The Photograph (22 page)

Cousin Connie had two one-gallon jars of meadow tea brewing out on the back step when Naomi arrived with Ida Mae. Glad for her walking stick, Naomi hobbled up the stairs and was greeted warmly by Connie, whose plump cheeks were pink and moist with perspiration. “We've come to help with your sewin' projects,” Naomi announced, to which Connie nodded and grinned.

After a refreshment of fruit and banana bread, Naomi and her daughter set to work, with Connie “directing traffic,” as Abner might have said. Naomi smiled at the thought, glad to be sitting with the light from the window coming over her shoulder.
Best for my eyes.

Ida Mae began to pin on the pattern for Connie's husband's new white shirt while Naomi worked on his black vest.

“Jacob will be mighty thankful,” Cousin Connie told them. “He ripped his old Sunday clothes not long ago while out chasing down two of our mules after church.”

“What's he been wearing to Preachin' since?” Ida Mae asked.

“
Ach
, he borrowed a shirt from his brother and is nearly swimmin' in it,” Connie said, taking another sip of the tea. “And the vest he borrowed from his nephew is three sizes too small, so he has to keep it unbuttoned.” She started to giggle, then covered her mouth. “Oh, if Jacob wasn't a sight last service!”

This got Ida Mae laughing, too. “Now, that's quite a picture, ain't?”

“And ya wouldn't believe how the mules escaped. Our watch dog let 'em out,” Connie told them.

“Wha-at?” Naomi thought for sure she'd heard wrong.

“
Jah
, Buster jumped up and knocked the gate latch loose.” Connie shook her head and laughed. “Have ya ever heard such a thing?”

“That's quite a story,” Ida Mae agreed. “Dat would enjoy that one.”

“Abner's had his fair share of
gut
stories, seems to me,” Naomi said. “He's got a whole river of 'em, including one about the wintry day a snowbird spooked his driving horse and put the buggy into quite a spin. Round and round they went.” Naomi bobbed her head. “Goodness, ain't?”

Connie's eyes widened. “Well, that
is
somethin'!”

Naomi nodded. “It would've been one rousing gathering today if Abner were here.” She didn't reveal that he'd offered to bring them, and now she almost wished he had.

———

Later, when Naomi had finished sewing the vest seams and was hand stitching the facing, Connie said outright that she feared Lily Esch was setting a poor example for other young girls in the area.

“That story's not over yet,” Naomi said softly yet firmly.

“But she's left the Plain life behind.”

Ida Mae spoke up. “What Mamma means is we're all beseeching God for the outcome.”

This quieted Connie down some, although it wasn't long before she brought up Jacob's encounter with Omar at the recent auction. “I'm tellin' ya, my husband got himself an earful from your Omar. He thinks it's important to vote for the next president of the United States, of all things. Makes me wonder where he's getting these ideas.”

Naomi felt her face redden, and she wished Connie would calm her tongue. Ida Mae also looked embarrassed.

“You'd think Omar would listen to your head minister up there. Bishop Isaac, ain't? Such a wise man of God.”

“That he is,” Naomi said. “And he often preaches against the sin of gossiping.”

This must have caught Connie off guard, because now
she
was red-faced. Right quick, she made an excuse that she needed to go and check on something upstairs.

“Is this what we get for comin' to help?” Ida Mae whispered.

“Now, don't fall into the same trap Connie's in.”

“It's obvious she's upset with our family—and Lily Esch.”

Naomi pursed her lips. “I believe she means well, I truly do.” Privately, though, it was troubling that news of both Lily and Omar had traveled this far from Eden Valley—though the latter was Omar's own doing, speaking out as he had. And right then, Naomi was glad Abner had allowed her to come here on her own.

The minute the sewing's
done, we'll head home.

E
VA
AND
F
RONA
FINISHED
WASHING
WINDOWS
at the schoolhouse frolic with the help of other Amish youth who were also involved with sweeping and scrubbing walls and floors, as well as doing repairs on swings and other playground equipment. The sisters had started at eight-thirty that Saturday morning as partners—Frona had practically refused to go unless Eva agreed to this. And stick together they had, scrubbing side by side until Eva's knuckles were pink and peeling.

But when it came time to break for a sack lunch, Sol Peachey came over to the two of them and sat down in a desk next to Frona, who looked so startled she practically bristled. Sol was an eligible young man from one of the Big Valley Amish communities nestled in the central Pennsylvania mountains. Eva knew he was a year younger than Frona and quite the cutup, too.

“Say, I noticed streaks on some of them windows,” Sol mentioned offhandedly. “Saw 'em when I was tightening up the seesaw out yonder.” He gestured in the direction of the playground, a humorous glint in his blue eyes.

“
Puh!
Couldn't have been the windows
I
washed,” Frona said, reaching for her ham and cheese sandwich.

“Well, if you'd like, I could walk you around the building and show ya.”

The brave fella
wants to get her alone for a few minutes.
Eva attempted to squash a smile.

Frona's eyes were wide. “And while we're at it, would ya like me to check on that seesaw you tightened?” she spouted back.

Sol's head went back with his laughter, but evidently he wasn't amused enough to stay put. Rather, he took his lunch and went over to sit near his cousins, in another aisle of desks.

Frona glanced at Eva and smiled mischievously. “That'll teach him,
jah
?” she whispered.

Sighing, Eva wondered if there was ever going to be
anyone
for Frona, for pity's sake!

Later, as they rode toward home, Eva talked of the fun she'd had seeing many of their own relatives at the frolic, as well as a few unfamiliar young men, although most of them were likely younger than Eva and Frona.
We're
inching ourselves right out of the running,
Eva thought but said nothing about that to her decidedly prickly sister.

“No one breathed a word 'bout Lily's absence,” Frona said as Prince turned into the driveway.

“Thankfully. 'Twas a relief.”

“Well, I expected someone might.” Frona shrugged and got out near the barn.

Max came running, wagging his furry white tail, begging for some attention.

Eva reached down to give him a nice hard rub around his neck. “
Gut
boy
 . . .
glad we're home?”

She and Frona set to work unhitching the horse, quickly doing the task they'd learned as children, knowing who would
accomplish what. After they had unhooked the tugs and pushed them into the
Hinnergscharr
—the harness on both sides around the back—they held the shafts and led out the horse. Eva volunteered to take their sleek black gelding to the stable, Max nipping at her heels. This was the graceful, swift horse their father had always doted upon, taking apples out to him in the stable, and sugar cubes, too.

“You want something to eat, don't ya?” She reached up and tousled Prince's shiny mane.

In the distance, she spotted the narrow path that led all the way out to a small patch of woods where Eva and Lily had, years ago, stumbled onto a tiny hut concealed by trees and brushwood. At the time, Eva had just started attending school, and Lily had followed her every step that late autumn day. Mamma had been busy with other womenfolk back at the house, making knotted comforters for a sunshine linen shower for two widows and a
Maidel
in need. The three elderly sisters shared a house up the road.

It had been Eva's idea to go exploring, and they'd followed a squirrel down the dirt trail while birds cried overhead, flashing from tree to tree.

The little wooden shack was locked that first day, but Eva managed to pry off the rickety catch and push open the door. The place was bare of furniture, too small for anything more than a table and a chair, if that
 . . .
maybe a spot to count to one hundred while playing hide-and-seek. But Lily had insisted it was a playhouse, and it turned out she was right.

Eventually, they told Dat and Mamma about the enchanting discovery. Dat had forgotten about the cozy little place his own grandfather had built for his three young girls.

Eva recalled taking storybooks Mamma bought and pretending to be the characters, sometimes making up plays from
Little
Women
, their favorite.
It was the most fun when
only Lily and I knew about it,
Eva thought.

With a flash, it occurred to Eva that Lily might feel the same way about her beau in Ohio. Now that she'd gone to pursue him and he was no longer secret, maybe it didn't seem so fun anymore. Eva dearly hoped so.
Does she miss us at all?

“Eva!” Frona called, pulling her out of her reminiscing. “Sylvia Lantz is coming up the road, headin' this way. Are you expectin' her?”

Tilly and her family must be arriving.
“I'll come right back to the house soon as I stable Prince,” Eva told her.

By the time Eva was finished watering the horse and putting more feed into his trough, Sylvia was walking barefoot through the side yard, waving.

“
Wie
geht's
, Sylvia?” Eva hurried her step.

Sylvia was beaming. “We'd like to invite you and Frona to come for dessert this evening. Tilly and Kris will be arrivin' in a couple more hours. Would ya like that?”

“If you're sure it won't put you out,” Eva said and invited her inside for something to drink.

Sylvia shook her head, saying she had just a few things to do yet. “It's no trouble at all, and I know you'll enjoy meeting Tilly. Oh, and I'll remember to put a bug in her ear 'bout taking some time to talk with you, all right? Maybe a nice walk?”

“She might be tired from travelin'. So whatever works out is fine.”

“Tilly's on the go a lot, and she'll be ready to stretch her legs.” Sylvia smiled, then hurried down the driveway toward the road.

Sylvia's so thoughtful.
Eva was curious to interact with the woman's
Englischer
daughter. She recalled hearing from Mamma that the former Amishwoman had been quite outgoing, and with a mind of her own even before leaving the community instead of
joining church. But being thirteen years younger, Eva had never had reason to encounter Tilly one-on-one.

Eva headed into her quiet little shop and began to wipe down the counters and the empty display case. She swept the floor and got down on her hands and knees to scrub the wide planks till they gleamed.

Then she went around to the cupboard and found her favorite candy dish, a gift from Mamma on her sixteenth birthday. “The day Dat died,” she whispered, carefully turning the pink bowl-like dish in her hands. She still remembered the delicious roast beef dinner Mamma had made for the noon meal that day. Dat had been smiling as he often did as he sat down to eat; then his kindly face turned solemn when he reverently bowed for the silent blessing.

If only they'd known he would not return to them alive, she would have asked him to linger long after the midnight chocolate cake was served and Lily had started up the birthday song, leading out in her pretty soprano voice. Eva would never have let him leave the house.

All was well with our family
then. . . .

Gently sliding the lovely dish back into its spot, she turned and looked around her. She tried not to think of having to say good-bye to this special place
 
when she married the man her heart yearned for, or if she was the one to go and live elsewhere. “It's in Thy hands, O Lord,” she whispered into the air that usually held such an inviting aroma.

She moved to stand near the window, thankful for dear parents who had taught her and her siblings to love and revere their heavenly Father. And to trust always.

“Surely Lily hasn't forgotten so quickly. . . .”

“We prob'ly shouldn't rush the Lantzes' suppertime,” Frona cautioned when she heard about Sylvia's invitation.

“
Jah
, we'll give Tilly and her family time to settle in and have a nice hot meal with Lester and Sylvia.” Eva dried the plates carefully, remembering how Mamma loved to talk with them while cleaning up the kitchen, asking about their school day and what they'd learned. “Mamma really liked people, didn't she?” Eva asked, the question popping out.

“Like Lily, ya mean?”

“Well, not sure I meant that, but maybe.”

“Mamm was a talker, for sure.”

Eva nodded. “And Lily used to be.”

“Wonder what made her change so.”

Eva felt she knew, and if Frona thought more about it, she would, too. Lily had been just fifteen when their father died, and now she'd lost Mamma. And their younger sister was surely feeling pressured to join church, from Menno, especially. “Did Lily ever talk with Mamma 'bout taking baptismal instruction, do ya know?” Eva asked.

“Never heard.”

Eva put away the dried dishes and tumblers. “Think what would've happened if she
had
been baptized and then ran off.” She shuddered.

“Knowin' Bishop Isaac, she'd be under the temporary
Bann
already unless she came back and repented.”

The shun,
Eva thought. “Lily has a soft heart. Truly she does.”

Frona reached for the soiled pans and slid one into the sudsy water. “But if a body's not careful, a heart can turn to stone.”

“Mamma once said the Lord sometimes lets things happen to break the hardness
 . . .
to make a heart pliable again.”

Frona handed the clean pan to her to dry. “To be honest, I'm
afraid to pray ‘whatever it takes' for the Lord God to bring Lily home,” Frona admitted.

Eva shivered again.

On the long walk over to Lester Lantz's farm, Eva noticed a possum lying dead off to the side of the road. “I sure didn't see it on the way home earlier.”

“A car must've got him,” Frona said, scrunching up her face.

“Makes me wonder 'bout Lily. Do ya think she'd try driving? Not that she would be reckless.”

Frona looked at her. “Driving already?”

“What'll stop her if she wants to be fancy? The longer she's gone, the more likely she'll fall into the world's grasp.” Eva sighed. “I'd like to ask Tilly 'bout how long it took before she felt settled on the outside.”

“I hope you're prepared to pry it out of her.” Frona sounded adamant.