Lyle was thankful that numerous customers had purchased the day’s fresh peaches and freshly baked pies and cobblers at their family’s store. At closing, he hurried across the side yard and into the kitchen hallway, where he removed his shoes and socks in the utility room he’d built years ago at Elisabeth’s request. The outer room with a deep sink and ample space for shoes and outerwear was one way to keep the orchard dirt from tracking into the kitchen. For good measure, he’d also put in a bathroom just steps away.

Once the Saturday clientele had begun to thin out, Elisabeth had returned to the house to prepare supper. He watched her now as she placed a large bowl of cold macaroni salad on the table before returning to the woodstove. She had grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with help from Ellie, who was slicing fresh tomatoes from their garden. Meanwhile, Evan stood at the opposite end of the kitchen, opening a letter.

Observing his son with some trepidation—Evan rarely received mail—Lyle took his seat at the head of the table and folded his hands, waiting for his family to be seated.

Elisabeth wiped her hands on her work apron and reached behind her to untie it, then came to sit on Lyle’s right.

“Isn’t Daed eating with us tonight?” he asked her.

“Oh, he’s havin’ supper with Enos.”

Lyle knew that Daed was fond of his recently widowed younger brother. Anytime he was invited for a meal, or for the day, he was more than happy to go.

Ellie sat down to the right of her mother. “Supper’s on the table,” she announced, looking over at her brother.

Bringing the letter to the table, Evan placed it near Lyle’s plate. “Well, guess it’s official. I’ve been drafted into the United States Army,” he said as he took his seat to Lyle’s left.

“Let’s bow for prayer,” Lyle said, frustrated that Evan had practically pushed the draft notice under his nose. Nevertheless, he somehow managed to direct thoughts of gratitude to God for this provision of food set before them.

When the prayer was finished, he cleared his throat and raised his head to see Evan staring at the induction notice.

“Son?”

“Ach, sorry.” Evan tapped the letter. “I’m to report for my physical on Monday, September twenty-first, at the Military Entrance Processing Station in Harrisburg,” he said casually. “If I’m fit enough, I’ll go directly to basic training from there.”

Lyle couldn’t respond immediately, light-headed as he felt. This was the last thing he wanted to discuss during supper.

Seemingly unfazed, Evan picked up his hot sandwich and leaned over his plate to bite into it.

At last, Lyle said, “We’ll be lookin’ to hear from ya as soon as you can get word home to us, son.”