“I think she’s very brave, raising the baby rather than giving it up for adoption,” Mattie remarked. She took one of the paper plates on the counter, placed three biscuit sandwiches on it, and covered them with a napkin. “If I don’t take these to Preacher Amos and my two boys, they might not eat anything before church and the wedding. Denki to you ladies for cooking on our special day, and for seeing to our breakfast, too.”
As Mattie passed through the large dining room, she smiled at the way white tablecloths had transformed the old, careworn wooden tables into the perfect setting for their celebration. Her younger sister, Rosetta, was setting a glass to the right of each plate. Christine’s girls, Laura and Phoebe, were going down the sides of the tables with forks and knives while Mary Kate Lehman followed them with the spoons.
“Looks like you’ve got a gut system going, girls,” Mattie said brightly. “How many folks can we seat at once? This’ll be the first time we’ve filled this room.”
“A hundred and fifty—which includes the wedding party up on the eck,” Rosetta replied, gesturing toward the raised table in the far corner. “We figure most of the guests will fill up the first sitting, and then we worker bees and our families can eat during the second sitting.”
“It’ll be gut to see our friends from Coldstream, along with our cousins, aunts, and uncles who’re scattered around Missouri,” Phoebe said. She turned toward Mary Kate with a smile. “We used to live about three hours from here, but the bishop’s son Isaac was causing so much trouble—”
“Setting barns afire and drinking with his English friends,” Laura put in with a shake of her head.
“—that our mamm and aunts decided to move away,” Phoebe continued. “And as if that weren’t enough, Isaac came here with one of his buddies, thinking to get back at Deborah for calling the sheriff.”
“But we sent him packing!” Rosetta recalled with a chuckle. “I doubt the Chupps will come today, what with the three of our households plus Preacher Amos and the Peterscheims moving here to get away from them.”
Mary Kate stopped placing spoons on the tables. Her hand slid over the swell of her belly as her eyes widened. “You—you’re sure Isaac won’t be coming?” she murmured fearfully. “After that English fellow pulled off the road and—and tackled me in the ditch, I don’t ever want a man getting that close to me again, or even looking at me.”
Mattie quickly set her plate down and hurried over to the bishop’s daughter. “Mary Kate, don’t you worry about a thing,” she murmured as she slung her arm around the girl’s slender shoulders. “If my boys or Preacher Amos spots Isaac Chupp, they’ll be swarming around him like Ruby’s bees. Here at Promise Lodge we don’t tolerate men who bully women.”
Mary Kate was breathing rapidly, sucking in air to settle her nerves. “Maybe when we’re finished setting up here, I should go home instead of attending the wedding. Dat says that in my condition, I shouldn’t be showing myself in public anyway.”
Mattie chose her words carefully, not wanting to contradict the bishop—yet hoping Mary Kate would feel comfortable enough to enjoy today’s wedding festivities. At seven months along she was obviously pregnant, but her guilt and shame bothered Mattie more than Mary Kate’s appearance. It wasn’t as if this shy eighteen-year-old girl had gone looking for trouble the day she’d been raped while walking home from a neighbor’s.
“I don’t see the harm of sitting with your mamm during church and the wedding,” Mattie said gently. “What with Laura, Phoebe, and Deborah—and your dat—all sitting up front, you and your mother could keep one another company. There’ll be a lot of folks here that neither one of you knows.”
Mary Kate looked down at her clasped hands. “Jah, there’s that, but—”
“And it might be a long while before we have another big event—unless Rosetta and Truman Wickey decide to get hitched,” Phoebe said with a teasing glance at her aunt.
Rosetta waved them off, but she was smiling. “Don’t hold your breath for that wedding, seeing’s how Truman’s Mennonite and I’m Old Order Amish.”
Laura let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t see why that’s such a big deal,” she protested. “Everybody knows you and Truman are sweet on each other. In some Plain settlements, folks are fine with interfaith marriages.”
“Well, that’s an issue to take up on another day,” Mattie remarked in a purposeful tone. Her nieces meant well, but their romantic notions about Truman and Rosetta would get Bishop Floyd going on another one of his lectures. As bishops went, he was very conservative and insisted on following traditional Old Order ways. “Our concern now is for Mary Kate, and we want her to enjoy our special day instead of feeling she has to hide herself away. Think about it, all right?” she asked softly.
Mary Kate nodded. “You and your sisters keep telling me I should have some fun before the baby gets here. I’ll give it my best shot—unless I chicken out, come time for church.”
Squeezing the girl’s shoulder, Mattie left her sister and the girls to finish setting the tables. When she stepped out onto the lodge’s big front porch, she stopped for a moment to take in the plowed plots where they’d grown vegetables all summer for their roadside produce stand . . . the small white structure alongside Christine’s red dairy barn, where the Kuhn sisters made several varieties of cheese . . . the new road that wound between homes and barns belonging to Noah and Deborah, Preacher Amos, the Peterscheim family, and the Lehmans . . . as well as the partly completed homes, one for their newest residents, Preacher Marlin Kurtz and his kids, and the other for her older son, Roman. Every morning she stood here gazing toward the orchard, Rainbow Lake, and the tree-covered hills that provided such a rustic, lovely setting for their new friends, amazed at how their colony had progressed since spring.
Denki, Lord, for Your providential care, Mattie prayed. We ask Your blessings on Noah and Deborah today as they become man and wife. If You’d bless Mary Kate with health and healing and more confidence, that would be a gift, as well.
When she saw Amos Troyer step out onto his porch, Mattie waved her arm high above her head and started walking toward him. His new home was modest and small compared to the others, because as a widower in his fifties, he wasn’t going to raise another family—although it was no secret that he hoped Mattie would marry him someday soon. Truth be told, she savored her independence after enduring a husband who’d mistreated her, but she enjoyed Preacher Amos’s company.
“I’ve got a surprise for your breakfast,” she called out as she approached his tidy white house. “The Kuhn sisters were kind enough to make us some biscuit sandwiches—”
“Did somebody say biscuits?” Roman called out as he stepped onto the porch of Noah’s house, next door. Queenie, Noah’s black-and-white border collie, rushed out of the house and into the yard, barking excitedly.
Behind Roman, Noah was smiling, buttoning his black vest over his white shirt. “Hope you’ve got more than one of those sandwiches, Mamm,” he said with a laugh. “The pizza Deborah made for us last night is long gone—and she’s not showing her face until church starts.”
“You poor starving things,” Mattie teased as she started up the walk toward her sons. “Deborah deserves a wedding day away from the stove.”
“Or you could get by on bacon, eggs, and toast like I do,” Preacher Amos teased as he strode across his small yard. He stopped a few feet away from Mattie to take in her new dress—and the plate in her hand—with an appreciative smile. He lowered his voice before Roman and Noah reached them. “Of course, if you married me, Mattie, I wouldn’t be threatened by starvation or depression or any of those other maladies a man alone endures.”
“Jah, so you’ve told me,” Mattie teased as she removed the napkin that covered her plate. “Maybe someday I’ll feel sorry enough for you to give up my cozy apartment in the lodge.”
In a flash, the three sandwiches disappeared. Mattie watched Noah eat with a welling-up of love and anticipation. Although he was twenty-one
, it seemed like only yesterday when he’d been born. He and Deborah had known each other all their lives, had become sweethearts in school, had gotten engaged—until Deborah broke off their relationship, claiming Noah didn’t communicate with her or have a concrete plan for their future. The nasty incident involving Isaac Chupp had brought Noah out of his shell, awakening his protective feelings for Deborah, and all of them at Promise Lodge had breathed a sigh of relief when the young couple reconciled this past summer.
“I’m proud of you, Noah,” Mattie murmured as she stroked his unruly brown waves. “I wish you all the happiness that marriage and your faith in God can offer.”
Blushing, Noah eased away from her touch. “Denki, Mamm. I think Deborah and I have figured out how to stay together now,” he said as he offered his dog the last bite of his biscuit.
Mattie shared a smile with Preacher Amos. “When you’re my age, son, you’ll look back to this day and realize how young and innocent you were,” she murmured.
“And clueless,” Amos added with a laugh. “We fellows like to believe we’ve got everything figured out and under control—until life starts tossing monkey wrenches into our well laid plans. I’m a different kind of man than I imagined I’d be when I was your age.”
“Did folks hitch their rigs to dinosaurs back then?” Roman teased. He, too, fed the last bite of his sandwich to Queenie and then rubbed between her ears.
“Puh! I didn’t have much money when I married,” the preacher reminisced, “but I drove fine-looking retired racehorses. Not that my bride always appreciated my priorities,” he admitted. “I hope you’ll give a thought to Deborah’s needs before you devote the household budget to your own whims, Noah. I had a spendy streak—”
“But all the girls liked what they saw and thought you’d be a fine catch back in the day, Amos,” Mattie cut in with a chuckle.
“Back in the day?” he challenged. The way he held her gaze made Mattie’s cheeks prickle with heat. “Might be a little snow on the roof, but there’s still a fire down below.”
“And with that, I’m going to finish getting dressed,” Roman announced, pointing toward the rigs coming through the camp entrance. “We’ve got guests arriving. I hope you two won’t be gawking at each other all during the service, embarrassing us all.”
Mattie smiled, watching her two sons and the dog enter Noah’s white frame house, knowing Amos was still looking at her. “I’m so glad we came to Promise Lodge,” she murmured. “So glad we risked buying this property so we’re no longer living in Obadiah Chupp’s shadow. If I’d still been shackled to that farmhouse in Coldstream, I couldn’t have given my boys plots of land where they could lead lives of their own.”
“You’re an innovator, for sure and for certain,” Amos agreed. “And the best thing I ever did was sell my place and come to Promise with you and your sisters. I feel like my life and my efforts matter now, as we build houses for our new neighbors. The land is like a paradise, and the air smells cleaner—”
“That’s because I showered this morning,” Mattie teased.
She faced Amos, loving the way his laughter eased the lines time had carved into a masculine face weathered by the elements and life experiences. Her life would’ve been entirely different had her dat allowed her to marry Amos Troyer when she was young instead of insisting she take up with Marvin Schwartz, who’d come into a farm with a house on it. Amos had been a fledgling carpenter without two nickels to rub together.
At fifty, Amos was five years older than she, but his strong, sturdy body showed no signs of softening with age or health issues. He was a man in his prime, and he’d made no bones about wanting to marry her now that both their spouses had passed. Sometimes Mattie was on the verge of blurting out a yes when Amos talked of getting hitched—and then memories of Marvin’s abuse would come rushing back to her.
No, she wasn’t in a hurry to take on another husband, another household. But if she ever did, it would be with Amos.
“I hope you’ll allow me the honor of sitting with you at dinner as we celebrate your son’s big day,” he murmured as he gave her hand a quick squeeze.
Mattie smiled up at him, gripping his fingers before releasing them. His brown silver-shot hair and beard shimmered in the morning light, and he cut a fine figure in his black suit and white shirt. “I’ll be happy to, Amos. God be with you as you find the words for your sermon this morning.”
Amos flashed her a boyish grin. “It’ll be God I’m listening to as I speak,” he said, “but it’ll be you I’m looking at for inspiration, Mattie. I hope today’s celebration turns out to be every bit as wonderful as you are.”
Mattie flushed with pleasure, watching him walk to Noah’s new house to prepare for the service—the home Amos had designed and then built with the help of the other local fellows. Amos’s hands were callused from years of carpentry, but there was no softer, more loving heart on God’s green earth.
Go back to where it all started—
the first of Charlotte Hubbard’s
heartwarming Amish romances,
Summer of Secrets.
Welcome to Willow Ridge, Missouri! In this
cozy Amish town along the banks of the river,
the Old Ways are celebrated at the
Sweet Seasons Bakery Café, and love is a
gift God gives with grace . . .
Summer has come to Willow Ridge, but Rachel Lantz is looking forward to a whole new season in her life—marriage to strapping carpenter Micah Brenneman, her childhood sweetheart. When a strange Englisher arrives in the café claiming to be the long-lost sister of Rachel and her twin Rhoda, Rachel feels the sturdy foundation of her future crumbling—including Micah’s steadfast love. As the days heat up and tempers flare, Rachel and Micah will learn that even when God’s plan isn’t clear, it will always lead them back to each other . . .
Available now!
About the Author
Drawing upon her experiences in Jamesport, the largest Old Order Amish community west of the Mississippi, longtime Missourian CHARLOTTE HUBBARD writes of simpler times and a faith-based lifestyle in her new Seasons of the Heart series. Like her heroine, Miriam Lantz, Charlotte considers it her personal mission to feed people—to share hearth and home. Faith and family, farming and food preservation are hallmarks of her lifestyle, and the foundation of her earlier Angels of Mercy series. She’s a deacon, a dedicated church musician, and a choir member, and when she’s not writing, she loves to try new recipes, crochet, and sew. Charlotte now lives in Minnesota with her husband and their border collie.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2016 by Charlotte Hubbard
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-13: 978-1-4201-3869-6
ISBN-10: 1-4201-3869-3
ISBN: 978-1-4201-3869-6
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