All He'll Ever Need

by Loree Lough

  Gabe’s eyes widened and his mouth formed an O. Then he threw his arms around her neck and squealed, “Yes! Ask him!”

  “What about you, Sarah? Do I have your blessing to marry your son?”

  The older woman’s eyes filled with tears and, with one hand over her heart, she said, “But Emily, you are not Amish.”

  “Remember when I said I’d done some research? Well, that’s one of the things I looked up. Marriage between people of our varied backgrounds isn’t the norm, but it’s acceptable to New Order Amish . . . as long as I cooperate fully. Allow the bishop to baptize me. Put on the bonnet and the apron, so to speak. And promise never to stand in the way of . . . well, for lack of a better word . . . our ways.”

  “You would do all of that? The clinic? Leave the English world behind? You will respect our ways? All of that, for us?”

  “Yes, Sarah, I would. Definitely I would. But not just for all of you. For me, too.”

  “There’s still the matter of the bills,” Phillip said. “I can’t let you—”

  “Once we’re married, Phillip, we’ll be partners, in all things, in all ways. What’s mine is yours, what’s yours is mine.” She winked. “Just so you know, I might just paint the chicken coop pink.”

  Sarah gasped. “You would not do that!”

  “All right, lavender then.”

  When their laughter quieted, Phillip got up, motioned for the rest of them to do the same.

  “Oh, if only Pete could see us now,” Emily said.

  “He’d be happy?”

  “Yes, Phillip, he’d be happy. Very happy.”

  “Group hug, then,” he said, and once they’d all gathered close, he met his mother’s eyes.

  “I’m gonna need a pin, Maemm.”

  “A pin? What for?”

  “To pop this big fat head of mine, so it won’t get stuck in the doorway.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Ach! Emily’s ‘crazy’ is contagious!”

  “My head swelled right up,” he explained, “when the most beautiful, talented, big-hearted woman in the world asked me to marry her.”

  Sarah chuckled. “And your answer? What will it be?”

  When he shrugged, three voices groaned.

  “Will it be an Amish wedding?” Sarah wanted to know.

  Emily beamed. “Of course. But you’ll have to teach me how it’s done.”

  “Ach,” Phillip said, “Ik ben gezegend.”

  “What does it mean? I forget, Dad.”

  “It means, ‘I am blessed.’”

  Sarah began to cry, and when Gabe asked why, she said, “Ik ook.”

  “I know that one! It means ‘me too’!”

  “Will you and Phillip have more children?” Sarah asked.

  Phillip nodded. “Als dat Gods will is.”

  “This mother’s prayers have been answered!” Sarah exclaimed. Then, “You can take the man out of the Amish, but you cannot take the Amish out of the man. Praises to Him!”

  “I cannot wait,” Gabe said, jumping up and down. “I will have brothers and sisters!” He paused, then added, “If it is God’s will . . .”

  Phillip stepped away from the group, but only long enough to draw Emily into a fierce hug.

  “Ik van je you,” she said.

  “Amish?” he asked. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Told you I’ve been studying!”

  “Now then, how might I stop you from telling us everything else you’ve learned?”

  He read the message that glowed in her eyes, and he kissed her.

  Epilogue

  “There,” Phillip said. “Your sign is fixed.”

  Last week’s storm had blown it from the hangers and split it right down the middle.

  “You didn’t just fix it, Phillip. You made me a brand-new one!”

  “No wife of mine will hang a shingle that looks . . . unkempt.”

  “It’s beautiful. Even better than the first one.”

  Emily stepped back to admire it. BAKER FREE CLINIC, said the bold black letters. Beneath them, Phillip had fashioned a smaller sign of balsa wood, one that could be turned from OPEN to CLOSED.

  “You’re amazing, and I love you to pieces.”

  “I’m amazing? Says the woman who walked away from a prestigious position at the hospital? Sold her house and everything in it to buy this house and lot, which just so happens to abut Baker land? Who works tirelessly to provide neighbors, friends, and family with the best medical care they’ve ever had—even the few who can’t afford to pay for it?” He drew her close. “You are the amazing one. And I love you for it.”

  She snuggled close and felt the unmistakable thump of their baby’s feet against his stomach. Phillip took a half step back, pressed a palm to either side of her swollen belly.

  “He’s an active little fellow, isn’t he?”

  “Could be a she, you know.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “So if it’s a girl, you won’t be disappointed?”

  “Disappointed! A miniature Emily would be a grand addition to the Baker family.” He kissed her, then nodded toward her desk, where she’d started a list of baby names. “Have you decided what we’ll call him . . . or her?”

  One hand resting on her stomach, she said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. Petra for a girl, Peter for a boy.”

  “Good, strong names. Pete would be proud. And I’m proud to bestow the name in his memory.” Placing his hand atop hers, he said, “Are you happy, Emily?”

  “Ecstatically. Deliriously. Madly happy.”

  It’s what she always said when he asked the question, and more than anything, she hoped he believed her, every time.

  “But Em, you’ve experienced so many changes. The sacrifices have fallen on your shoulders alone.”

  “I haven’t sacrificed anything. My life is better than it has ever been.” She kissed his chin. “Besides, you sacrificed your bachelor life to become my husband.”

  “Ah, yes. My oh-so-active bachelor life.”

  She’d never grow tired of hearing him laugh this way. It told her that he was happy, right here where he belonged, surrounded by the Plain people and lifestyle he loved.

  “Be honest now,” he said. “You don’t mind wearing skirts and aprons?”

  “Not a bit. The clothing is actually quite liberating.”

  “And the shoes?”

  “Very sturdy. Very supportive. Even after a long day on my feet.”

  He tucked wayward curls from her ears, as he’d been doing almost from the moment they’d met. “Make me a promise.”

  “Who knew you could be so greedy! I’ve already promised to spend the rest of my life beside you. Promised to spend it here, in Pleasant Valley, living the Plain life. Promised to give you children. And you want more?”

  He grinned. “Well, when you put it that way . . .”

  Giggling, Emily stood on tiptoe, and after kissing him, said, “For you, I’ll promise anything. Anything.”

  “You’re right. I am greedy. Because the truth of it is . . . you’re all I’ll ever need.”

  She’d heard it said that the human heart could overflow with love, but until she met Phillip, Emily hadn’t believed it. He’d brightened every dark corner of her life, bringing laughter and fun in ways that only he could.

  “Promise me you’ll never hide your beautiful hair under a bonnet.”

  “But Phillip! What would Micah Fisher say about that!”

  He did his best to imitate the bishop. “Obey your husband, woman. If he says do not cover your hair . . .”

  The baby kicked again, and bending at the waist, Phillip kissed her belly. Straightening, he said, “Promise?”

  “All right. Here at the clinic, and in the privacy of our house, I won’t wear the cap. But in church and when we’re—”

  “That’s m’girl.”

  A lifetime ago, when Alex had spoken those very words, she’d wanted to bellow, “I’m not your girl!” But now, standing in the protective
circle of Phillip’s arms, Emily thought they were almost the most beautiful words in the English language.

  “I love you,” he said.

  Those . . . those were the most beautiful words, and she’d never tire of hearing—or saying—them.

  Please read on for an excerpt from

  Loree Lough’s next Amish romance,

  HOME TO STAY.

  The work was hard, but Max liked it that way. The more demanding the job, the faster the hours passed. If he had a complaint, it was his partner’s unpredictable moods.

  “Where is Samuel?” Dan bellowed.

  “Unloading the truck,” the foreman said, pointing.

  Max watched Dan’s frown become a scowl as he stomped toward the flatbed, where Sam had just handed a two-by-four to Jonah. “You two . . . !”

  “Who?” they asked.

  “Your feet do not fit a limb, fools.”

  The Miller brothers—taller and broader than Dan—flinched as he used the roll of blueprints as a pointer. When he’d finished taking them to task for leaving the office trailer unlocked, he made his way to Max.

  Sensing Dan’s mood today was foul, Max’s mutt trotted closer to his master.

  “You are not afraid that beast will get hurt on the job?”

  “I would never let him get near anything dangerous. Besides, I like his company.”

  The sarcasm was lost on Dan, who said, “Your dog, your decision.” He stepped onto the porch and smacked the roll against a support post. “Do not marry. Do not ever, ever take a wife.”

  Max had grown tired of listening to the man’s criticism of his wife. Squatting, he plucked sawdust from Rascal’s fur and hoped Dan would take the hint.

  He did not.

  “You cannot satisfy a woman. Build her a house, she wants to fill it with children. And if the doctor says she cannot bear them, there will be no consoling her. So much for accepting all things as part of God’s will!” He kicked at the post, missed, and issued a low growl. “I will gladly work to provide for children of my own. But to endure blisters and gashes and a sunburnt neck for a young’un born of another man’s loins? I think not! But is Anki grateful for my honesty? No! She punishes me with cold stares and brutal, never-ending silence. Two solid weeks of it!” He kicked again, and this time, made contact.

  Rascal pressed closer as Max said, “Thank God for steel-toed boots, eh?”

  That joke, too, fell on deaf ears.

  “Take my advice, boy. A wife is for cooking and cleaning and not much more. You can do those things for yourself and save your sanity!”

  Boy, indeed. Max had been doing for himself since the accident—six long years ago now—that took most of his family. The women in his life had contributed far more than belly-filling meals and clean laundry. They’d tended gardens, stitched quilts, crocheted sweaters and afghans, and managed shops that kept the Englishers coming back, year after year. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have them back again!

  “Lord, give me patience,” Dan was saying.

  “Ask for patience and you will get it by way of trials and tribulations. Be smart, m’friend. Pray for endurance, instead.”

  Dan waved away the advice and focused on something across the way. Max followed his line of sight and saw a young woman walking toward them. Walking fast enough to kick up clouds of dust with every purposeful bootstep. The brisk October wind pressed her gray skirt against long, muscular legs that told him she didn’t spend her days lounging about, and mussed shiny curls that had escaped the confines of her cap . . . curls the color of the chestnuts his grandmother had once roasted at Christmastime.

  Was she a visitor here, or new to Pleasant Valley?

  “That,” Dan said, pointing, “is the second thorn in my side.” He thumbed the hard hat to the back of his head. “Anki’s live-in helper.”

  “Helper?” He met Dan’s eyes. “I hope Anki is not sick.”

  “Hmpf. In the mind, maybe. Dr. Baker says she is depressed, because she cannot have a baby.” Using his chin as a pointer, he said, “And that one? She pops one out that she did not even want.” He harrumphed again. “Are all women crazy?”

  She didn’t look crazy to Max, but then, he was paying far more attention to eyes so big he could tell, even from this distance, that they were green.

  “You forgot your lunch,” she told Dan. Thrusting a black, dome-topped lunch pail at him, she added, “Again.”

  “You would forget, too, if you had to deal with Anki’s nonstop whining.”

  From her facial expression alone, Max decided she didn’t approve of the way Dan belittled his wife any more than he did. So far, she hadn’t made eye contact. A good thing, since he’d probably fumble and stutter and trip over his own boots, as he always had around pretty girls.

  Just then, she zeroed in on him. “Don’t tell me this is your business partner.” Without looking away, she said, “Why haven’t I seen him before?”

  “Maybe because, like most women, you are interested only in yourself.”

  She clucked her tongue. And then, in a misguided attempt to emulate Dan’s deep voice, she said, “Nice of you to deliver my lunch, Willa. Be careful walking through the construction site on your way out. And tell Anki I’ll be there. . . .” Eyes narrowed, she said through clenched teeth, “When will you be home?”

  “I will get there when I get there.” He clutched the lunchbox to his broad chest. “Now go. We have work to do.”

  Ignoring the insinuation, she inspected Max, starting with his well-worn work boots, stopping when their eyes met.

  “What’s your name, partner?”

  He shifted the hammer from his right hand to the left. “Max. Max Lambright.”

  “Short for Maxwell?”

  “Maximillian.”

  “Well, Maximillian Lambright, I feel very, very sorry for you, having to spend your days with this”—she glared at Dan—“with this ungrateful, two-legged porcupine.” She started walking away, stopping long enough to say, “And in case he hasn’t already told you all about my pathetic past, I might as well do it myself. I’m Willa. Willa Reynolds, the reformed drug addict and unwed mother who would probably be in jail—or dead—if not for Anki’s kindness and generosity.”

  And without another word, she jogged away.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Bestselling author Loree Lough once sang for her supper performing across the U.S. and Canada. Now and then, she blows the dust from her 6-string to croon a tune or two, but mostly, she writes novels that have earned hundreds of industry and “Readers’ Choice” awards, 4- and 5-star reviews, and 7 book-to-movie options. All He’ll Ever Need (#1 in the “A Child Shall Lead Them” series for Kensington Publishing) is her 116th published book.