Love Finds You in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania

by Annalisa Daughety

  BY ANNALISA DAUGHETY

  Summerside Press™

  Minneapolis 55337

  www.summersidepress.com

  Love Finds You in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania

  © 2011 by Annalisa Daughety

  ISBN 978-1-60936-212-6

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture references are from The Holy Bible, King James Version (KJV). Scripture references marked NLT are from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation (NLT), copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois. All rights reserved.

  The town depicted in this book is a real place, but all characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or events are purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Koechel Peterson & Associates | www.kpadesign.com

  Interior design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group | www.mullerhaus.net

  Cover image:

  Photos of Lancaster County provided by

  The author is represented by MacGregor Literary, Inc., Hillsboro, Oregon.

  Summerside Press™ is an inspirational publisher offering fresh, irresistible books to uplift the heart and engage the mind.

  Printed in USA.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated in memory of my

  grandpa, H. B. “Pudge” Pearle.

  Not a day goes by that I don’t miss his smile,

  his laugh, and his words of wisdom.

  He was the consummate storyteller, and each

  novel I write carries some of him inside it.

  His legacy lives on through the many lives he touched.

  Although I miss him terribly, I’m comforted by

  the knowledge that he is in a better place.

  Acknowledgments

  The people in my life continue to amaze me with their support as I chase my dream. My mom, Vicky Daughety, is always my first reader. Thanks, Mom, for sacrificing sleep so you could read about Caroline and Lydia Ann and the scrapes I put them in. Sandy Gaskin and Jan Reynolds offered not only their honest and helpful critiques but also encouragement and prayers. Thanks to both of you for your help! Thanks to my editor, Rachel Meisel, and my agent, Sandra Bishop, for their input, encouragement, and prayers.

  The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my savior;

  my God is my rock, in whom I find protection.

  He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of safety.

  PSALM 18:2 NLT

  LANCASTER COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA, IS LOCATED IN THE HEART OF Pennsylvania Dutch Country. Settled in the early 1700s by immigrants in search of religious freedom, the area was named after the English city of Lancaster. Today, tourists flock to the area to visit Amish farms, enjoy local culinary delights, and take in the beautiful scenery. Because Lancaster County encompasses both urban (the city of Lancaster) and rural (Strasburg, Bird-in-Hand, Paradise, Intercourse) settings, there truly is something there for everyone. Local businesses cater to tourists, offering a variety of Amish-made goods. Beautiful quilts, handmade furniture, and baked goods are just some of the things that can be found in the quaint shops. Roadside stands are scattered around the countryside and usually run by Amish women and children selling delicious baked goods and homemade root beer. Visitors of all ages can enjoy spending the night on a working dairy farm, riding the Strasburg Railroad, touring the Sturgis Pretzel House, and visiting the Bird-in-Hand Farmer’s Market. No visit to Lancaster County is complete with-out stopping to see one of the county’s twenty-nine historic covered bridges and indulging in a slice of the local specialty, shoofly pie. A visit to Lancaster County is one that won’t soon be forgotten—and one that visitors will likely want to repeat.

  Annalisa Daughety

  Chapter One

  The swirling clouds were growing darker by the minute. Lydia Ann Raber looked up at the sky then quickened her step, hoping she could reach the safety of her quilt shop before the storm arrived. The air was warm and thick, and she could smell the rain in the distance.

  “Lydia Ann!” Mrs. Troyer called out from the bakery across the street. “They’re saying the storm will be a bad one. Come with me to the General Store basement.” The older woman locked the door of her shop and cast a worried glance at the clouds. Most of the buildings in downtown Charm, Ohio, were only one story, but the Charm General Store had a good-sized basement.

  Lydia Ann gave the sky another look. She’d always hated storms. When she was a little girl, she’d tried to convince her dat to let her bring the horses inside the house so they’d be safe. He’d laughed. “They’re fine in the barn where they belong,” he’d said. “And the gut Lord will keep us safe.”

  She didn’t know why those words, spoken so many years ago, came back to her now. “Oh, I’ll be fine in the shop. The girls will be there soon; school is almost over.” Her twin daughters, Mary and Katie, had just turned six. They always came to the quilt shop after school. Lydia Ann could see Mrs. Troyer’s furrowed brow from across the street. “Go on without me.” She smiled. “It’s probably just going to be a little rain. Nothing to worry about.”

  Mrs. Troyer didn’t look convinced. “But the man on the radio said things could get ugly fast.” She wrapped her arms around her body and shuddered. “It just doesn’t feel right out here.”

  Lydia Ann bit her lip. It did seem too muggy outside to be only late April. “I’ll come over as soon as the girls get here.” She tucked a wayward strand of blond hair into her kapp.

  Her answer seemed to satisfy the Englisher. “See you in a bit, then.” Mrs. Troyer rushed off in the direction of the General Store.

  Five minutes later, Mary and Katie burst through the door of the quilt shop. “It’s going to be a gulley-washer,” Mary exclaimed, parroting one of her dawdi’s favorite expressions. She plopped her lunch cooler on top of the counter. “Teacher told us to come straight here.”

  “She’s a wise woman.” Lydia Ann smiled at her girls.

  Katie gave her a gap-toothed grin. “I like it when it rains. It makes the frogs and worms come out.”

  “Eww.” Mary turned up her nose. “I don’t like those slimy things.”

  Identical all the way down to a dimple in their right cheeks, Katie and Mary had always shared everything. It was only recently that they’d begun to develop individual likes and dislikes.

  “All of God’s creatures are beautiful,” Katie said matter-of-factly. “Right, Mamm?”

  “Indeed.” Lydia Ann grabbed a notebook from the top drawer. She might as well go over the recent quilt orders while they waited for the storm to pass. “Come on, girls. We’re going to the General Store for a bit.”

  They hurried through the door and set out for the store. Thunder boomed in the distance.

  “We’ll wait out the storm there,” Lydia Ann explained, catching sight of Katie’s worried expression. “I’m sure we won’t be the only ones.”

  As she held open the door to the General Store, a jagged streak of lightning flashed. The little girls squealed and ran inside.

  “That one went all the way to the ground,” Mrs. Troyer said from her perch by the window. “The storm is getting closer.”

  “Go on downstairs, girls.” Lydia Ann motioned toward the stairs that led to the basement.

  “I’m glad you decided to come over,” Anna Glick said. The teenage girl stood at her usual spot at the cash register. She’d helped out at Lydia Ann’s quilt shop until she’d gotten a full-time job at the General Stor
e. Lydia Ann had always appreciated her sweet disposition and knew the girl was a great asset. Worry flashed across her pretty face. “The weather radio is on downstairs. Sounds like it isn’t safe to be outside.” Bad storms had swept through the area a couple of years ago and made a lasting impression. Lydia Ann had gone with her mother-in-law to take baskets of food to the men cleaning up the debris after the storm. It had been a real mess, with so many homes and businesses damaged.

  “Everyone needs to come to the basement now,” the store owner said from the top of the stairs, his voice strained. “We’re under a tornado warning.”

  Lydia Ann cast one last glance out the window. It was almost as dark as night. She said a silent prayer for their safety and followed Anna and Mrs. Troyer down the stairs.

  Caroline DeMarco sat numbly on the arm of the leather couch in the expansive living room of her Atlanta mansion. Lance hated it when she sat there. “This isn’t your mawmaw’s house in Hiram,” he’d say mockingly when she reverted to behavior he considered uncouth. Like sitting on the arm of a couch.

  She stood and walked the length of the room, her arms wrapped tightly around her thin frame. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, but for some reason she didn’t feel hungry at all. Cold, though. She was cold. Which for some people might be weird considering the fact that it was nearly May. But Caroline was always cold…except for maybe in July when Atlanta was practically boiling.

  She had to figure out what to do. What would her mama’s advice be? She quickly pushed that thought away. Thinking of Mama only made her sad, and for this moment, she already had all the sadness in her that she could handle. She knew there were reporters outside the house right now—waiting out there in the dark of night, like predators surrounding their prey. And she was the prey.

  Lance. Stupid Lance. He’d had to go and mess up everything…and now there wasn’t even a way for him to fix things.

  Because earlier that afternoon, under the glare of TV cameras and flashing bulbs, her husband—the star pitcher for the Atlanta Braves—had made his last public appearance.

  At his funeral.

  And as the nation mourned the young baseball phenomenon, Caroline was left to pick up the pieces of her shattered life.

  Alone.

  Chapter Two

  Simon Zook climbed down from his buggy and tried to ignore the numbness in his left foot. He stomped the ground a few times to get the blood flowing. Must’ve laced my boot too tight this morning.

  “Welcome, Simon.” Inside, Jeremiah Bellar looked up from the shelf he was filling with jars of his wife’s homemade pepper jelly. “What can I help you with today?” The Bellars’ store sold everything from pastries to postcards.

  Simon smiled. “I’m actually here on behalf of my mamm. She’s not feeling well. I came to get some of that herbal tea she likes to drink when she has a cold.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “Leah always makes me drink some when I so much as sniffle. She says the combination of the herbs will fix me right up.” He grinned sheepishly. “And I suppose she’s right. I haven’t missed a day of work in two years.” He grabbed a bag of tea from the shelf and handed it to Simon. “Is that all you need today?”

  “I think I’ll look around.” Simon knew he should get back to the farm, but his foot was still asleep. Maybe walking around a bit would help.

  “Good morning,” Jeremiah greeted an English couple. “Is this your first time in Lancaster County?”

  “Yes, sir,” the young woman said. “We’re headed to Philly to see some friends, but we wanted to stop here first.”

  “She’s looking for quilts,” the man with her said. “We’ve been to every market and roadside stand in the county, I think.”

  Jeremiah chuckled. “Then I suspect you’ve made a lot of stops.”

  “It’s a beautiful place,” the woman gushed. “We adore Amish Country. Wasn’t it a shame what happened a few days ago?”

  Simon stepped around the corner, curious to hear what the woman was going to say. He hadn’t heard of any bad news lately.

  “A shame, you say?” Jeremiah asked.

  “The tornado that went through that little town in Ohio. We saw it last night on the news. Right in the middle of Amish Country there.” The woman pulled on her husband’s sleeve. “What was the name of the place, honey? It was something so cute.”

  “Charm. Charm, Ohio.”

  Jeremiah backed up, knocking over a display of postcards.

  Simon hurried forward to help his friend. “Are you okay?” He reached out to steady Jeremiah. All the color had gone out of the older man’s face.

  “You know I have family in Charm.” He looked pleadingly at Simon. “Can you look out for things here? I need to go find a phone.”

  Michael Landis tapped on the steering wheel of his SUV. He’d forgotten how annoying it was to be stuck behind a horse and buggy. He considered turning around and heading back to DC—except that he didn’t have a job there anymore. Or an apartment. No girlfriend, either. And when he thought of the dismal situation going on with his checking account right now, just filling up his vehicle with gas would be a challenge. No way he was dipping into his savings just because he happened to be down on his luck.

  Thankfully, his parents had been elated at the thought of having him back in Lancaster County. If he knew them, they’d already planned a big Landis family get-together complete with distant cousins and his elementary-school friends.

  But his older brother had been quiet so far about the decision to move back. Not a huge surprise, though, considering the fact that they hadn’t spoken but twice in the past year. And both of those times, it was only because Phillip happened to answer the telephone at their parents’ house.

  A break in oncoming traffic gave Michael the chance to go around the buggy. Finally. He nodded at the Amish gentleman as he passed.

  His growling stomach reminded him that breakfast had been long ago, and a Pop-Tart at that. For a second he considered stopping at the Bird-in-Hand Farmer’s Market for a quick snack. But by doing that, he was only postponing the inevitable homecoming that awaited him. Might as well get it over with.

  Michael waited at the light and turned onto Old Philadelphia Pike. It was even more congested than he remembered. His mom had mentioned that there were new businesses cropping up, and she hadn’t been exaggerating. He cast a wistful look at the Farmer’s Market but kept driving. The crowded parking lot and multiple tour buses made it easier to pass up.

  Ten minutes and two left turns later, he found himself on the long gravel driveway that led to his childhood home. Even though it had been years since he’d been back, things looked exactly the same.

  A Border collie ran from behind the house, circling the SUV and barking a greeting.

  “Hey, boy.” Michael stepped down from the vehicle and stretched. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “That’s Toby,” his brother said from the door of the large storage shed.

  Michael bent down and scratched the dog behind the ears. “He’s a good-lookin’ dog.”

  “He’s from the same line as Scrappy.” Phillip forced a smile.

  Scrappy had been Michael’s constant companion until the day he’d gone off to college. He still remembered the day Mom had called to tell him that Scrappy had gone to that great hunting ground in the sky. The news had caused him so much heartbreak, he’d refused to ever own another pet.

  Michael’s mouth broke into a wide grin as he spotted his parents hurrying down the porch steps. He fought the urge to run and meet them halfway. That seemed a little childish. He wanted everyone to be clear that although he was the youngest member of the family, he was still a grown man.

  “How long you planning on staying?” Phillip peered into the crowded SUV and cast a wary glance at his younger brother.

  Michael sighed. So much for niceties. “I’m not sure. Not long. I’ll probably try to find a place to rent or something.”

  “Now why would you want t
o do that?” Ellen Landis shot Phillip a scowl before pulling Michael into a hug. “You can stay here as long as you like.” She reached up and patted his face. “You’ve missed Christmas the past two years. At least let me enjoy having you around for a little while before you move out again.” Her face had a few more wrinkles than he was used to seeing, but her eyes were the same shade of blue.

  “Son, I’m so glad you’re home.” Dad caught him in a tight bear hug and pounded on his back. “We were beginning to think we were going to have to send out a search party to get you here.”

  “I guess you’ll be wanting me to go slaughter the fatted calf,” Phillip muttered.

  Mom chuckled. “Now, Phillip, don’t be like that. We’re just happy to have him home.”

  Phillip raised an eyebrow in his brother’s direction. “Welcome back,” he said curtly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed toward the barn, leaving Michael alone with their parents.

  “I know you’ll be losing money every night I’m here. I don’t want to be a burden.” Despite being a working dairy farm, his parents had turned their home into a bed-and-breakfast after Michael and his siblings had left home. The old farmhouse was a tourist favorite, and it wasn’t unusual to have repeat guests.

  “Don’t be silly. You’ll even be staying in your old room.” Mom smiled.

  His dad clapped him on the back again. “And I suspect you’ll earn your keep. Unless you’ve forgotten how to milk a cow.” He chuckled.

  “I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike.” Michael grinned. He’d missed them.

  “Now, come on inside. Let’s get you fed.” Mom looped her arm through his and led him toward the large farmhouse.