“Would ya want me to be baptized just to avoid the draft?” Evan asked.

“Nee, it’d be wrong to pretend to be ready to join church—that’d be downright dishonest.” Lyle’s heart was beating mighty hard.

Evan took a drink of his iced tea and then sighed deeply. “Listen, Dat, I’d appreciate it if you told Mamm I’ve made a final decision not to avoid the draft.”

“Won’t ya think more ’bout this, son? Remember, we’re peace-loving people. We oppose all manner of violence. While that might not mean much to ya now, it might someday. And as your father, it’s my job to keep ya on the right path.”

“Dat, I’m not changin’ my mind.”

Lyle was perspiring heavily now. “Think how much better it would be to reflect God’s love in this troubled world—with a wiser choice—and maybe bring about some positive change that doesn’t take lives?” He tugged on his beard, relieved Elisabeth wasn’t here to observe their son’s open resistance.

Evan drank the rest of his tea straight down and then set the tumbler on the table hard. “All it takes for evil to triumph is for gut men to do nothin’.”

“Ach, son.”

“I’m sorry, Dat. I wish this wasn’t such a disappointment to ya, but it’s what I want to do . . . what I need to do.” With that, he left the kitchen and disappeared upstairs.

Stunned at how stubborn Evan had become—and how hardened against the Old Ways of the People—Lyle felt his anger rise. He trembled, but try as he might, he could not quell his frustration—and fear.

If Evan were younger, I’d put my foot down on all this and spare him harm. But he’s no longer a child.

Knowing he’d be up from his Sunday afternoon nap by now, Ellie walked over to visit Dawdi Hezekiah with a big jar of cold homemade root beer. She couldn’t help noticing the pretty pink and white petunias he’d planted along either side of the short walkway leading to his Dawdi Haus.

“Thought ya might want something cold to drink,” she said, entering his little kitchen and setting the jar on the counter.

From the table where he sat with his old German Biewel, Dawdi gave her a big smile, his spectacles on the tip of his shiny nose. “Always nice to see ya, Ellie-girl.” He rose and went to the cupboard to take out two drinking glasses, then set them on the counter. “Can ya stay for a little while?”

“Sure,” she said, pouring some root beer into each glass.

“There’s some chipped ice in the icebox,” he said, motioning to it.

“This is nice and cold already.”