by Amy Lillard
THE SEASON OF GIVING
“Leah’s right,” Tillie said. “There will never be enough that we can offer you to show our thanks for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“You would’ve been just fine,” he said. “But I’m so glad I got to be a part of it.” There was a strange light in his blue eyes. Tillie had no idea what it meant. But she had to admit that Levi looked happier than he had the whole time she had known him. She supposed that was the power of a baby and a Christmas miracle.
“Well, thank you anyway,” Tillie said. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”
Since the time she had arrived, she had been thinking about leaving, and now that the time had come, all she could think about was finding a way to stay. But there was no excuse to stay. And she knew deep in her heart that all she wanted was to postpone the inevitable, to stall the reckoning . . .
Books by Amy Lillard
The Wells Landing Series
CAROLINE’S SECRET
COURTING EMILY
LORIE’S HEART
JUST PLAIN SADIE
TITUS RETURNS
MARRYING JONAH
THE QUILTING CIRCLE
A WELLS LANDING CHRISTMAS
LOVING JENNA
ROMANCING NADINE
The Pontotoc Mississippi Series
A HOME FOR HANNAH
A LOVE FOR LEAH
A FAMILY FOR GRACIE
AN AMISH HUSBAND FOR TILLIE
Amish Mysteries
KAPPY KING AND THE PUPPY KAPER
KAPPY KING AND THE PICKLE KAPER
KAPPY KING AND THE PIE KAPER
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
An Amish Husband For Tillie
Amy Lillard
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
THE SEASON OF GIVING
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
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2020 by Amy Lillard
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons living or dead, 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: 978-1-4201-5172-5
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5173-2 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4201-5173-8 (eBook)
Chapter One
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” The English driver looked down the narrow, red-dirt road, then back up into Tillie’s eyes.
She smiled in what she hoped was a confident manner and nodded her head. “I’m sure.”
It wasn’t too cold out, just enough to let a person know winter had arrived in Northeast Mississippi. But he was talking about something else entirely.
He hesitated once more. She held her breath. She didn’t want him to follow her down the road to the house where she had grown up. She knew he was only trying to be kind and gentlemanly, but she didn’t want anyone to be a witness in case they turned her away. She remembered her father’s reaction when Hannah had returned. He had not been pleased. He would most likely be even less joyed that she was back. Her mother would be happy, she was fairly certain, but would it be enough to keep Tillie there? She didn’t know. The shame of her return was more than enough to keep her running.
English Christmas music streamed from the car radio as the man considered his choices. “There’s only Amish houses down that way,” he said.
“Yes, I know.”
“You used to be Amish?” he asked, taking in her English attire. His gaze swept her from head to toe. She was glad that she had fastened the middle buttons of the military coat she had found at the Goodwill. She would never get him on his way if he knew what she had concealed beneath her winter jacket.
“Something like that,” she replied.
“If you’re sure.”
“Positive.” She gave him one last smile that she hoped was confident enough to pass.
“Okay.” He gave a final nod.
She had a feeling that if she’d had a couple of suitcases she wouldn’t have been able to dissuade him. But all she had were the clothes on her back and what she had been able to stuff into her backpack.
She handed him the folded bills she had counted out for the ride home. It was all that she had left. The last of her money had brought her back to Pontotoc. She had no choice but to stay. For a while anyway. No choice at all.
With a sigh she hoped the driver didn’t hear, she turned and looked down the road toward the house where she grew up. She couldn’t see it, of course. It was down in a little valley surrounded by barns and outbuildings and the houses belonging to her brothers.
Behind her the car idled. She would have to take those first steps before the driver would be certain that she would be okay. Of all the people she had met in the English world, why did one of the sweetest and nicest have to be the last one she would see for a while?
Somehow she managed to take that first step. Why was it harder to walk toward home than it was to leave Melvin a note explaining where she had gone and why?
The sound of the engine changed. The tires crunched across the gravel as he allowed the car to roll forward. Two more steps, these easier than the one before, and the driver started down the road. Two turns and he would be back in town. A quarter of a mile and she would be on her parents’ front porch.
Each step was a little easier to make than the last, but still it was rough going. Not so much because the winter had started to take its toll on the packed dirt road, but because she knew what was waiting for her at the bottom of the valley. Or rather, she didn’t know what was waiting for her. Would they be welcoming or would they flatly turn her away? There was only one way to know, and it was a trial by fire.
She stopped at t
he top of the hill, next to the cabin where Jamie and his adopted son, Peter, had lived for a time when they first came to Mississippi. Maybe her folks would allow her to stay there. It was almost a home. They had built a room onto the back, upping the room total to two, but it would be enough for her and the baby.
Tillie adjusted the straps on her backpack, then cupped her hands over the growing mound concealed by the bulk of her coat. Just another month or so and she would give birth to Melvin Yoder’s child while he remained in the English world repairing engines and enjoying the freedoms he couldn’t have in their conservative Amish community.
But she couldn’t stay there any longer. It was just so hard.
“Okay, baby,” she said. “This is it.” What was Cindy at the day care always saying? It’s now or never.
“Now or never,” she muttered.
Lord, please don’t allow them to turn me away. I know I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. But this child is innocent. She needs a home, a place to stay and be loved. Move their hearts and have them accept. If not for me, then for this baby. Amen.
Once again she started walking, taking in the subtle changes that had come to their little valley since she had left. There was a new tire swing in the large oak that sat next to the barn and horse corral. Someone had moved a washer up to her brother David’s house. She supposed their mamm had gotten tired of washing her youngest son’s clothes. A stack of bee boxes sat to one side of her brother Jim’s house. A lot of changes, but none at all. Maybe it just felt that way because she was different. The English world had changed her, taught her life lessons that she could not have learned anywhere else.
As she entered the shared yards, a screen door slammed. She turned to see Anna, her brother Jim’s wife, standing at the edge of their porch.
“Tillie?” Almost a whisper.
“Hi, Anna.” She smiled, hesitantly, the one motion asking for forgiveness from the start.
“Tillie?” The screech behind her had Tillie whirling around to face her mother.
“Abner! Come quick! Tillie’s home.”
* * *
After hugs from her brothers and her nieces and nephews, and a frown from her father, Tillie was led into the house and directly to the kitchen table. Of course her mother wanted to feed her straight away, but the roundness of Tillie’s belly gave her mamm pause.
During all the welcoming and joyful tears, no one had mentioned her obviously pregnant condition. She didn’t know if no one wanted to be the one to broach the subject or if they simply didn’t know what to say. Or maybe it was because of the mixed company—men and children. Women didn’t discuss such matters around men and children.
But now the clamor had died down. Everyone save Mamm and Libby, her brother Jim’s oldest daughter, had gone back to their lives. Dat was most likely in the barn working on one of the sheds he sold to English and Amish alike. Jim was out with him, she was certain. Just as she was certain David had been sent to her sisters’ houses to tell them the news. And to Gracie’s new home. Leah had written her about Gracie’s new family. She was delighted for her cousin. A family of her own had been Gracie’s unspoken dream for so very long.
Mamm slid onto the bench seat opposite Tillie and shot Libby a look.
The girl immediately stood. “I’ll go check on Mammi.” In the blink of an eye, she was gone, bustling off toward the dawdihaus to see about the oldest member of their family.
Obviously Libby had been brought over to help Mammi. Tillie’s grandmother had fallen and broken her hip a couple of years ago. Hannah had returned shortly afterward, using that injury as an excuse for returning when the real reasons were much more alarming—a dead, cheating husband and debts beyond anything they could imagine. Gracie had come to help at first and stayed until she married Matthew. If Tillie had been at home, Mammi’s care would have fallen to her. As it was, it had become Libby’s responsibility.
“Would you like to tell me about it?” Mamm’s voice was soft and so gentle that tears sprang to Tillie’s eyes.
No, she didn’t want to tell her mother about “it,” but what choice did she really have? None, if she wanted to stay for a while.
“The baby’s due in January.” Maybe not the best thing to start off with, but it was out and she had to be satisfied with it.
“And your Melvin?”
Tillie just shook her head. The lump in her throat took up too much room for her to speak around it. She swallowed hard and tried again. “He didn’t want to return.”
Mamm nodded, but the action was more resigned than agreeing. “And this is what you want?”
Tillie started to speak again, but her mamm beat her to it. “You’ve made peace with it?”
She didn’t need to say the rest, that she would be shunned in their small community. Even though Tillie hadn’t joined the church, the community would frown heavily upon her wandering from her faith and all the lessons that she had been taught in her life.
“I suppose,” Tillie finally said. “I mean, I’m hoping he’ll change his mind now that I’m here.” And that was something. Her mamm had no idea how hard it had been to walk away from her job, the apartment where she lived with Melvin, and Melvin himself. But she’d had to. Even if she might not get to stay in Pontotoc. If she was to stay, Melvin would have to come back and the two of them would have to get married. It was as simple as that.
But with all the Christmas celebrations going around, Tillie had longed for home. She longed for her family, the traditions and people, the church where she felt loved. Home. And she knew that she had to return. For the baby. She wanted her child raised among the grace and faith of her Amish community. Even though what she wanted and what she could have were literally worlds apart.
When she told Melvin her plans, he scoffed. Maybe he even thought she was joking. That’s why she had left in the middle of the morning, while he was at work, and made her way back to Pontotoc.
Her mother smiled, the same smile Tillie had traveled miles and miles to see. “Yes,” she said. “You’re here. Now,” she continued, “let’s see about getting you something to eat.” She started to stand, but Tillie reached out a hand and laid it on top of her mother’s.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” Tillie said. Nothing else seemed to fit, but the words themselves were sadly lacking. She was sorry for so many things—for leaving in the dead of night, for going against the Ordnung, for coming home in shame.
But the one thing she couldn’t be sorry about was the baby itself. It was a miracle. Not in the Biblical sense, but a miracle nonetheless. A life was growing inside her, a life that she and Melvin had made. She was sorry that they hadn’t gotten married yet, but he always seemed too busy. Honestly, she thought the friends he had made at the garage had talked him out of marrying her.
And that was another thing she was sorry for: Melvin had changed.
Maybe she had too. But now all she wanted was to return home, be among her family, and spend Christmas in their loving embrace.
“I know, dear.” Mamm patted her hand and made her way to the icebox. She pulled out a couple of containers of leftovers, dumped them out in two separate stainless steel pans, then lit the stove.
Mamm turned back to face her. Tillie tried to smile, but the action wouldn’t come. She was tired. So very tired. It had taken her hours to get home, though it was only about an hour and a half by car between Pontotoc and Columbus. “It’s not going to be easy, you know.”
Tillie nodded. It was already difficult. Seeing the shame on her father’s face, the shock on her brothers’ faces. Only Anna had worn a sympathetic look. But that was Jim’s Anna, always worried about the person next to her.
“I know,” she said. “But—” She stopped.
“But what?” Mamm prodded.
“I had to come home.”
Steaming pots forgotten, Mamm crossed over to her and placed her hands on either side of her face. She tilted Tillie’s chin up until she had no choice but to look and listen, muc
h like Mamm had done when Tillie was a child.
“You are home,” Mamm said emphatically. “Never forget that.”
* * *
After eating almost more leftovers than she could hold, Tillie donned her army coat and went out onto the porch. She loved sitting on the swing with her cousin Gracie, talking about boys and cooking and quilting and all the other things that young girls talk about.
“Tillie?” Libby eased the screen door open but stopped before letting it shut behind her. “Can I . . . can I come out and sit with you?”
Tillie smiled. “Of course.” She scooched over and patted the seat next to her. She gave Libby an encouraging nod, though she really just wanted to be alone. She supposed there would be time for that later. Right now her niece seemed to have something on her mind.
Libby sat down next to her and tears once again filled Tillie’s eyes. She missed her sisters so much. They had just come back to Pontotoc to live when Melvin had decided he had had enough of Amish living. What choice had she had but to go? She had loved him, after all—though now she wondered about that love. Was it really love if the person didn’t seem to love you in return? She had thought he did, but things change. People change. Melvin changed, until she hardly knew him at all. But that wasn’t the reason she had come home. No, it was Christmas. The chill in the air, everyone talking about buying gifts and wrapping them. All the ladies at the day care wanted to talk about their Christmas trees and when they were going to put them up. Those who didn’t know her well also didn’t know that she was Amish. She didn’t have a Christmas tree or lights or ornaments. No stockings of red and white, no Christmas music, no singing Santa or dancing Grinch, the weird, green creature that didn’t seem like Christmas to her at all. She had none of these things.
