Soon after Ruthann returned home near the end of March as planned, Ellie picked her up and took her to the fabric shop in Bird-in-Hand. On the way there, Ruthann revealed that she had, indeed, written Sol what she called “a gentle breakup letter.”

“So ya prayed ’bout it?” Ellie asked, holding the driving lines, her eyes on the road.

“I sure did. And ya know what? He didn’t seem to mind much, or so he indicated in his short letter back to me. I guess friendship was all Sol and I were ever gonna have,” she said, a hint of a smile on her face. “And evidently, Sol told Menno ’bout it, ’cause next thing, Menno wrote to me. Ya don’t mind, do ya?”

Ellie felt a tingle of surprise. Menno wrote to her? “Why should I mind? Menno and I aren’t meant for each other.”

“It’s kinda funny, I think.”

Ellie agreed, wondering why Sol hadn’t told her any of this. But then, she had been tied up with vendors at market a lot, taking more orders as well as keeping an eye on land listings, though there wasn’t much to choose from locally. Maybe Sol figured it was better for Ruthann to tell me in person.

“Have ya been at Singings at all since you and Menno broke up?” her cousin asked.

“Sure, and I had fun spendin’ time with lots of my girl cousins, mostly.”

“Mostly?” Ruthann’s eyes brightened. “Someone asked ya out ridin’?”

“Two fellas did.”

Ruthann frowned. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Well, ’cause I didn’t go.”

“Why not?” Ruthann looked baffled as they pulled into the fabric shop’s parking lot.

Ellie shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.” She got out to tie Nelly to the hitching post.

“Two guys, and ya turned them both down?” Ruthann asked as she met her there. “You must not care ’bout ever getting married.”

“I’ll trust God for that, when the time is right.”

Ruthann nodded reluctantly. “You amaze me.”

Inside the shop, Ellie headed over to look at the discounted spools of thread, and Ruthann made her way straight to the dress material.

After a short time, a pretty young woman wearing flared denim pants and a double-breasted navy-and-white-plaid coat came up to Ellie. “You’re Evan’s twin sister, aren’t you?” she asked, a navy-colored headband in her shoulder-length blond hair. “You look just like him.”

Nodding, Ellie realized this was Cheryl Herr, Evan’s girlfriend. “Jah. I think we’ve met before, but it’s been a while.”

“Yes. At the farmers market. Soft pretzels are a weakness of mine.”

“I think it’s the salt—I love pretzels, too,” Ellie said, face-to-face with the young woman who’d said she would wait for Evan before he left for boot camp.