Falling for an Englisher

With dreams of marrying an Old Order Amish man, Leah Yoder plans on raising children in the peaceful Delaware community. But when Mennonite missionary Daniel Brown arrives to share his story with their church, Leah is fascinated by him. She spends time with Daniel in a forbidden courtship to learn how she truly feels about him. Before long, Leah has a choice to make. Should she stay with her community...or leave with the man she believes God has placed in her life’s path?

“You’re Daniel Brown, the hero who saved that boy from the mob?”

“Hardly a hero,” Daniel said.

“I didn’t know…” Leah hesitated. “Now I feel foolish. I spent so much time with you tonight and I never asked you about your travels. I really feel foolish.”

“Don’t. It was a natural mistake.” He struggled to find the right thing to say. He didn’t want her to walk away feeling embarrassed. “I’ll be looking for you—at the presentation. I hope you aren’t disappointed.”

“No,” Leah said. “You couldn’t disappoint anyone, Daniel Brown. Least of all, me.”

“I’ll see you there, then?”

“Leah?” A woman called from the porch. “Are you ready?”

“Ya,” she answered. “Coming.” She smiled at him. “I’m glad you were with me tonight.”

“Me, too.”

“What you said before…” she murmured shyly. “I agree. We made a good team.”

“We did,” he said. And then, without another word, she turned and hurried off, leaving him standing there, staring after her and wishing she wasn’t going.

EMMA MILLER

lives quietly in her old farmhouse in rural Delaware amid fertile fields and lush woodlands. Fortunate enough to be born into a family of strong faith, she grew up on a dairy farm, surrounded by loving parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Emma was educated in local schools, and once taught in an Amish schoolhouse much like the one at Seven Poplars. When she’s not caring for her large family, reading and writing are her favorite pastimes.

Leah’s Choice
Emma Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Do not press me to leave you

Or to turn back from following you!

Where you go, I will go;

Where you lodge, I will lodge;

Your people shall be my people.

And your God my God.

—Ruth 1:16

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

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Kent County, Delaware, Spring

More than forty people, Mennonite and Amish, waited in the old Grange building for the speaker’s arrival. A long table covered with photographs and maps stood at the rear of the hall, and volunteers had arranged folding chairs in two sections, one on either side of a central aisle. Leah Yoder, three of her sisters, her brother-in-law, and nine giggling and whispering Amish teenagers from Seven Poplars filled the first two rows on the left.

It was rare for Old Order Amish to attend events hosted by other denominations, but tonight was an exception. Leah’s older sister, Miriam, and her husband, Charley, had volunteered to chaperone the outing for their church’s youth group, the Gleaners, and the bishop had given them special permission to do so. Leah, at twenty, was too old for the Gleaners, but she had been just as eager as her younger sisters, Rebecca and Susanna, to see the PowerPoint presentation and hear the Mennonite missionary share his experiences in spreading God’s word outside the United States.

A young man in jeans and a raincoat, carrying a briefcase and a camera, wandered in from the offices in the back, and Leah thought that he might be the speaker, but it was only a reporter from a local newspaper. She hoped that he wouldn’t attempt to take photos of the audience. Having pictures taken was against Amish beliefs, and if he tried to snap their picture, Charley and Miriam might decide that it was better to leave. To Leah’s relief, the man found a seat near the front and didn’t even look across the aisle at them.

The program had been scheduled to start at seven, but it was already twenty past the hour and Susanna was growing restless. Susanna had been born with Down syndrome, and although she was eighteen, in many ways, she would always be a child. Leah had convinced their mother to allow her to bring Susanna to the presentation this evening, so her sister was her responsibility.

Susanna wasn’t the only one losing patience with the long wait. Herman Beachy, who could never sit still for long, was tugging at his sister Verna’s bonnet strings and, by the expression on her face, she appeared ready to give him a sharp elbow in the ribs. Amish considered themselves nonviolent, but that didn’t mean brothers and sisters didn’t have their spats. Leah could see that the rest of the Gleaners were keyed up as well. If the youngsters became unruly, it would reflect badly on the entire Amish community, and that would put an end to any future outings of this kind.

Leah leaned forward, cleared her throat and threw Charley a meaningful look. See what’s keeping him, she mouthed silently.

We’ll just wait, he mouthed in return.

Leah rolled her eyes in exasperation. What was wrong with Charley? It had been his idea to bring the youth group, but now that they were here and things weren’t going as smoothly as expected, her usually gregarious brother-in-law seemed unsure of himself. Even Miriam seemed out of her element.

Leah wished she and Rebecca had come alone, as she’d first planned when she’d seen the notice for Daniel Brown’s talk. The sisters had recently returned to Delaware after spending a year in Ohio caring for their aging grandmother and great-aunt. The Amish church in Grossmama’s community had been more liberal than in Seven Poplars, and she and her sister had often gone to dinners, charity auctions and programs put on by the Mennonites. There, the two denominations mingled more regularly than in Seven Poplars.

Leah had never stopped to think that not all Old Order Amish were so at ease with the Mennonite community. And the same went for the Mennonites. She’d certainly seen it tonight when the Amish had all taken seats on one side of the aisle and the Mennonites on the other. And now, both Charley and Miriam, of all people, seemed nervous. Well, if they wouldn’t go see what was going on, she’d have to.

“Stay here with Rebecca,” she whispered to Susanna as she stood up.

Smiling, Susanna nodded and clasped Rebecca’s hand.

Leah crossed the aisle to where a gray-haired woman stood talking anxiously to a middle-aged man. Dinah was a cheerful woman who always wore a modest dress and a white crocheted head covering. She often stopped by the Yoder farm to purchase large quantities of eggs for her church bake sales. It was Dinah who’d made a special point of inviting the Seven Poplars Amish community to hear the speaker.

“It’s an opportunity not to be missed,” she’d said to Leah’s mother, Hannah, a few weeks ago. “Daniel Brown faced down an angry Moroccan mob to rescue a homeless youth falsely accused of theft. If Daniel hadn’t put his own life in danger to interfere, a tragedy could have occurred.”

“An excellent role model for our children,” Mam had agreed. She’d said no more about Daniel Brown, but Leah had seen her mother deep in conversation with their bishop after church the following Sunday. Both Leah and Miriam were convinced that it was due to Mam’s powers of persuasion that Bishop Atlee had agreed that the Gleaners should accept the invitation to hear the young missionary speak.

But now they were here and anxious for the program to begin…and there was no Daniel Brown in sight.

“I apologize for the delay,” Dinah said as Leah approached. “Daniel’s on his way. He’s usually very dependable, but he had some problem. Something about leaving his coat at a rest stop.” Dinah chuckled. “Men. But, we’re so pleased that so many from your church have come out to hear Daniel, especially the young people.”

“We didn’t want them to miss hearing Daniel’s story,” Leah said. “How often do we have a real hero in our midst?”

“Exactly,” Dinah agreed. “Oh, Leah, do you know my eldest son, Raymond?” When Leah nodded, Dinah went on. “Raymond’s been trying to reach Daniel on his cell phone to see how soon he expects to arrive, but he hasn’t had any luck. We thought he’d be here by now.”

“I’m sure it’s just the storm.” Leah offered a quick smile.

It was raining hard outside, and the wind was rattling the shutters. Earlier, as they’d driven here from the farm, they’d been caught in a sudden flurry of thunder and lightning so fierce that Leah had wondered if she should turn back, but that had passed, leaving just a steady downpour. Fortunately, there was a long, open shed with a good roof behind the Grange where they could shelter the horses and buggies.

“Daniel’s driving up from Richmond,” Dinah explained, “and I understand that Virginia’s had bad weather all day.”

The side door opened, and everyone glanced up expectantly. “Evening, Daniel,” Dinah said. “Maude.” The couple took seats on the Mennonite side in the last row, and Dinah turned back to Leah. “That’s Daniel Warner and his wife.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “They’re always late.”

“I’d hoped that was the speaker,” Leah said.

Dinah laughed. “We seem to have a lot of Daniels in our community. It’s a popular name among us. One of my sons is also a Daniel. Named after my father-in-law. My husband always teased that perhaps we should give them nicknames to keep the Daniels straight.” Another gust of wind shook the windowpanes and she grimaced. “If we’d realized that it would be such a nasty evening, we could have postponed until tomorrow night.”

“I see that there are pictures and other material up front.” Leah pointed. “I was wondering if it would be all right if the young people looked at them while we’re waiting.” She chuckled. “You know how impatient youngsters can get. They’ve been looking forward to tonight for weeks.”

“Absolutely,” Dinah said. “And we have a refreshment table. There’s no reason we shouldn’t all enjoy lemonade and cookies while—”

Abruptly, the heavy door at the front of the building banged open and a blast of wind blew through the hall sending photos and maps flying. Leah turned to see a tall, slim man about twenty-five years old standing in the doorway. Water dripped off his jean jacket and the bill of his ball cap, pooling on the floor. A gust tore at the door, threatening to wrench it out of his grasp, but he held it open until ten-year-old Abraham Beachy ducked into the hall.

Abraham was even wetter than the man in the jean jacket and ball cap. The Amish boy’s face was pale and he looked frightened. The man said something to him that Leah couldn’t hear, but Abraham just shuffled his feet and stared at the floor.

The newcomer looked up and cleared his throat. “Could I have your attention, please!” He nodded to Abraham who shook his head. “Go ahead,” he urged.

Everyone in their chairs who hadn’t turned around to look when they made their entrance, turned now.

Abraham swallowed hard and a deep flush rose from his throat to tint his face. “…Need help,” he squeaked. “…Joey.”

Charley stood up and hurried toward Abraham. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

Abraham, an undersized lad, burst into tears. Leah left Dinah and Raymond and walked down the aisle toward the Beachy boy.

“Abraham’s parents—Norman and Lydia Beachy—have asked for help,” the stranger said, speaking for Abraham. “It seems one of their children—”

“Joey!” Abraham wailed. “We can’t…can’t find…Joey.”

“Their six-year-old son has gone missing,” the man explained calmly, turning his attention to the Amish side of the aisle. “The family has asked if your youth group can come to their farm and help with the search.”

Miriam walked up to the stranger. “Of course,” she said. “We’ll all help.”

Chairs scraped against the worn floorboards. Everyone in the hall, Amish and Mennonite alike, stood.

“We have to look for Joey,” Abraham managed. “It’s all my fault. I…I lost him.”

“It’ll be all right.” Miriam put an arm around Abraham. She was short, but Abraham’s head barely reached her chin.

“Lost him where?” Leah asked. She couldn’t imagine a six-year-old out in this weather. It didn’t make sense. Maybe he was hiding somewhere in the rambling Beachy farmhouse or in the barn or outbuildings. With fourteen children under the age of sixteen, it was easy for Lydia to lose track of one little boy. That didn’t mean that Joey was really lost.

Herman Beachy, Abraham’s brother, hurried up to him. “What do you mean you lost him?” Herman demanded. Their sister, Verna, covered her face with her hands and sank back into her chair.

“How did you find out about the missing boy, Daniel?” A Mennonite girl only a little younger than Leah joined them. “Daniel’s my cousin,” she whispered to Leah. “I’m Caroline Steiner. I think you know some of my Steiner cousins in Ohio. From Hope Mennonite Church?”

“Sophie and Jeanine.” Leah nodded.

“Hey, Caroline.” Daniel offered a worried smile. “It’s good to see you. Abraham’s father flagged me down at the end of his lane,” he explained. “He knew that some of the young people from their church were here with their group leaders and asked if I could bring Abraham to ask for help looking for the boy.”

“You can count on us,” Charley said.

He and Miriam went back to their group and began to organize them. Leah knew that some of the children were too young to join in. The girls’ parents, especially, would want them safely delivered home. Luckily, they’d come in four buggies. Rebecca could be trusted to drive Susanna and some of the others home; Miriam could manage the rest.

As for Leah, she had no intention of going home. She’d always had a particular fondness for freckle-faced Joey. She would offer to take Verna, Abraham and Herman back to the Beachy farm, and once she was there, no one would object to her joining the search.

As the Amish moved toward the doors, the newcomer strode past Leah and called out to the Mennonites. “Michael? Gilbert? Who’ll come with me to find the boy?”

“I’d be glad to,” a stout man answered. “I’ve got a flashlight in the truck, but there are a lot of woods and fields around here, and I’m not familiar with the area.”

“So we’ll form groups,” Daniel said, checking his pockets. “Someone can ride with me, if they like…soon as I find my keys.” He looked up, extracting keys from a jacket pocket. “We’ll make certain that there’s someone in each group who does know their way.” There was a chorus of agreement as men and women raised their hands and offered to help.

Leah knotted her bonnet strings and waved at Caroline just before dashing out into the rain. It made her feel good that Caroline’s cousin had urged the others to join in the search.

She couldn’t help but think how attractive the new Daniel was. He had a serious but handsome face, and nice hands that were never still when he was talking, even after he’d found his keys. As he’d walked past her in the aisle, Leah had noticed that his eyes were clear green—he had beautiful eyes. She couldn’t remember ever meeting anyone with eyes that green before.

After telling the children to wait for her at the door, Leah made a run for the buggy. With so many more volunteers, she was certain they’d find Joey quickly. As Mam often said, most people had good hearts and were willing to do the right thing, if someone would just point them in the right direction.

* * *

Minutes later, Leah guided her horse up the muddy lane to the Beachy farmhouse. Buggies, SUVs and pickup trucks already filled the yard. Amish neighbors always came to help out in any emergency, but the Mennonites and Englishers were more than welcome. Norman, Joey’s father, stood in the pouring rain, shaking hands with friends and strangers alike and thanking everyone for coming, but it was Samuel Mast, their church deacon, who appeared to be in charge.

One of the kids took Leah’s horse and promised to find the mare a dry stall in the barn. A red-eyed Lydia came to the back door and called for Leah to join the women in the kitchen. Leah hesitated, then went in, but kept her green rain slicker on. It wasn’t Amish clothing, but Mam had bought everyone in the family one at an Englisher store years ago.

“I’m going right back out,” Leah explained to the worried Lydia. “To help with the search.”

As usual, Lydia’s kitchen was complete chaos, with toddlers dashing about, a cat carrying kittens to a basket in the corner of the room, and Jesse, Joey’s twin brother, climbing up on the counter to get something out of the cupboard.

Leah was surprised to see her Aunt Martha standing at the counter making coffee. Aunt Martha and Lydia didn’t usually visit each other’s homes, and Leah wondered how her aunt had heard the news about Joey and gotten here so fast, but then Leah’s mother, Hannah, came from the hallway with Lydia’s newest baby in her arms.

Samuel must have gone for Mam, Leah thought, leaving her sister Anna, his wife, home with their children. Samuel would have guessed that Lydia needed Hannah, Leah’s mother. And somehow, Aunt Martha had included herself in the emergency.

“You’re certain you want to go out with the men?” Aunt Martha asked. She had the misfortune to be born with a nasally voice that always came out sounding as if she was peeved at someone.

Leah nodded. “I am.”

“I told you she would.” Hannah handed the fussing baby to Lydia.

Aunt Martha wiped her hands on her apron, poured a cup of steaming coffee and pressed it into Leah’s hands. “Drink this,” she ordered. “If you’re determined to go out in this rain and catch your death, you’ll need it.”

“Thanks, Aunt Martha, but I couldn’t drink a drop.”

Her aunt frowned, and Leah knew she’d offended her again when she voiced a thank you. Most Amish considered please and thank you to be fancy words. Showing off. The service to one another and the thanks were assumed, and such words weren’t bandied about, but that was another habit she’d picked up from her more worldly friends back in Ohio.

“I need to go.” Leah gave the coffee to her mother. “The search parties are getting organized.”

“I wouldn’t stand for my Dorcas to be out in the dark with strangers. Not my daughter,” Aunt Martha fussed. “That’s a man’s place, not a woman’s, and certainly not a girl’s.” She threw a meaningful look at Mam. “This is what comes of her running wild out in Ohio, going to fairs with her Mennonite friends, eating ice cream at all hours and taking herself to every frolic in the county.”

“Not every frolic, Aunt Martha,” Leah defended. “Rebecca and I spent most of the time taking care of Grossmama.”

Aunt Martha scowled. “Not what I hear.”

“All these years and all these blessed children, and I’ve lost nary a one before,” Lydia fretted to no one in particular, rocking the baby. “Where can my Joey be?”

“I’m here, Mam,” Jesse piped up.

“You hush,” Lydia corrected. “And get down off that counter before I dust your bottom.”

Jesse ignored her and kept digging in the cabinet. Aunt Martha scooped him up, deposited him on the floor and said. “You heard your mother. Shoo!”

Jesse shooed.

“Joey’s just turned six and he’s scared of the dark.” Lydia glanced at the dark windows. “Where can he have got to?”

“We’ll find him,” Leah promised.

“Be glad you’ve got other children,” Aunt Martha intoned as she cut herself a slice of chocolate cake. “Reuben and I were never so blessed.”

Leah wished her aunt had stayed at home. Lydia didn’t need to hear that. She was worried enough. “Have the kids searched the barns and the house?” Leah asked.

Lydia nodded. “Root cellar to attic. I’ve had the girls digging through the straw in the hayloft and looking under the chicken house. God help him, he’s such a rascal to put us all through this.”

Mam removed her blue headscarf and handed it to Leah. “Give me your kapp and bonnet,” she said. “The woods at night are no place to be wearing your bonnet. And button up your slicker all the way. It will keep the rain off.”

“Be quick about it,” Aunt Martha said. “It’s not seemly for either of you to go uncovered. With all these Englishers and Mennonites wandering about, no telling who might take it into his head to wander in the kitchen without knocking.”

Leah quickly traded head coverings with her mother.

Seconds later, Charley opened the door and peered in. “Come on if you’re coming, Leah. Samuel’s assigning groups to search together.”

“I’ve got to go, Mam.” Leah gave the ends of the headscarf she tied beneath her chin a firm tug.

Fresh tears filled Lydia’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “You find my Joey,” she murmured, rocking the baby against her.

“I’ll do my best,” Leah said.

Her mother put her arms around Leah and kissed her on the forehead. “You take care, daughter. I’d not have you come to harm out there in the dark.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Mam as usual, was worrying unnecessarily. What could possibly happen to her if she wasn’t stupid enough to fall into the pond or walk into a tree? It was Joey Leah was worried about. A lot of things could happen to a lost six-year-old on a night like this…none of them good.

Chapter Two

Twenty minutes after arriving at the Beachy farm, Daniel found himself trudging through a pasture in the rain with his cousins Caroline and Leslie, whom he would be staying with, and a young Amish woman, Leah Yoder. It was a strange turn of events. He’d expected to spend the evening giving his PowerPoint presentation, but this wasn’t the first time that God had steered him in a new direction.

Daniel had learned to listen to his inner voice, and it had never failed him. No message had ever come stronger than the need to join in the hunt for little Joey Beachy and to enlist the Mennonite community in the search. His talk could be given another day. A child’s life might be in danger, and Daniel couldn’t stand by while others went out to find him.

Growing up, he’d often been rebellious. He loved his parents and family, and he knew the importance of the missionary work that they did, but he’d never thought it was the life for him. When he’d left them in Morocco to go to college in the States, he’d insisted on a typical college experience. He hadn’t even gone to the Mennonite Bible School that his parents and his older brother had attended. Instead, he’d gone to the University of Ohio to study nursing. He’d expected to work in a small community hospital in the Midwest when he graduated, but then, like now, God had other plans for him. In the end, he liked to think that his early rebellion against his parents’ expectations had better prepared him for his life.

Daniel suddenly felt his foot slip in a water-filled hole and he threw his hands out to try to regain his balance. At the same moment, Leah grabbed his arm to steady him, keeping him from falling onto his bottom. “Thanks,” he said as he righted himself, giving her a sheepish smile.

“Careful where you step,” she cautioned. “You’ll do Joey no good if you twist an ankle.”

Leah’s grip was strong. Being a farm girl, he supposed she must be used to lifting hay bales and chopping wood, but he still felt a little foolish. He should have been the one coming to her rescue.

Caroline giggled. “And watch out for the cow pies.”

“Plenty of those out here too,” Leah agreed, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“I’m good now.” Daniel pulled away his hand, telling himself he shouldn’t feel embarrassed. He’d have done the same for her, wouldn’t he?

Daniel had been glad when Samuel Mast had picked Leah to accompany his group.

“She knows these woods and fields,” Samuel had explained quietly to him. “We’re glad for your help, but it’s easy to get turned around out there if you don’t know where you’re going. You’ll be all right with Leah. She’s a sensible girl.”

Watching Leah in the dark, Daniel thought that it was probably a good assessment. She was dressed for the downpour in boots and a rain slicker and she’d brought her own flashlight. She was keeping the strong beam steady to light their way.

In spite of the confusion at the Grange, Daniel had noticed red-haired Leah right away. Not only was she particularly attractive, but he’d been struck by how worldly she’d seemed for a young Amish woman. Her starched white kapp and modest blue dress and cape had looked exactly like those of her companions, but Leah Yoder stood out among them. She maintained a certain poise he didn’t usually see in Amish women. It was immediately clear that she had a strong personality and was a take-charge type of person, all characteristics he admired.

Daniel remembered that when he was in Ohio recently, a cousin had talked at length about her Amish friend, Leah, from Delaware and the fun they’d had last summer at the county fair. He wondered if this could be the same Leah. It had to be. How many Amish Leahs could there be in Kent County, Delaware?

After all the search groups had been organized back in the barnyard, Samuel had suggested that each group choose a leader. Samuel had made a joke about Daniel not letting his girls get out of hand, and the other men had thought it funny.

Daniel ended up being the only man on an otherwise all-female team, but it didn’t matter to him. He’d promised his Aunt Joyce, Caroline and Leslie’s mother, that he’d look after them if they were allowed to help in the search. He had every intention of keeping his word, but once they’d left the barnyard, he suggested Leah take the leader’s position in the group.

“You don’t want to?” she’d asked. “I have to warn you, you might get some teasing from the men if they hear about it.”

“I’m not a country boy,” he’d explained. “It would be foolish for me to tell you where we should look for Joey. You know the area. Besides, I’d get us all lost in the dark, and search parties would have to come find us.”

Carolyn had chuckled. “He’s right, Leah. Daniel’s sense of direction isn’t that great. He got lost at Hershey Park with his church group.”

“I was only eight,” Daniel had protested. “And the whole family has teased me about it ever since.”

“Believe me,” Caroline had said. “We’re all safer if you lead the way, Leah.”

“All right,” Leah had agreed. “If you put it that way, but we may have to walk a long way and there will be fences to climb and briars to wade through.”

“Lead on, Sacagawea,” Daniel had said. “I promise not to wimp out.”

And here they were now, in the dark, in the rain, mud sucking at Daniel’s best leather shoes. His only pair of good shoes.

The pasture was huge. After they’d gone far enough that the house was only a small light in the distance, Caroline asked Leah if she knew how Joey had gotten lost in the first place.

Leah slowed her pace so that they could walk closer together. “Barbara—that’s Joey’s sister—told me that their mother had sent Abraham and Minnie to find their Jersey cow.”

“The Beachys must have a large family,” Leslie remarked.

“Fairly large.” Leah flashed the light across a hole to be sure they all saw it. “Joey has thirteen brothers and sisters.”

“So what happened in this hunt for the cow?” Caroline asked.

“Abraham and Minnie went out looking for Matilda,” Leah continued, keeping the flashlight beam steady ahead of them. “Watch out for that briar.” She pointed. “The spines are sharp enough to go through your clothes.”

“Who’s Matilda?”

“Matilda is the cow. Matilda hadn’t come in to be milked with the rest of the herd. Apparently she’s due to drop her calf in a few weeks, and Lydia was concerned about her. Pregnant cows sometimes wander off and hide, and a rainy April night is no place for a newborn calf.”

“Too cold, I suppose,” Daniel offered. He didn’t know a thing about cows, even less about cows having calves, but it seemed logical.

“True,” Leah agreed. “But more than that, there’s a pack of dogs in the neighborhood. Englishers like to drop their unwanted pets near our farms. I guess they think that we can take in every stray, but we can’t. It’s a real problem for farmers or anyone with livestock.” She sighed deeply. “There are four or five dogs in this particular pack. I doubt they were abandoned together, but they found each other. Left to fend for themselves, eventually even pets turn feral. They kill squirrels and deer and rabbits to live, but they find their way into barnyards. Penned animals are easier prey. My Uncle Reuben lost a milk goat to them this winter. I’m sure Lydia was afraid that if Matilda dropped her calf, the dogs would smell the blood and come after them.”

“Almost like wolves.” Leslie looked around fearfully.

“Could these dogs be a danger to a child?” Caroline asked.

“I hope not, but you never know.” Leah continued forward, lowering her head against the driving rain. “Anyway, Joey must have followed the bigger kids. When Abraham saw him, he was already angry with him because Joey had seen him accidentally spilling a bucket of milk this morning, and Joey had told their mother. Abraham got in trouble and, naturally, he blamed Joey, instead of his own carelessness.”

“Like my little brothers,” Caroline said. “They’re always getting into it. I never realized that Amish mothers had the same trouble.”

Leah chuckled. “We aren’t that different,” she reminded. “We may offer our prayers in a different form and dress differently, but kids are kids.”

“It’s like that all over the world,” Daniel put in. “But go on.”

“Anyway,” Leah continued. “It started to thunder, and Minnie got scared.”

“How old is she?” Leslie wanted to know.

“Minnie’s eight,” Leah said. “She started crying to go back to the house. Annoyed because they hadn’t found the cow and he still had chores to finish before dinner, Abraham told them both to go home. He told them he’d find Matilda himself.”

“But if Joey was with his sister,” Leslie said, “how did…”

“According to Minnie,” Leah went on, “Joey had gone only a short distance with her when there was thunder again and he decided that he wanted Abraham. He left Minnie to run back to his brother, leaving Minnie to think he was with Abraham, and Abraham believing Minnie had taken him back to the house. Abraham eventually found the missing cow, and drove her back to the barn, but he never saw Joey.”

“Was there a calf?” Caroline stopped to untangle herself from some tall weeds. The rain wasn’t making it easier for any of them. Instead of letting up, it was coming down harder, and they were walking directly into it.

“No, Matilda was just being a cow.” Leah slowed to wait for her. “They aren’t as smart as horses or dogs, and they can be a little hardheaded. Anyway, no one missed Joey until his place was empty at the dinner table. By then he’d been missing for nearly two hours.”

“Well, he’s got to be out here somewhere.” Leslie moved closer to Daniel. “There aren’t any bulls in this pasture, are there?”

“The Beachys don’t have a bull and the cows are all up at the barn.” Leah made a small sound of distress. “I can’t imagine being Joey’s age and out here alone. Wherever he is, he must be terrified.”

Across the field, Daniel could see flickering lights from other search parties’ flashlights, but they were too far away to hear the volunteers. The only sounds besides their own footsteps and voices were the rain falling, the wind and the occasional rustle in the grass. Every so often, they stopped and Leah called the boy’s name, but there was never an answer.

The house and barn were far behind them, and in the wet darkness, Daniel felt as though he was in a wilderness. He’d traveled all over the world, but he’d always lived in an urban environment. He was used to towns and teeming cities, airports and hospitals. He was at home in noisy bazaars and crowded neighborhoods where Arabic and Spanish and a dozen other languages were spoken. He’d learned to feel at ease on busy trains, buses and subways, but here he felt completely out of his element. How could they possibly find one small child in all this darkness? Joey could be anywhere.

It was no wonder the Beachy family had called for help. Daniel had been told that women from the Amish church were organizing a prayer vigil, and he knew that Dinah Rhinehart had asked the Mennonite women if they would do the same. Samuel Mast said that someone had notified the Delaware State Police. And in the farmyard, Daniel had heard talk of sending for search dogs.

“There are a lot of rumors flying around,” Leah said when they stopped to catch their breath. “One of the Beachy girls said that Joey had told her that a man in a blue pickup offered him candy at their mailbox a few days ago.”

Daniel and his cousins moved closer so that they could hear what she was saying.

“And Noodle Troyer told my brother-in-law, Charley, that Elmer, Joey’s brother, found Joey’s hat and one shoe in the mud beside a pond. But I don’t put much stock in that story, since it’s Noodle.” She cocked her head to one side. “He’s known for telling tall tales and making much out of nothing.”

Rain was running down the back of Daniel’s jean jacket, and his trousers were soaked. He wished he’d checked the weather report before heading north to Delaware from where he’d been speaking in Virginia—he could have used his raincoat right now. Leah was the only one who seemed to be properly dressed for a night like this. She had a hooded rain slicker that reached past her knees to her black rubber boots. Wide sleeves protected her arms and covered half her hands. Her flashlight was an expensive Maglite. His flashlight was a cheap one from the dollar store, and it wasn’t as bright. It needed new batteries; he remembered that now. But he didn’t always think ahead, a fault his father was quick to point out.

“Did you have time to stop home for your flashlight?” Daniel asked, giving his a tap.

“We always keep it in the buggy.” Leah offered a quick smile. “Just to be safe. And it looked like rain, so I threw boots and the raincoat in the back before we headed to the Grange to hear the speaker. My mother always told us girls to be prepared for anything whenever we left home.”

“She sounds wise, your mother,” Daniel said.

“Ya, Mam is smart. She’s the schoolteacher here in Seven Poplars. But she’s got a lot of common sense, too.”

“What else do you carry in case of emergencies?” Daniel asked. He was teasing her a little, but he was also curious. There were all sorts of things about Leah Yoder he wanted to know.

“I have flares in the buggy, too,” she answered, “but I didn’t see any need to bring those.”

“You don’t have a cell phone, do you?”

“Nah.” Leah shook her head, sending droplets of water flying. “Our church doesn’t permit them.”

“Don’t you have a phone, Daniel?” Caroline asked. “I keep telling Mom that I need one just as much as Leslie does.”

“I do have a cell,” Daniel admitted, “but it’s back in my truck. I forgot to charge it, so it wouldn’t be much use to us. But if Leslie brought hers…”

“I’ve got it,” Leslie assured him, patting the pocket of her coat. “And it’s charged.”

“We don’t have electricity so a cell phone wouldn’t do me much good,” Leah explained. “There’s a regular phone at the chair shop across the road from our house. We can use it to call the doctor or make important calls, but we aren’t allowed to have personal phones.”

Daniel liked Leah’s voice. It was clear and sweet, yet she had no trouble making herself heard above the rain. Leah had a slight accent, not German, but almost Southern. Her grammar and vocabulary were very good. Hearing her, no one would guess that she’d never completed high school. The Delaware Amish, he knew, sent their children to private church schools that ended with eighth-grade graduation.

“There’s a fence just ahead,” Leah said. “I thought maybe we should search the woods, but I see lights there so I think some of the other groups are looking there. If we cross the fence line, we’ll be on the Crawford sheep farm. The Crawfords are living in Dover while their house is being remodeled, and there’s a long lane from the road to the buildings.”

Using his little flashlight, Daniel located a fence post and three strands of barbed wire. “How do we climb over that?” he asked.

“We don’t.” Leah plucked at the top row. “But the wire isn’t tight. If one of us holds up that bottom strand, the others can crawl under.”

Daniel nodded, resigned to whatever it took to find the boy. He was already wet and cold, so what was a little mud? “I’ll hold the wire until you get through, and then one of you can hold it for me.”

The plan worked, but the ground was just as wet and uncomfortable as he thought it would be. He supposed that a six-year-old would have had an easier time getting under, if he’d come this way. But why would a child venture farther away from home rather than closer? He felt a sense of dread. What if the rumor about Joey’s hat and shoe discovered by the pond was true? Or, God forbid, the story about a stranger offering the boy a treat? Tonight could end in more than discomfort. It could be a real tragedy for the Beachy family and the whole community.

“Please, God,” he murmured under his breath as he wiggled the last few inches until he was clear of the barbed wire. “Be with this child. Hold him safe in the palm of your hand until we can get to him.”

“Ouch!” Caroline cried.

Daniel got to his feet. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?” He shone his flashlight on Caroline. She was holding her left hand out, and even through the rain, he could see that blood was oozing from a deep gash across her palm.

“Let me see,” he said. On closer inspection, he saw that the cut was ragged and about two inches long.

“Does it hurt?” Leslie asked.

“It stings.”

“That barbed wire is rusty.” Leah came to stand with them. “I hope you’re up-to-date on your tetanus shot.”

“She was vaccinated when she was little,” Leslie said. “Isn’t that good enough?”

“I don’t think so,” Leah said. “Irwin—he’s sort of my foster brother—stepped on a nail a couple of weeks ago and our doctor said he had to have a booster. She’ll probably need to have one, too, but it’s not an emergency. It can wait until tomorrow as long as she doesn’t need stitches.”

“I don’t think it needs stitches.” Daniel handed his cousin a handkerchief. “But Leah’s right. You should check with your doctor to see when you were last vaccinated. I’ve actually seen cases of tetanus. It’s not something to mess around with.”

Caroline wrapped his handkerchief around her hand, but the cloth turned from white to pink. “I feel like such an idiot. I thought I had hold of the wire, but it slipped through my hand.”

“I think you’d better go back to the house.” Leslie rested her hand on Caroline’s back. “Mom will want to have a look at this.”

“But I wanted to help.” Caroline’s voice quivered. “And now, I’ve caused all of you a problem.”

“Why don’t the three of you go back?” Leah suggested. “I want to check some sheds on this farm, but I’ll be fine. I know the way.”

Daniel reached out and pressed his hand over Caroline’s. “More pressure should stop the bleeding. Do you think you’ll be all right to walk back with Leslie?”

“Sure,” she answered. “It’s a cut hand, not a broken leg.”

“Leslie?” he asked. “You okay walking her back?”

“Sure. I’ll go with her. I hate to leave you guys, but I agree she shouldn’t go alone. What if she faints or something?”

Caroline made a sound of disbelief. “Have you ever known me to faint in my life? Stop making such a fuss. I’ll be fine. You stay and hunt for Joey with Daniel and Leah. I can go back myself.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Daniel adjusted his ball cap to try to keep some of the rain out of his eyes. “The two of you should go back together. No one should be out here alone. I’ll go with Leah.” He looked at Leah as it occurred to him what he was saying. Three girls and a guy was one thing. A guy and girl, in some cultures, was something entirely different. “Will you be in trouble if the two of us go on together alone? We’re not breaking any Amish rules, are we?”

“Nah,” Leah assured him. “It isn’t encouraged, a boy and girl alone together, but it’s not forbidden. We’re looking for a lost child. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

Caroline giggled.

Leah glanced at Caroline, then back at Daniel. “This kind of situation allows for exceptions to the rules. Besides, I haven’t officially joined the Amish church, so I’m sort of rumspringa. This is my running around time. The rules aren’t so strict for me.”

“So you don’t mind if I come with you?”

Leah shook her head. “I would be glad of your help. But we have to get going.” She looked out over the dark field ahead. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she said softly. “A really bad feeling.”

Chapter Three

Daniel watched as Caroline and Leslie’s flashlight beam grew smaller as they recrossed the big pasture beyond the barbed-wire fence. “I guess it’s just the two of us,” he said to Leah, raising his voice so that she could hear him above the sound of the rain and the booming thunder.

“Just the two of us,” she repeated. “Come on. This way. It doesn’t look as though this is going to let up.”

Not only wasn’t the downpour easing, it was getting worse. He glanced up as lightning zigzagged through the sky. It struck so close that he smelled the burnt grass when a bolt hit the ground. “Maybe we should think about looking for shelter,” Daniel suggested, not so much worried for himself as for Leah. “Just until the worst of this passes.”

“There’s a shed in the pasture beyond these woods where the farmer stores hay,” Leah shouted. “We can duck in there.” She began to walk faster, and he lengthened his stride to keep up with her.

Water was running down the inside of Daniel’s jacket, and his pants were soaked and muddy to his knees. Leah was wearing a skirt, so he knew she had to be colder than he was, even wearing her rain slicker. He couldn’t imagine any of his sisters out here in the dark and pouring rain with a strange man. The two still at home were both younger than he supposed Leah must be, but he doubted they would ever have the self-confidence that she seemed to have. Most girls, especially girls born with such outer beauty as Leah possessed, rarely showed the same strength of character.

A gust of wind shook the trees overhead and nearly knocked them off their feet. Daniel took Leah’s arm to steady her, and she made no protest. A night like this and a child lost in it? What must the boy’s family be going through?

Once, when his family was sightseeing in Barcelona, his younger brother, Matthew, had gotten separated from the rest of them during a festival. The streets were crowded, and eight-year-old Matthew spoke only a little Spanish. They’d notified the police and looked for Matthew for hours without finding a trace of him. Daniel remembered how pale his mother’s face had been, and yet, she’d remained calm. “Have faith, but don’t stop hunting for him,” she’d said. “God expects us to do our fair share.”

Their prayers had been answered. When his mother had returned to the bed-and-breakfast where they’d been staying, Matthew was sitting on the steps waiting. Earlier that morning, he had picked up a brochure in the hotel because it had red balloons on it. He’d stuck the folder in his coat pocket, and when he got lost, he’d asked a teenage girl for help. She’d studied English in school and was able to understand why Matthew was crying. Somehow, the girl had seen the brochure, read the address, and given his little brother a ride back to the B&B on the back of her bike.

“Lucky,” the policeman had said, when Daniel’s parents had reported Matthew as safe.

“Not lucky, but blessed,” Mother had insisted.

Daniel hoped that Joey Beachy would be just as blessed. He was even younger than Matthew had been, and the family still talked about the incident. Daniel missed his family, but he missed his little brother most of all. This would have been Matthew’s senior year in high school, but he’d moved to Canada with their mother, father and the three girls. Daniel hoped he’d have time to visit with them before he left for his new assignment.

Lightning flashed, closer this time, and Daniel felt a little better when they left the trees. The batteries in his flashlight were growing weaker, however, and the beam was a pale yellow light. “I think it’s going out,” he said to Leah, tapping the flashlight against his leg.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Mine’s good.”

As if on cue, his flashlight went out. He smacked it against his leg, but it wouldn’t come back on.

“It’s okay. We’re almost there.” She pointed with her flashlight, and Daniel made out a dark outline of a wooden gate in the tall grass.

“I see it,” he shouted, shoving his useless flashlight into his jacket pocket. He didn’t have much hope that little Joey would be this far from the house, but once the worst of the storm passed, maybe they could double-back to continue their search.

They dashed the last few yards to the shelter. Leah shone her flashlight on the wooden gate and Daniel tugged it open. The first thing that he saw when he stepped into the shed was the pale frightened face of a small boy looking up at him.

“Joey!” Leah cried.

Little Joey Beachy sat on the ground with his arms around a shaggy brown-and-white goat. His eyes were red and swollen from crying; streaks trailed down his dirty cheeks. When he saw Leah, a cascade of fresh tears began to flow.

“Joey,” Leah crooned, setting her flashlight on a bale of hay. She dropped to her knees and gathered the child into her arms. “What are you doing here?” she murmured. “Your mam is so worried. Everyone’s been hunting for you.”

Joey began to sob. Daniel couldn’t understand what he was saying because the boy was speaking Pennsylvania Dutch. Leah switched to that language as well, leaving Daniel at a loss. He glanced around the low shed. It was too dark to see much, but the roof was sound, and it was a relief to be out of the downpour.

The goat got up and began bleating pitifully. Daniel didn’t know much about goats, but this one sounded as if it was in distress. Daniel’s wet coat clung to him. It was so soaked through that it gave little protection against the cold, so he took it off and draped it over a bale of hay. Then another sound, a feeble high-pitched squeak, caught his attention.

Leah must have heard the noise as well, because she turned her flashlight toward the source. Nestled in the hay was a baby goat. Daniel hadn’t noticed it before because it was black and nearly hidden in the shadows. The larger goat nosed at the little one, looked back at her midsection and began to bleat again.

Daniel didn’t need translation. As an RN, he’d had a rotation in maternity at Rutherford General Hospital. He hadn’t seen any pregnant goats there, but he’d helped deliver a lot of babies. And now that he looked at the brown-and-white goat closely, he could see that her belly was still swollen. She’d just given birth to the little black kid but was obviously carrying a second one.

Leah hugged Joey and stood him on his feet, wiping under his eyes with her thumbs. “He said that he got separated from his brother and sister and a wolf chased him.”

“A wolf?”

She shrugged, but her eyes twinkled. “He said he ran to the shelter to get away from the wolf and found the goat here.”

Joey nodded and started talking again in Pennsylvania Dutch.

“English,” Leah reminded him.

“The baby. I didn’t want the wolf to get it,” the boy said. “Then it was night and…and…” A rattle of Dutch followed.

“He was afraid of the storm,” Leah finished. “And he couldn’t leave the goats. The doe is having trouble.”

Daniel nodded. “I think there’s a second kid.”

“Probably,” she agreed.

Daniel picked up her flashlight and shone the beam around the shed, seeing that the roof slanted toward the back. Bales of sweet-smelling hay were stacked against the far wall, making the shelter feel snug and almost warm.

“So he stayed here all this time with the goats?” Daniel asked.

“He was afraid the wolves would kill them. It was probably the wild dogs I was telling you about.” She rubbed the boy’s arm, said something in Pennsylvania Dutch again, then continued speaking to Daniel in English. “A goat can usually drive off a single dog, but not a pack. Joey was smart to stay here where it was safe.”

The mother goat began to paw the floor and bleat. Leah walked over to the goat and ran her hands over its belly. “I think the twin kid might be stuck,” she said. “The first one is already dry. This one should have been born by now.” She bit down on her lower lip. “I wish my sister, Miriam, was here. She’d know what to do.” She looked up at Daniel. “She’s really good with animals.”

“Can you hold her?” Daniel asked, putting the flashlight back on the bale of hay. He dug into the deep pockets of his jacket and pulled out a pair of latex gloves he always carried. “If you can hold her still, I can examine her.”

Joey said something in Pennsylvania Dutch.

“He wants to know if you know about goats.”

“Not so much about goats,” Daniel admitted. “But I’m a nurse. I know about babies. Goats can’t be much different, can they?” He couldn’t see Leah’s face in the shadows, but he sensed that she was looking at him in a different way.

“You’re a nurse?” she asked softly. “I thought nurses were women.”

“Not all nurses.” This shed wasn’t the ideal spot for a delivery. He was used to the sterile conditions of a hospital. He put his hands on the goat and she squealed and tried to get away.

“Wait,” Leah grabbed her flashlight off the bale of hay and handed it to the boy. “Hold it steady, Joey. I’ll hold the doe.” She slipped her arms around the goat’s neck and pushed against its front legs with her knee. To Daniel’s surprise, the doe’s legs folded under her and she lay down on the hay-strewn floor.

With Leah holding the animal still, it was much easier for him to run his hands along its abdomen. “I think I see the problem,” he said. “One of the kid’s legs is twisted back, keeping it from being born.”

“Is there anything you can do to help?” Leah asked softly.

Daniel liked the way she remained calm. He could imagine what the reaction of most girls would be, but she was different, more mature…sensible. He found he liked Leah Yoder more and more as the night wore on.

“If you can keep her still, I think I can wiggle that leg free and…yes, there it comes!”

The goat leaped to her feet and a moment later, another kid slipped out into the straw on the floor. The baby was still encased in the birth sac, a clear bubble; it wasn’t moving. Daniel pulled the membrane away from the nose and mouth, and began to rub the tiny body.

“Is it dead?” Joey asked, holding on to Leah’s raincoat.

The mother goat nosed the kid.

Daniel kept massaging the baby. Lifting the head, he scooped out the mouth and wiped the nose clean. “He’s tired, poor little thing,” Daniel explained softly. He picked up a handful of hay and began to rub the damp hide briskly. “Sometimes, all it takes is—”

The baby choked, coughed and let out a wail. The doe pushed past Daniel and began to lick her second newborn. In minutes, the tiny newborn was on its feet and jostling the older twin for a turn at the mother’s teats.

“You saved them,” Leah said, getting to her feet. “I didn’t think…”

“Ya,” Joey agreed, returning the flashlight to Leah. “You saved them.” He knelt beside the little goats and petted first one and then the other.

“The mother might have been able to deliver it.” Daniel didn’t want to appear to take too much credit for doing what he’d been trained to do. But secretly, he was thrilled. He’d felt that way whenever he’d seen a new life come into the world. It never failed to strengthen his faith in God. How could anyone watch a newborn take a deep breath, look around and not see God’s wonderful plan? He allowed himself a deep sigh of satisfaction and pulled off the gloves.

“I think the brunt of the storm has passed.” Leah listened for a moment. “I think it’s safe to go out again. We should get Joey home to his mother.”

“But the goats,” the boy protested. “The bad wolf might come and—”

“We’ll lock the gate,” Leah assured him. “The goats will be fine until the farmer comes tomorrow.” She took Joey’s hand. “Daniel?”

“It’s still pretty nasty out there,” he said, glancing into the dark as he grabbed his wet jacket. The rain was still coming down, though not as hard as before. “Maybe you and Joey should stay here while I go for—”

Leah laughed, her flashlight beam steady on the gate. “And do you remember the way back to the Beachy farm? Or will we have to send a search party out for you?”

He chuckled and looked down at his wet shoes. “You’re probably right.”

“I am. Now come on…we’ll go together. All three of us.”

“I guess we do make a pretty good team,” Daniel dared. He liked the sound of her laughter. She was teasing him, but not in a mocking way. She was teasing as a friend might tease another friend. It gave him a good feeling; he’d made a good friend in Seven Poplars. He had a big family, but in their travels it hadn’t always been easy to make friends and keep them. Leah was a special young woman, and he hoped he’d see her again after tonight.

The walk back to Joey’s house didn’t seem as far as it had on the way out. Another search party met up with them in the pasture. Joey’s uncle was with them, and he’d whooped for joy and picked the boy up and carried him back to the house on his shoulders.

At the Beachy house, the adults and most of the children were still awake. Men stood on the porch and outside the back door drinking cups of steaming black coffee, and someone thrust a cup into Daniel’s hand. Joey was hugged and fussed over and trundled off into the house by his mother and a gaggle of women. Leah was caught up in the crowd and vanished along with the boy.

“Good work for a city boy,” Samuel Mast said as he slapped Daniel on the back. He was grinning. Everyone was.

“Leah Yoder deserves the credit,” Daniel insisted. “She was the one who thought to go where the hay was stored. The weather had gotten so bad, I thought we should turn back.”

“But if the boy wasn’t hurt, why didn’t he run home before it got dark?” A bearded Amish man stuck his hand out and Daniel shook it. “Roman Byler,” he said. “I own the chair shop down the road.”

Daniel began to explain about the dog that Joey thought was a wolf that had chased him and the pregnant goat. Before he knew it, Joey’s mother was ushering Daniel into the house and waving him to a place at the table. Other men were already there, eating sandwiches and vegetable soup.

“To warm your insides,” Joey’s father said.

Daniel hadn’t thought he was hungry, but after the first bite, he remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything since he’d stopped for lunch on the interstate at about one o’clock. After the mishap at the rest stop, when he’d left his coat, he’d ended up running late and hadn’t had time to stop and eat before he reached Seven Poplars. The ham sandwich was good, and the soup delicious. He hadn’t had a better meal since he’d last sat at his mother’s table.

The large kitchen was overflowing with men and women, most talking to each other in Pennsylvania Dutch, laughing and joking. Daniel was surprised by how at home he felt here among these people, even though he didn’t speak their language. But the one person he kept looking for he didn’t see. He’d wanted to tell Leah how much he appreciated her help and what a great job she’d done. Soon the sun would be coming up, and he was tired. He hated to leave without saying goodbye to Leah.

Finally, when the men began to take their leave, Daniel stood, thanked his host and hostess and made his way out to where he’d left his pickup truck. Buggies were rolling out of the farmyard, and men, hands in pockets, walked off into the soft darkness.

He was disappointed that he hadn’t seen Leah, but he knew he should go. Even though his aunt knew where he was, she’d be worried about him. He put his hand on the driver’s door handle and was about to get into his truck when Leah appeared from around the back of the pickup.

“A goodnight to you, Daniel Steiner,” she said.

He looked up at her. “Excuse me?”

“I said goodnight to you, Daniel Steiner,” she repeated.

“I’m not Daniel Steiner.”

“You’re not?” Leah sounded confused. “But I thought you were Caroline’s cousin and—”

“Oh,” he said, understanding the mixup. “Caroline is my cousin. She’s a Steiner, but her mother is my aunt. I’m a Brown, Daniel Brown.”

“Daniel Brown.” Her pretty blue eyes widened. “The Daniel Brown…the speaker we were supposed to hear tonight?”

“That’s me.” Feeling awkward, he slipped his hands into his pockets. He really liked Leah, so much so that he didn’t want to say goodbye. “We’re going to reschedule for another night this coming week. I hope you…you and your friends can come back.”

“You’re the Daniel Brown—the hero who saved that boy from the mob?”

“Hardly a hero,” Daniel protested.

“I didn’t know…” She hesitated. “Now I feel foolish. I spent the whole night with you and I never asked you about your travels. I never…” She stopped and started again. “I really feel foolish.”

“Don’t. It was a natural mistake.” He struggled to find the right thing to say. He didn’t want her to walk away feeling embarrassed. “I’ll be looking for you—at the presentation. I hope you aren’t disappointed.”

“Ne,” Leah said. “You couldn’t disappoint anyone, Daniel Brown. Least of all me.”

“I’ll see you there, then?”

“Leah?” A woman called from the porch. “Are you ready?”

“Ya,” she answered. “Coming.” She smiled at him. “I’m glad you were with me tonight.”

“Me, too.”

“What you said before,” she murmured shyly. “I agree. We made a good team.”

“We did,” he concurred. And then she turned and hurried off, leaving him standing there staring after her and wishing she wasn’t going.

Chapter Four

The following morning, as golden rays of April sunlight spilled through the bedroom window, Leah sighed and snuggled deeper beneath the crisp blue and white Bear’s Paw quilt that had been her Christmas gift from her eldest sister, Johanna. Below Leah’s window, from a perch on the top rail of the garden fence, a wayward rooster crowed. Just a few more minutes, Leah thought, burrowing under her pillow. All I want is a few more…

A high-pitched giggle pierced her groggy haze. “You a-wake, Leah? Mam made pancakes!”

Leah caught the scent of fresh coffee, felt the mattress bounce and groaned. It had been nearly daylight when she’d finally gotten to bed, and she couldn’t have had more than three hours’ sleep.

“An’ bacon!” proclaimed the cheerful voice.

Leah opened one eye and smiled into the round, red-cheeked face hovering only inches from her own. “Morning, Susanna-banana,” she mumbled.

Her sister giggled again. “I’m not a banana. Get up, silly. I’m hungry.” She pushed a mug of coffee under Leah’s nose. “Brought you coffee.” It came out sounding more like toffee, but Leah had no trouble understanding Susanna’s sometimes childish speech.

“You’re always hungry,” Leah replied, but it was impossible to remain out of sorts with Susanna, even too early on a visiting Sunday when there was no church and they could sleep in. Her sister was such a sweet-natured soul that simply being near her made Leah smile. “Thanks for the coffee. Tell Mam I’ll be downstairs in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“’Kay.” Susanna’s mouth widened in a grin as she scooted off the bed, carefully sliding the brimming cup to the end of the nightstand. Then she trotted out of the bedroom and down the hall toward the stairs.

Leah stretched and rubbed her eyes before reaching for the coffee. As always, Susanna had sweetened it to her own taste and drowned it in heavy cream, but it was hot and bracing and washed some of the sleep out of Leah’s brain. Yawning, she padded barefoot to the window and threw up the sash. The sun was already high, and the sky was a robin’s-egg blue without a hint of clouds. Spread out before her were Mam’s kitchen garden, rich farm fields and fruit trees in the first blossom of spring.

“Thank you, God,” she murmured as she breathed in the sweet smell of newly turned soil and fresh-cut grass. “Thank you for keeping Joey safe through the stormy night and letting us find him.” Closing her eyes, she offered a simple and silent prayer, asking His blessing on her family and community and for guidance through the coming day.

Almost instantly, a sense of contentment and pure joy washed over her. How was it possible that last night, an evening that had started so fearful, had turned out to be so wonderful?

Not only had Joey been returned to his family without harm, but she’d met a dynamic stranger and helped him deliver a new life into the world. Goose bumps rose on Leah’s bare arms as she exhaled softly. Nothing like that ever happened in Seven Poplars, but it had happened last night, and she’d been part of it. She couldn’t wait to tell her sisters about her adventure, especially Johanna. Of all of them, Johanna shared her sometimes rebellious spirit and would understand best how she felt.

Leah had loved coming home after almost a year in Ohio taking care of Grossmama, but things here had quickly fallen back into the ordinary. Not exactly boring… There were always chores to do and new challenges to face, especially now that Anna had married Samuel in a whirlwind romance, leaving only Susanna, Rebecca, Irwin and her at home to help Mam. But after the hustle and bustle of Grossmama’s more liberal Amish community, her new Mennonite friends, and the relative independence she and Rebecca had experienced in Ohio, it wasn’t easy settling in under Mam’s authority again. And she did have to admit to herself that sometimes Seven Poplar’s conservative customs seemed a little old-fashioned.

So many changes, Leah thought wistfully. When she and Rebecca had left for Ohio last year, the house had been bursting with unmarried sisters, and when they’d returned, three had found husbands, and Mam had hired and then practically adopted Irwin, a thirteen-year-old orphaned boy who had lived with Joey Beachy’s family. It all took a little getting used to.

Not that her beloved sisters were far away; Miriam and Ruth were just across the field in the little farmhouse with their new husbands, and Anna and Samuel’s farm was next door. But they had their own families and households, and it wasn’t the same as waking up every morning to a gaggle of giggling girls or having so many to share secrets and gossip with after the lights had been blown out at night. Plus, Grandmother Yoder, no longer able to live alone, and her sister, Aunt Jezebel, were now part of Mam’s household.

Grossmama was going to live with Anna and Samuel this summer. Anna had wanted her to move in sooner, but Mam had been firm. She’d insisted that Anna needed a few months to adjust to being a wife and mother to Samuel’s five children before taking on Grossmama, no matter how well the two of them got on together. That would leave Aunt Jezebel here, but compared to her sister, Aunt Jezzy was a dream.

“What’s taking you so long?” Rebecca called from the doorway. “You aren’t even dressed.” She came in and plopped onto the unmade bed. “Grossmama won’t be happy if her pancakes are cold.”

Leah rolled her eyes and forced back a snappy response. “Sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to wait breakfast on me this morning.” She went to the corner where her clothing hung and took down a fresh shift and a lavender-colored dress.

“Mam said not to wear that,” Rebecca said. “Wear your good blue one. Aunt Martha thinks that the lavender is too short, and she’s bound to come visiting today. She’ll want to hear all about that Mennonite preacher you were running around with in the dark last night.”

Leah wrinkled her nose. “Since when does Mam take Aunt Martha’s advice on what we should wear?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I’m just telling you what Mam said. I think Mam thinks it’s too short, too.”

Leah’s mouth puckered as she hung the lavender dress with its neat tailoring back on the hook and took down the dark blue one her mother had given her for her birthday. Leah liked the blue. It went well with her eyes and her dark auburn hair, but she was particularly fond of the lavender dress she and her Mennonite friend, Sophie Steiner, had cut and stitched. Sophie’s mother had a new electric-powered Singer that practically sewed a garment for you. Maybe the lavender was a little shorter than the blue dress, but it covered her knees and the neckline and sleeves were modest enough to satisfy even the bishop.

“And your good kapp,” Rebecca added. “No scarf today.”

Leah sighed. She and Rebecca had spent so much time together in the last year that they should have been as close as Ruth and Miriam, but somehow, this sister always brought out the worst in her. She loved Rebecca dearly, but they were just too different to have the relationship she had with Johanna or dear Anna. Leah loved to be doing something with her hands: picking blueberries, making jam or selling vegetables to the English tourists at Spence’s Auction. By contrast, Rebecca was happiest at home, drinking tea with Mam or Aunt Jezebel, reading a prayer book or writing a letter for publication in the Budget.

Rebecca never questioned the rules. She’d always been the good girl of the family, the serious one. She’d been baptized at age sixteen, before she’d even ventured into the outside world. It never occurred to Rebecca to be cross with Aunt Martha for her criticizing or bossy ways. In Leah’s mind, Rebecca was simply too meek for her own good. And worse, Rebecca couldn’t understand why Leah sometimes longed to kick out of the traces, and why, at almost twenty-one, she had yet to make the lifelong commitment to join the Amish Church.

Leah gathered her brush, kapp and her clean underclothes and started for the bathroom. “I’ll be quick,” she promised her sister. “Tell Mam, five minutes.”

“What was he like?” Rebecca asked.

“Who?”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “You know who. The Mennonite preacher. Was he as fast as they say?”

Annoyed, Leah stopped short and glanced back over her shoulder. “As fast as who says? Who around here knows him well enough to say something like that? That he’s fast?”

Her sister smiled. “It’s what they say about all Mennonite boys, isn’t it? People say that they’re wild, that they try to take liberties with Amish girls.”

“That’s nonsense. And Daniel isn’t a boy. He must be twenty-five, maybe older.”

Rebecca snickered. “And it’s just Daniel now, is it? But then you probably got to know him well out there in the woods. He didn’t try to steal a kiss, did he?”

“No. He didn’t. And Daniel Brown’s not a preacher. He’s a nurse, a good one.”

“And you know that how?”

“Because he helped a baby goat to be born when we were out looking for Joey. It was stuck, a leg tangled. The nanny would have died and the kid with her if Daniel hadn’t known what to do.”

“So he’s not a preacher. But he is a missionary. He must have been lots of places, known lots of English girls. Fancy foreign girls, too.”

“I suppose he has, but he was nice. Is nice. And when he gives his program, I’m going to be there to hear it.”

“If Mam lets you go again.”

Leah’s brow creased as she tried to hide the annoyance she felt at Rebecca’s words. “Ne, sister,” she answered softly. “That’s not what I said. I said I’m going to hear Daniel’s talk and see the pictures of Spain and Morocco. I’ll be twenty-one in a few weeks, and I’m an adult. I think I can decide for myself if I’m going to hear a missionary speak about his experiences in spreading God’s word, without asking for my mother’s permission.”

Rebecca slid off the bed, moisture gleaming in her dark eyes. “I’ve made you angry.”

Leah shook her head. “Not angry.”

“Ya.” A single tear blossomed on Rebecca’s cheek. “I never say the right thing to you, Leah. I try, but it always comes out wrong. I worry about you.”

Leah opened her arms and Rebecca came into them. Leah enveloped her in a hug. “Worry about me? Why? Because I hunted for a lost child last night—”

“Ne.” Her sister switched from English to Pennsylvania Dutch. “You have a good heart. It was wrong of me to tease you about the Mennonite boy. I only did it because I’m frightened that we might lose you.”

“Lose me?” Leah pulled away to look down into her sister’s face. Rebecca was a small girl, like Miriam, not tall like Mam’s side of the family. “How could you lose me?”

Rebecca clasped her hand and squeezed it hard. “You move too easily in the outside world. Since we were children, you always have. The English don’t make you uncomfortable, as they do me.”

“But why should that frighten you?”

“We’re Plain folk—we’re a people apart. Do you forget the martyrs who died that we might worship according to our beliefs?”

Leah leaned close and brushed a kiss on her sister’s temple. “How could I forget? Being who I am—who we are—is bred into me, blood and bone. Surely, listening to a Mennonite tell about his mission work doesn’t change that.”

“It’s not just that.” Another tear followed the first. “It was the Mennonite friends you made out in Ohio. You went to their charity auctions, and you went to the fair with Jeanine and Sophie. And at least once, you helped out at their bake sale for their church.”

“I did, but that was to raise money for a mission in the Ukraine. They wanted to send books and school supplies to orphans in a remote town. I wasn’t attending worship services. And going to a fair to look at animals and eat cotton candy doesn’t mean that I’ve forsaken my own faith,” Leah protested. “I haven’t.”

Rebecca’s chin quivered. “Everyone thought that you’d start classes for baptism this spring, but you didn’t. Even Ruth is concerned about you. She and Aunt Jezzy were talking about it last week after church.”

“And Mam? What does she say?”

Her sister sighed. “You know Mam. She just smiles and says, ‘All in God’s time.’ But it’s past time, Leah. You’re the prettiest girl in Kent County, but you’ve never had a steady boyfriend, and you don’t even let any boys drive you home from frolics and singings.”

Leah wrinkled her nose again as she thought of Menno Swartzentruber, who’d tried to get her to ride home in his buggy last Sunday. “Maybe I haven’t met the right boy. The ones around here seem too young and flighty.” Menno was a hard worker, but his idea of a good joke was piling straw bales across the road to stop traffic in the dark or filling a paper bag with cow manure and leaving it on an Englisher’s porch. No, she couldn’t see herself dating Menno.

“And what about Jake King from the fourth district church? He’s what? Twenty-eight or twenty-nine? He likes you, and you can’t think Jake’s too young.”

“I like Jake—he’s a good man. But his wife’s only been dead six months. I wouldn’t feel right walking out with Jake so soon after his loss.”

“You see how you are.” Rebecca stepped away and straightened her kapp, which had come loose when they’d hugged. “You always have a good excuse. But wearing that Ohio-style dress doesn’t help. You know how people are—how they will talk. They start to wonder if you are drifting away from us.”

“It sounds as though you’ve been talking to Aunt Martha,” Leah said. “Or Dorcas.”

“Aunt Martha has a sharp tongue,” Rebecca admitted. “But she means well. She knows Dat would have been worried about you.”

“You miss him a lot, don’t you?” Leah murmured. Their father had been dead almost three years, but the hurt hadn’t faded. Rebecca had taken the loss especially hard.

“I do.”

“Me, too,” she admitted softly.

“Leah! Leah!”

Both Leah and Rebecca turned toward the stairs as the clatter of footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Leah! There’s a man!” Susanna’s eyes were wide, her cheeks red with excitement. “In a truck! In the kitchen!”

“A truck in Mam’s kitchen?” Leah teased.

“Ne!” Susanna was breathless from running up the steps. “An Englisher man. He wants…” She inhaled deeply. “He wants you!”

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