Books by Vannetta Chapman
PLAIN AND SIMPLE MIRACLES
Brian’s Choice
(ebook-only novella prequel)
Anna’s Healing
Joshua’s Mission
Sarah’s Orphans
THE PEBBLE CREEK AMISH SERIES
A Promise for Miriam
A Home for Lydia
A Wedding for Julia
“Home to Pebble Creek” (free short story e-romance)
“Christmas at Pebble Creek” (free short story e-romance)
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Scripture quotations are taken from
The Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
The New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Cover by Koechel Peterson & Associates
Cover photos © Bas Meelker, ArtBitz, Plume Photography / Shutterstock
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SARAH’S ORPHANS
Copyright © 2016 by Vannetta Chapman
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
ISBN 978-0-7369-5607-9 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5608-6 (eBook)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Chapman, Vannetta, author.
Title: Sarah’s orphans / Vannetta Chapman.
Description: Eugene Oregon: Harvest House Publishers, [2016] | Series: Plain and simple miracles; book 3 | Description based on print version record and CIP data provided by publisher; resource not viewed.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016009186 (print) | LCCN 2016006006 (ebook) | ISBN 9780736956086 () | ISBN 9780736956079 (softcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Amish—Fiction. | GSAFD: Christian fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3603.H3744 (print) | LCC PS3603.H3744 S27 2016 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016009186
All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s and publisher’s rights is strictly prohibited.
Dedication
For my friends,
Bill and Connie Voigt
Contents
Books by Vannetta Chapman
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Author’s Note
Discussion Questions
Recipes
Glossary
About the Author
When Tragedy Arrives…Forgiveness Brings Healing
When Disaster Strikes…Hope and Love Rise to Meet It
When Loss Seems Overwhelming…Grace Ushers in Peace
Fall in Love with the Amish of Pebble Creek!
Enjoy These Free Short Story E-Romances
Ready to Discover More?
About the Publisher
Acknowledgments
This book is dedicated to Bill and Connie Voigt. Both Bill and Connie have participated in mission work for many years. They have ministered to families in Honduras on six different occasions, Nicaragua on half a dozen trips, and an additional three trips to Mexico. They have also ministered to those here in our hometown. They are an inspiration and have helped me to understand what it means to be “the hands and feet of Christ” to others.
Thanks to my prereaders: Kristy and Janet. You both help me to write quality fiction, and you are such good friends. God blessed me richly with you two! I appreciate my family and friends who support me in this journey of sharing God’s grace through fiction. I’m grateful for the help of my agent, Steve Laube, as well as the wonderful staff at Harvest House for publishing this story. I’d also like to thank Nelson Bynum for the use of his name. I think you’d make a great sheriff.
Lastly, I would like to express my gratitude to the Amish communities in Oklahoma. This is the third and last novel in my Plain and Simple Miracles series, and I have enjoyed the time I spent with you—both in person and on the written page.
If you find yourself near Tulsa, drive east on US-412 for forty minutes until you reach the town of Chouteau. There you will find the Plain and quiet community I refer to as Cody’s Creek. You’ll be blessed by your journey.
And finally…always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ (Ephesians 5:20).
We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked, and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for is the greatest poverty.
MOTHER TERESA
Love your neighbor as yourself.
MATTHEW 22:39
PROLOGUE
Cody’s Creek, Oklahoma
October
Don’t worry. I
’ll find him.” Andy paused long enough to touch her shoulder, and then he too was swallowed up by the stormy night.
Sarah Yoder watched her brother disappear as the wind tore through the stand of elm trees to the south of the house. Lightning streaked across the sky, revealing a deluge of water.
“Is he going to be all right?”
She hadn’t heard her youngest brother step out onto the porch. Was he asking about Andy or their father? She supposed it didn’t matter, as she didn’t know the answer to either. Instead of waiting for her response, Isaac sat on the floor, scooting until his back pressed against the house. Sarah remained where she was, staring into the blackness and wondering how her life had come to this.
She heard her brother sniffle, a small, broken sound, so she stepped back under the roof hang, shook the water from her dress, and sat beside him.
“Ya, of course he will.”
“But it’s so co-co-cold.” Isaac swiped at his nose with the back of his hand.
The child was shivering. She should insist that he go inside, but inside was worse than the storm. Instead, she put her arm around him.
“Looks like we’ll be having an early winter. You’ll be able to sled down the hill before Thanksgiving.”
Isaac shrugged, as if that wasn’t his favorite thing to do from first snow until spring. The child could turn anything into a sled—a trash can lid, a discarded box, even feed sacks. There was no distracting him tonight, though. Not after what had occurred at the dinner table.
“What’s Mamm doing?” she asked.
“Still crying.”
“Henry and Luke?”
“Gone to the barn.”
Her brothers often fled to the safety and peace of the hayloft during one of their father’s episodes. Not Isaac. He was one to stay near Sarah and share her burden of worry. Perhaps that was a blessing.
What had the bishop said on Sunday? Very few burdens are heavy if everyone lifts.
In his own way, little Isaac was helping her lift the burden of their father—an impossible weight for either of them to carry.
Lightning once again split the sky, followed immediately by a deep, continuous rumbling that seemed to rattle the very boards of the porch. The storm was upon them. The temperature had dropped more than twenty degrees in the last two hours. Sarah wouldn’t be surprised if frost covered the fields in the morning.
As the thunder faded, a crash came from inside the house. A dish thrown against a cabinet, if she were to guess.
Isaac tucked in closer to her side.
Sarah stared out into the night.
Together they waited for the return of their father.
CHAPTER 1
Tuesday morning, three months later
Sarah glanced out the kitchen window. Snow covered the yard, the clothesline, even the trampoline under the red oak tree. January’s accumulation had broken the single month snowfall record in Cody’s Creek. It was quite a sight, but it wasn’t enough to close school.
“Are you sure, Sarah? Maybe you just haven’t heard that the school is closed.” Isaac had come downstairs in his oldest pants, which were a good inch too short, and three layers of his brothers’ outgrown shirts—his version of sledding clothes.
“I’m sure. Now hurry upstairs and change before your bruders are back.”
Her mother sat clutching a mug of coffee, neither participating in the conversation nor taking note of it. Deborah Yoder was forty-two years old with dull brown hair pulled haphazardly into her kapp. Her face was gaunt, and dark circles rimmed her blue eyes, but then her mother had always seemed unhealthy in some way. She’d changed considerably in the three months since her husband died, but it wasn’t that she looked older or younger. No, the difference between now and before was that she gave the impression of being barely present. To Sarah it seemed that she drifted a little further from them each day.
Isaac began pleading his case for a snow day. Sarah marched him upstairs and returned to find Luke sitting at the kitchen table, sopping wet, a trail of water stretching from the back door to his chair.
“What happened to you?”
“Snowball fight.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nein. While Andy and Henry were feeding the horses, I snuck around the back and worked on my snowball arsenal.”
“Arsenal? Where did you learn that word?”
“You should have seen it, Sarah. I ambushed them.”
“Ambushed?”
Sarah knew where the language was coming from. Luke had been at the neighbor’s again the previous afternoon. No doubt young Ethan and Luke had spent an hour or so playing video games. It was a situation she needed to address soon, but it wasn’t her most pressing problem.
“Upstairs. Change into dry clothes.”
“Why?” Luke shrugged. “I’ll just get wet again on the way to school.”
“Not if you stay out of the snow.”
“But, Sarah…it’s everywhere.” His arm came out to encompass the entire world, and he nearly knocked over the pitcher of milk.
She caught it just in time, and then she glanced down to see that a large puddle had begun to spread near his chair.
“Apparently it is everywhere, including in your pocket. Now upstairs and hurry, or you’ll have no time to eat.”
Her oldest brother appeared at the back door next. Andy nodded once and made a beeline for the coffee. Henry banged through the door the moment she set the large pot of oatmeal on the table. Henry had a sixth sense for when food was being served.
“Again?” Luke stood and ladled a giant helping into his bowl. “Fourth time this week we’ve had oatmeal for breakfast.”
“You’ll thank your schweschder for making your meal and be grateful for it.” Andy’s voice was stern, though the expression on his face was kind. He was a gut big brother and had stepped into the head of the house role without a single complaint.
Luke murmured, “I’m sorry,” and they all bowed their heads for a moment of silent prayer.
Did her mother pray? Or did she continue staring into her cup of coffee. Sarah couldn’t say. She uttered her own petition for strength and wisdom—two things that she needed an abundant supply of—and then she proceeded to pass around raisins, brown sugar, and thick slices of bread.
The two younger boys spoke of school and hopes for an early dismissal if more snow arrived as forecasted.
The two older boys spoke of their old horse, the tractor, and what work they planned to accomplish in the barn that day. Instead of eating, Sarah made sure lunches were ready for Luke and Isaac.
“You should have some breakfast, Sarah.” Andy filled his bowl with a second helping.
“Ya, I will. Later, maybe.” Sarah continued to struggle with the eating disorder she’d had for nearly ten years. She’d recently turned twenty-three years old. How the years had flown. And yet some things, like her difficulty eating and her family’s challenging situation, remained the same.
She intended to go into town to speak with the banker once the boys had left for school. Just the thought of their financial troubles and sharing them with the world made her insides quiver. Their situation wasn’t exactly a secret. Their father had apparently gambled away what little savings they had before he died. He was a troubled man, but as the bishop had reminded her just last week, it wasn’t their place to judge.
A few moments passed in peace. Breakfast was one of Sarah’s favorite times of the day. It seemed there were less problems early in the morning. By the evening she was often weighed down with them.
Andy and Henry donned their jackets and headed for the barn.
Isaac and Luke left for school, tossing snow at one another as they walked down the lane. The sight caused the band around Sarah’s heart to loosen. Perhaps they would not be scarred by the sins of their father. Maybe they would grow up to be well-balanced adults.
Her mother joined her at the window. Any hope that she was enjoying the sight of her two youngest chi
ldren quickly evaporated when she spoke.
“You’ll remember to check the mail…when you come back?”
“Ya, of course.” The box was at the end of their lane, a quick ten-minute walk that would have done her mother good. But she had no intention of stepping outside the house. Instead, she walked to the living room and stood at the large glass windows, staring out across the fields.
Sarah couldn’t imagine what her mother might be expecting in the mail. Whatever it was, she hoped it would bring her mother back to them. It was hard enough losing one parent. She didn’t know if she could survive losing another.
CHAPTER 2
Sarah sat across from Mr. Charles Dackery. The man had a large belly, causing him to sit slightly back from his desk. A bald head and wire rim glasses caused Sarah to think of an illustrated character she had seen in one of Isaac’s library books.
“The money for your escrow account was due in October. It pays your insurance and your taxes. We’ve already given you two extensions.” Mr. Dackery folded his plump hands on top of the loan papers and waited.
“Ya, and we appreciate that. The thing is, the first extension was before my father died.”
“Such a tragedy—”
“I didn’t even know about the extension.”
“And yet it’s still tied to your land.”
“Of course.” Sarah had known this conversation would be difficult. She’d had her argument plainly laid out in her mind, but the minute she’d stepped into the banker’s office, all of those thoughts had fled. “I know we owe the bank, but we won’t be earning any money until the spring when the winter wheat is sold.”
“You and I both know that with the winter we’re having there will be no winter wheat.” He glanced out the window, where snow had once again begun to fall. “I’m sorry, Ms. Yoder. I feel for your situation, but there’s simply nothing I can do. You’re past due on both your taxes and your insurance. The insurance must be paid because your father took a loan out against the new barn he built. Then he took another loan out several years after the first, against the equity. I wasn’t keen on approving that loan, but there’s a committee, and they have their way of doing things.”
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