by Reid, Ruth
Acclaim for Ruth Reid
“Ruth Reid is skillful in portraying the Amish way of life as well as weaving together miracles with the everyday. In this book, she writes a beautiful tale of romance, redemption, and faith.”
—BETH WISEMAN, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE DAUGHTERS OF THE PROMISE SERIES, ON A MIRACLE OF HOPE
“Ruth Reid pens a touching story of grace, love, and God’s mercy in the midst of uncertainty. A must-read for Amish fiction fans!”
—KATHLEEN FULLER, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE HEARTS OF MIDDLEFIELD SERIES, ON A MIRACLE OF HOPE
“Reid gives readers the hope to believe that there are angels with every one of us, both good and evil, and that the good angels will always win.”
—RT BOOK REVIEWS OF AN ANGEL BY HER SIDE
“An Angel by Her Side brings together not only a protagonist’s inner struggle, but the effect on the character from outside forces. In short, the reader rises, falls, grows, and learns alongside the story’s champion.”
—AMISH COUNTRY NEWS REVIEW
“Reid has written a fine novel that provides, as its series title claims, a bit of ‘heaven on earth.’ ”
—PUBLISHERS WEEKLY ON THE PROMISE OF AN ANGEL
“If The Promise of an Angel is anything to judge by, it looks like [Reid is] going to become a favourite amongst Amish fans.”
—THE CHRISTIAN MANIFESTO
“Ruth Reid captivates with a powerful new voice and vision.”
—KELLY LONG, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF SARAH’S GARDEN AND LILLY’S WEDDING QUILT
“Ruth Reid’s The Promise of an Angel is a beautiful story of faith, hope, and second chances. It will captivate fans of Amish fiction and readers who love an endearing romance.”
—AMY CLIPSTON, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE KAUFFMAN AMISH BAKERY SERIES
Other Books by Ruth Reid
THE AMISH WONDERS NOVELS
A Miracle of Hope
THE HEAVEN ON EARTH NOVELS
The Promise of an Angel
Brush of Angel’s Wings
An Angel by Her Side
© 2014 by Ruth Reid
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
Thomas Nelson titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Scripture quotations are taken from THE NEW KING JAMES VERSION. © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-4016-8833-2 (eBook)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Reid, Ruth, 1963-
A Woodland miracle / Ruth Reid.
pages ; cm. -- (The Amish wonders series)
ISBN 978-1-4016-8830-1 (softcover)
1. Amish--Fiction. 2. Michigan--Fiction. I. Title.
PS3618.E5475W66 2015
813’.6--dc23
2014029128
14 15 16 17 18 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1
I couldn’t write a book about a man from Florida moving to northern Michigan without dedicating it to my own Florida man, Dan Reid, my husband and best friend. Although in our story, the northern Michigan girl moved to Florida. A move I haven’t regretted. Dan, you’ve brought my life so much happiness and I’m blessed to be your wife. With all my love, Ruth
Contents
Glossary
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Epilogue
Reading Group Guide
Acknowledgments
An Excerpt from Her Christmas Pen Pal
Chapter One
About the Author
Glossary
ach: oh
aenti: aunt
Ausbund: Amish hymnal
boppli: baby
bruder: brother
bu, buwes: boy, boys
Budget, the: a weekly newspaper serving Amish and Mennonite communities
daed: dad or father
danki: thank you
dochder: daughter
doktah: doctor
dummkopp: dunce
Englischer: non-Amish
fraa: wife
geh: go
grossdaadi: grandfather
gudder mariye: good morning
gut: good
haus: house
hiya: a greeting
icehaus: icehouse
jah: yes
kaffi: coffee
kalt: cold
kapp: prayer cap worn by all Amish women
kinner: children
kumm: come
lieb: love
maedel: girl
mamm: mom or mother
mammi: grandmother
mei: my
nacht: night
narrisch: foolish
nau: now
nay: no
nett: not
onkel: uncle
Ordnung: the written and unwritten rules of the Amish; the understood behavior by which the Amish in the district are expected to live, passed down from generation to generation. Most Amish know the rules by heart.
outhaus: outhouse
Pennsylvania Deitsch: the language spoken by the Amish
redd-up: clean up
rumschpringe: running-around period that starts when a teenager turns sixteen years old and lasts until the person is ready to make a commitment to God and the Amish way
Schnell, verschteh?: Quickly, understand?
schul: school
smokehaus: smokehouse
sohn: son
wedder: weather
welkom: welcome
wunderbaar: wonderful
Chapter One
PINECRAFT DISTRICT, FLORIDA
Ben Eicher raked his fingers through his damp hair, then pushed his straw hat back into place. He snatched the shovel off the ground and sank it into the dirt. It wasn’t even noon and the thermometer on the bank sign read ninety degrees. He glanced over at his buddy Toby, who seemed oblivious to the rising temperature. The first heat wave of the year, according
to the DJ on the oldies rock station Ben had been listening to all morning.
Planting shrubs wasn’t something he wanted to do the rest of his life. But neither was working for his father in his shoe-repair business. A year ago he worked on a commercial fishing boat. But that was prior to the hurricane. He liked the cool breeze, the scent of salt air, and the endless view of turquoise water. That sure beat digging holes.
Ben gauged the depth of the hole and tossed his shovel. He removed the pink azalea plant from the plastic starter pot and released some of the dirt from around its roots before dropping it into the hole.
Toby covered the plant with loose soil. “When we finish here, we’re supposed to go to the deli and check if they have deliveries for us to make.”
Ben shook his head. “When I finish here I’m either going to the beach, or I’m going to take a dip in the Tidewater Inn’s pool.”
“Tidewater’s still closed.” Toby tapped the mound of dirt around the bush and stood. “Even if the construction was complete, the No Trespassing sign hasn’t kumm down.”
“That might be what the sign says, but they finished working on the pool. There’s water in it.” Ben lifted his shoulder and caught the roll of sweat trickling down the side of his face. He hoped these soaring temperatures in March didn’t indicate a grueling summer ahead. If so, he planned to spend more time swimming.
Toby shook his head. “It’s nett going to work out well.”
“In this roasting heat, I’ll take mei chances.” Ben and Toby had been best friends for a number of years. Twenty-three, if you counted the diaper years when their mothers would get together to quilt and he and Toby shared the same crib during naptime.
“When you’re caught, don’t give the Amish a bad name in the community.” Toby brushed the caked dirt off his knees. “Some of us want to stay and raise a family in Pinecraft, or at least have that option,” he grumbled under his breath. Toby had changed in the past year. He talked more and more about settling down even though he wasn’t courting anyone seriously.
Ben had convinced himself he wanted the same thing at this time last year. Now that Neva was gone, nothing much mattered. Ben pulled a hankie from his pocket and wiped the sweat off his brow. He glanced at the dirty residue on the cloth, then jammed it back into his pocket. Dirty, sticky, and perspiring like the morning’s dew, he needed to rinse off. He grabbed the shovel, paced off a few feet, and dug the next hole.
The next time he stopped to look at the sun’s position, he figured it was sometime after two. His mouth was parched, his muscles ached, and his sweat-soaked shirt clung to his skin. He couldn’t wait to dig the last hole.
A few moments later, Ben tossed his shovel in the small utility cart attached to Toby’s bicycle. “I think it’s time for that swim. What about you?”
“I’m definitely hot.” His friend tipped his beet-red face toward the sun and squinted. “But we should head over to the deli. You got me in trouble the last time we skipped work, remember?”
How could he forget? Ben’s father lectured him for days about his lack of responsibility. But that incident paled in comparison to the time he kept Neva out all night. He could still hear the elevation of his father’s voice. What were you thinking? I have no respect for a man who-who places a maedel in a compromising situation.
Toby backhanded Ben in the chest, leaving his dirty handprint on Ben’s shirt. “Let’s get a soda.”
“Nay.” Ben shook his head. “I’m going swimming.”
“You’re just itching to get in trouble.”
Ben peeled his clinging shirt away from his chest. “I’m itching to get out of these sweaty clothes.” Toby should understand why Ben still avoided the deli. Mercy wasn’t part of Neva’s parents’ vocabulary—toward him anyway. Besides, he’d rather be swimming.
The Tidewater Inn was one of the few remaining resorts along the coast that hadn’t reopened since the hurricane. Ben had snuck onto the grounds and swum plenty of times before it closed, but he hadn’t had a chance to swim there since it was rebuilt.
“Sure you don’t want to cool off?”
Toby picked at the dirt under his fingernails. “I want to, but . . .”
“You’re always teetering.” Ben wiped the back of his neck with his hankie. He wasn’t about to spend all day waiting for Toby to decide. “Don’t be so indecisive. Either it’s yes or no.”
Ben waited a moment, then released the kickstand on his bike. “You know where to find me.”
Ben pedaled down the sidewalk until he reached the motel. He laid his bike down in the bushes and climbed over the fence. Minutes later, he shucked all his clothes but his briefs and gingerly eased into the cool water, giving his body time to adjust. Once he was waist deep, he plunged down to the bottom of the shallow end. He swam a few laps, then flipped over and floated on his back. He closed his eyes and relaxed. This was so much better than pedaling his bike in the heat delivering stuff that one of the younger boys could do.
“Cannonball!” Toby’s thundering voice called out midair.
Rocked by the wave created when Toby landed in the pool, Ben dipped under the surface of the water and came up sputtering. “You could’ve given me better warning.”
“Feels gut to cool off.” Toby dipped back under, then resurfaced, shaking his mass of poodle-like curly hair like a wet dog.
Ben cupped his hand and splashed his friend.
Toby returned fire, and neither of them noticed the police officer until he spoke.
“You two climb out of the pool, then put your hands up where I can see them.”
Trudging through the water toward the stairs, Ben glanced over his shoulder at Toby. His friend’s sobered expression and downcast eyes seared Ben’s soul. He shouldn’t have teased Toby about being indecisive. Ben climbed out of the pool and stood before the officer as puddles of water collected at his feet. At least Toby had jumped in fully dressed. Ben stood before the man wearing only his briefs. Maybe he could ask to dress before their eviction. He eyed his hat and clothes piled next to a potted ficus tree.
The officer peered over his sunglasses. “What are you two doing here?”
“We wanted to cool off in the pool,” Ben said.
“You didn’t read the No Trespassing signs? This area is off-limits.”
“We were only going to stay a few minutes.” Ben shivered when the breeze hit his wet body.
“And I suppose you don’t know anything about the rash of break-ins?”
Ben and Toby exchanged glances. “Nay,” they replied in unison.
“Are those your clothes over there? Let’s see some form of ID.”
“We don’t have any,” Ben said. “We’re Amish.”
The officer pressed a button near his shoulder and talked into a microphone clipped to his shirt. “Dispatch, this is beach patrol two-nine. I’ll need transport for two males found trespassing at the Tidewater Inn.”
“Ten-four.” A moment later, the woman’s voice returned. “Two-nine, be advised there is an officer in the area. ETA five minutes.”
Ben wasn’t sure what the abbreviations meant, but he was pretty sure he only had five minutes to talk the officer into letting them go. He cleared his throat. “Are we in trouble?”
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney . . .”
Ben swallowed hard. So many rights. He just wanted the right to put on his clothes. This wouldn’t be easy to explain to his parents. Most Amish men at twenty-three were married, starting a family, and well respected in their district. He wasn’t any of those things.
Ben waited until the police officer finished reciting the long list of rights, then pointed to his clothes. “Would it be all right if I get dressed?”
The officer crossed the pool deck and grabbed the items. Inspecting Ben’s hat, the officer’s bushy brows formed a straight line. “What do we have here?” He tipped the hat toward them, exposing the sma
ll radio Ben had attached to the inside. “Trying to hide stolen merchandise?”
“Nay—sir. I bought that portable radio at a pawn shop.” Ben turned to Toby, who looked away. “You were with me. Back me up,” he hissed under his breath. He might be guilty of breaking a few Amish rules like owning a radio, but he abided by the government laws. Ben would never steal.
Toby stared at the pool deck, his lips tight.
The officer patted the clump of Ben’s clothes. He removed the suspenders, then tossed Ben his trousers. Still dripping wet, Ben shoved his legs into his pants and waited for his shirt.
Soon after Ben finished dressing, another officer arrived and directed them to a waiting squad car. Shuttled to the station and separated from his friend, Ben kept his mouth shut. Goose bumps crawled up his arms as he stood in the air-conditioned building. Ben rubbed his arms and bit down on his bottom lip to keep his teeth from chattering. At least he was dressed.
Once searched, fingerprinted, and questioned, the guard led Ben to the holding cell. The stench of alcohol and vomit assaulted his senses. The guard nudged him forward, and once he was past the gate, it clanged shut. He took a seat on the metal bench beside Toby.
His friend sat with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands.
Ben cleared his throat. “I guess swimming wasn’t such a gut idea.”
Toby lifted his head, shot him a sidelong glare, then covered his face again.
Ben glanced at the others sharing the cell. One man, wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, had a tattooed snake that wrapped around his neck. His arms were canvased in colored ink with something Ben couldn’t make out, and he didn’t want to risk staring for fear the man might come over to their end of the cell. Another man sat hunched over in the corner, probably asleep, though Ben had no idea how anyone could sleep with the racket another person was making as he paced the floor mumbling gibberish to himself.
Toby had the right idea to hang his head and remain silent. Ben did the same. Now if he could only quiet his mind. Thoughts about what he would tell his parents passed the time, but he had no resolution.
Several hours later, an officer approached the cell. His keys rattled as he unlocked the steel door. “Benjamin Eicher and Toby Graber?”
Ben sucked in a breath and stood.
