Her Surprise Amish Match, page 1
“That fella you’re writing. Is he anyone special?”
Amity blinked. “I’m surprised you recalled that.”
“I pay more attention than you think I do.”
She paused a moment before answering. “I’ve only gotten one letter so far. But it was quite sweet. He’s, um, interested.”
Curiosity prodded at Ethan. “You planning to write back?”
She laughed. “Ja. I think I will.” Crossing her fingers, she comically bit her lower lip. Her nose scrunched in the cutest way. “Who knows? This might be the one.”
As they conversed, Ethan’s fingers nervously intertwined with the edge of his suspenders. He tried to suppress the pounding of his heart, but it was futile. The realization dawned on him like the first light of a new day. He was jealous another fellow had her interest.
The newfound emotion was exhilarating. And terrifying. Her hopes reflected his own yearnings.
The ice chilling his emotions had, at long last, begun to thaw.
He felt a presence, as if Gott was guiding him gently forward...encouraging him to embrace life once more.
Pamela Desmond Wright grew up in a small, dusty Texas town. Like the Amish, Pamela is a fan of the simple life. Her childhood includes memories of the olden days: old-fashioned oil lamps, cooking over an authentic wood-burning stove and making popcorn over a crackling fire at her grandparents’ cabin. The authentic log cabin Pamela grew up playing in was donated to the Muleshoe Heritage Center in Muleshoe, Texas, where it is on public display.
Books by Pamela Desmond Wright
Love Inspired
The Cowboy’s Amish Haven
Finding Her Amish Home
The Amish Bachelor’s Bride
Bonding over the Amish Baby
Her Surprise Amish Match
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com.
Her Surprise Amish Match
Pamela Desmond Wright
But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.
—Romans 8:25
For Claire Matturro
My dear friend, mentor and go-to beta reader.
Much praise also goes to my editor, Melissa Endlich, and my agent, Tamela Hancock Murray. Both ladies are super-savvy and smart, and keep me on track when doubt creeps in. I couldn’t write these books without their guidance, wisdom and encouragement. I’m happy they have come along for the adventure.
Bless you all!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Her Loyal Companion by Heidi Main
Chapter One
Ethan Zehr watched the hustle of activity outside the window of his kaffeeshop. Workers with boxes were going in and out of the retail space across from his as the new owner labored diligently to make her mark on the neighborhood.
His brow furrowed as he took in the sight; he had not been consulted about the incoming change in proprietors. The fact that he had been left out of the loop irritated him. Still, there was nothing he could do about it.
Frowning, he shook his head. His reflection in the glass returned a grimace.
“There she goes again.”
Lowering his newspaper, his daed looked up. “There goes who?”
“Amity Schroder. You know—that fraulein who is opening the new store. She’s got all sorts of people bringing in all sorts of gewgaws.”
Daed thumbed through the rest of the news. “Don’t see that it’s any concern of yours. Better to have another business there rather than have it sitting empty. More customers are always welcome.”
“I’d hoped to buy that side when it came up for sale. I wanted to knock down these walls in the middle and expand our seating space.”
“I thought Charlotte Dekker’s familie would give you that option. But it looks like Tanner had other ideas. Sold it right out from under you, didn’t he?”
“Ja. Tanner promised he would give me first consideration after his grossmammi closed the quilt shop.” Prickling with disappointment, Ethan turned away from the scene outside. Reaching for the dish towel draped over one shoulder, he then wiped his hands. “Guess he wasn’t a man of his word.”
“At least the new owner is Amish.”
Ethan’s frown deepened. “Not the sort I’d welcome as a neighbor.”
“What’s the matter with her?” The old man lowered his head, peering over the edge of thick black rims. “We’ve spoken a few times. She seems nice enough.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. She’s got a fresh mouth and likes to argue.”
“Seems to me the girl’s got grit.” After clearing his gravelly throat, Wayne Zehr chuckled. “Maybe if you’d try smiling instead of snapping, she’d be a little friendlier.”
Ethan declined to answer. He hadn’t slept well the night before. His restless mind kept him tossing and turning. They’d only lived in Burr Oak for a few months. Everything was unfamiliar. The change had been hard, but necessary. Working day and night, he was determined to make the new venture a success. Fail, and he’d lose everything.
He rubbed his tired eyes, then glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten to six. The doors hadn’t opened yet, but the day was already filled with activity. Plain folks rose before the sun to start work, and the vendors supplying the goods expected someone to be available as they made their rounds. Gemma Stutz had already dropped off the muffins and cinnamon rolls she baked fresh every day. Jonah Hoffman’s butcher shop, too, had delivered the best cuts of deli meat. And Dottie Weaver never failed to bring in loaves of her home-baked bread for the sandwiches served at lunchtime. In another hour, the morning rush would begin as people lined up to grab a hot drink and a quick breakfast before heading to work. He silently vowed to make his little corner café the best in town; customers had already begun to talk about the quality of his beverages and the comfort of his service.
He walked behind the counter. “Miss Schroder is nice enough, I’m sure,” he said, flicking on the propane-powered appliances. “But she’s too progressive for my tastes. Don’t know if you saw it, but she’s brought in a computer.” As he spoke, his mind flitted back to the day he’d heard the retail space occupying the other half of the building had a new owner. Turned out in a blue frock, white apron, black hose and flats, the petite woman’s outfit was simple but smartly worn. A white kapp covered her hair. Dark locks were pinned into a tight bun, but a few strands managed to escape. The curls brushed her intelligent brow, adding a glimmer of mischief to her youthful demeanor. She’d introduced herself right away. Full of energy and ideas, she smiled and laughed often.
She was also more than willing to stand up and speak her mind.
Not the way a lady should act at all.
“These Texas Amish do things we might not.” A shrug rolled off his daed’s shoulders. “Don’t know if it’s a bad thing. Just different.”
Ethan sniffed with disapproval. “Back in Augsberger, Bishop Swarey would never have granted permission for the use of unnecessary electronics.”
Daed folded his newspaper and set it aside. A monthly release, Thrifty Living featured a little bit of everything for the local Plain community—word-of-mouth news jawed over a neighbor’s fence, at a livestock auction, or in a sewing circle. “We’re not in Oklahoma anymore.”
“Guess not.”
“Since we live here now, it’s up to us to adjust our ways.”
“I get what you’re saying. When in Rome, do as the Romans.” Frustrated, he pressed out a sigh. “Not sure I’d agree.”
“Ach, how is it I raised such a stick-in-the-mud? You sure took after your mamm. She always was too stiff and proper.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
Daed shook his head. “I loved Letha, Gott rest her soul. But she’d have been a happier woman if she’d learned to bend. Compromise is part of getting along in life.”
“I don’t feel comfortable doing that. Not when it concerns things our Ordnung forbids.”
“But theirs does not,” Daed countered. “If you don’t like it, petition the Leit to change it.”
“I might do that.” Mulling the idea, Ethan opened a canister. He scooped out a heap of whole-roasted kaffee beans, dumped them into a grinder and then cranked the handle until the remnants looked like coarse pepper. After pouring the grounds into a French press, he let the boiling water rest before adding it. Poured too hot, it would scorch the grounds and give the beverage a burned flavor.
Letting the grounds steep, he stirred them before placing the lid on the press. He pressed the plunger, pushing the blend down to the bottom of the carafe. The dark roast produced a rich brew. Created with raw beans from Costa Rica, the full-bodied brew was flavored with notes of cherry, honey and plum. He filled two cups and carried both to the café table where Daed sat.
“Better drink up. We’ll
Leaning forward, Wayne inhaled the fragrant scent. “Ach, this is one of my better blends.” He gulped down a mouthful. A master crafter, he drank his hot and black. Adding anything else to it was an insult.
Ethan took a chair. He added a splash of cream, preferring to smooth the acidity. Unlike other cafés that relied on prepackaged blends, the kaffee he served was roasted and freshly ground every morning.
“I’m beginning to wonder if it was a mistake moving to Texas,” he said, unwilling to let the conversation drop. Burr Oak had a thriving Amish community, but their branch was a bit more permissive than he was accustomed to. Wary of worldly ideas and values, the Old Order settlement he was raised in kept Englischers at arm’s length to preserve the community and its values. And the use of electricity was verboten unless provided by generators or other means not connected to the city power grid. Cell phones and computers were also given a wide berth.
“You weren’t doing gut. You’ve struggled since Priscilla passed. So are Charity and Liam.”
Dropping his gaze, Ethan stared into the depths of his cup. The words pulled at his heartstrings even as a sense of helplessness washed through him. Priscilla’s sudden death had torn a gaping hole through their lives. Losing his mamm had turned their happy sohn into a sullen, angry teenager. Charity, too, had changed. Once a chatterbox, his daughter had grown quiet and uncommunicative.
Attempting to find a bit of warmth, his hands circled the stoneware mug. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I do. And you know it, too. You just won’t admit it.”
“The youngies need a mutter,” he said, repeating the sentence he’d heard a thousand times before.
“Aye. And you need a wife.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready. It’s not even been a year...” Unable to go any further, he let his words drift off.
“Prissy belongs to the Lord,” Daed said. “She is free from the sorrows of this world.”
Ethan swallowed against the rush of emotion pulsing through him. Grief continued to be a millstone, grinding his psyche down to nothing. Watching his ehefrau’s coffin as it was lowered into the cold ground had been a blow that had taken him to his knees.
“It’s not fair. What about those left behind?” Clenching his fingers, he pressed his fist against his chest. “My heart has a hole bigger than my hand. How do I fill it when it feels so empty?”
Daed returned a gentle look. “It doesn’t have to be. Cloaking yourself in grief—in the past—isn’t what the Lord intends for us to do. Instead of weeping, rejoice that Gott has prepared a place for us in heaven.”
Looking back, Ethan felt a tremble beneath his skin. Waves of memories crashed through his mind, each slamming in harder than the last. Barely eighteen when he’d married Priscilla, he’d imagined spending his life with her, raising their youngies as they transitioned into a ripe old age. He’d meant every word when they’d taken their vows. To love her. To cherish her. To protect her. But Gott hadn’t seen fit to grant them much time together.
He managed a breath. And then another. “I don’t feel any joy.”
Daed shifted, placing a firm hand on his arm. “It’s time to move on, sohn. You have to live again.”
“I am trying.” And he was. Desperately. But the agony tearing through him left him feeling vulnerable. Defenseless. How did a man recover from losing the love of his life? He wasn’t sure. He’d never imagined his dear Priscilla would be the first to pass. She died after a bout with pneumonia. A delicate woman, she’d struggled for years with her health.
Daed leaned back. “It’s hard, I know. But you need to think about Liam and Charity. Your youngies need a woman in the haus.” He stroked his long gray beard. A bit on the scraggly side, he only trimmed it twice a year, for Christmas and Easter. “A helpmeet would go a long way toward easing your burden.”
Ethan blinked against the moisture blurring his vision. “Since I’ve no one to marry, I suppose I could hire a housekeeper.”
Daed shook his head. A squint etched the edges of his eyes. “You could. But how long would that last? You are still a young man. And you want more kinder. Ja?”
“I do. Many more.” He spread his hands in frustration. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve courted. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Why don’t you start with letters? Some folks are shy and prefer to put their thoughts on paper before they meet in person.” Daed tapped the newspaper with a finger. “In the socials section, there are frauleins requesting pen pals. That might be a nice way to meet a few ladies. You could start by exchanging notes and see how you like it.”
“Nay,” he said, brushing off the suggestion. “I prefer the old-fashioned way. In person.” Daed was persistent when it came to the idea he needed to remarry right away. Of course, he’d like to. But he didn’t want to rush into a relationship, either. When an Amish man settled on his helpmeet, it was for life. Choose the wrong woman and he’d be stuck.
“Suit yourself.” Daed shook a finger. “But you need someone before this familie falls apart.”
“I know...” He scrubbed a hand across his bearded face. As a widower, he was entitled to shave it off. But he couldn’t. Not yet. He wasn’t ready.
“Believe me when I say I only want what is best for you and my enkelkinder.” Offering a smile of encouragement, Daed put a hand on his arm. “Maybe you could sit down and try to write a letter. It doesn’t have to be your whole life. Just reach out and say hello. It wouldn’t hurt you to make a lady friend.”
Ethan glanced at the newspaper. It wasn’t uncommon for the Amish to do their courting through the mail. “I’ll try.” Not now, but maybe later. He’d never been much for putting his thoughts on paper.
The conversation thankfully didn’t have a chance to go further.
Charity poked her head out of the kitchen. Now twelve, she was required to dress in a manner that wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. Her ankle-length dress was cut from coarse gray fabric, as were her apron and head covering. Her prayer kapp, too, had subtle differences from those worn by the Burr Oak Amish. The style was more akin to a headscarf, flat and unpleated. Loosely fitting around the head, it tucked up beneath her hair, hiding every tendril. Two strings tied under her chin held it securely in place.
“There’s a man at the back door asking to come into the utility room.”
Ethan froze. “Now, why would that be?”
“He said something about installing the broadband.”
“I never ordered that.” Leaving his kaffee, Ethan pushed away from the table. He rose and rounded the counter.
“I think he’s here for the lady next door. I heard her talking to that Englisch fellow who works with her. He was saying he needed it installed for the stuff he was doing.” More than a little excited, Charity grinned. “He said the whole building will have Wi-Fi.”
Ethan bristled. Since claiming the keys to her side, Amity Schroder had been making changes to the property. Changes he didn’t agree to. As tenants-in-common, each was supposed to have a fifty-fifty say on such matters. Rudely, she’d consulted him on nothing.
“I’ll not allow the devil’s contrivance to be installed.”
“Don’t think there’s anything you can do,” Daed called from behind.
Ethan’s attention swung between his daughter and father. “We will see about that.”
Raising his eyebrows, Daed shot back a quizzical look. A smile lingered around the upturned edges of his mouth. “Go with Gott.” Chuckling, he plucked a pencil out of his pocket, then jotted a few letters on the crossword puzzle.
Spurred into action, Ethan stomped through the kitchen toward the back alley. A service tech in a brown uniform waited by a large white van. Clipboard in hand, the man had come prepared to do his job.
Not going to happen. If Amity Schroder wanted an argument, then she would have one.
* * *
Hands on her hips, Amity Schroder surveyed her new shop. The retail space she’d recently purchased was still in disarray. Now that the display cases and other shelving had arrived, merchandise needed to be unpacked. Up with the sun, her staff was hard at work.
