The Heirloom by Beverly Lewis

Author:Beverly Lewis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Fiction;Amish—Fiction;Romance fiction;Christian fiction;Novels;FIC053000;FIC042000;FIC026000
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2023-06-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

Twenty-Six

1933

The fellowshipping after the Singing had lasted longer than usual. Talk of a party at Henry Mast’s brother’s place extended the time. But as soon as she could, Ella Mae slipped out of the barn, walking leisurely, knowing Isaac had a much longer trek to get to his car.

Mindful to stay close to the right side of the road, she wished she’d brought a flashlight. But her excitement overshadowed that. Several couples slowed up to offer her a ride, but she graciously declined. Henry Mast and his date, Mary Anna Fisher, were one of the couples, and recalling her twin’s growing fondness for Henry, Ella Mae felt a little sad for Essie. Hopefully someone else asked her to the party, she thought, aware of the tree branches moving overhead. The breezes were anything but gentle.

Accustomed to walking briskly, Ella Mae had to remind herself to slow down lest she arrive at the appointed spot too early, raising suspicions with anyone who might come by and see her there.

Finding Isaac parked beneath the trees as planned, she opened the door on the passenger side and quickly got in. Then off they went driving around the back roads, once again talking and enjoying each other’s company.

After a while, Isaac said he’d like to drive past Henry’s brother’s farm to see how many of the youth had gathered there. “We won’t stop, of course.”

Curious, Ella Mae agreed, then quickly learned that Isaac had overheard some of the fellows talking about buggy racing after the Singing. “That’s forbidden,” she said.

“And so is ownin’ a car,” Isaac replied, chuckling a little.

“But not for the unbaptized—the youth still in Rumschpringe—which you are.”

“Jah, but still I’ve kept my car a secret as best I can.”

“Your family doesn’t know?”

“Not unless my cousin spilled the beans.”

Ella Mae didn’t know what to think. Surely the longer Isaac drove his car, even after dark, the more likely someone who knew him would spot him and tell his parents. But the last thing she wanted to do was ruin their evening by continuing this conversation.

In no time, they arrived at the farm where many of die Youngie had assembled near a large bonfire in the side yard. “Today must be Henry’s birthday,” she said.

“Jah. He’s eighteen.” Isaac slowed the car even more, inching along and gawking. “Hey, looks like the deacon came for the party,” he said, pointing out the spring wagon at the back of the line-up of courting carriages.

“Ya sure it’s his?”

“See that extra board on the back? That’s how I know.”

“Well then, I doubt there’ll be any buggy racin’ tonight.” She hoped not.

“Deacon must’ve gotten word of it.”

Isaac accelerated, taking the highway for a while. He drove to Bird-in-Hand and down to Lincoln Highway, then back around to the less-traveled roads.

The nighttime chorus of crickets and katydids made for a soothing backdrop as Isaac drove with one hand on the wheel and the other holding hers. Every so often, he glanced at her and smiled, lifting her formerly sad heart.

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