It was a warm and humid June evening with a silvery white full moon as Eliza made her way down the narrow road, still wearing her for-good black dress and white organdy cape apron. She’d worn them to the Beachy meetinghouse that Lord’s Day morning, then returned to Great-aunt Joanna’s to sit with her on the back porch and read aloud from the Good Book. Eliza had also spent quite a bit of that afternoon writing letters home to her older sister and Mamma, so she hadn’t even bothered to change her clothes.

Leaving the house after supper hadn’t turned out to be as much of a challenge as Eliza had thought. She simply mentioned wanting to go for a walk, and oddly, Aunt Joanna hadn’t seemed to mind, nor did she question. She must be tired and nearly ready to turn in, Eliza thought.

Now barefoot, Eliza tiptoed through the verdant pastureland, hoping not to be heard or seen. For sure and for certain, it was the first time she’d done anything like this. Dat and Mamma would disapprove. . . .

She hadn’t forgotten how surprised and pleased Eb Lapp had looked when they’d bumped into each other at market yesterday. Since meeting him, she had seen him a number of times while running errands for her aunt. This time, though, he had suggested they meet privately, over near the towering pin oak tree on this side of a long row of loosely stacked old stones that formed a boundary, defining the property line between two fields. Eliza had objected at first, unsure what it could mean for her or for their budding attraction if they were found out. But Eb insisted it was the best place to talk. “We won’t be noticed there once twilight falls.”

Eliza could see the outgoing young man coming toward her in the near distance. He swung one leg and then the other over the stone wall before ambling across the grass, waving now.

Unusual as Ebenezer Lapp was, Eliza couldn’t deny being drawn to him after talking with him several times in the weeks since her arrival—both on the road to buy eggs from Nellie Petersheim and at Saturday market, too. Because he was Old Order Amish and she was from a less traditional Amish sect, they had to be discreet about their conversations. She was, however, quite sure he found her pleasing. Even so, she hoped it wasn’t just that she was an out-of-town girl and raised “part Amish, part Mennonite,” as Eb had said at least twice lately. She wanted it to be more than curiosity on his part that had caused him to invite her to meet him beneath the bright moon tonight.

Silently, she moved through the meadow grass and past wild black-eyed Susans, until Eb called out, “Eliza . . . you’re here.” The way he said it sounded as if he’d doubted she’d come.