She felt sad for him, realizing the love they must have had together.

“Are ya cryin’, Anna?” He stopped to look at her, stepping near, like he wanted to comfort her.

“They’re happy tears,” she said. “For you and Emily . . . and for Emmie. For the years that you did have together.”

Gabe tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful. “Does it bother ya to hear ’bout this?”

“Emily was your bride and Emmie’s Mamma, so not at all,” Anna said, glad he felt comfortable talking about his wife.

They meandered quietly and companionably for a while, looking at various displays of items for sale, including wooden toys, and then he eventually mentioned how his interest in building tree houses came about. “It struck me that so many Amishmen were building gazebos and toolsheds that the market for those was already swamped, so I carved out my own niche.” He smiled at her. “It’s been a gut livin’ . . . the Lord is blessing me beyond what I deserve.”

Later, they walked past the children’s discovery tent, and Anna thought of Emmie. There was no denying that she cared deeply for her, yet it was Gabe who was seeking Anna out. It was also Gabe who made her laugh and forget how complicated her romantic life was right now.

Around five o’clock, they stood in line for bratwursts at one of the food stands and then walked around eating them. Gabe’s was loaded up with chili, cheese, and relish—so much so that he ended up needing the extra paper napkins Anna had gotten. “You’re about to lose the best part,” she teased.

“That’s just what Emily would say.” He frowned suddenly, looking aghast. “Oh,” he groaned. “I’m mighty sorry, I—”

“No, it’s all right, really,” Anna assured him.

Gabe was silent for a while, and Anna wished she could say something to prove that it really was all right. She was actually surprised he hadn’t let his deceased wife’s name slip before now.

When Gabe did talk again, he asked, “Have ya been baptized into the Beachy Amish church back home?”

Such a probing question, she thought.

“Well, not just yet,” she said, “but it shouldn’t be much longer.”

He glanced at her. “Is your heart set on it?”

“I’ve been in prayer about it for quite some time.”

Nodding, he said, “Baptism is a holy sacrament, as you know. It’s an important step for anyone who’s opened their heart to Christ.”

Anna agreed, and after they bought root-beer floats and headed over to the hayride, she told him that it was her dear Mammi Eliza who’d led her at the age of nine to accept Jesus as her Savior. “Now it’s just a matter of being baptized . . . when the time is right.”