The Photograph (18 page)

“Well, I open later on Mondays to help with the washing. If ya stop in after the noon meal, that'd be best.”

“Fewer customers then?”

“Possibly.” She couldn't help but smile.

“Do you have a Closed sign?” He winked at her.

She blushed. “I do, actually.”

“So maybe we could slip away for another walk.”

She liked the idea. Then, second-guessing it, she said, “Honestly, it might be better to stay put in the shop to visit.”'

He seemed to acquiesce. “I don't want to leave without sayin' so long, ya know?”

She encouraged him to come by The Sweet Tooth around twelve-thirty, after dishes were done.

“Will it be all right with Frona?” he asked.

“I don't plan to tell her,” Eva replied with a little laugh. “Hopefully, if anyone spots you, they'll assume you're there to purchase sweets.”

One last visit with Jed
 . . .

T
HE
WONDERFUL
SMELL
OF
BREAD
DOUGH
filled the kitchen as Eva made her way down the cellar steps on washday morning. Frona was fretting about coming that close to getting her fingers stuck in the wringer. “
Ach
, I'm glad ya didn't!” Eva said, hurrying to help lift the heavy, wet clothes out of the washer and carefully feeding them through the wringer with her sister's assistance.

Later, once the first load was out on the line and they'd loaded the second batch, they stopped to have a cup of tea. And after the breakfast dishes were washed and put away, Eva rushed to the mailbox and found a letter from Alfred Dienner. Truth be known, she wasn't very excited to hear from him, especially since meeting Jed.

Nevertheless, she slipped away to her room to read Alfred's letter.

Dear Eva,

How are you? Are you keeping busy with your candy making and your customers?

I've been doing quite a lot in the woodworking shop here, more than I realized would be necessary. That's why I haven't written sooner, even though I do think of you every day.

Have you given any thought to our last conversation? Ach, I sometimes wish I could hear your voice. Maybe I'll call you at the phone shanty sometime, even though it might be frowned on if we talk too often that way.

There are some fine places to eat here in Wisconsin, but I haven't found a shoofly pie like my Mamm's. I will say, though, that the cheese is very tasty!

As for learning the woodworking trade, I enjoy the creativity involved more than I ever expected.

Alfred's letter continued by describing some of the folks he'd met since first arriving there, and even though he seemed happy enough, sharing his activities with her, Eva could tell he must be homesick. It was odd, because she didn't know how she should think about Alfred, uncertain how her new friendship with Jed Stutzman would play out once he returned to Ohio.

It's unusual to have the
attention of two young men at the same time, and
for both to be out of state,
she thought as she pushed Alfred's letter into her dresser drawer.

Two buggies rolled into the driveway, and she figured they were candy customers. Happily, she hurried downstairs and into The Sweet Tooth just as they pulled into the parking spaces.

As planned, Naomi stopped at Ida Mae's after the washing was on the line. She'd noticed Frona and Eva outdoors exceptionally early getting theirs up, too. Not that she was in competition, but her neighbor to the west certainly made a valiant attempt to be first on
Weschdaag
mornings. After years of this nonsense,
Naomi just let her win. What was the point? She'd once told this to Abner, who'd chortled.

“Your father went to see Bishop Isaac first thing today,” Naomi informed Ida Mae on their ride to the General Store for sewing notions. “I know you'll keep it to yourself, but it was 'bout Lily Esch's possible whereabouts in Ohio. He's mighty worried, as are the Esch boys.”

Ida Mae gasped. “Lily's made it all the way there?”

“Evidently, there's a young fella involved
 . . .
an
Englischer
.”

“Lily's always been such a
gut
girl. What's gotten into her?”

Naomi nodded. “Poor thing, losing her mother threw her, I gather. We all know Dottie raised her girls right.”

“
Ach
, Dottie would weep if she knew.”

Naomi tried to relax her grip on the reins. “Have ya thought any more 'bout traveling to Paradise with me the end of this week to help with some sewin' for your second cousin?”

“Poor Connie must be really bad off if she can't even hold a needle.”

“She can't thread one either, her wrist's so painful,” Naomi added.

“Honestly, I don't see why she doesn't have it put in a cast.”

“Well, you and I both know why.”

Ida Mae looked away, pulling on her shawl. “It wonders me why some people are timid 'bout getting medical help and others ain't. It's just odd.”

“The community's split down the middle on that.” Naomi waited for Ida Mae to say whether she would go or not.

“I s'pose I could take one of my impatiens plants to Cousin Connie. Cheer her up, maybe.”

“I think she'd like that, I surely do.” Naomi was relieved, since she hadn't wanted to travel alone all the way south, though she'd made the trip by herself before.

Naomi tapped on the carriage brake when they reached a steep decline. There was something else she thought Ida Mae should know. “Your brother Omar also went to speak with Bishop Isaac today. Sounds like your father bumped into him on the way in. Anyway, Omar asked outright what Bishop thought of him going ahead and registering to vote in the election.”

Ida Mae's eyes popped. “
Ach
, really?”

“Know what the bishop said? He told Omar that if he fasted and prayed 'bout it for three days, the Lord God would show him what to do.”

Ida Mae clapped her hands. “Well, ain't that the best answer ya ever did hear?”

“Your Dat completely agreed.”

“And what did Omar say?”

“Knowin' Omar's penchant for food, I would've thought he would say he'd keel over with starvation in three days.” Naomi shook her head. “But he's considerin' it.” She went on to say that when she'd tried to talk sense to him, he was as closed as a book. “The bishop was mighty prudent, if ya think about it, putting the decision right back in Omar's hands.”

“I do hope my brother is willing to fast and pray like the man of God asked.”

“If he refuses, the voting issue will be the least of our fears.”

They talked about other things for a while. Then, as they neared the store, Naomi asked, “By the way, how early did ya get your washing hung out today?”

“Before breakfast. Why?”

Naomi grinned at her. “Just curious.”

At 12:42 that afternoon, Eva saw Jed pull into the parking area in front of The Sweet Tooth. She knew the exact time because
she'd been watching the clock since the last few customers left, hoping Frona was busy writing to a couple of Ohio relatives about Lily's whereabouts, as she'd volunteered to do.

Eva put the last few triple chocolate–nut clusters onto wax paper to cool, so delighted at seeing him again, she did spontaneous little steps in place. Not a dance but nearly. “What if we
did
slip away for another walk?” she murmured, recalling yesterday and how they'd shared their hearts. She'd felt sad for his loss of his first love.

Eva could hear Jed whistling as he tied the horse to the hitching rail out back. Shaking out the lower part of her black apron, she wanted to look as neat and presentable as she could once Jed came up the walkway and opened the shop door. Watching him from afar, she felt almost dazed at her good fortune—this especially handsome and kind young man seemed so eager to see her again.

He wants to write to me,
she reminded herself, aware of her own widening smile.

Jed's stride was long and even, and his hair shone in the sunlight as he approached the shop. His black suspenders were stark against his long-sleeved white shirt, its sleeves rolled up.

“Hullo again.” He came inside and turned to quietly close the door.

“You're nearly on time,” she teased. It occurred to her how very comfortable she already felt with him.

“I might've been earlier if there hadn't been an accident out yonder.”

“Oh dear. Hope no one was hurt.”

“It looked like just a fender bender. Might've been a tourist who'd lost his way—the driver gawking about and not paying attention.”

She'd seen plenty of automobiles racing around buggies, but
she had never run across two cars in such a mishap. “Well, I'm glad
you're
in one piece, Jed.”

He brightened as he met her gaze, then looked around the place. “So this is where you spend much of your time?”

“The shop is only open four days a week—Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday—and never for more than a few hours. I do spend a fair amount of time makin' goodies, though! Would ya like a tour of this small corner of my world?” She showed him the little kitchen, where she pointed out the chocolate-nut clusters cooling on the counter. Then she brought him back to the display case to show him other favorite offerings, including the Butterfinger truffles made with semisweet chocolate, fresh cream, and Butterfinger candy bars.

“Choose a sample or two, if you'd like.”

“They all look
wunnerbaar-gut,
” Jed said with a grin.

She even led him behind the counter so he could see all the cubbyholes for storing paper bags and boxes, string, tape, and the like.

“You're very organized.” He moved closer to the display case, eyeing the truffles. “I'll purchase a few of these,” he said, his nose practically touching the glass.

“They were flyin' off the shelf earlier.”

Jed reached for his wallet and set it on the counter.

She shook her head. “
Ach
, you treated me at the café
 . . .
won't ya let me treat you?”

“That was our
date
, Eva. And if I lived round here, this would be just the first of many purchases.”

She smiled and felt her face flush, surely as pink as the geraniums on Naomi's porch. “I'd like to send some sweets along for your trip, all right?”

Jed reluctantly gave in, and it took no time for her to gather up a half-dozen truffles and wrap them. “I've hired a van driver,
since there are a few tools and other items to take back,” he explained. “Couldn't see storin' any of that in the luggage hold of a train, not when there's a driver already going that direction.”

“Sounds like you've got everything planned.” Oh, she wished he didn't have to leave.

He walked around the counter while she pulled out a small sack. A glance out the window reassured Eva that no other customers had arrived, and they still had a moment or two to themselves.

“I meant what I said the other night 'bout writing, Eva,” Jed said as she handed him the truffles.

“It'll be real nice to hear from ya.”

“That you will.” He picked up his wallet and a small picture fell out, landing facedown on the counter.

She leaned forward to retrieve it, but just as quickly, Jed reached for it. The photo slipped from his grasp and fluttered away. “
Nee!
” he muttered, trying to seize it.

His obvious nervousness startled her.

“I've got it,” he said, finally getting a grasp on it, but not before she'd caught a glimpse.

Her heart stopped, then sank.
What on
earth?

“Jed
 . . .
who
is
that?” Eva asked, though she was certain she knew.