The single mom’s second chance...

To become one of the Brides of Lost Creek!

Widow Rebecca Mast returns to her Amish community with her son and a dream—to own a quilt shop. Carpenter Daniel King is determined to help Rebecca and revive their childhood friendship. But as he bonds with her son, Rebecca’s afraid the secret she’s been keeping will be revealed. Can Daniel convince Rebecca he’s a man she can trust—and love?

A lifetime spent in rural Pennsylvania and her Pennsylvania Dutch heritage led MARTA PERRY to write about the Plain People who add so much richness to her home state. Marta has seen nearly sixty of her books published, with over six million books in print. She and her husband live in a centuries-old farmhouse in a central Pennsylvania valley. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, traveling, baking, or enjoying her six beautiful grandchildren.

Also By Marta Perry

Love Inspired

Brides of Lost Creek

Second Chance Amish Bride

The Wedding Quilt Bride

An Amish Family Christmas:

Heart of Christmas

Amish Christmas Blessings:

The Midwife’s Christmas Surprise

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Wedding Quilt Bride

Marta Perry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08421-5

THE WEDDING QUILT BRIDE

© 2018 Martha Johnson

Published in Great Britain 2018

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

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

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

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“When I came back, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t lean on anyone else. I would stand on my own two feet.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Daniel said, “except that it’s not the Amish way. We help one another, as you know very well. You wouldn’t hesitate to help me if I needed it.”

Rebecca’s arguments were being cut from under her, and she struggled to find a solution they both could accept.

Daniel crossed the distance between them and stood smiling at her. “What’s wrong? Can’t find anything else to say?” His voice teased her gently.

“Suppose we do this. You let me help. Surely there are things I can do. And you don’t turn down other jobs to work for me.”

“Deal,” Daniel said. He grinned at her. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She’d tell him it was, but he wouldn’t understand. None of them would, because they didn’t know what her life had been like with James.

She had to walk away from the past. She had to accept Daniel’s help to do so. He held the door open to her new life, but she had to pass through, and she would.

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

—Proverbs 3:5–6

Dear Reader,

I’m so happy you decided to pick up the second book in my Brides of Lost Creek series. I had such a good time visiting the Lost Creek Amish again for a new love story, and I hope you enjoyed reading it.

The new book captures the story of Daniel King, an Amish carpenter, who is determined to remain a bachelor. Daniel has what he feels are good reasons to stay away from a romantic involvement, but all of his ideas are put to the test when his childhood playmate Rebecca Mast returns to the farm next door after the death of her husband. Sorrow and pain have changed Rebecca drastically from the happy girl he knew, and he feels compelled to help her despite the danger that his childhood friend might become his forever love.

The Amish community of Lost Creek is based on several Amish groups here in central Pennsylvania, most of them daughter settlements to the Lancaster County Amish. They’ve settled here for the less expensive farmland and the welcoming environment. Most of my story ideas begin with a place, and I love it when I can write about my own home area, the place I love most.

Please let me know if you enjoyed my story. You can reach me via my website, www.martaperry.com, on my Facebook page, www.Facebook.com/martaperrybooks, and via email at marta@martaperry.com. I’d be happy to reply and to send you a signed bookmark and my brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes.

All the best,

Marta Perry

This story is dedicated to my husband, Brian, with much love.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Bible Verse

Dear Reader

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Two days after Rebecca Mast’s return to her childhood home in Lost Creek, she walked down the lane of the family farm toward her future. Her black widow’s dress contrasted starkly with the pale greens and bright yellows of a sunny spring day in the Pennsylvania countryside. Her son, six-year-old Elijah, trudged next to her, holding tight to her hand rather than skipping and hopping ahead down the lane like one of his cousins would.

It was early yet, she assured herself. Surely soon he’d forget the darkness of the past few years and be like any other Amish child his age. That was the heartfelt prayer of her heart for her son. As for her...well, the return to normal would take longer, if it ever happened.

But at least she was home, with her family around her, and today she would take the first step toward a new life for her son and herself. That alone was something to make her heart thankful.

The two-story frame house came into view ahead of them, standing at the point where the farm lane met the country road. When her mammi had written that old Mr. Evans had gone to live with his daughter and put the house up for sale, she’d known exactly what she wanted to do with the money she’d receive for selling the farm she and James had owned in Ohio.

The down payment James’s brother, John, had given her had been enough to cover the cost of the house. John’s continuing monthly payments would pay to remodel the old place into a secure, peaceful home for her and Elijah, and the quilt shop she’d have in the downstairs rooms would support them. That was the extent of her dreams for the future, and it was enough.

Daniel King stood, waiting by the back porch, leaning against one of the posts as if he could wait there all day for her, if need be. As they came closer, her stomach tightened as she searched the tall, broad figure for a glimpse of the neighbor boy who’d been her childhood playmate. She didn’t find him, nor did she see the gangly teenager who’d told her all about his crushes on the girls in their rumspringa group.

Daniel had grown into a strong, sturdy-looking man. It was her own uncertainty that made her long to find something in him that was familiar. The rich, glossy brown of his hair was a bit darker now, and the fact that he didn’t have the traditional Amish beard allowed her to see his stubborn jaw.

He’d always had that stubbornness. His golden-brown eyes had a glint of kindness that she felt sure reflected his kind heart, and his lips curled in a familiar grin. Her tension evaporated, and she smiled.

“Rebecca!” He came forward now to greet them, taking her hands in both of his for a momentary squeeze. “It’s wonderful gut to see you again.” His face sobered. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She nodded. She had a stock of reasonable comments to use when someone commented on her widowhood, but they didn’t seem appropriate for Daniel, who’d known her so well.

Daniel didn’t seem to notice. He’d focused on Lige, who was hiding behind her skirt, and he squatted down to eye level.

“You must be Elijah. I’ve heard about you from your grossmammi. She told me you just turned six. Is that right?”

Lige, clutching the fold of Rebecca’s skirt, gave the smallest of nods. Fortunately, Daniel didn’t seem to expect more.

“I’m Daniel,” he said. “I live over there.” He pointed across the field to the neighboring farm. “When your mammi and I were your age, we used to play together every day.”

Still no response. She tried to think of something to say to pull his attention from Lige, but Daniel was already rising, his smile intact. “Ach, it’s hard to get to know a lot of new folks at once, ain’t so?”

“Yah, it is,” she said, grateful for his understanding. “Sam tells me that your carpentry business is a wonderful success these days.” Sam, Rebecca’s older brother, had been best friends with Daniel’s older brother, Caleb. It had seemed natural for her and Daniel to pair up, as well.

“Ach, I wouldn’t say great, but it’s doing okay. It doesn’t give me much time to help Caleb with the dairy farm, but I do what I can. And he’s got Onkel Zeb and young Thomas Stoltz to work with him, too.”

“I’m sure he needs it, running such a big dairy operation.” Daad had told her how Caleb had increased his herd until it was one of the larger ones in the valley. “I’d be most happy if you have time to take on this job for me.”

She glanced at the house, trying to picture it the way it was in her dreams. With Daniel’s help, that dream could be a reality.

“Let’s go in and have a look at what you want done,” Daniel suggested. He held out a hand as she reached the three steps up to the back porch. “Mind the treads, now. There’s a loose board there I’ll fix right off.”

She nodded, turning to help Lige up to the porch. “It’s a little bit run-down now,” she told him. “But Daniel will help us turn it into a gut home for us.”

Lige darted a cautious sideways glance at Daniel, but he still didn’t speak. She tried to suppress a sigh. If she’d realized earlier the harm James’s behavior was doing to Elijah...but what choice did she have? James had been his father, and there was no getting away from that.

The back door opened into the kitchen, and they stepped inside.

“The cabinets need some repair,” Daniel said, swinging a door open and closed. “But they’re good solid wood—none of those thin layers they use sometimes now.”

Rebecca was busy picturing the kitchen with the cabinets freshly painted white and seedlings growing in pots on the wide, sunny windowsills. “The gas range is perfect,” she said. “But I’ll have to replace the electric refrigerator with a gas one.”

“I don’t know much about the electrics, but there’s a man I worked with on a few Englisch houses who does that kind of work. He could take out all the electrics for you.”

“Wonderful gut.” Surely the fact that things were falling into place meant that her plans were in accord with the gut Lord’s will. “Our table will fit in this space, won’t it, Lige?”

He nodded but hadn’t yet let go of her skirt.

“When do your things arrive?” Daniel pulled himself out from behind the refrigerator, a cobweb clinging to his straw hat.

“In a few days.” Smiling, she reached up to lift the cobweb away, inadvertently brushing his cheek. She withdrew her hand quickly, trying to ignore the way it tingled from the brief contact. “The family will store everything for us until we can move in here.”

The back of the house held the kitchen, a pantry and two smaller rooms. One would be their living room and the other a storeroom or workroom. Swinging the door open, Rebecca stepped into the room at the front of the house. Her breath caught.

The room extended across the whole front of the house, and sunshine poured in through the windows to lie across the wide-plank floors. The back wall would be perfect for shelves, and she could have a display area of quilts on one side and stocks of fabrics and notions on the other.

“You look happy,” Daniel said, his brown eyes warm. “Is this going to be your living room?”

“No.” She swung in a slow circle, taking it all in. “This will be what I’ve been dreaming of. This will be my quilt shop.”

She knew her happiness had to be shining in her face. And when she looked at Daniel, she saw her anticipation reflected in his eyes, crinkling as they shared her feeling. There, at last, was her old friend.

* * *

Daniel stood still for a moment, transfixed by the sheer joy on Rebecca’s face. He couldn’t help but share it. Obviously, this quilt shop was important to her, but why? So far as he knew, she hadn’t had a shop in the past.

He didn’t doubt that she was a wonderful quilter. Rebecca’s sister-in-law, Leah, had shown off the baby quilts Rebecca had made and sent for each of her young ones. Rebecca’s mother had a gift for designing patterns, and she must have inherited it.

“Can you make this ready first?” She swung toward him, all eagerness. “I need to open the shop as soon as possible.”

Need? That was a funny way of putting it. He’d heard that Rebecca sold the farm she and her husband had owned in Ohio. He’d think that would have given her enough that she wouldn’t have to rush into business for herself.

Still, it might be that she felt she had to have something to occupy her mind and heart. Her husband had died less than six months ago, and grieving was hard—he knew that as well as anyone.

“I have plenty of time for your job,” he said. And if he didn’t, he’d make time to accommodate her, especially if it kept her looking the way she did now.

He couldn’t deny that he’d been shocked when he first saw her, so thin and pale, with an almost-haunted look darkening the blue of her eyes. Rebecca had always been as bright as a ray of sunshine with her golden hair, rosy cheeks and the sparkle in her clear blue eyes. He nearly hadn’t recognized his friend, and that had set a distance between them.

Already she was withdrawing into herself again, her face becoming strained. But at least now he’d seen the old Rebecca, if just for a moment.

“So, you’ll tell me what you want done in here, and I’ll do the measurements and work out a plan.” He glanced toward the front door that led directly into the room. “We’d best check out the front entrance as well, if your customers are going to come in that way.”

Rebecca nodded, looking around the room as if seeing it looking very different. “I’ll want tables to hold bolts of fabric on this side,” she said, gesturing. “And then some open space where I can have a bed to show how a quilt will look and a counter near the door for checking out.”

Daniel made notes on his pad that no one would ever understand but him. “What about the walls?”

“They’ll need to have several different-sized racks to hold quilts, crib quilts, wall hangings and table runners.” She unfolded a sheet of paper, and they both bent their heads over it. “See, here are the kinds and sizes I need and where I thought maybe they could go.”

She’d printed it all up for him with sketches. “So neat,” he said. “Just like your schoolwork used to be.” He glanced at the boy, standing quiet and solemn next to his mammi. Did he ever laugh? “When we were in school together, your mammi had the best printing of anyone in the school. Whenever a sign had to be made, we’d get her to do it.”

Lige nodded, as if he didn’t doubt it, but still he didn’t smile or speak. Well, he’d get a smile out of the boy even if he had to stand on his head to do it.

He turned to Rebecca. It wouldn’t be bad to get another smile from her, as well. “Do you want to make decisions about the rest of the house today, or just focus on the shop for now?”

“Just the shop today,” she said quickly. “It’s more important than getting moved in right away.”

“If I know your mamm and daad, they’d be happy to have you stay with them in the grossdaadi house for always, ain’t so?”

Her lips curved a bit, but her blue eyes were still dark and serious. “That’s what they say, but we shouldn’t impose on them.”

Now all he could do was stare at her shuttered face. “Impose? Since when is it imposing to have you home again? Your folks have been so happy since they knew you were coming that they’re acting ten years younger. Sam and Leah and their young ones have been marking the days off on a calendar because they’re so eager. You’re not imposing.”

Rebecca stiffened, seeming to put some distance between them. “It’s better that I stand on my own feet. I’m not a girl any longer.” She looked as if she might want to add that it wasn’t his business.

No, it wasn’t. And she certain sure wasn’t the girl he remembered. His Rebecca, so open and trusting, would never have doubted her welcome. Grief alone didn’t seem enough to account for the changes in her. Had there been some other problem, something he didn’t know about in her time away or in her marriage?

He’d best mind his tongue and keep his thoughts on business, he told himself. He was the last person to know anything about marriage, and that was the way he wanted it. Or if not wanted, he corrected himself honestly, at least the way it had to be.

“I guess we should get busy measuring for all these things, so I’ll know what I’m buying when I go to the mill.” Pulling out his steel measure, he focused on the boy. “Mind helping me by holding one end of this, Lige?”

The boy hesitated for a moment, studying him as if looking at the question from all angles. Then he nodded, taking a few steps toward Daniel, who couldn’t help feeling a little spurt of triumph.

Carefully, not wanting to spook Lige, Daniel held out an end of the tape. “If you’ll hold this end right here on the corner, I’ll measure the whole wall. Then we can see how many racks we’ll be able to put up.”

Rebecca, who had taken a step forward as if to interfere, stopped and nodded at her son. “That’s right. You can help with getting our shop ready.”

Daniel measured, checking a second time before writing the figures down in his notebook. His gaze slid toward Lige again. It wondered him how the boy came to be so quiet and solemn. He certain sure wasn’t like his mammi had been when she was young. Could be he was still having trouble adjusting to his daadi’s dying, he supposed.

“Okay, gut. Now, you let the end go, and I’ll show you how it pops back to me. Ready?” Lige put his end on the floor and took a cautious step away, as if not sure what to expect.

“Now.” Daniel pushed the button, and the steel measure came zooming back, rerolling itself. “There. Did you ever use one of these before?”

Lige shook his head and hurried over to Daniel without hesitation. “Can we do it some more?”

“Sure thing. Let’s measure how wide the window is, because we wouldn’t want a quilt to cover it, would we?”

Without being told, Lige pulled the end out so that they could measure the width of the windowsill. When they’d finished, Daniel held out the tape measure to the boy. “Do you want to roll it up this time?”

Lige came eagerly, his shyness of Daniel forgotten. Daniel put his large hand over the boy’s small one, showing him the button. “Now, push.”

Lige did, and the tape measure performed its vanishing trick again. He looked up at Daniel, and the sight Daniel had been looking for appeared. It was tentative and a little stiff, but it was a genuine smile.

“Did you see, Mammi? I did it all by myself.”

“Yah, I saw.” Some of the color had come back into Rebecca’s pale cheeks, and she met Daniel’s gaze with one that was so filled with fierce maternal love that it startled him. “Denke, Daniel.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Somehow that simple incident seemed to dissolve much of the strangeness between them. They worked their way around the room, measuring and talking about what she wanted in the shop, until finally Daniel squatted down and put his notebook on his knee to figure out an estimate.

He stole a covert glance at Rebecca, who was saying something to her son. He hadn’t missed the slight apprehension in her face when he’d talked about the supplies they’d need. Was the money a problem?

It shouldn’t be, not if she’d just sold a thriving farm, but how did he know? He’d do the work gladly for nothing in the name of their old friendship, but he knew Rebecca wouldn’t hear of it. That steely independence of hers was new, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Finally he had an approximate materials cost worked out. He stood, catching that trace of apprehension in her eyes.

“How much will it cost to do what I want?”

In answer, he held out the notebook page. “That’s an approximate guess as to the cost of the materials. Unless the mill has upped its prices for a board foot,” he said. “Just joking,” he added quickly, not sure she was in the mood for humor.

“But that’s not including your work,” she said. “I should give you the whole amount...”

“Not up front,” he said, interrupting her. “You pay for the initial materials, so I can start. Then you can pay my labor when the job is finished.” Seeing the objection rising in her face, he added firmly, “That’s how it’s always done, Rebecca. If that outlay for materials is more than you can manage at one time, we can always break the job into smaller units.”

“No, no, that’s okay.” She opened a small bag and began counting out the money into his hand.

He didn’t miss the fact that there was very little left in the bag when she was done, and it troubled him. But when she looked up at him with the smile he remembered, it chased other thoughts away.

“I’ll go to the mill first thing tomorrow, and then I can start work in the afternoon.” He glanced at Lige. “You’ll bring my helper back, ain’t so?”

The boy’s smile rewarded him. “Can I, Mammi?” He tugged on her apron.

“Yah, as long as you listen to Daniel and do just as he says.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Sehr gut,” Daniel said. “Tomorrow then.” Shouldering his tool bag, he headed out.

Rebecca and her son followed him to the porch and stood there, watching him go. As he cut across the field toward home, he took a quick look back and again was assailed by that sense of something he didn’t understand. The two of them looked oddly lonely, standing there on the porch of that decrepit house.

Rebecca was home, but he sensed she had brought some troubles with her. As for him...well, he didn’t have answers. He just had a lot of questions.

* * *

Supper in Leah’s kitchen was a lively time, with the long table surrounded by cheerful faces—Leah, Sam, their children, her mamm and daad, and now her and Lige. Lige, sitting next to her, had been engrossed in looking from one to another during the meal, his small face gradually relaxing as he realized all the chatter was normal and accepted.

It had been normal when she was growing up, as well. It never would have occurred to any of her siblings that their contributions wouldn’t be welcome. But life with James, especially after his accident, had been another story entirely.

At least Lige was beginning to lose the tension that told her so clearly he was waiting for an explosion. He actually laughed at something one of his cousins said, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

With the last crumb of apple crisp consumed and the silent prayer at the end of the meal said, the boys began getting up from the table to do their chores. Sam, who’d been saying something to Daad, glanced up as they headed out the door.

“Joshua.” He raised his voice to call his eldest back.

And Lige cringed, wincing back in his chair, his face strained and fearful.

No one moved. Rebecca could hear their indrawn breaths, could see the comprehension dawning on the faces of the adults. Rebecca bent over Lige, speaking softly.

“Hush now. It’s all right. Onkel Sam just wants to tell Joshua something.”

Leah seemed to get a grip on herself first. “Yah, he wants to tell Joshua to take Lige out with him and let him help. Ain’t so, Sam?”

“For sure,” Sam said.

Kindhearted Joshua came and squatted down by Lige’s seat. “Want to komm help me feed the buggy horses? You can measure the oats, yah?” He spoke softly, holding out his hand to Lige.

Lige looked up at her, as if asking for guidance.

“You’ll like that,” she said, flashing a glance of thanks to her nephew. “Go along with Joshua and the other boys now.”

Lige slid off his chair, probably glad to get out of the kitchen. He took Joshua’s hand, and they went off together.

At a look from Leah, Sam and Daad went out, too.

“You girls make a start on the dishes now,” she said. “I want to show your aunt Rebecca some of my quilts.”

“Yah, you go on,” Mamm added. “I’ll look after things here.”

Mamm was obviously trying hard to erase the shock from her face. Maybe she needed time as much as Rebecca did just now.

Leah ushered Rebecca into the sewing room and opened a trunk to reveal the quilts inside. “You don’t have to look at these now,” she said. “I just thought you might want a reason to be by yourself for a minute.”

“Denke,” she murmured, feeling the blood mounting to her cheeks. “It must wonder you why...”

Leah touched her hand. “You don’t need to explain anything. But when you do want to talk, I’m here and ready to listen.” Leah put her arms around her for a quick, strong embrace. “I’m your sister now, ain’t so?” she murmured.

It was a struggle to hold back tears. Maybe it would be a relief to talk, but not now, not when the emotions were still raw, even after months.

“I’ll check on the girls,” Leah said, seeming to understand. “You take as long as you want.” She slipped out quickly.

Alone, Rebecca slid down on the floor next to the trunk, her hand resting on the Sunshine and Shadows quilt that lay on top. Sunshine and Shadows, she repeated silently. There had been mostly shadows for so long. She longed to believe the sunshine was coming back to their lives.

As for talking about it...how could she tell anyone? Mamm and Daadi hadn’t wanted her to marry James so quickly, to go so far away with someone they barely knew. But she’d been captivated by James’s charm and his lively, daring personality.

She didn’t know then about the quick temper that seemed to be a part of him. It had flared rarely in the first years of their marriage, and each time it did, she’d made excuses for him.

And then had come the accident. James’s daring had led him a little too far, determined to climb to the top of the windmill to repair it, unwilling to wait for someone to come help him. And annoyed with her when she tried to stop him.

So she’d stood, watching, wondering what made him so eager to take risks. Then... Her memory winced away from the image of him falling, falling...

Everyone, even the doctors, said he was fortunate to be alive. That his injuries would heal, and he’d be himself again.

But he wasn’t. After the injury to his head, James seemed to lose all control. His rages were terrifying. If she dared try to calm him, he’d turn on her. Lige had become a little mouse, always afraid, trying so hard not to do anything to bring on the anger. And she hadn’t been much better.

Until the day he’d almost struck Lige with his fist. Then she had found the courage to fight back. When his family seemed unable to help, she’d dared to go to the bishop.

Bishop Paul had been everything that was kind. He’d insisted that James go for treatment, making all the arrangements himself. For a time, the treatment helped. The rages became a thing of the past, and it had seemed a blessing to be able to hope again.

Then it had all fallen apart. James had lost his temper with a half-trained horse, determined to force it to obey. The animal had reared, striking out, and in a moment, James was gone.

Rebecca pressed her fingers to her eyes, willing the images away. James was gone, but the damage he’d done lived on after him, it seemed.

No. She forced herself to stand, to wipe the tears from her face. That was the past. It was over and done with. She and Lige had a new start here, and they would make the best of it. But she would never again make the mistake of trusting a man with their lives.

Chapter Two

When Daniel turned into the lane and drew the horse to a halt at the back door of Rebecca’s new house, the troubling thoughts about her returned in full force. Onkel Zeb, sitting next to him on the wagon seat, started to get down and then looked at him.

“Was ist letz? Is something wrong?”

“No, no.” He secured the lines and scolded himself for daydreaming. “It’s nothing. I can unload myself, if you have something else to do.” He’d appreciated the company on the trip to the hardware store and lumberyard for the materials he’d need for Rebecca’s job, but he didn’t want to keep his uncle working all day.

Onkel Zeb, as lean and tough as he always was, hopped down nimbly. “Nothing as interesting as this,” he said, heading for the back of the wagon. “I want to see what you and Rebecca are going to do to this place. Mason Evans let it go those last few years, that’s certain sure.”

“He didn’t seem to have much energy for it after his wife passed, did he? But we’ll get it fixed up fine.” He slid a couple of two-by-fours off the wagon and balanced them on his shoulder. “If you’ll get the door, I’ll take the bigger pieces in. Rebecca said she’d leave it unlocked for us.”

Nodding, Zeb stepped up to the porch and swung the door open. “I was hoping Rebecca would be here when we got back. I haven’t seen her yet. How is she looking?”

Daniel moved past him to start a stack of the lumber inside while he considered how to answer that question. “All right, I guess,” he muttered.

His uncle propped the door open before turning to give him a probing look. “Seems to me you’re not so sure about that, ain’t so?”

He should have known there was no getting away with evasions where Onkel Zeb was concerned. He’d been like a father to all three boys, especially after their mother left and their own daad just seemed to fall apart at the loss.

Don’t go down that road, he told himself. This is about Rebecca, not you.

“Truth to tell, I’m not sure.” He pulled another couple of posts out and hesitated. “She’s so thin and pale I almost didn’t know her. It’s not so long since her husband died, so I guess that’s natural, but...”

“But what?” Onkel Zeb leaned against the buggy, ready to listen as always.

Daniel frowned absently at the boards. “Seemed like her whole personality has changed from what she was. She was all tense and keyed up, and the boy... He seemed almost scared.”

“Of you?”

Daniel shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe of everything. Just didn’t seem right.” He eyed his uncle thoughtfully. “You and Josiah Fisher are pretty close. He say anything to you about Rebecca?”

Onkel Zeb hesitated so long Daniel thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally he spoke. “Josiah and Ida have been worried about Rebecca for a while now, her being so far away that they couldn’t help as much as they wanted when she had all this trouble.”

That wasn’t really an answer, and they both knew it. “So why did they start worrying to begin with?”

“What do you remember about when Rebecca got married?” Onkel Zeb answered the question with a question.

Daniel cast his mind back. “I remember she went away that summer—out to Ohio to help a cousin of hers who was moving. She stayed quite a time, and then we heard she’d met someone and was going to marry him.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Funny. We’d always been such gut friends, but she didn’t write to me about him at all.”

“That was the summer you were chasing after Betty Ann Stoltzfus,” Onkel Zeb put in. “Maybe you were too busy to pay much attention to what Rebecca was up to.”

Daniel had a moment’s gratitude for the fact that he’d broken it off with Betty Ann when he did. They wouldn’t have suited anyway, and it was not long afterward that his little brother, Aaron, took off for the Englisch world, tearing up his heart.

Onkel Zeb made a sound that expressed his general disapproval of Betty Ann. “Anyway, Josiah and Ida didn’t want her to get married so quick, especially to someone they hardly knew, who lived so far away. But she was determined, so they accepted the best they could.”

“Rebecca being the only daughter, I guess it’s natural they’d want her to stay close.” He picked up another armload of planks. It had begun to sound as if Onkel Zeb was doing a good bit of talking around the subject, maybe not wanting to repeat anything Josiah said about his daughter in confidence.

“Yah.” Zeb slid out some of the smaller pieces and a box of nails and followed him to the house. “Natural, like you say. They always thought maybe you and Rebecca would make a match of it, as close as you were.”

That startled him. He’d never imagined anyone could be thinking that. “We were friends, that’s all,” he said quickly. “Neither of us ever thought of anything else.”

There was a skeptical expression on Onkel Zeb’s lean, lined face, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned back toward the door. “I’ll bring the rest of the small stuff in.”

He’d need the sawhorses and his tools, but for a moment, Daniel stood where he was, processing that idea. All he could think now was that it had been fortunate he and Rebecca hadn’t been more than friends. He wouldn’t have wanted to let her down.

It wouldn’t have to be that way. The small voice of hope spoke in his head, but he squashed it. Maybe it didn’t have to be, but it was. After all, it had happened before. When Mamm left...

He’d been the closest to their mother of the three boys. So close he’d always thought he even knew what she was thinking. But he hadn’t. She must have been unhappy for a long time to run away to the Englisch world and leave them behind. And he’d never seen it. If he had, he might have made a difference.

Logic might say that a ten-year-old couldn’t influence what a grown woman did, but somehow Daniel didn’t believe in logic when he thought about running upstairs to Mammi’s bedroom to tell her about the good grade he’d got on his spelling test, only to discover that the room was empty of everything that belonged to her. Everything except the letter that lay on the pillow, addressed to Daad. Nothing for him, her favorite.

There had been times when he’d nearly run off to try to find her. And worse times when he didn’t know whether it was worth it to go on living. Daad, shattered himself, hadn’t been any help. They’d never have got through it without Onkel Zeb.

And then, just when Daniel had begun thinking that losing Mamm that way hadn’t tainted him forever, Aaron had left. Little Aaron, the baby brother he’d always looked after, taken care of, defended. He’d told himself taking care of Aaron was his job—maybe he’d even taken pride in how close they were.

But he’d failed Aaron, too. He hadn’t known that the forces of rebellion were growing so fiercely in Aaron that he’d pack up and leave. Like Mammi, except that Aaron hadn’t even left a note.

Daniel had understood then. He couldn’t be trusted not to fail the people he loved. So he certain sure couldn’t take the risk of letting a wife and children depend on him.

Onkel Zeb clattered back in with another armload. “You want to help me with the sawhorses?”

“Yah, sorry. I’ll get them.” Daniel shook off his mood. No sense reliving the past. This was now, and there was work to be done.

But when they pulled the last few things off the wagon, it was Onkel Zeb who paused, his thoughts clearly far away.

“You know something more about Rebecca,” Daniel said, knowing it was so. He waited. Was he going to hear what it was?

“I can’t tell you all of it,” his uncle said, continuing the conversation that was on both their minds. “Parts I don’t know, and parts Josiah most likely wouldn’t want repeated.” His solemn gaze met Daniel’s. “But I do know that Rebecca has seen more trouble than most folks twice her age. And right now, what she needs most is a friend.” He paused, and Daniel thought for a moment that he was praying. “You can be that friend she needs, Daniel. If you will.”

“Yah, for sure.” He didn’t need to know any details to promise that, but his heart was chilled, nonetheless. “I’ve always been Rebecca’s friend, and I always will be.”

* * *

By the next day, Rebecca had begun to feel that, aside from a few bumps in the road, Lige was doing better each day. And if he was, that meant she could be happier, as well. She and Leah were doing the breakfast dishes together after the younger children had left for school, and Leah’s sunny kitchen seemed to hold the echo of the kinder’s chatter and laughter.

“Come September, your Lige will be joining the other scholars on their way to school,” Leah commented. “He’ll like it, I’m sure. Teacher Esther is wonderful gut with the kinder.”

“It’s hard to believe my little one is that old. I’ll miss him.” Rebecca’s smile was tinged with a little regret. In a normal Amish family, Lige would have been joined by a couple of younger siblings by now.

“You won’t miss him as much as you think.” Leah’s tone was practical. “By then, your quilt shop will be thriving, and you’ll have plenty to keep you busy.”

“I hope so.” Rebecca breathed a silent prayer.

“I was thinking about the shop,” Leah said. “How would it be if I asked some of the other women to bring in quilts on consignment? I know several fine quilters who would like a regular store to sell their goods, instead of relying on mud sales and the like.”

Rebecca blinked. It seemed Leah was thinking ahead even more than she had. “That’s a grand idea, for sure. I’d love it. Do you really think they would? I’ve been away so long that they probably feel they hardly know me by now.”

“Ach, that doesn’t make a bit of difference. Folks remember you. You’d be doing a gut thing for them. And then there are some women like Martha Miller. She doesn’t get around much now, but she’d love to do more sewing for folks. You could get her some work by letting customers know that she does hand quilting.”

“Yah, I could.” Excitement began to bubble. “I could have a bulletin board, maybe, where I could post things like that for customers to see. Denke, Leah. You...” Her throat tightened. “I’m sehr glad Sam had enough sense to marry you. I couldn’t ask for a better sister.”

Leah clasped Rebecca’s hand with her soapy one. “Ach, it’s nothing. We’re wonderful glad you’ve come home.”

The back screen door closed softly, and Rebecca turned to smile at her son. It had to be Lige, because any of the others would have let the door bang.

“Mammi, can’t we go yet? Daniel is counting on me to help.”

“In a few minutes, Lige. I’ll be out as soon as I’m ready.”

He looked disappointed, but he didn’t argue. Sometimes she almost wished he would. Instead, he slipped quietly out again.

A silence fell between her and Leah, making her wonder if Leah was thinking the same thing.

“That Daniel,” Leah said. “The kinder are all crazy about him. It’s a shame he doesn’t have a passel of little ones of his own by this time.”

“I’ve thought that, too,” Rebecca admitted. “I kept expecting to hear he’d been married, but it didn’t happen.”

“No.” Leah shook her head. “I hope he wasn’t listening to that foolish talk that went around after Caleb’s first wife left him. Folks saying that history was repeating itself, and that the King men couldn’t find happiness in marriage.”

“That’s not just foolish, it’s downright wrong. Just because of their mother, and then Caleb’s wife...” Rebecca was too indignant to find the right words. “Anyway, with Caleb happily married now, surely that shows they were wrong.”

“Yah, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Leah dumped the dishwater and dried her hands. “But it’s hard to know what Daniel is thinking sometimes. He took it awful hard when Aaron jumped the fence.”

“He would,” Rebecca said, her heart aching for Daniel’s little brother, out there in the Englisch world somewhere. “Daniel always felt responsible for Aaron, especially after their mother left. He...”

Whatever she might have said was lost in the noise as a large truck came down the lane. Leah craned her neck to see out the window.

“It’s the moving truck,” she exclaimed. “Your things are here!”

Together they hurried outside, and Rebecca felt her heart beat a little faster. Her belongings—the furniture she’d wanted to bring, Lige’s toys, her collection of quilts—they were finally here. Now she could start to feel at home.

When they reached the rear of the truck, the driver was opening the door and letting down the ramp. Almost before he’d finished, the rest of the family had arrived—her mother and father from the grossdaadi house, Sam and the older boys from the barn and the eldest girl from the chicken coop. She even spotted Daniel hastening down the lane toward them.

Mamm put her arm around Rebecca’s waist. “Now you’ll start to feel settled, ain’t so? You’re really home.” Her eyes clouded over with tears, making Rebecca wonder how much Mamm had been worrying about her.

“I’ll need to sort things...” she began, and Daad interrupted before she could head into the van.

“All you have to do is say where each thing goes as we bring it off. Someone will carry it there.” Daad’s voice didn’t allow an argument.

But still she felt vaguely guilty, drawing them all away from the things they’d been doing.

“Furniture in our basement for now,” Leah said. “It’s all cleaned and ready. Just pick out what you want in the grossdaadi house. You won’t want anything to go in your new place yet, ain’t so?”

Rebecca shook her head. “It would just be in Daniel’s way.”

“That’s right,” Daniel said, tapping Lige’s straw hat. “We men need to have room to work, ain’t so, Lige?”

Her son nodded, his smile chasing any tension from his face.

The next few minutes were a scramble, as things started coming out of the van so fast that it was all she could do to keep up. Lige showed a tendency to want to open boxes to see what was inside, until Daniel showed him how they were marked.

Sam marshaled his young ones into a line. He picked up each item in turn, checked with Rebecca what she wanted done with it and then gave it to one of the kinder to hurry off with. Daniel came out balancing several large boxes and headed for her.

“My quilts!” Her heart seemed to lurch with excitement. There they were, all packed up, the things that would allow her to support herself and her son.

Daniel’s grin said he understood, at least a little, what this meant to her. “Should we toss these in the chicken coop?” he said, teasing her the way he’d teased the girl she used to be.

“Into my sewing room,” Leah said firmly. “I don’t need the space just now, and they’ll be handy for you there.”

Joshua, Leah’s eldest, seized the boxes from Daniel. “I’ve got it, Mammi.” He strode toward the back door, Lige scurrying ahead to hold the door open for him.

They’d left Rebecca nothing to do but watch as the van emptied and Leah produced coffee and crullers for the driver. “I hate to put everyone to so much trouble,” Rebecca murmured. “I shouldn’t...”

“Ach, don’t be foolish.” Daniel gave her a friendly nudge. “Look at them. See how happy they are? It would be wrong to take away their joy in doing something for you.”

All of her arguments about standing on her own feet and taking care of herself and her son seemed useless against Daniel’s perceptive comment. She glanced at him. He was right, and his smile said he knew it.

Maybe she should argue, but she was too happy just now to care.

Chapter Three

Rebecca walked into the shop the next morning to hear the sound of a saw. Obviously, Daniel was already at work, and that gave a boost to her already-optimistic frame of mind. She hadn’t realized how much it would mean to have her own belongings here with her and Lige.

Maybe every mother had these strong instincts to create a nest for her family. With their own things surrounding them, she and Lige could feel at home. And how much better it would be when this place was finished. She looked around the kitchen, seeing it not as it was, but as it would be, with the gas appliances, the pie cabinet she’d inherited from her grandmother, her dishes on the shelves and pots of herbs growing on the windowsills.

But there was work to be done, and dreaming wouldn’t get it accomplished. Rebecca headed into the front room.

Daniel looked up from the sawhorses with a warm smile. “You’re here, but where is my helper?”

“He’ll be along in a minute. He’s been begging to be allowed to bring the mail from the box, so I said he could today.” She could see him now through the front window, skirting along the edge of the road toward the box.

“Lige will be fine,” Daniel said, apparently reading her thoughts. “He’s growing a little every day. Like you did at that age.” He grinned. “That was when you started wearing your braids pinned up under your kapp, remember?”

“I remember thinking it was a gut idea, because then you and the other boys couldn’t pull my braids,” she said with mock tartness. “You were a bunch of little monsters at that age.”

“Were not,” he said quickly, just as he would have all those years ago. Then he turned back to his work, measuring a board he’d laid out. “Funny thing,” he said.

“What’s funny?” She bent to pick up the pencil he’d dropped just as he reached for it.

“I’m just thinking that with gut friends, you can pick up just where you left off, no matter how many years it’s been in between.”

Rebecca was speechless for a moment. Sometimes it seemed she was looking at Daniel with new eyes, seeing things she hadn’t noticed before. “Yah, that’s true, I think. When did you get so wise? You didn’t show any signs of that when you were little.”

“What kid does?” he asked. “It takes a bit of living to find some qualities in yourself. And maybe some folks never find them.”

Could he be right? If so, then she might have had the seeds within her the whole time to bear the burden of James’s injury and the effect it had had on their marriage. It wasn’t anything she’d ever expected.

She shook herself out of her momentary absorption, not wanting Daniel to think he’d made her sorrowful. “I certain sure never showed much sign of wisdom myself. Like the time I tried to prove that I could climb higher in the willow tree than Sam, and got stuck there. And all Sam could do was stand there and say he’d told me not to do it.”

“Sam was the one who wasn’t smart,” he said, grinning. “We knew how strong-willed you were. Telling you not to was the surest way to get you to do it.”

“I can still remember how small he was when I looked down at him from above. It would have been a triumph if I hadn’t outsmarted myself by going too far to get down.”

“You did get back to the ground, though. And you managed it without falling on your head.” He marked the board with care.

“Only because you talked me through it, climbing up to me and showing me exactly where to put my hands and feet so I could get safely down.”

“That was my strength,” he said, his grin smug. “I could talk you into things. Did I ever tell you I was scared stiff you were going to fall and Onkel Zeb would blame me? I had a lot to lose if I didn’t get you down.”

“I should have known there was something in it for you. Just like the day you talked me into sneaking one of Mammi’s cherry pies. I’ll never forget how you looked when Mammi caught us with cherry all over our faces.”

They were both laughing at the image when Lige came in, the mail clutched against his chest with both hands. He looked from one to the other, his eyes wide. Most likely, he didn’t expect grown-ups to behave that way.

Rebecca swallowed her laughter. “Ach, Lige must think we’re crazy.” She smiled at her son. “It’s a funny story about something we did when we were little. I’ll tell you about it later,” she said. “You can go ahead and run the mail to Aunt Leah, and then come back and help.”

“There is one for you, Mammi.” Lige extracted it carefully from the bunch. “I’m delivering it first. Now I’ll take the rest, and then I’ll come back and help Daniel, yah?”

She had to smile at his solemn attitude toward his new responsibilities. “Sehr gut. Denke, Lige.”

With a quick smile for Daniel, he hurried off with the mail, his shoulders squared with responsibility.

When he’d gone, Rebecca turned her attention to the envelope in her hand. It was from John, James’s brother, so it must mean that he’d sent the amount of his first monthly payment. Relief washed through her. Thank the good Lord it was here. She’d been running low on cash, and she wouldn’t feel right asking her parents for help. They’d done enough for her already.

Ripping it open, she looked for the pale blue check that was sure to be enclosed. But it wasn’t. There was just a letter from John, brief and to the point. He couldn’t pay her now. No excuses, no reason. Just a short statement.

She stared at the page, her body rigid while her mind raced. What was she going to do? How could John do this to them?

* * *

Daniel, watching her, saw the color drain from Rebecca’s face as she stared at the letter she’d received. His stomach clenched into a knot. She looked worse now than she had on the first day after she’d come back.

He dropped the tape measure. “Rebecca, was ist letz? Is it bad news you got?”

As if suddenly aware of his presence, Rebecca spun away from him, turning her back. Shutting him out. He had a brief flare of totally inappropriate anger.

Her hand, still holding the paper, was trembling, and sympathy washed away the anger in an instant.

“I can see it’s bad news.” He kept his voice gentle. “Won’t you tell me what it is?”

“It’s...it’s nothing,” she said, but her voice and her body gave the lie to the words.

“It’s something,” he said, propelled by the need to help close the distance between them, but not quite daring to touch her. “Trouble shared is trouble halved, ain’t so?”

Rebecca turned to face him. For an instant, he thought she’d burst out with it, but then he saw that her lips were folded tightly together.

His jaw tightened in response as he took in that refusal. “Remember what I was saying about friendship never changing? It looks as if I was wrong, yah?”

For an instant, she glared at him, and he thought she was going to walk out. Then she sucked in a deep breath. “I...I’m sorry if it seemed that way. This affects you, so I guess you’ll have to know anyway.”

He wanted to reach out and touch her, but instinct told him it wouldn’t be welcome. Instead, he waited, sure now that she’d tell him, whatever it was.

Rebecca gave a sidelong look at the letter, almost as if she needed to avoid it. “The note is from my brother-in-law, John. The one who is buying the farm in Ohio from me.”

She seemed to have difficulty getting the words out, and he tried to help her along. “Yah, I know. You mentioned that you’d used his down payment to buy this house.”

“I did. And his monthly payments were intended to cover the costs of remodeling and getting my business started. The first one should have come by today.” The hand holding the letter trembled again before she saw and seemed to force it to steady. “But he says he can’t make the payment this month. He’ll send it later.”

Daniel frowned, trying to make sense of it. “But...does he say why?”

“No. No explanation. But then, John’s not one to explain himself.” She rubbed her arms, almost as if she was cold.

He was beginning to form a picture in his mind of the brother-in-law, and it wasn’t a very complimentary one. What was the man about, to fail in his duty to his dead brother’s widow and child?

“Did you have a written contract with him?” It wasn’t his business, but he hoped now that she was talking, she’d keep going.

“Yah. I maybe wouldn’t have thought of it, but Daad was there at the time, and he insisted a written contract was proper. I think James’s family was a little offended by his attitude, but Daadi wouldn’t let it go.” She might have seen his surprise that she’d even let her father handle the negotiations, because she made a small movement with her hands, as if pushing something away. “Daad and Mammi gave us money to help buy the farm to begin with, so it only seemed right for him to have a say in what happened.”

Thank the good Lord that Josiah had such a businesslike attitude toward it. Folks didn’t usually get the better of a hardheaded Pennsylvania Dutchman easily.

“Seems like it was smart you listened to him. At least you have it in writing.” He hesitated and then said what was in his mind. “Maybe you should remind John of that contract he signed.” He was probably going too far, but Rebecca seemed to need bolstering up where her in-laws were concerned.

He wasn’t sure she took in what he said, but finally she shook her head. “No. There’s nothing I can do. I don’t want to start a hassle with James’s family.”

“Seems to me John is the one who started it.”

She just looked at him, and he knew what she was thinking. Finally he shrugged, his palms up. “Yah, all right, I know. It’s not my business. I just don’t like to see him take advantage of you.”

“I’ll handle it.” Rebecca retreated into herself. Clearly, she had nothing else to say.

He had a few more arguments he’d like to express, but he restrained himself. Turning back to his work, he had to start again with the measurements, having totally forgotten what he’d come up with. It didn’t help that he watched Rebecca covertly all the time he was doing it.

She might not be talking, but her body language was clear enough, with that stiff back and tight face. Why was she so determined to handle everything on her own? It wasn’t natural in an Amish family, where helping each other was considered God’s plan, and that sort of independence drew very near to pride, about the worst thing for an Amish person. But if he said that to her, she’d probably never speak to him again.

Finally Rebecca seemed to pull herself out of her worried thoughts. She moved toward him, so he looked up from his work, and his heart twisted. Rebecca looked as if she were picking up a burden that was too heavy for her.

“You’ll have to stop work.” She blurted the words out and then sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to you, but...”

“We talked about this.” His voice might be calm, but his thoughts were spinning rapidly, trying to come up with a way to change her mind. “You have already paid for the materials, and you don’t owe me anything until the job is finished. Surely by then your brother-in-law will have paid what he owes you.”

Rebecca’s hands clung to each other until the knuckles were white. “That would not be fair. I can’t accept your work when I don’t know when or if I’ll have the money to pay you.”

“Ach, Rebecca, I would do the work for nothing for an old friend. The money doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” she snapped. “I won’t accept charity.”

“Charity?” He straightened, his own temper finally flaring, although he wasn’t sure whom he was angrier at, Rebecca or that brother-in-law of hers. “Who’s talking about charity? The Fishers and the Kings have been doing things for each other for a hundred years. Seems to me your time away from here has made you forget a lot of things. It’s made you prideful.”

He shouldn’t have said that, but he could be just as determined as she could. Rebecca might have been able to push him into a mud puddle once and not have him shove back, but she wasn’t going to push him around now.

Rebecca’s face had tightened into a mask that bore little resemblance to the girl she’d been. “Prideful or not, this is my decision. And my house. Please put down your tools and stop. Now.”

“And when Lige comes back ready to help me? How are you going to explain that to him?”

“Lige is my son. I’ll tell him what he needs to hear.”

Daniel stared at her for a long minute, trying to make sense of her attitude. He couldn’t.

“If you reject my help, Rebecca, you are rejecting our friendship.”

He knew he shouldn’t have said it the instant the words were out, but it was too late. Rebecca took a step away from him. She crossed her arms.

“Please go, Daniel.”

There was nothing for it but to pick up his tool bag and leave, berating himself the whole time for handling her so badly. And yet, what else could he have done?

The trouble was that he kept thinking he knew her, and maybe he was wrong. Maybe he didn’t know Rebecca at all.

* * *

Rebecca didn’t look forward to telling Lige that the project was off and he wouldn’t be working with Daniel for now. She waited until they were walking back to the farmhouse, thinking it would be easier away from the place he connected with Daniel. It would hurt, but she assumed he’d take it as silently as he did everything else.

But in this, she was wrong. To her astonishment, her quiet little son started to argue with her. Lige, who never spoke up for himself, was actually disagreeing.

“But, Mammi, you can’t do that. Daniel wants to work on the shop with me. You can’t!” He tugged on her apron, as if that would make her see reason.

She stared at him, trying to gather her wits. “I’m sorry, Lige. I know you’re disappointed, but that’s how it is right now. When I can afford to pay Daniel, he’ll come back. You’ll see.”

“But I want to work with him now.” It was almost a wail. “Won’t he come back now if you ask him?”

Rebecca bit her tongue to keep from saying something that would put the blame on Daniel. She couldn’t be that unjust to him, even if it were easier on her. “Daniel is willing, but it wouldn’t be fair. Carpentry is how he makes his living. He has to be free to accept jobs for people who can pay.”

Lige’s lower lip came out in a decided pout. “He’d rather work for us. I know. We make him smile.”

“Daniel is friendly. He smiles at everyone.”

“Not like that. Please, Mammi. Please, please, please.”

Her father came around the house in time to hear Lige’s words, and his face crinkled. “It sounds as if this boy really wants something. What is it, Lige? A cookie?”

Lige shook his head. “Mammi says Daniel can’t work for us anymore because we don’t have money to pay him. But Daniel would, wouldn’t he? You tell her, Grossdaadi.”

Her father’s gaze studied her face, and she longed to turn away but couldn’t. Daadi touched Lige’s cheek lightly. “I’ll tell you what. You go and help Grossmammi with the cookies she’s making, and I’ll talk to your mamm.”

“Snickerdoodles?” Lige asked hopefully. At his grandfather’s nod, he darted off, leaving Rebecca to face what would probably be a lecture.

“Let’s sit down on the steps.”

She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Daadi led her to the porch steps and waited while she took a seat.

“I know what you’re going to say, but I don’t want you to pay Daniel. I need to do this by myself. Don’t you see?”

“No. I don’t.” Her father didn’t scold. Instead, he seemed disappointed. “Did John Mast not send the money he owes?”

She shook her head. “He wrote and said he couldn’t right now. The point is that I can’t let Daniel keep working if I can’t pay him. It wouldn’t be right.”

“What did Daniel say to that?”

“He offered to keep on working.” She evaded his steady gaze.

“How did you convince him to stop, then?”

She’d never doubted her father’s wisdom. He could go straight to the heart of what his children weren’t saying to him. “I...I said something that hurt his feelings. But it wasn’t all my fault. He was the one who...”

Rebecca let that trail off, because it was starting to sound like her explanations of the quarrels she’d had with her brothers when they were small.

Daadi gave her a disappointed look. “He is your friend, Rebecca. I shouldn’t have to tell you what you must do when you’ve hurt a friend.”

She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Daniel shouldn’t have pushed her into that position. But she certain sure should have found a way of dealing with him that didn’t involve causing him pain.

Sitting there debating with herself wasn’t getting her anywhere. She didn’t have to let Daniel continue to work for her, but she did have to ask his forgiveness for her anger. She pushed herself to her feet.

“You will find Daniel in his workshop,” Daadi said calmly. “I saw him go in a few minutes ago.”

Rebecca headed reluctantly toward the King place. She should have hired someone she didn’t know to do the work for her, she thought rebelliously. Then she wouldn’t have been put in this position.

Daniel’s shop was a square-frame building situated at a little distance from the barns. Daad had told her that he’d built up quite a business for himself in the past couple of years, even doing some kitchen remodeling for a few Englisch families. Daniel was a hard worker who deserved success, and that wouldn’t come if he spent his time on work he wasn’t paid to do.

The sound of a saw reached her even before she opened the shop door. A motorized saw, as it turned out. Daniel had apparently found it worthwhile to install a generator for his business, much as dairy farmers like Sam and Daniel’s brother had to do for their milking equipment.

She stopped inside the door, trying to find the right words while she waited. Daniel must have seen the movement when she entered, but he finished what he was cutting before he stopped the saw and stood, pulling off the safety goggles he wore.

“Rebecca. I didn’t think I’d see you over here.” His voice didn’t express anything—not anger, not apology, nothing.

Unable to find the right words, she looked around the shop. “This is a fine setup you have here. Daad says that you’ve been doing a lot of remodeling jobs. It looks as if you could handle most anything with all this equipment.”

“I don’t think you came here to admire my shop, Rebecca.”

He wasn’t going to make it easier for her, in other words. Rebellion flared. He was the one who’d equated their friendship with letting him work without pay, after all.

Unfortunately, she also knew full well that if she hadn’t been totally caught up in her problems, she could have handled it better, without the need for this breach between them.

She sucked in a deep breath, knowing what she had to say. “I came to tell you I’m sorry. Getting that news was a blow, but I had no right to take it out on you. Please forgive me.”

His eyes were very dark in the muted light of the shop, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. If she’d broken their friendship entirely... Panic flashed like lightning, showing her what that would mean.

“I’ll forgive you on one condition.” Now his smile was back, and her heart lifted. “You let me keep working on the shop.”

“Maybe I didn’t explain it very well.” She struggled to hold on to her emotions. “When I came back, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t lean on anyone else.” The way she’d leaned on James. “I would stand on my own two feet.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said, “except that it’s not the Amish way. We help one another, as you know very well. You wouldn’t hesitate to help me if I needed it. Like Sam, over here every day to help do our milking, as well as his own, when Caleb was laid up. That’s what we do.”

Her arguments were being cut from under her, and she struggled to find a solution they both could accept.

Daniel crossed the distance between them and stood, smiling at her. “What’s wrong? Can’t find anything else to say?” His voice teased her gently.

“Nothing that wouldn’t necessitate another apology,” she said tartly. “Suppose we do this. You let me help. Surely there are things I can do. And you don’t turn down other jobs to work for me.”

“Deal,” Daniel said. He grinned at her. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She’d tell him it was, but he wouldn’t understand. None of them would, because they didn’t know what her life had been like with James.

It hadn’t been his fault, she told herself once again. The injury was to blame.

Whether that was true or not, she had to walk away from the past. She had to accept Daniel’s help to do so. He held the door open to her new life, but she had to pass through, and she would.

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