Amish Romance BOXED Set: Amish Days: Sally's Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance)

by Brenda Maxfield

  “Huh?” I asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  She looked with meaning at the twisted towel in my hands.

  My fingers relaxed, and I sheepishly hung the towel back on the rack. “Oh. I see what you mean.”

  Mary’s gaze was direct and bold. “There’s more,” she stated.

  I edged away a step. “What?”

  “I know you love our Hope, and I know you’re concerned about her. But there’s more.”

  I didn’t respond. She came close and peered at me as if I were a specimen at a nature preserve.

  “Out with it,” she demanded.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Sally, for crying out loud, just tell me. Who is it?”

  Mary was too smart for her own good. And too annoying.

  “Just tell me.” Her eyes narrowed.

  “Okay. Fine!” I exclaimed. “It’s Zeke Zook.”

  Mary stepped back, eyes wide. “Zeke Zook?”

  I looked through the kitchen door to see if anyone was within hearing distance. “Shhh.”

  “Ach, nee,” she said slowly. “This could be a problem.”

  “I know. Your friend Josie. Right?”

  Mary nodded. “She’s set her cap on him.” Her brows scrunched into a frown. “Wait. Did Zeke say something to you? Before you left? But how could he? He would never court an Englisch girl.”

  I took a deep breath and forced the worry raging through my heart to be still. “We were friends.”

  “Josie likes him.”

  “I know that. But so do I.”

  Mary sighed. “Josie will be furious with me if I help you.”

  “You don’t have to help me.”

  “You’re my cousin.”

  “You don’t have to help me,” I repeated.

  Mary tilted her head and gazed at me. “Suit yourself.” With those terse words, she marched out of the kitchen, through the washroom, and out toward the barn. I stared after her, acutely aware that once again, I’d made Mary Lehman angry.

  Aunt Elizabeth came into the kitchen. “Are you needing a ride to Hope’s?”

  “Nee, Aenti,” I said. “I’ll ride the bike.”

  She nodded. “It’s mighty nice to have you back, Sally girl. And mighty nice to hear you picking up our language.”

  I smiled at her and went outside to fetch the bike where it rested behind the spare buggy wheels in the barn. Mary was busy with her goats and didn’t turn around when I passed.

  I felt bad about how we’d left our conversation and called out, “I’m sorry” to her as I hopped onto the bike and headed down the road toward Hope and Abram’s place. When I got near their farm, I saw Hope sitting on the porch swing watching down the road. She saw me and waved. I pedaled faster, skidding a bit in the dirt before jumping off and rushing up the porch steps.

  “Oh, Hope,” I cried.

  She rose and we fell into each other’s arms. I held on tight and felt her shake with silent sobs.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “So very sorry.”

  She pulled away and led me to sit with her on the swing. “I’m glad to see you.” She reached up and tucked a wayward strand of my hair behind my ear. “Are you back then?”

  “I’m back.”

  “For gut?”

  “Jah.”

  She smiled as the word slid from my mouth. “I knew it. You’re going to join the church.” She sniffed and gazed at me.

  I nodded. “You always knew, didn’t you?” I shifted so I was facing her. “Hope, are you all right?”

  She smoothed her apron over her knees. “Jah, I’m all right. I trust in the Lord God. It’s all in His able hands.”

  I shook my head slowly. “I know it is. But are you really okay?”

  She looked at me and her lower lip trembled. “Nee. Not really. My heart is broken.” Her breath caught and tears ran down her cheeks. She gave them an impatient swipe. “But I will be fine. I will.”

  I touched a tear on her cheek. “I know you will. And I know what a broken heart feels like. When Mom died, my world stopped.”

  “Jah, it did.” She gazed out across the fields that stretched for miles. “Sometimes I feel as if I could scream.”

  “Then scream,” I said.

  “Oh, nee. Nee, I couldn’t.” She straightened her shoulders. “It’s all right, Sally. I’m hurting. Abram’s hurting, but it’s all right. We’re all right. We still have each other, and God will bless us with a boppli in His own good time.”

  Beyond her pain, I knew Hope meant every word she said. I lay my head against her shoulder for a moment, then leaned back and regarded her.

  “What happened, Hope? If I can ask.”

  “We don’t know. The midwife told me it happens this way sometimes.” She pressed her hand to her mouth. “The boppli simply wasn’t meant to be.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She nodded.

  “What can I do? How can I help you? Do you have housework that needs done?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve done it all. Keeping busy helps.”

  “It does. I remember.”

  “Abram’s cousin Josiah had to go back home for a couple weeks. His dad got the flu and his brothers needed help. So Abram’s had a hard time keeping up with the chores and the farming what with losing the little one and with Josiah leaving. I’ve done what I can. We’ve had to ask for help.” She sighed. “Today, Zeke Zook is coming. I know you remember Zeke as you penned a letter to him.”

  I went rigid. Remember Zeke? I couldn’t forget him.

  “When’s he coming?” I forced the words out.

  “Any minute, by my thinking.”

  My body started to tingle, and I bit my lips. This was my chance. My chance to see Zeke. My heartbeat increased and a thin layer of sweat broke out on my face. I couldn’t have planned a meeting better myself. My prayer had been answered.

  Then why was my stomach twisting into hot loops?

  Hope put her hand on my arm. “Sally? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes, I am.” My eyes scanned the road, and I saw a buggy approaching from the north. I took a step to the edge of the porch and shaded my eyes against the rising sun. A hush seemed to fall over the entire farm, and the only sound to be heard was the clip-clop of Zeke’s road horse coming closer and closer.

  Zeke pulled into the drive and headed toward the barn. Without thinking, I flew down the steps and rushed over to the buggy just as he was climbing out. He saw me and froze. I froze, too, and we beheld each other.

  Disbelief passed over his face, and his brows crinkled in confusion. “Sally?” he asked, his voice thick.

  “Zeke.” His name was a mere whisper. I drank in his tall good looks, the way his hat still sat on his head at that familiar angle, the astonishing blue of his eyes, and the look of cautious affection on his face.

  He took a step closer, and my heart lurched.

  “What are you doing here?” His voice was incredulous.

  Sudden tears clouded my vision. “I’m back, Zeke.”

  He took another step and his nearness made my senses spin. “For gut?”

  I nodded. His steady gaze was as soft as a caress and underneath I sensed his vulnerability. He reached out his hand as if to touch me then lowered it to his side.

  “And Jack?” he asked.

  “He’s with Dad. I’m back, Zeke,” I said it again, as if unable to believe it myself.

  His face creased into a sudden smile that set my pulse racing even faster. He laughed, deep and warm and rich. And then, he did touch me. He grabbed both my arms with his strong hands and gave me such a look of joy, it took my breath away.

  My smile stretched wider than his, and my heart overflowed with the certainty of it all. I was back. And Zeke was happy, and he loved me. It was there in his eyes for all the world to see.

  Zeke loved me.

  He leaned forward and his lips whispered against my cheek. He remained there, unmoving for a moment,
and I closed my eyes and breathed him in. Somewhere high in the sky, a bird sang and another answered, their sweet warbles filling the air.

  I opened my eyes. “Uncle is speaking with the Bishop this morning. I’m to take instruction.”

  “You are joining the church.” His words resonated with deep contentment.

  “Jah.”

  And then, he threw back his head and let out a whoop of pleasure. He squeezed my arms more tightly and never, never, never, in a million years will I forget the awesome look of delight in his face.

  The End

  Thank you for reading this book! Are you wondering what to read next? Why not read Amish Days: The Runaway? Here’s a sample:

  With every turn of the bicycle wheel, Mary’s dress became heavier. The soggy fabric wound around her legs, making it hard to pedal. The going was slow and the weak light barely lit a few feet in front of her. Strands of icy hair pulled free from her kapp and dripped down her face, making it nearly impossible to see. She should have caught up with Jack by now. Surely, he wasn’t still running at top speed in this storm.

  Mary’s legs pedaled slower and slower as the freezing rain drenched her. She was shivering now, and she set her teeth hard to keep them from chattering. The rain sat frozen on her lashes, and her hands felt welded to the handlebars.

  She couldn’t go on like this. It would take too long, and she’d freeze. What had she been thinking? The crackle of a branches shifting under the weight of the falling ice sliced through the air. She skidded and lost her balance. With a bruising plunge, she fell onto the slick asphalt. Her leg twisted under her and she cried out in pain. Tears mixed with the streaks of sleet on her cheeks as she wriggled to a sitting position. Ignoring the pain in her leg, she stood.

  The bike had slid into a ditch. Tightening her lips, she reached after it, planting her feet hard into the ground, so she wouldn’t fall into the ditch herself. Stretching her arm, she caught the handle bar and yanked with all her might. The bike dislodged and flew toward her, knocking her to the road. The bike crashed on top of her stomach. She lay sprawled on her back with freezing rain pelting her face. She wanted to wail, but her voice stuck in her throat. She felt the wet soak through to her back, and the pure absurdity of it all jolted her. Instead of crying, she held her hands over her face to block the sleet and a strange chortle rose in her throat.

  There she lay, the girl who would always, always, always be in the shadow of her older sister. Her chortles grew heavy and warped and morphed into sobs.

  Disgusted with herself, she shuddered and shoved the bike off of her stomach and struggled to an upright position. She debated what to do, and then, through the sound of the pelting rain, she heard the faint clip clop of hooves. A wobbly stream of light was coming her way. Relief swept through her.

  She squinted through the rain and the dark, waiting for the horse. The cold jolted through her as the buggy closed in. She gave a violent shiver, and the crack of nearby tree branches made her jump. The buggy pulled up beside her and the door opened.

  Josiah?

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  More Hollybrook Amish Romance Books:

  Amish Days 1: Missing Abram

  Are Hope’s dreams of Abram only a fantasy?

  Will his cousin Josiah try to step in?

  Amish Days 2: Abram’s Plan

  Mysterious relatives force Hope

  to leave her Amish home.

  While gone, her fiancé Abram is hurt.

  Will he heal? Can she ever go back?

  Amish Days 3: Abram’s Bride

  Why is Abram refusing to marry Hope?

  Hadn’t he promised her a November wedding?

  Was she to be a jilted bride?

  Amish Days: The Runaway!

  Caught in a cocoon of cold and desperation,

  will Mary admit her feelings for Josiah?

  Will Josiah confirm Mary’s suspicions

  that it’s really her sister that he loves?

  www.brendamaxfield.com