“My mom has commented on how beautifully done yours are. She and my father will be so pleased,” he said, lingering as though he wanted to talk longer. He glanced around, his gaze falling on the small shelf Dat had built years ago, where Mamma kept a few small lanterns, a rustic birdhouse, and a quilted potholder hanging from a hook, just to decorate the shop a little. “Has my sister come by yet? I know she’d enjoy this little nook.”

“She may have,” Susie said, explaining that she, Mamma, and Britta took turns helping customers. “But if not, she’s certainly welcome to.”

He glanced again toward the display of jams and jellies. “Just curious, do yous ever sell rhubarb jam?”

“We do, once the rhubarb comes on.” She laughed a little. “It’s still early, and we sold the last jars of that before Christmas. Ours is extra special, so it always goes fast.”

“What makes it special?” he asked, stepping closer to the counter.

“Three secret ingredients.”

“How secret?”

She shook her head, laughing now. “Mamma’d never let me tell.”

“Ach, guess I’ll just have to taste it to know, then.”

She wasn’t sure if he was pulling her leg. “Honestly, you can tell ingredients by taste?”

“S’pose it’s a family trait. My Dat and sister can do it, too. Mamm makes a little game of it sometimes—tries to see if she can stump us.”

“Okay, then. I guess you will have to taste it.”

“When will there be a sample?”

“Oh, in another six weeks or so.”

“Sounds gut to me.” Del paid for the jam, thanked her, and was on his way.

Susie had noticed how hard he’d tried to be matter-of-fact and not too obvious. But she was quite sure he was interested in getting to know her better. After all, not many young men came into their shop.

Suddenly, the door opened again, and Del poked his head in. “Would ya like to have dessert with me, say a week from Sunday night?”

“I have a Singing at Deacon Peachey’s that evening,” she said, figuring he’d be attending his in Gordonville.

“What ’bout afterward?”

She couldn’t help but agree. “That’d be nice, Del.”

“All right with you if we double with another couple—gut friends of mine?”

“Sure.”

Again, he grinned. “I’ll see ya after my Singing, then.”

“In the meantime, I’ll get busy on your cross-stitch.”

Del waved and closed the door behind him.

He must’ve dressed up just to come here, she thought, smiling to herself.

CHAPTER
9

It was still dark that Saturday morning when Susie sat up in bed, breathing hard, hands clammy. She trembled, trying to push away the bad dream, in which she had been trying to reach Eli, warn him that a car was coming. . . .