“Oh, I’d like that.”
“I didn’t tell ya before, but it’s a love poem.”
Lena wondered if perhaps Eli had inspired the poem. More curious now, she found the flashlight, switched it on, and began to read.
When she’d finished, she turned off the flashlight. One by one, the stars were appearing. “I understand why the magazine picked this poem, Lydia. It’s just beautiful.”
Lydia thanked her. “I was writing ’bout my Dawdi and Mammi Smucker, the sweetest couple ever. They prayed together every day.” She went on to say that they had passed away within just two months of each other—to the very day and hour. “I honestly don’t think Dawdi had the will to go on without her, so the Lord must’ve given him the desire of his heart and called him to Gloryland, too.”
Thinking how dear this was, Lena wondered if James Zook felt the same way. Mimi had once remarked how very sad James was, but while he certainly had his solemn moments, he still had a lively sense of humor.
Lydia turned to look at Lena. “True love ain’t so common, I think—at least the kind my grandparents had. But I do hope to have that special sort of love with Eli.” Lydia sighed. “I s’pose my hopes are high, though.”
Mine too, Lena thought, glad to have read Lydia’s touching poem.
After the refreshment time midway through the Singing, when the young men were taking their seats on the opposite side of the long row of tables, Lena noticed several couples exchange meaningful looks. It reminded her how things had been with Hans last summer, when he’d first sought her out.
Just then, Lena realized that Arden Mast was looking her way, a concerned frown on his face. Had she forgotten to keep singing? She gave him her best smile and sang more heartily than before.
Later, during the wagon ride, Lena sat beside Lydia and her younger cousin Vera, hoping to discourage Arden from getting too near. There was really no subtle way to look to see where he had ended up on the wagon, but there was a group of young men on the back end, laughing and talking, and she was certain she’d heard his laugh amongst them. Some of the fellows were still singing gospel songs, all in unison.
Lena couldn’t pick out Arden’s deep voice, although she really wasn’t trying to. Now and then, she entered into conversation with Lydia and Vera, who were currently looking up at the northern sky as Lydia pointed out the seven stars that made up the Big Dipper.
“Once ya locate the Big Dipper, it’s easy to find the Little Dipper,” Lydia was saying. “It can be harder, though, when the moon’s starting to rise . . . like tonight.”
Smiling, Lena told Lydia, “You should write a poem about the stars.”
“That’s a real gut idea,” Vera said, still staring at the sky.
“It’d be fun to see what ya come up with,” Lena urged. “You’re a fine poet.”
Lydia laughed merrily. “I honestly don’t know ’bout that.”
“Those stars are like jewels, ain’t so?” Vera said, still transfixed by the glittering sky.
“They’re pretty, but I’d say people are the real gems,” Lydia said, giving Vera a quick little hug. “Relationships are more interesting to me.”
Observing Lydia’s warm interaction with Vera, Lena was glad for her friendship with Lydia. Cousin Eli was fine, but it wasn’t the same as having another young woman to talk to.
The hay wagon rolled through the night over the snow-packed field lanes that crisscrossed the various Amish farms. The air was surprisingly still, ideal for a winter’s evening outdoors, although Lena was still very thankful for her warmest mittens, made by dearest Mamma two Christmases ago. She curled her fingers tightly together inside them and slipped her thumbs out of their spots, creating even more warmth.
After a while, Vera leaned her head on Lydia’s shoulder, and some of the other girls moved around, some even going to sit next to a beau, their booted feet dangling over the side of the wagon. Lena had relished the cold, stimulating air on her face at the beginning of the ride, but presently her nose began to sting, and she pulled her woolen scarf up over her face, leaving space for only her eyes.
Lydia whispered that she thought the ride was too long, and Lena put her arm around her, huddling near.
“I wore long johns—did you?” Lena whispered back.
Lydia giggled now. “Oh, wouldn’t have come without ’em.”
“Growin’ up in Michigan, all us kids wore them through the winter.”
The ride lasted for another ten minutes or so, and when they stopped back at the Mast farm, it was Arden and another fellow Lena didn’t know who helped all the girls down from their wagon, shining their flashlights. Lena smiled, wondering if it was possibly an excuse for Arden to talk to her.
“Did ya have a gut time?” Arden asked as they went together to the stable to get Lydia’s father’s horse.
“Jah, did you?”
“It was the best part of the evening,” Arden said, “being out there with so many friends.”
The light of his flashlight and the nearly full moon made it easy to lead the horse back to the carriage, where Arden insisted on hitching up for Lydia, who was still nowhere to be seen. Lena guessed she might have run to the outhouse with some of the other girls.
Arden led the horse into position and backed him into the parallel shafts.
“Nice of you to do this for Lydia,” Lena said.
“I don’t mind.”
Not more than a half minute later, Lydia came rushing over. “Puh! I forgot where I parked the buggy!” She was laughing as she approached. “For pity’s sake.” Lydia continued to laugh, shaking her head as she went to step up into the driver’s seat.
Lena wondered how Lydia had gotten so lost.
“Well, have yourselves a fine week,” Arden said quickly. “Wunnerbaar-gut to see ya, Lena Rose.”
“Gut Nacht.” With that, Lena climbed into the buggy. It was later than usual after a Singing,
