to see if Marian’s expression changed, making it clear it was just a funny tale. But Marian took a bite of her cake and denied the other women’s comments that this must have been something she’d read in The Budget.

  “I wouldn’t lie,” Marian insisted. “You know well enough there are conservative Plain groups that prohibit fire alarms.”

  Naomi acknowledged this with a nod. “It’s comforting to know you can wholly trust our heavenly Father no matter what you do—install a fire alarm or not, or put slow-movin’ vehicle signs on your buggy. The Lord’s will is highest and best.”

  We can depend on God’s sovereign will, Eva agreed silently.

  ———

  Afterward, while Frona and Ida Mae cleaned up the kitchen, Eva and Naomi went to sit in the front room, the sunlight pouring in around them. “Are ya sayin’ that Alfred’s declared himself to you?” Naomi asked.

  Eva decided to tell her about the letters, the phone call, and the surprising invitation to move to Wisconsin. “The thing is, I’m not ready to take the serious step of relocating to allow him to court me.”

  “Did you let him know this?”

  “I’ve been praying ’bout it, just as I told him I would. Honestly, though, I’m not leaning in that direction a’tall.”

  “If your heart’s clearly against it, then you must say so.” Naomi crossed her legs at the ankles, her feet bare. She studied Eva. “But can ya live with that decision?”

  Eva sighed. “Maybe someday I might have feelings for him. Shouldn’t I just be patient? Give things more time?” She looked toward the window, still feeling Naomi’s gaze.

  “Are ya concerned you’ll end up a Maidel? Is that it, my dear?”

  “Maybe so.” Eva sighed. “I do want a loving husband and a family of my own someday.”

  Naomi rose and walked the length of the room, her hands clutched behind her back. Then, turning, she went to the tall, ornate grandfather clock and pulled the chain, watching first one weight rise, then the other. “You know what I believe?” She ambled back to sit again. “If the Good Lord wanted you married to Alfred, you’d find that kind of love in your heart right here and now, not hope it would blossom someday.”

  The wise, gentle words sounded like something Mamma might have said—Naomi cared so deeply about Eva’s future.

  “I daresay you can trust that your feelings aren’t there for this young man. Nor your commitment.”

  Eva’s mind was racing. “Denki for takin’ time to chat, ’specially on your birthday.”

  Naomi laughed a little and folded her hands in her ample lap. “I’m doin’ what I enjoy . . . spending time with one of Dottie’s dear girls.”

  Eva began to feel better as she clung to Naomi’s words on the way back to the house, where she and Frona set to shining their black church shoes for tomorrow’s visiting Sunday.

  “Did Naomi get you all straightened out?” Frona said, not looking up from where they were working out on the back porch. She dabbed more polish on one shoe at a time.

  “Jah . . . guess I have a letter to write,” Eva said.

  “Poor Alfred.”

  Eva ignored her. “Naomi was so pleased over the party. Makes me think we oughta do this more often.”

  “Well, not on my birthday.”

  Eva disregarded that comment, as well. When she’d buffed her shoes to a shine and left them to dry, Eva excused herself and went upstairs, feeling all in.

  Sitting on her bed with a sigh, she began to pray in earnest. When she was spent, Eva gave in to her mental exhaustion and leaned back on a pillow, promptly falling asleep.

  ———

  The sound of a horse neighing woke her, and Eva discovered she’d rolled over onto her side during her nap. She stretched and yawned. The small clock on the bedside table showed that a half hour had already passed, and so deep her sleep had been, she must have dreamed, although she didn’t recall the details. Even so, she was all the more certain that she could not marry Alfred. She’d had a taste of how it felt to really connect with someone, and even if she never heard from Jed again, it would not change the truth.

  I won’t settle for less than what God’s put in my heart. A lasting and meaningful love.

  Getting up, Eva walked to the writing desk and sat down with renewed resolve. She opened the narrow middle drawer and removed a single piece of stationery, then began to write.

  Saturday, June 21

  Dear Alfred,

  I hope you are doing well.

  I’ve given your invitation some thought, and after praying about it, I know I cannot accept.

  From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’re enjoying your work in Wisconsin, and the church district there, too. I don’t doubt you’ll make many new friends and sooner or later meet someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved.

  Thank you for being so kind to me. You’re a very fine man.

  Your friend,

  Eva Esch

  Chapter Thirty-six

  ONCE NOONTIME CAME AND WENT, Jed had caught himself glancing at the black wall clock every half hour at work. He had paced himself so that at three o’clock, he would be ready to meet his driver out front. Since Kidron was only twenty miles or so away, Jed knew he’d have ample time to look around there, pick up the items on his mother’s shopping list, and nose around for information about the young woman named Lillian. Even so, he really had no game plan. I’m looking to the Lord for that, he thought as he hung up his work apron and called good-bye to Perry and his uncle, then hurried out the door.

  “If you’ve never been to Lehman’s Hardware, you’ll be astonished at all there is to look at,” the driver, George Garver, told him. George had been driving the Amish for decades, according to Uncle Ervin, and came highly recommended.

  “I’ve been there a good number of times,” Jed said, opening his mother’s list. “I have a few things to locate while I’m there.”

  “Well, you’ll have no trouble, believe me. They’ve got just about everything.”

  “High on my mother’s priorities is an antique brass shopkeeper’s bell.”

  “Oh? Is she setting up shop out back?”

  “Hard to say.” Jed chuckled. “But
she’s real eager for some of Troyer’s trail bologna. Daed’ll like that, too.”

  “Ah, smoked over hickory wood—nothin’ like it,” George said, smacking his lips. “It really pays to buy in bulk, ya know. I’ll bet she wants some canning dome lids, too, and sugar. My wife gets all of her canning supplies at Lehman’s.”

  Nodding, Jed tuned out the driver, becoming lost in his own thoughts. Was it even conceivable to think he could find Eva’s younger sister? And if so, could he talk Lily, a girl he’d never met, into returning home to Eden Valley?

  Just as Jed remembered, Lehman’s Hardware was flawlessly organized into sections—hardware, kitchen wares, canning supplies, handcrafted items, wicker baskets of all shapes and sizes, and large appliances, such as wood-burning cookstoves and gas-powered ranges, too. There were clocks, radios, and batteries of all manner of type and voltage, and books such as Baer’s Almanac, The Foxfire Books, and a book demonstrating how to build your own root cellar. He was drawn to the home and farming tools and spent several minutes perusing the shelves.

  Then he wandered over to the maple-sugaring supplies, vegetable and herb seed packets, and old-timey poplar fruit baskets, fruit harvesters, and food grinders.

  I sure could lose track of time here, he thought, going to get some help from a nearby clerk, a Mennonite woman around his mother’s age who welcomed him, then proceeded to share that she’d worked at many different retail outlets, and Lehman’s was the best of all. With her assistance, in short order, he managed to gather up all of the items for his mother.

  At the checkout, when Jed finally asked his question, the cheery woman said she’d never heard of a Lillian from Lancaster County or anywhere else. “Are ya sure that’s the name?” the clerk asked as she searched for the price on the brass shopkeeper’s bell.

  “It’s quite possible she goes by Lily.” It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

  “If she’s going English, maybe she’s gone south, where there’s a nondenominational ministry for runaway Plain youth . . . helps them get acclimated to the outside.”