KISSING THE BISHOP’S DAUGHTER
“So you’ll marry some man you hardly know?” Elijah asked, hearing the edge in his own voice.
“Maybe,” she said.
“Don’t.” He sighed. “You’re better than that. You always were. Wait for the right man, the one who will love you properly.”
Tears rose in her eyes and she looked away. Her words were so quiet that he had to step closer still to catch them. “He wanted his food cooked like she used to cook it.... He wanted his shirts folded the way she used to fold them.” She wiped at her eyes. “I didn’t like coming second. Is that sinful of me?”
So he’d been right—Mervin wasn’t the saintly older man after all. He’d sensed it, somehow. Elijah stepped closer and slid a hand around her waist. What had she been through? Had she really been stationed under a dead woman’s shadow in her own home with her husband? What would that have done to her?
“You deserved better than him,” Elijah murmured.
“I was vain and stupid.” Her voice trembled. “I thought because I was young and . . . relatively attractive . . . that he would love me. I thought that I could be enough.”
“You are enough,” he retorted. “Sadie—”
She raised her gaze tentatively, and he dipped his head down, catching her lips with his.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and he pulled her against him in a slow kiss.
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The Bishop’s Daughter
PATRICIA JOHNS
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
KISSING THE BISHOP’S DAUGHTER
BOOK YOUR PLACE ON OUR WEBSITE AND MAKE THE READING CONNECTION!
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
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
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2019 by Patricia Johns
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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BOUQUET Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-4911-1
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4914-2 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4201-4914-8 (eBook)
Prologue
A fly bounced against the kitchen window as Sadie Hochstetler hung the gas lantern on a hook in the center of the ceiling. The morning was still dark, the days shortening on this end of August in Morinville, Indiana, but the outdoor early morning chill hadn’t done anything for the kitchen. It was still hot indoors. Sadie was up earlier than she usually rose for the day, and the rest of the family was still asleep—Mamm and Daet, her younger sister Rosmanda, and Sadie’s own three-year-old boy, Samuel, who slept in a little bed beside her own . . . for most of the night. He usually ended up crawling into hers sometime in the darkest hours, and she pretended not to notice.
Her son crawling into her bed couldn’t go on forever. She’d have to put a stop to it. But with her husband, Mervin, passed on, there was that vast empty space of clean white sheet next to her, and a little boy with rosebud lips and wispy blond curls whose daet had died before any of them even knew that Sadie was expecting.
Golden lamplight spilled over the kitchen tabletop that had been scrubbed down to a dull sheen. Sadie pushed open the window, waiting for a moment to see if she’d be rewarded with a puff of breeze. She wasn’t. The fly bounced twice more against the glass, and then escaped.
Sadie opened a cupboard and pulled a stool closer to let her reach the highest shelf. Deep at the back was a small tin box, and this was why she’d come down so early—sacrificing a few more minutes of sleep—to get a peek at the letters from her brother, Absolom, when she could read them alone. He’d been gone from them for nine years now, and she’d been left with only the memories of her brother’s lopsided grin and ready jokes behind Daet’s back. But he’d written over the years—a few times. Not often. Mamm’s letters outlining the church’s reasons for the Ordnung had mostly gone unanswered. Until a few months ago, when his letter arrived in the mailbox at the end of the drive.
Sadie pulled down the tin box and pried it open with a soft creak. She took the top letter, then glanced toward the ceiling, listening. There was still silence from above. She didn’t read these letters often, but some mornings she missed her brother more than others, and she’d come to see his words on paper, as if they could bring him back in some way. She opened the letter and scanned the now-familiar words . . .
Dear Mamm and Daet,
I know it’s been a long time since I wrote to you, and I wanted to tell you that I haven’t forgotten. I just didn’t know how to answer. But things have changed around here, and I wanted to tell you about it. You should know.
My girlfriend, Sharon, is pregnant. We haven’t been together all that long, but the baby is mine, and I’ve got to stand by her. I’m going to be a daet now. She’s due in August, and I’m real excited. I thought you should know that you’ll have another grandchild.
But this also means I can’t come back and join the church. I’m sure you can see that. Sharon wouldn’t make a good Amish wife. She’s not like our girls. She’s loud and fun and hates rules. It just couldn’t fit, and if I came home, I’d have to come back without her and the baby. I can’t do that. I’ve got to work and support her.
&nbs
p; We’ve moved to a different apartment, and we’re living together. So I’m going to give you my address, so you can reach me if you want to. I want to hear from you, but you’ve got to stop asking me to come back. It can’t happen.
I know I’ve disappointed you—especially you, Daet. I know I’m not what you wanted or hoped for in a son, but I’m doing my best here with the Englishers. And I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about that.
I miss you.
Absolom
It had been nine years now since Absolom had left home, and Sadie’s heart still ached at his absence. He’d missed so much—Sadie’s wedding, Samuel’s birth, Mervin’s death.... If he’d stayed, he’d have been married long ago, with a houseful of children and a smiling wife, just like their older brothers had. But he’d given it up for . . . what? A life with the Englishers, out there where the rules no longer applied, and life made no sense.
This being August, Absolom’s child would be born soon. If it hadn’t been born already. Would he write when the baby arrived? Or would he stay silent? Sadie wanted to know about Absolom’s child—if it were a boy or a girl, and if it resembled him at all. But Mamm and Daet hadn’t replied to that letter. It had sounded too final, and perhaps they’d seen the same thing Absolom had talked about—the impossibility of his return. He’d have to walk away from a father’s duties to do so, and while they hadn’t raised him well enough to stay Amish, they’d certainly raised him well enough to stand by his parental responsibilities. For what it was worth.
Sadie refolded the letter and returned it to the pile. She stretched to push the box into the back of the cupboard again just as the floorboards above her head creaked. That would be Mamm and Daet, up for the day. Mamm would join her in the kitchen preparing breakfast, and Daet would go out for morning chores. Rosmanda always had to be woken by Mamm with a tap on her bedroom door, and three-year-old Samuel would sleep another hour before Sadie went to fetch him for breakfast.
Sadie reached for the kindling and bent to start the fire in the belly of the stove. Babies, absent brothers, even dead husbands—they didn’t change anything. The day began the same way, with a fire in the stove and breakfast to cook. Solace was in the work.
Chapter One
Sadie looked out the window, watching as Daet trudged out toward the barn. She smoothed her hands over her apron, but her expression was grim. Daet wasn’t well. He’d been to the doctor in town, and he’d been diagnosed with a heart problem, prescribed several different bottles of medication, and told he needed to take a break. But Amish men didn’t take breaks—they worked, just like the women. Breaks felt sinful somehow, unless it was a Sunday, and Daet was both a farmer and the bishop of their local church. A break from one job meant time for the other. Besides, there were three hundred head of cattle getting ready for market, and the sale of those meat cows was a big chunk of yearly income.
Sadie, Mamm, and Rosmanda worked on breakfast. This was their domain, and while Sadie and Rosmanda had been helping out Daet with the cattle, he didn’t like having them forced into men’s labor. He was hiring a hand, he said. Someone to take care of the extra work until Sadie’s brothers and nephews would come to help with the haying.
“I wonder when Jonathan Yoder and Mary Beiler will finally get married,” Mamm commented.
“They aren’t that serious,” Rosmanda said as she filled a pot with water.
Sadie passed Mamm the corn meal for the fritters they’d soon be frying up. She glanced over at her sister. Rosmanda’s hair was rolled up underneath her white kapp, a single tendril falling loose down her neck.
“They’ve been courting for almost a year,” Sadie said with a short laugh. “That’s serious. Besides, the Beilers planted three extra rows of celery this year . . .”
Celery—the main ingredient for wedding soup. That was as much as Sadie could say without betraying her friendship to Mary. Jonathan had already proposed, and Daet would be announcing their banns in a matter of weeks.
“How many times did Mervin take you home from singing before he proposed?” Rosmanda asked.
“Four,” Sadie replied. “And I knew how to keep a secret until the banns.”
Rosmanda muttered something, and Sadie and her mother exchanged a look. While Mamm patted the corn dough into a soft patty, Sadie tossed some thick lard into the pan where it slowly melted into a puddle. What was with her sister’s moodiness over Jonathan and Mary? Their relationship was well known—those banns wouldn’t exactly be a shock.
“You’re not old enough to worry about eligible bachelors, Rosie,” Sadie teased. “Keep your eyes to the boys your own age. I don’t think Mary will be giving Jonathan up without a fight.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to have to marry an old man like you did,” Rosmanda snapped, and Sadie froze for a moment, the barb sinking in.
Old man. Yes, she’d thought the same at her age, but at twenty and having the Stoltfuz sisters with their blond hair and sparkling complexions as her competition, she wasn’t in a position to be choosy. Besides, like other farmers, Mervin had been in good shape—long limbs and tight muscle.
“He was a kind husband,” Mamm cut in. “Rosmanda, you could do far worse than a decent man like Mervin.”
“Kind?” Rosmanda turned. “He didn’t leave her anything!”
“He had grown children.” Sadie was tired of explaining this, pretending that it hadn’t cut her as deeply as it had when she’d seen the will. “And he did leave me some money. If he’d known I was pregnant—”
“You were his wife!” Rosmanda shook her head.
There had been a full farm, which he’d left to his youngest son, who’d been working the land with Mervin. The older boys had married and already gotten mortgages for their pieces of land farther away from the family. And then there was the boy who’d opened a woodworking shop in town for the tourists, and made a more regular income than his farming brothers.
“There were other considerations.” His children, who’d never quite accepted her.
“You deserved—” Rosmanda started.
“And you’re questioning a man’s authority,” Mamm snapped. “Watch your mouth, Rosmanda. Your sister married a good man who provided for her comfortably. A young widow can marry again. And a woman who can’t hold her tongue won’t get married at all.”
The thought of another marriage brought a heaviness to Sadie’s chest, though, and it wasn’t rooted in her love for her late husband. She knew how hard marriage was now that she’d experienced it, and a decent man and a woman who could cook might look like a successful match to the outside world, but Sadie had never been lonelier than in her marriage. She’d missed her parents and her sister, and while her husband’s grown children who had stayed in the area were kind to her, there was always an awkward distance. It wasn’t an easy family life to navigate.
“Enjoy this time,” Sadie said. “You’re under your father’s roof, and you’ll miss these days. I guarantee it.”
Even Absolom seemed to miss those simpler days before life became complicated and difficult. These times were not to be taken for granted. And Sadie was keeping her own advice. She couldn’t stay a burden to her parents forever, either, and she knew she’d have to get married again. It was the proper thing to do. But she’d miss this time, this rest between husbands. Maybe the next one could be younger . . . but a younger husband came with younger children from his first marriage, and she’d be raising a houseful of kinner that would never truly see her as their mamm. There’d be sidelong glances and insolent silences—anger at the one person they could blame because everything was heartbreakingly different.
Mamm passed the corn patties, and Sadie slipped them into the pan, the lard popping and spattering. She stepped back to avoid being burned. The women worked in silence for the next few minutes, getting breakfast finished and put on the table. And while she worked, Sadie attempted to tamp down the annoyance she felt toward her sister. So she was the example in life to avoid, was she? She wished
she felt more indignant, and a little less exposed. How much had Sadie let slip during her short marriage? How much of her unhappiness had been obvious to others?
They covered the dishes with lids and plates to keep them warm so that Daet would have a hot breakfast when he came back in. Sadie headed upstairs to get Samuel up, relieved to leave her sister behind her for a few minutes. Rosmanda was getting more and more irritable—which was normal enough at her age—but her barbs were too well aimed. Sadie wiped her hands on her apron as she climbed the staircase, and when she opened her bedroom door, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw her son lying spread eagle in the center of her bed, the sheet kicked off so that his little legs were bare to the morning cool.
“Sammie,” she said softly. “It’s time to get up.”
Samuel stirred, then blinked open his eyes. He yawned and blinked a few times more.
“Good morning, sugar,” she said with a smile. “Come on. We’ll get you dressed and wash your face. Are you hungry?”
Samuel nodded. “I want breakfast.”
“Me, too.” She grabbed his clothes that sat folded on a chair, waiting for the day. She peeled off his night shirt and had him dressed in no time. He used the chamber pot—little boys didn’t have the bladder control to make it out to the outhouse. She’d take care of this later when she made beds and cleaned the upstairs.
“Now let’s pray to start the day,” she said, and he obediently clasped his hands together. “Lord, we thank You for this day. Guide our steps and bless our ways. Amen.”
It was a simple prayer, and Samuel liked the rhyming. As a good mother, Sadie taught her son a simple faith—that there was right and there was wrong, and God blessed the righteous. Except Sadie knew that it was infinitely more complicated than that. It was possible to do everything right, to be a pillar of female virtue, and still not earn her own husband’s love . . .
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