“Well, when ya invite God to plant His desires in you, ya must be willing to take one step at a time, as He leads,” Sadie said quietly. “Remember, the heart chooses who it loves.”

Anna seemed to ponder that. “Surely I’m not supposed to be with an Amish fella, though. A widower . . . with a troubled child who might not be easy to raise.” Anna covered her mouth, catching herself. “Oh, it’s just so complicated!”

Sadie knew she must be gentle with her reply. “Are you afraid of lovin’ again, Anna?”

Frowning at first, Anna nodded slowly. “The way things ended with my first beau, I feel like I need to guard my heart . . . be careful who I let in,” she confessed. “I don’t ever want to hurt like that again.”

“You’re wise.” Sadie reached to touch her hand. “And I believe you can trust your heavenly Father to make the way clear to you.”

They talked awhile longer; then Anna asked if Sadie would remember her in prayer. “More than anything, I want God’s choice of a mate.” She paused. “And I want my family to be pleased, too. I’d never want to hurt them.”

Sadie agreed to pray. “Can ya wait for the Lord to make this known to you?”

“I intend to do that, jah.” Anna thanked her for taking time to listen and to give good advice, especially in the middle of the night. “You’re really a dear,” she whispered.

“Well, I care ’bout ya, Anna.” Sadie smiled. “We’ll talk again.”

Chapter 43

The passenger van arrived around one-thirty, and Gabe walked right up the cobblestone path to the porch, where Anna was sitting. He looked like any Amishman headed for Preaching service, dressed all in black other than his white long-sleeved shirt. His fair beard was neatly trimmed, and he wore a black felt hat since the days were cooler now.

Fortunately, Luke, Marianna, and the children had gone somewhere earlier, and Glen was in the front room reading. At least for now Anna could rest easy about not being seen with Gabe. She smiled when he greeted her, and she happily went with him to the van, where he offered his hand to help her in. Strangely giddy, she sat at the window on the third bench and Gabe slid in next to her.

The van was nearly full with other Amish folk, all of them going to the Harvest Days Festival at Landis Valley Farm, she learned as they rode. Gabe also introduced her to several of them, mostly neighbors or church members, all in a friendly, merry mood.

He must not care what they think . . . that I’m not really one of them.