by Jo Ann Brown
Mercy yawned as Jeremiah entered the kitchen. She wouldn’t ever get tired of looking at the sparkle of happiness in his eyes when his gaze shifted to her.
Picking up the last of the dishes, she put them in the sink. “Next time I’m not going to plan a wedding the day after you throw a birthday party for me.”
“I’d rather hoped you wouldn’t ever be planning another wedding.” He gave her one of the scintillating smiles she adored.
“Sunni will marry someday.”
He chuckled. “Let me enjoy her being a kind before I think of her marrying and making me a grossdawdi. Now admit it. You had a wunderbaar time at the party.”
“I enjoyed every moment of it, but the idea of another huge party tomorrow is overwhelming.”
“Be grateful you’re here instead of the tenant house.” Jeremiah slid his arm around her waist, but kept his other hand behind his back. Was he hiding something? “I think every corner is covered with food to be served tomorrow. Mamm and my sisters-in-law cooked as if there were forty families here instead of seven. I don’t know if they’ve left me a place to sleep.”
“Most of my relatives will be coming in the morning. They kindly found places to stay in the villages around here, so the house won’t be filled to capacity before the ceremony begins.” Her eyes widened as she recalled the service would be in High German, a language she was struggling to learn. She recognized more words every church Sunday. “Jeremiah, did you ask—?”
He tapped her nose. “All my siblings, except Isaiah who, as an ordained minister, will be helping with the service, and their spouses have offered to translate portions of the ceremony not in English as well as the songs.”
“My family will know most of them, I’m sure.” She smiled. “I’ve already warned them not to harmonize and to sing really, really, really slow.”
“Look what I found!” called an excited voice from the stairs.
Sunni and the boy they again called Paul ran into the kitchen, sliding to a stop inches from Mercy. Jeremiah smiled at them. Sunni would become his daughter after tomorrow. Paul would be their son as soon as the adoption paperwork was completed in the coming weeks.
It was as if Paul had been with them his whole life. When he’d returned to the Kentons for the planned visit, Whitney returned with him only a few hours later.
“The Kentons changed their minds yet again,” the social worker had said with an outraged frown. “I can assure you they won’t have another chance. As you said, Mercy, jerking a child around is cruel.”
Paul shoved an envelope into Mercy’s hand.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I found it in the back of the top drawer in my dresser when I was trying to find clean socks.” The boy’s room continued to look as if a gale swept through it twice a day. “It’s got your name on it.”
Mercy gasped when she recognized Grandpa Rudy’s handwriting on the envelope. Could it be the will she’d searched in vain for? She hoped not, because that could complicate Jeremiah’s ownership of the farm he’d closed on four months ago.
Pulling out the single sheet with quivering fingers, she read aloud:
“My dear Mercy,
“I hope you and your darling daughter have found the perfect home for yourselves with the proceeds from the farm. I know you wanted the farm to make a camp for city children, but my farm needs too much work for you and Sunni to handle alone.
“I have enclosed a copy of the deed for fifteen acres across the road from the farm. It’s big enough for you to build a house, a barn and riding area for your summer kids.”
“Fifteen acres?” Jeremiah glanced at the surprisingly flat fields edged by Harmony Creek. “Why didn’t we see your grossdawdi’s name as a neighboring landowner on the deed for this property when I closed on this farm?”
“I don’t know.” She continued reading.
“Ask Jeremiah Stoltzfus for his help. He seems like a good man, for my farm and for you.”
She smiled at Jeremiah, who was shaking his head in amazement.
“I never guessed,” he said, “why he asked me so many questions before he agreed to sell me the farm. Your grossdawdi was a matchmaker, Mercy.”
“He knew a good thing when he saw it.” She gave him a quick kiss before continuing to read Grandpa Rudy’s letter.
“The land has been held in trust for you. Make your difference, Mercy, in other lives. But remember you don’t carry a debt for how your life has turned out. You may think you are beholden to us for you being a part of the family. You aren’t. You weren’t an obligation. You were a blessing, a gift to all of us.”
It was signed “your loving grandpa.”
She pressed the letter to her heart as she whispered, “I love you, too, Grandpa Rudy.” Raising her eyes to Jeremiah’s, she said, “We have Wayne’s approval, and we can have Come Along Farm and your farm. What an amazing birthday gift!”
“Would you like another?” Sunni asked. “It’s time, Jeremiah.”
“Time for what?” Mercy saw the ill-concealed grins on the children’s—no, she needed to use her Deitsch—the kinder’s faces.
Jeremiah took her hand and sat her at the table. “Before anything else, I want to tell you I’ve solved another mystery for you. When I spoke with your parents during their visit here last month, they were as surprised as you were to learn the box of possessions from Abuelita’s apartment ended up in Rudy’s attic. They did know about the box, because your social worker mentioned it. Apparently, your parents were in the middle of a move because your daed was changing jobs around the time you came to them. Your mamm assumes they gave your social worker this address to make sure the box was safely delivered.” He drew his hand from behind his back and handed her a manila envelope. “Open it.”
The envelope wasn’t thick, so there couldn’t be anything more than a page or two inside. Was it something to do with Paul’s adoption? No, Whitney had said they’d filled out all the necessary forms, though there would be more to sign the day Paul’s adoption became final.
“Open it!” Sunni urged.
“Open it!” shouted Paul, and the two kinder began to repeat the words over and over.
Mercy did and reached inside. She pulled out a single slick piece of paper. It was blank, so she turned it over.
“Oh, my!” she whispered as she stared at the photograph. The woman’s face matched the shape of hers, and the man’s eyes crinkled as hers did when she smiled. Her parents! It was the photo she’d last seen whole the day Abuelita died. “But how...?” She couldn’t finish the question because words refused to push past the thick lump in her throat.
Jeremiah sat beside her and leaned her head against his shoulder so they looked at the picture together. “I found an address on the framed photograph. I wrote to the photography studio and asked if they were still in business. I heard from the wife of the man who’d taken that picture. He’s passed away, and their son is running the business. They searched the old files and found the negative for the picture of your parents. I had them make you a new print.”
“Look!” She motioned for the children to come closer. “These are your grandparents. Gilberto and Amada Ramirez. They—” She sat up straight. “But I’m Amish since I was baptized last month, and the Amish don’t like photographs.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “We don’t like photos taken of us. Your parents weren’t Amish, so there’s no problem with you having it.”
“Danki,” she whispered as she wept.
“Are you sad, Mommy?” asked Sunni.
“We want you to be happy,” Paul quickly added.
“I’m happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.” She hugged each of them.
Jeremiah said, “I wanted your family to be as complete as possible on our wedding day.”
Holding the picture over her heart, she put he
r other arm around Paul and Sunni. As Jeremiah drew them closer, she said, “You’ve given me what I wanted my whole life. A family that’s all my own.”
“And my own, too,” he said.
“And my own,” repeated the kinder together.
They all laughed in the moment before Jeremiah captured her lips that would be his for the rest of their lives.
* * * * *
Don’t miss these other AMISH HEARTS stories from Jo Ann Brown:
AMISH HOMECOMING
AN AMISH MATCH
HIS AMISH SWEETHEART
AN AMISH REUNION
A READY-MADE AMISH FAMILY
AN AMISH PROPOSAL
Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE TEXAN’S TWINS by Jolene Navarro.
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Dear Reader,
All of us face disappointment at some time in our lives, especially when something gets in the way of our dreams. Both Jeremiah and Mercy had big dreams for themselves and for ways they could help others. When those dreams are in danger of being thwarted, they have to work together to remember a very basic lesson. God has a plan for each of us, and we need to understand that sometimes the answer to a prayer is “No” or “Not now.” The important thing, I’ve learned as a writer and as a human, is to keep going and have faith so I can discover the wonderful things God has waiting for me.
Visit me at www.joannbrownbooks.com. Look for my next story coming soon from Harlequin Love Inspired, the first in a new series set in Harmony Creek Hollow.
Wishing you many blessings,
Jo Ann Brown
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The Texan's Twins
by Jolene Navarro
Chapter One
The numbers blurred on the computer screen as the reality of Danica’s financial situation became clear. The bank statement bore the proof that her dream of a thriving animal sanctuary was morphing into a nightmare. She rubbed her eyes and opened the grant proposal file.
Linda Edward had trusted her to take care of the fur babies. Danica’s father thought it was a waste of time and money, but it wasn’t only her dream in jeopardy. The animals depended on the facility. There were a couple of big cats and a crippled bear that had nowhere else to go.
She leaned back and sighed. Was she fighting so hard just to prove her father wrong? He had always been right before. Glancing above her desk, she took the time to count her blessings.
Most days, the montage of family pictures and her daughters’ artwork inspired her. Including one photo with her and her mother bottle-feeding an injured fawn. It had been taken the week before her mother’s accident. Danica had been the same age her twins were now when she lost her mother.
Her sisters reassured her their mom would be one hundred percent on board with the sanctuary. Nikki, her oldest sister, told her to ignore her father’s grumbling. It was just his way of dealing with anxiety. With her history, he had a good reason to worry.
Scanning the happy memories and big life events, she realized one was missing. The only photo from her wedding. It was hidden away in her room, deep in her closet. She’d thought about burning it, but one day her twins might have questions.
Her daughters. Her fingertips brushed the rhinestone clusters along the edge of the frame the girls had made. They had their father’s beautiful eyes. As much as Reid’s abandonment had almost destroyed her, he’d also given her the greatest gift. Her five-year-old twins inspired her to be a fighter.
Leaning back, she pulled a folder from the cabinet behind her. Enough musing—she had a future to figure out. The past was the past.
Danica needed a plan to save the animals. Otherwise, the wildlife rescue would be forced to close its doors, and she’d lose the land. The spiral of death swirled on the outdated computer. Waiting, she swiveled the old office chair to the right. The large window faced the east.
From here, she could see a couple of ponies playing with a miniature donkey. They’d been rescued from a roadside carnival, and now the trio romped in the sun.
Finally, the file opened. Before she started, a vehicle crunched the gravel in the front drive. Praying it was the exciting news James had hinted about at church on Sunday, she made her way to the door. As the local parole officer, he often sent her workers that needed community hours. Free labor was always a win.
The old unmarked Uvalde County car came to a stop at her door. Hope surged through her veins. James Bolton was also on her board, and he knew she needed someone who could manage the unique diet plans and daily health issues of multiple species, along with transportation. It was hard to find trained and experienced people who were willing to work for free. If he had a parolee with that background, it would be a perfect fit for what she needed to complete the application.
Standing next to the patrol car, James waved. “Hey, beautiful. I come bearing gifts. You can take me to the movies to show your gratitude.” He wiggled his dark blond eyebrows.
She shook her head and grinned. The county officer was always flirting with her, but she never took him seriously. “James Bolton, you’d hate the movie I’d make you see.” She glanced to the passenger’s side of the car. He went around to open the back door, but the man stayed inside. With the partition between the seats, she couldn’t make out much.
If he was a vet tech, she might run and hug him. On the edge of the step, she turned to James. “Please tell me your latest ward is certified in animal husbandry?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Everything inside her wanted to dance and sing. She lifted her face to the sun. Thank You, God.
A hand appeared on the top of the door, and in slow motion the man straightened. His head stayed down, the cowboy hat blocking his face. He was over six feet tall and well built. Younger than she’d expected. He didn’t move. She hoped he was all right.
The man just stood there for a while. He removed his cowboy hat and slowly raised his head. His eyes reached hers.
A rush of ice froze her blood in its place. There was no way. She could not be seeing the person she thought she was seeing. It didn’t make sense. Rubbing her eyes, she looked again. His dark skin highlighted startling gray-green eyes that stared straight at her. The exact same eyes as her daughters’.
“Danica, this is my latest parolee, Reid McAllister. He comes with exceptional references and the experience you need. Reid, this is...”
James kept talking, but he no longer existed in her world. Reid McAllister stood in front of her. The man who had vowed to love her forever, before she knew how short foreve
r was.
After a six-year vanishing act, her husband, the father of her twins, stood at the steps of her sanctuary.
Her heart stopped, and her knees went numb. To remain standing, she wrapped her fingers around the post. Her girls!
In a panic, her gaze darted around the area. The girls weren’t here. They were safe with her sister. Forcing her attention back to James, she took a deep breath and tried to gain control of her brain.
That was a problem she always had around Reid. Crazy sounded fun and reasonable. But the impulsive, reckless girl she’d been was gone now. She needed sensible, rational thoughts.
No one knew she was foolish enough to elope and marry a man her father didn’t even like, except the man standing in front of her. A parolee.
Reid in prison? She was going to lose her lunch.
Strong fingers gripped her elbow. Blinking, she focused on her friend. He was safe. James stepped closer. “Do you need to sit down? Are you sick? What’s wrong?”
He led her to the large wooden bench by the front door. Looking over the uniformed shoulder, she found Reid. At some point, he had moved closer to her and now stood at the bottom of the steps, hands in his pockets.
His expression was as hard as the cold stone of the Texas Hill Country. This man wasn’t her Reid.
Her Reid had always had a smile and a spark in his eyes for her. The gray-green of his irises struck her, but they looked flat and cold now. His black hair was cropped close to his skull. What had he done to end up in prison, and why hadn’t he told her?
She rubbed her head. “It hurts.”
“I’m going to get you some water and aspirin. Don’t move.” James disappeared through the front door.
Reid was as still as a snake trying to hide in the tall grass. He just stood there and stared at her, his full lips in a small snarl. Acting like a rescue animal that didn’t trust anyone, even the ones trying to help. He had no right to be mad at her. She was the injured party here.
