An Amish Homecoming

by Amy Clipston

  Sarah let her eyes drift to each of her children. All nine of them. She looked at Miriam and winked as she patted her stomach. “You just might get your wish.”

  Sarah and her mother and daughter smiled, each one surely remembering a time when life had been challenging. But God had taken those challenges and blessed Sarah and her family in more ways than they could have imagined. She thanked Him every day for the gift of family.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1.Barbara and Sarah bickered even before Sarah fled the community. Even though they were apart for six years, do you think the bond they have forged at the end would have been possible if they hadn’t been separated for so long? Would they have continued to argue and not get along? Was this part of God’s plan in the big picture, for the women to realize how important the mother/ daughter relationship is?

  2.As readers, I think we were all rooting for Abram to be Miriam’s father. Was there a point in the story where you doubted this and believed Jayden would be the father of Sarah’s child? If that had been the case, how do you think the situation would have played out? Would Abram have still raised Miriam as his own daughter? Would Sarah have told Jayden about Miriam?

  3.Barbara returned Sarah’s letters unopened in an effort to force Sarah back home. At the end of the story, Sarah’s mother regrets that decision. What do you think would have happened if Barbara had opened Sarah’s letters when they first arrived in her mailbox?

  4.If Abram hadn’t confessed his love for Sarah and didn’t want to give them a second chance, do you think Sarah would have still stayed in her Amish community?

  5.Out of all of the characters in the story, who could you relate to the most and why?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My continued thanks to my family and friends for walking alongside me on this amazing journey. Who could have imagined there would be this many books, lol?

  I’m so appreciative of my publishing team at HarperCollins Christian Fiction. Thanks for all you do to make my books the best they can be.

  To my assistant and dear friend, Janet Murphy, you’re always in the background, handling things that would likely not get done otherwise. You rock, and I love and appreciate you! ☺

  A big thank you to my awesome agent and friend, Natasha Kern. Glad we’re in this together! ☺

  And, as always, my heartfelt thanks to God for allowing me to create stories that I hope glorify Him as well as entertain readers.

  THE COURAGE TO LOVE

  SHELLEY SHEPARD GRAY

  To Annie Sturt. Thank you for all of your

  kindness and support. Irene’s story is for you!

  This is my command—be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.

  —JOSHUA 1:9 NLT

  Experience is a different teacher, giving you the test first and the lesson later.

  —AMISH PROVERB

  CHAPTER 1

  When was the last time she’d laughed so much? Irene Keim couldn’t remember.

  But maybe it didn’t matter anyway. Not really. All that mattered was that she was sitting at Mary Ruth and Henry Wengerd’s kitchen table playing Clue by candlelight. She was sipping hot spiced cider, listening to a roaring fire in the stone hearth, and enjoying a large platter of Rice Krispies treats she’d made herself. She made them even more special by adding creamy peanut butter to the marshmallow mixture and a layer of chocolate coating on top.

  So far, Henry had eaten four.

  He was also grinning from ear to ear. “Irene, you really don’t think that shady Mr. Green did it with the rope?”

  “Nee, Henry,” she said around another giggle. “Mary Ruth already told us she had Mr. Green’s card.”

  “Huh.”

  Mary Ruth, Henry’s wife of forty years, leaned back with a sigh. “No matter how much I try to get him to think like a detective, he doesn’t seem to make any progress.”

  Henry didn’t look fazed by the criticism one bit. “It’s gut that murder and mayhem ain’t in your life, then. Ain’t so?”

  Mary Ruth’s expression softened, and her pale skin turned a pretty peach color in the flickering glow of the fire. “Indeed.”

  When she rolled the dice again, then took her sweet time trying to decide which room to investigate next, Irene sipped her cider and took a moment to give thanks that murder and mayhem weren’t in her life either.

  However, the fact that they once had been still made her insides raw. Less than a year ago she was involved in a terrible situation with her best friend Alice. The father of one of Alice’s preschool students had threatened to shoot both Alice and Irene while they stood on a frozen pond. She’d never been so scared in her life.

  But even though that moment had been terrible, what kept Irene up at night was what had happened next. Her unexpected hero, West, an Englisher and most unsavory, had run onto the ice to save them. And he did indeed save them. But he lost his own life in the process.

  Irene didn’t think she’d ever be able to erase the image of him falling through the ice. She still woke up at least once a night gasping from the horror of it.

  After she recovered from the traumatic experience, she took a leave of absence from her waitressing job and went on a month-long Pioneer Trails bus trip out west. Mary Ruth and Henry were two of the many senior citizens on the trip. When they returned to Hart County, the couple asked Irene to move in with them in exchange for her help around their big farmhouse.

  Just ten days ago she’d moved in, very happy to have the opportunity to help them. But what she soon discovered was that they were helping her. It was evenings like this, playing a simple board game at the kitchen table, that soothed her like few things ever had. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was part of a family. And though she knew she would never actually be part of the Wengerd family, Irene was grateful for the chance to experience something other people had known since childhood.

  As memories of the hurt and neglect that had filled her life threatened to overtake her, she flinched. Her parents were dead now. They couldn’t hurt her anymore.

  “Your turn, Irene,” Henry prodded.

  “What? Oh, sorry.” She rolled the dice and moved three spaces.

  “You ain’t going to get very far with rolls like that,” Henry chided.

  “I’ll try to roll those dice better,” she replied with a smile.

  “Don’t worry about getting better. I’ve taken a shine to this game.” Henry got up and trotted to the counter. “And your cereal bars too.”

  “Henry, you put that down! Five Rice Krispies bars is four too many,” Mary Ruth said just as the kitchen door opened with a squeak and a burst of cool air.

  Irene froze . . . until she noticed that both of her landlords sent the newcomer happy smiles.

  “Marcus!” Mary Ruth exclaimed. “You’ve returned!”

  Irene watched as a man about her age enfolded Mary Ruth in a hug. “I was only gone two weeks, Mamm.”

  “It felt like a year. I missed your voice and your face too.”

  “Your mamm says that even when you’re gone for a day, Marcus.” Henry grasped his son’s hand. “She can’t help herself.”

  “I missed you both too.” He slipped off his jacket and hung it on a peg by the door.

  “Did you get a new horse?” Henry asked.

  “I did. A healthy, brawny Percheron.” Marcus looked as if he was going to share the details when he noticed her. “Ah. I see you have company.”

  Irene stood and felt the weight of the newcomer’s stare. Ill at ease, she forced herself to step forward and smile. “Hello. I’m Irene.”

  He smiled slightly. “Just Irene?”

  Mary Ruth playfully slapped a hand on his arm. “She’s Irene Keim, son.”

  “Irene Keim.” A line formed between his brows as he stared at her more intently. “I’m sorry. Have we met before?”

  “Nee.”

  Mary Ruth chuckled. “I know why t
he name sounds familiar. She’s the young woman Daed and I told you was on the bus trip. Don’tcha remember me telling you about our new friend?”

  He nodded, still gazing at Irene. “Ah. Of course. That must be it.” He sounded doubtful, though. “Sorry. I guess I assumed the woman was older.”

  Henry laughed. “You mean old like us.”

  He shook his head like he was used to his parents’ antics as he strode forward. “Nice to meet you. I’m Marcus Wengerd, these two old codgers’ son.”

  She shook his hand and was pleased when hers didn’t tremble. “Welcome home.”

  “Danke.” He dropped her hand, but he was now gazing at her with a warm expression. One that was more appreciative.

  At one time, she would have found a look like that exciting. It was always nice to know that a member of the opposite sex found her pretty. But now? It only made her uneasy. Would she ever trust herself again?

  “Where is your buggy?” Marcus asked. “I didn’t see one outside.” Before she could speak, he continued. “Or did you ride a bike? Do you live close by?”

  “Marcus, stop interrogating Irene and come sit down in the living room,” Mary Ruth said over her shoulder as she bustled around the kitchen. “Would you like some cider or a marshmallow treat?”

  “Jah. Sure.” He sat in the big, down-filled chair that was his father’s favorite. Henry often said the chair fit him like a glove and eased his old bones like little else.

  Irene never would have considered sitting in it. In fact, she found herself watching Henry warily, sure he would ask Marcus to move. But he didn’t. Instead he sat in the chair to the left, as if his son deserved to sit in his place of honor.

  After Marcus propped his feet on the ottoman, he gestured to the game that was still set out on the table. “Are you all playing a board game?”

  “It looks like it, don’t it?” Henry said dryly.

  “What game is it?”

  “Clue,” Irene answered. “Have you played it before?”

  “Nee.”

  “It’s great fun,” Mary Ruth said as she returned to the living room with a large stoneware mug filled with cider. She handed it to Marcus, then carefully took the biggest dessert bar, set it on a plate, and placed it on the table next to the easy chair.

  Looking eager, he took a big bite of the bar. After he swallowed, he smiled at her. “This is real gut, Mamm.”

  “Don’t compliment me. Compliment Irene. She made them.”

  “It’s tasty, Irene,” he said dutifully, though a spark of amusement lingered in his eyes.

  “Danke.” Irene smiled, a bit annoyed with him, though she couldn’t exactly say why. Well, other than he seemed to take his wonderful parents for granted.

  “Do you need a ride home?” he asked. “I’d be happy to drive you. It ain’t safe to walk anywhere in the dark.”

  When Irene looked at Mary Ruth, she cleared her throat. “Actually, son, something happened recently that we need to let you know about.”

  “Oh? What is that?”

  Not wanting to simply sit and be talked over, Irene said, “Your parents invited me to move in. I’m living here now.”

  “You’re what?”

  “She’s our boarder,” Mary Ruth said. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  He stared at her more intently and asked, “What was your last name again?”

  “It’s Keim. My nohma is Irene Keim.” She was irritated with him enough to pronounce it extremely slowly, like he didn’t understand English.

  Marcus stopped in mid-nod as a shocked expression settled on his face. “Wait a minute. Now I know where I’ve seen that name before. I read about you in The Budget.” Before she could respond, his voice turned more incredulous. “You were one of the women involved with that shooting, weren’t you?” Before she could respond, he added, “Some people said you were friends with that man who died.”

  Now feeling all three pairs of eyes on her, Irene swallowed hard. “You’re right, Marcus. I was there. And I was friends with the man who died.” She lifted her chin and practically dared him to back down. “West Powers saved my life before he drowned.”

  Marcus got to his feet. “Mamm, Daed, did you know about this?”

  Henry nodded. “We did. And now you do too. Sit back down.”

  He didn’t move an inch. “But don’t you think we ought to discuss this?”

  “There is nothing to talk about,” Mary Ruth said, her voice crisp. “Now, please. Sit back down and relax. You’re making Irene upset.”

  At last Marcus did what his mother asked, but it was obvious he wanted to discuss things further.

  Irene looked at her feet and tried to calm down. It was difficult, though, because she could feel the tension in the room.

  “You are letting your past taint the present, son,” Henry said.

  “This has nothing to do with Beth,” Marcus blurted before closing his eyes. After exhaling, he looked at Irene again. “I’m sorry for my outburst. I . . . well, I must be more tired than I thought.”

  “It’s all right,” Irene murmured, though she knew she was lying.

  She hadn’t appreciated his outburst at all. Honestly, it was as if all the joy she’d felt only thirty minutes earlier had evaporated and left the air in the room feeling almost brittle.

  Though it was selfish, she felt like glaring at Marcus. Why had he decided to visit his parents this very night? They’d been having such a good time.

  Then she remembered something West had once told her: Nobody’s past could remain a secret forever. It always came back to call.

  It seemed hers had picked that very evening to do so.

  CHAPTER 2

  As the flames continued to cast a soft glow through the room, Marcus covertly studied their newcomer. Irene Keim was pretty. She was slim and had blonde hair, blue eyes, and an adorable dimple in one of her cheeks.

  But she was more than that.

  She had the type of angelic features Marcus had always favored in a woman. Maybe because he farmed all day and was accustomed to hard work, he’d always dreamed of having a woman who was more delicate. She would be someone he could care for, who would soothe his mind and body with her sweet softness.

  Maybe even heal him.

  But, of course, he now knew that such fantasies were for fools. Angelic sweetness and delicacy were useless in the real world. A man needed a partner, not someone to coddle.

  Looks weren’t what was important either. He’d certainly learned that from Beth. She’d been lovely, but that loveliness had covered a deceitful character.

  No, what really mattered was a good heart. Qualities like honesty and compassion.

  As he recalled the rumors and the gossip that surrounded Irene after the incident at Floyd’s Pond, he feared she wasn’t nearly as sweet as his parents were making her out to be.

  He thought he remembered something about her coming from a broken home. She’d been a little wild during her rumspringa. Maybe she still was. After all, the newspaper had reported that her friend who died was the leader of some kind of illegal gang from the big city.

  Even if she was on the straight and narrow now, she didn’t seem like the best person to be living with his parents. They had always been far too trusting of others.

  He became even more worried and turned to them. “So you two are really okay with Irene’s past?”

  “Did we know that Irene here has been through a terrible tragedy and needed some comfort and kindness?” Daed asked, a new, disapproving tone tingeing his voice. “Jah, son. We did.”

  He loved that his parents were so giving, but he feared that made them vulnerable too. They were getting older. Maybe even a bit forgetful. “Daed. You should have talked to me before—”

  “Let’s all sit down and clear the air,” Mamm interrupted in that voice she’d perfected when he was young and sometimes argued.

  No longer wanting to sit in the living room, Marcus walked over to the table, pulled back the unoccupied chair,
and sat. His parents sat too.

  But Irene stayed where she was, her hands now gripping the back of the rocking chair by the fireplace. Almost like it was a lifeline. “I think maybe it would be best if I went up to my room, Mary Ruth. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “But we didn’t finish our game,” Mamm said.

  Irene darted a look his way before she faced his mother again. “I’m afraid it would be rude to finish it in front of your son. Plus, I think you all have some things to talk about.”

  His father’s expression softened. “You’re part of the family now, Irene. We can include you in the conversation.”

  Part of the family? Marcus barely stifled a groan.

  Irene heard. “Danke, but I don’t think that would be best,” she replied in a strained tone of voice. “I have to work early in the morning. I should probably get some sleep.”

  “You work?” he blurted. Inwardly, he winced. Even he could tell he sounded like a jerk.

  “Jah. I’m a waitress at Bill’s Diner,” Irene replied, her voice as strained as her posture. She didn’t add anything else, just looked as if she would rather eat nails than stay in his company another minute.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, dear,” his mother said.

  “Jah. Sleep well, Irene,” Daed added.

  Irene opened her mouth but didn’t speak. Just nodded before she walked toward the staircase.

  The three of them stayed silent as she made her way up the stairs.

  For a moment, Marcus felt a twinge of regret. He knew he’d been unforgivably rude, but he also knew he’d had no choice. Someone had to look out for his parents’ well-being, and that person was him. There was no one else.

  When she was safely out of earshot, he spoke. “You all really should have talked to me before you invited her into your home. I’ll do my best to see that she leaves as soon as possible.”