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always gripped her, but today she had to look toward the window so Tilly wouldn’t see the tears welling up as the singer crooned.
    The first verse described her and Will’s courtship exactly. As the song continued, Ruth felt the old angst again, remembering all that went wrong between her and Wilmer Kauffman. Their special love had ended so abruptly. Out of necessity, Ruth reminded herself.
    Ruth had never understood why Will followed his friend Lloyd Blank to join the wild buddy group, the Jamborees. This had perplexed her, because she’d never known Will to be swayed by anyone. So many unanswered questions.
    Ruth had continued to scratch her head over Will’s choices, and she wondered now if he’d settled on a girl from that Amish “gang” for his bride. If he was already married, it was wrong for her to second-guess what had transpired between them. Or even to pine for him, if that’s what she was feeling while hearing this sad love song.
    To think she was going back home, where the risk of running into Will and any wife, and possibly a baby, was quite high. Oh, why hadn’t Ruth thought this through before pleading with Tilly to return?
    I must be a glutton for punishment, she thought, knowing her growing relationship with Jim should put Will far from her mind. Yet the feeling of melancholy lasted all the way to the turnoff to Strasburg and beyond.
    ———
    It was Tilly’s idea to drive directly to Uncle Abner’s, bypassing their father’s farmhouse. It made little sense, perhaps, but Tilly wasn’t ready to see her parents without the emotional cushion of more siblings.
    Ruth went along with the notion with some measure of uncertainty, ever concerned with good manners. “Hope this won’t add more fuel to the fire,” she told Tilly.
    At the small historic square at the intersection of Route 896 and 741, Ruth’s face lit up as she pointed out the creamery while they waited for the light to change. “I loved that old place, didn’t you?”
    “Plenty of happy memories there?” Tilly asked.
    Ruth nodded dreamily.
    Probably with Will Kauffman, Tilly surmised.
    “They have the best ice cream—the most varieties I’ve ever seen in one place,” Ruth said.
    Tilly’d had her own pleasant experiences there, too, with a couple young beaus before she’d decided she couldn’t live in Lancaster County any longer.
    Another world ago . . .
    The remaining portion of their trip was a short distance of only a few miles, and Tilly slowed as they approached White Oak Road where it intersected with May Post Office Road. It was still hard to believe that they were actually headed toward Eden Valley after all this time away from home. She was struck by the height of certain trees, as well as the additional homesthat had been built in the last eight years. And the brilliance of the red sugar maples.
    This was the road we took to the picnic that summertime morning . Tilly’s thoughts flew back to the day that had begun with such promise. Their English neighbors, the Eshlemans, had taken them in their large van to visit Mamm’s ailing aunt at Lancaster General Hospital early that morning. An off-Sunday from Preaching, Tilly recalled. After the hospital visit, they’d gone to Central Park in Lancaster around noon, having invited their neighbors to join them for a picnic—they wouldn’t have considered stopping at a restaurant on the Lord’s Day. The weather was warm and humid, and the hours following were filled with the sweet tastes of watermelon and other delicious treats—homemade root beer and nice cold meadow tea.
    There were long swings at the lovely park, and if you pumped hard enough and leaned way back, it seemed you could nearly touch the clouds with your bare feet. And there were seesaws, too—everything a child could enjoy against the backdrop of the beautiful Conestoga River.
    The river, thought Tilly, her shoulders tensing. So much was lost in the space of one dreadful afternoon.

Chapter 6
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