by Tricia Goyer
"What are you afraid of?"
She didn't answer his question right away, and not because she worried what he'd think. Instead she didn't want to verbalize all the things that had been going on in her mind. As long as she didn't actually say them, it was as though they couldn't be real.
Finally she blew out a breath.
"I'm afraid I'll get too familiar with the Englisch. I'll forget how things are supposed to be. I'll forget what it's like to live in a real Amish community, where the boundaries for what is right and wrong are clear. I'm afraid that I'll stray from the right path and not know it."
"Are you afraid that you'll lose Aaron?" Her father's voice was gentle.
Marianna lowered her head. "Yes, I'm afraid of that, too."
She was also afraid about her feelings for Ben, but she still couldn't tell him that. Those were feelings she didn't even want to admit to herself.
"Is that what you want, Marianna? Do you want to return to that place? To that life?"
"Oh, Dat"—tears prickled her eyes—"I don't know! I like it here. I think Montana is beautiful. But well, I always thought my life would go one way, and I don't know anything other than that. I don't know what to dream in its place."
"Well, I don't have an answer for you, except to say if you're leaving because of fear, that's the wrong choice. Why don't you come back until you know."
She stared at her father, letting his words soak in. "You mean . . . it's possible to have peace over a decision like this?"
Dat nodded. "It's a peace that comes even when you can't know the future. It's the peace that comes knowing that God is already there."
Marianna looked down at their joined hands, then back up into Dat's face. She'd never heard him talk this way before. Not to the men at church, not even to Mem. Certainly he'd never talked to her before of such things. Could it be . . .
Had her dat also found God in a new way here in this new place?
"Dat, it's not just Montana—the place. There's so much more."
"Tell me, Mari." He stroked his beard, his gaze intent on hers. That was all she needed. Something broke free inside and her words poured forth. She told him about praying aloud, and about God's answers. Told him how God had calmed Charlie and her own heart when she asked.
And though he didn't say much, she could tell. He understood.
As she talked, a certainty grew within her. All her questions, all her doubts . . . she'd been doing what Dat said, pushing them aside out of fear. But she needed to listen to them.
Needed even more to listen to the One who could answer them.
If she went back to Indiana now, that wouldn't happen. She'd go back to the old ways, back to praying in silence, to not talking about God as though He were a friend.
And she couldn't do that.
A jerk of motion started her from her thoughts. The train was stopping.
Dat straightened beside her. "This is where I'm getting off. You coming with me?"
Marianna didn't hesitate. She rose. "Yes."
He smiled at her resolute response. "But I have one question." She looked out at the platform, then back up at Dat. "How are we going to get home?"
Dat motioned her to follow, and when they got off the train she saw it. A small blue truck with a yellow camper. Trapper sat in the front seat, his head sticking out of the window.
And then she saw Ben's hand, waving her home.
Marianna listened as her dat talked to the baggage handler about unloading her things, and then she walked to the truck.
Halfway there Trapper leapt from the window of the driver's side door and darted to her.
"Trapper!" The dog reached her and jumped, his paws muddying her skirt. His tail wagged at double speed and short yips both scolded and welcomed her.
"Don't worry, boy. I'm back."
She hunched down and grabbed him up in her arms. Hearing footsteps on the gravel, she brushed off her skirt and rose.
"He missed you." Ben's voice was gentle.
She dared to look into his face. "I can see that."
"He was sad . . . thinking he wouldn't see you again."
She tilted her head, eyeing him.
"Yes, well." She crossed her arms over her chest. "He doesn't need to worry about that now, does he? I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. At least not for a while."
"So . . ." Ben put his hands in his pockets. "You left the quilt for me. I—" He took a step closer. "I don't know what to say. It's beautiful, Marianna. You're—" he paused. "Uh, thank you."
"I should be thanking you. I wanted you to have it. You've done so much." She looked back and saw her father approaching. She turned back to Ben. "Out of all the things I found in Montana, the most important was God. I mean, I knew of Him before, but I now feel I'm on my way to knowing Him in ways I hadn't earlier. Ways I hadn't even known were possible."
"Ready to go?"
She turned to see that her dat held her two boxes in his arms. His face peeked around them.
"Here, let me help you with those." Ben hurried forward and grabbed the boxes, then carried them to the back of his truck.
"Your mem is going to be beside herself when she sees you walk through that door." Dat smiled.
"She doesn't know?"
Dat stroked his beard. "I didn't want to get her hopes up . . . in case you decided not to come." He placed an arm around her shoulders. "She loves you more than you can imagine, sweetheart."
Sweetheart . . . He'd never called her such before.
Marianna pressed her face into her father's shoulder. She nodded but didn't know how to respond.
"She considers you her miracle, you know. She held you more than the other babies. You were what kept her going after . . . after the loss of your sisters. You were her saving grace."
Marianna pulled back. "But I—" She blinked back tears. "I always thought I was a poor substitute . . . that whenever she looked at me, she remembered what she lost."
Dat pulled her back and turned her to see his face. "You thought that?" He lifted her chin with a curl of his finger so that their eyes met. "Just the opposite. She spent so much time with you as a baby—she favored you in so many ways—that people started talking. They said you received more attention than the boys, that it wasn't right. So she felt she had to make changes. Sometimes I thought she went too far, but one thing a good Amish woman never does is choose to love one child more than another."
Marianna felt a tear trail down her cheek. "I had no idea . . ." Could it be true? That her efforts to be the perfect daughter were not only in vain, but unnecessary. That she was loved—had always been loved—for the gift of who she was to her family. And that alone?
Marianna looked to Ben, and in his eyes she saw peace. He'd made mistakes—one that cost a man his life, and still he turned to God. She'd been the opposite. In trying to be perfect, she'd missed the joy of being loved for just who she was.
No, she never could replace her sisters, but that didn't mean she didn't have something to offer all on her own.
A smile touched her lips at the thought of walking in the front door and seeing her mother in the kitchen.
I'm loved . . . I'm loved. The phrase sang in her mind as she strode to the car. "C'mon, Trapper." She whistled to her dog. "It's time to go home."
Tramp Soup (Potato Soup)
(contributed by Diana Miller)
1 pound sausage
1 onion, finely diced
5 to 6 potatoes, peeled and cubed
2 stalks diced celery
Salt and pepper
1-1.5 quarts milk
Brown sausage with onion and celery. Drain. Add cubed potatoes and just enough water to cook potatoes until soft, not much. Add milk when potatoes are soft or until it is the consistency you would like. Sometimes I add cream to make it richer.
Serves about 6.
Fruit Tapioca
(contributed by Martha Artyomenko)
9 cups water
1 teaspoon salt
&
nbsp; 1 1/2 cups baby pearl tapioca (I let my tapioca soak in some of the water for at least a couple hours; it makes it cook faster.)
4 small boxes Jell-O (see note below)
1 cup sugar
Fruit—as much or as little as you want
Bring water and salt to a boil. Add tapioca. Cook until clear; keep stirring while it boils. Remove from heat and add Jell-O and sugar. Add fruit.
Notes:
This makes a lot. I would use orange Jell-O and add 2 #10 cans of mandarin oranges and some pineapple. (We were given lots of big cans of oranges and this was a favorite to do with them.) You can use strawberry Jell-O and add strawberries or any kind of fruit, really. It is great to stretch just a little fruit. You can add whipped cream or Cool Whip, if you like. My favorite was to use raspberry Jell-O and frozen raspberries. It you use 2 #10 cans of fruit or more, it serves about 30 people, or if you add less fruit, it can serve about 10.
Oatmeal Butter Crisps
(contributed by Martha Artyomenko)
2 cups oil
2 cups brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
4 eggs
3 1/2 cups flour
6 1/4 cups quick oatmeal (not instant)
1 cup raisins (You can substitute nuts, chocolate chips, coconut, craisins.)
Cream first 7 ingredients.
Add eggs, flour, and oatmeal.
Mix well. Add raisins.
Use cookie scoop to scoop onto trays and bake about 10 minutes at 350 degrees. They should look puffed up and not quite down. Let stand about 2 minutes before removing them from the tray.
This recipe makes a large batch of chewy oatmeal cookies.
Haystacks
(contributed by Martha Artyomenko)
2 pounds ground beef, browned
2 cans kidney beans (12 oz)
Some or all of the following:
Grated cheese or cheese sauce (Sometimes this is made by thinning out melted Velveeta cheese with milk or using canned cheddar cheese soup thinned with milk.)
Cooked rice
Diced tomatoes
Diced green peppers
Shredded lettuce
Tortilla chips
Crushed saltine crackers
Riced potatoes
Garbanzo beans
Salsa
Sour cream
Brown ground beef, add beans. (Sometimes this is seasoned with taco seasonings or even made more like a chili.) Set out bowls of the ingredients you have chosen for your haystacks for your guests. Each person goes through the line piling their haystack with whatever toppings they like. Serves approximately 10 people.
Betty's Salad
(contributed by Martha Artyomenko)
1 head broccoli, finely chopped
1 head cauliflower, finely chopped
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 cups grated cheddar cheese
1 package fried bacon cut in small pieces
Dressing:
3/4 cup sour cream
3/4 cup mayonnaise or salad dressing
1/2 cup sugar
Dash salt
Mix salad ingredients. Mix dressing ingredients. Toss together.
Notes:
Makes a big bowl, very typical for an Amish wedding salad. It's good but rich.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Every great novel starts with a bit of fact. This story started with more than that.
A few years ago I was asked if I'd ever consider writing an Amish novel. The truth is, I hadn't. But the first seed of an idea was planted, and my mind started to feed and water it. That's how novels usually start.
Later that day I remembered that my daughter had a friend, Saretta, whose parents were raised Amish. They moved from an Amish community in Indiana to Montana, and that is how we met. I also remember my daughter telling me Ora Jay and Irene lost two daughters in a buggy accident.
Hmmm, I thought. I'd love to hear their story. Maybe someday, if I see them again, I'll ask.
The next day my daughter Leslie and I went out for some mom and daughter time. We went to a bookstore to browse and get coffee. As we looked over the bargain rack, guess who walked in . . . Saretta. We hadn't seen her for six months at least and there she was.
"Saretta," I told her. "I think I'm supposed to talk to your parents—hear their story."
"Sure, I'm sure they'd love to talk to you!"
Less than a week later Ora Jay and Irene sat in my living room. They told me about being Amish, about losing their daughters, about their move. They also talked about their faith. They shared what it meant to be Amish. They shared how their faith had grown after moving to Montana. They shared many ways God had changed their lives and their hearts. I listened amazed. Their story added more water—the Living Water—and sunshine to the seed of a novel planted in my heart.
After talking to Ora Jay and Irene, I met many other Amish women from the West Kootenai Community. I was honored as they shared their lives with me.
While this story is still a work of fiction, I've tried to be true to the lifestyle and faith of this Amish community. As you may know, each Amish community is different, depending on the place and rules of the church. While I may not have gotten everything right, I've tried hard to ensure my words reflect truth.
May this story—this faith journey—touch your heart as it has mine.
With care,
Tricia Goyer
P.S. By the way, for those of you who notice such things, the dialogue in this novel is intentionally incorrect to accurately represent the Amish manners of speech.
TEASER CHAPTER FOR BOOK 2
Aaron looked at the borrowed suitcase realizing it was only half full. He’d put in a few changes of clothes. He’d put in an extra hat. He’d borrowed a book on cattle from Mr. Stoll, and under it all he’d tucked his sketchbook.
Turning to his dresser, Aaron picked up the last two things. A paper sack with a lunch Naomi had packed. Tears had filled her eyes as she’d handed it to him. She hadn’t wished him a good trip. She hadn’t begged him to stay. She’d come to him months ago in her desperation, hoping to find companionship. For a while he’d tried, for the same reason. But he knew better now. Lying was something he’d been raised to hate. And letting her think he felt about her the way he felt about Marianna . . .
That was a lie.
Which was why he was leaving. To find the truth.
He sighed as he set the lunch inside the suitcase. He knew that many in his parents’ generation married for a home and family. His own mother said it was foolish for him to travel so far for love. Marriage did not take love, she’d insisted.
His younger sister called up the stairs. “Your driver’s here!”
“Ja, ja,” Aaron yelled back.
He clenched the stack of letters he held, still unsure if he’d give them to her. There were fifteen letters. Nearly one for every week she’d been gone. He’d shared so much—his dreams, his hopes. He’d left nothing hidden.
Which was why he hadn’t mailed them yet.
He had to go to Montana. He had to look into Marianna’s face, peer into her eyes—her soul. Only then would he know if he’d be willing to hand over his heart.
Lifting his suitcase, he took one last look around the room he’d slept in since a babe. Then, determination straightening his back, he turned and walked out the door.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Prologue
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
Tramp Soup (Potato Soup)
Fruit Tapioca
Oatmeal Butter Crisps
Haystacks
Betty's Salad
Author's Note
Teaser Chapter for Book 2
