The Stone Wall

by Beverly Lewis

  Anna remembered that the Amish one-room schools had started more than a month ago now. She hadn’t met Aden and Barbara’s two sons, but Emmie brightened at Barbara’s comment about the lasagna being her cousins’ favorite.

  Gabe must have picked up on that, as well, because he asked his daughter, “Did ya hear that? Jesse and Chris like this meal, too.”

  Emmie turned to look at Anna, still smiling.

  “I daresay that’s a jah,” Barbara said, reaching now to pass the buttered pole beans and then the cucumber salad.

  Aden and Gabe began to talk about the tree house construction business and how much more time Gabe had for his primary work since the horse-therapy sessions were done for the season.

  Anna heard Gabe say that he hoped to recruit more volunteers for next year. I wonder if he’ll talk with Heidi and Eleanor’s cousin, she thought, recalling Shelley’s interest when they’d gone swimming.

  Barbara asked Anna if she was doing any handiwork at present, and Anna mentioned the unique fabric-inset cards she was making with Sadie. “She’s been selling quite a lot at Saturday market.”

  Barbara glanced at Emmie, then back at Anna. “Do ya sew, Anna?”

  “Well, I make all my clothing,” Anna replied, wondering why she’d asked.

  “Have ya ever made doll clothes?”

  “When I was younger, all the time.”

  Emmie’s faint smile grew into a full-blown grin, and Anna made a mental note.

  Later, while eating their apple Danish dessert topped with homemade vanilla ice cream, Anna caught Gabe looking her way, and she felt herself blush. Why did he and Barbara invite me here? she wondered.

  Chapter 39

  The after-dessert conversation grew more lively when Gabe brought up the Harvest Days Festival coming up next weekend at the Landis Valley Village and Farm Museum. Barbara quickly said she thought Anna would enjoy it, while Emmie rubbed her eyes and yawned.

  Barbara rose from her chair and reached for Emmie’s hand, and the two of them left the kitchen for what Anna assumed was a nap. As soon as it was appropriate, Anna would thank Barbara for inviting her, then make her exit.

  Gabe will surely just walk the short distance home, she thought, hoping that was the case.

  When Barbara returned to the table, she began to pour more coffee and even offered warm cider. To be polite, Anna lingered as the conversation turned to apple harvesting, and Aden voiced his opinion about the kind of apple that was the sweetest. He was a big fan of the Fuji, saying its sugar levels were higher than those of the Gala or Golden Delicious.

  “The best apple variety depends on what you’re usin’ them for,” Barbara said with a smile. “A good apple for dumplings isn’t the same as a good apple for cider, for instance.”

  “True,” Gabe said, excusing himself to go and rinse out his coffee mug. As he stood by the sink, he said, “It’s time to get back to work. Do ya mind givin’ me a lift home, Anna?”

  Surprised, she nodded, hoping the worry didn’t show on her face. “Okay,” she said, ready to get going, too.

  “Emmie can nap while you’re workin’,” Barbara offered.

  Anna thanked her and Aden for the delicious meal.

  “You must come again,” Barbara said as she followed her and Gabe out through the screened-in porch.

  “Denki. It was a real nice time,” Anna told Barbara when Gabe opened the door for her, and they stepped out.

  In the car, Anna started the ignition and drove down the driveway to the road.

  “The meal lasted longer than I anticipated,” Gabe remarked as if to apologize. “They’re such fine folk . . . have been helpin’ me with Emmie from day one since my wife died.”

  “They’re certainly a comfort to your daughter.” She didn’t say that Emmie surely saw a lot of her mother in her aunt Barbara.

  “Jah, a comfort for both of us,” Gabe agreed, then casually pointed out one of his tree houses they passed on the way back to his house.

  “I understand you built the tree house at Glen Flaud’s farm, where I’m staying,” Anna said, making small talk.

  “For Luke’s Kinner, jah, and what a gut family.” Gabe looked over at her. “So, how’re ya related to Glen and Sadie?”

  “Sadie’s my Mamm’s distant cousin.”

  Gabe was still, as if thinking about that. Then he said, “So evidently someone in your family jumped the fence—or, as we might say, left the Amish.”

  “My parents haven’t told me a whole lot about that,” she said, not wanting to delve into this with him.

  “Ach, didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Es allrecht,” she said in Deitsch by mistake. “I mean—”

  “Nee, it’s gut ya forget and talk Amish sometimes.” He was smiling. “Emschtlich.”

  “You say seriously, but I’ve been speaking Pennsylvania Dutch more lately since moving in with Mamm’s cousins.”

  “You fit in with them, ain’t so?” he said more softly.

  As she made the turn into his lane, she wondered why he’d mentioned this. “I’m still getting accustomed to their Old Ways.”

  He nodded. “I s’pose it is quite different from your upbringing.”

  “In some respects, very much so,” she was quick to say.

  “Well, I appreciate the ride, Anna.” He gave her a big smile. “I’ll see ya next Friday mornin’.” He got out of the car, made his way toward the house, then turned and waved.

  She backed the car out toward the road. During the drive, her thoughts sifted through the past months—first meeting Gabe that June afternoon, his seeming eagerness to have her observe the work at Peaceful Meadows, then her being assigned to his cousin Dottie to learn to become a volunteer and Emmie’s side walker. And now, dinner today with Aden and Barbara Mast. More family.

  Why hadn’t she seen the signs? Gabe was almost certainly interested in her; she was ever so sure now.

  Suddenly, the memory of Mamm’s warning resounded in her mind.

  Having supper at Katie’s Kitchen with Mart got Anna’s mind off her conversation with Gabe, though she told Mart in passing about helping with Emmie on Fridays. “She’s making a real connection with me. Her father thought it would be beneficial for me to spend more time with her, and it seems to be paying off.”

  “I’m sure you’re a blessing to the little girl,” Mart said with a quick smile.

  “That’s my hope and prayer.”

  After the meal, he suggested a drive down to the Susquehanna River for a walk, and she was happy to agree.

  There, he talked politics for a while, and some about the book he was reading on how to build a deck. She enjoyed listening for a time, but if the truth were known, she had hoped he might begin to talk about more personal things at some point. Will he ever?

  Later, on the drive back to Strasburg, she realized the two of them really weren’t moving forward at all. We’re still stuck at friendship. . . .

  Saturday afternoon, Anna received a call from Wanita with news that Mammi Eliza had fallen out of bed and shattered her right wrist. “She’s suffering terribly . . . please pray.”

  Anna’s heart broke for dearest Mammi. It had been a little over two months since Anna’s last visit home, and she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. “I’ll come as soon as I pack a change of clothes.”

  “Well, I don’t expect you to, Anna, but I know it’ll make all the difference to Mammi.”

  Her eyes misted with emotion. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Schweschder.”

  After Anna hung up, she told Sadie about Mammi Eliza’s fall, then went to her room to pack her overnight case. “I’ll return tomorrow evening,” she told Sadie, her right wrist aching with sympathy pains.

  Sadie’s face registered her concern. “Glen and I will keep her in prayer . . . and you, too, for traveling mercies.”

  Two handmade quilts were spread over Mammi Eliza when Anna tiptoed into her bedroom later that afternoon. She must be chilled from the shock, Anna thoug
ht, aware also of the light scent of lavender. She wondered if Wanita had dabbed some essential oil on Mammi’s temples to make her feel a little better. Did she tell her I was coming?

  Seeing how very pale Mammi looked, there with her right wrist immobilized by a splint, Anna held her breath as she sat down in the upholstered chair near the bed. Dear Lord, please help my poor, suffering Mammi, she prayed silently, her hands folded in her lap. She needs Thy touch, Father. Draw out the pain and heal her wrist by Thy power. I’m so grateful for Thy loving care over Mammi Eliza all these many years. In the name of Thy son, Jesus Christ, I pray. Amen.

  A few minutes later, Wanita stepped inside, frowning and tilting her head toward Anna as if to ask how Mammi was doing. She looked nice in her violet cape dress and the matching half apron that accentuated her deep blue eyes. Her dark blond hair looked as tidy as always in its bun, and her crisp white Kapp was perfectly in place.

  “Mammi hasn’t moved since I slipped in,” Anna said. “I didn’t want to bother you coming in, in case you were with the children.”

  “I was upstairs with Rogene, who’s teething again.”

  “Poor baby girl.” Anna couldn’t help noticing the dark circles under Wanita’s eyes.

  “Mamm always used peeled gingerroot and rubbed it on our gums,” Wanita said. “But I’m all out of ginger, so I put a washcloth in the freezer, hoping that might help.” She paused and sighed. “I didn’t want to tell ya this, but Mammi Eliza hasn’t known any of us in the past few days.”

  “Then she won’t know me, either,” Anna said, stiffening at the truth of this as she looked at her precious grandmother.

  “Glad you came, Anna. I’ll leave you two alone now.” Wanita wiggled her fingers and left the room.

  Anna nodded and reached over to touch Mammi’s left hand. It was cool to the touch, the veins particularly visible. Anna began to pray again, wanting to be a comfort, just as Mammi had been to her when she was a little girl. Once, she’d fallen headlong off the rope swing, hitting her forehead, where a very sore goose egg emerged. Mammi had known just what to say so that Anna wouldn’t be alarmed, young as she was, and she took her hand and led her inside to sit on the wooden bench while she went to the refrigerator. “Jesus loves the little ones like you . . . you . . . you,” she had sung as she gently tended to the protruding bump with an ice pack.

  Fondly remembering that moment years ago, Anna began to hum the song, and when she finished, Mammi’s eyes opened slightly, and a sweet smile swept over her face. “Anna . . . you’re here.”

  “Mammi,” she managed to say, overcome with emotion. “I’ve been sitting here and praying . . . remembering that big bump on my forehead when I stayed with you and Dawdi John one weekend.”

  Her eyes found Anna’s again. “You hit your noggin, jah.”

  “I was dopplich . . . fell off the swing.”

  Mammi nodded her head but didn’t speak again. Her gaze held Anna’s for a long time before she sighed and dozed off again.

  It didn’t matter, though, because Anna cherished those few moments of recognition and decided to keep them to herself. There was no need to tell Wanita or Mamm, neither one.

  Chapter 40

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 21, 1948

  Eliza had spent time thinking about and writing Eb’s birthday note. At one point, she’d actually come close to admitting her affection for him, but then she came to her senses and discarded that note and started over. By the morning of Eb’s birthday, she had come up short, with nothing to show for her efforts.

  The only minutes she could take to write a new attempt were in between canning and cleaning and being a companion for finicky Great-aunt Joanna. These days, Eliza had very little time for herself until after nightfall, when her aunt’s heavy eyelids drooped tightly shut.

  Her aunt must have become suspicious about her behavior, however, because several days ago now, she had asked Eliza right out why she was sneaking out of the house after supper. The way her aunt had phrased this made it sound suspicious, and Eliza had felt uncomfortable. I’m not good at hiding my guilt, she thought.

  The confrontation had ferhoodled her enough that she was having trouble fulfilling Eb’s birthday request. And, too, she wondered who had told her aunt about her leaving the house. Could it have been that neighbor cousin, Nellie Petersheim?

  While her aunt rested that afternoon, Eliza opted to make a simple birthday card, instead of trying to create the perfect note. As she made the swirls and curlicues, she wished she’d thought of this sooner, because it was much easier than writing her thoughts in a note for him.

  Finally, Eliza neatly printed, May this be the best birthday ever, with our heavenly Father’s blessing. Your friend, Eliza Hertzler.

  It was a simple yet honest note. Now the only thing left to do was get it to the stone wall and place it in the appointed spot while Great-aunt Joanna still napped. So, as quietly as she had done before, Eliza hurried outdoors and over to the wall. There, she stood in front of the tall oak and walked straight ahead until she spotted the large discolored rock and pushed on it.

  To her surprise, she found another note from Eb already there! Eliza removed it and put her little homemade card in its place, then returned the rock and dashed back to her aunt’s farmhouse.

  Like Eb’s first note, this one was folded up. She wished again that she’d kept that first sweet message where he had stuck his neck out about his feelings, risking rejection.

  Back at the house, Eliza went straight to her aunt’s room and looked in, her heart pounding from running all the way back. Relieved that Joanna was asleep and seemed not to have missed her one iota, Eliza counted her blessings.

  Then she made her way to her own room, closed the door, and began to read Eb’s latest note.

  My dear friend Eliza,

  I’m smiling as I write this, because it’s strange to call you “friend” when I catch myself thinking otherwise at times. Now don’t go running scared, because I understand the way things must be. And although that’s unfortunate, we have at least two more months for our friendship to continue. So let’s enjoy the time we have, jah?

  I’ll anticipate your birthday note on July twenty-first.

  Your friend,

  Eb Lapp

  Eliza leaned back on the bed, falling into the pillows and staring up at the ceiling, wishing she could go over to his house, just up the road, and join in the birthday celebration. Oh, how she longed to see him again! “Yet what I feel for him can never be,” she whispered.

  SATURDAY, JULY 24, 1948

  That Saturday at market, Eliza happened upon Eb by sheer coincidence. Just seeing him made her heart leap up as he caught her eye and smiled. Then, just as quickly, he turned back to unload more produce for the man who was presumably his father or uncle.

  She returned her attention to her aunt’s shopping list, delighted to have seen Eb again, even from afar. Then, heading to the fudge market stand, she wondered if purchasing some for Great-aunt Joanna might sweeten her up a bit. Wouldn’t that be something?

  Eliza chided herself. Maybe Aunt Joanna can’t help being crochety. Eliza’s mother had written something to this effect in her recent letter. Growing old takes courage, Mamma had penned, as though encouraging Eliza to continue to show kindness.

  It’s easy to be kind and caring when a person appreciates it, Eliza thought, choosing a box of fudge and paying for it with part of the monthly allowance her father sent her. It’s the sour attitude that’s hard to bear, she decided.

  She was glad for the grocery cart, which was filling up so quickly she knew she’d have to call a taxicab to get back to Great-aunt Joanna’s. She made her way outdoors to the pay phone around the side of the building where the farm market was held and placed her emergency coins in the slots.

  The phone began to ring just as she heard a knock on the glass door of the phone booth. Turning, she saw Eb silently waving his hands to get her attention.

  She hung up the phone and cracked open
the folding door. “What’re ya doin’?”

  “I’ve got my Dat’s buggy if ya need a ride,” he said quietly.

  “Won’t we be seen?”

  “Not if ya sit in the back seat and I close both doors.”

  “It’ll be hot in there, won’t it?”

  He frowned. “Do ya want a lift or not?”

  She nodded, suppressing her laugh.

  “Go behind this building to the third buggy parked on the right, and get in,” he told her. “I’ll meet ya there in five minutes.”

  “Denki,” she said, dumbfounded that he was willing to take this risk.

  Eliza felt like a fugitive all slumped down in the second bench seat, directly behind Eb in the driver’s seat. But that didn’t keep the two of them from talking a blue streak. Eb said he’d found her birthday card and thanked her, saying it was the “topping on his cake,” and she admitted that she’d wanted it to be special.

  “I was thinking of writing another letter to you and putting it in the stone wall, but I didn’t know if you’d look there for one from me again,” he said. “So, I got this idea . . . what if we just leave letters for each other there every Tuesday? What do ya think of that?”

  She loved the idea but tried to be measured in her response. “If you want to.”

  He let out a chortle. “I think you want to, too, Eliza. If not, speak up now.”

  There was that sassy side of him again, and she snickered and covered her mouth.

  “I can hear ya back there.” He sounded comically stern.

  She laughed all the harder.

  “So, look for a letter next Tuesday, late afternoon,” he said.

  “While my aunt’s napping. It’s the only time I can leave the house, ’cept at night.”

  “What if ya just told her you were goin’ out with a friend?” he suggested.

  “Then she’d want to meet that friend—and approve of that friend, too. She’s awful strict, just like Dat and Mamma would want her to be.”