by Mary Davis
“To make my day.” Seeing her had made him happy.
“You are a sweet one.” She hooked her arm in his.
Halfway across the yard, Teresa stopped and pointed. “See those trees that edge our property?”
He nodded. A line of windbreak vegetation stood to the north.
“I want my dawdy haus right next to the highbush cranberry bushes.”
A nice spot. “Why are you telling me?”
“So you know where to build it when the time comes.”
She must be confused again.
“You want me to build your dawdy haus?”
“Of course. Who else?”
He didn’t know what to say. Should he tell her he couldn’t build it for her? Or hope this conversation was one she’d forget? If Deborah didn’t stay, then he would leave, as well.
He cared deeply for this family.
And for a certain young woman.
Hannah came out of the house. “Mutter?”
“Over here.” Amos guided Teresa toward her daughter. “Let’s get you back inside.”
Hannah rushed over. “Mutter. Don’t go outside without telling anyone.” She turned to Amos. “Danki. We thought you’d gone back home.”
Not home, but she didn’t need to know that. “I came back to talk to your vater. It’s urgent.”
“He’s in the barn.”
“Danki.” As Amos crossed to the barn, he looked around the yard and at the newly sowed fields. He stared at the patch where Teresa Miller wanted her dawdy haus. He missed this place and its people—one most of all—even though he’d been gone for only one night.
Deborah’s father pitched hay from the loft Amos had built. “Bartholomew.”
Hay showered down, and he rested the pitchfork on the loft floor. “Amos. I thought you went back home.”
Amos didn’t want to take the time to explain just where he’d been. “We need to hurry. Deborah’s leaving. We need to stop her.”
“Ne. She’s not.”
“Ja. She is. There’s... It’s hard to explain, but if we both go, maybe we can talk her out of this foolishness.”
Kittens scampered from the room Amos had occupied at the sound of his voice, meowing.
Bartholomew chuckled. “Someone was missed.” He climbed down the ladder and gripped Amos’s shoulders. “I know about the modeling. She was going to leave, but she’s come to her senses.”
“She has?” Amos gritted his teeth as two kittens climbed up his trouser legs, one in the front and one in the back. He plucked off the one in front. The other made it up on his shoulder. “She’s staying?”
“Ja. She’s staying.”
Relief swept through Amos.
The older man stared up at the hayloft. “You did gut work. I won’t be getting injured again.” He waved an arm to include the surroundings. “It’s back to me doing all the work around here. I appreciate all your hard work. You’ve done an excellent job with everything. I don’t know how we would have managed without you.”
“Danki.” Teresa’s words came back to him. What had she said? He needs another man here. That was the answer teasing him as he walked. “I’d like to stay on and continue to help you.”
“What about going back to your family’s farm? I’m sure they’ve missed you.”
“The farm will go to my brothers. I believe this is where I’m supposed to be.” This was where Gott had been preparing him for.
“Then you’re welcome to stay. I’m not about to turn away help.”
That pleased Amos. “But first, I have a confession.”
“Bishop Bontrager is the one to hear confessions.”
Telling Bartholomew Miller might not be necessary, but Amos needed to do it if his plans were going to work out. “I have wronged you and need to ask your forgiveness.”
“I can’t think of anything you’ve done wrong. Whatever you think you’ve done, I forgive you.”
That was nice, but Amos hadn’t told him yet. “The whole time I was working here, I plotted to leave our community.”
Bartholomew’s eyebrows pulled down. “Leave the community?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I thought Gott was calling me away. I’d been hurt by...people. I figured if I was going to have to work in the Englisher world, I might as well live there, too.”
“And?”
“I know I belong here.” And not just in the community, but here on this farm. “Do you forgive me?”
Bartholomew rubbed his hand across his mouth. “It seems my farm has been harboring all kinds of secrets. Ja. I forgive you.”
“Danki.” Now for the hard part. Amos cleared his throat.
“Speak, boy. You obviously have something else to say. More secrets?”
Amos shook his head. “I would like...your permission to court—”
“Ja.” A smile broke on the older man’s face. “You have it.”
Amos stood mute with his mouth hanging open, then found his voice. “But I haven’t said which daughter.”
“Deborah, of course.”
How had he known? “Why not Miriam or Joanna?”
“Because you’re not in love with either of them. You weren’t thinking of asking for Miriam or Joanna, were you? Because that would have to be a different answer altogether.”
“You would’ve said ne?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not in love with either of them. But you are with Deborah.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I love her. Not yet. But I believe I’m on my way. And that’s why I want to court her.”
Bartholomew shook his head. “Young people can’t see what’s right in front of them, or know their own hearts.”
Amos didn’t know what the older man meant.
Bartholomew clasped Amos on the shoulder. “Trust me. This strange cacophony of emotions churning inside you that you’re trying to sort out—that’s love, boy.”
Amos did have a myriad of emotions when it came to Deborah. But did they equal love? He didn’t know.
But he aimed to find out.
* * *
Deborah stood on the shore of the pond with a heavy heart, watching the ducks and ducklings paddle around in the water.
Gott had wrestled with her most of the night. Vater’s prayers had made her thrash about instead of sleeping, until she’d made the decision to stay. The right decision. She knew that in her soul. Though she hadn’t gotten very much sleep, she felt surprisingly gut. Lighter.
She’d called Hudson early this morning to tell him to leave without her. He’d hung up on her.
Gott wanted her to stay with her family, which had been a great relief to her. What they were going to do about the medical bills, none of them knew, but if they could bring in a gut crop this year, they might scrape by. Thanks to Amos plowing and planting their crops for them, they had a chance to keep the farm, but it wouldn’t be easy.
Oh, Amos. Why did he have to leave? She might never see him again. Her nose stuffed up with unshed tears, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Was there anything she could say to convince him to return?
As though her thoughts caused him to appear, Amos approached. “Hallo, Deborah.”
Was he really here? “Amos?”
“Ja. It’s me.”
His smile melted her heart, and she wanted to run to him but didn’t. “What are you doing here? I thought you left.”
“That’s funny. I was going to say the same to you. I came to talk you out of leaving.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Me either.”
“But you were in town yesterday. I thought you’d already left. My vater said so.”
“I had, but I couldn’t sleep.”
Just like Deborah. Vater
must have been praying for him, too.
“I realized I didn’t want to leave. I have been hurt a few times by girls I thought I wanted to marry. I decided that I couldn’t trust any Amish girls. That’s why I left.”
And Deborah had fueled his mistrust by modeling and threatening to leave, as well.
He went on. “But Gott made me see that my trust was misplaced. I need to trust Him. I thought I wanted to leave, but I don’t. I’m staying.”
Dare she believe it. “You’re staying? Really?”
“Really.” He took her hand. “I’ve asked your vater permission to court you. He gave it.”
Had she heard correctly? “You want to court me?”
“Ja.”
Part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms—something a gut Amish would never do. She’d definitely spent too much time in the Englisher world. Another part of her didn’t believe his declaration could be true. Or at least, the declaration she’d imagined he’d said and dreamed he’d said.
“Are you going to give me your answer or continue to make me suffer?”
“I...I want to say ja, but I’m finding it hard to believe you would choose me. I haven’t exactly been a model Amish.”
“Who of us are perfect? None. And...”
“What?”
He chuckled. “I just realized your vater was right.”
His laughter soothed her. “About what?”
“When I asked his permission to court you, he told me something. Something I didn’t believe.”
“What?”
“I don’t know that I should say right now.”
“Please.” She wanted to know what her vater had said to make him smile like that. A smile that made her want to get lost in it.
“He told me that I was in love with you. I thought he’d gone daft.”
Her heart soared. Loved? Dare she hope? “Go back. Say that again.”
“I thought your vater was daft?”
“Ne. Before that.”
His mouth pulled up on one side. “I asked his perm—”
“After that.”
Mischievousness played at the corners of his mouth.
He’d been teasing her.
He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I love you, Deborah. I want to court you and marry you one day.”
“I want that, too.”
“Our own house and lots of children.”
She sucked in a breath and pulled her hand away. “Oh, but I can’t. I’m so sorry.”
His smile slipped away. “If you’re not ready, I’ll wait.”
The tears she’d held at bay before sprang to her eyes and blurred her vision. “It’s not that.” He was her dream come true. “I believe Gott wants me to remain here on my parents’ farm the rest of my life to care for Mutter. So I can’t marry.”
“I want that, too. To stay on this farm. I’ve been trying to figure out where I belong. I felt Gott leading me away from my family’s farm. I thought I was supposed to go out into the Englisher world. But that’s not where He was leading me. He was preparing to send me here. Your mutter asked—ne—told me to build her a dawdy haus by the windbreak. I want to do that. Your vater has already given his permission for me to stay here. I want to live here and help take care of her. With you, of course.”
Deborah had believed she needed to give up on the dream of marrying one day. Believed that was her penance for modeling. In spite of her poor choices in the past, Gott was giving her the desire of her heart.
“What do you say? Deborah Miller, will you marry me and be my wife?”
She did throw herself into his arms this time, and he caught her. “Ja. I want to be your wife.” He lifted her off the ground and swung her around.
When he set her back down, he stared at her a moment with a huge grin, then he pressed his lips to hers.
A thrill tingled through her. “Well, now you’ll have to marry me.”
“Gladly.” He kissed her again.
* * * * *
If you loved this story,
check out the previous book
in Mary Davis’s miniseries
Prodigal Daughters:
Courting Her Amish Heart
And if you like Amish stories,
be sure to pick up these books
by top author Jo Ann Brown
in her miniseries
Amish Spinster Club:
The Amish Suitor
The Amish Christmas Cowboy
Available now from Love Inspired!
Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com
Keep reading for an excerpt from Runaway Amish Bride by Leigh Bale.
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Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed the second book of the Prodigal Daughters miniseries, featuring Amish women with nontraditional hopes and dreams.
Before starting to write an Amish romance, I had to get to know who they were a little. Like a lot of people, I had preconceived notions of what the Amish were like. The more I researched the Amish, the more I fell in love with them. I learned things I never imagined and shattered the two-dimensional image I had of them and discovered a vibrant people.
I had so much fun coming up with these prodigal Amish women. As I said in the first book, I wanted to think of something an Amish person wouldn’t do. Being a fashion model is high on that list. My next challenge was getting her away from her family farm all the time without her family noticing. I felt so bad for Deborah that her family didn’t notice her regular absence, especially her mutter. So, I explored why they could be so callous toward her. If you’ve read this story, you know why, and if you haven’t yet, I won’t spoil it for you.
I loved getting to know Deborah and Amos and sharing their romance. Though Deborah may have thought she craved attention, she really just wanted to belong in her own family. Deborah’s prodigality was selfish, but when her family needed her, she was willing to sacrifice everything for them.
Deborah is dear to my heart not only because my heart ached for her misguided actions, but because I named her after my wonderful second oldest sister.
Until next time, happy reading!
Blessings,
Mary
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Runaway Amish Bride
by Leigh Bale
Chapter One
Abigail Miller sat primly on the edge of a tall-backed chair and stared at Jakob Fisher, his long fingers clenched around the letters Abby had given him.
He paced the length
of the spacious living room in his home, his blue chambray shirt stretched taut across his overly broad shoulders and muscular arms. Even his black suspenders looked tight against his solid back. He had just arrived from working in the fields, and his plain trousers and black boots had dust on them. His dark hair was slightly damp and curled against the nape of his neck, confirming that the April weather was unseasonably warm. His straw hat sat on a table where he’d carelessly tossed it twenty minutes earlier. His high forehead furrowed as he scowled at his mother.
“I can’t believe you told this woman I would marry her,” he muttered.
Naomi Fisher met her son’s gaze. She sat beside Bishop Yoder on the sofa, her hands in her lap. The friction in the room was palpable. Abby couldn’t help wishing she had never come to Colorado. Even the abuse she had suffered back home in Ohio at the hands of her father and elder brother was preferable to this humiliating scene.
“I didn’t make the offer, mein sohn. As you can see from his letters, your father did this, just before he died.” Naomi spoke in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice, her expression calm but resolute.
Jakob handed the letters back to Abby. Several pages escaped her grasp and drifted to the floor. She bent over to gather them up, then placed them neatly inside her purse. They were like a shameful reminder that she’d done something wrong, but she hadn’t. She’d merely agreed to what she thought was a marriage proposal.
“Did you know what Daed had done?” Jakob asked.
“Ne, I didn’t know anything about it. Not until today. I just thought Abby was coming to Colorado to visit us,” Naomi said.
The bishop cleared his voice. “Your vadder told me of his plans, although he led me to believe that you had agreed to the offer of marriage. I thought it was all arranged. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak with you about it before now.”
Jakob stopped dead and stared at the man. “Ne, I knew nothing. Why didn’t Daed tell me about it? I never would have agreed to such a scheme.”
Abby flinched at the irritation in his voice. She felt devious, as though she had plotted behind Jakob’s back. She shifted her weight, wishing she could disappear. Wishing she were anywhere but here. She had arrived by bus only two hours earlier. Naomi, Bishop Yoder and his wife, Sarah, had been at the station to meet her. After traveling for twenty-six hours, Abby was hungry, exhausted and relieved to see a friendly face. She’d climbed into the back of the bishop’s buggy and he had driven her here, to the Fishers’ farm just nine miles outside town. She thought she was coming here to marry Jakob, the only man she’d ever trusted. Now, she realized she’d made a huge mistake.
