She kept rehashing the fact that Mamma had chosen her to come and assist Aunt Joanna. Strasburg had sounded like a foreign country when Mamma had first brought up the idea of sending Eliza here. Mamma didn’t know it, but I felt panicked at the thought of leaving home, she thought, missing her three older sisters, each one an expert in harvesting and putting up vegetables. Unlike Eliza, they were also skilled in the virtue of patience, knowing when to offer their opinion on a matter and when to hold their peace.

Truth be told, Eliza wished to goodness her great-aunt hadn’t contacted Mamma, asking for help. And yet, Eliza did feel sorry for her, pining for her deceased husband as she seemed to be while pacing the creaky floors at night. Eliza had heard her more than twice in the past few days. The poor woman needed comfort, but Eliza wasn’t up to the task. Rather, she had simply covered her head with the sheet and quilt, knowing that if she didn’t get adequate sleep, she wouldn’t be any good for the long list of chores her great-aunt wielded daily.

She keeps mentioning my boundless energy. Eliza lifted her face to look around her as she pulled the wagon to Cousin Nellie’s, who wasn’t Eliza’s cousin at all, at least that she knew of. So many kinfolk of kinfolk, it’s hard to know who’s who sometimes.

One thing she did know, though—the fair-haired Old Order Amish fellow coming this way was mighty hasty over there on the other side of the road. She had just now noticed the young man, and as he approached, she could hear him robustly whistling.

And just like that, the whistling stopped and he crossed the road, coming toward her. “Hullo,” he said with a wave toward the wagon. “Mind if I help?”

“I don’t need help,” she said, struck by how good-looking he was.

“A plucky one, ya are.” And without saying more, he leaned over and grabbed the wagon handle from her.

As he began to pull the wagon, leaving her no choice but to fall in step behind him, she was stunned speechless, rare for her. “Where ya headed . . . and where ya from?” He turned back to eye her tan cape dress and white Kapp.

It was all she could do not to make up a story, tempted to fool this self-assured young fellow. But she remembered the proverb Aunt Joanna had read earlier about speaking the truth and showing forth righteousness.

“I’m makin’ a delivery to Nellie Petersheim,” she admitted. “And I’m from Mifflinburg, which may as well be halfway round the world.” This last bit she added more softly.

“Ah, so you’re the one helpin’ Joanna Beiler this summer.”

“Goodness—how many people know I’m here?”

“Ain’t a single thing hidden from view round here, trust me.”