Courting Her Prodigal Heart

by Mary Davis

  Eli came into the dimly lit room and knelt beside her. “How’s he doing?”

  “Great. He ate well. Are you happy to have a son?” Dee Dee knew she was.

  “I am, but I wouldn’t have minded to have another daughter. I love meine girls. All of them.” He leaned forward and kissed Dee Dee on the mouth. “Let me take him. You go get some sleep.” He scooped the little one into his big, strong arms.

  She had the life she had always wanted. She stood, tiptoed and kissed her marvelous husband. Gott had blessed her in spite of her prodigal ways.

  * * *

  If you loved this story,

  check out the previous books

  in Mary Davis’s miniseries Prodigal Daughters:

  Courting Her Amish Heart

  Courting Her Secret Heart

  Available now from Love Inspired!

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Minding the Amish Baby by Carrie Lighte.

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  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed the third book of the Prodigal Daughters series, featuring Amish women with nontraditional hopes and dreams.

  I wanted to portray women who didn’t follow the traditional path for an Amish. And what prodigal series would be complete without a true prodigal who turned her back on her way of life, her family and everything she knew? For this book, I wanted a young woman who looked very different from the Amish. But deep inside, she still held on to a few core Amish beliefs. I had to figure out what would drive someone so against the Amish way of life back into their midst.

  Dori is dear to my heart because she had such an emptiness inside her that she was looking everywhere to fill. Finally, she found what she sought: Gott. Unlike Kathleen and Deborah, Dori isn’t named for one of my wonderful sisters. But I did dedicate this book to my late son, Josh. He was my prodigal who found people fallible and God sufficient. If Josh had met Dori with her rainbow hair, he no doubt would have fallen in love with her.

  Happy reading!

  Blessings,

  Mary

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  Minding the Amish Baby

  by Carrie Lighte

  Chapter One

  “Soup from a can?” Tessa Fisher’s mother, Waneta, asked incredulously. “None for me, denki. I’ll just have bread and cheese.”

  If her mother turned her nose up at canned soup, Tessa figured she wasn’t going to have an appetite for store-bought bread, either. She racked her brain for something else to offer her parents, who had arrived unexpectedly for Sunday dinner.

  It was an off Sunday, meaning Amish families held worship services in their homes instead of gathering as a community for church. Tessa should have anticipated guests, since Sunday visiting was a cherished Amish tradition. But the truth was, as a woman living alone, Tessa was more likely to be the one dropping in on others than the one receiving visitors in the little daadi haus she rented from Turner King. Still, she hadn’t imagined her parents would travel all the way from Shady Valley, which was two towns over, to Willow Creek, Pennsylvania. Since Tessa returned from worshipping at her sister’s house only a few minutes before they arrived, she was caught unprepared.

  “I’m sorry, Mamm,” Tessa apologized as she set a bagged loaf on the table. “If I had known you were coming, I would have made something ahead of time, like a dessert.”

  “From a mix?” her mother half jested, untwisting the tie from the plastic bag.

  When Tessa put her mind to it, she could bake and cook as well as any Amish woman, but those weren’t her favorite responsibilities and she didn’t see much point in laboring over large meals when she had only herself to feed. She’d much rather spend her time socializing or working extra shifts at Schrock’s Shop, the store in town where she was employed as a clerk selling Amish-made goods primarily to Englisch tourists. Besides, it was the Sabbath. No one prepared a big dinner on the day of rest.

  “Probably,” Tessa admitted. “It’s quicker that way.”

  “Since when is quicker better?” Waneta frowned. “It sounds as if the Englisch customers at Schrock’s Shop are influencing our dochder, Henry. I think it’s time she moved back home.”

  Tessa’s father grunted noncommittally as he served himself several thick slices of bologna. At least the bologna was homemade, although not in Tessa’s home; she purchased it the day before at Schlabach’s meat market.

  Tessa stifled a sigh. A little more than two years ago she and her sister, Katie, who were the youngest children and the only girls in their family, moved from Shady Valley so Katie could serve as a replacement for Willow Creek’s schoolteacher, who resigned to start a family. Although Katie was twenty-three at the time, Henry and Waneta were reluctant to allow her to live alone, something Amish women in their area seldom did. So, they sent Tessa, who was nearing twenty-one, to live with her. Early last November, Katie married Mason Yoder, a farmer, and moved into a small house Mason built on the Yoder family’s property. Ever since then Tessa’s mother had been pressuring Tessa to return home, which Tessa was reluctant to do. Although she loved her parents deeply, Tessa sometimes felt stifled by their overly protective attitude, and she cherished her friends and job in Willow Creek too much to leave. Yet, she also knew the Lord ultimately required her to honor her parents, no matter how old she was or how much she disagreed with their opinion.

  “The customers aren’t influencing me, Mamm,” Tessa protested. “Besides, I couldn’t leave Joseph Schrock shorthanded at the shop, especially since I didn’t have any experience when I first applied for a job there. You remember? He hired me with the agreement that if he took the time and effort to train me, I’d remain a loyal employee for as long as he needed me. I can’t walk away now—you and Daed always taught us to abide by our commitments.”

  Tessa knew her mother wouldn’t argue with her own instructive advice. As Henry silently chewed his bologna, Waneta slathered a slice of bread with butter and then held it up in front of her.

  “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” she said. “You’ll never catch a husband with food like this.”

  To Tessa, it sounded as if her mother were discussing laying a trap for a wild animal. If she had known serving store-bought bread was going to result in a discussion about her likelihood of matrimony, she gladly would have baked a dozen fresh loaves to avoid the topic. Most of the area’s Amish youth were discreet about if and who they were courting, and their parents seldom interfered in their children’s romantic pursuits. But, at nearly twenty-three years old, Tessa knew her mother fe
ared she’d never wed, and Waneta’s strongly worded hints were gaining in frequency.

  “I’m in no hurry to get married,” Tessa replied. She’d had her share of suitors over the years, but in the end they didn’t seem compatible enough for her to imagine devoting herself as a wife to any of them. Nor could she imagine taking on the duty of raising a family. Not yet, anyway. Not when she’d just begun to experience the rare opportunity of being a single Amish woman living entirely on her own, without the responsibility of cooking, cleaning or taking care of anyone else in her household. She added, “There aren’t many eligible bachelors in Willow Creek, anyway.”

  “Which is exactly why you ought to kumme home. I’ve been talking to Bertha Umble and her suh Melvin isn’t walking out with anyone.”

  Melvin Umble? It was hardly a wonder. The last time Tessa saw him when she was visiting home, Melvin seemed far more interested in sprucing up his courting buggy than he was in an actual courtship, and he’d spoken endlessly on the topic. Tessa let her mother’s comment hang in the air.

  “Would you like a cookie, Daed?” she asked. “They’re packaged, but they’re tasty.”

  “How can I refuse? Apparently, it’s the way to my heart,” her father replied with a grin, and Waneta playfully swatted at him with the back of her hand.

  “Henry!” she exclaimed. “I’m only trying to help our dochder.”

  Deep down Tessa knew it was true that her mother was trying to help. But that was just it: Tessa didn’t need help because she was perfectly content in her present circumstances. More than content, she was happy. As far as she was concerned, she could live as a single woman indefinitely.

  “Please think about what I said,” Waneta advised later as the three of them bundled into their woolen coats. They planned to spend the rest of the afternoon at Katie and Mason’s house. No doubt Tessa’s sister would serve a full supper in the evening. Although cooking a large meal wasn’t permitted on the Sabbath, Katie’s Saturday leftovers were bound to be savory and numerous.

  “I always think about what you’ve said, Mamm,” Tessa replied, hoping to reassure her mother that she needn’t worry about her daughter living alone. “Nothing you and Daed taught me is ever far from my mind.”

  “Nor are you ever far from our hearts and prayers,” Henry said.

  “That’s very true, but I still wish she weren’t far from our home, either.” Waneta couldn’t seem to resist dropping one more hint as they stepped outside onto the small porch, but Tessa sensed it was far from her final one.

  * * *

  “Hallich Nei Yaahr,” Turner King greeted Tessa and her parents as he approached the daadi haus on the front corner of his property.

  Although January was soon over, because they hadn’t seen him since the New Year began they wished him a happy new year, too. He extended a few colorful envelopes to Tessa. Since they technically lived at the same address, they shared a mailbox at the end of the lane. Usually, they gathered their own mail separately, leaving each other’s items behind, but these messages appeared to be belated Christmas cards and there was wet weather on the way. Turner didn’t want them to get ruined, so he delivered them on his walk back from the mailbox. “These were piling up,” he said.

  Tessa’s mother clucked as her daughter accepted the mail. “She’d forget her own head sometimes,” Waneta commented. “What if one of those had been an urgent message from home, Tessa? It’s a gut thing we have Turner nearby to look after you.”

  Turner noticed Tessa’s olive complexion breaking out in a rosy hue. As she stood next to her father, it was plain to see she’d inherited her prominent cheekbones and long, elegant nose from his side of the family. Turner bristled when his sister-in-law Rhoda once made the superficial remark that she wasn’t sure if she thought Tessa was the most striking woman in Willow Creek or just plain homely.

  But observing Tessa and her father now, Turner understood what Rhoda meant: one couldn’t help but notice their unusual features, which differed drastically from those of most of the Amish leit in their district. For his part, Turner found their uniqueness becoming, and it was enhanced when father and daughter stood side by side. For a moment, he was distracted by how winsome she appeared. I shouldn’t be entertaining such a thought—Tessa’s closer to my little sister’s age than to mine.

  “Denki for bringing these to me,” Tessa said sheepishly.

  “It’s not a problem. I forgot to collect my own mail until today, too.”

  “All the same, you will keep an eye on her, won’t you?” Waneta persisted, as if talking about a kind. “Especially now that she’s living alone, without Katie. We don’t want her getting into any kind of trouble.”

  Tessa’s dark, deep-set eyes flashed with apparent anger before she averted her gaze. Clearly, she was as uncomfortable with this conversation as Turner was. One of the reasons he didn’t mind having renters was the Fisher girls mostly kept to themselves—at least, they did after he declined several of their invitations to supper when they first moved in. He valued his privacy and didn’t relish the idea of increasing his interactions with Tessa beyond the brief greetings they exchanged whenever their paths crossed.

  “Tessa knows where to find me if she needs assistance,” he responded vaguely. Then he excused himself and hurried along the narrow lane leading up the hill to the larger house where he lived by himself.

  As he walked, he marveled over the irony of Tessa’s mother asking him to keep an eye out for her daughter. If only Waneta knew Turner hadn’t been able to keep his own sister, Jacqueline, away from a world of trouble, she wouldn’t entrust Tessa to his watch.

  Not that Tessa needed monitoring anyway. During the two years Tessa and Katie lived in his family’s daadi haus, the sisters always paid their rent on time and they kept the house and yard tidy. Admittedly, they often had visitors, including church members, their parents and female friends for sister days. Turner noticed Mason Yoder used to frequent the daadi haus, too, but like any suitor who called on the Fisher girls, he only stayed long enough to pick Katie up and drop her off. Aside from when they hosted a few raucous volleyball games in their yard with other single youth from church, the sisters were courteous, sensible tenants.

  Granted, Turner had conversed more often with Katie than with Tessa. The younger sister’s effervescent personality frequently made him feel bumbling and dull by contrast. Rather than grow tongue-tied in Tessa’s presence, he preferred to interact with Katie regarding any issues that had arisen with the daadi haus. Now he wondered if Waneta’s comments indicated Tessa was a little too high-spirited for her own good. Maybe there was a reason unbeknownst to him behind the mother’s request. He understood how family members sometimes protected each other’s reputations; that’s exactly what he was doing for Jacqueline.

  “It was difficult enough raising my own siblings. I don’t need to look after a fully grown tenant,” Turner grumbled aloud as he entered his empty house.

  He tossed a couple of logs into the wood stove and then washed his hands before preparing a plate of scrambled eggs for supper. He thanked the Lord for his food, adding, Please keep Jacqueline safe from harm and bring her home soon.

  Before opening his eyes, Turner rubbed his thumb and forefinger back and forth across his brows. It seemed he’d had the same unrelenting tension headache for fourteen years. It started the day his parents were killed by an automobile when he was eighteen and he was left to raise Mark, Patrick and Jacqueline, who was a toddler at the time. If his aunt Louisa, then a young widow, hadn’t been living in the daadi haus that once belonged to his grandparents, Turner never would have made it through those early years. She helped manage the children, especially Jacqueline, and he supported the family financially by taking over his father’s buggy shop. But the year Jacqueline turned ten Louisa married a mason from out of state and moved to Ohio.

  With the grace of God, Turner managed to raise his br
others according to their Amish faith and traditions. But bringing up a girl—especially one who was entering her teens—was a challenge exceeding Turner’s best efforts. It wasn’t that Jacqueline was necessarily unruly; it was more that Turner suddenly was at a loss for how to communicate effectively with her. Having completed her schooling at fourteen, she was no longer considered a child, but neither was she an adult. To Turner it seemed she wanted all the privileges of adulthood without any of the responsibilities, and the brother and sister frequently locked horns. When Jacqueline turned fifteen, she moved to Louisa’s house in Ohio. By sixteen, her rumspringa began, and she suddenly left Louisa’s to live among the Englisch. Much to Turner’s consternation, it had been nearly eight or nine months since she’d contacted their family.

  Raising his head, Turner released a heavy sigh. Try as he did to cast his burdens upon the Lord, lately he felt more overwhelmed than usual. He supposed this was because after his youngest brother, Patrick, married Rhoda and moved out of the house in November, Turner didn’t have anyone to distract him from his thoughts on the weekends, when he tended to worry more about Jacqueline’s welfare and sometimes took trips to search for her. It was on Saturday and Sunday evenings when he most wished for the loving support and companionship of a wife, but marriage wasn’t an option that seemed probable for him.

  As a younger man, Turner’s time and energy were wholly consumed by raising and providing for his siblings. He’d expected he’d have more flexibility once they entered their teens, but in many ways Jacqueline’s disappearance limited him more now than caring for her as a child had done. How could he court anyone when his weekends were spent searching for his sister? Furthermore, he couldn’t imagine sharing the secret of Jacqueline’s circumstances with anyone outside the family. Although Jacqueline hadn’t been baptized yet so she wasn’t in the bann—or shunned—it was still considered disgraceful for her to have run away to the Englisch world.