Chapter Two

      “I like Eli. He’s so nice,” Annie said later that night.

      Lizzie jerked, her fingers losing their grasp on the tiny rubber band she was using to tie off the end of Annie’s braided hair.

      The little girls had both had their baths and Lizzie was finishing their hair before going to bed. Each child sat on the wooden bench in the kitchen, the gas lamp above the table shining down upon their heads. Their bare feet peeked out from beneath the hems of their simple flannel nightgowns. The air carried a slight fruity smell from the detangler she’d used on their hair to get the snarls out.

      “Eli is nice, but you can’t like him,” Marty said. She tugged the comb through a particularly stubborn knot in her own damp hair.

      “Why not?” Annie asked, her forehead crinkled in a frown.

      “Because he hurt Lizzie’s feelings, that’s why.”

      Both girls turned and looked at Lizzie, as if waiting for a confirmation.

      “Of course you can like him.” Lizzie laughed it off, not wanting to explain how much she’d loved the man and how he’d broken her heart. Everyone in the Gmay had known they’d been going together and planned to marry one day.

      “We can? You’re okay with it?” Marty asked.

      “Ja, it’s not our place to judge,” Lizzie reiterated, trying to believe her own words.

      “But you were gonna get married to him. Emily Hostetler said he left you to become an Englischer instead,” Marty said.

      “You were gonna marry Eli?” Annie asked.

      Lizzie inhaled a sharp breath and held it for several moments before letting it go. Hearing Eli’s betrayal put so bluntly made her mind scatter and she had to regather her thoughts before responding. As he had pointed out, they’d only been fourteen when he’d proposed. Way too young to marry. Because they’d been so young, he hadn’t taken it seriously, but Lizzie had. When he left, they were seventeen and she’d thought they would wed the following year. It’s what they had talked about. But he’d obviously changed his mind—and hadn’t felt the need to tell her.

      “That was a long time ago. It was Eli’s choice to leave. When the time comes, we each must make that decision for ourselves, but I dearly hope both of you will stay.” She placed Annie’s kapp on her head, then hugged the girl tight.

      “I’ll never leave,” Marty said.

      When Lizzie released her, Annie stood, her inquisitive gaze resting on Lizzie. “Is that true, Lizzie-bee? Eli really left you to become Englisch?”

      Lizzie-bee. The nickname Eli had given her when she’d been barely thirteen years old because he thought she was always as busy as a bee. Back then, Lizzie had loved Eli to call her that name. Now, it was a reminder of all that she’d lost.

      “Where did you hear that name?” Lizzie asked a bit too brusquely.

      “It’s what Eli called you when he came into the house to take Fannie home after she bottled our applesauce. You were upstairs,” Annie said.

      Fannie was Eli’s mother and a dear friend. She was as generous as the day was long. It had hurt her deeply when Eli left.

      Lizzie sat very still, looking at her two sisters. Marty had been six when Eli had left, so she undoubtedly remembered him. Annie had been only three. Lizzie didn’t want to discuss what had happened, but neither would she lie. Nor did she have a right to speak ill of Eli.

      “Is it true?” the girl persisted.

      “Ja, it’s true,” she said, tucking an errant strand of hair beneath Annie’s kapp.

      The child’s eyes crinkled with sadness. “But everyone loves you. Why would Eli leave?”

      She said the words as if she couldn’t understand why Eli couldn’t love her too.

      “He...he wanted other things, that’s all,” Lizzie said.

      “Did he hurt your feelings when he left?” Annie persisted.

      “Of course he did.” Marty flipped her long hair over her shoulder.

      “Ja, he did,” Lizzie admitted. She didn’t look at the girls as she parted Marty’s tresses and quickly began to braid the lengthy strands. Perhaps it was good for her sisters to learn early that a man could break your heart.

      “But he’s back now. You don’t need to have hurt feelings anymore. You can forgive him and all will be well. Maybe he’ll even want to still marry you now,” Annie said.

      If only it were that simple. Right now, Lizzie didn’t want to marry Eli. And she certainly couldn’t believe Eli wanted to marry her—not after the way he’d abandoned her. But sweet little Annie had always had such a calm, quiet spirit. Honest and trusting, the girl always exemplified a childlike faith in the good of others. Lizzie never wanted to see that faith shattered. But more than that, Lizzie had to set a good example for her sisters. With Mamm gone, they deserved to feel safe and loved. They were both looking to her for guidance and she didn’t want to let them down.

      “The Lord wants us to forgive everyone. We should never judge others, because we don’t know what’s truly in their heart or what their circumstances are. Plus we each have our own faults to repent from,” Lizzie spoke in a measured tone, believing what she said, though she still struggled to apply it to Eli.

      Annie nudged Marty with her elbow. “See? I told ya so.”

      Marty accepted this without question and Lizzie breathed with relief. She quickly finished her chore. Upstairs, she tucked the girls into bed, feeling like a hypocrite. She told her sisters to forgive, yet she hadn’t done so herself. But honestly, she didn’t know how. Saying and doing it were two different things. Forgiveness wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Especially when she’d been hurt so badly.

      She secured the house for the night and turned out the kerosene lights. Alone in her room, she prayed for help, but received no answers. Lying in the darkness, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but her mind kept racing. If Eli hadn’t left, they’d likely be married now. They would probably have one or two children too. How different their lives might have been. They could have been happy and in love and working for the good of their familye. Instead, she felt disillusioned and distrustful. But it did no good to dwell on such things. It would not change the present. Her familye needed her and that was enough.

      Punching her pillow, she turned on her side and closed her eyes, gritty with fatigue. She tried to rest, but it was a long time coming.

      In the morning, she felt drowsy and grouchy. Determined not to be cross with the girls, she kissed each one on the forehead to wake them up. She ensured they were dressed and sitting at the table eating a bowl of scrapple—a mixture of corn meal, sausage and eggs—before she lit the kerosene lamp and stepped out onto the back porch.

      Crisp darkness filled the air as she crossed the yard. The chilling breeze hinted that winter was not far away. In the waning shadows, she tossed grain to the chickens, then gathered the eggs into a wire basket. When she went to feed the pigs, she found the chore already done, the trough filled with fresh water.

      Oh, no. This could only mean one thing.

      Turning,