by Emma Miller
An unexpected perfect match...
An Amish single mother with a secret past...
Searching for a fresh start at Christmastime.
Caught up in a scandal in her Amish community, Phoebe Miller moves to her cousin’s farm in Delaware hoping for forgiveness and a second chance. The last thing Phoebe expects is to slowly fall for bachelor Joshua Miller. But Joshua doesn’t know the secret that made her leave her old life behind. Can their blossoming love survive the truth?
“What was Ginger saying?” Joshua asked.
“She said not to let you monopolize all my time.”
He sighed. “And what did you say to that? Because I was...I was kind of hoping you’d let me walk around and introduce you.”
Phoebe pressed her lips together, not sure how to respond.
She met his gaze. “Do you have a girl?”
He shook his head.
She felt her heart give a little trip. “Sweet on someone?”
He tilted his head. “You could say that.”
Against her will, Phoebe felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment. She looked down at the grass at her feet. “Then you should go be with her.”
He was quiet so long that at last she looked up at him and found him studying her.
“I can’t,” he said very quietly.
She held his gaze, feeling a little light-headed. She remembered this feeling. She’d felt it in those early days and months when she and John had courted. She nibbled on her lower lip. “Why not?” she dared.
He hesitated, then shrugged. “Because I’m already with her.”
Emma Miller lives quietly in her old farmhouse in rural Delaware. Fortunate enough to have been born into a family of strong faith, she grew up on a dairy farm, surrounded by loving parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Emma was educated in local schools and once taught in an Amish schoolhouse. When she’s not caring for her large family, reading and writing are her favorite pastimes.
Books by Emma Miller
Love Inspired
The Amish Spinster’s Courtship
The Christmas Courtship
The Amish Matchmaker
A Match for Addy
A Husband for Mari
A Beau for Katie
A Love for Leah
A Groom for Ruby
A Man for Honor
Hannah’s Daughters
Courting Ruth
Miriam’s Heart
Anna’s Gift
Leah’s Choice
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
THE CHRISTMAS COURTSHIP
Emma Miller
For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.
—Matthew 6:14
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Her Amish Christmas Choice by Leigh Bale
Chapter One
Dover, Delaware
At the convenience store that served as the Greyhound bus station, Joshua held open the door for an Englisher. Dressed in a puffy white coat, the elderly woman stared up at him, her mouth agape, as she walked through the doorway. Maybe she wasn’t used to seeing an Amish man in a 7-Eleven, or maybe it was his Ray-Ban sunglasses that surprised her. He offered a half smile and removed them as he walked into the store.
He was looking for his stepmother’s cousin.
He’d seen the bus pull out as he’d secured his horse and buggy to a lighting pole in the parking lot. She had to be here. He scanned the aisles. He spotted a woman and a little boy getting milk from one of the cold cases, and a tall, slender man considering his candy selection. Just Englishers.
He exhaled impatiently. A trip to the bus station hadn’t been on his list of things to do that day. He’d had previous plans. He and his stepsister were supposed to get together this afternoon to talk about their idea of opening a greenhouse and garden shop the following spring. He’d been eager to finally sit down with Bay Laurel and get their ideas on paper. Instead, he was running errands for his stepmother, Rosemary.
Rosemary had married his widower father two years ago, and Joshua couldn’t have been happier. Joshua adored Rosemary and he’d do anything for her. Which was why he was at the bus station on a cold, blustery November day looking for a cousin who was supposed to be here. He didn’t even know what Phoebe looked like. He’d never met her. But how hard could it be to find an Amish woman in a 7-Eleven?
“Need something?” asked an enormous man from behind the checkout counter. He had a beard as long and bushy as any Amish elder’s.
Joshua glanced at the Englisher. “Looking for a girl.”
The man laughed from deep in his belly. “Aren’t we all.”
Joshua didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. He wasn’t offended; he just didn’t get Englisher humor sometimes. “An Amish girl. She should have gotten off the bus.” He pointed in the direction of the parking lot.
“Haven’t seen her.”
Joshua hooked his thumbs into his denim pants pockets and sighed with exasperation. He wasn’t sure what to do. He had no idea how to find out if Rosemary’s cousin had actually been on the bus or not. For all he knew, she could have changed her mind and never boarded in Pennsylvania. Apparently, her parents were sending Phoebe to Kent County because she’d been involved in some sort of scandal. Word was she’d have a better chance of finding a husband outside her hometown. Of course, among the Old Order Amish, asking for someone’s secret apple streusel recipe could be considered a scandal, so the idea that the poor girl was coming to them in disgrace didn’t hold much water with him.
Joshua stared at a display of potato chips in front of him, wondering if he should give his stepmother a call. They didn’t have a phone in their house. The Amish didn’t have telephones. It was one of the ways they held themselves apart from others. But his family did have a phone in his father’s harness shop. Most bishops allowed their congregants to have phones for their businesses as long as it wasn’t inside the home. Sadly, more and more Amish needed cell phones for work purposes because more Amish men were forced to work in the Englisher world for financial reasons. But those phones were never left on or carried in pants pockets. They were stowed in pantry drawers and more creative places. One of his neighbors stored his in his chicken house.
Joshua saw no point in calling the harness shop and relaying a message to Rosemary in the house because if the cousin had decided not to come, how would Rosemary know? From what his stepmother had said, Phoebe came from an extremely conservative Amish community in Pennsylvania. She certainly didn’t have a telephone.
Joshua glanced at the man at the cash register again.
He was wearing a camouflage T-shirt and pants, and a bright orange knit cap advertising some kind of sports drink. Despite the clothes, he didn’t look like much of a hunter.
“You sure you haven’t seen an Amish girl?” Joshua asked. “She would have come inside. It’s too cold to wait out there. Probably wearing a black bonnet and long black cloak,” he said, trying to jog the man’s memory.
The guy placed his meaty hands on the counter and leaned forwar
d. “Look, buddy, I haven’t seen any gal in prairie wear today. I know what your people look like. They come in once in a while.”
Debating what to do, Joshua watched the customer who’d been looking over the candy approach the register. He’d gone with the chocolate peanut butter cups. Joshua liked those, too.
A door opened in the back of the store and a woman’s voice caught his attention.
“Atch, you’re so welcome.” She had a Pennsylvania Deutsch lilt to her words. The language, which was equivalent to High German, was what his people spoke.
Joshua turned to see an Amish woman in a black bonnet and black floor-length wool cloak holding a baby bundled in a blanket. There was an Englisher woman with her who was wearing, over her head, a brightly colored scarf that covered her hair.
“I hope your father is here soon,” the Amish woman said to the other woman. Then she raised the little one in her arms and peered into his face. The baby looked to be about five or six months old. “Nice to meet you, Amir. Be a good boy for your mama.” She passed the baby to the Englisher.
“Phoebe?” Joshua called across the store. “Phoebe Miller?”
“Ya?” The Amish woman turned to him, seeming as surprised by Joshua as he was of her.
He’d had a picture in his mind of what Rosemary’s cousin would look like: a meek mouse of a girl, small, plump and plain, with dishwater-brown hair and maybe wire-frame spectacles. He supposed what Rosemary had said about her being sent away by her parents had brought him to those conclusions. But this Phoebe was neither plump nor plain. And she was no mouse of a girl. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, and pretty, with corn silk blond hair and startling blue eyes.
“Where were you?” he asked, walking toward her. His tone came out as curt, more because he was taken off guard by her appearance than because he was annoyed that he hadn’t been able to find her. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Phoebe turned to the young woman with the child and said something he couldn’t hear. The Englisher woman walked away, taking a different aisle toward the front of the store.
“Do you have a suitcase?” Joshua asked Phoebe. Now that he had found her, he was eager to get home. They had to stop at Byler’s on the way out of town to pick up some groceries for his stepmother. If he hurried, he might still have time to talk with Bay before it was time to feed up for the evening.
Phoebe picked up a large canvas duffel bag off the floor and walked toward him. “Who are you?”
“Joshua Miller.” He put out his hand to take her bag, but she pulled it out of his reach. “Rosemary Miller’s son.”
She narrowed her eyes, blue eyes with thick, dark lashes. “Her son is a little boy. Jesse,” she said suspiciously. “And then she has the babes,” she added.
He rolled his eyes, adjusting his wide-brimmed black hat to get a better look at her. That she was awfully pretty being his first conclusion. And spirited was his second. Again, not what he was expecting. It wasn’t his experience that Amish women her age questioned Amish men they didn’t know. “I’m Rosemary’s stepson. She married my father, Benjamin, two years ago. She would have come herself, but she just had surgery on her foot and she’s supposed to stay off it. My little brothers born to Rosemary are Josiah and James. Believe me now?”
“Maybe,” she retorted.
There was something about her tone of voice that nearly made him chuckle. “Anything else you’d like to quiz me on?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re Benjamin’s son, you say?”
“You know him?” He slid on his sunglasses, wishing he’d put on his good coat instead of the one he usually wore to the barn. This one had a tear on the sleeve. He hoped it didn’t smell like cow dung. He’d milked this morning with his twin brother, Jacob. There was something about the way she looked at him that made him want to impress her. Or at least not give a bad first impression.
“I don’t know Benjamin, but my mother knew who he was when Rosemary wrote to us to tell us she was remarrying.” Phoebe stood there in the convenience store aisle still gripping her bag, now with both hands.
“Are we related?” he asked. “You know, having the same name.” The moment the words came out of his mouth, he regretted them. Of course, she knew what he meant. He’d just introduced himself as Joshua Miller, and she knew who his father was. Of course, she knew they shared the same surname.
“Ne, we’re not related, just the same last name. Lots of Amish Millers.”
He nodded, strangely relieved that they weren’t related by blood. “We’ve got Millers in Hickory Grove we’re not related to. People are always getting my father confused with Al Miller,” he explained. He watched the woman with the baby walk down the aisle next to them. “You know her?” he asked quietly, nodding in the Englisher woman’s direction.
Phoebe glanced in the stranger’s direction, smiled and then looked back at him. “Met her on the bus. Her name is Daneen. She’s from New Jersey, come to Delaware to see her parents. I was just holding the baby for her while she washed her hands.”
It occurred to Joshua that some Amish girls might be uncomfortable helping out, or even speaking to someone who looked so different from them. Most Amish women had very little contact with Englishers...of any sort. He was impressed. And intrigued. And feeling a little out of sorts now because she seemed very worldly to him. Not in a bad way, just more experienced in life. And he was pretty certain she was older than he was.
He cleared his throat. “So, um...you think it’s safe to ride to Hickory Grove with me?” he asked. “Now that you know Rosemary must really have sent me.” He put his hand out for her bag again.
“I suppose so. But I can carry it myself.” She walked past him, headed for the door.
“See you found your girl,” the guy in the camo called to Joshua as he followed Phoebe past the checkout register.
Joshua put his head down and didn’t answer, but the thought went through his head... Maybe I have.
* * *
Phoebe stood behind the grocery cart watching Joshua place multiple boxes of cereal in the basket.
“I know this looks like a lot, but my brothers and I, we can eat.” He flashed her a grin as he put two more boxes into the cart. He was up to eight: three boxes of bran flakes with raisins, three boxes of wheat biscuits and two boxes of something with marshmallows. He’d said that his little stepbrother, Jesse, loved marshmallows. “My dat has five boys and one daughter. My sister’s married. She and her husband decided to stay in New York when we moved here two years ago. My twin, Jacob, and I are the youngest. All five of us boys live at home. Then there’s Rosemary’s children. Even with my stepsister Lovey married and living down the road, there are the four girls, then Jesse and the babies.” He tugged at the cart and she gave a push. “That means twelve of us at every meal, plus the two littles, and that’s if Lovey and her husband, Marshall, don’t come by, which they do all the time.” He chuckled. “We had to build a second kitchen table so we could all sit down to eat at the same time.”
Phoebe smiled to herself as he went on. Even though she knew she’d done the right thing in leaving Pennsylvania, she’d still been nervous about coming to Rosemary’s and meeting her extended family. She hadn’t seen her cousin in years, and then to come under these circumstances, it was more than a little overwhelming. And then when it wasn’t Rosemary who came to pick her up, but her son. Her stepson. That had really set Phoebe off-kilter. At the bus stop, Joshua had seemed annoyed with her, at least at first, because he couldn’t find her. But it had been the right thing to do, to hold Amir for Daneen while she used the ladies’ room. Phoebe knew what it was like to try to do day-to-day tasks with a baby in your arms all the time and no one to help you. And she’d only been in the ladies’ room for a few minutes.
Phoebe glanced at Joshua again. She had liked him at once. Despite his irritation with her back at the bus stop, h
e seemed to be good-natured.
He pulled the grocery cart forward and began to put bags of rolled oats into it. She’d never seen an Amish man grocery shop by himself before. Her stepfather had never stepped foot in a grocery store, let alone shopped on his own.
“...a lot of confusion the first few weeks after we arrived from New York, the twelve of us,” Joshua was saying. “Lovage didn’t come with us, straight off. She stayed to see her mother’s farm sold.” He’d been talking since they left the bus station. Which was fine with Phoebe because then she didn’t have to talk. Not talking meant not having to answer questions.
“But then we found our footing.” Joshua added some granola bars to the cart. “Hickory Grove is a nice place. I think you’ll like it. We do.”
She smiled at him as he went on. He was nice-looking, Rosemary’s stepson. Joshua was around Phoebe’s own age, maybe a little younger. He had reddish-brown hair that curled at the back of his neck beneath his black knit hat and a handsome face, with dark eyes and a strong brow. His face was clean-shaven, which meant he was unmarried. Which of course made sense since he still lived at home. She had known the man Rosemary had wed had children from his previous marriage, but she hadn’t known he had adult sons.
“Ne? Never been?” Joshua asked.
Phoebe looked up, realizing he had asked her a question. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
He gripped the end of the cart so they were looking at each other, her on one side, him on the other. He had nice hands: strong, with squared-off nails that were clean. “It’s all right,” he told her. “I talk too much.”
“It’s not that at all,” she said.
“Ne, I talk too much. Everyone in my family says so. I talk when I’m nervous and when I’m not. I talk when I’m happy and when I’m sad. When I was little my mother used to say that she put me to bed talking and I picked right up on the sentence come dawn the next day.”
Phoebe struggled to hide a smile. His cheerfulness lightened her heart. He made her hopeful that this move had been the right thing for her to do. “I’m enjoying hearing about your family,” she said. “It sounds like you all get along so well. Your father’s children and Rosemary’s. It can’t be easy making two families into one. It’s not as if you’re little ones.”
