Eliza waited till she knew Great-aunt Joanna had gone to bed for the night, then crept outside, walking down the dirt lane to sit on the stone steps leading to the springhouse just south of the farmhouse. There, she pondered her situation, going over in her mind the fact that she had not run into Ebenezer Lapp either out on the road or at market for days now. It was odd, really, since for the first few weeks after coming to stay here, she had repeatedly bumped into him. As she stared at the moon, a sliver of a fingernail tonight, she wondered if he might have left the area to help a relative.

She’d brought her flashlight along, in case she decided to give in to her inclination to walk down the road to the stone wall. The desire to visit it was ever so strong, and sighing, she admitted to herself that what she actually wanted was to see Eb. She missed him. Getting up from the steps, she headed down toward the road, the light from her flashlight bobbing along, leading the way.

Locating the lone pin oak tree on this side of the stone wall, Eliza took several steps forward until she stood at the very spot where Eb’s parents had supposedly hidden their notes as a courting couple. Eb seemed so sure about it, she thought, her curiosity growing as she spotted the dark gray stone Eb had pointed out. Struggling to slip her fingers beneath the heavy stone and the one below it, she remembered what Eb had said about making it simple to find a letter in the wall. She stared at the large gray stone and pushed hard on it, and, managing to find a slight crevice underneath, she fished around, searching for what, she really did not know.

To her surprise, she felt something. And when she directed the light from the flashlight toward it, she saw a folded piece of paper with her name on the front.

“What on earth?” she murmured, pulling it from its hiding place, her pulse racing.

Ever so curious, she opened the note and began to read.

Dear Eliza,

I hope you think to come here looking for a note from me, though I figure the chances are probably low, since we didn’t really talk about doing this. But if you’re reading this, then know I’m very happy how much we think alike.

As I write this, three weeks have passed since you met me here, and truth be told, I’ve missed seeing you, Eliza. I like spending time with you. But since we really shouldn’t be seen together because of our different backgrounds—if you would even like to see me again, that is—I wondered if you might leave a note here for me, too . . . if you’ve found this one.

Your friend,
Eb Lapp