“When did any of ya last hear from Evan?” Jonah repeated.

“Mamm and Dat got a short letter a few days ago, and I’m waiting for a reply—maybe sometime this week.” She wondered why Jonah was asking and hoped he wanted to write to Evan, too—at last. It was, and had been, obvious that her brothers weren’t happy with Evan. Mostly, though, like her parents, they were worried he might not survive combat. Terrible stories about the growing casualties were plastered on the front page of the newspaper nearly every day.

More and more, she was noticing how various people in the church district seemed to look askance at her and her family, likely because of Evan’s decision. And she’d learned Dat and Mamm had stayed so long visiting Onkel Amos and Aendi Emma on Sunday because Amos had a bone to pick with Dat. He’d wanted to know why Evan had been permitted to go his own way even before he turned sixteen. Ellie was surprised that a close relative would talk like that to her father, who had certainly tried to steer Evan away from the world at large. Dat didn’t know Evan was sneakin’ off to see Jack Herr back then.

“Seems like Evan’s thrown away everything,” Jonah was saying as he poured the liquid fertilizer. “It’s like he doesn’t care one iota about his upbringing.”

“It might look like that, but I’m clingin’ to the hope that God will be merciful and bring him safely home to us.” Ellie tugged on her bandanna, making sure her middle part was protected from the sun now that the clouds had moved away and the sun was beating down hard. “I’m sure you, Rudy, and Lydia are prayin’ that way, too.”

At supper, Ellie felt self-conscious with Sol at the table again. It was so different from when they were alone talking, but she tried to be more engaging with the family this time. When she passed the platter of porcupine meatballs, she commented to Mamm how nice and plump they were. And when the cornbread came around, she asked Dawdi if he’d like honey on his. Things like that, so she didn’t just sit awkwardly, like a bump on a log.

But as was the case at dinner earlier, Sol didn’t talk directly to her. Was he just shy around her family, maybe? Yet why would that be, considering he knew them all so well and worked closely with Dat and her brothers?

His muffled hearing might be the reason, she suddenly realized.

Dawdi Hezekiah spoke up just then to ask about the peanut butter pie on the counter. “Did ya use my wife’s recipe?” His expression appeared hopeful.

“Jah, she let me copy it right off her tattered recipe card years ago.”