“Oh goodness, that cream cheese and whipped cream, and a graham cracker crust . . .” Dawdi said in a sing-songy way.

Dat grinned. “That pie ain’t for the faint of heart.”

“I s’pose we really should finish our main meal first,” Mamm said, laughing a little.

Dawdi nodded and winked at Ellie.

On his way to the side door after supper, Sol asked Ellie if tonight was a good time for him to dictate Leah’s letter to her.

Ellie agreed and mentioned that she owed his sister a letter, too. “But she should hear ’bout the attack from you first, jah?”

“Sorry, I didn’t quite hear the last part.” He leaned toward her a little.

She repeated herself a bit louder.

Sol nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

“I’ll be over after dishes are done,” she said, still concerned he wasn’t himself.

When Ellie arrived, Dawdi Hezekiah was sitting on his porch in one of his two willow rockers, wearing his dark blue sweater over his shirt and suspenders. “I found some lined writing paper for ya,” he said when he saw her. “And a nice pen.”

“We’re all set, then,” she replied as she reached for the screen door.

“Sol’s real discouraged ’bout his difficulty hearing,” he said. “Keep that in mind.”

“I will.”

He rose from the rocker, buttoned his sweater, and headed down the porch steps. “Well, I’ll be out walkin’ in the orchard if anyone needs me.”

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” Ellie told him. “It’ll get chilly soon.”

“I’m wearin’ my sweater.” He chuckled. “How long’s this letter gonna be?”

“That’s up to Sol.”

Dawdi started across the lawn. “I lit the big lantern in the kitchen,” he called behind him.

“Denki,” she said, then slipped inside to find Sol already at the table.

“I appreciate this, Ellie,” he said as she sat across from him in the lantern light.

Sol scooted the paper across to her. “My brain’s still a little hazy sometimes.” He sighed and glanced at the ceiling. “I tried to read the Bible last night, and the words jumped around on the page. And this afternoon I tried to write with my left hand, but it was impossible to read.” He grimaced.

“I’m glad to help,” she said, realizing he might also have asked her to write the letter since she and Leah were close friends. “How do ya want to start?”

“Let’s make it clear from the outset that you’re writing for me because my hand’s been injured, but not tell her how I injured it just yet.”

Ellie wrote as quickly as she could, taking down precisely what he dictated—who was writing and why, his greeting, and then asking Leah how she was doing and if she was still seeing Reuben Miller.