by Alison Stone
“You’re spoiling us,” Hannah said, gratitude filling her heart.
“I can’t take credit. Your friend Rebecca dropped them off.”
Hannah tugged at her scarf. “Rebecca?” Hannah hadn’t spoken with her friend since the day after her husband, Willard, was arrested. Back then, Rebecca had been hurt and angry and had turned her childhood friend away.
“Your friend has such beautiful skin.” Mrs. Greene lifted her hand to her wrinkled cheek and then seemed to mentally shake herself. “She said she was sorry and she hoped to see you soon. She seems like such a dear girl.”
Hannah drew in a deep breath and smiled. “That’s very good news. I’ll have to take a drive to visit her.” Through the Apple Creek grapevine, she had heard Rebecca was fairing surprisingly well. Perhaps she found peace in being out from under Willard’s oppressive thumb now that he was in jail, most likely for the rest of his life.
Mrs. Greene looked at Hannah thoughtfully. “I’m so happy to have you back. The girls fill my quiet home with laughter. It’s a blessing.” Mrs. Greene fidgeted with the edge of her apron. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do more for you and your mother when she was ill.”
“My mother and I had plenty of support from her Amish friends.” Hannah smiled at the bittersweet memory of her mother’s last days. Although the brain tumor had zapped her strength, it hadn’t diminished her faith. And mother and daughter had grown especially close in those last few months.
Hannah hesitated a minute then glanced up the stairs. “Would you like to join us for our afternoon snack?”
“Oh, no.” Mrs. Greene waved in dismissal. “You’re busy.”
A stomping sounded on the porch. Through the sheers on the door, she saw Spencer in his sheriff’s uniform. She pulled open the door, a wide smile on her face. “Fancy meeting you here.”
He kissed her on the forehead with cold lips, warming her heart. “I wanted to see how the girls made out their first day back at school.”
“Great! Come on up, I promised them hot chocolate.” Hannah turned to go upstairs while Spencer closed the door behind him. “Can I talk to you first?”
Mrs. Greene’s eyebrows shot up. “Why don’t I keep the girls company while you chat?”
Hannah smiled, pleased Mrs. Greene had gotten over her reluctance to join them. “That would be wonderful.” Hannah handed over the chocolate chip cookies.
After Mrs. Greene went into Hannah’s apartment, Hannah turned to Spencer. “It’s really snowy out there.”
He tipped his head and gave her a look, a look that said, We’re not going to talk about the weather, are we?
“How are you doing?” The sincerity in Spencer’s voice warmed her heart.
“Better. I miss my mom, but I know she’s in a better place.”
Spencer nodded. He reached out and held her hand. “She was blessed to have you.”
“And I was blessed to have her.” She bowed her head; a tear fell unbidden down her cheek.
He dragged his knuckles tenderly across her cheek. “I hope your mother didn’t mind my visits. I did the best to respect the Amish ways.”
“My mom really liked you. I’m glad she got to know you.” She leaned into his hand.
“What’s not to like?” A light twinkled in his eyes.
“We never spoke of it, but my mother and I came to an understanding. She’s at peace with my decision to leave the Amish. She knows my faith is strong. She knows I’ll do what’s best for the girls.”
“I’m happy for you.” He paused long enough for her to wonder what was on his mind. “I have good news.”
Hannah’s heart raced. She swallowed hard. “About the girls?”
“Yes.” Half his mouth quirked into a grin. “I ran into that lawyer Jones in town. He told me the Lapps weren’t going to fight for custody of Emma and Sarah.”
“Really?” she said on a huge breath of relief.
“That’s what he said. I’m sure you’ll have to sign a few legal forms. The lawyer seemed surprised the Amish don’t like to deal with the court system. I suppose if Jones knew that, he would have never approached them in the first place.”
“I’m sure that was part of it,” Hannah said, brushing a dusting of snow from Spencer’s shoulder, “but I also want to believe the Lapps came to realize over the past few months how much I love the girls. And that they’re happy with me.”
“I’m happy with you.” The intensity in his gaze tangled nerves in her belly. “You have brought so much into my life. I finally feel I have found my purpose. God’s purpose for my life. I can’t thank you enough.”
Hannah drew in a shaky breath and watched him through blurry eyes. “Thank you for being patient with me.”
“You’re worth the wait.” Spencer leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. He deepened the kiss, sending tingles of awareness coursing through her body.
“Are you going to be my new dad?” Emma appeared at the top of the stairs. She had already dropped the Amish dat for dad.
Hannah and Spencer pulled away. Embarrassment added to the heat of the kiss.
Sarah appeared and put her hands on her little sister’s shoulders. “Are you going to be our new dad?”
Kids adjust easily, her mother had said during the final days of her life. Her mother had given her lots of pearls of wisdom that kept popping into her head now that she was gone.
“Girls!” Hannah playfully scolded.
“Would you like that?” Spencer asked the girls and squeezed Hannah’s hand.
They both nodded eagerly.
Hannah turned to look at Spencer. Hesitation flashed across his features, and for one horrifying moment, Hannah thought Spencer looked like a deer caught in the headlights. A slow smile transformed his face. He unzipped his coat and reached into his inside coat pocket. Her pulse thrummed in her ears.
Spencer pulled out a small black box, and Hannah almost passed out with surprise. Her vision tunneled onto his handsome face.
He dropped to one knee right there on the slushy-wet foyer carpet. He popped open the box, revealing a solitaire diamond engagement ring.
“Will you marry me, Hannah Wittmer?”
Lifting her free hand to her mouth, she nodded. Tears flooded her eyes.
“What did she say?” Mrs. Greene asked from the top landing.
Hannah and Spencer laughed in unison.
“Yes,” Hannah said while he pulled himself to his feet. “Yes, yes, yes...I’ll marry you.”
Spencer slipped the ring onto her finger and lifted her hand to his lips. “I love you.”
The thudding of little feet racing down the stairs broke the trance. Hannah and Spencer held out their arms and pulled the girls into their embrace.
“Well, if this ain’t better than the afternoon soaps, I don’t know what is.” Mrs. Greene held up a finger. “I hear the kettle. Time to celebrate with some hot chocolate.”
Spencer and Hannah climbed the stairs to her upstairs apartment, his arm wrapped around her. The little girls ran ahead.
“I never thought I could be this happy,” Hannah said, thinking about all the failed attempts to fit in throughout her life.
“I know what you mean.”
When they entered her apartment, Hannah stopped and turned to face him. “Where will we live once we get married? Your apartment or mine?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, as if he had been considering this a long time already, he said, “I had my eye on a little hobby farm in Apple Creek. If you want, we can take a drive out tomorrow to look at it.”
Excitement bubbled in her chest. “You’ve given this some thought.”
“Yes, and I’ve also given something else some thought.”
Hannah jerked back her head, confused.
Spe
ncer dramatically placed an index finger on his lips. “I bet two little girls would like a kitty for our new home.”
Emma’s eyes grew wide. “Yes!” She hugged him around the waist.
Spencer placed his hand on Emma’s back. “I talked to Rebecca yesterday. She told me Pumpkin would be much happier with you and Sarah.”
Sarah dropped the cookie she had picked up and ran over and hugged both Emma and Spencer. Hannah’s heart melted all over again.
“Thank you,” Hannah mouthed to her future husband.
A warm smile played on his lips.
Hannah approached her little family and placed her arm around her future husband.
“Now, who am I going to fuss over if you four move out?” Mrs. Greene’s lips twisted into an I-don’t-know-what-I’ll-do smirk.
“Why do we think you’ll be just fine?” Spencer winked at the older woman who had become like a grandmother to him. “Besides, we’re not moving far.”
Mrs. Greene blushed and a mischievous grin lit her face. “You got a good one here, Hannah. Good thing I’m not a few years younger.” She hustled to the stove and lifted the kettle from the burner. “Who wants whipped cream in their hot chocolate?”
Emma and Sarah ran over to the island and sat down. Spencer wrapped his arm around Hannah’s shoulders. A feeling of contentedness settled over her like a warm shawl on a snowy afternoon. She turned and whispered to Spencer, “I finally feel like I belong.”
“Me, too,” Spencer said. “Me, too.”
* * * * *
Look for more gripping stories
from Alison Stone later in 2015.
You’ll find them wherever
Love Inspired Suspense books are sold!
Keep reading for an excerpt from SILENT HUNTER by Maggie K. Black.
Dear Reader,
I hoped you enjoyed Plain Peril. It’s my second Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense set in Apple Creek, NY. The first was Plain Pursuit. The fictional Apple Creek is loosely based on the real Amish community along Route 62 in Conewango Valley, NY, about an hour drive from Buffalo, NY. It wasn’t until I started research for my first Amish book, that I realized an Amish community existed so close to my hometown. Imagine my surprise!
Everything Amish seems to be popular these days, and fiction is no exception. Writing suspense around the constraints of Amish characters is both fun and challenging. Challenging because my editor will make a note on the manuscript such as, “Where is she charging her cell phone?” (My heroine is reluctant to leave behind her English ways.) Finding creative ways to work around these problems is part of the fun.
In real life, the Amish are very creative, too. On one visit to Conewango Valley, my daughters and I stopped at an Amish candy shop. They were able to use a modern mixer by threading the electrical cord through an opening to the outside where they had it connected to a gas-powered generator. Ta-da! Electricity! In many Amish communities, electricity is acceptable as long as the house is not connected to the grid.
I’ve enjoyed learning and writing about the Amish. I look forward to future visits to Apple Creek.
I love to hear from my readers. Feel free to send me a note at my email address: [email protected]. Or “like” me on Facebook: www.facebook.com/AlisonStoneAuthor.
Live, Love, Laugh,
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.
You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.
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ONE
Worn wooden rungs creaked loudly under Nicky Trailer’s boots. The ladder quivered as she climbed. She was a good twenty feet up in the air, smack-dab in the middle of Camp Spirit’s main lodge, halfway between the old wooden floors and steeply slanted ceiling. The camp director’s hazel eyes glanced up at the ceiling hatch high above her head. When she’d decided to store years’ worth of paperwork up inside the claustrophobic crawlspace, she hadn’t expected the camp’s owner would ever send her on such a short-notice scavenger hunt. Especially not because he’d invited a reporter to the camp without telling her. “This still feels like a terrible idea.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, the loft’s only three stories up, and here I seem to remember a certain tomboy in pigtails once being the youngest girl in camp history to conquer the high ropes.” George Dale’s warm chuckle echoed up the A-framed walls.
“That’s not what I—” The words froze on her tongue as she caught the twinkle in the old man’s eyes. Her elderly boss was teasing. As always. Apparently he wasn’t the slightest bit worried about having some journalist poking around the day before she led the most important canoe trip of her life. So why was she?
“I was the youngest camper period, and don’t you forget it.” Nikki flashed a grin and tucked an unruly curl of long brown hair firmly back under her bandanna. “You’re not getting out of discussing this reporter thing that easily. Though if I’d realized the loft ladder had gotten this creaky, I’d have added a new one of those to my wish list, too.”
Right behind patching the roof, better sports equipment and rebuilding the boathouse. There were two months until summer camp and the list of things needing repair was growing longer by the day. Her gaze ran through towering glass windows, past the cabins, down to where the morning sun set rays of light dancing on the lake. She’d spent almost twenty years among these Ontario trees—first as camper, then counselor and now as George’s second in command. Nicky ran Camp Spirit’s summer and off-season camps, while George managed the business side. It was a great partnership that felt more like family than owner and employee.
If only our days weren’t numbered. It was only a question of whether money troubles or George’s failing health sank Camp Spirit first. His tendency to take on the neediest campers regardless of their ability to pay didn’t leave much left over for new equipment and repairs. And while George’s only son, Trevor, worked there occasionally, it was clear the young man would rather sell than fill his father’s shoes.
Which is why tomorrow’s trip is way too important to mess up by having some Toronto journalist tag along. George had invited a handful of community and business leaders for a weekend of camping on an isolated Muskoka island. He’d pitched it as “three days extreme camping, followed by a serious discussion about investing in Camp Spirit’s future.” She wasn’t quite sure what kind of investment he had in mind, but even a donation of volunteers or equipment could mean staying open another summer or two. The trapdoor slid back easily. Dust and cobwebs filled the air.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but inviting any media up at this point is just asking for bad press.” She climbed into the attic on her hands and knees. “Do you want me to get a cabin ready for him?”
“Actually, he’s staying with me.” George looked up at her through the hole in the floor. He ran one hand along his white beard. “Mr. Wolf is coming up as a friend, not a reporter. He’s a really outstanding young man, and I wanted to make sure you had a chance to get to know him one-on-one, before everyone else arrived tomorrow. I’m hoping you two will really hit it off.”
What exactly did he mean by that? It would hardly be the first time the widower had invited someone to swing by in a misguided attempt at playing matchmaker. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “Wel
l, if he’s a friend of yours, I’m sure we’ll get along as friends just fine.”
She picked her way through mountains of old tarps and sports equipment. George was an old softie, but he had to know she had no intention of ever leaving these woods, let alone following some man to the city. Besides, it wasn’t as though the camp didn’t have a steady stream of healthy, God-fearing bachelors come tramping through.
Sure, the first time a cute guy held her hand by the water and said he liked her, she’d believed him with every beat of her foolish heart. She’d been eighteen then. Louie had been nineteen and a counselor from their rival camp, with sad gray-blue eyes and a white scar that curved at his throat. He’d left without even saying goodbye, and now after watching countless other camp romances flare up then fizzle out, it was clear that while the moonlight might bring out the romantic in people, they usually just ended up walking right back out of these woods as easily as they’d walked in.
A pile of old camp mats slithered apart underneath her. “Now, remind me what—”
The crash below was deafening. A wooden echo shook the floor beneath her. A cry rose to her lips but she bit it back. “George? What was that? Are you okay?”
Silence came from the hole in the floor. Her eyes glanced up toward the skylight for a second as she prayed. Please, Lord, don’t let it be another heart attack. He barely survived the last one. She scrambled to the trapdoor and looked down. The ladder had fallen over. The dining hall was empty. Hopefully that meant he’d just gone to grab something. “Hey!” She kept her voice upbeat but loud. “Where’d you go? That ladder won’t stand on its own.”
Any response he might have given was lost in the sound of a powerful engine peeling down the camp’s gravel road. She slid over to the skylight and opened it. A black sports car pulled to a neat stop beside the lodge. A man stepped out. Nicky’s mouth went dry. The visitor was tall, with tousled black hair and just the hint of three-o’clock shadow along his jaw. His broad shoulders were cleanly framed by the lines of a gray suit jacket. Sunglasses hid his eyes, while the crisp dress shirt did nothing to disguise the solid strength that lay beneath it. He loosened his tie just enough to undo his top button. A frown crossed his lips. Then he disappeared around the corner toward the office door.
