A flagstone walkway led to the long front porch of the old stone house where Susie Mast lived with her widowed mother, Aquilla, and younger sister, Britta. The path curved past a small white gazebo in the side yard near two sugar maples, then around to the back door, which opened into the outer room, where, before he moved away, Susie’s brother Allen had been known to clomp indoors with dirty work boots.

Now, three days after her birthday, Susie stood in the driveway waiting to welcome her auburn-haired sister home from the one-room schoolhouse a half mile away. She recalled the times when Mamma had stood in this very spot, awaiting her return each weekday afternoon.

Silently, Susie thanked God for this pleasant afternoon and for the customers who had purchased two dozen jars of Amish peanut butter spread at Mamma’s little shop earlier, as well as some fresh goat cheese. A gut day, she thought, thankful as well for the money Mamma said Allen pitched in each month to help make ends meet.

Squinting into the sunlight, Susie heard the sound of schoolchildren talking and laughing just around the bend in the road.

It wasn’t long before Britta and the girls who walked with her came into view. Some wore dark green and plum dresses beneath their black coats, while others wore brighter hues of maroon and blue. Each also wore a dark blue bandanna. As usual, the schoolboys hung farther back, all of them in black broadfall trousers and coats, their straw hats snug on their heads.

Britta was nearly half a head taller than the other girls her age. They looked toward Susie and waved, then called their good-byes to Britta, who turned and dashed up the driveway.

“Hullo!” Susie said, happy to see her. “What did ya learn today?”

“More than my head can hold,” Britta replied.

“Well, you’re a gut scholar. You’ll be fine.”

Britta’s dark eyes revealed momentary pride. “Just doin’ my best.” She shrugged, then added, “Oh, and Hazel Yoder an’ I are competing in grammar lessons.”

“Des gut, jah?”

“Keeps us both on our toes, even though she’s a grade ahead.”

Susie smiled as they walked into the house together. “Want a snack before chores?”

“Applesauce, maybe, but I can get it,” Britta answered.

“With cinnamon, of course.” Susie beat her to the gas-powered refrigerator and opened the half-full Mason jar of sauce.

“Ach, you spoil me, sister,” Britta said as she removed her black coat and hung it on the wooden hook on the far wall of the kitchen, near the walk-in pantry. “How would I ever manage without ya?” she teased.

Susie laughed. “You’d do just fine.”

Britta shook her head, her face suddenly serious. “Well, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.”