BooksBarbecue
Back The Orchard
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Half Title Page
  3. Books by Beverly Lewis
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Dedication
  7. Epigraph
  8. Prologue
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. Epilogue
  53. Author’s Note
  54. About the Author
  55. Back Ads
  56. Cover Flaps
  57. Back Cover

Elisabeth, on the other hand, seemed to pour her worries into baking cookies, including some of Evan’s favorite bars, and sending a fresh batch nearly every week. And because he’d written that his platoon buddies were “going bananas over the treats,” she now baked extra to mail.

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As the days came and went, Ellie continued to write to Evan, sometimes twice a week. Every so often, late at night when she came downstairs for a drink of water or some milk, she’d find Mamm sitting at the kitchen table writing by candlelight. It wasn’t Ellie’s place to know what her mother was sharing with Evan, but she was curious all the same. One thing was surely apparent to her brother by now: He was greatly loved and prayed for in spite of his worldly stance. Even Dawdi Hezekiah occasionally added a handwritten note to him in Ellie’s letters, which was rare for Dawdi to do, considering he wasn’t fond of writing much of anything. In one of the notes, he’d written, God’s presence is real even in the most difficult times. I know this firsthand, Evan.

Ellie wondered what he’d meant by “firsthand,” but if he wanted her to know, he would tell her eventually.

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At the smithy’s, Lyle ran into his younger brother, Omar, who’d been treating him as if he were to be pitied for Evan’s lack of interest in upholding their peace-loving ways. Since Evan’s shortcomings were already evident to Lyle, he merely nodded when Omar frowned at him. He didn’t expect Omar to speak to him, but Lyle asked about his best driving horse all the same, trying to break the ice. “Any improvement after the vet’s visit?”

Omar shrugged. “Some.”

“Des gut.”

Omar looked at him askance. “I’m curious. Does your Evan have the decency to keep in touch?”

“He has been.” Lyle nodded. “And he could use more prayer.”

Acting skittish at that, Omar quickly said, “Ain’t like we’re not prayin’ for him.”

“I appreciate that.”

This sort of thing had happened a few times before—even after the common meal following Preaching, of all places. Each time, Lyle had silently asked God for a spirit of meekness, much as he wanted to speak up. Truth be told, he was still smarting from his son’s desire to forge ahead with joining the army.

“How was your Thanksgiving?” Lyle asked Omar now.

“Gut. Half the kids were home. You know how it is: The married ones must juggle the in-laws.” He actually chuckled.

“’Tis true.”

When Lyle finished making an appointment with the smithy, he waved at Omar, who bobbed his head slightly.

None of his boys have given him a speck of trouble, Lyle thought as he headed for his waiting horse and buggy.

19

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