- -
- 100%
- +
Fixing a family isn’t what she signed up for…
Patching hearts wasn’t the plan… But this father and daughter need her help.
Overseeing kitchen volunteers while the community rebuilds after a flood, Abby Kauffman doesn’t expect to get in between Englischer David Riehl and the orphaned teenager he’s raising. But Abby can tell David is struggling, and she’s determined to help him bond with the girl. Might Abby be the missing ingredient to bring this makeshift family together for Easter?
JO ANN BROWN has always loved stories with happily-ever-after endings. A former military officer, she is thrilled to have the chance to write stories about people falling in love. She is also a photographer and travels with her husband of more than thirty years to places where she can snap pictures. They have three children and live in Florida. Drop her a note at joannbrownbooks.com.
Also By Jo Ann Brown
Green Mountain Blessings
An Amish Christmas Promise
An Amish Easter Wish
Amish Spinster Club
The Amish Suitor
The Amish Christmas Cowboy
The Amish Bachelor’s Baby
The Amish Widower’s Twins
Amish Hearts
Amish Homecoming
An Amish Match
His Amish Sweetheart
An Amish Reunion
A Ready-Made Amish Family
An Amish Proposal
An Amish Arrangement
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
An Amish Easter Wish
Jo Ann Brown
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-0-008-90662-7
AN AMISH EASTER WISH
© 2020 Jo Ann Ferguson
Published in Great Britain 2020
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 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.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk
This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:
Change of font size and line height
Change of background and font colours
Change of font
Change justification
Text to speech
“Let’s start our work together with our first rule.”
“What’s that?” Abby asked.
“Honesty. If I don’t understand something you say, I’ll ask you. You do the same with me.”
“I like that rule.”
“Good. Now, what should be our next rule?”
“We make this fun for the teens and for ourselves. If we act as if this is drudgery, the kids will sense it, and we’ll lose our chance to help them.”
“Fun?” David arched his brows as if responding to something he’d heard in his head, then sighed. “That may be harder for me to follow than the first rule. Nobody’s ever described me as fun. In fact, the opposite.”
“Well, then we’ll have to see how we can change that, ain’t so?”
He gave her the faintest grin, but she took it as a victory. As they continued to talk about possible activities for the youngsters, she couldn’t doubt he cared about his daughter and her friends. He was a man of strong emotions, though he tried to hide that fact. She couldn’t help wondering why.
Dear Reader,
When something momentous happens, our lives can feel as if they’re tumbling out of control. For David Riehl, his search for the truth brought him answers he never expected. He has to depend on faith to get his feet under himself again. He has good examples in front of him as his neighbors face uncertainty in the wake of the flood.
The Mennonite Disaster Service is a real organization that was established seventy years ago when a group of young people wanted to help others. MDS volunteers, who are both plain and Englisch, come primarily from the US and Canada and have helped rebuild homes and lives after disasters, usually weather-related or due to wildfires.
Visit me at www.joannbrownbooks.com. Look for my next book, again set in Evergreen Corners, Vermont, coming this summer.
Wishing you many blessings,
Jo Ann Brown
Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.
—Matthew 5:16
For Justin and Mikayla, who are writing a beautiful love story of their own.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
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
Epilogue
Extract
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Evergreen Corners, Vermont
“Is he here yet?” Abby Kauffman called.
The freezer couldn’t have picked a worse time to stop working. Supper must be served in three hours, and nothing was started. Worse, tonight was supposed to be a festive gathering for the local teen volunteers and their families, as well as those from Amish Helping Hands who’d come to help rebuild the small town.
Abby scanned the list of food stored in the freezer and sighed. It might not be an accurate list because she and the other volunteers working in the community center’s kitchen had made it from memory. Nobody wanted to lift the top of the chest freezer and peer inside to count the boxes of meat and frozen vegetables and tomato sauce. A specific inventory wasn’t necessary. With hundreds of dollars of donated food inside the freezer, every minute counted.
She went to the wide pass-through window from the kitchen to the main room of the community center. A trio of young people were lounging among the collection of mismatched tables and chairs where the volunteers had their meals. She’d lost count of the number of breakfasts, lunches and suppers they’d served since the October flood five months ago had washed away houses and businesses along Washboard Brook and damaged more buildings farther from its banks.
So tonight, in addition to the ten to fifteen volunteers who needed to be fed at each meal, there would be almost twice that number joining them for a roast beef dinner with the fixings. The meat had been thawed, but the volunteers’ favorite part of the meal—the pies—were in the freezer. Digging through the containers inside to find the unbaked pies would mean allowing precious cold air to escape, threatening the rest of the food stored in the chest freezer.
Where was the repairman? She’d found his name on a list in the community center office and called. He’d said he’d be there as soon as he could, and that had been almost two hours ago.
She put her hands on the counter and looked toward the door. When she hit her head on the pass-through, she grimaced and rubbed her heart-shaped white kapp. She was only a few inches over five feet tall, so she wasn’t used to having to duck. One of these days, she was going to remember how low the top of the window was and stop bumping her head on it.
How she wished she could be more like her older brother! Isaac never overlooked a single detail about anything. She’d heard one of the residents of their small Vermont town, far to the north of Evergreen Corners, describe her brother as having a laser focus. She couldn’t agree more. When Isaac was involved, nobody had to worry about the smallest item being forgotten.
Isaac was at home on the family farm, and she was working in the community center kitchen in Evergreen Corners for at least the next six weeks. If needed, she would stay on, though that might not make her family happy. She couldn’t walk away when people needed her here. Since her daed had recently remarried, she no longer had to take care of the household as she’d done since her mamm’s death almost twenty years ago. Her stepmother, Lovina, was a skilled cook and housekeeper who could handle everything on her own.
And, more important, in Evergreen Corners, Abby could avoid anyone who reminded her of the worst days of her life, days after her selfishness almost caused a young man’s death. Busying herself with work allowed her to pay forward to others the blessing she’d been given, a blessed reprieve when the young man recovered. She kept on working, day after day, because she couldn’t forget her guilt about how her foolish decision had nearly led to tragedy.
“Is he here yet?” Abby called again as she came out into the main room.
As if on cue, the outside door opened. A man she didn’t know stepped in. Seeing he carried a battered metal toolbox, she opened her mouth to tell him to hurry to the kitchen and check the freezer before the food began to defrost, but no sound emerged as she stared.
He moved with the ease of a man who was comfortable with his long limbs. His shoulders were muscular beneath his unzipped coat. Black hair was ruffled by the cap he’d removed as he’d entered, and a single curl dropped across his forehead toward his full eyebrows. His eyes, as brilliant blue as a spring sky, looked around the room.
“Are you the repairman?” Abby managed to ask before his gaze reached her. She scolded herself for reacting like a hormonal teenager at the sight of a gut-looking man.
And an Englischer at that!
Isaac would be more than annoyed if he heard she was gawking at an Englischer with her mouth open like a fish pulled from a pond.
The man glanced her way. He took note of her plain clothes and kapp, and his assertive brows lowered in a frown. However, his voice, as he spoke, was a pleasant baritone. “I’m David Riehl.” He crossed the room and held out a business card with words and logo to match the ones embroidered on his coat. “Riehl’s Appliance Repair.”
Startled how her fingers trembled as she reached for the card, Abby nodded. Again, she didn’t trust her voice. She stored the card in the pocket of the black apron covering her dark green dress and motioned toward the kitchen. She walked in that direction, aware with every molecule how David followed a few paces behind her.
As they entered the kitchen, voices burst out behind her. Had the teenagers waiting to hear where they were working today gone silent when David entered, or had she been so focused on the handsome man that her other senses had stopped working?
Abby gave her thoughts a gut shake. She should be thinking of one thing: getting the freezer fixed. She stepped aside as he put his toolbox on the floor and walked around the freezer that sat in ominous silence. When he asked about the brand and model number, she answered, glad he hadn’t yanked up the top to look.
Her shoulders eased from their taut line. David Riehl of Riehl’s Appliance Repair knew what he was doing. Sending up a quick prayer of thanks, she watched as he put his hand on the freezer. She guessed he was searching for any vibration to give him a clue why the freezer wasn’t working.
“When did you notice a problem?” he asked, not looking at her.
“It was running this morning. Then the compressor stopped, and it didn’t start again.”
“That could be caused by a few things, but let’s look at the obvious ones first.” He pulled a small flashlight from beneath his coat and switched it on. “I’ll check the evaporator coils first. Dust and dirt get on them. It’s almost like you’re suffocating the unit because moisture can’t evaporate. That may keep the compressor from starting.”
“Our kitchen is clean.”
He arched his brows before squatting to peer behind the freezer. “Even the best housekeepers forget to keep the coils clean.”
“Or sweep under the refrigerator.”
“Exactly.” He tilted his head and glanced at her with a cool smile. “I don’t mean to insult you or any of the volunteers. We appreciate you coming here to help.” He shifted the flashlight to examine the freezer from another angle. “Looks pretty dust-free.”
Straightening, he moved around to the other side and reached to pull the plug out of its outlet.
“Must you unplug it?” Abby asked.
“If I don’t want to get zapped, yes.” When he smiled this time, it wasn’t as icy as the interior of the freezer should have been. She wouldn’t describe his expression as warm, but at least it seemed genuine. “Don’t worry. It won’t take long to do a diagnostic on the freezer, and you said when you called the shop the contents are tightly packed. That should keep them cold far longer than you expect.”
“I hope so.”
When David didn’t answer but bent to unscrew an access panel on the side of the freezer, Abby knew she was in the way. He didn’t need her standing behind him, watching everything he did.
She went to the two stoves and turned the ovens to 325 degrees. The beef roasts cooked in aluminum foil at a low temperature, giving the juices time to mix with onion soup mix and mushrooms to flavor the roast. On the table, four pans she’d lined with foil waited. Putting meat in each pan, she began to slice the mushrooms she’d washed before she realized the freezer was silent. She’d taken packets of onion soup mix from the pantry and was opening them when David spoke.
“Looks like you’ve got a bad thermostat.” He put an electronic tester in his toolbox. Standing, he added, “I brought one along because that’s a pretty common problem with older chest freezers.”
“Is it quick to fix?” She sprinkled the mix over the meat and mushrooms.
He nodded. “Your freezer should be working in about fifteen minutes. I’ll be right back.”
“Thank the gut Lord,” she breathed with relief as he left. When was the last time she’d taken a complete breath? Since the freezer had stopped working? Since David had walked through the door?
She was startled by that thought. He was an Englischer and terse almost to the point of being rude. Because he was easy on the eyes didn’t mean she should see him as anyone other than skilled hands to get the freezer working again. She was glad she wasn’t watching the door when it opened and his strong, assertive footsteps crossed the tiled floor.
He didn’t say anything as he went to the freezer and knelt beside it. His broad hands navigated the small space afforded by the access panel as he removed the useless thermostat.
Abby averted her gaze again. She shouldn’t be studying each of his motions, though she was fascinated by his knowledge of how the wires should be handled. Now wasn’t the time to ask her usual questions about the way things worked.
The front door opened again and a cacophony of footsteps burst into the community room.
She smiled, knowing more of the teenage volunteers had arrived. On any day, about a half dozen boys and girls offered their time to assist the adult volunteers. She knew they wished they could climb on rafters to raise roofs or use the excavation machinery. However, the policies of Amish Helping Hands and the Mennonite Disaster Service and other organizations limited the teens to working on the ground. They could climb a ladder to paint a ceiling, but nothing more dangerous.
“Hey, what’s going on?” asked Jack Gundersen as he stretched through the pass-through window to peer into the kitchen. The teen, who’d been one of the first to ask to help with rebuilding houses swept away by the flood, hadn’t lost his enthusiasm in spite of weeks of hard work. He and his best friend, Reece Maddox, put in several hours of work each day after school and on Saturdays.
Abby smiled at the boys. Anyone looking at them might dismiss them as trouble because of their tattoos and cropped hair, but she’d come to see they had generous hearts. She didn’t understand why anyone would ink their arms with identical verses from Proverbs 17, as the boys had done. Yet she admired their faith and friendship that had led them to put the words A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity on the insides of their forearms.
“Something went wrong with the freezer,” she said in answer to Jack’s question. “The thermostat. It’s getting fixed by—”
“Hi, Mr. Riehl!” called Reece, leaning next to his friend on the counter. “Anything we can do to help?”
“Just finishing,” David said without looking at them. “But thanks.”
“Are you and Mikayla coming tonight?” Jack asked.
Abby looked from the boys to the man kneeling by the freezer. She knew only one girl by that name. Mikayla St. Pierre was the newest teen volunteer, a pretty, quiet girl who liked to work alone. Someone had told Abby the thirteen-year-old was an orphan after her sole surviving parent, her daed, had died in a car accident and she now lived with a guardian. Was David Riehl the one who’d taken her in? Maybe there was more to him than the curt man who looked at her as if she’d come from another planet.
David reached into the freezer, his face turned away. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”
“The volunteer supper.” Jack grinned. “Roast beef and the fixings.”
“And desserts.” Reece’s smile was broader than his friend’s. “Lots and lots of yummy desserts. Isn’t that right, Abby?”
She heard an odd sound behind her. Turning, she discovered David regarding her with a strange expression. She wasn’t sure if he was upset or surprised or something else.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
Instead of answering her, he asked a question of his own, “You are Abby?”
“Ja.” When he continued to stare with indecipherable emotion glowing in his eyes, she hurried to add, “Es dutt mir leed.” She flushed anew, not wanting to admit his presence had unsettled her enough to forget to speak in English. “I mean, I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself when you arrived. I was in a hurry to get the freezer fixed. Is it all right now?”
Again, he acted as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d spoken. “You are Abby? Abby Kauffman?”
Concerned by his odd behavior, she wasn’t sure what might be wrong with him. Moments ago he’d acted curt but polite, as she’d expected a busy repairman to act. Now he was gawking at her as if she’d grown a second head. What had she said to cause him to react as he was?
She couldn’t halt herself from asking, “Are you all right, David?”
No, I’m not.
David Riehl was glad the woman standing between him and the door into the main room couldn’t read his mind. Or maybe it didn’t matter because his thoughts were so jumbled he didn’t know how to sort them out.
Abby Kauffman—the Abby Kauffman whom Mikayla had mentioned over and over—was Amish? He’d assumed… He wasn’t sure what he’d assumed, but he’d never guessed the name belonged to an Amish woman.
There was no doubt she lived a plain life. Her shimmering blond hair was pulled into a tight coil beneath a heart-shaped organdy head covering.
A kapp, whispered a memory from the depths of his mind. He couldn’t remember what the pinafore-type apron was called. The color of her dress reminded him of pine needles, and her eyes were the color of a tree-covered mountain on a foggy day. Not quite green and not quite gray.
He shouldn’t be staring at her, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away. There was something undefinable about her that drew his eyes. Something more than her pretty features or her plain dress. He couldn’t figure out what it was and, for a man who spent his life getting to the bottom of problems, not being able to put his finger on what intrigued him was unsettling.
David mumbled under his breath, hoping she’d think he was impatient to install the new thermostat. His fingers were clumsy because knowing Mikayla’s Abby was Amish bothered him more than he’d guessed. He tried to concentrate on his task. It was almost impossible because his thoughts flew in every possible direction.
As they had too often since the night ten months ago when he’d gotten the call that Boyd St. Pierre, his best friend since they’d gone to Evergreen Corners High School together and a single parent after his wife died in childbirth, was dead. A slick mountain road, a careless driver and a ten-car pileup left four people dead and twice that many injured. Mikayla hadn’t been hurt other than bruises and blackened eyes from the airbag.
David had had the air knocked out of him almost as hard by the shock of discovering Boyd had named him Mikayla’s guardian. What did a bachelor who was an only child know about raising a thirteen-year-old girl?
At first, the necessary flurry of a funeral and settling his friend’s estate and handling insurance claims had kept him too busy to think, but in the past couple of months, the pace had slowed to something similar to normal. He’d come to realize, though, he had no idea how to be a parent to a teenager.
Mikayla didn’t talk much, but on the few occasions she did, almost every comment contained Abby’s name. When she’d joined the other young people from their community church in volunteering, he’d been glad to see her spending time with people her age. However, he couldn’t remember more than a handful of times when she’d mentioned any of the teens by name.