The Stone Wall

by Beverly Lewis

  Gabe’s eyes widened, and he frowned as if puzzled. “What’re ya sayin’?”

  Anna explained that, seven decades ago, her Mammi had come to Strasburg for the summer to assist a great-aunt. “While she was here, she met an Old Order fellow, and they exchanged letters using a hiding spot in a stone wall.” She shook her head. “And . . . I know it sounds incredible, but I found the wall . . . and discovered one unopened letter that’d evidently been left behind.”

  “Do ya know who wrote it?”

  “It was signed by someone named Eb Lapp.” She paused, wondering what Gabe thought of all this. “Unfortunately Eb’s not a name I’ve heard round here.”

  There was a weighty pause, and then Gabe said slowly, “I know an Eb Lapp. He’s up in years, though, so I’m not sure he’d remember much ’bout this.”

  Anna’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  Reaching for her hand, Gabe said, “Eb is my grandfather’s nickname. Ebenezer Lapp.”

  She stared at him. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Oh, it’s mighty true.”

  “So . . . your Dawdi was in love with my Mammi?” Anna felt so shocked, it was hard to get the words out.

  Gabe nodded, looking as surprised as she felt. “Through the years I’ve heard snippets from my older relatives ’bout a long-ago forbidden love, but I never gave it much thought.”

  Anna shook her head and glanced down at their hands, clasped together.

  Gabe was chuckling now. “What a story, ain’t!”

  “I’ll say,” Anna said, wishing with all her heart that Mammi Eliza could have been alive to overhear this conversation.

  That Lord’s Day, Anna attended church one last time in Bird-in-Hand, then drove over to meet Gabe at his house, where he was waiting beside the hitched-up horse and buggy. He smiled and waved when he saw her, clearly eager to take her to meet his Dawdi Eb. On the way, they stopped at Aden and Barbara’s and took Emmie inside to spend the afternoon.

  As they rode, Anna learned more about the elderly gentleman who had yearned to court her Mammi Eliza so long ago. Gabe also told her that Eb lived in a small Dawdi Haus next to his daughter and son-in-law’s place. “He has Parkinson’s, so his hands shake,” Gabe said, a noticeable softness and respect in his voice. “But he’s as sharp as ever, thank the Lord. And he’ll enjoy meetin’ ya, Anna . . . ’specially given the letter you found.”

  “To think that I’m the granddaughter of his first love,” Anna said, having brought the letter with her, wanting to show it to both Gabe and his grandfather whenever it seemed appropriate.

  Gabe glanced at Anna as he held the driving lines. “Are ya nervous?”

  “A little,” she admitted.

  He winked at her. “You won’t have to say a word to win him over, Anna. Trust me.”

  “I do,” she said, love filling her heart.

  The meadow lay fallow in clover on either side of Ebenezer’s little house. The meadow’s edges were lined with a profusion of sumacs, wild-raspberry canes, and the browned stalks of wild flowers, no longer blooming due to several hard frosts.

  Pretty sandstone steppingstones made a pathway around to the Dawdi Haus, where they found white-haired Eb Lapp in his toasty kitchen, sitting peacefully in his rocker close to his black heater stove.

  “Hullo, Dawdi, I’ve brought someone to meet ya,” Gabe announced as they let themselves in the back door.

  Eb pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and looked their way. “Well, ’tis ’bout time ya found yourself a perty girl again.” He chuckled and pulled on his long white beard. “Don’t mind me, dear,” he said, his voice frail and husky.

  “Jah, Dawdi Eb doesn’t always think before he speaks.” Gabe was grinning now.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, stepping forward to shake his hand. “I’m Anna Beachy.”

  Eb frowned, tilting his head this way and that. “Say now, ya look like someone I used to know.” He kept his eyes on her. “Someone I knew when I was chust a young fella.”

  Gabe brought two chairs over from the table and offered one to Anna. He scooted closer to Eb and sat down. “Anna’s from Mifflinburg,” Gabe said, glancing now at her.

  “Mifflinburg, ya say?” Eb’s brow wrinkled as his face grew more serious.

  “Jah,” Gabe replied.

  The grandfather clock in the small sitting room next to the kitchen struck a resounding two.

  “You wouldn’t be related to the Hertzlers, would ya?” Eb tugged again on his long beard. “Ach, ya must think I’m all but ferhoodled.” He sighed.

  “Not at all, Dawdi,” Gabe spoke for Anna, nodding to her.

  Anna moved her chair a little closer to Eb’s. “Do you remember a girl named Eliza Hertzler?”

  Eb glanced at the ceiling and stared at it for a moment. “Honest to Pete, never forgot ’bout her . . . not to say I wasn’t devoted to my wife, Miriam,” Eb added, looking now at Gabe. “There’s just something ’bout one’s first love. . . .”

  Anna thought of Gabe just then; his first love had gone to be with the Lord.

  Eb kept studying Anna, not concealing his scrutiny in the least. “You must be somehow related to Eliza, then.”

  Anna nodded, delighted to be talking to this man who had once meant so much to her beloved Mammi. “I’m her granddaughter.” She didn’t say that Eliza was no longer living. One thing at a time . . .

  “Well, what do ya know.” Eb shook his head and looked over at Gabe like he was in a daze. “I have to say, I never expected this.”

  Glancing at Gabe, Anna removed the letter from her purse.

  “Anna has somethin’ mighty special to show ya, Dawdi,” Gabe said, giving Anna courage with a thoughtful smile.

  “Go right ahead, young lady.” Eb turned in his rocker just a bit, leaning his head to look at her through the upper part of his spectacles.

  “I believe I’ve found what might’ve been the last letter you wrote to my Mammi,” Anna said, handing it to him. “One she probably never read.”

  Eb looked baffled. “Ach, are ya sure?”

  For a moment, he studied it and held it out away from him, peering down through his bifocals. Then after a time, he shook his head and handed it back to Anna. “I always thought Eliza read it and was offended by it . . . ran away. According to the grapevine, she left town with her parents.”

  Anna didn’t go into the details of how she had discovered the letter in the stone wall, seeing how Eb was trying to wrap his mind around this.

  “Guess Eliza never got it.” Eb still looked confused. “And all that time, I thought it was me suggestin’ to leave my church for hers that scared her off.”

  “I really don’t know what made her return home. Mammi was always rather tight-lipped about that summer here.” Anna added that she could ask her mother about it if he’d like.

  “Ach, no need,” Eb said, waving it off. He sat there rocking now, his eyes closed as though suddenly weary. After a time, he opened them and looked Anna’s way again. “How’d ya come to know ’bout the stone wall?”

  She had wondered if he might ask and told him that Mammi Eliza had first mentioned it when Anna told her that she was coming to live in Strasburg. “At the time, Mammi’s memory wasn’t too reliable, but there were moments when it was clear. After that, whenever I spoke of Strasburg, she’d try to talk about a stone wall, even though none of it really seemed to make sense to my family.”

  “But it did to you?” Eb asked, nodding sagely.

  “Since my childhood I’ve been very close to her, so maybe I just picked up something about her sincerity when she’d bring up the stone wall. That and a tall pin oak tree . . . evidently she waited for you there,” Anna said.

  With a handkerchief, Eb wiped his moist eyes, then his forehead. “A couple years after that summer, I married a wunnerbaar young woman. My disappointment over Eliza’s leavin’ actually led me to Miriam, my bride of sixty-five happy years.”

  Anna glan
ced at Gabe, and he held her gaze, his eyes full of affection.

  “You two . . . are yous a couple?” Eb asked, slowing his rocking some.

  “Just started dating,” Gabe said, winking at Anna.

  “But you ain’t Amish, are ya, Anna?” Eb asked.

  Gabe intervened and said she was Beachy Amish. “A close cousin to our way of life, as you know.”

  “Ah, same as Eliza.” Eb smiled. “Makes sense.”

  “But Anna says she’ll be joinin’ the People here, doin’ much like what you offered to do for Eliza,” Gabe explained.

  “Well, how about that. A fine turnabout,” Eb said, shaking his head again. “Praise be!”

  “Only the Lord knows the path our lives will take. Feels a little to me like your relationship with Eliza’s come full circle, Dawdi . . . and right here before your eyes,” Gabe said, looking earnestly at Anna.

  She nodded, deeply touched by his words—and this remarkable visit. To think that Eb and Mammi’s heartbreak made it possible for Gabe and me to meet and fall in love, she thought, marveling at the goodness of God’s plans.

  “The Lord knew this all along,” she whispered, sighing happily.

  Epilogue

  My parents accomplished the joyful challenge of hosting the Beachy clan for Thanksgiving Day. I enjoyed helping with the large spread of food and seeing all my nephews and nieces, as well as dear Wanita, too.

  “We sisters must stick together,” Wanita whispered to me, and I knew she was still struggling with the loss of Mammi Eliza and of me, living now in Strasburg for good.

  The day following that reunion, I welcomed Gabe and Emmie to Mifflinburg, having invited them to meet my parents. After the initial greeting there in Mamm’s warm kitchen, I was heartened to see Dat invite Gabe out to the pony stable while Emmie and I enjoyed our fill of leftover cookies and bars from yesterday’s variety of desserts.

  I had previously shared with my parents that Emmie did not speak, but that didn’t keep my mother from engaging her with a musical top and other toys she kept in a box for the grandchildren.

  It was during the noon meal that I became convinced that Gabe was winning my father over. To my surprise, the two began to discuss Scripture verses that had ministered to them through the years. My prayerful hope that, given time, Dat would come to appreciate Gabe was already coming true.

  While passing the creamy, buttery mashed potatoes and thick chicken gravy, I noticed that Emmie was eating particularly well today, enjoying Mamm’s good cooking. Mamm had also been thoughtful to set Emmie’s place right next to mine.

  Truly, I had so much to be thankful for. To think that Gabe had been willing to come the distance to spend this special time with my parents and me. I’m falling more in love with him every day, I thought, catching his gaze.

  Deep autumn’s winds and frost swept away the last of the dazzling leaves, and with December’s cold and snow, my schedule at the information center slowed to three days a week. On my days off, I stayed indoors with Emmie, teaching her easy tasks like making basting stitches, wiping dishes, making her bed, and helping to sort the laundry. Helping Gabe with Emmie during the daytime made sense, and I kept her busy while he drew up blueprints for more tree houses.

  On Christmas afternoon, Gabe surprised Emmie with a beautiful palomino pony named Splash. Thereafter, on the mildest days, Gabe and I assisted her as she rode back and forth down the driveway.

  So much has changed since I first met them, I thought, excited to see how well balanced and secure Emmie seemed to be on the pony with only her father’s help.

  All winter long, my bond with Emmie grew like a flourishing flower. I took her everywhere I could, either in the car or around the neighborhood in the buggy, which Gabe had taught me to drive. Of course, I was still getting used to hitching up, but my goal was to complete that chore with ease before the bumblebees flew in early spring. When we’ll start going barefoot again, I thought, wondering if Mammi Eliza might just be smiling down from above, seeing as how I’d fallen for an Old Order Amishman.

  In early May, when the lavender redbuds and white and pink dogwoods blossomed, Gabe asked me to take him to the spot in the stone wall where I’d found Eb’s love letter. It was a superbly sunny morning, with only a few thin clouds over near the green hills to the north. Emmie had gone to spend the morning with Barbara’s sons, so it was just Gabe and me walking along the row of black walnut trees. Before today, I hadn’t returned to the spot where I’d found the grass-covered tree stump, so it was a bit of a challenge to locate it.

  “Are ya sure it wasn’t just a dream?” Gabe joked, searching the ground with me for the stump.

  “Guess I should’ve marked it.” Oh, I wished I had!

  For several minutes, we walked south, traveling along the stone wall.

  “Maybe it’s farther up,” Gabe said.

  I shook my head, wondering what had become of it, and looking all the more carefully.

  “Wait . . . what’s this?” Gabe said, pointing to where a piece of paper was protruding from the wall. He walked forward and tugged on it, managing to loosen it.

  Befuddled, I peered at the folded paper.

  “Let’s see what this says.” He opened the paper and began to read aloud. “To my dearest Anna Beachy. I’m certainly not the letter writer Dawdi Eb was, but I can easily write the words I love you and say that I don’t want to live a single day of my life without you in it. Will you join your heart with mine and be my wife?”

  By now, I could scarcely see for the tears, and I pulled out a hankie from my dress pocket. “I will,” I said, smiling now. “I wondered when you might ask me, Gabe, but I never dreamed it would be in such a meaningful way.”

  Gabe glanced both ways quickly, then took me into his arms for the first time. “I’ll tell ya a little secret,” he whispered.

  “Jah?” I said, eager for our wedding day, when we could lip-kiss.

  “It was Dawdi Eb’s idea for me to propose to you like this.” Gabe kissed my cheek. “I daresay he’s the hopeless romantic in the family.”

  “Well, you should talk!” I reached around his neck and hugged him again.

  “Are ya ready to start baptismal instruction?” he asked as we walked back toward his horse and buggy.

  I said I was.

  Gabe took my hand in his. “You’re sacrificing so much for me. And for Emmie.”

  “But oh, what I’m getting in return!” I said, looking into his eyes as he gently helped me into the passenger side of his carriage.

  That noon, at Sadie and Glen’s dinner table, I shared about my engagement. They smiled nearly in unison. “I called my parents to tell them my happy news, too,” I said, “but I wanted you to be the next to hear it.”

  Glen was grinning now and pulling on his suspenders. He looked Sadie’s way.

  “We couldn’t be happier for ya, Anna,” Sadie said, eyes glistening. “Ain’t so, Glen?”

  He bobbed his head, clearly moved to the point of not being able to speak.

  “Looks like I’m going to be a permanent part of your community,” I said. “Come next September’s baptism Sunday, I’ll be one of the People.”

  “The Good Lord brought you and Gabe together, I do believe,” Glen said, finally finding his voice.

  I smiled. “And little Emmie, too. A family of three.”

  After I helped Sadie redd up the kitchen, I headed to my room to read more of Mammi Eliza’s journal. Toward the back pages, I noticed something at the end of her November entry that year, where she was counting her blessings at Thanksgiving time. I don’t regret coming home from Strasburg when I did. God’s hand was on me, I know that for sure. And, too, a certain young man here in Mifflinburg has caught my attention: John Slaubaugh, who asked me out for a date. I’m so happy!

  That evening, when I visited Gabe, he told Emmie that he was going to marry me come November. “She’ll be your new Mamma.”

  Emmie’s eyes widened, and she let out a giggle.

>   I looked at Gabe, wondering if he’d heard it, too.

  Emmie reached for her dolly on the wooden bench next to her and held it up. “Anna,” she said clearly, pointing to the doll.

  “Ach, honey-girl,” Gabe murmured softly.

  Tears sprang to my eyes. “You named your dolly after me?”

  Nodding, Emmie’s eyes sparkled.

  “Oh, sweetie.” I reached for her, and Emmie’s little arms slipped around me, holding on as if for dear life.

  There were only a handful of perfect moments in an entire lifetime, I realized, and here I’d cherished two such moments in the space of a single day.

  Thank you, dear Lord, for hearing my prayers, I prayed silently, looking first at Gabe, then dear little Emmie. Such an unforgettable day of days!

  Author’s Note

  During an autumn stay at a New Hampshire inn, I came across a coffee table book titled Sermons in Stone by Susan Allport, which intrigued me with its many historical facts about the stone walls of the Northeast. To my surprise, the paperback edition of that same book appeared under the Christmas tree that year, wrapped and tied with a pretty bow from my husband, Dave, and I was happily able to finish reading it. As I often do, I filed away my impressions—the tiny first seeds of this novel—and later wrote the manuscript titled The Stone Wall.

  While in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, for Amish-related research a year later, I strolled along the back roads near Strasburg’s historic stone walls and took pictures to assist my art director for this book cover. All the while, I remembered those initial stirrings of the story of Anna Beachy and her quest for a fresh start, and I thanked God for small beginnings.