focus her thoughts. This involved stepping toward him and placing her hand on his arm. It also involved smiling at him with all the richness and depth that was inside her and, at that moment, burning through her blood.
“Well, if she’s truly that beautiful,” she told him in a quiet voice, “then I would throw all caution to the wind and I would call. Yes,Nathaniel King, if I were in your shoes, that’s what I would do. And this time, considering the strength of your feelings, you might contemplate bringing roses instead of snapdragons, lovely as snapdragons are. The only flower I can think of that goes with the sorts of things you are saying to a woman are roses, whether that woman is Amish or not.”
5
“B ishop Keim! Bishop Keim! They have shelled Fort Sumter and the commander of the fort has surrendered!”
Lyndel was up in her room letting her sister Becky comb out her long red hair when Joshua Yoder drove up to their barn shouting and calling her father’s name. She and Becky ran to the window and looked down as their father came quickly from behind the house where he had been piling firewood.
“What is this hollering about, Mr. Yoder?” he demanded. “Calm yourself.”
It seemed to Lyndel that Joshua practically stood to attention before her father. “The South bombarded the fort in Charleston Harbor, sir. It surrendered last Saturday on the 13th. President Lincoln called for 75,000 troops to put down the rebellion, and when Virginia got word of it their government took a vote and they seceded from the Union yesterday.”
“I knew about the surrender, young man—may God help us—everyone knew about it by Monday. But I have not heard about the call to arms or Virginia’s secession.”
“We’ve been too busy with spring planting and our own affairs but all Elizabethtown is buzzing. I have papers here from Boston and Philadelphia and, look, the Daily Dispatch from Richmond for Wednesday the 17th. They say more states will be joining the Confederacy.”
Lyndel watched her father take the papers from Joshua’s hands. A coldness came into her arms and chest. She had hoped the fort’ssurrender would be the end of it, that people would realize things had gotten out of hand and wiser men would put a stop to further violence. But now the president was calling up militia. Why would he do that unless he expected a battle? She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the windowpane.
“What’s the matter, Lyndy?” asked Becky. “Do you feel sick?”
“Yes, I do a little.”
“Do you want me to get Mama?”
Lyndel pulled her head away from the glass. “Thank you, Becky, but this is not something mother’s medicines can fix.”
“Can Nathaniel help?” Becky smiled a quick little smile. “I know he’s coming again tonight.”
“Oh, Becky, it doesn’t take a great talent to figure that out. He has dropped by almost every evening for the past two weeks.”
“And not to see Levi either.”
“No? He and Levi went out in the wagon two nights ago.”
“Once. You have been out in the buggy four times with Nathaniel.”
Lyndel reached down and messed her sister’s hair. “Who’s counting?”
“ I’m counting.”
“So who taught you to count? Stop going to school.”
The first time Nathaniel had come to call, the day after the funeral and their walk in the hayfield, he had indeed brought her the roses she’d asked for, holding them behind his back. She had protested she had just been teasing him and hadn’t really wanted expensive flowers—the Amish community would look down on such an extravagant gift. Then he had brought them out from hiding and she saw they were young wild roses, very pink, very small, half of the bouquet still buds.
“They are not so much, I guess,” he’d told her.
But Lyndel had been as ecstatic as a ten-year-old girl with a sweetheart, even rushing the flowers to her mother who was working in the kitchen. “Mama, look, Nathaniel has brought
“Well, if she’s truly that beautiful,” she told him in a quiet voice, “then I would throw all caution to the wind and I would call. Yes,Nathaniel King, if I were in your shoes, that’s what I would do. And this time, considering the strength of your feelings, you might contemplate bringing roses instead of snapdragons, lovely as snapdragons are. The only flower I can think of that goes with the sorts of things you are saying to a woman are roses, whether that woman is Amish or not.”
5
“B ishop Keim! Bishop Keim! They have shelled Fort Sumter and the commander of the fort has surrendered!”
Lyndel was up in her room letting her sister Becky comb out her long red hair when Joshua Yoder drove up to their barn shouting and calling her father’s name. She and Becky ran to the window and looked down as their father came quickly from behind the house where he had been piling firewood.
“What is this hollering about, Mr. Yoder?” he demanded. “Calm yourself.”
It seemed to Lyndel that Joshua practically stood to attention before her father. “The South bombarded the fort in Charleston Harbor, sir. It surrendered last Saturday on the 13th. President Lincoln called for 75,000 troops to put down the rebellion, and when Virginia got word of it their government took a vote and they seceded from the Union yesterday.”
“I knew about the surrender, young man—may God help us—everyone knew about it by Monday. But I have not heard about the call to arms or Virginia’s secession.”
“We’ve been too busy with spring planting and our own affairs but all Elizabethtown is buzzing. I have papers here from Boston and Philadelphia and, look, the Daily Dispatch from Richmond for Wednesday the 17th. They say more states will be joining the Confederacy.”
Lyndel watched her father take the papers from Joshua’s hands. A coldness came into her arms and chest. She had hoped the fort’ssurrender would be the end of it, that people would realize things had gotten out of hand and wiser men would put a stop to further violence. But now the president was calling up militia. Why would he do that unless he expected a battle? She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the windowpane.
“What’s the matter, Lyndy?” asked Becky. “Do you feel sick?”
“Yes, I do a little.”
“Do you want me to get Mama?”
Lyndel pulled her head away from the glass. “Thank you, Becky, but this is not something mother’s medicines can fix.”
“Can Nathaniel help?” Becky smiled a quick little smile. “I know he’s coming again tonight.”
“Oh, Becky, it doesn’t take a great talent to figure that out. He has dropped by almost every evening for the past two weeks.”
“And not to see Levi either.”
“No? He and Levi went out in the wagon two nights ago.”
“Once. You have been out in the buggy four times with Nathaniel.”
Lyndel reached down and messed her sister’s hair. “Who’s counting?”
“ I’m counting.”
“So who taught you to count? Stop going to school.”
The first time Nathaniel had come to call, the day after the funeral and their walk in the hayfield, he had indeed brought her the roses she’d asked for, holding them behind his back. She had protested she had just been teasing him and hadn’t really wanted expensive flowers—the Amish community would look down on such an extravagant gift. Then he had brought them out from hiding and she saw they were young wild roses, very pink, very small, half of the bouquet still buds.
“They are not so much, I guess,” he’d told her.
But Lyndel had been as ecstatic as a ten-year-old girl with a sweetheart, even rushing the flowers to her mother who was working in the kitchen. “Mama, look, Nathaniel has brought
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