“Well then?”
Eliza wished she could hide from her aunt’s piercing eyes. What a pickle I’m in!
“Maybe your mind’s on that there diary you’re always scribblin’ in,” her aunt said.
She knows about it? Fear struck Eliza’s heart. O dear Lord God and heavenly Father, no!
“Eliza? I’m waiting.”
Whatever her aunt asked, Eliza would never, ever share anything about Eb and their friendship—if she could even call it a friendship. By now, Eb might have assumed that she hadn’t found his note, which she’d left sitting right where he’d put it. Even so, she wanted to lay eyes on it a second time to believe that it had really been there . . . and she hadn’t misread it. And she wanted to write a note back to him if she could just get out from under Aunt Joanna’s stern gaze. “I have a bad habit of muttering, Mamma says,” Eliza told her aunt at last. “I’m sorry for displeasing you, Aendi.”
“Well, mutterin’ ain’t becoming to a young woman, I’m sure you know.” Aunt Joanna sighed so long and deep, Eliza wondered if she might be taking ill. She certainly looked white in the face over there across the table. Since Eliza’s arrival, she had seemed to wither, and Eliza wished she could make her aunt’s life easier. The reason I’m here, after all, she thought guiltily.
“If ya don’t mind, I’ll get started heating up the dishwater,” Eliza said, remembering to excuse herself first. She reached for the dessert plates and forks and carried them over to the sink, still quivering inside.
Mamma never said how hard it would be, living here, she thought with a glance over her shoulder at the table. Her great-aunt had slumped down in her chair, undoubtedly exhausted after the confrontation. Persistent as she is.
———
Once Eliza’s work in the kitchen was done and her aunt had taken herself off to bed for a long afternoon nap, Eliza hurried to her own room. There, she wrote the note she had been composing in her head repeatedly for the last three days since discovering Eb’s own startling note. What had gotten into her to second-guess her feelings for Eb like this? All the same, she’d found herself daydreaming about him. Was she making a mistake upon a mistake?
Lest her aunt get any ideas, Eliza hid her little diary under the bureau, kneeling down to push it far back against the wall and out of sight.
Then, rushing out of the house and up the road to the wall, she looked for the spot where Eb’s note had been. There’s the tall pin oak, like a watchman on the lookout. . . .
She quickly found the crevice in the wall, as well as Eb’s note, which was still there. Tugging it out from its well-concealed spot, she opened it with trembling fingers. Her eyes flew at once to the lines that had angered her upon first reading.
I’ve missed seeing you, Eliza. I like spending time with you. But since we really shouldn’t be seen together because of our different backgrounds—if you would even like to see me again, that is—I wondered if you might leave a note here for me, too . . . if you’ve found this one. . . .
She dropped to the ground and sat there in the sunlight as tears sprang to her eyes. If you would even like to see me again, Eb had written.
“Jah,” she whispered, blinking away these sudden tears. “I do want to see you, more than you know.”
But I shouldn’t, she reminded herself, realizing that Eb had written nearly the same thought.
“What’s gotten into me?” she wondered aloud, then remembered what her great-aunt had said about young women and muttering. “Puh!” She reached in her pocket for a hankie and promptly dried her eyes. “I best get ahold of myself.”
She found her note in the other pocket, the one she’d penned to Eb back at the house, and reread it, her heart beating fast. Then, knowing she could never let him read such friendly-like thoughts, she wondered again what on earth she had been thinking. Was she simply lonely for home and family?
Eliza sat there in the thick green grass and tore up her note, pushing the pieces back into her pocket. I’d be a Dummkopp to give this to him!
With that, she rose and scurried across the meadow toward the road.
Her eyes were cast down as she hurried on her way, hugging the shoulder as she went. Her thoughts were a combination of self-reproach and bewilderment, and it embarrassed her even more that she had actually thought it was all right to return a note to Eb.
Dat would say I’m playing with fire. Tears threatened again.
The wind was gusting, blowing her skirt as she made the turn in the road, not far from her aunt’s house. Just then, she heard a horse’s clip-clop slow up, and when she looked, there was Eb, bringing his spring wagon to a halt. He waved to her, and her heart sank.
“I was just now thinking of ya, Eliza. Haven’t seen ya for a while,” he said, looking over her head at the road. “Say, are those bread crumbs, trailin’ along behind ya?”
She turned and gasped to see small fragments of her note scattered everywhere. They must have fallen out because of the wind! Hurrying, she went to pick them up, one by one, and pushed them deeper into her pocket this time.
“Eliza?” Eb was frowning. Then a knowing look swept across his handsome, ruddy face. “Wait a minute . . . did ya go to the stone wall?”
She wanted to deny it outright and not give him the satisfaction of fessing up to finding his note. Yet at the very same time, she wanted him to ask her to ride with him. It was the strangest feeling.
What’s wrong with me?
“Guess the cat’s got your tongue,” he said, chuckling.
She pressed her lips together, needing to calm down so she didn’t say something she didn’t mean. Or maybe she did. Either way, she would put herself in even worse straits. “I found your note last Sunday night, but I put it back where it was,” she admitted.
An endearing smile appeared on his face, but he quickly got control of it. “So did you write one back to me?”
She nodded, her head bowed so he wouldn’t see how tenderhearted she felt toward him just now.
“I’m glad you read my note, Eliza.” His voice was gentle, with none of the old bluster.
She couldn’t speak, her heart was racing so.
“What if we talk this evening at the stone wall—you know the spot. Eight o’clock sharp.”
A surge of energy ran through her. “All right,” she said, loud enough for him to hear.
“So long for now, Eliza.” He signaled the horse to pull away from the shoulder and back onto the road.
She refused to second-guess her decision to see him tonight. She held her head high as she made her way down the road toward Great-aunt Joanna’s old farmhouse, glad she’d gone over to the stone wall and run into Eb on her way back. Ever so glad, yet also ever so frightened that she’d dared to say yes.
Chapter 35
There were a few stragglers at Peaceful Meadows after the second session of Saturday morning riders, primarily volunteers and a few parents. Anna walked from the horse stable over to the carriage shed, just as Gabe had suggested earlier.
Only a moment passed before he appeared with his mare and tied her to the post, then began to pull the gray enclosed carriage out of the shed and into the sunlight. Gabe backed the mare into the shafts, giving Anna a kind of tutorial as he worked. He seemed quite serious about the hitching-up process—as an essential part of his life, it had become second nature to him. But Anna had to wonder why he was giving her a running discourse on what he was doing, step by precise step.
When at last they were on their way, Anna beside him on the front seat, Gabe began to talk about her “excellent involvement” with the other volunteers. “Also, with one rider specifically,” he added.
She assumed he meant Emmie but wondered what he might say further.
“My sister-in-law Barbara Mast—I know you’ve met her—has been sayin’ what I believe, what I hope, to be true.”
She turned to look at him, there on the driver’s side of the carriage, holding the driving lines in a more relaxed manner than Sad
ie ever had.
“Barbara thinks Emmie might be on the verge of a breakthrough,” he continued.
Anna remembered holding her breath as Emmie nuzzled up to Promise, leaning her head against his flank as though Emmie didn’t know Anna was observing her. And then today, she’d reached for Anna’s apron.
“What do you think?” Gabe glanced her way.
Anna shared with him what she had observed. Then, for no particular reason, she asked why he thought Emmie had stopped speaking when her mother died.
“Emmie’s life was stitched into Emily’s,” he began. “Emily liked to call her a Mamma’s girl, since her every waking minute was spent with my wife. Their bond was precious.” Gabe also mentioned that he’d built his first tree house for his wife and Emmie. “They played house in there, took naps in the afternoon, had picnics, and whatnot all.” He paused and looked the other way for a moment.
Then, his voice quieter now, he went on. “Emily adored Emmie and had so many plans for her when she grew up. She wanted to teach her to cook and do piecework and quilt and garden and sew, like all the other Amish girls. But Emmie was only three when Emily died of cancer after a short remission.”
Anna was aware of how Gabe’s face softened whenever he spoke of his daughter. “Emmie’s your gift from heaven,” she said, hesitant to say more yet appreciative of how frank Gabe had been about such a painful subject.
“I can’t help but think that you and Emmie have a special connection, too,” Gabe said, startling her. “She doesn’t respond even to her Mammis the way she does to you, Anna.”
But I’m basically a stranger, thought Anna.
Gabe turned to look at her, his eyes meeting hers. “Do ya understand what I’m sayin’?”
Anna was rather embarrassed. “I think so.”
“Well, I’ve been considering something, but I don’t want to seem presumptuous.” Pausing a bit, he returned his gaze to the road. “What would ya think of spendin’ more time with Emmie in addition to bein’ her side walker?” He added that, since the horse riding therapy would come to an end after September, which really wasn’t far away, Emmie would miss Anna and perhaps regress. “Just think about whether it’s something you’re interested in.”
Anna sensed his apparent earnestness. I’m already so busy, she thought, wondering if this was a good idea. Yet when she thought of Emmie, how could she refuse?
Gabe continued, “I was thinkin’ maybe once a week at the house.”
I really ought to consider doing this, she thought, then reminded him that, besides the Lord’s Day, she only had Fridays and Saturdays off. “Whatever I can work out, it would have to be during one of those two days.”
“Don’t ya want to think ’bout it first?” Gabe’s eyes were questioning.
“Well, I’d like to help Emmie, if I can.”
“This wouldn’t be babysitting, mind you. And I don’t expect ya to work for nothin’,” he quickly added.
Anna shook her head. “Oh nee . . . I wouldn’t accept pay.”
Gabe’s shoulders rose and fell as though a weight had been lifted. “Denki, Anna. You don’t know what this’ll mean to her.” He directed the horse onto a paved driveway that led back off the road to a large dairy farm. “Here we are,” he said, halting the mare. “I need to pick up some butter and cottage cheese.” He indicated he would just be a few minutes. “Feel free to wait here if you like.”
She presumed he was just being thoughtful, or that he didn’t want to introduce her to whoever was selling the butter and cottage cheese. But why did he need my help today if I’m just sitting here while he loads the back of the buggy? she wondered, guessing he’d used it as an excuse to talk with her about Emmie.
As she sat there waiting, she realized more fully what she’d agreed to do. What if perhaps Gabe was also hoping to have more time with her? If that was the case, what would happen to Emmie if Anna were to step back at some point, away from the two of them? Wouldn’t it be hard on the little girl?
The last thing I want to do is to jeopardize her progress, she thought. Oh goodness, am I doing the right thing?
Sadie tried not to let on, but she thoroughly enjoyed hearing Anna tell about her carriage ride with Gabe. Her parents won’t be pleased if this leads to something more than friendship, she thought, yet she couldn’t help but be tickled at the thought of a spark between Gabe and Anna.
“Gabe’s concerned that Emmie might have a setback after the horse riding therapy season is over,” Anna explained.
“So, she’s become attached to ya?” Sadie asked.
“Apparently. At least it sounds like Emmie’s aunt thinks so.”
“Well, I’m not surprised, seein’ ya with our little ones next door,” Sadie said, chopping celery on the cutting board for a Waldorf salad at noon.
“If I can make a difference for Emmie, I’d like to try.” Anna went on to say that Gabe had offered to pay for her time on Friday mornings, the day they’d settled on. “But it’s not necessary. It’s the right thing to give of oneself for another, just as God expects.”
Sadie agreed, but she could just hear it now: If Anna got more entangled in Gabe Allgyer’s life and family, what would Rachel and Alvin Beachy say? They’ll wonder why I didn’t step in and put a stop to it! she thought.
The following Friday, Anna drove to the address Gabe had given her, taking note of Aden and Barbara Mast’s farm on the right side of the road as she neared Gabe’s smaller white clapboard house with its black shutters. She could easily spot the silver numerals on the big black mailbox out front, where a nearby half barrel contained red and white petunias.
Here we are, she thought, thinking that she hadn’t seen Gabe since going to get butter and cottage cheese with him last Saturday. She wondered what he’d told Emmie about this visit today.
Walking around to the back yard of the house, she found Gabe throwing a large pink ball to Emmie, his laughter filling the air as she caught the lightweight ball. He looked relaxed and handsome in his gray short-sleeved shirt, its top button undone, and black broadfall trousers with black suspenders. His usual straw hat rested on the back porch steps.
Emmie was completely silent as she threw the ball, then opened her arms, her fingers stretched wide, in an attempt to catch it. She looked adorable in her mint green dress and matching long apron, her hair twisted rather loosely into a tiny chunk of a bun. Several strands had come free, and Anna wondered who had helped with her hair.
Not wanting to startle Emmie or interrupt their play, Anna hung back, waiting for the right time to make her presence known.
In a few minutes, the ball rolled toward her, and Emmie turned to fetch it. When she did, she spotted Anna there at the end of the walkway. Stopping in her tracks, she broke into a genuine smile.
“Hullo, Emmie,” Anna said, slowly walking toward her. “Looks like you’re having fun.” She glanced over at Gabe, who motioned for her to join them, eyes alight.
“Would ya like to play three-corner catch with us?” he asked, waiting for Emmie to return to her spot on the lawn with the ball.
“Okay!” Anna set her purse on the back porch step beside his hat and hurried to join them.
———
After playing for a while, Emmie went to the back porch to get her faceless dolly from one of the chairs and proceeded to walk across the yard to the modest tree house. Gabe suggested that she wanted Anna to go with her.
“How can you tell?” Anna asked as she stood near the porch with him. “I mean, how does she communicate with you?”
“It wasn’t easy at first, but now I can understand her pretty well.”
“And she’s never spoken?” Anna finally ventured forward with the question she’d had since meeting the girl.
“She was slow to walk and talk, but she had been trying to put words together before Emily passed.” Gabe paused and sighed. “I think she just quit tryin’ after the person closest to her was gone.”
“I am so sorry.” Anna shoo
k her head.
Gabe nodded. “I know she’s still stingin’ from the pain of loss, even though I don’t see how she remembers Emily well. Not anymore.” He drew a breath. “She was so young when Emily died; I doubt she could comprehend what was happening, really.”
Listening to Gabe, Anna continued to watch Emmie, who had climbed up the ladder and was now sitting on one of the wooden benches in the tree house with her white cat and her doll, just staring down at them.
“There,” Gabe said. “See that look in her eyes?”
Anna nodded. “She telling you something?”
“She wants me to leave so you can join her in the tree house.”
“You’re getting that from one stare?”
“I’ve had a little experience.” He grinned. “And if I’m right, she’ll smile once you’re up there with her.” Turning, he headed across the yard to his shop.
Anna took along the picture book she’d picked up at the library and walked over to the ladder. “Lookee what I have,” she said when she reached the top of the ladder.
Emmie’s stare evolved into a smile.
Chapter 36
WEDNESDAY, JULY 14, 1948
It was still light as Eliza made her way to the stone wall that evening. Thankfully, she hadn’t needed to say that she was leaving to meet a friend, since Aunt Joanna had fallen asleep in her rocking chair there in the kitchen. If the pattern was the same as usual, her aunt would wake up in about forty minutes and then head off to her room for the night, never aware that Eliza wasn’t in her own room reading the Good Book, as was her pattern this time of the evening.
When Eb saw her coming, he climbed over from his side of the stone wall and walked toward her, carrying a paper bag. “Hullo, Eliza . . . you’re right on time.”
“I am,” she replied, ever so glad to be with him again, though she never would have thought so a week ago.
He asked if she’d like to sit with him in the grass and have some cookies he’d brought from home, and she agreed. “Did ya have a gut day?” he asked once they were seated near the tall oak tree.
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