Her Amish Holiday Suitor

A serious maedel. A carefree bachelor...

And a Christmas Amish Country Courtships surprise!

Lucy Knepp has no time for heartbreaker Nick Burkholder…until a pretend courtship means she can finish her embroidery for a Christmas fund-raiser in peace. Nick’s arrangement with the too-reserved Lucy is the perfect cover while he repairs the cabin his brother damaged. But once Nick sees how vibrant Lucy really is, can he prove himself—and show their love is for all seasons?

CARRIE LIGHTE lives in Massachusetts next door to a Mennonite farming family, and she frequently spots deer, foxes, fisher cats, coyotes and turkeys in her backyard. Having enjoyed traveling to several Amish communities in the eastern United States, she looks forward to visiting settlements in the western states and in Canada. When she’s not reading, writing or researching, Carrie likes to hike, kayak, bake and play word games.

Also By Carrie Lighte

Amish Country Courtships

Amish Triplets for Christmas

Anna’s Forgotten Fiancé

An Amish Holiday Wedding

Minding the Amish Baby

Her New Amish Family

Her Amish Holiday Suitor

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Her Amish Holiday Suitor

Carrie Lighte

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09751-2

HER AMISH HOLIDAY SUITOR

© 2019 Carrie Lighte

Published in Great Britain 2019

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.

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“I really am sorry, Lucy,” Nick said softly.

When Lucy finally stopped crying, she asked, “May I use your handkerchief, please?”

“You can use my scarf. I don’t mind.”

The offer to use Nick’s scarf to dry her eyes and blow her nose was so ridiculous and sweet it caused Lucy to chuckle. “Neh, that’s okay,” she said, removing her mittens to dab her tears.

“I’m sorry I treated you that way. I didn’t mean to. I care about you, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. I especially wouldn’t want to play a role in hurting you.”

Lucy was overwhelmed. No man had ever said anything like that to her before, even in friendship. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “And I do appreciate that you care. But I’m not as fragile as you think I am.”

“Fragile? You? I don’t think you’re fragile at all,” Nick scoffed. “I think you’re one of the most resilient women I’ve ever known.”

Lucy was overwhelmed again. If this kept up, she was going to fall hard for Nick Burkholder. Maybe she already had...

Dear Reader,

When I was around Lucy’s age, I was sometimes drawn to gregarious, charming men like Nick, who in many ways were a contrast to my reserved, introverted personality. Then I went through a phase where I deliberately avoided that type of man at all costs. Like Lucy and Nick, I eventually realized I couldn’t judge a book by its cover one way or the other; I had to get to know the person—and vice versa—on more than a superficial level before determining whether or not to develop a relationship.

Similarly, I’m reminded of Isaiah 53:2, which indicates there was no comeliness about Christ that we would be drawn to Him. Whether that refers to His physical appearance, lineage, societal status or something else, I’m not certain. But I do know He wasn’t anything like people expected. Discovering who He is and how much He loves me is the most rewarding joy of my life, as I hope it is for you, too.

Blessings,

Carrie Lighte

For the Lord seeth not as man seeth;

for man looketh on the outward appearance,

but the Lord looketh on the heart.

—1 Samuel 16:7

For the readers who have followed

my Amish Country Courtships series,

with much gratitude for your interest

and best wishes for your lives.

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

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“You did what?” Nick Burkholder asked as he guided his horse along the dark, winding country roads of Willow Creek, Pennsylvania. It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and he and his brother were on their way to a singing at Frederick Stutzman’s house. Their plan was to make a brief appearance and then leave to hang out with Nick’s Amish friends from Elmsville at an eatery in Highland Springs.

“On Friday night I, uh, sort of started a fire in Jenny Nelson’s cabin,” seventeen-year-old Kevin repeated, referring to the vacation house of an Englisch acquaintance.

The redheaded brothers were known for kidding around, so Nick assumed Kevin was joking. “Oh, I get it. You mean you started a fire in their fireplace. You sounded so serious you had me going for a minute there. Voll schpass.”

“I wish it were very funny,” Kevin replied, using the Englisch term for voll schpass. It seemed to Nick his brother had picked up more Englisch phrases and habits during the first six months of his rumspringa than Nick had learned during the entirety of his own five-year running around period.

Kevin’s voice was somber as he continued. “I mean, jah, initially I was trying to start a fire in the fireplace, but one of the newspaper logs I rolled must have—”

“Kevin!” Nick cut him off. “You should know better than to use newspaper logs after all the warnings Daed’s given you!”

“I just thought—”

“Neh, that’s just the problem. You didn’t think at all,” Nick retorted, ironically using the same words his father often used when lecturing him. He brought the buggy to a standstill at the side of the road and turned to face Kevin. “Please tell me no one was injured.”

“Neh. But there was a little superficial damage to the walls and ceiling.”

Kevin proceeded to tell Nick he must have been distracted by the other guests summoning him into the kitchen to eat, because he forgot to close the protective mesh screen on the fireplace. He reckoned when someone opened the door to the cabin it created a back draft, and ash from the dry newspaper logs was swept through the air, because the next thing anyone knew, a pair of window curtains caught fire. The flames quickly leaped to a dried floral wreath hanging on the wall nearby, and before Jenny could retrieve the extinguisher, the wood paneling and ceiling had been burned, too.

Nick’s mind was reeling, and he could hardly focus on the additional details Kevin provided about the mishap. If only Nick had attended the party with him, the fire probably wouldn’t have happened. But Nick’s parents had requested Nick stay behind and help take inventory at the hardware store his father owned.

“You just went out on Wednesday night. You’re too old to be gallivanting around at every opportunity,” his mother had said in a tone that indicated she meant business. “Your daed needs your help organizing and stocking up on specialty products the Englisch buy for Grischtdaag. Friday evening is the only opportunity he has.”

Nick couldn’t refuse. At twenty-one, he’d stretched out his rumspringa longer than almost anyone in his church district, which was a point of contention between his parents and him. They strongly implied if he didn’t decide to join the church soon, he’d have to move out on his own. While he wouldn’t be shunned, it would be disgracing for the entire family if he lived apart from them but stayed in the Amish community without being baptized into the church.

The choice should have been an easy one, and deep down, Nick had already made up his mind. He loved God, he loved being Amish and he loved his community. By now he knew that although some aspects of Englisch life were appealing, he had no desire to “go Englisch” for good. But he was also keenly aware that as long as he didn’t join the church, he wouldn’t be permitted to marry an Amish woman. And although he had courted most of the eligible young women in Willow Creek, as well as several from the Elmsville district, he hadn’t met anyone he considered compatible enough to marry. Apparently, the same wasn’t true for how the women felt about him; when he inevitably broke up with them, the women often expressed deep disappointment. Worse, they cried as if there were no tomorrow, no matter how gentle or diplomatic he tried to be about ending their courtship.

To Nick it seemed the women he courted didn’t really care whether they were compatible with him. It was as if they were more interested in being married than being in a marriage relationship. Granted, there was no mandate requiring Nick to get married once he joined the church, but it was generally expected. Once he was baptized, the pressure—especially from his mother—would really kick in. So, by prolonging his rumspringa, Nick was securing his bachelorhood just a little longer. Meanwhile, someone new might move to town. After all, a spouse was a gift from the Lord, and who could say when and how the Lord might give him that gift?

Kevin spoke again, jarring Nick from his thoughts. “Jenny said if I pay for the repairs, she’ll hire a contractor and then she won’t have to tell her folks about the fire. So, can you lend me the money? Since we’re passing Jenny’s house on the way to Highland Springs, I sort of promised her I’d let her know tonight.”

“Are you narrish?” Nick asked, calling his brother crazy. “I cleaned out my savings to purchase Penny last spring.”

Penny, named for the color of his coat, was the horse Nick bought from an Amish man who had acquired the animal at a harness racing track. It wasn’t unusual for the Amish to purchase American standardbred horses, which were most commonly used for buggy pulling, and Penny was a particularly fine gelding. Only four years old, he was exceptionally fast and strong, although not quite up to competition speed. As such, he cost more than the four-thousand-dollar limit most of Willow Creek’s Amish spent on a horse, but Nick had saved for years. When he took Penny out for a test run, he immediately knew the swift, powerful, high-spirited animal was exactly what he wanted.

The cost was another point of contention between him and his parents, who thought it was foolish to splurge when an older, less expensive standardbred would have served his transportation needs adequately for years to come. His parents thought the purchase was prideful, but Nick wasn’t seeking admiration; it was the speed and agility the horse provided that drew Nick to him. True, Penny could only safely run so fast when he was hitched to the buggy, but Nick had made adjustments to streamline his buggy, too. Those adjustments had cost him every last cent he had, and he reiterated that he was in no position to help his brother financially.

“Oh.” In the dim light, Nick saw Kevin’s features droop as he lifted his hat and swiped at his forehead. “I guess I’m going to have to tell Daed then.”

“That’s not a gut idea. You know how concerned he’s been about finances ever since Harper’s Hardware opened across town. And you know how worried Mamm is about his blood pressure and stress levels.”

Kevin shrugged. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Nick rubbed his forehead. He didn’t know what else to do, either, but telling their father was the last thing he could allow. Not only was he concerned about adding to his parents’ burdens, but somehow Nick knew he’d get blamed for introducing Kevin to a group of “wild Englischers”—even if they were all very respectable Christians and the fire was solely Kevin’s fault. Undoubtedly, his father would be so angry about Kevin’s carelessness that he’d finally put his foot down about Nick’s rumspringa coming to an end, too. Nick couldn’t let that happen.

“Give me a minute. I’ll think of something,” he said.

Twenty-year-old Lucy Knepp dawdled in the kitchen, drying the last pot. Usually the Amish didn’t eat a large supper on the Sabbath, but there were so many leftovers from Thanksgiving they had dirtied half a dozen pans reheating the food. Lucy’s stepsisters, Mildred and Katura, stepped into the kitchen just as she was hanging up the dishcloth.

“There you are.” Mildred sounded triumphant, as if it were unusual to find Lucy cleaning up after supper.

Actually, Lucy did the majority of the housework, cooking and baking for her family. Born eight weeks prematurely, she had suffered respiratory problems since birth, which prevented her from helping with yard work, gardening and cleaning the stable, so she tried to make up for it by taking on more chores inside their home.

“You must kumme with us to Frederick’s haus for the singing. We’re also going to plan our Grischtdaag caroling rehearsal schedule,” Katura announced.

Lucy didn’t want to go with them. For one thing, Frederick had passed several notes to her at previous singings, a sure sign he was preparing to ask to be her suitor. Even though she’d tactfully but distinctly ignored his pursuit, his interest hadn’t waned. Frederick was a nice enough young man, but Lucy had no interest in being courted by him. She had no interest in being courted by any of the single men in Willow Creek, for that matter. By and large they seemed too rambunctious and unreliable for her to imagine ever becoming a wife to one of them.

Likewise, Lucy had long ago accepted that she wasn’t the kind of vibrant, vivacious woman most Willow Creek boys would want to court. With the exception of Frederick, who probably liked her because she was the only eligible woman who was shorter than he was—not to mention that his rather aggressive mother was especially fond of Lucy. Lucy had overheard enough comments to understand the bachelors in Willow Creek considered her personality to be dull. She realized her physical appearance didn’t appeal to the men her age, either. She had plain brown eyes and ordinary brown hair. Her only distinctive features were her glasses—which earned her the nickname “Bug Eyes” in school—and her petite size, which made it even easier for young men to overlook her.

“You go ahead without me,” Lucy suggested to her stepsisters. “I’ll stay and help Betty clean up.” Lucy had never known her own mother, who had died in childbirth, but in the five years since Betty had become her stepmother, Lucy still couldn’t bring herself to call Betty “Mamm,” and she was glad when Betty didn’t insist.

“But everything is cleaned and put away already. And you know Mamm won’t let us go unless you kumme, too.”

She was right. Even though Mildred was eighteen and Katura was the same age as Lucy, Betty was likely to prohibit her daughters from going out unless Lucy went with them. Sunday evening singings were intended to be a time of fellowship and fun for young people, but Lucy noticed the majority of Willow Creek’s singles only went to the singings so they’d have an excuse to get out of their houses. They’d make a brief showing at the host house, where they participated in a few songs, and then they’d pair up to take off for parties or wherever it was they went.

Half the time Lucy brought a book so she could slip away to a corner to read. She frequently returned home without either Mildred or Katura, who would sneak off before she realized they had ditched her. By that time, her father and Betty were usually asleep, and the next day Lucy never mentioned where her sisters had gone.

“But I was planning to work on an embroidery project,” Lucy objected.

“Work isn’t permitted on the Sabbath,” Katura scolded, as if Lucy weren’t always meticulous about following the rules of her district’s Ordnung.

With all the patience she could muster, Lucy explained, “This isn’t something I’m going to consign at Schrock’s Shop. It’s the tablecloth-and-napkin set for the charity auction at the Piney Hill Christmas festival.”

Since embroidering was quiet, sedentary work and the project wasn’t for her own financial profit, Lucy felt she could work on the project on the Sabbath in good conscience. Moreover, she needed to work on the project that evening.

Her deadline for completing it was December 21, when the linens would be displayed with other items in a silent auction to benefit the Englisch soup kitchen where she volunteered on Wednesday nights. Interested buyers would have two days to bid on the goods and Lucy and her family planned to attend the festival the evening of the twenty-third, when the highest bid was announced. Last year she’d been sick with pneumonia and wasn’t able to participate in any fundraising events for the soup kitchen. This year the organization was so strapped it couldn’t even afford to repair their commercial oven, and they were counting on Lucy’s contribution to raise at least half the funds they needed.

“Can’t you do that tomorrow? You’re home all day.”

Mildred’s ignorance was insulting; Lucy may have been home all day, but when she wasn’t keeping house her time was spent working on items she consigned at Schrock’s Shop so she could contribute to their family’s living expenses. As it was, Lucy could barely manage to fill the customers’ specialty orders for Christmas. She’d have to keep all unnecessary distractions to a minimum if she was going to complete the auction project on time, too. Unfortunately, she realized her stepsisters would keep wheedling until she gave in, and that in itself would be a distraction.

“Okay,” she agreed. “But you have to take care of unhitching the buggy and stabling the horse when we get home.” The weather was turning cold and she couldn’t afford to get sick.

“Sure. We wouldn’t want you exerting yourself,” Mildred said, and Lucy didn’t know if she was being sarcastic or sincere.

“Mamm! We’re leaving now,” Katura called after the trio bundled into their winter cloaks and donned their gloves. Lucy never understood why Betty didn’t tell her daughters it wasn’t polite to shout in the house. “We’ll be home before midnight.”

Midnight? Lucy didn’t even want to stay past nine, but when she opened her mouth to protest, she quickly closed it again. Arguing would cost her more time. Instead, she said, “I’ll be right back.”

She darted upstairs and grabbed her embroidery materials and carefully placed them in a canvas bag. She figured by midnight she could probably finish embroidering at least one of the napkins—provided she could find a secluded place where no one would interrupt her.

After a few minutes of silence, Nick said, “I’ll talk to Jenny about the damage. Maybe there’s a way I can make the repairs myself.” Having worked with his uncle’s carpentry crew for a year when his uncle was ill, Nick was a better craftsman than Kevin.

“But when?” Kevin questioned. “It’s not a one-day job. You know we won’t get any Saturdays off until after Grischtdaag.” He went on to explain that Jenny’s family was planning a Christmas Eve reunion in the cabin with her ailing grandfather, who was traveling all the way from Spokane, Washington, to celebrate the holiday with them.

“I’ll have to work on it in the evenings then, won’t I?” Nick didn’t try to temper his irritation at his brother.

Kevin snorted. “The store is open late on weeknights until Grischtdaag, too. There’s no way Mamm and Daed will let you get out of helping.”

“Actually, there is. You’re going to insist you can cover for me at the store.”

Kevin’s jaw dropped. “I already told them I want to go caroling this year. If I have to stay late at the store, I’ll miss the rehearsals during the week.”

“Well, unless the money drops from the sky or you suddenly develop expert carpentry skills, you’ll have to tell them you changed your mind,” Nick advised, annoyed that Kevin still didn’t comprehend the sacrifice he was making for him. “Besides, you’re not interested in caroling. You just want to get out of working at night during the week.”

Kevin didn’t deny it. “So what excuse are you going to give Mamm and Daed for going out on weeknights?” he asked.

“Maybe I’ll say I’m joining the carolers.” Even as he suggested the idea, Nick knew it wasn’t plausible. For as many singings as he’d been to, he hardly ever sang. He couldn’t carry a tune and his parents knew it, but because singings were chaperoned, they didn’t discourage him from attending. “Or maybe I’ll tell them I’m courting someone.”