The Stone Wall

by Beverly Lewis

  “I’ll see you at the information center Monday,” he said, pausing. “Unless, would you like to attend church with me?”

  She smiled. “Or you could come to my church.”

  “True, but I thought maybe you’d like to hear our bishop preach, since you didn’t get to at the hymn sing.” The way Mart said it made her think it was very important to him. “Just know you’re always welcome, Anna.”

  “Thank you, Mart. That’s kind of you.”

  “’Night.”

  She stepped into the house, feeling rather torn. Does this mean he’s actually getting serious?

  Going through the kitchen and down the hall to her room, she knelt beside her bed and prayed. “O Lord, Mart is such a fine young man—everything I would want in a beau and a husband. Please grant me wisdom.”

  Later, as she sat in bed in the dark, ready to fall sleep, Anna thought of her bishop’s sermon last Sunday back in Mifflinburg, about the Holy Spirit praying for believers through wordless groans.

  Right now, Anna felt like she was groaning within her spirit. Never having had this dilemma before—two fine young men seeking her attention—she struggled with how she’d gotten to this point.

  Then she caught herself. Gabe isn’t an option, she reminded herself with a sigh. Much as I like him.

  “God is tenderhearted to our groans,” Bishop Wengerd had assured the congregation. “The Lord can be trusted in our weakness and confusion.” She felt grateful for having heard that sermon, even though she had missed going to her church here in Lancaster County and seeing her friends there.

  Was I supposed to hear that sermon last week? She slipped down into bed, knowing that God had a unique way of putting people in the right place at just the right time. And He had given her the ability to make a choice about whom to spend her life with, as well.

  When Anna dreamed, it was of Mart, urgently asking her to attend his church. She ended up going reluctantly in the dream, but the pastor didn’t speak either English or German, nor Pennsylvania Dutch. For the life of her, she could not understand him. She turned to Mart next to her, in a church where couples could sit together, and she couldn’t understand him, either, so she dashed out of the building in a panic.

  Feeling all wrung out when she awakened, Anna felt stiff—nearly frozen—taking deep breaths. What an awful dream!

  She reached for the flashlight in her room and carried it out to the kitchen. Setting it on the counter, she went to the gas-powered refrigerator and removed a gallon jar of cow’s milk fresh from the neighboring farm. She poured a small amount in a cup and went to sit at the table in the spot where she always sat next to Sadie at meals.

  I have to get my mind off this, she decided, needing to return to sleep. She had a busy day tomorrow, redding up her room, doing some mending, and making the noon meal for Glen, too, while Sadie was gone to market. And then there was the outing with Gabe tomorrow afternoon.

  Anna sipped the cold milk and wished she knew what Mart was thinking, because if she had to be a member of his church for them to seriously date, she had better think carefully about his invitation.

  If it’s God’s will, she thought, determined to know for sure.

  ———

  Sadie sat up in bed at the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. Anna must be restless, she thought, getting up to pull on her robe.

  She wandered out to the kitchen, where she could see a stream of light coming from the table. Spotting the flashlight, she said quietly, “’Tis all right to turn on the lamp, Anna.”

  “I was trying to be quiet,” Anna replied from her place at the table. She looked like she was carrying a weight on her shoulders.

  “Well, if neither of us can sleep, we may as well keep each other company.” Sadie reached for the switch for the battery-powered lamp overhead. “There now, that’s better,” she said, squinting over at Anna. “You feelin’ all right?”

  Anna’s slender shoulders rose, then lowered. “Ach, I hardly know what to think.”

  Sadie sat down in Glen’s chair at the head of the table, hoping Anna might share what was on her mind. “I’ve felt like that sometimes, too,” she said.

  Slowly, Anna began to open up and talk about “her predicament,” as she put it, the words coming quickly now, as though she’d been holding this in for too long. Her Mennonite friend Mart had invited her to attend church with him this Sunday, and, of all things, Gabe had asked to take her to the Harvest Days Festival tomorrow afternoon. “Supposedly that’s just as friends, but I suspect that’s only because I suggested it should be that way.” She shook her head. “Even so, Mart’s the fella I should be interested in,” Anna admitted. “I’ve known him longer, for one thing, and . . . his upbringing is more similar to mine.” She traced a finger around the rim of her empty glass. “Honestly, though, I feel something very different when I’m with Gabe, which seems odd to me.”

  Sadie studied her and wondered if she ought to say what she was thinking. She took her time, though, not jumping into the conversation till Anna stared down at the table, like she was beside herself. “Is it odd, really?” Sadie ventured. “I mean, havin’ an attraction to a wunnerbaar young man like Gabe?”

  “Truth is, I never expected it.” Anna sat up straighter now.

  “Well, when ya invite God to plant His desires in you, ya must be willing to take one step at a time, as He leads,” Sadie said quietly. “Remember, the heart chooses who it loves.”

  Anna seemed to ponder that. “Surely I’m not supposed to be with an Amish fella, though. A widower . . . with a troubled child who might not be easy to raise.” Anna covered her mouth, catching herself. “Oh, it’s just so complicated!”

  Sadie knew she must be gentle with her reply. “Are you afraid of lovin’ again, Anna?”

  Frowning at first, Anna nodded slowly. “The way things ended with my first beau, I feel like I need to guard my heart . . . be careful who I let in,” she confessed. “I don’t ever want to hurt like that again.”

  “You’re wise.” Sadie reached to touch her hand. “And I believe you can trust your heavenly Father to make the way clear to you.”

  They talked awhile longer; then Anna asked if Sadie would remember her in prayer. “More than anything, I want God’s choice of a mate.” She paused. “And I want my family to be pleased, too. I’d never want to hurt them.”

  Sadie agreed to pray. “Can ya wait for the Lord to make this known to you?”

  “I intend to do that, jah.” Anna thanked her for taking time to listen and to give good advice, especially in the middle of the night. “You’re really a dear,” she whispered.

  “Well, I care ’bout ya, Anna.” Sadie smiled. “We’ll talk again.”

  Chapter 43

  The passenger van arrived around one-thirty, and Gabe walked right up the cobblestone path to the porch, where Anna was sitting. He looked like any Amishman headed for Preaching service, dressed all in black other than his white long-sleeved shirt. His fair beard was neatly trimmed, and he wore a black felt hat since the days were cooler now.

  Fortunately, Luke, Marianna, and the children had gone somewhere earlier, and Glen was in the front room reading. At least for now Anna could rest easy about not being seen with Gabe. She smiled when he greeted her, and she happily went with him to the van, where he offered his hand to help her in. Strangely giddy, she sat at the window on the third bench and Gabe slid in next to her.

  The van was nearly full with other Amish folk, all of them going to the Harvest Days Festival at Landis Valley Farm, she learned as they rode. Gabe also introduced her to several of them, mostly neighbors or church members, all in a friendly, merry mood.

  He must not care what they think . . . that I’m not really one of them.

  When there was a lull, Anna asked how Emmie was doing, and Gabe said she was carrying her dolly around everywhere, the doll dressed in Anna’s handiwork. He added that she’d also taken the doll with her to Aendi Barbara’s before he left to come for Anna.
“I didn’t tell Emmie that I would be seein’ you.”

  Anna didn’t have to wonder why not—he was clearly interested in getting to know her better. She tried to smile but felt she’d made a mistake in coming. What am I doing with Gabe? she thought, watching as the cornfields seemed to fly by.

  Yet she hadn’t been able to tear herself away from his company, so she was at once miserable and happy.

  What’s my heart telling me?

  There were countless people at the Harvest Days Festival, tourists and locals alike. Anna was impressed by the colorful autumn decorations everywhere—large wicker baskets of ornamental corn, tiered shocks of cornstalks, pumpkins to decorate for the children—and live music, craft demonstrations, horse-drawn hayrides, and apple butter and cider making, too.

  She and Gabe stopped to observe a sheep-shearing exhibit, then watched as previously washed and carded wool was spun into yarn on a spinning wheel, and next, turned into the beginnings of a shawl. Anna told Gabe that her Mammi Eliza had been bequeathed a similar spinning wheel from her grandmother, “my great-great-grandmother,” she said.

  “Is it still in the family?” Gabe asked, the look on his face showing keen interest.

  “It’s stored in my sister’s attic.”

  “None of your womenfolk use it?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Maybe you could learn . . . since you seem interested.” He motioned toward the spinning wheel.

  “Maybe I will.” She laughed, following him to an indoor exhibit that focused on eighteenth-century life in Lancaster County.

  They watched an Amish blacksmith at work, and Anna realized this was really nothing new for Gabe, presuming that he visited the smithy quite often, given he owned at least one road horse.

  “I helped our Amish smithy one summer when I was a teenager out in Indiana, where I grew up,” Gabe told her as they watched. “My parents still live in Elkhart County.”

  “Do your siblings live there, as well?” She hoped she wasn’t being too nosy.

  “All six brothers and their families, jah.” Gabe glanced at her. “Ya prob’ly wonder how I ended up here in Strasburg even though my Mamm married an Indiana Amishman.”

  She nodded, hoping he might share that.

  Gabe told her that his mother was originally from Strasburg but met his father at an Amish youth convention in Indiana. Then Gabe explained that he had been invited here to help Emily’s father on their farm before he’d ever met her. “I answered a request in The Budget, actually. And”—he paused for a moment—“after I met Emily, I knew that God had brought me here.”

  She felt sad for him, realizing the love they must have had together.

  “Are ya cryin’, Anna?” He stopped to look at her, stepping near, like he wanted to comfort her.

  “They’re happy tears,” she said. “For you and Emily . . . and for Emmie. For the years that you did have together.”

  Gabe tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful. “Does it bother ya to hear ’bout this?”

  “Emily was your bride and Emmie’s Mamma, so not at all,” Anna said, glad he felt comfortable talking about his wife.

  They meandered quietly and companionably for a while, looking at various displays of items for sale, including wooden toys, and then he eventually mentioned how his interest in building tree houses came about. “It struck me that so many Amishmen were building gazebos and toolsheds that the market for those was already swamped, so I carved out my own niche.” He smiled at her. “It’s been a gut livin’ . . . the Lord is blessing me beyond what I deserve.”

  Later, they walked past the children’s discovery tent, and Anna thought of Emmie. There was no denying that she cared deeply for her, yet it was Gabe who was seeking Anna out. It was also Gabe who made her laugh and forget how complicated her romantic life was right now.

  Around five o’clock, they stood in line for bratwursts at one of the food stands and then walked around eating them. Gabe’s was loaded up with chili, cheese, and relish—so much so that he ended up needing the extra paper napkins Anna had gotten. “You’re about to lose the best part,” she teased.

  “That’s just what Emily would say.” He frowned suddenly, looking aghast. “Oh,” he groaned. “I’m mighty sorry, I—”

  “No, it’s all right, really,” Anna assured him.

  Gabe was silent for a while, and Anna wished she could say something to prove that it really was all right. She was actually surprised he hadn’t let his deceased wife’s name slip before now.

  When Gabe did talk again, he asked, “Have ya been baptized into the Beachy Amish church back home?”

  Such a probing question, she thought.

  “Well, not just yet,” she said, “but it shouldn’t be much longer.”

  He glanced at her. “Is your heart set on it?”

  “I’ve been in prayer about it for quite some time.”

  Nodding, he said, “Baptism is a holy sacrament, as you know. It’s an important step for anyone who’s opened their heart to Christ.”

  Anna agreed, and after they bought root-beer floats and headed over to the hayride, she told him that it was her dear Mammi Eliza who’d led her at the age of nine to accept Jesus as her Savior. “Now it’s just a matter of being baptized . . . when the time is right.”

  Gabe listened intently, and as the sun lowered in the sky and they sat together in the big hay wagon, Anna considered all they had shared in the space of a few hours.

  The evening was filled with autumn smells—woodsmoke, caramel popcorn, and newly tilled soil—as the wagon slowly rumbled along over the vacant field. And there they sat, contented with each other, talking about their respective backgrounds.

  Toward the end of the long wagon ride, night had fallen and some couples were snuggling a bit, which made Anna very aware of how close she was sitting next to Gabe due to the press of the crowd. So close, she caught the spicy scent of his cologne and could almost feel his heart beating.

  On the van ride back to Strasburg, Gabe was silent, and Anna mentally relived their time together today, including the hints he’d dropped, especially having asked if she had joined church back home. That’s very telling for any Plain girl. She realized she was either on dangerous ground by continuing to help with Emmie and spend time with Gabe, or on the brink of an unforeseen path.

  But these stirrings of affection could cloud her thinking, and she didn’t want to miss God’s will, not when Martin Nolt made better sense. Besides, she had never considered becoming Old Order Amish!

  Gabe got out of the van and helped her down, holding her hand a little longer than necessary. “I hope you had a wunnerbaar-gut time, Anna,” he said, walking her toward the house.

  “I did,” she admitted. “Hope you did, too.”

  “It was one of my best days,” he said quietly, “in a very long time.”

  Since the passenger van was parked and waiting with passengers, she thanked him for suggesting the festival and reached for the screen door.

  “Next time it’s my treat,” he said, grinning before he turned to go.

  How can there be a next time? she thought, hurrying into the house.

  Sadie couldn’t help but notice Anna’s unusual quiet as she came inside, and later, too, while they sat in the kitchen together. “Ain’t my business, but if you’d like to talk ’bout anything, I’m here,” she said.

  Anna nodded. “I think I do need some advice.” She paused and drew in an audible breath. “I felt something for Gabe today that I haven’t felt for Mart,” she said. “Actually, both Gabe and I felt it—I’m sure of it.”

  This confirmed what Sadie had been wondering, although Anna had shared with her before about Gabe’s interest.

  “It’s just that I feel so at home with Gabe,” Anna continued.

  “Des gut, jah?”

  Anna fell silent for a moment. Then she said softly, “Can you tell me more about your beliefs, and your house-church meetings?”

  Sadie smiled. �
�Well now, I’d be right happy to. . . .”

  Chapter 44

  SUNDAY, JULY 25, 1948

  For as long as I can remember, our church youth have courted and married within our Amish district here,” Great-aunt Joanna was telling Eliza at breakfast before she was to leave for the meetinghouse down the road.

  “Same as my church back home,” Eliza replied, spreading apple butter on her toast and glancing across the table at her aunt, wondering what she was getting at.

  “Well, I’d be lax if I didn’t tell ya that someone saw you talkin’ with an Old Order fella at market yesterday.”

  Eliza’s breathing stopped. She and Eb had been seen.

  “This was a trusted cousin, so there’s no doubt” came the sharp remark.

  Should I fess up? Eliza wondered, trying not to fidget as she took a bite of her toast.

  “Is the young man sweet on ya?”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “Ah, so you were acquainted with him before yesterday.” It was a statement, but it sounded like a question.

  “I met him when I first came here,” Eliza admitted.

  “Well, I hope you don’t get any notions ’bout him. Your parents have laid down strict orders ’bout no Old Order fellas.”

  “Jah, but we’re only friends,” Eliza repeated, hoping her aunt would drop it. Why’d Mamma send me here? she wondered for the hundredth time. “Would ya like more Postum?” she asked, rising to get some for herself, needing to walk a bit, if only across the kitchen floor.

  “I’ll have a little more. Denki.”

  Eliza went over with the teakettle and poured more hot water in her aunt’s cup, then went to get the jar of Postum.

  “I want to believe ya,” her aunt said, pursing her lips as she blew gently on her steaming mug.

  Well then, please do, Eliza thought. “I’m not lookin’ to marry an Old Order boy,” she said at last, and meant it.

  Three weeks passed, and Eb’s letters showed up in the stone wall like clockwork on Tuesday afternoons. Eliza wrote to him, too, each time making excuses to her aunt that she wanted to go for a walk or offering to run an errand, always ending up at the wall.