3

Sure seemed like Dat was preachin’ at me tonight,” Evan said over his shoulder as Ellie stepped down the porch steps behind him. Then he headed toward the carriage shed.

“Well, he has read all those verses to us before,” she replied, glad she’d followed her brother out of the house as she caught up to him.

“Not one after the other, though.”

He’s right.

“Dat had a lot of things to say to me Saturday evening, too,” Evan said, removing the straw hat he’d snatched off its hook before they left.

“I wondered who he was talkin’ to.”

“So ya heard, then?”

“Only from across the barn. Whatever Dat was sayin’, he sounded intent on makin’ his point.”

Evan sighed as they walked out toward the far south end of the meadow, where he stopped and stared at the sky. It was nearly sunset now, and crickets were already chirping in the underbrush near a grove of trees.

“I know you’re upset, Evan. You’re goin’ through a lot right now. But you can talk to me, like always.”

Evan seemed to contemplate that, then said, “Dat told me to end my friendships with outsiders.”

“Are ya takin’ things further than ya should during Rumschpringe, maybe?”

Evan hesitated a moment before answering. “Well, Dat wants me to hurry an’ get baptized, then settle down with a nice Amish girl.”

“Don’t ya plan to eventually?” Suddenly Ellie remembered what Evan had said about Cheryl Herr, and a shiver ran through her. “What’s so bad ’bout that?”

Evan started walking again. “Think how you’d feel if Dat told ya which of your friends were okay and which weren’t.”

Right then she knew it wouldn’t go over well if she said Dat approved of her friends, not with the mood Evan was in. “Maybe you can sleep on it some more—and pray ’bout it, too. Prayin’ always helps me.” She glanced at him. “Remember what Dawdi Hezekiah likes to say: ‘You’ll be smarter in the mornin’.’”

Evan walked a few more steps before he turned to her. “I wasn’t gonna tell ya what I told Dat, Ellie.” He looked up at the sky again, squinting now, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it at all. “But now, maybe . . .”

“What is it?”

After inhaling slowly, he said, “When I went to the local draft board on my eighteenth birthday, I didn’t register as a conscientious objector.”

Ellie was stunned. “But you could be drafted and sent off to war!”

Evan shrugged. “The chances of my getting a low lottery number are prob’ly slim.”

“Ach, Evan. Won’t ya think more ’bout this? Seems awful risky. I mean, if ya went, you’d be goin’ against everything we believe in as peacemakers.” And you could die in combat, like Jack.

“I’m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn’t have told ya. But if other men are willing to fight against the spread of communism, why shouldn’t I?”

“Ain’t sure I understand, but I’m glad ya told me.”

“Please don’t worry, though.”

How can I not? she thought, sad as they started back to the house.

The days passed, and soon it was Thursday, May seventh—Ascension Day—when all the Amish businesses in Lancaster County closed to commemorate Christ’s return to heaven after His resurrection.

Ellie’s parents and Dawdi Hezekiah had taken time to dress like they were going to Preaching service, then left with Captain, their fastest road horse, hitched to the family carriage to visit relatives in Bird-in-Hand for the day, not far away.

Evan had chosen which special event for the youth he and Ellie should attend and decided on the one at Zeke Mast’s farm on Weavertown Road. Zeke was the bishop’s oldest son, and a barbecue was planned as well as a volleyball tournament. Ellie was glad they didn’t have to ride past the Herr farm on the way. Maybe not having another reminder of Jack would keep her brother’s mood light today.

“You ever gonna tell me who ya like, Ellie?” Evan’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he held the driving lines to Cupcake, the mare Dat bought him three years ago.

“I told ya, I’m not tellin’.” She was a little tired from lying awake last night, still worried over what Evan had revealed to her more than two weeks ago. She really just wanted to pretend that conversation hadn’t happened. It did feel good to see her brother smiling again, though.

“What if I try an’ guess his name?” he teased.

“Nee!”

He chuckled now. “It’s Menno Bontrager, ain’t?”

“Evan!”

He glanced at her, his expression full of mirth. “I guessed, didn’t I?”

Ellie folded her arms and pretended to ignore him.

“C’mon,” Evan said, pressing again. “I’ve told ya who I like.”

She shook her head. “I wish ya hadn’t. It makes no sense to date an Englischer.” Frustrated, she puffed out a breath. She’d prayed that Evan might tire of his penchant for outsiders. “I know at least three Amish girls who’d love to be asked out ridin’ with ya. Why not give one a chance?”

Round the bend, they came up on Onkel Omar’s rambling white clapboard house on the left, set on a wide spread of land with a woodworking shop out back. Ellie looked to see if Aendi Marla was outdoors with their school-age children, but she didn’t see anyone. Maybe they’ve gone visiting, too. The way this ride was going with Evan, she wished she’d gone with her parents and Dawdi Hezekiah.

After what seemed like a long pause, Evan said, “Don’t fret ’bout so many things, Ellie. Who I see doesn’t affect us. We’re twins, so we’ll always be close.”

Ellie sighed. “I care ’bout ya, Evan, and Dat does, too. I know ya like Cheryl, but surely you’re not backing away from the faith.” She paused for a second. “Maybe you could seek out Deacon Lapp if you have questions.”

Evan became quiet, and Ellie felt sure she’d spoiled the rest of their ride together.

———

Immediately after unhitching the mare and leading her to the big water tank with the other horses, Evan took off to play volleyball. Ellie was pleased to discover that Leah had just arrived with her brother Solomon. She and Leah decided to sit with several other girls on the back porch, including the deacon’s niece, seventeen-year-old Arie Ann, and her same-age cousin, Sally. Ellie noted the two girls, both wearing royal blue, were nicely dressed for the occasion. So was Leah, who wore her tan dress and black apron, while Ellie wore her newest plum-colored dress and matching apron.

A folding table placed out on the wide porch held two pitchers of iced meadow tea, drinking glasses, and bowls of popcorn and peeled orange slices.

Ellie glanced around for Cousin Ruthann but didn’t see her on the porch or over playing volleyball. How she wished she’d come, since Sol was there. She guessed her cousin hadn’t bothered to check on his plans like she’d suggested. She’ll be so disappointed when she finds out.

While she and Leah sat with the others, Ellie couldn’t help noticing that her friend wasn’t her usual perky self. Her expression was drawn and serious, and she hardly said a word when spoken to. Is she feeling under the weather?

“Say, Ellie,” Arie Ann said conspiratorially in a lowered voice, “did ya notice who’s here?” The pretty brunette bobbed her head toward the side yard, where both guys and girls were playing volleyball.

Ellie glanced at her. First Evan and now Arie Ann. Does everyone think they know who I like?

“Maybe ya missed seein’ him when he arrived,” Arie Ann added.

“For goodness’ sake.” Leah surprised Ellie by speaking up.

“It’s just us girls,” Sally said. “Who’re ya talkin’ ’bout?”

Ellie held her breath, hoping Arie Ann wouldn’t take the bait. But right then the volleyball came flying onto the porch, and all the girls ducked. Ellie got up and tossed the ball back toward the net, thankful for the distraction.

Leah continued to be so quiet, if not solemn, that Ellie was befuddled. Is she sick, or is it something else? she wondered as she watched her brother leap into the air to spike the ball.

Evan’s team cheered, and Ellie smiled momentarily. But she continued to fret. What’ll happen to my brother if his lottery number is low?

During the ride back from visiting Elisabeth’s older brother Jesse and his family on Leacock Road, near the shoe store, Lyle’s father brought up a niggling topic discussed during their time there.

“So many deaths from the war, all of them unnecessary,” Daed said from the second buggy seat. “Makes me sick to my stomach. I hate to think we’ll never see some young men like Jack Herr round the area again.”

Seated up front next to Lyle, Elisabeth let out a long sigh. “Fighting’s displeasin’ to God. Such a senseless way to meet one’s end.”

“En Sin un e Schand,” Lyle said, agreeing with her.

“A sin and a shame is right,” Daed declared.

Lyle recalled what Jesse had told them during the noon meal. Evidently, the son of his English neighbor had come home from Vietnam seriously wounded, and Lyle had been troubled by Jesse’s description of the helicopter crash that caused the young man’s terrible injuries. He’s fortunate to be alive, he thought as Daed continued to talk about the war.

“Just ain’t right,” Daed was saying. “So many family trees with broken-off branches. Even the young men who do make it home aren’t the same.”

Elisabeth looked over at Lyle. “I don’t wanna be critical, but the military lottery just seems wrong to me. Like gamblin’ with lives . . . as if war itself isn’t bad enough,” she said, a quaver in her voice. “How am I s’posed to feel? How is any parent s’posed to feel? And now that Evan’s told you he didn’t register as a CO, I wonder every day what’s to happen if he gets called up.”

“Ach, love, ya mustn’t stew.” Lyle wanted to reassure her. “We’ll live each day as it comes.”

Elisabeth folded her hands in her lap and stared at them.

Lyle felt guilty for giving her advice he himself found hard to follow. To think that their youngest son—“sweet Evan,” as his mother had called him when he was a child—had seemingly hardened his heart against the Old Ways.

Lyle blamed Rumschpringe as the culprit. Like playing with fire!