by Amy Clipston
Laurel held her breath as anticipation gripped her.
“Laurel, would you marry me?”
Laurel could barely speak, but she squeaked out a yes. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I would be honored,” she said, pulling back and meeting his warm gaze.
“Gut.” He leaned over and kissed her, sending happiness buzzing through her like a honeybee. “We can make a home wherever you’d like. We can live here or we can go back to Pennsylvania. As long as I’m with you, I’ll feel like I’m home. You gave up everything when you came here, and I’m willing to make that same sacrifice for you, Laurel. I love you, and my future is with you.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder and smiled. “I love you too. At first I was afraid to leave my family, but I feel the same way you do—I believe in my heart that I belong here with you. I feel like I’m home when I’m with you, no matter where we live. And I know that I will still have my family in my life through letters, phone calls, and yearly visits.”
“I’m so froh to hear you say that, but if the Lord leads us down a new path, I’m willing to go wherever he leads us.”
“Danki.” When she saw something white and fluffy twirl through the air, she sat up. “Look! It’s snowing!” She stood and walked to the edge of the porch as snow began to fall like pretty glitter.
“Look at that.” Glen rubbed her back. “Your first Colorado snow.”
She looked up. “I can’t wait to experience more Colorado snow.”
Glen pulled her into his arms for a hug, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she silently thanked God for leading her to Colorado. She couldn’t wait to see what God had in store for their love and the rest of their lives.
Acknowledgments
As always, I’m thankful for my loving family, including my mother, Lola Goebelbecker; my husband, Joe; and my sons, Zac and Matt.
Thank you to my mother and my dear friend Maggie Halpin who graciously read the draft of this book to check for typos. I’m also thankful for my special Amish friend who patiently answers my endless stream of questions. I’m grateful for the story she shared that inspired this story.
Thank you to my wonderful church family at Morning Star Lutheran in Matthews, North Carolina, for your encouragement, prayers, love, and friendship. You all mean so much to my family and me.
Thank you to Zac Weikal and the fabulous members of my Bakery Bunch! I’m so grateful for your friendship and your excitement about my books. You all are awesome!
To my agent, Natasha Kern—I can’t thank you enough for your guidance, advice, and friendship. You are a tremendous blessing in my life.
Thank you to my amazing editor, Jocelyn Bailey, for your friendship and guidance. I’m grateful to each and every person at HarperCollins Christian Publishing who helped make this book a reality.
Thank you to editor Becky Philpott for polishing the story and connecting the dots. I’m so grateful that we are working together again!
Thank you most of all to God—for giving me the inspiration and the words to glorify you. I’m grateful and humbled you’ve chosen this path for me.
Discussion Questions
Laurel traveled from Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania, to Monte Vista, Colorado, for a teaching job. What do you think of her decision to move across the country to serve as a teacher?
Glen is devastated when he finds out his mother and sister hurt Laurel’s feelings. What do you think about his mother and sister and what they said about his relationship with Laurel?
Rena had the students in the schoolhouse draw pictures to represent what they love about Colorado as a way to try to convince Laurel to stay. How do you think the pictures made Laurel feel about her decision to leave?
Glen is furious with his mother despite her effort to apologize to him for hurting Laurel. Did you think he was right when he told her to fix what she’d done to ruin his relationship with Laurel?
Which character can you identify with the most? Which character seemed to carry the most emotional stake in the story? Was it Laurel, Glen, or someone else?
At the end of the story, Laurel decides to give Glen’s family and the community another chance. What do you think made her change her mind about leaving?
Dedication
To James. I love you.
Chapter 1
I never thought I’d be back here again.
Priscilla Helmuth stared at the Wagler’s Buggy Shop sign in front of her, lost in her thoughts. When she returned to the Amish last year, she’d expected to spend the rest of her days in Shipshewana, her hometown. But here she was, in tiny Marigold, Ohio, ready to buy a buggy. Marigold was home to fifty people, all Amish. Quite a difference from Shipshe, and a world apart from her former life. But she knew better than anyone that the best laid plans didn’t work out. God had a way of seeing to that.
Glancing to the right, she saw two buggies parked on the side of the large workshop. The doors were wide open, but she didn’t see anyone inside. Hopefully one or both of the buggies were for sale. If they weren’t, she would have to ask the guy who owned the shop where she could buy a used one. She couldn’t afford to buy a brand-new buggy.
She tugged on one of the strings of her white prayer kapp. There was a time she never thought she would wear a kapp again, or a calf-length dress like the lavender one she had on now. Although it had been six months since she left Nashville and returned to her Amish roots, she still thought about her English clothes from time to time. She had loved jeans, high heels, crop tops, red lipstick, and highlighting her light-brown hair with streaks of blonde. Now the only two pairs of shoes she had were black tennis shoes and black winter boots, and she hadn’t worn lipstick since she went back to Shipshe.
“Hi.” A man’s voice, low and pleasant sounding, brought her out of her thoughts. He was approaching her from around the back of the shop. He wiped his hands on a rag, then stuffed the corner of the cloth into the back waistband of his broadfall pants. “Can I help you?”
Priscilla stilled, then nodded. Wow, he was a handsome guy. Blond hair and blue eyes had always been her weakness, whether she was Amish or English. But that wasn’t the only thing that drew her attention. He was big, at least half a foot taller than her, and had a body the size of a football player, thick and well muscled. He also looked like he ate well, which added to his attractiveness. She appreciated a man with a big appetite.
She brought her thoughts up short. What was she doing, admiring this man? She was thirty-five years old, and he looked to be several years younger. Not only was she old but she had also newly returned to her faith. Her old maid status was a given. Besides, someone as good-looking as him had to be taken already. He was clean-shaven, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a girlfriend, or even a fiancé.
He tilted his head and caught her gaze. “Did you need something?”
Her face warmed, and not only because of the afternoon summer heat. She had to look like a fool standing here staring at him like this. “I’d like to purchase a buggy. A used buggy, that is.”
“All right. I happen to have one available.” He pointed to one of the two near the shop. “Would you like to take a look at it?”
She nodded and followed him to the vehicle. Now that she saw it up close, she realized it was in rough shape. The wheels were warped, the body needed to be replaced, and the doors were dented in.
“I rehab old buggies,” he said, giving it an affectionate pat. “Don’t worry about what it looks like now. It won’t take long to fix her up gut as new.”
“Mei horse is due to arrive in two weeks.” She had purchased the retired racehorse at an auction in Holmes County when she first arrived in Marigold, and she made a deal with the owner to board him until she built a barn and bought a buggy. She hadn’t made any progress finding someone to build the barn, but hopefully she could make a deal with this man concerning the buggy.
“That’s nee problem. I can get this finished in a week, tops.”
; Priscilla liked his confidence. “How much will it cost?”
“How does four thousand sound?”
It sounded like a lot, but she knew she was getting a good deal. A new buggy would cost twice that or more, so she couldn’t be choosy. “I’ll take it.”
“Great.” He gestured to the plain white house behind him. “We can geh to mei office and discuss the details.”
Her good feelings about him shifted. “That looks like a residence.”
“It is. I keep mei office in there, too, right up front near the door. That way I can use up every bit of shop space.”
She hesitated, her self-preservation kicking in. Then she reminded herself that she wasn’t in a cutthroat city anymore, and this man was Amish, and what he was saying made sense. The likelihood of him taking advantage of her was basically zero. She relaxed, sensing she could trust him.
A warm summer breeze kicked up, but it offered little relief from the August heat. She thought she had acclimated to hot and humid weather during her time in Tennessee, but she’d forgotten that there were days in Ohio that rivaled the muggiest southern summer weather.
“Come on inside and you can tell me what you want done to the buggy.” He started walking toward the house. “Mei name is Micah, by the way.”
She quickly followed, pushing her musings as far away as she could. “I’m Priscilla,” she said, then added, “Helmuth.”
“Wagler’s mei last name.” He grinned and opened the screen door. “I guess you already knew that. Name’s on the sign.” He held open the door for her. “Office is to the left.”
She walked inside, surprised to catch the scent of a homecooked meal in what appeared to be a bachelor’s home. The front room was obviously a living area, and to the left was a nondescript desk and a chair.
He inched past her and picked up a spiral-bound steno pad from the desk, then took the pencil from behind his ear. The pencil and pad looked small in his brawny hands. “That buggy is a two-seater. I could make it a four-seater for the same price if you need me to.”
“Two only.”
“Two it is.”
The rest of the ordering process was straightforward since Priscilla had found out when she arrived here that all the buggies in Ohio were the same no matter what district a person lived in. Micah wrote down the list of everything he would do to refurbish and upgrade the buggy, including a warm, plush blanket for extra cold days. “I can upholster the seat in the same color as the blanket,” he said. “Some folks like things to match.”
“No upholstery,” she said. That would be extra, and right now she couldn’t afford anything other than the basic model. She almost laughed, remembering some of the fancy cars she had ridden in, and now she was purchasing a simple, used buggy. For some that might be considered a step back. More like a step in the right direction.
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Are you sure it will be ready in a week? I don’t know much about buggy repair or restoration, but it looks in bad shape to me.”
“You’re right about that. The old girl is in a sad state right now. But I’ll have it done. Things are slow at the moment. That’s kind of how things geh around here. Business, like life, ebbs and flows.”
“That it does,” she said, noticing he sounded more like an old sage than a young man.
“Do you live nearby?” He scribbled one last thing on the paper before tearing it off the pad.
“I just moved to Marigold last week.”
Micah handed her the slip. “I didn’t think I recognized you. Welcome to Marigold. We’re small, but we’re . . . well, small.” He grinned again.
She couldn’t help but chuckle as she looked down at the four-thousand-dollar amount he’d written down, along with all the buggy specifications they’d discussed. “Danki,” she said, looking up at him again. Attraction hit her harder than it had when she first laid eyes on him. She’d been around a lot of good-looking English men during the fifteen years she lived in Nashville. She’d even gone out with a few, but those dates had never gone anywhere. That was partly due to her focus on her dream. Dating only got in the way of that. But none of the men she’d met had ever brought out the butterflies in her stomach the way Micah was. Focus on the buggy, not on him. She wasn’t in Marigold to find a man, no matter how kind and handsome he was.
Priscilla tapped on the receipt, shifting her thoughts to the matter at hand instead of . . . never mind. “Your price is very reasonable.”
“That’s how I stay in business.” He smiled again.
The fluttering intensified, and she knew she had to get out of here before she said something stupid, like ask him if he was single. She was supposed to be getting her ducks in a row, not hitting on the buggy maker. “See you in a week then.”
“Oh, I forgot.” He picked up the pad again. “How do I get in touch with you and let you know the buggy is done? Sometimes I finish them early.”
Priscilla told him her address. She had used what was left of her savings to buy a tiny house that was once owned by an English family, and last week she removed most of the electrical herself, thanks to getting a book from the local library two towns over that showed her how to be an amateur electrician. She was pretty proud of herself for accomplishing that. Then she had to check herself. Humility was the goal, not pride. A total reversal of her life in the English world.
“You don’t live too far from here,” he said. “Glad you didn’t have a long walk.” Then he paused. “It’s almost quitting time. I can give you a ride home if you need one.”
She almost dropped the paper in her hand. She couldn’t believe he was offering to take her home. The distance was hardly worth the trouble of hitching up a buggy. What a good guy. “I don’t mind walking. The weather is nice.”
“It sure is. Pretty hot, though.” He walked over to the screen door and opened it. “Don’t worry. I’ll get that buggy done as soon as I can.”
“I appreciate it.” She walked through the door and into the small gravel parking lot. She resisted looking behind her to see where he was, annoyed that it mattered to her. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a lot of things to keep her occupied, like a new house and a new job. Hopefully soon she’d have a new barn for her new horse and buggy. She needed to focus on her new life, not the buggy maker. Priorities, Priscilla. Priorities.
* * *
Micah stood in front of his house and watched Priscilla walk away. Strange, since he normally didn’t do that when customers left his parking lot. Then again, he didn’t have too much to do today. Business had been down to a crawl lately. Not surprising, considering he had just come off a busy time over the past three months, enough that he had to hire temporary help. Fortunately, there were a few young teenage kids in the district who were eager to learn something new while picking up a little extra cash. That alleviated any guilt he had for laying them off when things slowed down. His latest helper, Christopher, had just finished eighth grade. Micah wished he could have kept him on, but the business just wasn’t there. He was pleased to find out Christopher got another job quickly after Micah let him go.
Although he’d lived in Marigold a little over three years, some of Micah’s family and friends still questioned the wisdom of his decision to leave Lancaster and live in this tiny community no one knew about in Knox County. He told them what he believed—he wouldn’t be here if God didn’t want him here. Owning his own buggy shop had been his dream since he was sixteen and worked as an apprentice in his great-uncle’s business. But he’d always known he couldn’t open a shop in Lancaster due to the competition. Instead he trusted that God would lead him to the right district, so much so he had closed his eyes and pushed a pin in a map of Ohio, vowing to go wherever the pin stuck. Three years later, he still had no regrets.
Not that owning his own business was always easy, but he was careful with his money during the busy times so he would have margin during the slow ones. Now that he wasn’t swamped with work, he was free to help the communit
y build the new schoolhouse. That’s where he would be this Saturday, when all the available able-bodied men would help build the school.
I wonder what Priscilla’s doing on Saturday . . .
He gave his head a hard shake. Where had that come from? Sure, she was a nice-looking woman, but so were a lot of the women he knew. He appreciated her directness, and that she knew exactly what she wanted when she ordered the buggy. She carried herself gracefully. He also thought her eyes were pretty. They were an unusual shade of light green, a color he hadn’t seen before. He could tell she was older, probably in her thirties if he had to guess.
He shrugged and went back to the shop. The only thing he needed to think about concerning Priscilla was rehabbing her buggy to the best of his ability, as he did for all his customers.
Half an hour later, Micah went inside his house and headed straight for the kitchen. The pot of chili he’d made right before Priscilla showed up was simmering nicely on the stove, and he quickly whipped up a batch of cornbread and put the pan in the oven. Then he sat down at the table, stretched out his legs, and—unbelievably—thought of her again.
But this time he knew why she came to mind. Although he was twenty-five and had lived on his own for three years, he’d never had a problem feeling lonely until recently. He couldn’t pinpoint why he felt that way, but he chalked some of it up to not being as busy as he normally was when business was bustling. Usually after work he had only enough energy to make himself supper, read the newspaper while he ate, and then hit the hay. But for the last two months or so, even though he had been busy, being in this empty house was getting to him. He had even thought about getting a dog for company, which was a huge deal because he was allergic to pet dander. That could be fixed with a little antihistamine. There wasn’t such an easy solution to his loneliness.
