“But friendship is where things begin,” Mamm replied. There was an awkward pause before she continued. “Honestly, Anna, I didn’t think the need to tell you this would ever arise, but it seems like it’s time. You see,” she said, her voice momentarily faltering, “my mother was a very young woman—just turning sixteen—when she went to Strasburg. And while she was there, she met an Old Order fellow. They were supposedly ‘just friendly,’ as you might say. But there was more to the story.”

“So, Mammi fell for a traditional Amishman?” Anna had rather suspected the beau had been Old Order, but hearing it directly from her mother still took her aback.

“Fortunately, it was short-lived, and no one really knows what happened to bring it to an end.” Mamm sighed. “Your Mammi Eliza’s mother revealed this to me a long time ago, as a warning.”

Solemn as Mamm sounded just now, Anna knew it wasn’t a good idea to ask for more information.

“Remember how, before you left home, your father cautioned you about not getting mixed up with someone outside our community like this?” Mamm asked. “Anna, I urge you not to turn your back on the Light you’ve been blessed with. Knowing we’re saved by grace through faith is essential . . . it’s not only about good deeds, I’m sure ya know.”

Anna knew her parents were trying to protect her, and while she understood their reasons for that, she felt reined in, too.

“Your Mammi Eliza wasn’t herself for quite some time after returning from Strasburg. Such relationships can only lead to heartache.”

No matter what I’ve said, she doesn’t believe Gabe and I are simply friends, Anna thought, not knowing how to respond, except to repeat what she’d already said.

Mamm suddenly mentioned needing to check on something boiling over on the stove, so she said a quick good-bye.

Anna clicked off her phone and sat there on the porch, looking out at the road, feeling not only blue for the heartbreak Mammi Eliza must have suffered so long ago, but also feeling like she’d just been reproached herself—and for absolutely no reason.

I am not falling for an Old Order Amishman! she thought.

Wednesday and Thursday of that week were exceptionally busy with numerous requests for car tours through the back roads of Amish farmland. Mart sent a text just to say hi and that he was swamped with tourists—and suspected she was, too.