It was the first she’d ever let on that she cared for him—she had for a long time—so now she’d have to be extra cautious, since he seemed to see her only as a friend.

“I’ve been offered gut pay, as well as room and board, in exchange for my work as a farrier. I’d become an apprentice in his blacksmith shop, too.”

Susie remembered back years ago, when Obie first shared his keen interest in becoming a smithy someday. “This must be a dream come true,” she forced herself to say.

“Jah . . . and quite possibly my best chance to learn the trade.” Obie paused. “Besides, I’ve always liked Onkel Leon.”

Susie realized her hands were clenched in her lap.

“What do you think . . . that is, if I accept?” Obie’s voice was thin in the chilly air.

“It sounds like a great opportunity,” she said, her mind spinning. “But wouldn’t you miss everyone . . . I mean, your family?”

“I would.” He let out an audible breath. “I’d still like your opinion.”

She felt befuddled. Does he hope I’ll try to change his mind?

“To be honest, it would be strange not seein’ ya,” she said, careful not to reveal just how much she’d miss him. Then she was struck by a thought. But that’s bound to change no matter where he lives and works, once he meets someone and marries. And Del will probably ask me out again. . . .

Obie slowed the horse. “If I take the job—and I’m leanin’ toward it—I’ll try to keep in touch with you, Susie.”

He’d write to me? Something welled up in her, and she suddenly wanted to share her heart. But she couldn’t do that, not when he had always treated her more like a special sister. She refused to make a fool of herself. It could ruin their friendship for certain, and then how would she feel?

Finally, she said, “I would be glad to hear from you, when ya have the time.” Thrilled is more like it. . . .

Obie gave a nod before hurrying the horse to a trot.

They rode on in complete silence, and Susie knew that now was her chance to speak up, ask him not to go.

She noticed they were coming around the next bend to the spot where she and Eli had been walking the evening he was hit and killed. At that moment, being there—at that place of great loss—felt like too much.

“You all right?” Obie slowed the horse.

She felt an urgency to tell him why she sometimes took the family carriage to haul a rake and a broom in order to tend the place alone—something she hadn’t really shared with anyone but Mamma and Britta. Yet she held back, struggling with what, exactly, to say.