As they rode, Anna learned more about the elderly gentleman who had yearned to court her Mammi Eliza so long ago. Gabe also told her that Eb lived in a small Dawdi Haus next to his daughter and son-in-law’s place. “He has Parkinson’s, so his hands shake,” Gabe said, a noticeable softness and respect in his voice. “But he’s as sharp as ever, thank the Lord. And he’ll enjoy meetin’ ya, Anna . . . ’specially given the letter you found.”

“To think that I’m the granddaughter of his first love,” Anna said, having brought the letter with her, wanting to show it to both Gabe and his grandfather whenever it seemed appropriate.

Gabe glanced at Anna as he held the driving lines. “Are ya nervous?”

“A little,” she admitted.

He winked at her. “You won’t have to say a word to win him over, Anna. Trust me.”

“I do,” she said, love filling her heart.

The meadow lay fallow in clover on either side of Ebenezer’s little house. The meadow’s edges were lined with a profusion of sumacs, wild-raspberry canes, and the browned stalks of wild flowers, no longer blooming due to several hard frosts.

Pretty sandstone steppingstones made a pathway around to the Dawdi Haus, where they found white-haired Eb Lapp in his toasty kitchen, sitting peacefully in his rocker close to his black heater stove.

“Hullo, Dawdi, I’ve brought someone to meet ya,” Gabe announced as they let themselves in the back door.

Eb pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and looked their way. “Well, ’tis ’bout time ya found yourself a perty girl again.” He chuckled and pulled on his long white beard. “Don’t mind me, dear,” he said, his voice frail and husky.

“Jah, Dawdi Eb doesn’t always think before he speaks.” Gabe was grinning now.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, stepping forward to shake his hand. “I’m Anna Beachy.”

Eb frowned, tilting his head this way and that. “Say now, ya look like someone I used to know.” He kept his eyes on her. “Someone I knew when I was chust a young fella.”

Gabe brought two chairs over from the table and offered one to Anna. He scooted closer to Eb and sat down. “Anna’s from Mifflinburg,” Gabe said, glancing now at her.

“Mifflinburg, ya say?” Eb’s brow wrinkled as his face grew more serious.

“Jah,” Gabe replied.

The grandfather clock in the small sitting room next to the kitchen struck a resounding two.

“You wouldn’t be related to the Hertzlers, would ya?” Eb tugged again on his long beard. “Ach, ya must think I’m all but ferhoodled.” He sighed.

“Not at all, Dawdi,” Gabe spoke for Anna, nodding to her.

Anna moved her chair a little closer to Eb’s. “Do you remember a girl named Eliza Hertzler?”