The Photograph (9 page)

Why would a devout girl have
her picture taken?

He turned the photograph over and saw penned on the back:
The best and worst day of
my life.

Still more curious, Jed returned the picture to its place between the pages and scanned through the book, quickly noting that the story was focused on four young sisters growing up in New England during the time of the Civil War.

Definitely not my choice of reading material!

Yet, while paging through the book, he came across many notes penciled in the margin—the note writer's own thoughts about family and grief and death, as well as a few tender words about romance and love.

There were also underlined passages, such as
“You are like a chestnut
burr, prickly outside, but silky-soft within, and a sweet
kernel, if one can only get at it. Love will
make you show your heart some day, and then the
rough burr will fall off.”

Jed smiled and wondered if the book's owner had been thinking of someone in particular. Certainly he had known a few people who could fit that description!

Two hours later, when the train slowed and then came to a stop in Pittsburgh, a number of passengers got off. By now, Jed had already breezed through a good portion of the book's margin notes and underlined passages, glancing now and then at the photograph to put the words and the note writer together in his mind.

The new passengers boarded and rustled about, taking their places and making conversation with seatmates. Once again no
one occupied the seat next to him, leaving him alone for the duration of the journey, but this time the prospect pleased Jed.

He returned to the pages, captivated by the girl's thoughts, sensing a growing connection to her, at times moved by her delicate honesty.

He closed the book, recalling how quickly he and Lydiann had bonded, how rapidly he had known she was the girl for him.
Almost
immediately.
That sort of connection came once in a lifetime, or so he presumed. He leaned back in his seat, allowing a gentle sadness to wash over him.

Whatever he'd had with Lydiann was gone forever. There was no point in wishing for it again.

T
WO
DAYS
HAD
PASSED
since the unthinkable had happened. In the meantime, Eva and Frona, and their brothers, too, tried to make the best of it. Menno and Rufus had taken it upon themselves to cover nearly all of Eden Valley, the areas beyond Eva's Saturday search, but to no avail. It seemed no one had heard from Lily.

This morning Eva had written in her diary, hoping Lily might simply walk in the door at any moment, having changed her mind.
“I'm sorry I worried you,”
she might say, and whatever agony they'd all felt would be drowned out by sheer relief.

Presently, Eva and Frona were having a dinner of baked chicken and rice, taking their time to plan the week, since they'd gotten the Monday washing hung out much earlier.

Eva suggested, “We might take your tasty jams and my specialty candies down to the Quarryville market come Thursday. What do ya say?” Eva was certain going to market might distract them for a while, at least, from their mutual woes. And, too, perhaps someone might know something about Lily farther south of them.

Frona nodded. “Fine with me.” She looked up from her meal. “Word has it a lot of people are comin' into the area for an auction.”

“Farm or cattle sale?”

“It's an estate auction takin' place two farms down from the Byler carriage shop,” Frona informed her.

“Is that right?”

“Should be quite the all-day event, what with not only the house and everything in it being auctioned off, but the barn equipment and the animals, too.”

Eva listened and hoped they might have time to attend.

“I also heard that Jonas Byler may retire come this fall,” Frona said. “Might leave a hole in the buggy-making business round here.”

Eva wondered how that would be for the highly sought after buggy maker, respected all over Lancaster County. Was Jonas Byler looking forward to the change? “It's hard to hear of older folks having to give up what they've loved doing so long.”

“We don't know if it's for his health's sake.” Frona reached for the butter dish, a homemade biscuit in her other hand.

“Might just be,” Eva said, realizing how much less laundry there had been today. Goodness, but it seemed Lily had nearly as many dresses and aprons as both Eva and Frona combined.
There's something about the
sharp smell of our homemade soap that Lily loves,
Eva thought sadly.

In spite of what they did to keep themselves occupied, Lily was in the background of Eva's every thought.

They finished the meal without saying much more to each other, and when dessert was served, Eva made over Frona's chocolate macaroons, still deliciously soft.

“Lily's favorite,” Frona remarked. “I'd be willin' to make them every day if she'd just return,” she added.

“Maybe she's missing us and already thinkin' of starting home.”

Frona nodded slowly, like she wasn't so sure.

Eva reached for another cookie. Not that it helped anything, but the sweet taste couldn't hurt.

———

Later, while she and Frona were redding up the kitchen, Eva mentioned an upcoming work frolic. The deacon had invited all the young men and women in the church district to help clean up the schoolhouse. “Would ya like to go with me?” she asked. “There'll likely be some nice young men there.”

“What on earth. Who are ya thinkin' of—me or you?”

“It's been a while.”

“
Puh!
” Frona muttered, the dishes clattering. Another moment passed. “When is it?”

“About two weeks away.”

Frona's eyes instantly looked more gray than blue. She stopped washing the dish in her hand and frowned. “You must still be thinking 'bout Menno's announcement.”

“His
what
?”

“Well, what would you call it?” Frona said.

Eva shrugged.
She's so
dramatic. . . .

“Well, you were here when he laid it all out.” Frona resumed washing the dishes. “I'm thinkin' of going to see him after the clothes are brought in and folded.”

“To try an' change his mind?”

“Give him a piece of mine, maybe.”

“Oh dear.”

“It can't hurt, can it?”

Sure might,
Eva thought. She wished Frona would forget about arguing with Menno. What she really wanted was for Frona to commit to going to the work frolic at the schoolhouse. It would get their mind off things. She brought it up again.

“I'll have to think on it.” The evasive answer gave Eva little hope of Frona's agreeing.

She knew better than to push too hard with this sister.

Jed was met at the Lancaster train depot that afternoon by Jonas's grandnephew Wallie Byler, who introduced Jed to the short, dark-haired driver, Neil Zimmerman. “It's
gut
of you to come,” Jed told them as Neil turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the parking space. A small orange cat with a cheesy grin swung from the rearview mirror—a character Jed had seen once or twice in a cartoon strip.

“Wouldn't have it any other way,” Wallie said right next to Jed in the second row.

They made small talk about the weather and tomorrow's auction near Quarryville. During a lull in conversation, Neil switched on the radio and Jed was shocked to hear the news from faraway South Korea—an uprising was following what a reporter called “a massacre” in Gwangju. “These protests against martial law are the necessary crucible of a grassroots movement to overturn a repressive regime,” the reporter said. “More than two hundred students died for freedom.”

Wallie glanced at Jed and shook his head. “If folks could just get along, what a better world this would be.”

So tragic.
Hearing of such mayhem made Jed all the more grateful he had not had to take part in any wars, even to serve overseas as a noncombatant like some of his male relatives had during the war in Vietnam.

Neil turned down the volume and asked if Jed and Wallie wanted to get a quick bite to eat. They were definitely in agreement, and Neil made the turn into a fast-food place.

“It's nearly suppertime round here,” Wallie said with a tug on
his black suspenders. His light hair showed a distinct dent from his straw hat, which he must have worn earlier. “Did ya have anything to eat on the trip?”

Jed nodded. “My youngest sister sent along ham sandwiches, but I sure could go for a cheeseburger now.”

Right quick, Wallie pulled out his wallet while they waited in line at the drive-through. “Uncle Jonas insisted on treating.”

“
Ach
, can't let him do that.” Jed reached into his pocket.

“
Nee
, better let him have the last word on this, or I'll be in hot water.” Wallie laughed. “If you don't know what I mean, you will shortly.”

Jed looked forward to meeting Jonas Byler. “Will either of yous be goin' to the neighbors' estate auction, then?” he asked.

“Bright an' early. But I'm just goin' for the food.”

Jed chuckled.

Wallie went on to talk about his big dairy operation near Gap. “But I'm happy to help Uncle Jonas out
 . . .
and glad to meet you, too.”

When they picked up their burgers and fries and the chocolate milkshakes Wallie had ordered, they headed south on Route 272 toward Quarryville.

They stopped for additional Amish passengers near an area known as Willow Street, including one younger couple who seemed taken with each other.
Plainly in
love.
Jed thought again of the book he'd found on the train, and it crossed his mind: What if he could meet the note writer, the pretty girl in the photograph?

It was a crazy idea.
Besides,
he realized,
whoever wrote in the book might be mortified to know
someone else is privy to her thoughts.

Away from curious and judgmental eyes, he would look again at the forbidden photo later. Maybe he'd missed something about
the young woman.
Maybe someone around Quarryville might recognize her
 . . .
if she
's from that area.

He shook his head at the fanciful notion. He couldn't bear to put such a thoughtful soul at risk by showing the picture around, even if it meant he might find her.

J
ONAS
B
YLER
'
S
HANDSHAKE
was unexpectedly vigorous for as spindly as he looked—a tall, tanned man in his late seventies. Jonas graciously greeted Jed, then motioned for his wife to come over. “This here's Jedediah from Berlin, Ohio—Ervin Stutzman's nephew, ya know.” Jonas introduced him to Elsie before pointing the way into the light and airy kitchen.

Austere in its simplicity, the kitchen reminded Jed of his paternal grandmother's with its low windows along the south side of the room and a considerable freestanding pine hutch, yellowed with age.

“
Willkumm
,” Elsie said, her black apron a menu of baking projects—splotches of flour and something sticky, like jam.

“I appreciate your hospitality.”

“We hope you'll feel free to stay as long as you'd like.” Elsie grinned at Jed and gestured for Jonas to take him upstairs to the spare room. “There's a washroom just down the hallway up there,” she added. “We're tryin' to keep up with the times, I guess you could say.” She laughed a nervous little laugh.

Jed was surprised she felt it necessary to excuse the indoor plumbing. His parents' home had been updated that way back in the mid-fifties.
Before I was
born.

“We'll have a later supper than usual,” Elsie called again up the stairs. “Chust take your time getting settled.”

Jed didn't have the heart to say he'd wolfed down a hamburger and fries on the way there.

Leading the way, Jonas opened the door to Jed's room. “My son and family are comin' for the meal tonight—Mose and Bekah and their two youngest daughters
 . . .
both courtin' age.” Jonas winked slyly.

Keeping his smile in check, Jed assumed Uncle Ervin must have put a bug in Jonas's ear.
Could be interesting,
he thought and quickly unpacked, then went to freshen up. Strubblich
hair will never do for this meal!

When Sylvia Lantz stepped into The Sweet Tooth around closing time at four o'clock, Eva smiled. “Happy to see ya,” she said, going around the counter to greet her neighbor.

“Came to bring some cheer.” Sylvia was all dressed up in a pretty black cape dress and matching apron and wearing her crisp white
Kapp
.

“You couldn't have arrived at a better time.” Eva went to the display case and removed the last two bonbons, setting them in a bowl. “Let's go over and sit in the kitchen and have ourselves a little taste of chocolate.”

Sylvia was quick to agree, and as they walked through the hall and into the main house, she mentioned receiving a letter from her daughter Tilly Barrows, who lived in Rockport, Massachusetts, with her family. As a youth, Tilly had decided against joining church and had eventually married an outsider
after moving to the English world. She and her husband, Kris, had three children—nearly seven-year-old identical twin daughters, Jenya and Tavani, and eighteen-month-old Mel, named for Tilly's brother, Melvin Lantz.

“Will they be comin' for another visit?” Eva hoped so for Sylvia's sake.

“As soon as the twins are out of school for the summer.” Sylvia opened the letter once they'd seated themselves at the kitchen table. “Just thought I'd read a little bit of it to you. All right?”

Eva was glad Frona was upstairs—she could hear the footsteps overhead. For her own part, she was all for listening to Tilly's letter, as she'd always liked Sylvia, possibly because Mamma had thought so highly of her.

“I won't tire you with everything Tilly wrote,” Sylvia said as she scanned through the lines. “Ah, here we are.”

She began to read aloud.

“Our twins have learned to make beautiful little quilting stitches, Mamma—isn't that such happy news? And they can say simple words and phrases in Deitsch, even though they haven't grown up with the People, as I did. Seems that Ruth and I let that slip into our conversation more than we know! I thought it might be an encouragement to you and Dat, hearing that some of the Plain culture has found its way to your English grandchildren.”

Sylvia looked up from the letter, tears threatening. “Oh, Eva, isn't this the dearest thing? Like a melody to my heart.”

Eva hardly knew what to say. Was Sylvia trying to offer her some hope about Lily? But it wasn't hope really; it seemed more like giving Lily up to the world and being satisfied with a letter or two.

“I never dreamed I'd get such letters from our Tilly, tellin' the truth.”

Eva knew that Tilly and her younger sister, Ruth, had nearly broken Sylvia's and Lester's hearts. But seeing Sylvia's response to this letter, Eva sensed Sylvia had made peace with losing her dear children to the outside world
.
Perhaps the years had washed away the worst of the pain.

“Sometimes I wish they'd all relocate to Eden Valley so I could get my fill of seein' them and my grandchildren.”

“Ain't likely they'd become Amish, is it?” Eva asked, knowing her own mother had posed the same question to Sylvia after Tilly and Ruth left the People. Against her husband's advice, Sylvia had clung to that hope, even though she'd confided in Eva's mother that she knew in her heart that Tilly and her family would never think of such a move.

“
Nee
, not likely, though I'd like nothing more.” Sylvia dried her eyes with a hankie from her pocket. “A mother's heart is never far from her children.”

When Frona came downstairs, Eva offered some of her chocolate macaroons to Sylvia, which brought smiles all around. “I do believe I've had my fill of sweets for the week,” Sylvia said, thanking them.

Later, Eva walked with her to the end of the lane, aware of the pungent smell of manure in the air. “I'm glad you stopped in.” She paused.

“If I know you, you're prayin' for Lily.” Sylvia gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Dottie raised you well.”

Standing in the road, Eva watched her mother's friend head back down the road, Sylvia's black dress swirling around her bare ankles.

She wondered what had motivated Tilly to leave her family behind and strike out into unfamiliar territory.
Was it frightening for her at first? Or
an adventure?

Thinking again of Lily, she trembled.
Oh, write
to me, sister, please write soon!

Jed was seated to the left of Mose Byler at the long table that evening, with Mose's wife, Bekah, and their daughters Lovina and Orpha across from Jed.
To encourage conversation, no doubt
,
he thought.

Elsie sat to the right of Jonas, who presided at the head of the table. She passed the food first to her husband, and then the platters went to the men—pork chops with mashed potatoes and gravy, baked beans, and corn pudding.

Jonas and his son Mose talked for a while, but it wasn't long before Jed, too, was drawn into the conversation. He was mindful of the bashful though pretty blond girls across the table. Orpha, who said she was nineteen, and Lovina, twenty-one, glanced up from their plates every so often. Mose helped things along, mentioning that both young women would be at the auction tomorrow.

“They're helping with the food,” Jonas interjected, leaning forward to catch Jed's eye. “
Wunnerbaar-gut
cooking.”

“Home cooking's best,” Jed replied, smiling back at Orpha, who seemed the more outgoing of the two. “What type of food?”

Orpha replied, “Oh, nearly whatever you have a hankerin' for. Delicious soups: ham and bean, ya know, and chicken corn soup, too. There'll be ham and cheese sandwiches, hot dogs, barbecue, whoopie pies, cream-filled doughnuts, homemade ice cream, and all kinds of pies, including banana cream.”

“My mouth's watering already.”

“
Des gut,
” Orpha replied, glancing curiously at Lovina.

“Ever been to an auction round here?” Mose Byler asked, eyes intent.

“This is my first visit to the area.”

“And you're enjoying working in Ohio with my mother's cousin Ervin Stutzman?” Mose said.

“So far, I'm just an apprentice.”

Orpha glanced at Elsie, then at her mother. “That's the best way to start, ain't so?” she said at last.

Jed nodded, smiling back at her. S
he's coming out of her shell
.

When it was time for dessert, Elsie's strawberry pie got calls for seconds from Jonas and Mose, but considering Jed's full stomach, he respectfully declined.

Later, Jed found himself alone with Orpha and sitting on the back porch. They weren't by themselves for long. Lovina and her mother wandered outside a few minutes later, heading around the walkway to visit Elsie's older sister living in the
Dawdi
Haus
. Then, not so long after, Mose and Jonas appeared and pretended not to see Jed and Orpha there as they made their way over to the carriage shop, full of talk.

When it was just the two of them again, Jed commented on the peacefulness of the hilly countryside around his native Berlin farmland, and Orpha was quick to say how nice it was right there in rural Quarryville. They talked about hobbies and favorite activities—he surmised volleyball was the one commonality between them. The longer they visited, the more he missed the easy style of conversation he'd enjoyed with Lydiann. He wanted to be companionable to Orpha, but everything he said came out awkward and stilted.

Am I trying too hard?

Later, when Mose and Bekah and their daughters left for home, he was invited to join Jonas and Elsie for their Bible reading in the front room. Thankful for this quiet and reflective time, Jed asked again for the Lord's guidance, as he did every night during the prayer time.

When he'd said good-night, Jed headed upstairs, where he spotted
Little Women
on the table near the bed. He hesitated for a moment, feeling more than a little silly as he finally gave in to his whim and turned to the page where he'd left off, marked by the photograph.

Another neatly printed note ran down the side of the page:
How will I know when I
find true love?

Jed closed the book. If he hadn't met Lydiann, he might have wondered this himself. Lydiann hadn't just been his “true love.” She herself had been
true
, a young woman of the highest character and noble intention, earnest to do God's will.

That's
true love,
he thought.

Looking at the photo once more, Jed knew the owner was obviously living too close to the world. It wasn't uncommon for restless Amish girls in
Rumschpringe
to follow their boyfriends right out of the community.

He studied the woman's eyes in the picture. They were kind and bright, but something was amiss.

Again he deliberated the notion of searching for this young woman, who despite her struggles with the ordinance, had written such poignant thoughts about life. By the looks of the delicate
Kapp
, surely the girl lived somewhere in Lancaster County.