Anna had certainly never considered staying in an Amish farmhouse without electricity. Here in their small Beachy Amish settlement, they enjoyed electricity, phones, and other modern conveniences, even cars if they chose, though a few folk still drove horse and buggy on Sunday to the meetinghouse. In other ways, though, like their simple style of dress, their lives were like those of their Old Order relatives, though many of Anna’s ancestors had broken away from that group in 1927.

“It wouldn’t be easy,” Anna acknowledged.

Mamm breathed out a long sigh and glanced out the window. “Your Mammi Eliza spent a summer there in Strasburg when she was a teenager, working for her Old Order Amish great-aunt Joanna Beiler. It was a difficult time for Eliza and my grandparents, having her so far away.”

Anna remembered hearing about that long-ago summer. Seventy years ago now, she thought, wondering if Mammi Eliza could possibly have any recollection of that time, considering her severe memory loss. I’ll mention it when I visit her, Anna decided, suddenly curious.

She was also eager to give Cousin Sadie a call to ask her a few questions and to thank her for the surprising invitation.

Could this be my answer to finding a fresh start?

The next day, after Friday morning chores, Anna drove her car the two miles to her older sister’s home, where Mammi Eliza had been residing comfortably since Dawdi John passed away.

The two-story white clapboard house had nine large rooms and an enormous pantry at the far end of the spacious kitchen, which was a good thing, considering that Anna’s twenty-eight-year-old sister, Wanita, and husband, Conrad Yoder, currently had nine children under their roof—five biological, including a boy and girl who were twins, and four foster children.

Anna didn’t pause to knock at the back door. Like everyone else in her Plain community, she simply announced herself by calling as she opened it and stepped inside.

Instantly, three of the youngest girls came running toward her, all of them wrapping their pudgy arms around her long mint green dress. “Aendi Anna’s here,” five-year-old Bonnie said, grinning up at Anna. Her four-year-old sister, Bethie, beamed happily as she let out a little squeal.

Leaning down, Anna patted each of the girls’ cheeks before picking up the smallest of Wanita’s foster children—golden-blond Rogene. “Looks like you’re wearing breakfast on your face,” Anna said as she carried the eighteen-month-old over to the sink to wash the pancake syrup off her chubby face just as Wanita exited the walk-in pantry.

“I didn’t hear you arrive,” Wanita said, coming to greet Anna after setting two quart jars of tomato sauce on the counter. A blue bandanna covered her dark blond hair bun. “I see you have your arms full of sweetness.” Wanita reached out to stroke Rogene’s dimpled arm. “Who’s got ya, huh?” she murmured, her deep blue eyes twinkling at the tot.