Liesbet jumped, and then turned on her sister. “You were spying on me?”
“It’s a good thing I saw you. Who is that man and what are you doing with him?”
Liesbet hugged herself and smiled at Hannah. “He’s my beau.”
“Your beau? You mean he’s courting you?”
“Of course he is. You were the one spying on us. Didn’t you see him kiss me?”
“Just because a man takes a kiss doesn’t mean he has courting on his mind.”
Liesbet waved her hand in the air to brush Hannah’s concerns away. “You’re just jealous because you’re not the only one with a secret beau. I know how you and Adam meet out here in the woods and your silly signal flag on the bushes.” Her voice gloated.
Hannah felt the blood drain from her face. “Adam’s not so secret, and he’s not my beau. We’ve known each other all our lives.”
“Ne, Adam’s not secret, but Daed doesn’t know he’s asked you to marry him.”
Hannah caught her lower lip between her teeth to keep herself from retorting to Liesbet’s accusation. Ja, Adam had spoken of marriage, but it was just a game they played. He wasn’t serious.
Liesbet’s smile set Hannah’s teeth on edge. “And I know I saw him kiss you the other day.”
Hannah felt her face heat up. Adam had stolen a kiss, one that had made her heart pound, but one kiss didn’t mean anything, did it?
“Surely you can’t compare that to what I just saw between you and that . . .”
“His name is George McIvey, and I’m going to marry him.”
“Liesbet, you can’t!”
“I am, and you can’t stop me. If you say anything to Daed, I’ll tell him all about how you and Adam have been sneaking around.” Liesbet lifted her chin as she faced Hannah. “I’ll tell Mamm too.”
“Liesbet, not Mamm. You’ll set her off on one of her spells,” Hannah protested, but Liesbet had won the argument. There was nothing she could do to stop her sister except give in to her demands, the way she had for the last nine years. Liesbet still played the delicate invalid, even though Hannah suspected she had outgrown the effects of the diphtheria long ago.
And she couldn’t have Liesbet spreading tales about their neighbor. It didn’t matter that Hannah was eighteen and well into courting age. Adam wasn’t Amish.
“Then you keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours,” Liesbet said.
Hannah hesitated. Liesbet smiled the way she always did when she knew she was getting her way, and her eyes glinted in the moonlight.
“But what if that man is dangerous? Can he be trusted? How long have you known him?”
A frown crossed Liesbet’s face, and then the moon disappeared behind another cloud and the clearing was shadowed once more. Hannah could barely see her sister’s silhouette against the darker trees behind her.
When Liesbet spoke, her voice was unsure. “I’ve known him long enough, and he’s never been anything but kind to me.”
“He isn’t one of us. He isn’t Amish.”
“He isn’t a backward Dutchman, you mean.” Liesbet’s voice was bitter, her uncertainty vanishing as quickly as it came.
Hannah gasped. “You better not let Daed hear you talk like that.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. But you can bet I won’t be marrying any stick-in-the-mud farmer, either.”
Hannah took a step toward her sister. “But, Liesbet, you’ll break Mamm’s heart . . . Promise me you won’t see him anymore.”
Liesbet shrugged, the movement only a rustle in the dark. “Whatever you want.” She turned and ran back toward the house, a shadow in the night.
Left alone in the clearing, Hannah wavered. Following Liesbet would be a waste with her sister’s harsh words ringing between them.
The wind blew another swirl of leaves along the floor of the clearing, propelling Hannah’s feet to action. Could she confide in Johanna? Ne, as much as she loved her best friend, she was too aware of Johanna’s loose tongue. Prone to gossip, that’s what she was, and this secret wouldn’t bear gossip.
Hannah followed the path along the creek bank toward the Metzlers’ farm, the path she had traveled often on a sunny afternoon, but never in the dark of night. Adam would know what to do. He would know if Liesbet was in danger from this George McIvey.
Skirting the family cemetery, Hannah glanced at the graves of her little sisters and brother, the small mounds covered with scattered leaves. Mamm would be out here tomorrow, clearing them off again.
The path led her down to a runlet that drained water from the fields into Conestoga Creek. She jumped over the mud at the bottom and struggled through the loose leaves up the other side. The neighbor’s farm, Adam’s family’s farm, was just ahead. The wind had blown the last of the lingering clouds away and the farm buildings stood silent in the evening, the stone corners sharp and clear in the moonlight.
Hannah paused at the edge of the creek bank where the trail led away from the trees toward the white frame house. Lanterns glowed in the windows, but should she dare knock on the door? It wasn’t late, even though the evening sky was covered in stars, but if she disturbed the family now, there would be questions.
As she watched, the barn door opened and Adam stood silhouetted against the lighted interior. He closed the door and disappeared into the shadows on the other side of the barn, away from the house. He must be feeding the cattle his father had put in the pen there, waiting for butchering day.
Hannah hurried around the back of the barn. For sure, there he was, throwing hay into the pen. She circled the split-rail fence and came toward him just as he landed the pitchfork into the haystack one more time. The breeze pulled at his black coat, hanging unbuttoned and loose on his tall frame, but his broad-brimmed hat stayed securely on his head.
He saw her coming and rested the fork’s tines on the ground. “Isn’t it a bit late for
