CHAPTER
35

Nearing her father’s house, Leona gasped—the light was still on in the spare room, lantern light visible around the edges of the window shades.

“Are you all right?” Tom asked.

“Gloria’s still up. Should I tell her where I’ve been?”

“Tell her the truth. Gloria’s gotta know how unusual it is for someone like her to come back to visit her former church district.”

“You’re right,” Leona agreed. “I just hoped she might be asleep by now.”

“Are ya worried your talk with my father might throw a wrench in your plans?”

“Hard to know. She might think I overstepped.”

Tom stopped walking again. “I hope you’re not tiptoeing on eggshells, nervous that something you say will offend her. Convincing her to return to the Amish ways is ultimately a job for the Lord alone.”

She grimaced. “I know you’re right.”

“You’re trying very hard to help Gott out . . . maybe too hard.”

Lowering her head, she sighed. “I understand what you’re sayin’.” Tom knows me so well.

“Sleep peacefully.” He took both her hands in his. “And no frettin’, jah?”

She promised, glad he’d been honest with her.

Tom walked her to the back steps and waited till she was in the house. When she turned, she saw him headed back across the field, his straw hat glinting like a halo in the light of the moon.

———

Tom counted his blessings as he walked home, Leona amongst the most treasured. Had he ever felt life was going along this well? Truly, he was mighty thankful.

The thought, however, of his best friend having coffee with Gloria Gingerich disturbed him more than he’d let on to Leona. He sincerely felt sorry for Orchard John, who’d never been able to get Gloria out of his mind . . . or heart. But if Gloria had no intention of joining their church, John could be setting himself up for further heartache.

Or unnecessary temptation.

It was odd, really, how closely linked the four of them were—as cousins and friends. And would-be sweethearts.

He contemplated John’s enduring affection for Gloria, and Leona’s for Gloria. Both Leona and her cousin cared deeply about Gloria, and it was a concern.

What happens when she returns home? Tom thought.

Yet, looking up at the heavens, he scolded himself. With God, all things are possible.

Gloria was sleeping soundly when Leona peeked in on her, a couple of pages of Mamma’s best stationery and a pen beside her on the quilt. She reached down to remove the ballpoint pen and placed it on the dresser, then outened the lantern, which had spread its cheerful glow. She hoped Gloria might have a peaceful rest, although she couldn’t help wondering how things had gone with Orchard John.

Closing the door, except for a crack, Leona wandered to her own room, feeling very much like her friend’s guardian.

She opened the middle dresser drawer and removed a clean nightgown. It was soft pink in color and had two tiny decorative buttons at the neck opening—her one and only slightly fancy nightdress.

Leona pulled back the sheet and quilt and then put out the gas lamp Mamma had surely lit for her. She knelt beside her bed, her particular habit, and folded her hands to offer the request she’d made a hundred times or more. Yet she believed that the Lord God and heavenly Father knew Gloria’s heart—saw her worries and fears—and cared for her enough to want to see her where she belonged. For this night, that was enough to bring Leona serenity.

Around midnight, Gloria’s phone dinged loudly, signaling a text. Squinting at it—having abandoned her earlier plan to go unplugged—she read her father’s text. When are you heading back?

Dad, she typed back, I just got here.

Leona’s home now, so why are you still there?

She suspected she shouldn’t tell him all that was really on her mind.

Her father texted back before she did: Don’t ruin your chance with Darren!

Was that all this was about? That’s MY concern. Good night, Dad.

Her father’s texts ceased, and she felt a sense of relief, unable to handle more of the same.

Then, just as she was about to click off, another text appeared. I fear you’re being brainwashed.

It was futile to try to make her point any longer. Gloria deleted the text thread, turned off her phone, and stuffed it under the pillow next to her.

Then, in the darkened room, she realized someone had turned off the lantern after she’d fallen asleep.

Dear, thoughtful Leona.

Early the next morning, after Leona and Gloria had helped clean the house, Gloria offered to work with her to make another wreath or two for market.

“You’ve already done enough,” Leona insisted while they beat throw rugs in the side yard with brooms, lapping them over the clothesline to make the task easier.

“I want to pull my weight.”

“But you didn’t come here to work, jah?” Leona said, reminding her that she’d planned to take time to walk in the countryside and to pray about her future with Darren.

“True, and I will do that.” Gloria nodded. “I also wrote a long letter to my grandmother last night while you were gone.”

Leona was surprised.

“I just figured it’s time she heard from me, so we can get to know each other before she passes away—not that it will be anytime soon.”

She’s really changing . . . connecting with people again, Leona thought as Gloria described what she remembered of her grandmother. It was clear that writing to her grandmother had revealed things about Gloria’s struggles and priorities.

“Sounds like the letter you wrote to her helped you.”

“It’s not the first time that’s happened.” Gloria began to explain that the first year after moving away from Lancaster County, she’d kept a daily journal. “And all the while I wrote, I pretended I was talking to you, Leona . . . sharing my sadness and pent-up anger and everything in my mind and heart, whatever came pouring out onto the pages. It was one way I managed to cope, missing you and our close friendship.”

Leona teared up, hearing this. “Aw, that’s really sweet.”

“Well, some of it wasn’t, let me tell you. My journaling gave me an outlet to vent my frustration, and I wrote as fast as I could some days. Other times, there was a sense of peace as I began to fit in with the new community of the People there. Either way, I tried to get my emotions down on the page, lest they burst forth elsewhere.” Gloria flung the next rug over the clothesline and began to slap it with her broom.

Leona waited till she was finished before speaking. “I thought I was alone with my loss when ya left. Strange as this might sound, it helps to know you were going through some of what I experienced.” She choked back her tears. “To think, all the months I waited for your letters, you were actually thinkin’ of me.”

Gloria reached for her, rug and all, and their brooms toppled to the ground as their tears fell freely.

Tom waved down Orchard John on his way to work early that morning after dropping Danny off at the smithy’s. He’d stopped in for coffee at one of the shops along his route and was sitting in the spring wagon when he saw John walking toward his open black buggy, a large cup in his hand. “Hullo!” he called to his friend.

“Wie geht’s, Tom?” Orchard John came over and stood near his wagon.

“The question is, how are you . . . after your visit with Gloria?” Tom asked.

John chuckled. “Well, that meddlesome grapevine ’tis faster than the speed of sound.”

Tom said he’d heard it from Leona. “I’m not gonna lose my gut pal to the world, I hope.” He tried to inject a humorous tone.

John waved his hand at Tom’s nonsense, not cracking a smile. A moment passed as he stared at his coffee cup. “Confidentially speaking . . . it’s been difficult over the years for me to imagine myself with anyone but Gloria. I’ve considered it many times.”

Hearing this, Tom felt justified in his concern that her being back in town might pose a setback for his friend.

John drank some of his coffee, still sandwiched between Tom’s spring wagon and the car next to him. “I’ll be right frank with ya. I plan to keep prayin’ for her, and, ya know, hoping she . . .” John’s voice broke off, and he looked down again.

He’s definitely in too deep. Tom wished there was a way to reel him back to land before he went plunging over the dam. “You put your toe in the water, and next thing, you’ll be drownin’.”

“I understand why you’re worried.”

“You’d say the same if the shoes were on my feet.” Tom studied him. “You know ya would.”

Meeting his gaze, Orchard John nodded. “True . . . and I’m doin’ my best to appreciate it.” He turned to go and untie his mare at the hitching post. “Have a gut day, Tom!”

“You too.” Waving, Tom smiled, but all the rest of the drive to work, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Orchard John was already in over his head.

Once the rugs were carried indoors and put back in their rightful locations, Gloria insisted on helping make some wreaths, so they went to the screened-in porch and began to sort the materials Gloria had already gathered.

“I don’t know if your mother said anything to you, but she mentioned I was welcome to stay around for Preaching,” Gloria said. “What would you think?”

“Are you kidding?” Leona loved this. “I think your parents might have something to say about that, though. And what about your job at the diner?”

“I’ll figure it out. I need to call Hampton and let him know I’ll be back soon.”

Leona fretted a bit, wondering if Gloria’s employment might be in jeopardy.

“Well, if I do stay for church, can you loan me one of your dresses? I wouldn’t want to needlessly offend anyone.”

“Of course! The sleeves might be a little short, since you’re taller.” Leona grinned. She was relieved and more than a little excited about possibly seeing Gloria dressed Plain again.

“Also, your mother said you saw the deacon last evening,” Gloria said as she put glue on several dried berries, which she then affixed to the wreath.

“I thought he should know directly from me that you’re stayin’ with us.” She hoped Gloria wouldn’t press for more details, and began to tie a bow for the bottom of the wreath.

“Don’t wanna be a nuisance.”

“How could that be?”

“To be honest, my father’s shunning, and the reasons behind it, are so embarrassing to me, Leona. Absolutely humiliating.”

“You can’t carry that around forever,” she said softly, stopping her work to reach to touch Gloria. “Ain’t yours to bear.”

“But it’s there all the same.”

Leona wished she could snap her fingers and free her friend of the nagging guilt. The pride . . .

And as they worked, she thanked God for Gloria’s interest in staying for Sunday. It was another step forward—the biggest, of course, was driving here in the first place.