The Crossroad by Beverly Lewis Page A

friend—here in Reading. Why, it was only a hop, skip, and jump down to Lancaster. ’Course, that would be silly to think he’d come see her, too. He had no way of knowing how very often she thought of him, how she remembered his well-chosen words, the way he seemed so taken with Annie … and with her, too.
    Lavina’s words jarred her back to the visit at hand, and she straightened in her chair, taking a deep breath. Oh, she hoped the red had gone from her cheeks, lest either woman discover her most guarded secret.
    “I hafta take all the blame for what was written on Gabe’s headstone,” Lavina was saying. “Poor fella couldn’t speak for himself … but he must’ve knowed how much ya loved ’im, Adele.”
    Rachel thought it right honest of Lavina, admitting her truest feelings to the woman whose heart was awful close to giving out. She, on the other hand, couldn’t begin to think of revealing her feelings. No, it wouldn’t be prudent for her to voice any interest in Philip. The correspondence was ongoing between Adele and him, and she could fully understand why the man had reached out to the kind and gentle woman. Ever so nurturing, Adele Herr was like a wise older relative to Philip. And Adele, in turn, had obviously found a dear friend, as well.
    She was truly happy for their friendship—anything to bring a little joy to a woman who’d lost so much early on in life.
    Still, Rachel wished she felt more at ease just hearing his name unexpectedly, let alone being told that he’d called Adele Herr and discussed “life questions.” Such comments made her truly long to know him better—even to see his face. But, of course, regainin’ her sight was a matter for the good Lord—and Him alone.

Eight

    Thursday, December 16
    Dear Philip,
    How are you? Keeping your head above water with your many assignments, I trust? You have my prayers, as always.
    It occurred to me that you might be pleased with an invitation for a visit here. I know you have family in New York, but it never hurts to ask. At any rate, we’re having a small informal get-together of sorts here on the night of Christmas. Several musicians are scheduled for the event, among them a string quartet of which I am quite fond. Another is an ensemble of singers. Sounds like fun.
    Please don’t feel pressured to make the trip. I don’t know your plans, of course, and at this late date, I would probably be fooling myself to think that there might be the slightest hope of seeing you during the celebration of our Lord’s birth. If, however, you are so inclined, you are certainly welcome!
    On another note, I had the nicest visit from Rachel Yoder and Lavina Troyer yesterday morning. They came bearing gifts, just as the wise men of old. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed seeing someone as much as I did Lavina. The woman is every bit as sweet and compassionate as she was back when she took me in years ago. She was quite friendly and talkative, in her own way, and I do believe she may have begun to forgive me for being Gabe’s first romantic choice. The way she smiled so at me—speaking of such things as her reason for adding my name to Gabe’s gravestone—did warm my old heart.
    Rachel Yoder, the dear, dear girl, brought a basketful of various home-baked items—sour cream chocolate cookies, sugar cookies, molasses drop cookies, date bars. Is your mouth watering? I do plan to pass the basket around at the Christmas party—yet another enticement for you to join me.
    I had no idea that Rachel’s blindness was due to trauma, and she mentioned the fact quite openly, I might add. Poor child, my heart goes out to her. But the good news is that she and her cousin in Ohio are “standing on the promises of God” for her healing. So Gabe’s grandniece is believing for her sight to return. Isn’t this the most wonderful news?
    Please, no matter where you spend it, you must have a very special Christmas. Know that I appreciate your friendship so much, dear