“As soon as possible.”

“Good.” He releases my hand. “We’ll make it official next Sunday.” He turns his attention to the woman behind me.

Giving myself a small mental shake, I continue on.

CHAPTER 10

The tack room bustles with activity. It’s ten degrees warmer than the rest of the barn and filled with conversation in Deitch. Suggs had told me there are approximately a hundred and fifty people in the community. I don’t know if that’s an official number, but I’m guessing the number is closer to two hundred.

Many of the teenagers have already eaten and fled. Sunday is a big day for socializing for them. Chances are there will be a singing later, and I’m betting a few of the boys have gone off someplace private to smoke cigarettes. Because they’re teenagers and not yet baptized, the adults won’t give them too much static.

I make my way to the place where I left the date pudding, plasticware, and serving spoon, and I busy myself filling the dessert cups. I’ve filled a dozen or so when I see Mary’s daughter, Anna, looking at me from across the room. She’s standing a few feet from her mamm, looking bored—and hungry.

I motion her over. “Would you like to help me fill the cups?” I ask.

“Ja!” the girl says enthusiastically.

I catch her mother’s eye and the woman gives me a nod. For a few minutes, Anna and I work in silence. All business now, she separates the cups and slides one to me. I dip the spoon into the pudding and ladle a dollop into the cup. As people converge, I introduce myself and make small talk, doing my utmost to engage them. I share the recipe for the date pudding with the women who ask. I discuss Schrock’s sermon with a couple of the men. And there’s always the weather, which seems to be a favorite topic.

After half an hour or so, the crowd at my table thins. Making sure Mary Gingerich is out of earshot, I turn my attention to the girl helping me. “I think everyone liked the pudding,” I say.

“Brick Ivan had two cups!” the girl exclaims.

“Brick Ivan?”

“His real name is just Ivan but everyone calls him brick because he lays bricks.”

“Ah.” I smile, trying to come up with a way to get her talking about Rachel Esh. “You said your friend Rachel liked date pudding, too.”

“She helped me and Mamm make it once.”

“Were you good friends?” I’m not sure how close she was to Rachel Esh and I don’t want to upset her, so I tread carefully.

Anna nods vigorously. “She was my best friend.”

“You must miss her.”

“Ja. Everyone thought she was too old to be my friend. You know, because I’m stunted. But my mamm said that’s okay because God made me that way and whatever God does is okay.”

“Your mamm is right.” I shovel a spoonful of pudding into a cup and hand it to her. “What kinds of things did the two of you do together?”