“I’ll do that,” Allen said. “How are yous getting along?”

“Doin’ okay . . . but missin’ Mamma.”

“Understandable. She’s going to write ya when she feels up to it.”

Hearing this made Susie smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Meanwhile, could you and Britta send her a note?” Allen asked. “Also, since she’s been in the hospital for part of her visit, Sarah and I will be keepin’ her with us a while longer. We don’t want to rush her home without some time to mend.”

“I’m not surprised.” Susie certainly didn’t see the sense of Mamma going out there all that way, just to hurry home.

“We’ll look after her real gut,” Allen assured her. “Don’t worry.”

Susie was thankful for that. “Denki for callin’.”

“Okay. Tell Britta hullo, too.”

“She’s right here, listening to my side of the conversation. She’s been helpin’ muck out the stalls.”

“Wish Henry lived closer; he could help yous with that,” Allen said, as if he really meant to say that he wished he lived closer.

“It’s not the most pleasant chore, but it’s gut exercise.” Susie laughed.

After hanging up the phone, Susie immediately told her sister the news of Mamma’s expected release from the hospital the day after tomorrow.

A look of relief passed over Britta’s face; then she grimaced. “I hate that she can’t come home when she’d planned to.”

“I know. But let’s be glad Mamma received the help she needed at the hospital. She seems to be recoverin’ so much more quickly than last January.”

“Thank the Lord for that,” Britta said.

Later, after supper and before Bible reading and prayer, both Susie and Britta sat down at the kitchen table to write letters to their mother.

Susie made a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies after Britta left on her scooter for the girls’ volleyball games at Hazel’s that afternoon. While the cookies were cooling, Susie slipped off to her room and found the box beneath her bed where she’d kept all of Obie’s many letters.

She removed the rubber band and lifted the flap on one of his early ones, written some weeks after the very first. Seeing his familiar handwriting, she paused, something rising in her heart.

Recalling his first mention about writing to her, she easily put herself back in the carriage next to him in her memory. Oh, how happy she’d felt, yet tense. Her first and only ride with her dear friend.

There had been another time, after a Singing, when he’d seemed especially reticent—after all the youth had paired up and left—and she’d thought for sure he would ask to take her riding. But he hadn’t.

Maybe if I’d let him know I was interested in him that way, she thought. Might that have changed everything?