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Chapter Four

More white Kapps and curious faces appeared in the archway leading to the sitting room. The women all stared at Ruth, her mother, Aunt Martha and Aunt Alma. Fortunately, Lydia came to the rescue. Bouncing a wailing infant on her shoulder, she pushed through the crowd and raised her strident voice above little Henry’s cries. “Shouldn’t we get to work on the quilt?”

“Ya,” Mam agreed, nodding. “We have much to do.” She linked her arm through Aunt Martha’s. “Come, sit by me, sister. Your stitches are so neat that I find myself inspired just watching you.”

Aunt Martha’s beady eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Mam’s genuine smile weakened her fortitude. “All right, if you want. I never meant harm, you know, Hannah. We have to look out for each other.”

Aunt Alma nodded vigorously. “Ya, we must. You are our dear brother’s wife.”

“It is hard to be a mother,” Aunt Martha added. “Harder still to be a mother without the strong guidance of a husband.”

Several others agreed and apprehensive expressions gave way to general good humor. Whatever the women had heard would soon make the rounds, but Ruth knew that her mother was liked and appreciated in the community. Mam would not come out the worst in this.

“Ruth, could you pull the kitchen shades for me?”

Johanna, who’d come into the kitchen as the others were filing into the sitting room, winked at Ruth as she crossed to the window to help. “What was that all about?” she whispered. “What’s Miriam done now?”

Ruth bit back a chuckle. “I’m in hot water, too. And Mam.”

Her sister made a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue and both broke into suppressed giggles. “For shame,” Johanna admonished.

“Johanna!” Lydia called from the next room. “We can’t start until you assign squares.”

“Go on,” Ruth urged. “I’ll get the shades.”

As Johanna left the room, Ruth turned back to the bank of windows that lined the wall, assuring plenty of light in the big kitchen even in winter. No curtains covered the wide glass panes, just spartan white shades. There was nothing to hide, but drawing the shades after dark was a custom strictly held to in the Amish community.

As Ruth reached for the last blind, she noticed movement near Lydia’s lilac bushes outside the window. At first, she assumed it must be one of the children. But the figure was too tall and broad-shouldered to be a child. She paused, drawing close to the window for a better look, cupping her hands around her eyes to cut down on the glare reflected from light inside the kitchen.

To her surprise, a man stepped out from behind the lilacs almost directly in front of her. Light from the window shone on his face as he turned toward her, and she realized she was almost nose to nose with Eli Lapp.

Ruth jerked back, heart pounding as though she’d been racing Miriam to the orchard. What was he doing there, spying on the women? Was he some kind of pervert? She grabbed hold of the shade and yanked it down, but not before she caught a glimpse of his expression. He was grinning at her!

Cheeks burning, she marched across the kitchen and flung open the back door. “What are you doing out here?” she demanded. “Watching you.”

“Where are your manners?” She ran her hand over her Kapp and then dropped it to her side, once again flustered by him. She’d caught him doing something wrong; why was she the one who felt foolish? “Did your mother never teach you better?” she demanded, trying to cover the awkwardness she felt with anger. “Why would you stare at me through a window?”

“You’re pretty when you’re cross. Did you know that?”

“You! You are impossible!”

“You should have talked to me when I came to your house,” he said, still grinning like a mule. “I just wanted to know if you were all right.”

“I’m fine. I told you that at the school. I’m not hurt.” She paused to catch her breath. “I thank you for checking on me, but—”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“How many sisters?” she repeated. She felt tongue-tied, awkward. She knew she must be as red as a beet. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to talking to boys. She had lots of friends who were boys: Dan, Charley, even Gideon, but none of them had ever made her so…so not like herself. “Why? Why do you ask me that?”

“Don’t you know how many sisters you have? It must be a lot.”

There was a broom standing beside the door. She wanted to pick it up and hit him with it. She’d never wanted to cause hurt to anyone before, but this…this Eli Lapp was impossible. She forced herself to speak calmly. “There is my older sister Johanna, the twins, Miriam and Anna. Anna met you at the door—”

“Aha. So you were listening. You told her to tell me to go away. You were afraid to talk to me,” he said.

“I was not. I was helping my mother put supper on the table. It was not the best time for a guest to arrive uninvited. And now you know I am fine. I have thanked you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you can leave me alone.”

Eli took a step closer. She could smell some kind of shaving lotion or maybe men’s perfume. Who could tell what he would wear? What he might do? But it smelled nice. Manly. “You didn’t answer my question.”

There he was making her feel dizzy again. “What question?”

“How many sisters you have,” he teased. “A teacher’s daughter, you should be good with math.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I know how many sisters I have. There are seven of us.”

“All redheads? I like redheads.”

Unconsciously, Ruth tucked a stray curl back under her Kapp. “That is none of your business. I’m going back inside, and you should go…go wherever your affairs take you.” She turned away.

“Do they have names, these other sisters? Are they all as pretty as you are?”

She spun back, quickly losing control of her patience again. “There’s Johanna, me, Anna, Miriam, Leah, Rebecca and Susanna. And they are all prettier than me.”

“I’d have to see that to believe it.”

Ruth opened her mouth, then closed it. Not knowing what else to say, she closed the door hard and hurried into the sitting room.

She found a seat between Dinah and Anna and located her own sewing kit. It seemed that everyone there was talking at once. Miriam was passing out squares of cloth, and young and old were busy threading needles.

“Dinah has suggested that we hold the end-of-year school picnic early,” Mam said. “She has another idea to help pay for the building repairs.”

“We could invite the other Amish churches,” Dinah explained, “and have a pie auction for the men. Each unmarried woman will bake her favorite pie and donate it, and the bachelors will bid on them.”

“And whoever buys a pie gets to eat lunch with the girl who made it,” Johanna explained. “They do it at the Cedar Hill Church in Nebraska where Dinah’s cousin lives. And they always make lots of money.”

Ruth tried to look interested in the plans, but she couldn’t really concentrate. She kept thinking about what Eli had said. He said she was pretty. No one had ever told her she was pretty. Did he mean it? Why did she care?

Then she thought about what Aunt Alma had said about the letter she’d received. Could it be true? Could Eli have gotten a girl in the family way? Sometimes even Plain youth strayed from Amish beliefs, but such mistakes were rare. She’d never heard of any Plain couple who’d failed to marry if there was a babe coming. If Eli had gotten a girl pregnant, he’d be married now, living in Belleville, wouldn’t he?

“Ruth.” Dinah nudged her and motioned to Hannah. “Your mam wants something from the carriage.”

Ruth looked up.

“That old section of quilt in the black bag,” Mam said. “The one with my great-grandmother’s sunflower pattern. I think we left it under the buggy seat.” She glanced back at Lydia. “It’s not in the best of shape, but it’s so pretty, I’ve always kept it.”

Ruth nodded and rose, then hesitated. What if Eli Lapp was still out there? She didn’t want to see him. Couldn’t. Not after the way he’d teased her…not after the way she’d talked to him.

But there was no way to refuse her mother, not without giving her a reason, and right now the idea of that was more frightening than the idea of coming nose to nose with Eli again.

Forcing herself to move, Ruth picked her way through the closely seated women. As she reached the door, she contemplated what she would do if Eli was still standing outside near the kitchen door. Not that she was afraid of him. She’d simply ignore him. He could grin foolishly at her if he wanted to, but if he got no reaction from her, he’d soon leave her alone. The Yoder girls didn’t associate with boys like him.

Immediately, a flood of confusion washed through her. Was she as lacking in grace as Aunt Martha? Was she judging Eli and finding him guilty, simply on gossip? What if the whole story was wrong? In her eagerness to share, Aunt Alma didn’t always get the details right. What if Eli was innocent of any crime other than riding an ugly motor scooter and coming to Delaware to work in his uncle’s chair shop?

And he’d said she was pretty. She smiled, in spite of herself.

Her heartbeat quickened as she opened the back door and descended the wooden kitchen steps to the yard, eyeing the lilac bushes. There was no sign of Eli there. Near the barn, several small boys chased each other in a game of tag, but there was no sign of the Belleville boy there either. If she could just find her horse and the courting buggy in the dark, amid a sea of black buggies, she could grab the quilt square and hurry back into the house.

Irwin stepped out of the corncrib and walked out into the muddy yard. “Looking for your carriage?”

Irwin was very Plain, even for an Amish, so Plain that he stood out among the other boys. His trousers were too high on skinny ankles; the corners of his mouth were red and crusted, and his narrow shoulders sagged with the weight of a man six times his age. He looked as though he could do with a few good meals and a haircut.

Her mother’s words about being quick to judge echoed in her ears. Was she judging both Irwin and Eli unfairly? Would she be just like her Aunt Martha in ten years?

“I did like you said,” Irwin volunteered. “You said your horse was easy spooked, so I unhitched him and turned him into an empty stall in the barn. Your buggy is in the barn, too.”

It was more words than she’d ever heard Irwin offer at one time. And putting Blackie in the barn was a kind thing to do. “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. Maybe Mam was right; maybe there was more to this boy than anyone saw at first glance.

He tilted his head and reverted to his usual soft stammer. “Sure,” he said, then walked away.

Raindrops spattered her face and arms as she hurried to the barn. Inside, a single lantern hung from a big cross-beam. Dat’s buggy was where Irwin had said it would be, standing alone in the center of the aisle between the box stalls. Blackie raised his head and nickered. Ruth went to him and rubbed his head, noting that a big bucket of fresh water hung from one corner post, and someone had tossed hay into the manger. “Good boy,” she murmured.

“Me or him?”

The voice from inside the buggy startled her. Eli Lapp. Again.

She sucked in a breath and made an effort to hold back the sharp retort that rose to her lips. “Are you still here?” she asked, her voice far too breathy for either of them to believe she was entirely composed.

He chuckled, a deep sound of amusement that made her stomach flip over. “Maybe I hoped you’d come out here looking for me.”

She stared at him. “Why would I do that?”

He grinned. “Tell the truth. You did, didn’t you?”

“Ne. N-not for you. Mam asked me to fetch something from the carriage.”

She hadn’t been able to see him clearly in the shadows outside the house, but she could see him now. Eli was wearing Plain clothes tonight, black trousers, blue shirt, straw hat, but he was still fancy. He was chewing a piece of hay, and it gave him a rakish look.

Hochmut, she thought. But she couldn’t deny that she found him handsome, so handsome that she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Was this temptation? The kind Uncle Reuben talked about in his sermons sometimes?

“Be a shame to waste a courting buggy,” he said. “A Kishacoquillas buggy, if I’m not mistaken.” He offered her his hand. “Why don’t you come up and tell me about it?”

She tucked her hands behind her back. “I just need the bag from under the seat. There’s a piece of an old quilt in it. My sister wanted us to bring it for the pattern.” Now she was rambling. She wanted to leave Mam’s bag and run back to the house to the safety of the women’s chatter.

“Still scared?” He was teasing her again.

“Of what?”

“Me?” He held out his hand seeming to dare her.

She would not get into the buggy with him. It was a bad idea, a decision that could only…But somehow, without realizing how or why, she found herself clasping his hand. It was warm and calloused, a strong hand, and nothing at all like the familiar hands of her sisters.

The next thing she knew, she was perched on the seat beside him.

“See,” he said, grinning at her. “I come in peace.”

“You…you,” she sputtered. “I don’t like you one bit.”

He laughed. “Oh, yes, you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come looking for me. Or gotten into the buggy.” He looked down. “And you wouldn’t still be holding my hand.”

Ruth jerked her hand from his, mortified. It wasn’t that she meant to let him hold her hand; he just had her so confused.

She fumbled under the seat for Mam’s bag. Eli’s all-too-warm leg rested innocently against hers, making her vividly aware of his strong body and broad shoulders. He smelled clean and all male. She’d always hated the stench of tobacco that clung to some men, but there was none of that about Eli. His hair and body were fresh, his old high-tops were polished to a shine, and the nails on his big hands were clean and cut straight across.

“I have to go back inside.”

“Ya, I suppose you do,” he agreed. “But it’s nice sitting here, don’t you think?”

“Ne. I don’t.” It was actually. Her mouth was dry, her heart raced, and her knees felt oddly weak, but the barn did smell good and the rain patting on the tin roof sounded comforting.

And then he took hold of her hand again.

She wanted to pull her hand free. He’d gone too far. She wasn’t the type to be so easy with a boy. Especially one she didn’t know. A boy with a reputation. She had her good name to think of, her family’s. “Let me go, Eli.”

He released her immediately. “You haven’t asked me about the burns on my hands, the injuries I got by coming to your rescue and saving you from a fiery death.” He held out his hands. They were lean hands, a working man’s hands.

“See that? And that?” He indicated two tiny blisters and a faint redness. “I may need to see an English doctor—go to the hospital.”

Ruth could hardly hold back a giggle. “That? That’s the smallest blister I’ve ever seen, Eli. You boys in Belleville must be sissies, to make such a fuss about a little burn like that.”

“Say it again.” He stared intently at her, making her warm all over again. “What?”

“Eli. Say my name again. I like the way you say it.”

Ruth clutched the quilt bag to her chest. “I have to go. I—”

“Ruth?” Irwin pulled open the heavy Dutch door of the barn. “Teacher wants to know what’s taking so long.”

“Coming.” Quickly, she scrambled down, ignoring the offer of assistance from Eli’s outstretched hand.

He chuckled and put a finger to his lips. “I won’t say a word,” he promised. “What happened here in the barn will be our secret.”

“We have no secrets,” she said and marched stiffly away, trying to salvage some shred of dignity.

If Irwin knew that she hadn’t been alone in the buggy, he made no mention of it. She went back to the house. As she neared the sitting-room entrance, she heard Aunt Martha’s raised voice.

“She’s not getting any younger, Hannah. What was wrong with Bennie Mast, I ask you? Eats a little too hearty, maybe, but a good boy, from a good family. I’m telling you, she’s too choosy, your Ruth.”

“She’s that,” Aunt Alma joined in. “And I heard she turned down Alf King, wouldn’t even ride home from the singing with him. If she’s not careful, she’ll miss out on the best catches. She’ll end up marrying some Ohio widower twice her age.”

Ruth stopped short. Bad enough she’d made a fool of herself in the barn, but now her aunt was holding her up as an old maid, someone who couldn’t get a husband. She couldn’t believe they were talking about this again. Why wouldn’t they understand that she couldn’t accept Bennie or Alf or the other boys who’d wanted to drive her home from a young people’s singing? Why couldn’t she make them see that her duty was to remain at home to take care of Susanna and her mother? That not every woman could or even should have a husband and children of her own? Mam needed her. Her little sister needed her. Her responsibility was to her family.

“Here’s your bag, Mam,” she said too loudly as she entered the room. “So many buggies in the yard, it took a while to find ours.” That wasn’t dishonest, was it? Or had her foolishness with Eli Lapp caused her to make up lies as well?

“Look at these colors,” Mam said as she took the bag from Ruth. “Barely faded in all these years. And such beautiful needlework. I vow, Johanna, you must have inherited your great-great-grandmother’s gift with stitchery.”

Ruth settled gratefully into her empty seat and picked up her square of cloth. She would make up for her wasted time in the barn, and she would forget Eli and his inappropriate behavior. It would have been a much easier task if the memory of his hand on hers wasn’t so real or if she could forget how nice it had been sitting next to him in the privacy of the big barn. No boy had ever made her feel that way before.

Hazel Zook’s round cheeks and pink laughing mouth rose to haunt Eli, replacing the image of Ruth Yoder’s angelic face in his mind. He picked up his pace as he strode back across the wet fields toward his uncle’s house. Glimpses of that night flashed in his head. He’d put miles and months between him and Hazel, but it wasn’t enough. He just couldn’t get her and what had happened off his conscience.

Light rain hit him in the face as he walked, and he wondered if coming to Seven Poplars might have been a mistake. Maybe he should have run farther, gone into the English world and never looked back. He wondered what was keeping him from taking that final step? He was already lost to his own faith. People would never let him forget what had happened back in Belleville.

What was he thinking coming here? Was he going to ruin another woman’s life now? Ruth Yoder was a nice girl, a girl from a strict family and church. She deserved respect. And the best thing he could do for her was to stay away. He should never have gone to the Beachys’ tonight. Better choices.

He wished things could have been different, that he’d made a better choice that night at the bonfire. He wished he’d done the right thing, but now it was too late. There was no going back and no changing what had happened.

The bishops and the preachers said that God was merciful; they preached it every service. They said you could be forgiven any sin if you truly repented, and maybe that was true. But what they didn’t say was how you could forgive yourself.

Chapter Five

The following Monday afternoon, Ruth left Susanna and Anna baking bread to walk to the school. Mam wanted to work on lesson plans after supper, and Ruth had offered to carry her heavy books home for her. It was so rare that Ruth had time alone to think, and it was such a pretty day that she enjoyed having the errand.

Eli Lapp and how to handle him was foremost in her mind. It was clear that he wasn’t going to stop following her around until she made him understand that he was wasting his time with her. She needed to explain that it was nothing against him; she had no plans to marry anyone.

Still, she had to admit that she liked being told she was pretty, and that he was both clever and attractive. Vanity, she feared, was one of her sins. After all the talk about her being an old maid, it was nice that someone liked her, but it had to stop. The trouble was, she didn’t know what she should say to Eli. How could she tell him to quit courting her when he’d said nothing about wanting her for his girlfriend? What if he laughed at her? What if he told her that she had completely misunderstood, and she was the last girl he would consider as a wife?

And then there was the problem of Irwin. The boy had promised Mam that he’d meet her at the schoolhouse on Saturday, but he hadn’t shown up, and she’d had no opportunity to speak to him alone at church. Ruth wondered if Irwin had come to school today and if Mam had been able to question him about the fire.

Eli Lapp hadn’t attended the Sunday services, but that hadn’t kept him from being the center of attention. Hearing the girls giggling about how handsome he was, or the mothers repeating that Eli was just the sort of boy that Preacher Reuben warned them about, was no help.

“Shepherds of our church must be diligent to protect our lambs,” Aunt Martha had warned a group of mothers. “The loose ways of the world threaten our faith.”

Ruth wondered if her father would have agreed with Aunt Martha, or would he have made Eli welcome and tried to turn him back to the Plain ways? Ruth hadn’t done anything wrong in the barn, but if people knew she’d been alone in the buggy in the barn with Eli, her reputation could be tarnished. For all she knew, Irwin was the kind of person to tell tales, and that worried her. It wasn’t necessary to simply avoid wrongdoing, but a Plain person had to avoid the perception of wrongdoing as well.

For an instant, just as Ruth rounded the bend through the trees, she remembered the schoolhouse as she’d seen it the day of the fire, and a knot rose in her throat. So many bad things could have happened. But this time, there was no smoke or the scent of smoke. School was out for the afternoon, but a few of the boys had remained for a game of softball on the grassy field. Samuel Mast’s buggy was there, as well as Roman’s big team and wagon, the horses standing nose to nose at the hitching rail.

When Ruth entered the schoolroom by the temporary steps, she found Roman, Samuel and her mother deep in conversation about the building repairs. Mam was smiling, and it sounded as though she was getting her wish for more room. The hand-drawn plans spread out on the desk enlarged the main area by the size of the original cloakroom and included a new porch with an inside sink and water faucet.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Mam exclaimed. “We’ll be able to add eight more desks and a new cloakroom.”

“Will it be done in time for the new school year?” Ruth asked, looking over the drawing.

Roman nodded. “With Eli to help, we’ll finish by September.”

“So Eli’s good with his hands,” Samuel observed.

“Ya, he’s a fine craftsman, that boy.”

“You can go on home,” Mam urged, resting her hand on Ruth’s arm. “We’ve still got things to discuss here, but there’s no need for you to wait for me. If you can take the reading books and the big arithmetic book, I can manage the rest.”

Ruth gathered up all the texts, including the oversize cursive writing book, said goodbye, and walked out of the school. She had just started toward the woods when Eli stepped out from behind the shed.

“Don’t pop out at people like that,” she said. Her cheeks felt as warm as if she’d been standing over a kettle of simmering jam. Just being near him scrambled her wits and made her tongue thick, and she was immediately more annoyed with herself than with him. She was a woman grown and should have more sense.

Worse still, Ruth had the sinking feeling that Eli knew the effect he had on her. “What do you want?” she asked.

“Does a person have to want something or can a person just say hello?”

He had a good point, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She moved around him and continued walking. “Home.”

In two strides, he caught up with her and scooped the books out of her arms. “These are heavy. Let me drive you in Uncle Roman’s wagon.”

“I prefer to walk.” She tried to retrieve Mam’s textbooks, but Eli held fast to them.

“I guess you can take them in the wagon if you want to.” Ruth walked away. “Just leave them on our porch.”

“I’ll walk.” He chuckled as he caught up. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you, Ruth Yoder? Miriam said you were.”

All the Yoder girls were a handful. He liked that, and he liked their mother, Hannah. It wasn’t often you found a widow teaching school. He thought the whole family was a breath of fresh air, even if Ruth could be as prickly as a green briar vine. He’d never known a girl to be so immune to his charms.

“When did you talk to Miriam? Certainly not at church.”

“I’m not much for church. Not lately.”

He had stayed away from church services yesterday because he had wanted to make sure he didn’t see her. No, that wasn’t true. He probably would have stayed away just the same. He didn’t feel at ease at a worship service anymore. He couldn’t see where he would ever be the type of man God would want. He had considered going, had gone so far as to ask Aunt Fannie to iron his good shirt and trousers, but in the end, he’d just stuffed them back in the drawer and gone off to the Dover Mall on his scooter. Instead of worship, he’d spent his afternoon feeding tokens into a video game box. His father would have been proud of him…a chip off the old ice block.

“I heard you were rumspringa. I suppose you like English ways.”

“Some. Maybe.”

“I suppose you drink beer,” she accused.

“Ne. I don’t drink alcohol. I never have.” He never understood why anyone would want to drink a substance that made them angry or foolish or made them act as they never would have sober. He looked into Ruth’s warm brown eyes, and for just a second, he saw a flash of compassion.

“I didn’t mean to accuse you,” she said in a gentler voice. “It’s just that I know it goes on. I hear lots of rumspringa boys do.”

“Girls, too,” he admitted. “But not me. When I was eight, my older brother was riding in a car with some guys who were drinking. He was killed in an accident. I never thought it was something I wanted to do.” He swallowed hard. Why had he told her that? He rarely felt comfortable sharing his feelings. It wasn’t something a man did…not something he did.

She stopped and faced him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Her tone was suddenly tender, her voice sweet.

He nodded, too full of emotion to answer for a long moment, then he said, “Free, my brother, was funny, and he used to take me fishing sometimes.”

“It’s hard to lose someone you love.” She started toward home again. “My dat died two years ago. I miss him every day.”

Somehow Eli sensed that everything had changed between them. He was walking beside her, and they weren’t arguing. They were just talking like friends, talking as though he’d known her his whole life.

“My dat died, too, when I was young. I don’t remember much about him, just him laughing and me jumping out of the hayloft into his arms.” He hesitated. “Mam never talked about him much.”

“Did your mother remarry? My aunts are urging Mam to, but I don’t think she’s ready.”

“My stepfather, Joseph, is my father’s second cousin. He married my mother when I was four, but I never thought of him as a father, just Joseph. He already had his own sons. He never liked Free and me much, and he was strict.”

Ruth reached down to pluck a wild daisy from an open space beside the path. She brushed the flower petals over her lips and asked, “Is your mother happy with him? Is he a good man?”

“Joseph is a hard worker. He provides for her.” He shrugged. “I never asked Mam if she was happy. In my family, you don’t talk about private things.”

She nodded. “My dat was different than a lot of men I know. He laughed when he was happy, shouted when he was mad and wasn’t ashamed to shed a tear when our old collie died. He used to talk to us about everything.”

“He must have been a special man. I wish I could have known him,” Eli said. Uncle Roman was the closest he’d ever had to a father figure, and because of the distance, he hadn’t seen too much of him until he’d been invited to live with them and work at the shop. “I think my uncle Roman is a little like that,” he admitted. “It seems like he’s a man who talks.”

“Ya, we all love Roman.” She smiled at him with her eyes. “Roman says you’re talented with your hands. Your stepfather must have taught you woodworking—”

“Ne. My grandfather taught me his trade. I was apprenticed to him after my brother died. Mam had a new baby and I went to live with my grandparents. It was better for Mam that way.” He paused for a second. “Enough talk about me.” Eli’s mood changed swiftly. Their conversation was becoming too intimate, and he wasn’t comfortable. He forced a grin. “Why doesn’t a girl your age have a steady beau?”

“That’s a rude question.”

“I just wondered. I mean, you’re pretty, smart, and I hear you aren’t afraid to make a sharp deal with the English tourists at Spence’s.”

“Miriam talks too much.”

He laughed. “She does talk a lot.” Not three days ago, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t have anything more to do with Ruth Yoder. And here he was, walking her home with an armload of schoolbooks like some grass-green boy too baby-faced to shave. And saying things he’d never said to another girl.

What had made him tell Ruth about Free? He should have gotten over Free’s death a long time ago. Hadn’t his grandfather insisted he had gone to a better place, and only a selfish boy would want him back? But that was hard to accept then and still was now. Somehow, he felt he would never get over losing his brother, and that everything had started to go wrong, not when Dat had walked out, but the night Free had gone out joy-riding and never come back.