Where Healing Blooms

by Vannetta Chapman

  Together, they made an odd sort of family, but perhaps it was a family God could use. One God could bless, and one that would endure through the seasons.

  Perhaps together they could create a place where healing blooms.

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  1. Emma is struggling to find purpose for her life. She’s content, but she also feels an emptiness because she’s not needed in the way she once was. How do the people in her life convince her otherwise? What does Scripture say about our service to the Lord? (Read Colossians 3:23.)

  2. We never learn the details of Joseph’s history with his family. The author purposely left this out so that you could envision people in your community who need help. The bishop does make it plain that Joseph has not been physically abused. What specific things can we do to help those around us who are experiencing a harsh home life?

  3. Mary Ann has kept her secret buried in the garden for many years until she felt the time was right to reveal the box. What are some reasons that we keep secrets, and how do we know the right time to reveal them?

  4. At the beginning of the story, Emma suspects she is too old for romantic love. Read I Corinthians 13:4–7. What does the Bible say about love?

  5. Gardens are a place of healing for many of us. Discuss the gardens in your life (past and present) and why they have been special to you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book is dedicated to my husband’s Uncle Joe. Though he is now legally blind, he still keeps a garden. He’s the person to see when I need a cutting or have questions about why something isn’t flourishing. His garden is a thing of beauty, and he is an inspiration to me.

  Thanks also to my prereaders: Donna, Dorsey, and Kristy. You girls know I love you. Becky Philpott is a joy to work with and a fabulous editor. I’d also like to once again thank Mary Sue Seymour, who is a wonderful agent and a good friend.

  I enjoyed this return visit to northern Indiana. If you’re in the area, I encourage you to visit the quilt gardens in Middlebury, Goshen, Nappanee, Elkhart, and Shipshewana.

  And finally . . . “always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20).

  Blessings,

  Vannetta

  An Excerpt from Rooted in Love,

  by Beth Wiseman

  ONE

  Rosemary crossed her legs, folded her arms across her chest, and tried to focus on the bishop’s final prayer as he wrapped up the worship service. Saul Petersheim was making that a difficult task. She’d made it clear to Saul that she was not interested in dating him, but the man still gave it his best shot from time to time.

  “He’s doing it again,” Rosemary whispered to Esther. “Smiling and staring at me.”

  Her best friend grinned. “Are you ever going to give that poor fellow a break and go out with him?”

  “We’ve been through all this, Esther. Saul and I dated when we were sixteen. It didn’t work out then, and it wouldn’t work out now.” Rosemary clamped her mouth closed when she realized that Bishop Glick had stopped talking and was staring at her, along with most of the congregation. She could feel the heat rising from her neck to her cheeks, so she sat taller, swallowed hard, and didn’t breathe for a few seconds.

  “See, Saul even gets me in trouble at worship service,” Rosemary said once the bishop had recited the final prayer and dismissed everyone. She stood up, smoothed the wrinkles from her white apron, and shook her head.

  Esther chuckled. “You’re twenty-one years old. I think you’re responsible for your own actions at this point.”

  Rosemary sighed as they waited for several of the older women to pass by before they eased into the line that was forming toward the kitchen. “I guess. I just wish Saul would find someone else,” she whispered as she glanced over her shoulder toward him. “Someone better suited to him.” The words stung when she said them aloud.

  “Saul only has eyes for you.” Esther smiled. “And I don’t understand why you won’t give him another chance. It was five years ago.”

  Rosemary bit her bottom lip, tempted to tell Esther the whole story. But every time she considered telling her friend the truth, she stopped herself. There was once a time when Rosemary couldn’t picture herself with anyone but Saul.

  All the men had gone in the other direction toward the front door, most likely to gather in the barn to tell jokes and smoke cigars while the women prepared the meal. Rosemary shrugged. “It just wouldn’t work out.”

  Esther picked up a stack of plates from the counter and shook her head. “I don’t understand you, Rosemary. Saul is one of the most desirable single men in our district. The fact that someone else hasn’t already snagged him is mind-boggling.” She nudged Rosemary’s shoulder. “But I really do think he is holding out for you.”

  “Well, he is wasting his time.” Rosemary picked up a pitcher of tea and followed Esther out the kitchen door and onto the porch. As they made their way down the steps toward the tables that had been set up in the yard, Rosemary commented to Esther that the Lord couldn’t have blessed them with a more beautiful day. She wasn’t going to let thoughts about Saul ruin it.

  It seemed like spring had arrived overnight following a long winter that had seen record-low temperatures in Lancaster County. The Zooks were hosting church service today, and their flower beds were filled with colorful blooms. Rosemary glanced to her right at the freshly planted garden, then sighed, knowing how disappointed her mother would be if she were still alive. Rosemary hadn’t planted a garden in four years. She’d tried to maintain the flower beds, but even that effort had failed.

  She’d filled up most of the tea glasses when she saw Saul walking toward her. She swallowed hard. All these years later, Saul still made her pulse quicken.

  “You look as pretty as ever, Rosie.” Saul pushed back the rim of his straw hat, then looped his thumbs beneath his suspenders. There was no denying that Saul was a handsome man with his dark hair, deep-blue eyes, and boyish dimples. He had a smile that could melt any girl’s heart. Aside from her father, Saul was the only other person who called her Rosie, and a warm feeling filled her when he did. But she’d never tell him that.

  Rosemary looked up at him and forced a smile, wishing things were different. “Danki, Saul.” She turned to walk away, but he was quickly in stride with her. “Can I help you with something?” she said as she continued to walk toward the house. She kept her eyes straight ahead and masked any facial expression.

  “Nee. Just going inside.” He scratched his chin. “And trying to figure out how long it’s been since I asked you out. Wondering if I should try again.”

  Rosemary stopped midstep. She glanced around to see if anyone was in earshot, and after waiting for one of her brothers to jet past them, she said, “I–I just don’t think it’s a gut idea for us to date. I’m very busy trying to run a household full of boys and take care of mei daed.” She locked eyes with his, knowing she’d do better to avoid looking at him altogether.

  “Did I hear hesitation in your voice?” He grinned, and Rosemary’s knees went weak. Saul wasn’t just nice-looking, he was also well respected within the community and known to have a strong faith. He was sure to be a good husband and provider since he ran a successful construction company. He’d taken over his father’s business when his father never fully recovered from back surgery. But there were two reasons Rosemary wasn’t going to get involved with Saul. And one of them was walking toward them. Her five-year-old brother stopped in front of her, his face drawn into a pout.

  “I can’t find Jesse or Josh.” Abner stared up at Rosemary.

  “They’re around here somewhere.” Rosemary straightened her youngest brother’s hat, making a mental note to cut his blond bangs when they got home. “We’ll be eating soon, and neither Jesse nor Joshua is going to miss a meal.”

  Saul squatted in front of Abner. “Anything I can help you with, buddy?”

  Abner shook his head. “Nee.”

  R
osemary looked down at her feet for a moment. Saul was born to be a father. She’d watched him with the kinner in their district over the years. The man was loving and kind to anyone he came in contact with. She needed to get away from him before she threw herself into his arms or said something she’d regret. She held up the empty pitcher and focused on Abner. “I’ve got to go refill this and help get lunch on the table. Don’t go far.” Then she turned to Saul, and a sadness weighed so heavy on her heart, she couldn’t even force another smile. “I have to go.”

  Saul scratched his chin again as he watched Rosemary walk away. Most days, he wondered why he continued to pursue her since she always turned him away. But every now and then he would see something in her beautiful brown eyes that made him think he might still have a chance. Or like today . . . he was sure he’d heard regret in her voice.

  Sighing, he turned and headed back to the barn. As he pulled open the door, the stench of cigar smoke assaulted him. He’d never cared for this recreational activity that some of the men practiced. It used to be reserved for after the Sunday meal, but somewhere along the line, a few of the men began having a smoke before they ate. Saul enjoyed the jokes and company of the other fellows, but considering John Zook had already lost one barn to a fire, Saul was surprised he allowed smoking in his new one. The men were already walking toward the door, so Saul turned around, and they all made their way to the tables.

  Saul took a seat at the table beneath a large oak tree, mostly because Rosemary’s father, Wayne Lantz, was sitting there. Wayne was a leader, a fair man, and someone Saul had always looked up to. Saul wouldn’t be surprised if he became bishop someday. He was also the first person on the scene of any emergency and available whenever a neighbor had a crisis. Saul glanced toward the Zook barn. On the day of the barn raising, Wayne had spent more time working than any of the other men. And even after his wife died four years ago, he continued to do for others.

  “Any luck with that dochder of mine?” Wayne’s face was void of expression as he picked up his glass of tea, then took several large gulps.

  Saul had never been sure if Wayne approved of his pursuing Rosemary. “Nee. She still won’t give me the time of day.” He reached for his own glass, took a large drink, and hoped that his answer had sounded casual enough.

  One corner of Wayne’s mouth lifted into a subtle grin. Saul wasn’t sure if the man was impressed with Saul’s persistence or if he was happy that Rosemary wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Wayne was quiet.

  Rosemary walked up to the table carting a full pitcher of tea. She’d stolen Saul’s heart the summer they’d both turned sixteen. That was the year she had blossomed into a woman, and the maturity fit her perfectly, both her figure and her personality. She’d been full of life, always laughing, and a bright light wherever she went. Saul was pretty sure she’d stolen a lot more hearts than just his that summer. He was blessed to have dated Rosemary for three months. But then one day after worship service, she’d broken up with him without giving him a good reason why. Through her tears, she’d mumbled something about the two of them not being right for each other, and she’d run off before Saul could get a better answer. She’d refused to talk about it in the months that followed.

  Then her mother died the following year, and everything changed. She withdrew from everyone, and responsibility swallowed her up as she tended to her father and siblings. But Saul had seen the woman Rosemary was meant to be.

  She walked around the table topping off glasses with iced tea, and when she got to her father, she set the pitcher on the table, then brushed lint from the arm of his black jacket. Wayne glanced at her and smiled, and in a rare moment, Rosemary smiled back. She left the pitcher on the table before she walked away, not one time glancing in Saul’s direction. The six other men at the table were deep in conversation about a new buggy maker in town, an Englisch man who was building the buggies cheaper than anyone else. Saul was only half-listening when Rosemary’s father leaned closer to him.

  “I’d tell you to give up, but I’m guessing that isn’t going to happen.”

  Saul shook his head and grinned as they both watched Rosemary walk across the yard to the house. “Nee.”

  Wayne ran his hand the length of his dark beard that was threaded with gray. He didn’t look at Saul, but kept his eyes on Rosemary as she walked up the porch steps.

  “Will be a blessed man to win her heart.” Wayne kept his eyes on his daughter. “She’s so much like her mudder, though. Hard to tell what’s going on in her head.” He turned to Saul, and the hint of a smile formed. “But she will be well worth the time invested if you are that man.”

  Everyone had thought Wayne Lantz would remarry quickly after his wife died. Widowers and widows were encouraged to marry another as soon as possible. But Edna Lantz had been a fine woman. Saul figured Wayne was having a hard time finding happiness with someone else.

  Even though Rosemary never did tell Saul why she broke up with him so suddenly, he couldn’t imagine spending his life with anyone else. He’d tried to bring up the subject from time to time, but it had just put even more distance between them. But realistically, how long could he go on pursuing her?

  The story continues in Rooted in Love by Beth Wiseman.

  An Excerpt from Murder Simply Brewed

  by Vannetta Chapman

  PROLOGUE

  Middlebury, Indiana

  April 14

  Amber Wright had the perfect job.

  Five minutes after leaving work, she walked into her home, set her purse and keys on a small table by the front door, and proceeded to walk across the living room. Leo rubbed against her long denim skirt, meowing and generally kicking up quite a fuss. She squatted and scratched the yellow cat behind his ears, but he pulled away and strutted off to the kitchen, his tail high and his meows beckoning her.

  “You cannot be starving.”

  Leo blinked at her, then wound a figure eight around her legs.

  “Spoiled. That’s what you are.” She opened a can of cat food and dumped it into his bowl.

  His purring increased until it resembled an idling engine.

  “Your manners are deteriorating. You didn’t even ask me about my day!” Amber moved to the refrigerator and peered inside, but she found nothing she could rustle up for dinner. Eggs maybe, except she’d had eggs the night before.

  The doorbell rang before she could fall into despair over her lack of cooking skills. Cooking? She didn’t even bother to grocery shop. The Village kept her busy—the Amish Artisan Village. Set on seventy acres, it included an inn with one hundred rooms, a small conference center, a restaurant, a bakery, and six artisan shops. She loved her job as its general manager, even after twenty-two years. If working full days meant her diet suffered a bit, it was a price she was willing to pay. Besides, she could always order from their restaurant, which served tasty Amish dishes.

  She looked through the front-door glass out at the beautiful Indiana afternoon and saw Larry Sharp, her assistant manager. He was holding a large bouquet of flowers. Larry was short, chubby, and had shockingly red hair. His skin was a pasty white—where it wasn’t freckled. He certainly wouldn’t win any beauty awards, but he was a top-notch assistant manager. Amber was happy to have him working at the Village.

  She opened the inside door, then the storm door, and motioned him inside.

  “For me?”

  “Sorry to bother you. The florist delivered them at four thirty, not realizing you’d be gone.”

  “You mean they don’t know that I arrive at work at seven in the morning? Service is slipping in this town.” Amber carried the flowers—six yellow roses surrounded by daisies and baby’s breath—into her dining room and set them on the table, with Larry following.

  “Strange container.” Larry eyeballed the pig-shaped vase that held the bouquet.

  “Last time it was a boot, complete with spurs.” Amber pointed to the corner bookcase near the dining room window. Every shelf was covered with an
odd assortment of vases. “My sister has an interesting sense of humor. Miranda lives in Biloxi, Mississippi, and I have no idea where she finds such unusual vases.”

  Larry’s gaze shifted from the newest bouquet, raked over the large, purple pig container, then flitted to the bookcase and back again. Finally he shook his head and muttered something that sounded like, “Women.”

  “Do you have time for a soda or some tea?”

  “No. I need to get back. My boss likes supervision on the property at all times.”

  “Indeed I do,” Amber agreed as she walked him back out to the front porch.

  “You haven’t outgrown this house yet?” Larry stared at the tiny yard, the one-car detached garage, and the porch that was barely big enough for the two rockers she’d placed on it.

  “Outgrow the Dawdy Haus? Never!” Amber loved her home. She thanked God for it every night. It was exactly the right size for her and Leo. The home was part of her salary package, provided by the owners of the Village, and it was situated close enough to the offices that she could walk to work when the weather was pleasant.

  Larry shrugged as he stepped off her porch and made his way down her front walk. He’d driven the golf cart over, a vehicle available to both of them though mostly Larry used it. He checked each store after closing, and the golf cart allowed him to move more quickly around the Village property. Amber followed him to the cart and was about to wave good-bye when a vintage blue-and-white pickup truck squealed out of the Village parking lot and down the road.

  They both turned to stare after Ethan Gray. He was the manager of A Simple Blend, one of the shops that circled the small pond at the Village. Ethan accelerated the truck down the road, switching into the oncoming lane to pass a slow-moving sedan.