“I was thinking of writing another letter to you and putting it in the stone wall, but I didn’t know if you’d look there for one from me again,” he said. “So, I got this idea . . . what if we just leave letters for each other there every Tuesday? What do ya think of that?”

She loved the idea but tried to be measured in her response. “If you want to.”

He let out a chortle. “I think you want to, too, Eliza. If not, speak up now.”

There was that sassy side of him again, and she snickered and covered her mouth.

“I can hear ya back there.” He sounded comically stern.

She laughed all the harder.

“So, look for a letter next Tuesday, late afternoon,” he said.

“While my aunt’s napping. It’s the only time I can leave the house, ’cept at night.”

“What if ya just told her you were goin’ out with a friend?” he suggested.

“Then she’d want to meet that friend—and approve of that friend, too. She’s awful strict, just like Dat and Mamma would want her to be.”

“Hmm, I see what ya mean. Guess we’re stuck with just letters, then.” Eb sounded sad.

“Jah, stuck,” she whispered. “In more than one way.”

“What’s that?”

“Sorry, I was muttering. A bad habit I have, according to Aunt Joanna.”

“But who doesn’t mutter?” Eb wasn’t laughing now.

She could see that they were turning into a lane that led to a beautiful wooded area. “Thought you were takin’ me to my aunt’s place.”

“I wanna show ya this real perty spot first.” He directed his gelding to slow as the carriage wheels rumbled over rocky terrain. “Whoa, Buckeye. Whoa.”

They came to a halt in what looked to be the middle of nowhere. “Are ya sure we oughta be here?” she asked, a little concerned.

“Let’s get out an’ walk,” he said, opening the door to a rush of fresh air.

She hopped out of the buggy and fell into step with Eb, pleased about the unexpected time with him.

“I had no idea I’d get to see ya today.” He reached for her hand, and it felt so good—warm, even comforting. “Must be Providence.”

She glanced at him. “Today might be the only time we walk together like this,” she said.

He nodded, then stopped and looked at her ever so sweetly. “You’re just the kind of . . . well, friend I’ve always wanted, Eliza.” His gaze was focused on her. “The best kind, I’m thinkin’.”

“Why’s that?” she asked as they continued to walk, their fingers interlaced.

“Well, you’re a gut listener. And I feel so at home with you.”

She felt the same way. Oh goodness, she did!

They strolled quietly onward, enjoying the breeze that ruffled the trees and the remarkably beautiful surroundings.