Mammi’s white hair was pulled back in a bun beneath her white organdy Kapp, and she whispered to herself but kept turning the pages, some of their gilded edges worn away from decades of repeated reading. A few pages were even coming loose from the binding.

“I’m thinking of making a trip to Lancaster County,” Anna said, aware of the familiar lilac scent of the homemade soap her grandmother had made for years before Wanita took over the task. “Mamm reminded me that you spent a summer in Strasburg, too, many, many years ago.”

Mammi’s head lifted just then. “Strasburg?”

“Jah.” Anna paused, holding her breath. “Do you remember?”

Mammi’s glassy gray eyes seemed to clear, but her gaze looked beyond Anna. “I’ll wait for ya there,” she said breathily, as if talking to someone unseen, a faint smile on her face. “By the light of the moon.” Then Mammi slowly lowered her head to look at her tattered German Bible and began to turn the pages once again, murmuring to herself as her usual confusion seemed to descend.

The strange momentary response startled Anna. It was almost as if Mammi had actually remembered something from that time decades ago. What came to her mind?

Anna went on to talk about her plans to apply for a job there as though she and Mammi Eliza were having a real conversation.

After a while, when it appeared that Mammi was starting to drop off, Anna encouraged her to lean back in the recliner for some rest. It was only a matter of moments before she was fast asleep, her hands resting lightly on the old Bible.

Touched by the endearing sight, Anna leaned down to kiss her damp forehead as if she were a child. Like Mammi tucked me in when I spent the night with her and Dawdi John, Anna thought fondly. And glancing again at the ragged Bible, she realized it was the same one Mammi had read aloud to her during those very visits. Sometimes, Dawdi would also come in with her to say good-night and place his soothing hand on Anna’s forehead. Both of them had showed such tenderness toward her.

Reluctant to leave Mammi’s side, Anna stood there gazing at the sweet wrinkled face, wanting to share more about her hopes and prayers. Eventually, she tiptoed into the kitchen to find Wanita chopping garlic to make a batch of spaghetti sauce.

Wanita looked up. “How’s she now?”

“Dozing.” Anna didn’t mention that Mammi had possibly remembered her months in Strasburg. And something about waiting in the moonlight . . .

“She lives for your visits, you know.”