“How long have you known him?” Rebecca demanded.
“Have you been writing letters?” Rosemary said. She gasped. “Don’t tell me you two have been talking on the phone. That’s against the Ordnung, you know.”
“What are his intentions?” Rachel said, crossing her arms.
“One question at a time.” Lora Beth looked at the pancakes, then pushed them away. Glad they didn’t already have the syrup on them, since she’d have to heat them up later. “First, let me remind all three of you that you didn’t mention Ivan to me.”
All three women shrank back a bit. “We said we were sorry about that,” Rosemary said.
“I know. And I forgive you. I’m also sorry I never told you about Ben, but there wasn’t much to tell.”
“That’s not what I saw last night. You two couldn’t keep yer eyes off each other.” Rebecca smirked. “Even when Ben was talking with Ivan, he was still casting glances at you.”
“Which is romantic, when you think about it.” Rachel sighed.
“There’s nix romantic between us.” But that wasn’t true, and she knew it. From the doubtful look all her daughters were giving her, they didn’t believe it either.
Rosemary scoffed. “Mamm, he wouldn’t have come all the way from Charm to rescue you from a date with a man if he didn’t have romantic intentions.”
“So last night was a date? I thought I was just supposed to get to know Ivan.”
“Rebecca might have implied to Ivan that it was something more,” Rosemary said, grimacing at her sister.
“Great, put the blame on me. He’s yer relative, remember?”
“Maed, that’s enough.” Lora Beth put her fingertips to her forehead. She was tired, having tossed and turned the night before, and when she had slept, she’d dreamed about Ben. One minute, he was there, holding her hand. The next minute, he had disappeared, and she couldn’t find him. Then she woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. “If you ever decide to match me up with anyone again, please give me advance notice.”
“I don’t think we have to anymore.” Rebecca smiled.
“Are you moving to Charm? Or is he moving here?” Rosemary asked.
Rebecca’s smile dimmed. “I didn’t think about that.” She turned to her sisters. “Obviously, he’ll move here.”
“Or maybe Mamm wants to move to Charm,” Rachel said.
“I’m not moving anywhere.” Lora Beth sighed. “Look, Ben and I are . . . We’re gut friends.” That was the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but she didn’t want to go there with her daughters. “At the wedding in Charm, he asked me for the recipe for my éclair cake, and I sent it to him. Now we write to each other occasionally.” More like every few days, but she didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire the girls were already stoking. “As two people who’ve lost their spouses and like to cook and bake, we have something in common. That’s all there is to it.”
All three girls pinned their gaze on her. “Right. Just friends,” they said in unison.
Lora Beth hesitated. How could she lie to her children? “Maybe a little more,” she squeaked.
“I knew it,” Rebecca said, her face beaming.
“But we have a lot to think and pray about when it comes to a relationship. At our age, it isn’t easy to just start over.” Her chest squeezed. “We can’t just think about ourselves. We both have kinner and grosskinner. He has a job. I have mei life here. Yung people can be impulsive. We can’t.”
Her daughters, for once, were silent.
“Mamm,” Rebecca finally said, “don’t let us keep you from Ben. Charm isn’t that far, and there would be plenty of visits.”
“We haven’t had one date yet,” Lora Beth said. “That’s jumping ahead a bit, don’t you think?”
“You know we want you to be happy.” Rosemary had tears in her eyes. “That’s all we ever wanted.”
Rachel nodded. “If Ben makes you happy, then you can’t let that slip away. Daed wouldn’t want you to.”
Tears trailed down Lora Beth’s face. “Danki,” she said. “It’s gut to know that I have yer blessing if the time comes.”
“Or when the time comes.” Rebecca grinned.
“Don’t pressure her,” Rosemary said.
“I’m not pressuring her.”
As the sisters bickered, Lora Beth smiled. She was happy to have such wonderful kinner who gave their support so willingly. But that didn’t make her decision any easier.
A short while later, her daughters left, with Rachel leaving last. She hugged Lora Beth. “Remember what you said to me before mei wedding?”
She shook her head. “What was that?”
“You said time moves fast and to cherish every moment with Uriah. Which I do.”
“I had forgotten all about that.”
Rachel smiled. “If Ben is yer second chance, you shouldn’t waste a minute, ya? That’s what you would tell me and mei schwesters.”
Lora Beth didn’t answer, but after Rachel left, she thought about her daughter’s words and about all her daughters’ support. Perhaps that was God’s way of telling her she was free to move on.
She spent some time in prayer at the kitchen table, then got out her stationery.
* * *
By the end of Tuesday, Ben and Menno had managed to sift through a third of Menno’s barn. Fannie was excited about the idea of giving things away, and she’d pitched in. She’d also gathered some items to take to a friend of hers. Before she left, she pulled Ben aside. “Danki for being a gut friend and helping Menno with this.”
“Nee need to thank me,” Ben said.
Fannie pushed up her glasses, tears in her eyes. “But I do. I don’t think anyone else would have the patience to help him work through this. I know I ran out of patience long ago. He’s always been creative, picking up things here and there and coming up with ideas for how to use them. But when Brian passed away five years ago, things began to get out of hand.”
Ben nodded. Menno and Fannie’s grandson had died in a drowning accident. It had been tragic for everyone in the community. Menno had held his feelings close to his chest, but now with Fannie’s explanation, Ben thought he understood why the man had struggled so much with spending and hoarding.
“He even said last night that he was going to have everything cleared out by the end of the summer.” Fannie smiled. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear those words. It seems the key was to focus his attention on something else—giving instead of hoarding.”
As Ben walked home from Menno’s house, he felt satisfied that he’d been able to help his friend who was struggling more than he imagined. But that satisfaction hadn’t fully replaced his thoughts about Lora Beth. Working through Menno’s stash had been a distraction, but now that he was alone, she came instantly to mind. He missed her. He couldn’t deny that. And he had prayed for wisdom over the past few days. More than once he’d started a letter to her but couldn’t finish it. Now his fear wasn’t of starting the relationship—it was of being rejected. What if she decided it couldn’t work out between them?
He grimaced as he stopped by the mailbox. This was one reason he’d steered clear of getting involved with a woman again. He couldn’t go through the heartache a romantic relationship could cause. He’d suffered enough when Elsie died.
He opened the mailbox and pulled out its contents. On top of his gas bill was a letter from Lora Beth. His heart began to pound, and he tucked the bill under his arm and opened the letter.
Dear Ben,
I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve been thinking and praying a lot about our situation.
Ben’s heart fell, and he stopped reading. She sounded so formal, so distant. He folded the paper and went into the house, where he set the letter on the table, then sat down and stared at it. He could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears. He knew what she was going to say. After a long time sitting in silence, he picked up the letter with dread.
I know things are complicated, not just between u
s but also in our individual lives. But I believe God brought us together for a reason, and it wasn’t just because you liked my éclair cake. I’d like to keep writing to each other and see where things go.
I miss you, Ben. I miss your letters, and I miss seeing you.
Warmly,
Lora Beth
Ben stood and let out a whoop, then looked around and felt foolish because he was alone. He reread her letter, unable to stop smiling. She hadn’t cut him loose after all. She was open to what the future might hold for them, and so was he.
He scrambled to get pen and paper, and then he started to write.
Epilogue
One year later
Lora Beth and Ben entered their home for the first time as a married couple, holding hands. Their wedding had been a week ago, and they’d spent the time since visiting family in both Ashtabula and Charm. But their new house wasn’t in either town. They’d decided to move to Middlefield, which put them between Lora Beth’s family and Ben’s.
The furnishings were a combination of belongings from their old houses, which were both waiting to be sold. The new house was small, but with three bedrooms, they had enough space for their children and grandchildren to visit. And they were both excited to make new friends in a new community while staying in touch with their former communities. Ben led Lora Beth to the couch, and they sat down.
“I’ll get the suitcases in a minute,” Ben said. He ran his thumb over the back of Lora Beth’s hand and leaned his head against the couch back. “It’s been a long week.”
“That it has, but a gut one.” She shivered at her husband’s touch. They had taken their courtship slow, so both they and their children could adjust to such a big change. Lora Beth had spent time in Charm, and she especially enjoyed getting to know Menno and Fannie, and, of course, Paul’s family. And her daughters had welcomed Ben with open arms, especially when he didn’t hesitate to play with Katrina and Rosetta on the floor.
But after all the visiting and family time, it was nice to be alone. She sighed and closed her eyes.
“Happy?” Ben said.
“Very.” She turned to him and smiled. “I never thought I would be this happy again.”
“Me either.” He turned toward her and cupped her chin in his hand. “I didn’t believe in second chances, Lora Beth. Until I met you.” He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly. “I love you.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, eager to start their new life together. “I love you too.”
Chapter 1
Millersburg, Ohio
Elva Gingerich set her blueberry pie on the table and glanced around the area, feeling her nerves on edge and perspiring a little despite the cooler fall air. She wished her friend Regina hadn’t talked her into participating in this pie-baking competition, especially since she was only visiting this small community in Millersburg.
“It’s all in fun,” Regina had said yesterday as she pinched the crust around her rhubarb and strawberry pie. “It’s more about eating the pies than awarding a prize—a blue ribbon.”
“But you do determine a winner, ya?” Elva forced herself to stop wringing her hands to stir her blueberry filling.
“Ya. The ribbon gets passed from last year’s winner to this year’s winner. Then we slice all the pies and share them. Everyone has a great time.”
Right now, as she waited along with the other women who’d entered the contest—most she barely knew—she wasn’t enjoying herself like they were. They were eagerly waiting for the judges to approach the table while she fought to quash her anxiety.
Over the years, she and Regina, a childhood friend, had kept in touch through letters. But when Elva’s husband, Henry, passed away two years ago, Regina paid her a visit. Elva was now returning the favor, a decision she’d made on the spur of the moment, just happening to come when Regina’s community had their annual fall picnic. She’d enjoyed her visit with Regina and her husband, Nelson, so far. Except for today. She should have stood her ground and said she wasn’t going to enter the contest. But Elva wasn’t used to standing her ground, and it hadn’t taken much persuasion from Regina for her to capitulate.
“I’m sure yer pie will win,” Regina said, leaning over and whispering. “When you gave me a taste of that filling yesterday, I knew the rest of us didn’t have a chance.”
“But I don’t want to win.” I don’t even want to be here.
Regina looked at her, adjusting her glasses. Her gray hair peeked out from beneath her kapp. She might be sixty-five, but Regina had always been young at heart, and she looked much younger, with very few wrinkles on her smooth skin. “I knew you were going to say that.” She patted Elva’s hand. “Relax and enjoy this.” Then she paused. “Uh-oh.”
“What do you mean, uh-oh?”
“I thought he was in Kentucky visiting his relatives.” Regina frowned. “Hold on to yer kapp.”
“What are you talking about?” Now wasn’t a good time to feel bewildered.
A short man with a balding head, a little older-looking than Elva and Regina, approached. He smiled across his clean-shaven face, revealing teeth that were a little crooked. But his blue eyes held a pleasant twinkle. “Hello, Regina,” he said, eyeing her pie.
“I thought you were visiting familye, Jerald,” Regina said, her tone a little curt.
“Now, you know I wouldn’t miss judging the pie contest for anything. Planned mei visit short just to be here.” He licked his lips and looked at Elva’s blueberry pie. “Oh, that looks scrumptious.” He lifted his gaze, and when he met hers, surprise entered his eyes. “Who are you?”
“Elva’s a friend of mine.” Regina moved the blueberry pie back an inch. “She’s here visiting.”
“I see.” Jerald held out his hand. “Jerald Byler. Pleased to meet you.” He eyed her pie again. “Can’t wait to taste that delicious-looking dessert.”
“You’ll have to cool yer heels, because the judging hasn’t started yet.” Regina sighed and waved her hands at him. “Now shoo! You’ll get yer taste in a little bit.”
Jerald rolled his eyes, then looked at Elva again. “I don’t know how you put up with her bossiness,” he said in a loud whisper while pointing his thumb at Regina.
“I heard that, Jerald.”
Ignoring that remark, he took a place at the end of the table, where the rest of the judges were lining up.
“He can be such a pest sometimes,” Regina said. “Nelson has been friends with him since they were kinner. That’s the only reason I put up with him.”
Jerald was in the middle of the line, but he was hard to see because of his height. “He looks harmless to me.”
“He is, for the most part. But whenever food is concerned, he’s like a fly on honey. You’d think with him being single all his life he would have learned to cook, but he’s content to invite himself to our place for supper every Tuesday.” She shook her head. “All right, that’s not fair. He does have a standing invitation. But he always shows up early and hovers in the kitchen.”
Elva couldn’t help but chuckle. “Does he put in his two cents?”
“Ya, unfortunately.”
“Then nee wonder you think he’s a pest.” She poked her on the arm. “Nee one tells Regina Raber what to do.”
Regina laughed. “This is true. It’s a gut thing Nelson is so easygoing. Oh, they’ve started judging.” She looked at Elva. “Now the fun begins.”
Elva had experienced a short reprieve from her nerves thanks to Jerald, but now they ramped up again. This is not mei idea of fun.
* * *
Jerald rubbed his hands together as the contest got underway. They had fifteen contestants, more than any other year, and he couldn’t wait to dig in to so many pies. He’d left his niece and nephew’s house early yesterday morning just so he could be back for the contest he’d judged for the past twenty-five years, ever since their community had started the annual picnic. He’d never missed a pie contest, and he didn’t intend to.
&n
bsp; This year he was one of five judges, and he tapped his foot as he waited his turn for a bite of Carol Yoder’s cherry pie. Good, as usual, but nothing special. He tasted three more pies—banana cream, buttermilk, and pecan—and they were all satisfactory. But so far, he hadn’t been wowed by any of them.
The line moved quickly, and before he knew it, he stood in front of Regina. He gave her a blank look, which he knew would bother her. She was a pip to tease, and he enjoyed every minute of it. As he waited for Mose Plank to taste her pie, he looked at Elva again. The pinched expression on her face made her look like she’d rather be anywhere but here. He was sure Regina had convinced her to enter the contest. The woman usually got her way, although Nelson knew when to keep her in line. Or try to.
He felt a little sorry for Elva, but at least the contest never took very long. He had to admit she was rather pretty, especially for a woman her age. Her pale-green eyes were her most striking feature, along with the light-brown eyebrows arching above them. She had a trim figure, in contrast to Regina’s plump one. In fact, Elva was the prettiest woman near his age he’d seen in a long time.
“Here.” Regina’s sharp voice pulled him out of his thoughts. She thrust a small sliver of her rhubarb and strawberry pie, which was always excellent, at him.
“Passable,” he said, handing back the plate with one bite left—although he’d had to resist the urge to eat every crumb. He held in his laugh when she scowled. Regina Raber was nothing if not predictable.
Then he landed in front of Elva. “Enjoy,” she said in a quiet voice, handing him a piece.
He examined it for a quick second. Flaky crust, packed with filling, the plump berries covered in a thick, sweet, dark-purple sauce. He took a bite. “Oh mei,” he said as the fresh flavor filled his mouth. He quickly took another bite.
“Gut, ya?” Mose said, pointing to Elva’s pie. “Best one I’ve tasted so far.”
“Agreed.” Jerald scraped the filling and crust crumbs off the plate and then set it on the table. “Well done, Elva.”
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