“I can’t miss going to the Beachy meetinghouse on the Lord’s Day,” she muttered to herself on the back porch, knowing she must go in and set the table for supper. Old Order though she is, Aunt Joanna would be in the phone shanty calling my parents right away if I tried that. But even worse was realizing that it would likely be the end of Eb’s and her friendship.

Sitting there on one of the porch rockers, Eliza scribbled a few lines back to him at the bottom of his note, deciding to take it to the stone wall later tonight, even though she’d already left a note for today. I cannot give him a speck of hope, she mused, shaking her head.

Then, hearing her great-aunt calling to her, she slipped the note into her dress pocket and hurried inside.

She left the house right after she redded up the kitchen for her aunt, who was settling down with the Good Book. Eliza had said she was going for a walk and would be right back. Her aunt glanced at her over her eyeglasses, her brows raised, but said not a word.

“I won’t be but a few minutes,” Eliza said.

“All right, then.”

Running toward the stone wall, Eliza hoped Joanna wouldn’t contact Dat and Mamma, but she worried all the same.

At the stone wall, she was startled to see Eb standing behind the tall tree, the letter she’d placed there that afternoon in his hand.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” she asked.

He frowned. “How’s that any way to greet your friend?”

“Just mighty surprised to see ya.”

“Well, I got tied up workin’ with my Dat and just now came lookin’ for your note.” He held it up. “I should be askin’ what you’re doing here twice in one day.”

Now she smiled. “You’re right.” She handed him the note where she’d answered at the bottom.

He opened it, and seeing his own handwriting, he asked, “Are ya giving it back?”

“Look after you signed off.”

“You wrote me a PS?” He grinned.

“I doubt you’ll like it much,” she said, moving closer to point out where she’d written her answer to his invitation.

He read it, folded it, and pushed it into his pants pocket. “I’m gonna be frank with ya.” He paused. “We’ve been foolin’ ourselves, Eliza. I like you as much more than a friend.”

Her muscles tensed. And here she was, coming to end his romantic hopes.

“Truth is, I want to openly court ya,” Eb said, “for all the People to see. But to do that, you’d have to join my church.”

She should have guessed this. And hearing him talk so made her eyes well up. “I wish I could, but . . .”