A GOOD AMISH HEART
“One time, it was just Dat, me, and Levi camping, and Dat showed us all the biggest constellations. That was before he stopped loving me and before I stopped trying to make him love me.”
Linda couldn’t let that falsehood stand without a fight. “Of course your dat loves you. What a silly thing to say.”
He didn’t like it when she called him silly. She used the word purposefully in an attempt to light a fire under him. His anger was better than this self-inflicted hopelessness that he wore like a heavy winter coat.
He didn’t take the bait. Instead, he sighed and slid his arm off her shoulder. “I’ve done too many bad things for anyone to love me. I know what I am. Might as well accept it.”
Linda found herself getting angry at Ben’s lack of emotion. “Accept it? And then what? Go on living in this tiny little world you’ve created for yourself?” She grabbed his hand. “You are not worthless, Ben. You have so much love to give. I’ve seen how you treat Winnie and your mammi. You good-naturedly put up with my essential oils and my snowshoes and my teasing.”
“Not always so good-naturedly.”
“You’re fiercely loyal to Esther and Levi, and whether you want to admit it or not, you put yourself between me and that bear. You were more concerned for my life than your own. And no one who can sing like you can be all bad.” Her voice cracked into a thousand pieces, but she pressed forward because she had to make him understand. “And because . . . ach, I love you, Ben. It’s crazy and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I love you . . .”
Books by Jennifer Beckstrand
The Matchmakers of Huckleberry Hill
HUCKLEBERRY HILL
HUCKLEBERRY SUMMER
HUCKLEBERRY CHRISTMAS
HUCKLEBERRY SPRING
HUCKLEBERRY HARVEST
HUCKLEBERRY HEARTS
RETURN TO HUCKLEBERRY HILL
A COURTSHIP ON HUCKLEBERRY HILL
HOME ON HUCKLEBERRY HILL
The Honeybee Sisters
SWEET AS HONEY
A BEE IN HER BONNET
LIKE A BEE TO HONEY
The Petersheim Brothers
ANDREW
ABRAHAM
Amish Quiltmakers
THE AMISH QUILTMAKER’S
UNEXPECTED BABY
THE AMISH QUILTMAKER’S UNRULY IN-LAW
Anthologies
AN AMISH CHRISTMAS QUILT
THE AMISH CHRISTMAS KITCHEN
AMISH BRIDES
THE AMISH CHRISTMAS LETTERS
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
The Amish Quiltmaker’s Unruly In-Law
JENNIFER BECKSTRAND
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
A GOOD AMISH HEART
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2021 by Jennifer Beckstrand
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-5201-2
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5202-9 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4201-5202-5 (eBook)
Chapter One
Linda Eicher tightened her arm around her little sister, Nora, who was shivering uncontrollably. She rubbed her hand up and down Nora’s arm in an attempt to generate some heat so Nora’s teeth wouldn’t crack from chattering so hard. “Cold day, ain’t not?” she said, flashing Nora a grin.
Ten-year-old Nora sucked in her breath between her teeth. “We should move to Florida. There’s lots of Amish in Florida. That’s what Brittany Peeples says. And they never have bad weather.”
“There’s no such thing as bad weather,” Linda said. “Only the wrong clothes.”
Nora made a face. “What does that mean?”
“Sounds like a whole lot of nonsense,” Mamm said.
Dat glanced back at Nora from the front seat of the buggy. “Isn’t it nice to have a heater on days like this? The buggy will be warm in no time.”
Mamm, as rigid and unyielding as ever, folded her arms and stared out the front window. “In my day, the bishop didn’t allow buggy heaters or taillights. And that was in Wisconsin. You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen a Wisconsin winter. Isn’t that right, Tim?”
“That’s right, heartzley. That’s the very reason we moved to Colorado. Our children won’t freeze like icicles every time we take a ride in the buggy yet.”
Linda smiled to herself. Mamm sounded a hundred years old when she talked about how things were “in her day,” even though she was only forty-two. Mamm liked to reminisce about the good old days when they weren’t allowed to have battery-operated lights or LP gas stoves, but she was as happy as anybody not having to live that way anymore. When Linda was nine, her parents had followed a bishop and a group of Amish people from their more conservative community in Wisconsin to settle in Colorado, where the bishop and the elders had made the Ordnung strict but not suffocating. They were still considered Old Order Amish, but heaters in buggies and LP gas refrigerators were allowed. Such things made life easier, while still keeping their community separate from the world.
“I’m not cold,” Elmer Lee insisted, even though he clamped his arms around himself and leaned into Linda for warmth. At fourteen, Elmer Lee thought it was unmanly to be cold.
Linda put her arm around him anyway. Soon Elmer Lee would be a man and too old for a schwester’s affection. Elmer Lee grunted his disapproval but didn’t pull away. Linda cocked her head to one side. “Did you hear that?”
Over the rhythmic thud of horse hooves against a snow-packed road and the sound of buggy wheels rolling over the ground, there was a strange creak and a faint swish-swish coming from behind them.
“Hear what?” Dat said with a grin. “Is Elmer’s stomach rumbling?”
Linda frowned. “Something’s behind us.” She turned around and knelt on the bench so s
he could see out one of the tiny windows in the back. “Ach, du lieva,” she muttered. An Amish boy was gliding over the deep snow on the side of the road behind their buggy, holding tightly to two ends of a rope. He had somehow attached his rope to their buggy, and they were pulling him along at a pretty good clip. “Ach, du lieva,” Linda said again. “He’s hitched a ride.”
“What?”
“Someone is skiing behind our buggy.”
Elmer Lee knelt on the bench and peeked out the other window. “I think it’s Ben Kiem,” he said. “He’s not doing so gute.”
Of course it was Ben Kiem, either him or one of the other troublemakers in the gmayna he hung out with. Ben was indeed wobbly on those skis, as if he’d never skied a day in his life, which he probably hadn’t. Skiing wasn’t a popular Amish sport, though Linda was always trying to convince die youngie to try it.
Mamm opened her window and stuck her head out of the buggy, letting in a blast of frigid air that obliterated any wisp of warmth from the battery-operated heater. “Stop, Tim. Stop the buggy!” she yelled. “He’s going to die.”
Before Dat could stop, Ben met a three-foot-deep drift of snow, went airborne, and crashed spectacularly into a snowbank. Right before the crash, there was a creak and a metallic pop from the buggy. It wasn’t a heartening sound. Dat pulled on the reins and stopped Snapper in the middle of the road. Dat set the brake, and the family piled out of the buggy, except for Nora, who was more cold than she was curious.
Ignoring the body lying in the snow, Mamm bent over to look at the right-side taillight, which lay shattered on the road along with the bracket that held it to the buggy. It seemed Ben had looped his rope around the taillight and used that to hook himself to the buggy.
Linda and Elmer Lee went straight for the stupid boy lying in the snow, a twisted mess of arms and legs and skis. “You okay?” Elmer Lee said.
Ben lay on his back, gazing at the sky as if he’d been camped there for hours looking for cloud animals. His black church hat had stayed on his head the whole ride, but now it was caked with snow, and the brim had partially torn away from the cap. Breathing heavily, he tried to sit up, fell back, and grimaced.
“Are you hurt?” Linda said, holding out her hand to help him up.
“I’m fine,” was his curt reply. He ignored her hand and managed to sit up by himself.
“You broke our turn light,” Elmer said.
“A rock tripped me.”
Linda smiled, glad that he wasn’t seriously hurt and glad no one in her family was as dumm as Ben Kiem. “You’re a terrible skier.”
Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise and indignation. “Nobody asked you.” He tried to stand, but it was going to be almost impossible the way his rope was tangled around his skis and his skis were tangled around his legs.
“Elmer, can you untwist the rope?” Linda bent over to see what she could do about removing the skis from his feet. And burst out laughing. She laughed until it hurt and still she couldn’t stop.
The resentment grew like mold on Ben’s face. “What’s so funny?”
“These are water skis,” Linda stuttered between giggles. “You’re snow skiing with water skis. Oy, anyhow, you look silly.”
“I do not. I was just having some fun, and they worked fine.” Elmer pulled the ropes away, and Ben tried to stand, but the skis were just too cumbersome and slick for him to gain any traction.
Linda took hold of the tip of one water ski.
Ben jerked his foot back. “Go away.”
Linda blew air from between her lips. “Let me help you get those things off, or your hinnerdale is going to freeze. You don’t enjoy sitting in the snow, do you?”
He narrowed his eyes in her direction. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I only make fun of people when they deserve it, like when they do something deerich and immature and suffer the consequences. You have to admit you look wonderful funny.”
“Leave me alone,” Ben hissed. He made a feeble attempt to reach out and pull off one of his skis, but he couldn’t bend his leg close enough to get a good grip on the ski.
Linda sighed loudly. “Ach, don’t be such a baby. Elmer Lee, come on this side.” She wrapped both hands around the tip of Ben’s left ski and tugged firmly. Elmer Lee did the same with the right ski.
Ben gasped as the left water ski came off his foot, along with his black boot. Fortunately, his stocking stayed put, though he did have a rather large hole where the big toe stuck out. Elmer Lee managed to get the other ski off without removing Ben’s boot. Linda yanked the boot from the rubber toehold of the ski and handed it to Ben. He took it grudgingly and without looking at her, quickly put it back on his foot, and pushed himself from the ground. His church trousers were soaked, and his coat and mittens were caked with snow and ice. And his hat! Oh, dear. Linda couldn’t keep a giggle from tripping from her lips.
He turned on her as if she had attacked him with a knife. “What is so funny?”
She couldn’t speak without erupting with laughter, so she clapped her hand over her mouth and simply pointed to his head.
Elmer Lee still had the power of speech. “The brim of your hat is ripped.” It was literally hanging on to the crown by a thread.
Ben reached up, grabbed his hat by the crown, and snatched it off his head. The force of Ben’s tug was too much for the brim. It gave up its hold, ripped from the crown, and fell to the ground.
Elmer Lee and Linda burst into laughter. Ben’s face grew even redder. Linda felt a tiny bit bad about laughing, but Ben Kiem had gotten his just desserts. Besides, the more she tried to suppress her laughter, the worse it got.
He tossed what was left of his hat into the snow. “That’s not very Christian of you to laugh at me.”
She was sorely tempted to scold him, but he’d probably had enough of her disapproval for one day. “Don’t look so sour. A merry heart does gute like a medicine.”
Mamm walked toward Ben carrying the shards of their taillight in her outstretched hand. “You broke our buggy. And for sure and certain, you’re going to pay for it.”
Stiffly, Ben bent over and picked up his skis and his rope. “You should ask the man that made that buggy for you to pay. The taillight wasn’t attached securely.”
“Don’t blame other people for what you’ve wrought yourself,” Mamm said, shaking her finger at him as if he were a naughty toddler.
Ben took a step back and grunted. “Okay, okay. I’ll pay to have it fixed. You don’t have to get all worked up. I was only having some fun.”
Mamm wasn’t going to let him get away with that excuse. She never let anyone get away with anything if she could help it. “Fun at another person’s expense is selfishness.”
Ben shot a piercing look at Linda. “Or spite,” he muttered.
Linda raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t being spiteful when she’d laughed at him, was she? Mostly she was amused. And maybe a little bit smug that Ben Kiem hadn’t gotten away with his mischief making like he usually did.
Mamm pinned Ben with a withering stare. “Not only did you break our buggy, but you were skiing on the Sabbath. Sabbath breaking is a serious sin, Ben Kiem. Are you going to tell your dat or should I?”
Ben’s face seemed to lose all color. Ben’s dat was the bishop, and if there was anybody who shouldn’t break the Sabbath, it was the bishop’s son. But like a cornered wild animal, he decided to attack. “I’m in rumschpringe. I can make my own choices.”
Mamm shook her head. “Rumschpringe doesn’t give you leave to break the commandments. Best to confess your sin to your dat and face the consequences like a man.”
Ben paused and pressed his lips together, as if giving Mamm’s advice serious thought. Or maybe he was contemplating how much trouble he’d be in when his dat found out about what he’d done.
Linda didn’t feel quite so smug anymore. Maybe Ben really was sorry. And maybe she could try to make him feel better. “If you really want to ski, you need the right skis. Cros
s-country skis are best for . . .”
Ben scowled. “I don’t care.”
Okay then. She’d let him figure out his own skis.
Mamm frowned. “Skiing is folly, Linda. A waste of your money, if you ask me.”
Linda grinned at her mother. They’d had some version of this conversation more times than Linda could count. Worrying and fussing was how Mamm showed her love. “Now, Mamm, I need sunshine and fresh air. You can’t put a price on that.”
Mamm harrumphed. “Need fresh air? Milk the cow or feed the chickens. Don’t come crying to me if you get killed by a bear or drown in a river or fall off a cliff.”
Linda giggled. “If any of those things happen, I promise not to bother you with it.”
Mamm cracked a smile and waved her hand in Linda’s direction. “Ach, stop teasing me.”
Nora stuck her head out of the buggy. “It’s really getting cold in here.”
“Let’s go home,” Dat said. He put his arm around Elmer Lee and nudged him toward the buggy.
Mamm nodded as if everything had been settled to her satisfaction. “We will let you know how much it costs to fix the taillight. And you make certain you tell your dat what you’ve done today. Have a gute Sabbath.”
Ben probably wouldn’t have a gute Sabbath if he told his dat what he’d done, but Mamm probably hadn’t thought that through. Mamm, Dat, and Elmer Lee climbed into the buggy.
Without acknowledging Mamm’s gute wishes, Ben tucked his skis under one arm, turned away, and ambled down the road like a very old man.
“Wait,” Linda said, running after him. “Let us give you a ride back.”
“Nae, denki,” Ben said. “I’ll walk.”
She hadn’t expected him to say yes, but she’d done the right thing by asking. It was cold, he was soaking wet, and it was a long way back. He’d skied for at least a quarter mile.
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