This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by Laura V. Hilton
Cover design by Elizabeth Turner Stokes
Cover photograph by Shirley Green
Cover copyright © 2021 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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Forever
Hachette Book Group
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First Edition: April 2021
Forever is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.
ISBN: 978-1-5387-0066-2 (mass market), 978-1-5387-0067-9 (ebook)
E3-20210204-DA-PC-ORI
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Discover More
Don't Miss The Amish Wedding Promise
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Also by Laura V. Hilton
PRAISE FOR THE HIDDEN SPRINGS SERIES
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To the God who loved me enough to die for me because He loved me first
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Acknowledgments
Thanks to Marilyn for information about the Illinois Amish.
Thanks to Jenna, Candee, Lynne, Linda, Heidi, Marie, Christy, Kathy, Julie, and Marilyn for your parts in critiques, advice, and/or brainstorming. Also to my street team for promoting and brainstorming. Candee, this story would not be what it is without you.
Thanks to Jenna for taking on the bulk of the cooking while I’m on deadline.
Thanks to Forever for taking a chance on me, to Tamela Hancock Murray for representing me.
Chapter 1
God, I don’t know what to do. I wake every morning hoping the darkness will be less oppressive, but each day is as bleak as the one before.
Hallie Brunstetter bent over the lined white paper on the table in front of her, penning her innermost thoughts by the dim flickering light of the candle. She should write the article due for The Budget, and she would, but first she needed to talk to Gott in a physical way. Maybe then He would answer. Besides, she used to love keeping a prayer journal and seeing how and when Gott answered.
She also wanted to write a letter to her pen pal. She loved writing Kiah and sharing her innermost thoughts and secrets, but lately he’d started talking about wanting to meet. Something she couldn’t allow due to district rules.
Besides, it was rather scary. What if she was a big disappointment in person? She’d always felt like she was a disappointment to Toby. He was forever correcting her. She had to discourage her pen pal from coming. Absolutely had to.
The darkness permeated the kitchen, and she squinted. She didn’t dare light the lantern or the gaslight. The brighter beam might wake someone. And she wanted to be alone. Needed to be alone. Mamm and Daed slept right through the open doorway on a full-size bed that was always kept pushed up against the wall in the living room. A visiting preacher and his wife from someplace in Indiana were staying in their bedroom for the weekend. They arrived late last nacht, long after Hallie had gone to bed. She’d heard the low murmur of voices, but rolled over and went back to sleep.
She glanced at the clock, faintly backlit by a battery. Since she’d need to head into work in about an hour, she probably wouldn’t meet them until this afternoon.
She should have time to finish her prayer, though. Maybe the letter to her pen pal if she hurried. She turned her attention back to her letter to Gott and reread the words she’d written. Would it be selfish of her to pray for a special male friend so her loneliness would ease? A special friendship would help. Maybe one with someone like her secret pen pal…Kiah Esh. Someone she felt an immediate connection with, even through the mail. She was more than halfway in love with him just from their letters. They were best friends now; she told him everything. Mostly. What would their relationship be like in person?
He wanted to meet…The reminder flashed again. But, no. Love equaled hurt and eventual loss. She didn’t want to live through that pain again.
Gott, please comfort us. Me. Toby’s family. Send the light.
Light flickered across the page.
Hallie caught her breath and lifted her head. A thin beam from the rising sun filtered through the sheer lace curtain hanging over the window.
Outside, the darkness of night receded, and soon the world would brighten.
Perhaps the same would be true of her life.
Or not.
But for right now, she would cling to hope.
Because if she didn’t, she might not make it through another day.
Creaks came from the bed in the living room as her parents got up, and Hallie quickly slid the paper she’d written on under a few other pages filled with notes for her article, gathered them together, and stashed them in the drawer in the hutch where she kept her writing supplies.
A few minutes later, Mamm shuffled into the kitchen wearing fuzzy bunny slippers. The long, fluffy, pink ears wiggled with movement. Those slippers used to make Hallie giggle. Now…when was the last time she’d smiled at something, other than a polite, forced one?
It had to have been before the off-season tornado destroyed everything, slaying her dreams along with her beau. Eighteen long, painful months ago.
Hallie blinked back the sting in her eyes as Mamm lit the lantern. Daed smiled at her as he went past on the way to the barn, but concern filled his eyes. It always seemed to be there these days. In fact, it had been there every time he looked at her since that horrible day when she got the news.
“Were you writing the post for The Budget?” Mamm asked as Daed shut the door behind him. She extinguished the candle and pushed in the chair Hallie had abandoned.
Hallie grabbed her purple pen and put it away in the mug with the other writing utensils. “Gathering my notes and my thoughts for it.” It was a truth-stained lie. Her notes now waited in the stack of papers she’d put away, and
she always prayed before she wrote her weekly article. She tried to think of a way to change the subject. The guests would distract Mamm from discussing what she thought Hallie should write about. “I thought I heard the visiting preacher arrive late last night?”
“Very late, around midnight. He and his wife brought their son along as well,” Mamm said as the door off the newly built attached dawdihaus opened and Hallie’s grandparents came in. They’d lost their home during the tornado and opted to move in with Hallie’s family rather than rebuild.
“Aw, how sweet. I guess I’ll meet him when I get off work.” Hallie glanced from her grandparents to the clock again. “I’ll feed the chickens and gather the eggs, then get ready to go. Unless you think the little boy would like to go out with one of our neighbors’ younger children to see the chickens.”
“I’ll hitch up the horse and buggy for you,” Daadi muttered as he headed out to the barn.
“Our neighbors went to a funeral in Ohio. Remember?” Mamm reminded her. “And he’s not so lit—”
“Good morning.” A strange voice entered the conversation. Male. Must be the preacher. Hallie forced a polite smile and turned to stare at a handsome, beardless man with green eyes and dark blond hair. He held a straw hat in one hand. He most definitely wasn’t a preacher. He’d have her undivided attention if he stood behind a pulpit. Something odd and unexpected pinged her heart. And for a moment—a very brief moment—interest flared. Somehow she knew that this man had the power to melt her heart.
Those beautiful green eyes snagged her attention, and she leaned nearer, caught by the lights flickering off what looked like shards of green sea glass lying in the sunlight. Begging to be gazed at and studied.
His breath hitched, and for a moment, he leaned toward her, something flickering in his expression. Before she could identify it, he frowned, pulling back a little. “What?”
“Your eyes…they are like sunlight on glass.”
An impish smile appeared and he leaned into her space again. “Jah?”
She steeled herself. Despite her crazy unwritten wishes and her prayer, she needed to guard her heart. Especially considering the unexpected flare of attraction.
He looked familiar, as if she’d seen him before. She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out where. When.
A spark of recognition and something else—interest, maybe—flashed in his baby, uh, greens. So they had met. He smiled. “I remember you. Holly, right? But you said you’re not a Christmas baby.”
“Hallie. Not Holly,” she corrected automatically. But oh. There was only one person who’d asked that question…and he’d been standing in a woodshop at the time. That explained where and when. Her forced smile died. Almost a year and a half ago during the most terrible time of her life. Toby’s funeral.
His smile widened. He winked. “Holly and Hallie sound the same to me. But I would love to help you collect eggs.”
And he was a flirt. Lovely. Just lovely. She ignored Mamm’s not-so-subtle head tilt toward the door that urged her to take the boy, er, man, er, guest—because this specimen was certainly not a boy—out to the barn and to be polite. She didn’t have the patience today. Unfortunately, she’d have to put up with flirts all morning at her waitressing job. Most of them were retired, traveling with their significant other and harmless, but there were always a few she had to watch out for. The ones who reached out to pat, touch, or pinch waitresses in inappropriate places. She shuddered.
The green-eyed man’s smile faded.
“I forgot your name.” She glanced at Mamm, who frowned at her with narrowed eyes while beating batter for pancakes. Right. Message received. Be polite. “I mean, nice to meet you. Um, make that welcome to the area.”
“Danki.” His lips quirked. “Hezekiah Esh, at your service. My friends call me Kiah.”
They weren’t friends in real life. Not even close. But his name…Her heart lurched as she thought of the stack of letters hidden in her locked hope chest upstairs, forwarded to the community scribe—her—by The Budget, all written by Kiah Esh. Letters she’d responded to, using her initials. Maybe they were friends. Secretly. So secret he didn’t even know. At least he didn’t know her in person. But, oh, she was anxious to talk with him…She just couldn’t reveal her identity. That was the first rule in her district regarding the scribe. No one was allowed to know who the scribe was. Unless the bishop revealed it. Because the bishop would take the job away and give it to someone else.
Mammi adjusted her trifocals and tapped nearer with her wheelless walker. She peered into Kiah’s face, reached her hands up to touch his cheeks, and studied him; then she pinched his cheeks before she released him and patted his arm. “So you’re the one who’s going to marry our Hallie.”
“Jah, I mean, no. I mean…” Kiah spluttered, and coughed, his eyes bugging.
Hallie’s face burned. She stared at the floor. At least Mammi had good taste in men. But, oh, what Kiah must think. “I need to go to work.” No point in trying to correct Mammi. She wouldn’t understand. “What about the eggs?” Kiah’s voice sounded somewhat strangled.
“You can collect them with my sister.” Hallie pushed past them.
Her arm brushed against Kiah’s as she passed. Weird sparks shot through her. An electrical charge? She shook her head and went upstairs.
Kiah’s last letter, the one she hadn’t responded to yet, had said he would be coming to Hidden Springs, Illinois, to visit her—the one he was writing to, the one with the initials GHB. Actually, he didn’t know she was her. He’d said that while he only knew her initials, he’d be on a mission to find her. He hadn’t said when. Or where he’d be staying. If only she’d known so she could have been better prepared. She’d planned to discourage him from coming. But too late now. She’d have to make the best of it and ensure he’d never find his mystery girl. She didn’t want to lose her job as scribe.
Because the safest place to hide was in plain sight.
* * *
Kiah turned away from the disconcerting mammi and watched Hallie high-tail it for the stairs—the ones he’d just come down.
It was her.
The woman of his dreams.
The unknown woman he’d long intended to marry…
At least until the scribe had written her way into his heart, understanding the pain his ex-girlfriend had caused and his destroyed dreams, and encouraging him to heal, to establish new dreams, and to maybe start over. With her. Though she didn’t say that.
Hallie was a very intriguing girl—and he’d felt sparks when they’d accidentally touched—but now he wasn’t interested. Okay, he was. Actually, he was very interested. She was the one he’d imagined and dreamed of the whole time he was writing, after all. But he held himself back. He’d fallen in love, sight unseen, with the scribe for The Budget. He just had to find out her real name and then convince her she was the one he’d been waiting for. And he was the one she was waiting for.
He’d just wanted her to be Hallie. The woman he’d met and fallen in love with at her boyfriend’s funeral. Love at first sight even though they’d barely exchanged five words in person. But in his thoughts, Hallie was the one he wrote…
Please, Lord, let Hallie be her.
He pushed that thought away. Because as much as he wanted her to be, she couldn’t be GHB. Hallie didn’t start with a G.
The scribe’s real name—would it be Gabby? Gizelle? Gina? Gail? Whatever the G in GHB stood for, he’d find her. And woo her.
Of course, that would be assuming she was young and not married to someone else.
His mamm said it was pure craziness, because the scribe was probably eighty if a day. But the handwriting in her return letters didn’t look old. Daed called it a “wild-goose chase” because if she was available and interested, she would’ve told him her name. And maybe they were right. But he wanted to find out for himself.
He turned back to the kitchen to face the unsettling mammi and the pancake-frying mamm. He cleared his throat.
“I’m not on the market, but Hallie seems like a really nice girl.” Really nice. “I’m actually already involved with someone else from this area. Perhaps you know her? She writes for the Amish newspaper, The Budget, and her name starts with a G. GHB.”
Both women stared at him. The mamm’s mouth gaped, her eyes wide, startled. A measure of doubt clouded Kiah’s vision. Maybe G was married.
The troubling and bothersome mammi cackled. “Talk to Hallie,” the older woman said with a gleam in her eyes.
Right. Because she believed he was going to marry Hallie. Then again, maybe Hallie would know where to find G.
And maybe if he and G didn’t hit it off, he would have a chance to explore the sparks he’d noticed between him and Hallie.
A floorboard creaked and Kiah turned to see Mamm and Daed emerging from the hallway. And Hallie coming downstairs, carrying her purse.
“Hi.” Hallie greeted his parents with an overly polite smile. “I don’t mean to be rude but I’m running late for work. I’m looking forward to getting to know you this afternoon.”
Kiah didn’t think she meant it. She’d sounded too sugary sweet. And she didn’t quite make eye contact. He caught her mamm’s frown.
Hallie’s smile faded as she skittered past Kiah, with her head dipped, gaze down, and careful not to brush against him. So she must’ve felt the sparks, too. Interesting. The scent of lavender trailed her.
“My husband’s in the barn,” the pancake-frying mamm said.
Daed nodded. “Come, Kiah. We can make ourselves useful.”
Kiah put his straw hat on and followed Daed and Hallie out of the haus. A small barn stood on the other side of the circular driveway. The air smelled fresh, as if they’d had a heavy dew overnight. There were no noticeable signs of the terrible twisters that’d touched down with destructive damage almost a year and a half ago. A horse and buggy were already waiting, ready to go, in front of the porch. Hallie put her purse on the seat and climbed in.
Kiah stopped beside the buggy, adjusting his hat to better see Hallie. If he wasn’t already so heart-connected to the scribe, he definitely would act on the temptation to get to know the beautiful woman. Or at least accept the challenge to break through her odd reserve around him. But he’d been different ever since the tornado, which led him to write to the scribe in the first place.
The Amish Secret Wish Page 1
