A Family for Tory

by Margaret Daley

  “You’re alone with me. I’m touching you.”

  “That’s just it. You don’t threaten me. I let down my guard enough to really get to know you and what kind of man you are. I knew you would never hurt me. That’s why I could agree to marry you and provide Mindy with a home.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you realized that. I’d never hurt you.”

  Tory moved closer, their knees touching on the swing. “I wanted more and thought I was ready for it. Then we had to go to Dallas and all my memories of what happened slapped me in the face. Now I realize that if it hadn’t been Dallas, something else would have triggered the buried feelings. I had to deal with them, not run from them.”

  “Have you stopped running?”

  She leaned toward him. “Yes, definitely. I love you, Slade Donaldson, and I want us to be husband and wife in every sense.”

  His lips met hers in a gentle kiss. “I love you, Tory Donaldson.”

  “Let’s go say good-night to Mindy before she wonders what happened to us.”

  Slade grasped Tory’s hand as they walked into the house. The comfort of his touch melted any doubts she might still have. When they entered Mindy’s bedroom, she was in her bed with the pillows propped up behind her back and a book in her lap.

  “Dad-dy start-ed Black—Beau-ty.”

  “I loved that book when I was a little girl.”

  Tory sat at the end of the bed while Slade scooted a chair close to Mindy. He began to read, his deep, baritone voice floating to Tory and enveloping her in its rich tones that she wanted to hear every day of the rest of her life.

  When he finished the chapter, he snapped the book closed and put it on the nightstand. “Good night, sweetheart.”

  Mindy snuggled down into the covers while Tory arranged them around her and Belle. “I’m so glad to be home. After school tomorrow, you and I will go for a ride.”

  “Yes! Dad-dy, too?”

  Tory slanted a look back at Slade. “Daddy, too. That is, if he can come home early from work.”

  “You two have a date,” he said, lounging against the doorjamb.

  Tory brushed a kiss across Mindy’s forehead, then switched off the lamp on the nightstand. The light from the hallway illuminated her way toward Slade silhouetted in the doorway, relaxed as though he had not a care in the world.

  In the hallway by her bedroom Slade drew her into his arms, his mouth claiming hers. When he pulled back, he whispered, “I love you, Tory,” then gave her a quick kiss on the lips before releasing her and heading toward his bedroom.

  Dazed, Tory watched him walk away. “But what about—”

  He swung around, his hand on his doorknob. “As I told you before, you’re in control. You’re calling the shots. The next step is up to you.”

  The quiet click of his door as he closed it resounded in the hall. The silence of the house cloaked her in a feeling of safety. She glanced at her door then at his. Chewing on her bottom lip, she thought about her ride to the ranch, about her conversations earlier with Susan and Slade and knew what she wanted to do more than anything. She walked to his door and pushed it open.

  He turned toward her, a smile of welcome on his face. She shut the door and flew into his embrace.

  Epilogue

  Mindy rushed into the spacious new kitchen decorated in palm trees and bamboo with red and green accents. She came to a halt beside Tory at the counter. “Laurie’s here. She’s the last one. Come on. I can’t open my presents without you, Mom.”

  “Whoa. Slow down. I’m just about through with putting the punch together.” Tory dumped the frozen lemonade into the large pitcher and stirred the liquid with a wooden spoon.

  “Mom! We all want to ride.”

  Tory grinned and laid the spoon in the sink. “I know, but first the presents then the food. Is your dad ready with the video camera?”

  Mindy cocked her head. “What do you think? Does he go anywhere without it?”

  “Not lately,” Tory said with a laugh. “You go back to your guests and I’ll be right there.”

  “Promise?”

  “Have I ever let you down?”

  Mindy shook her head and hurried back into the den.

  Tory swung around and scooped up Sean from the high chair. Banana bits were all over his mouth and the front of his shirt and even in his dark hair. “You are one messy eater, young man.” She took a washcloth and wiped him clean. “We’d better get into the den. Your big sister is impatient. Maybe you can ride today, too. Of course, it will have to be with your daddy.”

  Sean grinned up at her and made babbling sounds as though he were telling her that would be fine by him.

  The second Tory entered the den, Mindy tore into the first present in front of her. Sean played with one of Tory’s buttons on her shirt while his sister opened one gift after another to the excitement of ten little girls from her class.

  Slade moved to Tory’s side, smiling at Sean. “Are you sure Gus is up to this? Eleven screaming girls may be too much for him.”

  “Are you kidding? He’s gonna love every minute. He adores Mindy and anything she wants, she gets.”

  “Maybe I should rephrase the question. Are you and I gonna be up for eleven screaming girls trying to ride?”

  “They’re not screaming. They’re just enthusiastic.”

  “Is that what you call this?” he shouted above the din. “I think they’re all trying to talk at once.”

  Tory took a whiff. “I think our son needs to be changed.”

  “I’ll trade you. You film this free-for-all while I change Sean.”

  “Oh, a man after my own heart.” Tory patted her chest.

  “Since you have mine, it’s only fair I have yours.” His mouth whispered across Tory’s right before he plucked his son from her arms and gave her the video camera. “Don’t aim directly at the windows. Too much light.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  She watched as Slade lifted his son high in the air and swung him back and forth. Sean’s peals of laughter mingled with the chattering racket behind Tory. Her heart swelled as she took in the scene in the den. This was her family. It couldn’t get any better than this.

  * * * * *

  SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM

  Love Inspired ®

  Mourning a broken engagement, Helen Zook flees to Bowman’s Crossing.

  There she finds herself clashing with her new boss, Mark Bowman.

  Sparks fly. But with Mark soon returning to his hometown,

  is there any chance at a future together?

  Read on for a sneak preview of

  AN UNEXPECTED AMISH ROMANCE, the next book in

  Patricia Davids’s heartwarming series, The Amish Bachelors.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mark Bowman lifted his straw hat off his face and sat up with a disgruntled sigh. Trying to sleep on a bus was hard enough, but the sound of muffled weeping coming from the seat behind him was making it impossible. He turned to look over his shoulder. The culprit was an Amish woman with her face buried in a large white handkerchief. She was alone. Should he say something or ignore her?

  Normally he avoided meddling in the affairs of others, but he recalled his uncle’s advice to him before he’d left Bowmans Crossing four days ago. A business owner needed to be a good listener as well as a good salesman. Success wasn’t always about numbers, it was about making people feel you cared about them and their concerns. It was about building friendships. Isaac had asked Mark to make an effort to be more outgoing on this trip.

  There was no one Mark respected more than his uncle. Isaac Bowman had achieved everything Mark was working toward. He had a successful furniture-making business and a large happy family. Isaac was well respected in his Amish church and in the community and with good reason. He was always willing to lend a helping hand.

  Mark didn’t have to imagine what his uncle would do in this situation. He would ask if he could help. Taking a deep breath, Mark spoke softly to the woman. “Fräulein
, are you all right?”

  She glanced up and then turned her face to the window. “I’m fine.”

  It was dark outside. There was nothing to see except the occasional lights from the farms they passed. She dabbed her eyes and sniffled. She was a lovely woman. Her pale blond hair was tucked neatly beneath a gauzy, heart-shaped white kapp. He didn’t recognize the style and wondered where she was from. “You don’t sound fine.”

  “Maybe not yet, but I will be.”

  The defiance in her tone took him by surprise and reminded him of his six-year-old sister when she didn’t get her way. Experience had taught him the best way to stop his sister’s tears was to distract her. “I don’t care much for bus rides. Makes me queasy in the stomach. How about you?”

  “They don’t bother me.” “Where are you headed?”

  “To visit family.” The woman’s clipped reply said she wasn’t interested in talking about it. He should have let it go at that, but he didn’t.

  “Then someone in your family must be ill. Or perhaps you are on your way to a funeral.”

  She frowned at him.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s a reasonable assumption. You’d hardly be crying if you were on your way to a wedding.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. With a strangled cry, she scrambled out of her seat and moved to one at the rear of the bus, effectively ending their conversation.

  Confused, he stared at her. Somehow he’d made things worse, and he had no idea what he’d said that upset her so. He shook his head in bewilderment. Women could be so unpredictable. Fortunately, the woman he planned to marry was sensible and level-headed. He couldn’t imagine Angela drawing attention to herself by weeping in public.

  He noticed a few of the nearby passengers scowling at him. He shrugged and settled back to finish his nap. He should have gone with his first instinct to mind his own business. His brother Paul claimed most women were emotional creatures who enjoyed drama and making mountains out of molehills. Clearly she was one of those. He was fortunate she had moved to the back of the bus and wouldn’t trouble him again.

  * * *

  Helen Zook squeezed her eyes shut to stem the flow of fresh tears brought on by her nosy and insensitive fellow passenger. His beardless cheeks told her he was a single man. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, let alone a handsome dark-haired Amish fellow who was brash enough to strike up a conversation with a woman traveling alone. Perhaps he had meant to be kind, but his words stung. He was half right. She wasn’t going to a wedding. She was running away from one.

  Today should have been her wedding day, but all her dreams of the happy life ahead of her had come crashing down when her fiancé announced three weeks ago that he had changed his mind. He wanted to marry her sister Olivia instead. Today had been their wedding day.

  How could Joseph betray her like that? How could her own sister deceive her by seeing Joseph behind her back? They were questions without answers that tumbled around in her mind like leaves in a whirlwind. Helen refused to admit that some of the blame rested squarely on her shoulders. She was the victim.

  The shock and the shame had been more than Helen could bear, although she tried to pretend it didn’t matter. She was so angry with them. That was wrong. She knew it, but she couldn’t change how she felt. The two people she trusted most in the world had betrayed her and made her a laughingstock in the community.

  The morning of her sister’s wedding, Helen had realized she couldn’t remain at home and watch Olivia wed Joseph. Without a clear idea of what she was going to do, she’d taken her savings and purchased a one-way bus ticket out of Nappanee, Indiana, with the intention of staying with her aunt Charlotte. She hoped she could find a job and get a place of her own soon. She prayed her aunt would take her in. She hadn’t had time to write and explain that she was coming nor had she told anyone where she was going.

  Helen had met her father’s youngest sister a few times over the years when they came to visit at Christmas and such, but she didn’t know her aunt well. Charlotte was something of an odd recluse and not overly fond of visitors, but Helen would make herself useful. She was fleeing to her aunt’s home because Charlotte lived the farthest away of any of the relatives. She had never married, choosing to stay at home and care for her aging parents until they were both gone. She had a small income from the rental of farmland her father had left her near Bowmans Crossing, Ohio. According to the letters she wrote to Helen’s parents, she lived happily with only her pets in a little house by the river.

  It seemed like the perfect hideaway to Helen, but as the miles flew by she was learning distance alone didn’t diminish a heartache.

  * * *

  Mark roused as the bus slowed and jolted to a halt. “Berlin, Ohio,” the driver announced over the intercom. He opened the door with a loud whoosh.

  Mark stretched and rose to his feet. After pulling his duffel bag from the overhead bin, he made his way down the aisle and got off the bus. It would be wonderful to sleep in his own bed after having stayed in motels for the past four days, but at least his trip had been a success. He looked forward to telling his uncle that they had two new stores in Columbus willing to sell the handmade furniture produced in his workshop.

  Berlin didn’t have an actual bus station. They had stopped in a parking lot in front a local restaurant that was already closed for the evening. A single floodlight provided the only illumination, with moths and other insects fluttering around it.

  Several other Amish passengers got off the bus including the weeping woman who seemed to have recovered her composure. She pointedly avoided looking at Mark and kept her eyes downcast. There were several buggies parked along the roadway. Various passengers gravitated to them. The woman spoke to the bus driver, who was unloading luggage. He pointed toward a white van at the edge of the parking lot. She nodded and crossed to the vehicle where she spoke to someone inside and then got in.

  Not much more than a wide spot in the road, the village of Berlin was still fifteen miles from Mark’s destination of Bowmans Crossing. He looked around for his uncle or one of his cousins but didn’t see them. They knew he was coming in on this bus, so he expected they would be along soon.

  The driver of the white van approached. Mark recognized Abner Stutzman. The wiry gray-haired man was one his uncle’s English neighbors who earned extra money by providing taxi service to the Amish folks in the community.

  “Evening, Mark.”

  “Guten nacht, Abner.”

  “Your uncle arranged for me to pick you up and take you home tonight.”

  Mark grinned. That meant he’d reach his bed all the sooner. “I’m grateful for Onkel Isaac’s thoughtfulness.”

  “I hope you don’t mind me taking on another fare. There’s a young lady needing a ride, too. She’s going past Bowmans Crossing, so it won’t hold you up any.”

  “That’s fine.” Mark hoped she wouldn’t start crying again when she saw he was sharing her ride.

  Abner rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s get going. The missus came along to keep me company, but she doesn’t like to stay out late.”

  Since Abner’s wife was seated up front, Mark had no choice but to get in the back. The woman from the bus was already seated in the second row. He had the option of sitting beside her or behind her in the third row of seats. Would she start crying again if he sat beside her? Riding in the back of Abner’s van might trigger Mark’s motion sickness. Which would be worse? He put his duffel bag on the rear seats and sat down beside her without a word. She kept her face averted.

  “All set?” Abner asked, looking at them in the rearview mirror.

  The woman nodded slightly. Mark said, “We’re ready.”

  Abner pulled out of the parking lot and onto the narrow highway headed toward Bowmans Crossing. After a few long minutes of awkward silence, Mark decided perhaps he should apologize. He leaned toward her. “I’m sorry I upset you earlier.”

&n
bsp; “It wasn’t you,” she murmured. He had to strain to hear her.

  She kept her face turned toward the window. He wished he could see her better. “Goot. I’d hate to think I added to your troubles.”

  “You didn’t.” Her clipped reply wasn’t encouraging.

  “If no one is ill or has died, why were you crying?”

  “My reasons are my own.”

  He shifted uncomfortably on the seat, feeling out of his depth but sure that his uncle would want him to try and aid her. “Some people say it helps to talk about your problems.”

  “Well, some people are wrong.”

  He sighed inwardly with relief. She didn’t want to pour out her troubles any more than he wanted to hear them. “I find that’s true. I’m glad you don’t wish to discuss it with me.”

  Her eyes widened. “Then why did you offer?”

  “My onkel tells me I need to work on my communication skills. He says it’s important for a business owner. I’m supposed to practice showing interest in people and become a better listener.”

  “So you chose me to practice on?”

  He caught a hint of anger in her tone. “No need to ruffle your feathers.”

  “My feathers are not ruffled,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes snapping with irritation.

  “I’d say they are getting more ruffled by the second.”

  “You are a rude man. We’re done talking.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest and turned back to the window.

  She had no idea how glad he was to hear her say that. Still, he couldn’t help wondering what had made her cry in the first place. She stirred his curiosity, and that was unusual.

  Twenty-five silent minutes later, Abner pulled to a stop in front of Mark’s uncle’s home. Mark tipped his hat to the woman and got out. She didn’t even glance his way. To his mind, she was the one being rude.

  His uncle’s advice was harder to put into practice than he expected it to be.

  * * *

  The following day, Mark stayed busy in his uncle’s workshop until early evening. Although he had been put in charge by his uncle and oversaw the day-to-day operations of the business, it was carving that Mark enjoyed the most. He was putting the finishing touches on a mantelpiece depicting foxes at play in the woods when his uncle stopped beside him.