CHAPTER
6

Leona finished up afternoon chores early so she could visit Gloria before sundown. She hoped Arkansas Joe and the brethren had come to some agreement by now.

Drawing her neck scarf closer, Leona was glad she’d taken time to put on the new black sweater she wore under her jacket. A scant few red and orange leaves still clung to branches along the roadside, and Leona already missed the full splendor of fall—“a brilliant portal leading us to winter,” Gloria’s mother had once described it, inspired by a poetry book she’d gotten from the library.

Leona and Gloria also shared a love of poetry, frequently reading aloud verses for any season or frame of mind. Leona preferred the lighthearted rhyming verses that painted rich descriptions with only a handful of words. Yet for all the girls’ love of poetry, neither of them wrote it. Leona preferred to make things using items found in nature—thistles, brushwood, and other bits and pieces from the forest floor—to fashion one-of-a-kind wreaths to sell at Mamma’s market stand.

While Gloria seemed to enjoy helping Leona with the wreaths, it wasn’t something she chose to do without her friend. In her free time, Gloria made homemade cards and wrote notes and letters, sending them to encourage sick folk and to celebrate birthdays. On occasion, she would even send an anonymous one to other youth in the church who needed a little pick-me-up.

“Gott helps you create things with your hands,” she would tell Leona, “and I write what He prompts me to share with others.”

For sure and for certain, Gloria had a gift for spreading joy around the community, and the People appreciated it. Leona just wished she could do the same for her friend during this difficult time.

The red sun was dropping fast as Leona hurried to Gloria’s. To think that same sun had nearly burnt her eyes this morning as she waited for her ride to Maggie’s store near Bartville.

Especially this time of year, it seemed remarkable how, in the space of a few hours, the sky could go from blindingly bright to so dim you needed a flashlight before the evening meal was even on the table. Even so, Leona knew the way to Gingeriches’ as well as she knew her own family’s land, and she could hardly wait to see the frosty-white paths the snow would make in the hollow of the forest come next month. The little red bittersweet berries she enjoyed gathering with Gloria would show up more easily against the wintery landscape. It was right pleasant walking along the perimeter of the trees in that coldest season; better than in early spring, when mud pulled at her boots.

She made her way into the familiar lane and glanced at the house. All seemed quiet. Too quiet, really. Making her way around to the back door, she jiggled the doorknob, which often stuck.

Locked.

They never bolt the doors, she thought, dread beginning to pound through her veins.

She saw the family carriage parked where it should be, and the market wagon and pony cart, too. The sight gave her a bit of peace, but it didn’t explain the unnatural silence.

Peering in through the back door window, Leona noticed that the row of wall pegs for jackets was bare, as was the area beneath, where the family lined up shoes and boots.

“They’ve left,” she whispered, shocked. Just like that . . .

She heard Brownie barking from the stable and saw him coming, tail wagging. Gloria liked to pretend he was their watchdog, but as friendly as the dog was, Leona had a hard time thinking of Brownie attacking anyone.

“Hey, boy,” she called as he came to her. She rubbed behind his ears as he leaned his head hard against her, whining. “Are ya glad to see me?” Then her hand brushed against his collar—something was attached. She loosened the white paper next to his dog tag and held up her flashlight to see a scribbled note in Gloria’s handwriting.

Dearest friend,

Brownie’s yours now.

Good-bye till we meet again.

Your sister for always,

Gloria Gingerich

The note fluttered from her hand. Leona leaned down to reach for the beautiful dog, wrapping her arms around Brownie and sobbing.

There was nothing else to do but head home with Gloria’s dear pet at her side. Such a sinking, sad feeling Leona had never known.