by Beth Wiseman
Her father was a wise man, and he’d been correct. Naomi was allowing her heart to lead the way, and she would leave her community for this man. But her father had been wrong also. Naomi would never leave her faith. It would go with her wherever she went.
“I think this Amish woman you speak of would be very lucky and blessed to have you in her life.” She eased away from him, still unbothered by the frigid temperatures that had crept up on them the past few days. Her heart was providing enough heat to keep her warm for the rest of her life. “Do you want to come in and have some coffee? Maybe we can talk about the opportunities God has placed before us.”
“I’d like that.” Brock took Naomi’s hand and they started across the yard, but Naomi stopped and looked over her shoulder. Then she turned completely and faced the light in the sky. There wasn’t magic in the moon’s glow like Pearl had spoken of. Instead, it was a bright reminder of the miraculous ways that God provides for His children.
Brock turned around also, and they both stood quietly under the harvest moon. When they started toward the house again, Brock chuckled.
They stopped on the front porch and faced each other. “What’s so funny?” Naomi smiled back at him.
He stared over her shoulder and into the sky. “I was just wondering what my parents and grandparents would think right now. When I was a kid, I begged my parents to let me be Amish, even though they’d chosen not to themselves. They said when I was grown, I could make that choice.” He looked back at Naomi. “But then I met Patty in high school, and she was Lutheran, so it didn’t work out that way.” Brock turned toward the sky again. “I think that my grandparents are smiling from heaven, knowing that there’s a strong chance I’ll finally have my wish.”
When Brock turned to face her again, they were quiet. But Naomi’s heart spoke to Brock in a language she knew he understood. I lieb you.
And when Brock smiled at her, she knew he’d heard her silent declaration in his own heart, and she heard his heart speaking back to her. I lieb you too.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. Naomi felt like the abuse she suffered at the hands of her husband was her fault. Have you or anyone you’ve known been in this situation and felt the same way as Naomi?
2. There is fourteen years difference between Naomi and Brock, but Brock is young at heart. Do you think this is too much of an age difference? What if the situation had been reversed and Naomi was fourteen years older than Brock? Does it make a difference?
3. There are a lot of superstitions attached to the phases of the moon. Is there any truth to them?
4. At the end of the story, we see Naomi and Brock moving toward a romantic relationship, along with Brock’s willingness to convert to the Amish way of life. Where do you see Brock and Naomi in ten years? Twenty years?
5. Powwowing is a controversial practice with varying degrees of acceptance or rejection within certain Amish communities. This author’s source said she believes powwowing to be an evil practice, while others seek out powwowers in secret—for healing, help conceiving a child, or other wants/needs. Have you heard of this practice before? If so, what is your opinion?
6. Who was your favorite character in the story? Why?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A huge thanks to my family and friends for your continued love and support throughout this amazing journey. A special thank you to my husband, Patrick, for your patience with a wife who always has a deadline for something, lol.
To my agent, Natasha Kern, I’m grateful for your keen insight about all things publishing and for guiding my career in ways that help me to grow as a writer and a person. In a world where publishing is changing almost daily, you continue to educate yourself (and me!) by staying on top of everything. I’m also incredibly blessed to have you as a friend.
Janet Murphy, as we rock and roll along, always know that I appreciate you very much. The title of “assistant” no longer works. You are so much more than that! And you are a blessing in my life both professionally and personally.
Thank you to my entire team at HarperCollins Christian Publishing. You are all unique and wonderful and brilliant and creative and in love with books as much as I am. You are fabulous.
To Sharon Hanners. It is with love and thanks that I dedicate this story to you. Thank you for reaching out to me at a confusing time in my life when I longed to love a child who wasn’t even born yet. How blessed we are to share in a life that was gifted to us through our children and God. Grandmas Unite! We love you CJ. XO
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Beth Wiseman is the award-winning and bestselling author of the Daughters of the Promise, Land of Canaan, and Amish Secrets series. While she is best known for her Amish novels, Beth has also written contemporary novels including Need You Now, The House that Love Built, and The Promise.
You can read the first chapter of all of Beth’s books at:
www.bethwiseman.com
Love and Buggy Rides
Amy Clipston
For Eric Goebelbecker, the coolest big brother on the planet.
GLOSSARY
ach—oh
aenti—aunt
appeditlich—delicious
bedauerlich—sad
boppli—baby
bruder—brother
bu / buwe—boy / boys
daadi—granddad
daadihaus—grandparents’ house
daed—dad
danki—thank you
dat—dad
dochder—daughter
Englisher—a non-Amish person
fraa—wife
freind / freinden—friend(s)
froh—happy
gern gschehne—you’re welcome
gude mariye—good morning
gut—good
gut nacht—good night
haus—house
Ich liebe dich—I love you
kaffi—coffee
kapp—prayer covering or cap
kichli / kichlin—cookie(s)
kind—child
kinner—children
liewe—love, a term of endearment
maed—young women, girls
maedel—young woman, girl
mamm—mom
mammi—grandma
mei—my
naerfich—nervous
onkel—uncle
schee—pretty
schweschder—sister
Was iss letz?—What’s wrong?
Wie geht’s—How do you do? or Good day!
wunderbaar—wonderful
ya—yes
FEATURED AMISH HEIRLOOM SERIES CHARACTERS
Timothy m. Sylvia Lantz
Samuel (m. Mandy)
Marie
Janie
Samuel m. Mandy Lantz
Becky
Martha “Mattie” m. Leroy Fisher
Veronica
Rachel
Emily
Vera (deceased) m. Raymond Lantz (deceased)
Michael (“Mike”) (mother—Esther—deceased)
John
Chapter One
Janie Lantz sank down onto a wooden picnic table bench at the far end of the parking lot, next to Old Philadelphia Pike. The fresh, cool September breeze held a hint of the autumn weather on its way to Lancaster County as she opened her lunch bag and unwrapped her turkey sandwich. Before taking a bite, she glanced back at the Lancaster Buggy Rides and Souvenirs shop. Rows of pumpkins lined up in front of the store and orange and brown wreaths hung on the door and windows.
So far her first day as a cashier at the shop had gone well. But though she enjoyed talking with the tourists, her aching feet made her thankful for the opportunity to sit down while she enjoyed her lunch.
The clip-clop of hooves drew her attention to the highway. She recognized the long gray buggy full of tourists as one of the buggies her boss owned. Throughout the day, the buggies took tourists on rides around the Bird-in-Hand area. She hadn’t met the three buggy drivers yet, but she’d seen the Amish men
from a distance earlier in the day when they were standing by the stable next to the store.
Janie took a bite of her sandwich and watched the driver start to guide the buggy into the driveway leading to the parking lot.
Suddenly a silver sedan sped up behind the buggy. The car’s driver appeared to be looking down at something in his hand—just before he looked up and hit his brakes.
Then, almost as if in slow motion, the car slammed into the back side of the buggy, shattering the right rear wheel and causing the buggy to teeter. The buggy shifted awkwardly and then fell on the right rear corner, sending the driver and a few passengers on that side tumbling onto the ground. The car behind the buggy had come to a stop.
Janie gasped in horror as she jumped up from the bench, dropping her sandwich and knocking over her bottle of water. She rushed across the parking lot to the store’s main entrance, reaching the door just as two customers were coming out.
“Excuse me!” Janie yelled. “Do you have a cell phone?”
One of the women nodded as she stared at Janie with confusion on her face.
“Would you please call nine-one-one? There’s been an accident.” Janie pointed toward the driveway, and both women turned, taking in the scene.
The woman who had nodded pulled out her phone and started punching in the numbers.
Janie burst through the front door and spotted her boss, Craig Warner, talking to her coworker, Eva, near the cash register in the center of the large store.
Janie ran to them, beckoning for Craig to follow her. “Craig! Craig! You need to come quickly! A car hit one of our buggies while it was turning into the driveway. It just happened. I’m sure people are hurt.”
“Eva, call nine-one-one,” Craig instructed as he started walking. “Tell Bianca to find the first-aid kit and get the ice packs from the freezer.”
“Okay.” Eva’s brown eyes widened as she nodded and grabbed the store phone to make the call.
Craig hustled toward the door and Janie trailed behind him. “I asked a customer to call nine-one-one too.”
“That was a good idea.”
In his midforties, Craig was tall and fit. Janie was nearly jogging to keep up with his long strides. She knew his brown eyes, which matched his hair and goatee, had to be filled with worry for his driver and customers.
Once outside, Craig groaned as the accident came into view. “Oh no. This is much worse than I hoped.”
A shiver raced up Janie’s spine as she took in the scene playing out in the driveway and parking lot. A crowd had gathered around the broken buggy and car, which had a smashed front bumper and headlights. Sirens already blared in the distance, announcing the approach of first responders.
Craig rushed over to the buggy and joined someone helping an older woman sitting on the ground with a bloody gash on her forehead. A middle-aged man and woman sat on the ground as well, looking bewildered as the customer who had called nine-one-one for Janie knelt beside them. One young man was already helping some of the passengers to nearby benches. The horse looked spooked, but not injured, and two men were doing their best to soothe it.
The driver of the car still sat behind the wheel, looking stunned as a man leaned in, no doubt asking if he was all right. She guessed the driver was around nineteen.
At first glance, Janie thought most of the passengers’ injuries seemed to be minor, but no one could be sure until EMTs arrived. As Janie wrung her hands, wondering what else she could do to help until then, she turned and nearly walked right into a man who towered over her by several inches. She immediately recognized him as one of the buggy drivers she’d seen that morning.
He was helping the remaining two passengers climb out of the buggy, but Janie could see he was favoring his left arm. Blood seeped from a cut on his head as well, streaming down the side of his face, a stark contrast to his paled face and dark brown hair.
“Take your time,” he told a woman as she climbed down to the ground. He grasped her arm with his right hand and grimaced as she leaned on him.
Once the woman was safely out, he swayed slightly, closing his eyes for a moment as if trying to regain his balance.
Janie came closer. “Are you all right?”
He gave her a brief sideways glance. “Ya, I’ll be fine.”
“Your head is really bleeding,” Janie warned. “I think you need to sit down.”
“I’m okay,” he insisted before turning toward the last passenger. “Give me your hand, and I’ll help you down.”
When the woman hesitated, he offered her a shaky smile. He was clearly trying to ignore his injuries. He swayed again, and Janie held up her hand to grab him. But then she stopped, not wanting to appear forward.
“I won’t let you fall,” he promised his passenger. “We need to get you out of this buggy before the other back wheel collapses.”
The woman took his hand, and again he grimaced as he helped her down. He let a young man who had been leading the passengers to the benches take over, then placed a shaky hand on the side of the buggy for support as the blood continued to trickle down his cheek and drip onto his gray shirt.
“Please listen to me,” Janie pleaded, her voice thick with worry. “You need medical attention. Look.” She pointed at the red spots dotting his shirt.
He glanced down at his chest and then met her gaze. His eyes were honey brown. “I’ll be okay. I need to take care of my passengers.”
“I don’t think you should—” Before Janie could finish, the man took a step and then staggered. Janie grabbed his arm, steadying him. “Lean on me, and I’ll get you to that picnic table over there,” she instructed, nodding toward the table where she’d been eating lunch. “I’m Janie Lantz. This is my first day working here.”
“Jonathan Stoltzfus.”
The man followed her instructions, and she slowly led him to the picnic table. He sank down onto the bench and slouched back against the table.
“Danki,” he muttered, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what happened.”
“You need medical attention,” she repeated, taking a clean handkerchief from her apron pocket. “Now, sit here before you fall and hurt yourself worse, and press this against that cut to stop the bleeding.”
Before Jonathan could take the handkerchief, Craig rushed over. “Jonathan! What happened?”
“I’m not sure.” Jonathan shook his head and rubbed his left arm. “I thought I signaled before I turned into the driveway, but the driver hit us out of nowhere.”
“Janie, Jonathan needs a bandage for his head,” Craig said. “Would you please go find Bianca?”
“Ya.” Janie turned to Jonathan and handed him the handkerchief. “Wait for me here, okay?”
“I can’t just sit here.” Jonathan shook his head. “I need to take care of my passengers.”
“I’ll check on everyone,” Craig promised. “And the EMTs should be here any minute. Let Janie take care of you.”
Jonathan hesitated, then blew out a deep sigh. “All right.”
Janie touched Jonathan’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
The sirens became deafeningly loud as two ambulances, a state police cruiser, and a fire engine steered into the parking lot. The firemen and EMTs began assisting the injured passengers and the two state policemen approached the driver of the car.
Janie saw Bianca rushing toward the chaos, her auburn ponytail bouncing behind her. Janie raced over to her.
“Bianca, Jonathan fell out of the buggy and has a gash on his head. We need some supplies for him.”
“Sure. Take what you need while I distribute these ice packs. Just leave my kit on that bench there.”
Janie gathered an alcohol wipe, antibiotic ointment, gauze pads, and a large bandage. When she returned to the picnic table, Jonathan looked up at her. His bright brown eyes stunned her. She’d never before seen eyes that resembled the honey she purchased at the Bird-in-Hand Farmers’ Market.
“Let me look at that wound,”
she said, taking away the bloodied handkerchief and examining Jonathan’s forehead. “I’m going to clean it with alcohol and then put on some ointment and a bandage. Are you allergic to antibiotic ointment?”
Jonathan gave her a blank look. “I don’t think so. Are you a nurse or something?”
She looked incredulous. “No, of course I’m not a nurse, but I helped take care of mei onkel Raymond until he passed away in the spring. He was weak from dialysis, and I took care of his wounds a few times when he fell.” She cleaned the gash with the alcohol wipe, and he sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he said softly, his eyes squeezed shut.
She cleaned the blood off his face, applied ointment to the wound, and covered it with the bandage.
“I did the best I could, and it doesn’t look too bad despite so much blood. But you should still have a doctor look at it in case you need stitches,” Janie said.
“Danki,” he said, again softly, absently rubbing his left arm.
“Do you think your arm is broken?” she asked as she slipped the wrappers from the bandage, alcohol wipe, and ointment into her apron pocket.
Jonathan glanced down at his arm. “The impact threw me out of the buggy, and I landed on it. I don’t think it’s broken, but it hurts. It might be sprained.”
“I saw you fall.” She pointed at her abandoned lunch bag behind him. “I was sitting here eating lunch when it happened.”
“You saw it?”
“Ya.”
“I thought I signaled before I started guiding the horse into the driveway. Did you happen to notice if I did?”
“You did.” She nodded. “I saw your blinker.” She started to tell him the driver wasn’t paying attention when his face contorted with anguish.
“I can’t believe it. I was so careful.” He seemed to be talking to himself instead of to her.
Maybe she should wait to tell him the rest until after he had calmed down a little. Besides, she’d already confirmed he signaled his turn, and that alone made him completely innocent.
