His Amish Choice

He came back home...but will he stay?

A Colorado Amish Courtships novel

When Lizzie Beiler’s fiancé cast her and his Amish faith aside to pursue an Englisch education, she vowed never to marry. Now he’s back and helping on her father’s farm. And though Lizzie’s unsure she can ever forgive him, she finds their love still lingers. But is Eli finally ready to build a familye with Lizzie...or will he return to his Englisch life?

LEIGH BALE is a Publishers Weekly bestselling author. She is the winner of the prestigious Golden Heart® Award and is a finalist for the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence and the Booksellers’ Best Award. The daughter of a retired US forest ranger, she holds a BA in history. Married in 1981 to the love of her life, Leigh and her professor husband have two children and two grandkids. You can reach her at leighbale.com.

Also By Leigh Bale

Colorado Amish Courtships

Runaway Amish Bride

His Amish Choice

Men of Wildfire

Her Firefighter Hero

Wildfire Sweethearts

Reunited by a Secret Child

The Road to Forgiveness

The Forest Ranger’s Promise

The Forest Ranger’s Husband

The Forest Ranger’s Child

Falling for the Forest Ranger

Healing the Forest Ranger

The Forest Ranger’s Return

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

His Amish Choice

Leigh Bale

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08637-0

HIS AMISH CHOICE

© 2018 Lora Lee Bale

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“I’m here to stay, Lizzie-bee,” Eli said.

“Don’t call me that.” Lizzie’s lips pursed with disapproval and tears shimmered in her eyes.

Lizzie-bee.

He held perfectly still, wishing he hadn’t used his pet name for her. It had slipped out. How he wished he could go back in time and mend the rift between them. That they could be friends again.

“You are welcome here on our farm, Eli Stoltzfus, but don’t expect anything else. I don’t trust you anymore and that’s that.” She whirled around and headed toward the house, plodding over the wide furrows of alfalfa with singular purpose.

I don’t trust you anymore.

Her words rang in his ears like the tolling of a bell. He watched her go, his heart plummeting. More than anything, he longed for a friend to confide in. But it obviously wouldn’t be Lizzie. Not only had he lost her friendship, but he’d also lost her confidence and there was no going back.

Dear Reader,

Have you ever loved someone so much that their happiness was more important than your own? In His Amish Choice, Lizzie is angry and hurt when Eli abandons her and their Amish faith so he can receive an education in the Englisch world. But when she realizes that anger is not of the Lord, she softens her heart and is finally able to let go of the anguish and sorrow that has been troubling her for several years. She is then able to recognize that she loves Eli so much that she is willing to let him go, if that is what he wants. No longer are her own feelings and desires of utmost importance, but rather she has learned to put Eli and his needs above her own.

I know that, as we come to accept God’s will in our own lives, to soften our hearts in prayer, and to follow the Savior’s example, we can find peace and joy no matter what hardships we might face.

I hope you enjoy reading this story and I invite you to visit my website at www.LeighBale.com to learn more about my books.

May you find peace in the Lord’s words!

Leigh Bale

The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God.

—Romans 8:16

Thank you to Janet Pulleyn for infecting me with the soap-making bug. I have had a blast learning and consulting with you on new colors and fragrances. And thanks to Paul for letting me invade your home on more than one occasion. You are dear friends. Now, where shall we go out to dinner next time?

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Elizabeth Beiler set her last crate of honeycrisp apples into the back of the buggy-wagon and took a deep breath. Picking the fruit was hard work but she could never get enough of its fresh, earthy-sweet smell.

Brushing the dust off her rose-colored skirts and black apron, she adjusted the blue kerchief tied beneath her chin. Because she was working outside, she’d left her white organza kapp at home. She arched her back, her gaze scanning the rows of apple trees.

Finally, they were finished. Not that Lizzie begrudged the work. It brought her a sense of accomplishment and security. She was just tired and feeling jittery with Eli Stoltzfus’s constant presence.

At that moment, he emerged from the orchard, carrying two heavy crates of fruit in his strong arms. His blue chambray shirt stretched taut across his muscular chest and arms. His plain broadfall trousers and work boots had dust on them. Wearing a straw hat and black suspenders, he looked unmistakably Amish. His clean-shaven face attested that he was unmarried. Lizzie was dying to ask if he’d had any girlfriends during the four years he’d been living among the Englisch, but kept her questions to herself. It wasn’t her business after all. Not anymore.

His high cheekbones and blunt chin gave him a slightly stubborn look. With hair black as a raven’s wing and gentle brown eyes, he was ruggedly handsome. Not that Lizzie also was interested. Not in this man. Not ever again.

As he approached, she turned away, conscious of his quiet gaze following her. She often found him watching her, his intelligent eyes warning that there was an active, gifted mind hidden beneath his calm exterior.

“Come on, Marty and Annie. It’s time to go home,” she called to her two sisters in Deitsch, the German dialect her Amish people used among themselves.

The girls came running, the long ribbons on their prayer kapps dangling in the wind. At the ages of ten and seven, neither girl was big or strong, but they were sturdy and a tremendous help on the farm. Their happy chatter also alleviated Daed’s quiet moods. He hadn’t been the same since Mamm died almost five years earlier. The union of Lizzie’s parents had been one of love. The perfect kind of marriage she had once dreamed of having with Eli.

“What are we having for nachtesse?” seven-year-old Annie asked, slightly breathless from her run.

“Ja, I’m starved.” Marty was right behind her, biting into a crisp, juicy apple from the orchard.

“I’m going to make slumgullion,” Lizzie said, thinking the meat and pasta dish was easy to make and very filling. “And we’ve also got leftover apple crisp from yesterday.”

She was conscious of Eli adjusting the crates of apples in the back of their buggy-wagon, no doubt listening to their conversation. He must be ravenous too, but he would eat at home with his parents.

“Yum! I’m so hungry I could eat Billie.” Annie leaned toward the bay gelding and made gobbling sounds. The gentle animal snorted and waved his head. Everyone except Marty laughed.

“You couldn’t eat Billie. He’s a horse. Don’t be dumm,” Marty said.

“No calling names, please. Be nice to your sister,” Lizzie reprimanded in a kind voice. “As soon as Daed gets here, we’ll go home.”

They didn’t have long to wait. Jeremiah Beiler emerged from the orchard, walking with their Englisch truck driver. Daed’s straw hat was pushed back on his head. Sweat-dampened tendrils of salt-and-pepper hair stuck to his high forehead. Dressed almost identically to Eli, Daed’s long beard was a light reddish shade with no moustache, signifying that he was a married man, now a widower.

The truck driver nodded, said something Lizzie couldn’t hear, then climbed into the cab of his tractor trailer and started up the noisy engine. A rush of relief swept over her. The back of the 18-wheeler was loaded with crates of apples from their orchard and the driver would deliver them safely to the processing plant in Longmont. Their harvest was secure.

Because of Eli.

As the truck pulled away, Daed turned and smiled at them, but frowned when his gaze met Eli’s. Lizzie knew her father didn’t approve of Eli. He feared the younger man’s worldly influence on his children and had hired him only at the bishop’s urging.

“You all did gut work,” Jeremiah said.

Eli gave a slight nod, then went to hitch his horse to his buggy. Lizzie watched him for a moment. Out of the blue, he had returned just over three weeks ago, asking to be reinstated in the Gmay, their Amish community.

If he had been a full member of the church before his decision to live among the Englisch, his choice to leave them would have been seen as a breaking of his faith and he would have been shunned. But because he’d never been baptized into their faith, he’d been welcomed back with open arms, no questions asked. Just a blind acceptance that he really wanted to be here. But Lizzie wasn’t convinced. Eli had broken her heart. Leaving her the day before they were to be baptized together.

When they’d been only fourteen, he’d proposed marriage and she’d accepted. But long before then, he’d whispered about attending college to learn more about science and biology. Their eighth-grade education had never been enough for Eli, yet she had thought he’d made peace with the life they had. The life they’d intended to share. Lizzie hadn’t believed he’d really leave. At least not without saying goodbye.

Annie and Marty beamed at their father’s praise. They all felt a great weight lifted from their shoulders. The warm weather was an illusion. When they’d first settled in Colorado eight years earlier, they hadn’t realized the growing season was much shorter than their previous home in Ohio. A killing frost could strike at any time. With their apples picked, they could now turn their efforts to other pressing matters.

To the south, the alfalfa was ready for cutting. The last of the season. They would store the hay in their barn to feed their own livestock through the long winter. Daed would mow it tomorrow. The weather should hold long enough for the hay to dry, then Lizzie would assist with the baling. Between now and then, she planned to bottle applesauce. They no longer needed Eli’s help and she wouldn’t have to see him every day. Though it wasn’t charitable of her, she counted that as a blessing.

“Komm, my girls. Let’s go,” Daed called.

Annie giggled as her father swung her into the buggy. Marty scrambled inside with Lizzie. Daed gathered the leather leads into his hands and slapped them against Billie’s back, giving a stiff nod of parting to Eli.

“Sehn dich schpeeder,” Eli called as he lifted one hand.

See you later? Lizzie hoped not, then felt guilty for being mean-spirited. The little girls waved goodbye, but not Lizzie. It still hurt her deeply to think that Eli had loved worldly pursuits more than he’d loved their faith and Gott. More than he’d loved her.

“Heemet!” Daed called.

Home! With a cozy barn and hay awaiting him, Billie had plenty of incentive to take off at a brisk walk. The buggy-wagon wobbled as they traveled along the narrow dirt road leading out of the orchard.

Glancing over her shoulder, Lizzie noticed that Eli had his horse hitched up to his buggy and wasn’t far behind them.

When they reached the paved county road, Daed pulled the horse up and looked both ways. A couple of cars whizzed past, spraying them through their open windows with a fine mist of grit. Once it was clear, he proceeded forward, setting the horse into a comfortable trot along the far-right shoulder. Within minutes, they would be home. Marty and Annie leaned against Lizzie and yawned. The gentle rocking of the buggy and the rhythmic beat of hooves lulled Lizzie to close her eyes.

She awoke with a start as the buggy-wagon jerked forward. A sickening crash filled her ears. Apples went flying, peppering the road. Lizzie reached for Marty, but found herself airborne. Bloodcurdling screams split the air. The hard ground slammed up to meet her. Pain burst through her entire body, a lance of agony spearing her head. She cried out, then choked, the air knocked from her lungs. Her brain was spinning, her limbs frozen with stinging shock. One thought filled her mind. Her familye! She had to help them.

Lifting her head, she stared at the remnants of the wood and fiberglass buggy-wagon, strewn across the county road. The fluorescent slow-moving-vehicle symbol that had been affixed to the back of their wagon now lay broken beside her. In a glance, she saw a blue sedan parked nearby, the right front fender smashed in. She blinked as a teenage boy got out of the car, his eyes wide with panic. In his hand, he held his cell phone. Had he been texting while driving?

Lying below Lizzie in the ditch, Billie snorted and thrashed in his harness. Giving a shrill whinny, the horse lunged to his feet, the laces hanging limp from his back. The poor beast. At least he didn’t appear to have a broken leg.

Lizzie wiped moisture from her forehead, then gasped when she discovered it was blood. She scanned the road, looking for Daed and her sisters. From her vantage point, she couldn’t see any of them. Her vision swam before her. She couldn’t focus. Falling back, she lay there for a moment, trying to fight off the woozy darkness, but despite her best efforts, it crowded in on her.

When she came to, Lizzie realized she must have fainted. She had no idea how long she’d been out. A rush of memory made her jerk upright, then cry out with anguish. Her entire body hurt, a searing pain in her head. She must get up. Must find her father, Annie and Marty.

“Schtopp! Just rest.” A soft, masculine voice came from above her.

Blinking her eyes, she saw Eli kneeling over her. In a glance, she took in his somber expression filled with concern. He must have come upon them right after the crash.

“Vie gehts?” he asked in a soothing tone roughened by emotion.

“Ja, I’m fine. Marty and Annie. Daed. Help them,” she said.

“They’re all alive. The Englischer has called for help on his cell phone. An ambulance is coming from the hospital in town,” he said.

“Where...where is my familye?” She sat up slowly to look for them, her head whirling from another dizzy spell.

“I didn’t want the girls to see you until I was certain you were all right. They’re very frightened as it is. I’ll bring them to you now.” He stood, looked both ways, then hurried across the road.

He soon returned, holding the hands of her sisters as he crossed the busy road. He hesitated as a car and truck whipped past, swerving to avoid the debris scattered across the asphalt. One of the vehicles stopped and asked if they needed help. The Englisch boy went to speak with the driver.

“Lizzie!” Annie cried.

Both little girls fell into her arms, sobbing and hugging her tight. Cupping their faces with her hands, she looked them over, kissing their scratched cheeks, assuring herself that they were safe. Their faces and arms were covered with abrasions, their dresses soiled, but they otherwise seemed fine.

“There, my liebchen. All will be well,” Lizzie soothed the girls for a moment. Then, she looked at Eli. “But where is my vadder?”

“He cannot be moved just now. He has a serious compound fracture to his lower left leg. I believe his tibia is all that is broken. I have splinted the leg and stopped the bleeding, then wrapped him in a warm blanket I had in my buggy.”

A broken leg! But how did Eli know what to do? A blaze of panic scorched her. They’d already lost Mamm. What would they do if they lost Daed too?

“I must go to him.” She tried to stand.

“Ne, just sit still a moment. There’s too much traffic on the road and you are also hurt. I believe you have a concussion.” Eli held out a hand to stop her.

Lizzie recoiled, fearing he might touch her. How could he know she had a concussion? He wasn’t a doctor. Or was he? She no longer knew much about this man. Was four years long enough for him to go to medical school? She had no knowledge of such things.

She reached up and touched her forehead. A wave of nausea forced her to sit back. When she drew away her hand, fresh blood stained her fingers. No wonder a horrible pain throbbed behind her eyes and her brain felt foggy. Maybe Eli was right.

“May I...may I wrap a cloth around your head? It’s important that we stop the bleeding. I’ve already done all I can for Jeremiah,” Eli said, his voice tentative.

“Ja,” she consented, giving in to common sense.

She sat perfectly still as he removed her blood-soaked kerchief. Her waist-length hair had come undone from the bun at the nape of her neck and she felt embarrassed to have him see its length. It was something special she was keeping for her husband on their wedding night. Thankfully, he politely averted his gaze as he opened the first aid kit.

“Where did that come from?” She pointed at the box.

He answered without looking up. “My buggy.”

“How do you know so much about medical care?”

He shrugged, his gaze briefly meeting hers. “I went through the training and am a certified paramedic. I’m specially trained to help in critical situations like this.”

So, he wasn’t a doctor, but he might as well be. Although she’d heard about Amish paramedics and firefighters working back east in Lancaster County and Pennsylvania, she’d never met one before and was fairly certain her church elders wouldn’t approve. Higher learning was shunned by her people because it often led to Hochmut, the pride of men.

“Is...is that what you’ve been doing among the Englisch?” she asked.

He nodded. “Ja, it’s how I earned my living.”

So now she knew. He must have worked hard in school to learn such a skill. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to know things, but neither did she approve of him casting aside his faith for such worldly pursuits.

Eli cleansed her wound with an antiseptic towelette. His touch was warm and gentle as he wrapped her head with soft, white gauze.

“You will need three or four stitches in the gash.” He gave her a soulful look, as if he could see deep inside her heart and knew all the hurt and longings she kept hidden there.

She looked away.

Sirens heralded the arrival of two ambulances and some police cars. Lizzie lost track of time as the officers set up a roadblock with flares and took their statements. She watched Eli untangle the harness and lead Billie out of the ditch. Speaking to the distressed horse in a low murmur, he smoothed his hands over the animal’s trembling legs. He then salvaged the bruised apples and put the filled crates into his own buggy.

When the medics loaded them into the two ambulances, Annie leaned close against Lizzie’s side, her eyes red from crying. “Is Daedi going to be all right?”

Lizzie reached over and took the child’s hand. “The Lord’s will be done, boppli. We must trust in Him to get us through.”

As she spoke these words, she tried to believe them. If Daed died, could she forgive the boy who had caused the accident? Christ had forgiven all and she must do likewise, but she wasn’t sure her faith was that strong.

“I’ll look after Billie.” Eli stood at the foot of the ambulance, holding the lead lines to the horse’s halter. His expressive eyes were filled with a haunting unease, as though he were anxious to leave.

“Danke.” Lizzie gave a brisk nod.

He stepped back and the medics closed the double doors. Lizzie laid her head back and closed her eyes. And in her heart, she carried a silent prayer that they would be all right.