Fixing a family isn’t what she signed up for…

Patching hearts wasn’t the plan… But this father and daughter need her help.

Overseeing kitchen volunteers while the community rebuilds after a flood, Abby Kauffman doesn’t expect to get in between Englischer David Riehl and the orphaned teenager he’s raising. But Abby can tell David is struggling, and she’s determined to help him bond with the girl. Might Abby be the missing ingredient to bring this makeshift family together for Easter?

JO ANN BROWN has always loved stories with happily-ever-after endings. A former military officer, she is thrilled to have the chance to write stories about people falling in love. She is also a photographer and travels with her husband of more than thirty years to places where she can snap pictures. They have three children and live in Florida. Drop her a note at joannbrownbooks.com.

Also By Jo Ann Brown

Green Mountain Blessings

An Amish Christmas Promise

An Amish Easter Wish

Amish Spinster Club

The Amish Suitor

The Amish Christmas Cowboy

The Amish Bachelor’s Baby

The Amish Widower’s Twins

Amish Hearts

Amish Homecoming

An Amish Match

His Amish Sweetheart

An Amish Reunion

A Ready-Made Amish Family

An Amish Proposal

An Amish Arrangement

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

An Amish Easter Wish

Jo Ann Brown

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90662-7

AN AMISH EASTER WISH

© 2020 Jo Ann Ferguson

Published in Great Britain 2020

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

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

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

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

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“Let’s start our work together with our first rule.”

“What’s that?” Abby asked.

“Honesty. If I don’t understand something you say, I’ll ask you. You do the same with me.”

“I like that rule.”

“Good. Now, what should be our next rule?”

“We make this fun for the teens and for ourselves. If we act as if this is drudgery, the kids will sense it, and we’ll lose our chance to help them.”

“Fun?” David arched his brows as if responding to something he’d heard in his head, then sighed. “That may be harder for me to follow than the first rule. Nobody’s ever described me as fun. In fact, the opposite.”

“Well, then we’ll have to see how we can change that, ain’t so?”

He gave her the faintest grin, but she took it as a victory. As they continued to talk about possible activities for the youngsters, she couldn’t doubt he cared about his daughter and her friends. He was a man of strong emotions, though he tried to hide that fact. She couldn’t help wondering why.

Dear Reader,

When something momentous happens, our lives can feel as if they’re tumbling out of control. For David Riehl, his search for the truth brought him answers he never expected. He has to depend on faith to get his feet under himself again. He has good examples in front of him as his neighbors face uncertainty in the wake of the flood.

The Mennonite Disaster Service is a real organization that was established seventy years ago when a group of young people wanted to help others. MDS volunteers, who are both plain and Englisch, come primarily from the US and Canada and have helped rebuild homes and lives after disasters, usually weather-related or due to wildfires.

Visit me at www.joannbrownbooks.com. Look for my next book, again set in Evergreen Corners, Vermont, coming this summer.

Wishing you many blessings,

Jo Ann Brown

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

—Matthew 5:16

For Justin and Mikayla, who are writing a beautiful love story of their own.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One
Evergreen Corners, Vermont

“Is he here yet?” Abby Kauffman called.

The freezer couldn’t have picked a worse time to stop working. Supper must be served in three hours, and nothing was started. Worse, tonight was supposed to be a festive gathering for the local teen volunteers and their families, as well as those from Amish Helping Hands who’d come to help rebuild the small town.

Abby scanned the list of food stored in the freezer and sighed. It might not be an accurate list because she and the other volunteers working in the community center’s kitchen had made it from memory. Nobody wanted to lift the top of the chest freezer and peer inside to count the boxes of meat and frozen vegetables and tomato sauce. A specific inventory wasn’t necessary. With hundreds of dollars of donated food inside the freezer, every minute counted.

She went to the wide pass-through window from the kitchen to the main room of the community center. A trio of young people were lounging among the collection of mismatched tables and chairs where the volunteers had their meals. She’d lost count of the number of breakfasts, lunches and suppers they’d served since the October flood five months ago had washed away houses and businesses along Washboard Brook and damaged more buildings farther from its banks.

So tonight, in addition to the ten to fifteen volunteers who needed to be fed at each meal, there would be almost twice that number joining them for a roast beef dinner with the fixings. The meat had been thawed, but the volunteers’ favorite part of the meal—the pies—were in the freezer. Digging through the containers inside to find the unbaked pies would mean allowing precious cold air to escape, threatening the rest of the food stored in the chest freezer.

Where was the repairman? She’d found his name on a list in the community center office and called. He’d said he’d be there as soon as he could, and that had been almost two hours ago.

She put her hands on the counter and looked toward the door. When she hit her head on the pass-through, she grimaced and rubbed her heart-shaped white kapp. She was only a few inches over five feet tall, so she wasn’t used to having to duck. One of these days, she was going to remember how low the top of the window was and stop bumping her head on it.

How she wished she could be more like her older brother! Isaac never overlooked a single detail about anything. She’d heard one of the residents of their small Vermont town, far to the north of Evergreen Corners, describe her brother as having a laser focus. She couldn’t agree more. When Isaac was involved, nobody had to worry about the smallest item being forgotten.

Isaac was at home on the family farm, and she was working in the community center kitchen in Evergreen Corners for at least the next six weeks. If needed, she would stay on, though that might not make her family happy. She couldn’t walk away when people needed her here. Since her daed had recently remarried, she no longer had to take care of the household as she’d done since her mamm’s death almost twenty years ago. Her stepmother, Lovina, was a skilled cook and housekeeper who could handle everything on her own.

And, more important, in Evergreen Corners, Abby could avoid anyone who reminded her of the worst days of her life, days after her selfishness almost caused a young man’s death. Busying herself with work allowed her to pay forward to others the blessing she’d been given, a blessed reprieve when the young man recovered. She kept on working, day after day, because she couldn’t forget her guilt about how her foolish decision had nearly led to tragedy.

“Is he here yet?” Abby called again as she came out into the main room.

As if on cue, the outside door opened. A man she didn’t know stepped in. Seeing he carried a battered metal toolbox, she opened her mouth to tell him to hurry to the kitchen and check the freezer before the food began to defrost, but no sound emerged as she stared.

He moved with the ease of a man who was comfortable with his long limbs. His shoulders were muscular beneath his unzipped coat. Black hair was ruffled by the cap he’d removed as he’d entered, and a single curl dropped across his forehead toward his full eyebrows. His eyes, as brilliant blue as a spring sky, looked around the room.

“Are you the repairman?” Abby managed to ask before his gaze reached her. She scolded herself for reacting like a hormonal teenager at the sight of a gut-looking man.

And an Englischer at that!

Isaac would be more than annoyed if he heard she was gawking at an Englischer with her mouth open like a fish pulled from a pond.

The man glanced her way. He took note of her plain clothes and kapp, and his assertive brows lowered in a frown. However, his voice, as he spoke, was a pleasant baritone. “I’m David Riehl.” He crossed the room and held out a business card with words and logo to match the ones embroidered on his coat. “Riehl’s Appliance Repair.”

Startled how her fingers trembled as she reached for the card, Abby nodded. Again, she didn’t trust her voice. She stored the card in the pocket of the black apron covering her dark green dress and motioned toward the kitchen. She walked in that direction, aware with every molecule how David followed a few paces behind her.

As they entered the kitchen, voices burst out behind her. Had the teenagers waiting to hear where they were working today gone silent when David entered, or had she been so focused on the handsome man that her other senses had stopped working?

Abby gave her thoughts a gut shake. She should be thinking of one thing: getting the freezer fixed. She stepped aside as he put his toolbox on the floor and walked around the freezer that sat in ominous silence. When he asked about the brand and model number, she answered, glad he hadn’t yanked up the top to look.

Her shoulders eased from their taut line. David Riehl of Riehl’s Appliance Repair knew what he was doing. Sending up a quick prayer of thanks, she watched as he put his hand on the freezer. She guessed he was searching for any vibration to give him a clue why the freezer wasn’t working.

“When did you notice a problem?” he asked, not looking at her.

“It was running this morning. Then the compressor stopped, and it didn’t start again.”

“That could be caused by a few things, but let’s look at the obvious ones first.” He pulled a small flashlight from beneath his coat and switched it on. “I’ll check the evaporator coils first. Dust and dirt get on them. It’s almost like you’re suffocating the unit because moisture can’t evaporate. That may keep the compressor from starting.”

“Our kitchen is clean.”

He arched his brows before squatting to peer behind the freezer. “Even the best housekeepers forget to keep the coils clean.”

“Or sweep under the refrigerator.”

“Exactly.” He tilted his head and glanced at her with a cool smile. “I don’t mean to insult you or any of the volunteers. We appreciate you coming here to help.” He shifted the flashlight to examine the freezer from another angle. “Looks pretty dust-free.”

Straightening, he moved around to the other side and reached to pull the plug out of its outlet.

“Must you unplug it?” Abby asked.

“If I don’t want to get zapped, yes.” When he smiled this time, it wasn’t as icy as the interior of the freezer should have been. She wouldn’t describe his expression as warm, but at least it seemed genuine. “Don’t worry. It won’t take long to do a diagnostic on the freezer, and you said when you called the shop the contents are tightly packed. That should keep them cold far longer than you expect.”

“I hope so.”

When David didn’t answer but bent to unscrew an access panel on the side of the freezer, Abby knew she was in the way. He didn’t need her standing behind him, watching everything he did.

She went to the two stoves and turned the ovens to 325 degrees. The beef roasts cooked in aluminum foil at a low temperature, giving the juices time to mix with onion soup mix and mushrooms to flavor the roast. On the table, four pans she’d lined with foil waited. Putting meat in each pan, she began to slice the mushrooms she’d washed before she realized the freezer was silent. She’d taken packets of onion soup mix from the pantry and was opening them when David spoke.

“Looks like you’ve got a bad thermostat.” He put an electronic tester in his toolbox. Standing, he added, “I brought one along because that’s a pretty common problem with older chest freezers.”

“Is it quick to fix?” She sprinkled the mix over the meat and mushrooms.

He nodded. “Your freezer should be working in about fifteen minutes. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank the gut Lord,” she breathed with relief as he left. When was the last time she’d taken a complete breath? Since the freezer had stopped working? Since David had walked through the door?

She was startled by that thought. He was an Englischer and terse almost to the point of being rude. Because he was easy on the eyes didn’t mean she should see him as anyone other than skilled hands to get the freezer working again. She was glad she wasn’t watching the door when it opened and his strong, assertive footsteps crossed the tiled floor.

He didn’t say anything as he went to the freezer and knelt beside it. His broad hands navigated the small space afforded by the access panel as he removed the useless thermostat.

Abby averted her gaze again. She shouldn’t be studying each of his motions, though she was fascinated by his knowledge of how the wires should be handled. Now wasn’t the time to ask her usual questions about the way things worked.

The front door opened again and a cacophony of footsteps burst into the community room.

She smiled, knowing more of the teenage volunteers had arrived. On any day, about a half dozen boys and girls offered their time to assist the adult volunteers. She knew they wished they could climb on rafters to raise roofs or use the excavation machinery. However, the policies of Amish Helping Hands and the Mennonite Disaster Service and other organizations limited the teens to working on the ground. They could climb a ladder to paint a ceiling, but nothing more dangerous.

“Hey, what’s going on?” asked Jack Gundersen as he stretched through the pass-through window to peer into the kitchen. The teen, who’d been one of the first to ask to help with rebuilding houses swept away by the flood, hadn’t lost his enthusiasm in spite of weeks of hard work. He and his best friend, Reece Maddox, put in several hours of work each day after school and on Saturdays.

Abby smiled at the boys. Anyone looking at them might dismiss them as trouble because of their tattoos and cropped hair, but she’d come to see they had generous hearts. She didn’t understand why anyone would ink their arms with identical verses from Proverbs 17, as the boys had done. Yet she admired their faith and friendship that had led them to put the words A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity on the insides of their forearms.

“Something went wrong with the freezer,” she said in answer to Jack’s question. “The thermostat. It’s getting fixed by—”

“Hi, Mr. Riehl!” called Reece, leaning next to his friend on the counter. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Just finishing,” David said without looking at them. “But thanks.”

“Are you and Mikayla coming tonight?” Jack asked.

Abby looked from the boys to the man kneeling by the freezer. She knew only one girl by that name. Mikayla St. Pierre was the newest teen volunteer, a pretty, quiet girl who liked to work alone. Someone had told Abby the thirteen-year-old was an orphan after her sole surviving parent, her daed, had died in a car accident and she now lived with a guardian. Was David Riehl the one who’d taken her in? Maybe there was more to him than the curt man who looked at her as if she’d come from another planet.

David reached into the freezer, his face turned away. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”

“The volunteer supper.” Jack grinned. “Roast beef and the fixings.”

“And desserts.” Reece’s smile was broader than his friend’s. “Lots and lots of yummy desserts. Isn’t that right, Abby?”

She heard an odd sound behind her. Turning, she discovered David regarding her with a strange expression. She wasn’t sure if he was upset or surprised or something else.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

Instead of answering her, he asked a question of his own, “You are Abby?”

“Ja.” When he continued to stare with indecipherable emotion glowing in his eyes, she hurried to add, “Es dutt mir leed.” She flushed anew, not wanting to admit his presence had unsettled her enough to forget to speak in English. “I mean, I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself when you arrived. I was in a hurry to get the freezer fixed. Is it all right now?”

Again, he acted as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d spoken. “You are Abby? Abby Kauffman?”

Concerned by his odd behavior, she wasn’t sure what might be wrong with him. Moments ago he’d acted curt but polite, as she’d expected a busy repairman to act. Now he was gawking at her as if she’d grown a second head. What had she said to cause him to react as he was?

She couldn’t halt herself from asking, “Are you all right, David?”

No, I’m not.

David Riehl was glad the woman standing between him and the door into the main room couldn’t read his mind. Or maybe it didn’t matter because his thoughts were so jumbled he didn’t know how to sort them out.

Abby Kauffman—the Abby Kauffman whom Mikayla had mentioned over and over—was Amish? He’d assumed… He wasn’t sure what he’d assumed, but he’d never guessed the name belonged to an Amish woman.

There was no doubt she lived a plain life. Her shimmering blond hair was pulled into a tight coil beneath a heart-shaped organdy head covering.

A kapp, whispered a memory from the depths of his mind. He couldn’t remember what the pinafore-type apron was called. The color of her dress reminded him of pine needles, and her eyes were the color of a tree-covered mountain on a foggy day. Not quite green and not quite gray.

He shouldn’t be staring at her, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away. There was something undefinable about her that drew his eyes. Something more than her pretty features or her plain dress. He couldn’t figure out what it was and, for a man who spent his life getting to the bottom of problems, not being able to put his finger on what intrigued him was unsettling.

David mumbled under his breath, hoping she’d think he was impatient to install the new thermostat. His fingers were clumsy because knowing Mikayla’s Abby was Amish bothered him more than he’d guessed. He tried to concentrate on his task. It was almost impossible because his thoughts flew in every possible direction.

As they had too often since the night ten months ago when he’d gotten the call that Boyd St. Pierre, his best friend since they’d gone to Evergreen Corners High School together and a single parent after his wife died in childbirth, was dead. A slick mountain road, a careless driver and a ten-car pileup left four people dead and twice that many injured. Mikayla hadn’t been hurt other than bruises and blackened eyes from the airbag.

David had had the air knocked out of him almost as hard by the shock of discovering Boyd had named him Mikayla’s guardian. What did a bachelor who was an only child know about raising a thirteen-year-old girl?

At first, the necessary flurry of a funeral and settling his friend’s estate and handling insurance claims had kept him too busy to think, but in the past couple of months, the pace had slowed to something similar to normal. He’d come to realize, though, he had no idea how to be a parent to a teenager.

Mikayla didn’t talk much, but on the few occasions she did, almost every comment contained Abby’s name. When she’d joined the other young people from their community church in volunteering, he’d been glad to see her spending time with people her age. However, he couldn’t remember more than a handful of times when she’d mentioned any of the teens by name.

Just Abby.

Always Abby.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked again, ripping him away from his uneasy reverie.

“Fine, fine.” It wasn’t a lie. He was doing as fine as he could in this odd situation.

Why, among everything else Mikayla had said about Abby being so welcoming and fun and funny, had she failed to mention Abby was Amish?

As he finished affixing the thermostat and reached for the access panel cover to screw it into place, he knew the answer to his question. Mikayla hadn’t said anything because being Amish didn’t mean anything to her other than it was part of Abby’s identity.

It did to him. He could hear his father’s voice, low and filled with anger, deriding the ultraconservative Pennsylvania Amish community where their family had lived for generations. David’s parents had left when he was about to start school, so his memories of what had happened were fuzzy and contradictory.

“We were chased away by closed minds and open mouths,” his father had said so often the words were imprinted on David’s brain. Neither of his parents had spoken about why they’d abandoned family and friends and moved to Vermont, but they’d never taken any pains to hide their disgust with the Amish.

“Hey, Mikayla!” Jack pushed away from the window. “Did you take a bath in Pepto-Bismol?”

Mikayla appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. The stylish glasses perched on the end of her nose were pocked with bright pink as were her worn T-shirt and jeans. She was a slender girl of medium height who looked like her mother. A mass of brown curls surrounded her face that was dotted with enough freckles to be cute.

“Hi, Abby,” she said with the shy smile he’d seldom seen. It vanished as she noticed him by the freezer. “Oh, David.”

He waited for her to say more. She didn’t. Instead she wrapped her arms around herself and stayed in the doorway. The boys by the pass-through window seemed as much at a loss for what to do or say as he was.

Abby, however, walked over to Mikayla and put an arm around her shoulders. “I was so hoping you’d drop in today. Have you enjoyed painting Kaylee Holst’s bedroom? Every five-year-old wants a candy-pink room, ain’t so?”

“It’s been fun, but I don’t know if I ever want to see pink again.” Mikayla didn’t push her hair back from her face, hiding her expression.

From him or from everyone?

David watched as Abby steered the girl he called his daughter, for lack of a better word, across the kitchen to the table where she was preparing the roasts. She chattered with Mikayla as if they’d been friends for years.

His fingers curled, his nails cutting into his palms. He should have been aware that Mikayla had become friends with an Amish woman. He prided himself on knowing the facts, so he could plan ahead. That skill served him well as a repairman and in life…until Mikayla had become part of it. He’d made it clear he was available whenever she wanted to talk. He’d changed his life insurance and made a will to provide for the girl in case something happened to him. He’d started a college fund for her, though she didn’t want to talk about going.

He’d never considered she’d choose an Amish woman to turn to. He had to find out more about Abby Kauffman. The last thing he needed now was to have the fragile girl being judged as cruelly by the Amish as his parents had been.

Chapter Two

David gathered the tools he’d used and stored them in the toolbox. He tossed the old thermostat in a nearby trash can. The freezer was humming, a sure sign the problem had been solved. Usually he felt a sense of satisfaction when he confronted a problem, evaluated the situation, considered the facts and found a solution.

Not this afternoon. He felt nothing but utter confusion, which was growing by the minute like dandelions would in a few months across his lawn.

He watched as Mikayla chopped garlic and sprinkled it on the roasts while Abby closed the foil over them. He hadn’t guessed Mikayla knew how to do that.

He didn’t know because he hadn’t asked her. He’d gotten used to the silence in his house broken only by the television. Before Mikayla had moved in, he hadn’t watched it much, but he’d assumed she, as a teen, would have a variety of shows she followed. If she did, she must be watching them another way, because she spent most evenings in her room with her headphones on.

His daughter wasn’t wordy with Abby, but she was giving the Amish woman more than the yes or no answers he got.

“Are you okay?”

At Abby’s question, David flinched. He hadn’t noticed the roasts had been put into the ovens and the preparation table cleaned. Mikayla was in the other room and he hadn’t seen her leave the kitchen. He wasn’t cut out to be a parent if he couldn’t keep an eye on one teenage girl when she was standing right in front of him.

“David?” Abby prompted him.

“I think I’m done here,” he replied, knowing she couldn’t guess how he meant those trite words. He berated himself. Self-pity wouldn’t get him—or Mikayla—anywhere. Boyd must have expected David to give her a family, but after ten months, the girl was still pretty much a guest in his house.

“How much do we owe you?” Abby asked as she opened the fridge and pulled out two dozen eggs.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She set the cartons on the table. “But you provided the part as well as your time.”

“I’m glad to be able to help you. You’re doing so much for my neighbors.”

When her eyes widened and then warmed with gratitude, an answering smile tugged at his lips. He halted it. Because he wanted to do his part in helping with the flood recovery efforts didn’t mean he should toss aside a lifetime of listening to his parents’ stories about how they’d been banished by their Amish kin and friends from the only world they’d known.

Abby smiled as she wiped her hands on her black apron and he knew she had no idea what he was thinking. That was for the best. She hadn’t done anything out of line.

Yet.

“That’s kind of you, David,” she said before bending to get a deep bowl from a cupboard near the table. “Danki for sharing your knowledge and your time.”

“You’re welcome.” He couldn’t help being flustered by the brilliance of her smile and the way her face glowed with a sincerity he couldn’t doubt. Someone had told him the various Amish volunteers in town had come from different places and groups, and each of the church districts had their own unique customs. Maybe hers wasn’t like the one his parents had belonged to.

Don’t let a pretty smile persuade you to throw away your common sense, warned the most cautious portion of his mind. The part he took pains to listen to whenever possible. He’d learned the hard way disregarding its warnings could lead to trouble. It had whispered Chelsea Shipley was the wrong woman for him and he hadn’t listened…until she’d dumped him.

“Is there something we should do to make sure the freezer keeps working?” Abby asked.

“Keep the coils cleaned and clear away any layers of ice inside the chest.” He was glad to return to neutral territory where he could talk about work and not be assaulted by uncomfortable memories of what had happened fifteen years ago with Chelsea. “Don’t leave the door open. Grab what you need and close it fast.”

“Gut. Those are things we can do. Danki again, David, for coming today.”

“It would have been a shame for the donated food to go to waste.”

She laughed. “I worried, too, but realized I could have farmed out the meats to every oven in town and roasted them before they spoiled. Somehow, we would have found a way to store the meat in the refrigerators. You saved me from going door-to-door and asking to borrow an oven.”

“That would have been quite the feast.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Her smile brightened more. “We’re having a feast tonight to give thanks for how God has brought us together in Evergreen Corners. Are you and Mikayla planning to join the other teens and their parents for supper here? We’ll be eating around six thirty.”

How he wanted to believe the kindness in her expression! He could say yes without hesitation. Right now, Mikayla needed good people around her as she faced life without her father. It had to be devastating for her. It was for him because he’d lost his best friend, and the void left after the accident was greater than he could have imagined.

Before he could answer, Mikayla stated from the doorway, “I’m coming.” She didn’t put her hands on her hips as she faced him, but she might as well have.

“All right,” he replied. “I’ll come, too.”

“You don’t have to.”

He translated her words to mean “I don’t want you to.” Not that it mattered. He wasn’t going to leave her on her own with strangers.

But they weren’t strangers to Mikayla. She’d been spending lots of time volunteering. He’d agreed when she’d said she wanted to help. Last night, she’d actually spoken a few words during their supper and each had been about painting inside the new houses.

That explained why her clothing was spotted bright pink. He wondered if the paint was water soluble and would wash out. He flinched. Maybe Mikayla hadn’t changed much in the last ten months, but he had. Before, laundry hadn’t been anything he’d thought about until he ran out of clean clothes.

Satisfied he’d agreed to attend the supper, Mikayla hurried to catch up with the two boys who were already out the door.

“Hey! Where are you going?” David called, but she didn’t look at him.

Abby said, “Don’t worry. They’re headed to house sites to assist.”

“I thought she was painting today.”

“The kids pitch in wherever they’re needed. They’re a gut group of kids.” She smiled again and he felt that twitch of reaction deep within him. “Mikayla has been a true blessing for us.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“In spite of what she’s been through this past year, she’s always ready to help others. I enjoy working with her in the kitchen.” A hint of a chuckle came into her voice. “And, for a girl her age, she’s an accomplished cook. You must appreciate having her be able to put a delicious meal on the table.”

He was stumped on how to answer. He didn’t want to admit he’d never asked Mikayla to make a meal, having promised himself she must never think he considered her a burden or a servant.

Abby’s enthusiasm overwhelmed him. He wasn’t accustomed to someone being so blatant with their emotions and their opinions, and he found it disconcerting. He was glad to hear Mikayla was fitting in, but to say that might reveal how little he knew about the girl.

“Six thirty for supper?” he asked to change the subject.

“Ja, but we’ll be setting up about an hour ahead of that.”

Was that an invitation or an order? David decided it would be wiser not to ask. He told her that he and Mikayla would be back later. Not waiting for her answer, he darted out of the community center so fast he didn’t realize he’d left a screwdriver behind until he needed it at the shop he’d set up in an old garage next to his house.

He’d get it later, he told himself. For now, he had to get his thoughts sorted. He didn’t want to be drawn into the plain world and end up wounded as his parents had been.

We were chased away by closed minds and open mouths. As his father’s words rang through his head, he had to wonder—as he hadn’t before—if any of those closed minds and open mouths had been wearing a lovely smile like Abby’s.

The community center looked wunderbaar. Even her big brother, Isaac, would have to admit Abby had taken care of every detail. Outside, snow huddled in the shadowy corners beneath trees, though it was early April, and remained in ugly gray piles on the sides of the roads. Abby had been able to convince several local volunteers to share late snowdrops and bunches of crocuses, so the tables inside were brightened by small vases filled with purple and white flowers. They offered a positive sign that spring would fill yards with daffodils, forsythias and lilacs.

A half dozen women, both plain and Englisch, worked in the kitchen. They dished out the vegetables, mashed potatoes and sliced meats and breads. Jenna, who was the local librarian, carried bowls of applesauce and chowchow from the kitchen. The young woman had worked long hours to salvage materials at the library, where both the basement and ground floor had flooded. She flashed Abby a smile and a thumbs-up before turning to the refrigerator to collect more relishes to put on the tables.

The door to the street opened, allowing in cold air and an explosion of voices as teenagers and their parents arrived. Abby searched the faces. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Mikayla’s among them.

Not only Mikayla, but David Riehl had returned. Abby hadn’t been certain he would. Making sure her surprise was well hidden, she waved to the newcomers with one hand as she poured water into glasses with the other. Mikayla hung up her coat before rushing to the kitchen to help.

“No, no,” Abby said with a chuckle as she put up her arm to keep the girl from going into the kitchen. “You and the other teens are our guests of honor tonight. Let us serve you.”

“I want to help.” The girl glanced at David, who was talking to one of the other daeds. “Please.”

“Is everything all right?” Abby asked, her smile falling away.

“Everything’s as it always is.”

The girl’s tone sent a pulse of sorrow through Abby. Mikayla seldom spoke of the car accident that had left her an orphan and had never said a word about David. Yet, the teen’s grief was bubbling right beneath her too composed exterior, a volcano ready to erupt at any moment.

Abby wished she knew a way to help Mikayla to be honest with her and with her guardian. There must be some way to reach the girl.

How?

The question plagued Abby while she finished setting the tables. Her half-formed hope she could sit with the girl and David vanished when they found the last two seats at a small table with Jack and his parents. The question continued to dog her during grace, which was led by Pastor Hershey. The Mennonite minister preached at the church attached to the community center.

She ate the food that had smelled so delicious, but it had no flavor for her as ideas for helping Mikayla burst into her mind and were discarded. When the meal concluded with thick slabs of snitz pie, she was no closer to a solution.

Then everyone was leaving. She sought out David and Mikayla.

“Danki for joining us tonight,” Abby said. “I’m glad you both could come. And danki again for your help this afternoon, David. I hope you don’t have too much homework tonight, Mikayla, because you must be exhausted after helping so much this afternoon.”

“Just French and English.” The girl shrugged. “I speak both already, so they’re easy.”

Had she made a joke? If so, it was the first Abby had ever heard from her. She clamped her hands to her sides before she could fling her arms around the girl and say how delighted she was to hear humor in Mikayla’s words. Glancing at David, she saw he was astonished as she was. Before she could find the right thing to say that wouldn’t embarrass the teenager, they’d thanked her again and left.

Abby sighed. There had to be something she could do. What, God?

Knowing she must be patient because God answered prayers in His time, she turned to head into the kitchen. She was told there were enough hands to help and she’d done more than her share that day. She would have argued most days that she didn’t want to leave the cleanup to others, but she was weighted with her concern for Mikayla and David. Going home to seek God’s guidance might be the best thing she could do.

Reece held the door open for her after she’d put on her black coat and tied her black bonnet over her kapp. The teenager fell into step with her as they walked up the hill along the village green.

“My folks needed to head over the mountain to pick up my sister,” he said when Abby asked why he was walking home instead of going with his parents. “They had to slip out before dessert because her math tutor gets annoyed if they’re late picking her up.”

“There was extra pie. You could have—”

He held up a grocery bag she hadn’t noticed and grinned in the thin glow from the streetlight. “Already taken care of. Enough for them and for my sister.”

“And for you?”

“Yep.” He chuckled. “I didn’t want them to eat alone.”

“You’re a gut son.”

“It’s good pie.”

Abby laughed along with him. It’d taken some of the teens a little time to get accustomed to being around plain volunteers, but, once they’d realized the Amish weren’t going to chide them for every action or expect them to be serious every minute, they’d relaxed and treated her and the others like the rest of the adult volunteers. With respect and the assumption their elders were out of touch. She remembered feeling the same way when she’d turned thirteen and known she’d be finished with school in a little over a year.

They were a block from where she lived in an apartment over the mayor’s garage when a dark-colored car raced over the top of the hill and squealed to a stop not far from them. Reece tensed beside her as both windows on the driver’s side rolled down. Seeing several teens, at least one of them a girl, in the car, she wondered what they wanted.

“Hey, Maddox, going for an older woman now?” Laughter burst from the car. “You going to grow one of those beards to impress your Ay-mish girlfriend?” They pronounced the word with a long a. More rude laughter was followed by smacking sounds as if they were trying to kiss something as huge as an elephant.

When a teen made a comment about his sister, Reece put down the bag with the pie and took a step toward the car.

Abby grabbed his arm, halting him. She hid her grip from the kids who rained taunts on him. They mustn’t guess she was keeping him from stepping into their snare. There were at least four kids in the vehicle and they’d let Reece take the first swing before they pummeled him.

“Danki for your comments,” she said as she picked up the bag and handed it to Reece.

He looked from it to her, but she said nothing. Instead she continued along the steep sidewalk at a slow pace that would look as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As she passed the car, the teens exchanged glances as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Gut! Giving them pause might allow them time to realize they were acting like dummkopfs.

Suddenly the car peeled out as another vehicle came up the hill. She guessed they didn’t want to be seen. They went down the street too fast and skidded with a squeal around the corner.

Beside her, Reece let out his breath in a sigh. She patted his arm in silent commiseration, but tensed when the red truck came to a stop beside them. What now?

She got the answer when the driver stepped out and called, “Were those kids bothering you?” David’s voice was laced with anger.

“We’re fine.” Abby pointed at the bag Reece carried. “The pie is fine.”

“Abby?” Both David and Mikayla, who’d stepped out of the passenger’s side, gasped her name at the same time.

Mikayla rushed to Reece, who was shaking with residual emotion. He nodded to her, but spoke to Abby. “I thought I’d make sure you got home okay.” He knocked his work boot against the pile of refrozen snow mixed with last fall’s leaves. “I didn’t think I’d have you saving the day for me.”

“Will that cause more trouble for you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing can cause more trouble for us with those guys and their girls. They’re bullies, and they harass everyone.”

“Everyone?” David joined them on the sidewalk.

Reece faltered, then said, “Yeah, everyone.”

“And nobody does anything about it?”

“We ignore them. The Bible says not to speak evil of someone else, so we’re trying to ignore their words. We know they aren’t true.” He glanced at Abby. “At least, we try to ignore them.”

“And you’re doing a gut job.” She patted his arm. “You’d better get that pie home before your family wonders if we’ve kept you washing dishes.”

He nodded and headed up the street with Mikayla matching his steps. The two teens spoke softly, so Abby couldn’t guess what they were saying.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” David asked as he watched the two kids moving together from shadow to lamplight.

“I’m fine, and Reece will be. He knows well-aimed cruel words can hurt, but they’re words spoken by people he doesn’t respect.”

“Bullies start with words, Abby. When those don’t get them what they want, they turn to other means.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to urge the kids to stick together.” She hesitated and then asked, “Would you drive Reece home? I don’t like to think of those other kids finding him by himself.”

“No need. His house is there.” He pointed to the top of the hill. “I’ll wait and make sure he gets home. I’ll give them a few minutes. Then I’ll pick up Mikayla.”

“That’s a gut idea. I think Reece needs someone his own age to talk to right now.”

“You’ve got real insight into these kids, don’t you?”

“I try. If you see something else I can do better, let me know.”

“I will,” he replied, but he didn’t look at her.

She fought not to frown. David had avoided her eyes several times this afternoon. Now he was doing the same. What was he trying to hide? His life had been turned inside out by becoming the daed to a teenager. Maybe both he and Mikayla needed guidance to ease into their new lives.

She would be glad to help. But how? She hoped God would show her the way.

Chapter Three

“Abby, are you here?”

Looking up from the menu she was preparing for the coming week, Abby glanced at the clock in the community center kitchen. It was nearly 10:00 a.m. Where had the morning gone?

She smiled as Beth Ann Overholt walked into the kitchen. The dark-haired midwife volunteered when she could in Evergreen Corners. With her practice in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, she had to find times—two weeks each visit—to help with the rebuilding. She was much taller than Abby and wore a brace on her right leg. Like Abby, she dressed plainly, but her kapp was pleated as befitted her life as a Mennonite.

For a moment, Abby considered asking Beth Ann’s advice on how to help David and Mikayla. She’d been pondering the question for the past week and didn’t have an answer. She guessed that because most of Beth Ann’s interactions were at births, she wouldn’t have much more insight than Abby did into teenagers.

“I’m right where I always am at this time of day,” Abby replied as she motioned for her friend to come over to the table. “Getting ready for the midday meal and trying to come up with menus based on what we’ve got in the freezer. It looks as if we’ll be having venison burgers a lot in the near future.”

“All right by me.”

“You’ll eat anything put in front of you.”

“Hard work makes a girl hungry.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Abby laughed as she put down the paper and pencil. “A cup of kaffi?”

“Yes, but I’ll have to take it to go. We’re supposed to finish the painting at the McGoverns’ house today.”

“Then let me get you enough cups for the whole crew. How many?”

“Five. Do you have disposable cups?”

“Thanks to the generosity of Spezio’s market, we do.” The grocery store, situated at the edge of town, had been cut off from many residents for more than three months. Everyone had been pleased when that route out of Evergreen Corners had been opened to traffic again. “I don’t know what we’d do if they didn’t keep us supplied with paper goods.”

Beth Ann chuckled. “You’d figure out some other way to get by.” She scanned the kitchen while Abby went to the pantry and lifted out a stack of insulated cups. “Are you alone here today?”

“Ja. That nasty cold has half the town in bed and the other half trying to avoid catching it.”

“I know. That’s why we’ve only got five on the painting crew today.”

Abby poured kaffi from the big urn and set packets of creamer and sugar onto one of the trays used to transport drinks to the various building and work sites. “We need to contact Isaac to see if anyone up north can come down for a few days.”

“That’s already been done.” Beth Ann hefted the tray. “I heard someone over at the high school saying your brother will have more volunteers here by the end of the week.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Thanks, Abby.” She turned to go, then paused. “Oh… I almost forgot the reason I came by. Glen wants to see you.”

Glen Landis was the project manager for the rebuilding in Evergreen Corners. He worked for a Mennonite organization but coordinated with Amish Helping Hands and other groups who’d sent volunteers and supplies to help. As well, he kept each project on schedule by making sure building materials were ready when the crews needed them. Handling any disputes was also part of his job, and he did it so well Abby had heard of only one instance where there had been a major disagreement.

He was the busiest man in town. Maybe in the whole state, and Abby knew his time was precious. If he wanted to see her, it must be for something important.

“When?” she asked.

“Now.” Beth Ann gave her a guilty grin. “I was supposed to deliver the message an hour ago, but I got waylaid when I was recruited to help unload a truck of donated furniture. I must have carried two dozen lamps into the town barn. People can come and pick out what they want once their houses are repaired.” Rolling her eyes as if she were no older than the teen volunteers, she said, “Look! I’m delaying you again, and the coffee is getting cold.”

“Sounds like I don’t have any time to waste, do I?” Abby followed the other woman to the door. Grabbing her coat and black bonnet, she closed the door.

Beth Ann strode away toward the center of town, but Abby lingered for a moment to draw in a deep breath of the fresh air that was flavored by mud and the aroma of freshly cut lumber. It’d been close to freezing when she’d come to work before dawn. Now the sunshine was making the snow dwindle into puddles.

She smiled when her feet sank into the damp earth as she crossed the village green. The faint color of new grass was visible beneath the brown remnants from last fall. Without snow, the damaged gazebo appeared more rickety. That project must wait until homes and businesses were safe and repaired.

And then she would need to leave Evergreen Corners. She didn’t like to think about that. In the small town, she’d found many ways to help. At home, her older brother would have everything under control, as he always did. There wouldn’t be anything for her to do, he’d tell her as he had so often, other than to find a husband and set up a household of her own.

Abby didn’t realize she’d been stamping her feet with the intensity of her thoughts until the heel of her boot got stuck. She wiggled it free and rushed toward the sidewalk as she forced herself to calm down. Isaac believed the only way she could find happiness was to marry.

She didn’t have anything against marriage. In fact, she dreamed of becoming the wife of a man who loved her, but she didn’t trust her heart. The last time she’d listened to it, putting her own yearnings first, tragedy had followed. A shiver rushed along her spine when the memories of that night almost nine years ago exploded. Instead of being there for Bert, a troubled young man she’d known needed help, she’d thought of spending time with Wilmer, who’d caught her eye and made her heart beat faster. Her heart had betrayed her, because Bert might not have been injured in an accident when he challenged Wilmer to a buggy race. At the time they’d lined up their buggies, she’d been asleep, never knowing about the drama playing out along the road not far from her family’s farm. She hadn’t imagined what could happen and how her name and reputation would become synonymous with the accident.

Since that night, when she’d joined others praying Bert wouldn’t die, and during the long months of his recovery and Wilmer’s trial afterward, she’d promised herself and God she wouldn’t let her desires come before anyone else’s. She would focus on helping with her family’s move to Vermont two years ago as well as volunteering to work with Amish Helping Hands. That had kept her too busy for walking out with a young man, especially the wrong young man. Not that she’d ever met anyone who made her think of walking out together.

Except David Riehl.

She silenced that thought as she reached for the door in one wing of the high school. David was an Englischer with no time for walking out, either. What did she know about him other than he was struggling to be the daed to a teenager?

Not giving herself a chance to answer, Abby went into the school. She stopped at the office to let them know she had a meeting with Glen and then half ran to his office, knowing she was late.

She knocked on the door with its frosted glass and heard the call for her to come in. As she’d expected, Glen sat behind a cluttered desk in what had been a classroom in the high school. For the past five months, it had served as an office for the project manager who oversaw the volunteers and vendors together with the families who were having their homes rebuilt. Calendars listing when supplies should be ordered and when they’d be delivered vied for space along the walls with house plans. Samples of flooring and cabinet doors were stacked in one corner while cases of light bulbs leaned at a precarious angle against another.

“Come in, Abby!” he said as a greeting when he stood. His kind face was lined with more wrinkles daily. “We’ve just started.”

We?

In astonishment, she saw the man who’d been filling her thoughts rising from a straight chair across the desk from Glen. She almost demanded to know why David was part of the meeting, then bit back the words. She was there to help, not cause friction.

“Danki,” she said when David cleared another chair of stacks of paper so she’d have a place to sit.

Folding her hands on her lap, Abby waited for Glen to speak. She didn’t have to wait long.

As he sat, pulling his chair in closer to his desk, the project manager said, “You may have heard I wasn’t in favor of having youth volunteers when it was first suggested to me.”

Abby nodded. Michael Miller, an Amish volunteer who’d decided to remain in Evergreen Corners in the hope of building a church district in the town, had first suggested having the teens help. Once he was baptized, he would marry and share with his family one of the new houses set far enough from the brook that they shouldn’t be flooded again. The mayor had hired him to build new shelves in the library, but that project had been put on hold. So, for now, he’d kept working with the house crews, using his skills as a fine carpenter to piece together moldings and window frames.

“You’ve changed your mind,” David said.

“Completely. I’ve talked with the supervisors at each building site, and they agree with me.”

“Agree about what?” Abby asked.

“That we need to make our teens into a cohesive group that works together while enjoying the special fellowship they would experience if they weren’t volunteering so many hours. We’re developing a program to balance their volunteer hours and their homework hours and allow them time for socializing with each other. We want, as well, to include faith lessons as part of the program.” Glen leaned forward and folded his arms on his desk. When papers crunched under his elbows, he grimaced. He moved the offending papers and then refolded his arms on the empty blotter. “We want to give them the tools they need to deal with the challenges they’re facing right now.”

“So you’ve heard about the bullying, too?” Abby couldn’t see any reason not to be blunt.

He nodded, his expression grim. “We would like to think when someone sees a gathering of brothers and sisters toiling in God’s name, that sight should inspire love. Unfortunately, some young people prefer to belittle our volunteers.”

“Talking to the bullies’ parents—”

“Has obtained us promises they’ll speak with their children. Some of the bullies have stopped. A couple have inquired about helping us. However, a core of about five teens have continued to be disruptive.”

“What can I do to help?” Abby asked.

David cut his eyes toward her as he corrected, “What can we do to help?”

“That’s what I meant,” she hurried to add.

He looked away, but this time he wasn’t hiding anything from her. He was irritated at her choice of words. She hadn’t wanted to speak for anyone but herself. He should know that. With a start, she realized—again—she had no idea what he should know because she didn’t know him.

“I’m glad to hear both of you are eager to get this program going,” Glen said with a broadening smile. “We need two adult coordinators to develop our program and work with the kids on a two-to three-times-a-week basis. Will you be willing to get us started?”

“Ja, of course, we will.” Abby stiffened. She should have thought before she blurted her answer because she was committing David to something he might not want to do. He had a lot on his plate with Mikayla and his repair business.

However, working with the teens could be the best way for her to help David and Mikayla grow closer. They’d been brought together by tragedy, but they needed to believe God wanted them to have joy and love in their lives. Could David see that? She must not push too hard because she’d already learned both David and Mikayla were stubborn. Being subtle when she could help people wasn’t her strong point, but she must try.

“I mean,” she added, hoping she hadn’t already messed up this opportunity to help David and Mikayla and the other teens, “I am willing to help with this program.”

“Good.” Glen turned to focus on the man sitting beside her. “And what about you, David?”

She gasped. She hadn’t intended to put David in the hot seat and she hoped he’d see the needs of his family as she did. If he didn’t… No, she didn’t want to think her hopes had been dashed before they’d come to life.

David didn’t have to look at Abby to know she was sorry for having spoken out of turn again. First, she’d acted as if she didn’t want to work with him; next, she was volunteering him without asking if he was interested. He’d heard her quick intake of breath in the silence following the calm question Glen had posed to him.

Every instinct told him to jump to his feet and tell Glen he had the wrong guy. If David agreed to this idea, he—and Mikayla—would be spending more time with the Amish volunteers.

Mikayla already talked about Abby almost every time she opened her mouth. His daughter didn’t need to spend more time with her. Mikayla would want to be part of the program, and the one way he could be certain she didn’t put herself in a position to be hurt as his parents had been was to be there to keep an eye on her.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to find the time with the work he had lined up, but he’d vowed at Boyd’s funeral to take care of Mikayla as if she were his own flesh and blood. Somehow, he’d figure out what to do. He’d go over his schedule to find pockets of time to spend with the teens.

Knowing what he must do didn’t halt him from being cautious enough to say, “I like this idea, Glen, but I think Abby and I need some time to talk about how we would handle this.”

Abby looked at him in astonishment. Did she always jump off a cliff without bothering to see how deep the chasm was?

He couldn’t do that. He had to consider each of the alternatives in the hope of seeing a solution instead of getting tangled up in his emotions. That was the way to deal with problems. He looked at his hands spread across his knees. His knuckles were pale from where he’d been gripping his legs.

“I can give you a couple of days,” Glen replied. “No more. The bullying seems to be getting worse. I want to, as they used to say in the old movies, head the problem off at the pass. I can’t think of anyone better to do the job than you two.” He relaxed and smiled. “To tell you the truth, I asked around for recommendations, and your names were the ones I heard over and over. Abby, you’ve done a tremendous job with the teens and, David, the word around Evergreen Corners is you can fix anything.”

David smiled wryly. “I don’t know if people meant I could put an end to bullying. It’s not like finding the right part and installing it.”

“I think it is,” Abby said. “We need to figure out what’s bothering those youngsters and help them.”

“We’re not talking about Amish kids here.” He tried to keep his annoyance out of his voice. “Your kids may be well behaved but—”

Her laugh halted him. “Our kinder can be as badly behaved as Englisch ones.” She grew serious. “I know Englischers like to think we’re different because of what we wear and how we try to live our lives as close as we can to Jesus’s teachings, but we’re human beings. Everyone makes mistakes, and we hope we can learn from those. Most important, we learn to offer forgiveness and accept it.”

He wanted to say that wasn’t the experience his family had, but talking about the past wouldn’t help deal with the future. “Look, we need to talk about this, and I’m sure Glen has other things to do than to listen to us.”

The project manager gave them a grin as he patted a stack of papers almost eight inches high. “These have to be handled before I can hit the hay tonight. So talk it over when you have a chance and get back to me in two days. I’d like to be able to give you longer, but I can’t. We need to deal with this before it becomes a crisis.”

David stood and watched as Abby did, every motion she made graceful. As he turned to leave, Glen called his name.

He turned. “Something else?”

“I wanted to let you know we’ll be deciding in the next month whose three houses we’re going to build next.”

“Good.” He was too aware of Abby listening, so he didn’t give Glen a chance to say more before he walked out of the room. Aware of Abby following him down the hallway to the office, he waited for her to sign out after he had. He held the outside door open for her.

She paused on the sidewalk and faced him. “Are you going to be working on the next houses?”

“I lend a hand now and then when I can.”

The answer seemed to satisfy her because she asked, “Do you have time for a cup of kaffi?” A warm flush climbed her cheeks, brightening them until they matched the soft pink shade of her dress. “I mean, coffee.”

He smiled. “What you said was close enough to English so I could figure it out. Yes, I think having a chat is a good idea.”

“Let’s go to the diner.” Twin dimples emphasized her smile. “I’ve been curious what it looks like now, and they should have the windows open on the sunporch so we can enjoy this beautiful day.” She must have misread his hesitation because she added, “My treat.”

He forced any hints of surprise from his face. He’d heard his father complain that the Amish were so frugal they wouldn’t spend a penny unless absolutely necessary. Abby was offering to pay the tab. Though it wasn’t for more than a cup of coffee, her easy offer contradicted what he’d assumed was true.

Had he misunderstood his father? He couldn’t keep from wondering if she were unique among the plain people or if he, like his daughter, was setting his new family up for trouble.

In either case, the only way he would know for certain was to spend as much time with her as Mikayla did, so his daughter wouldn’t be blindsided and hurt.

Chapter Four

Della’s Diner was at the center of Evergreen Corners, just west of the bridge crossing Washboard Brook that bisected the village. It faced a huge mill building that had been converted to artists’ lofts. Most studios on the lower two floors had been damaged during the flood. The building’s foundation had been undermined, so nobody could go inside until the stone was replaced by concrete.

The diner had been half stripped away by the rushing water, but its owners had shored it up as soon as the brook began to recede. It had reopened three weeks ago.

David wondered what had changed inside and was surprised to see not much had. The light green walls glistened with fresh paint. They were covered with new pictures of chickens and roosters as well as knickknacks sitting on open shelving in the place of the old pictures and bric-a-brac that had washed away. Everywhere he looked there was poultry of various colors from traditional to a steampunk rooster set next to the cash register. That rooster was made out of bright purple metal with faucet handles for eyes and webbed feet like a goose. He was amazed the owners had found so many items to replace the lost ones.

A few patrons sat at the counter running along one wall toward a swinging door to the kitchen. Pies topped with generous amounts of meringue were displayed in tiered glass cases set not far from the coffeepots giving off an enticing aroma.

A middle-aged waitress came forward to greet them. Her astonishment when she glanced at Abby was quickly hidden behind her professional smile.

He had thought, by now, the residents of Evergreen Corners would be accustomed to seeing plain people. He almost laughed. Not a ha-ha laugh, but an ironic one. He’d stared the same way himself when he’d realized Mikayla’s Abby was Amish.

The waitress held a pair of menus. “Inside or on the sunporch?”

“Sunporch,” David said, thinking of how Abby had mentioned sitting by an open window.

Abby had noticed Glen’s comments as they were leaving, but seemed to believe that Glen had been asking for his help. Letting her think that meant he didn’t have to answer questions—as he had for FEMA personnel and Boyd’s private insurance company—about the house where Boyd had raised his daughter. It’d been destroyed in the flood during Hurricane Kevin last fall. If Mikayla hadn’t been living with David, she could have been lost in the storm. He hadn’t spoken of that to anyone, but it tainted his dreams night after night.

“This way.” The waitress aimed another glance, one she must have figured was too surreptitious for anybody to notice, at Abby before leading the way through a broad doorway to the diner’s other room.

If Abby noticed the waitress’s gawking, she gave no sign. Was she used to people staring? She might be too polite to acknowledge them. Or maybe—and he was astonished how much he wished this was true—she hadn’t seen the waitress’s looks in her direction.

He was shocked at the sense of protectiveness surging through him. Not because he wanted to make sure his daughter wasn’t hurt again. This time, he longed to shield Abby from being wounded by a rude look in her direction. Shocked by his reaction, he pushed it aside and focused on following the two women onto the sunporch.

A row of windows lined one wall and the others were decorated with more chickens. A couple of televisions hung near the ceiling and were on but muted. Both were showing weather maps of the Midwest with areas marked in red for strong storms.

The waitress led them to a table next to a window. As he glanced out, he noticed the brook was much higher than it’d been a few days ago. Snow on the mountains flanking the valley must be thawing fast. The water was a pale brown with mud, and white foam marked the large boulders. Even with the spring melt, the brook remained below its banks.

David took the seat across from where Abby sat and smiled his thanks when the waitress handed them each a menu and hurried away to seat other patrons.

“What’s tasty?” Abby asked.

He hesitated, aware she’d offered to pay for their tab. “The coffee’s good.”

“I saw those pies on the counter. Don’t you think we need to try some? A friend of mine makes them, so I’m sure they’re delicious.”

Though he was curious which of her friends baked the pies, he didn’t want to pry. Better to keep his distance on any personal matter when dealing with the plain folk. He’d learned that from his folks, though they’d never used those exact words. Instead he’d listened to what they hadn’t said about their lives as Amish.

When the waitress returned to the table, Abby ordered a cup of coffee and a piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie. He asked for coffee as well as chocolate-cream pie. He could see that pleased Abby. Now that he’d volunteered to work with her, he should get to know her better, so he could discover what strengths she had to offer as well as any ideas. He wanted to get their project started. The sooner begun, the sooner finished.

Or at least he hoped so.

“So were you born and raised in Evergreen Corners?” Abby asked after two cups were set on the table.

“I moved here before I started school.” He stirred sugar into his cup. “I’ve lived here long enough that everyone accepts me as a native.”

“What made you decide to be a repairman?”

“I like using tools and figuring out puzzles, so it seemed an obvious step to fix broken appliances.” He waited until plates topped by generous slabs of pie were set between them. After he thanked the waitress, he asked Abby, “Do you always ask people you work with questions?”

Her smile looked far more genuine than his had felt. “I ask everyone questions. How else can I learn about people if I don’t ask? I know you’re Mikayla’s guardian and you’re concerned about her and her friends. That’s it.”

“I know you like to cook and you’re Amish.” He didn’t add how often his daughter spoke her name…on the few occasions when Mikayla talked.

“I don’t enjoy cooking that much. What I love is baking.” She took a bite of her pie. “Though I don’t think I’ve ever baked anything as delicious as this.”

He didn’t respond as he might have with anyone else. His parents had often told him how plain people disdained bragging about themselves or others.

Instead he said the obvious. “Glen wants us to work together with the kids.”

“Ja.” Faint pink brightened her cheeks. “I’m sorry if I forced you to accept the assignment.”

“You didn’t force me. I want to help the kids deal with these bullies.”

“Has it been going on long?”

“The bullying?” He took a drink of coffee, savoring its flavor while he thought about when he’d first heard rumors of the bullies. “About three to four months, as far as I know.”

She leaned back in her chair and looked out the window, offering him a view of her profile. Her chin might be a bit too assertive, but her face was lovely from any angle.

Taking another gulp of coffee, he silenced the thought. He shouldn’t be thinking about anything but trying to convince Mikayla that they were family. And he shouldn’t be admiring the Amish woman sitting on the other side of the table. What irony that the first woman who’d caught his attention in years lived the life his parents disdained.

“I wonder,” she mused, “if the bullying has anything to do with the tragedies inflicting Evergreen Corners.”

“I don’t see any reason how or why.”

“And I can’t see any reason how or why not.”

He arched his brows. “You’re beginning to sound like a true Vermonter.”

“Really?”

“Vermonters enjoy being contrary, or so we’re told.” He folded his arms on top of the checkered tablecloth. “There’s one thing we agree on. The weather is and always will be the most important topic.”

She laughed. “It is for farmers.”

“And everyone else. What the weather was, what it will be, when it’ll rain, when it’ll snow.”

She laughed. “I haven’t been in Vermont long, but I know the saying. ‘If you don’t like the weather—’”

“‘Wait a minute and it’ll change,’” he said in unison with her.

A hand clapped on his shoulder and David looked up at a thin, rangy man whose blond hair was laced with silver. “Jens, how are you?”

“Doing great. You?” Jens’s eyes cut toward Abby.

“Jens, this is Abby Kauffman. Abby, this is Jens Gundersen. You know his son, Jack.”

She smiled. “So nice to meet you. You have a wunderbaar son. He’s always willing to pitch in.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Ms. Kauffman.”

“Abby, please.” She motioned toward an empty chair. “Would you like to join us?”

“Thanks, but I dropped in to get some coffee to go.” He gave them a jaunty wave. “If my boy gives you any trouble, Abby, let me know.”

“I would if he was a problem, but he isn’t. You’re raising a gut kid.”

Jens was grinning with pride as he walked over to where a large cup was waiting for him by the register.

A storm of unexpected sensations rushed through David, too many to identify as each fought for dominance. Except for one.

Confusion.

He was confused by the contrast between what he knew about the Amish and how Abby acted. She was the epitome of kindness and generosity, the complete opposite of how his parents described the plain people. Somehow, he was going to have to figure her out before he—and Mikayla—could be wounded as his father and mother had been by trusting the Amish.

Abby thanked the waitress for refilling her cup. As she stirred more milk into her kaffi, she listened as yet another person stopped to speak with David. She’d been sitting with him for almost a half hour and they had yet to discuss any ideas for working with the volunteer teens. People paused by the table for various reasons. Some wanted to say hi. A few had questions about work they wanted him to do. Others were simply curious why he was at the diner with an Amish woman.

She smiled when he introduced her to each person, but was aware of time passing without anything getting done. She couldn’t linger too much longer because she needed to get tonight’s supper started.

Drawing in a deep breath as David spoke to the mayor’s husband, she gazed out the window. She could hear the brook murmur to itself.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” asked David, startling her because she hadn’t realized he’d finished his conversation.

“Ja. Peaceful and beautiful, though I know it wasn’t during the flood.” She leaned closer to the cool glass. “I wonder if the brook feels bad about the damage it’s done.”

“That’s a fanciful thought.”

She smiled at him. “And fanciful is a fancy word.”

“Something you’re not allowed to say?” he asked with unexpected heat.

Her brows lowered and her grin fell away. “The only things we’re proscribed from saying are listed in the Bible. Not taking the Lord’s name in vain, for example.”

“I assumed that.”

“But you assumed there were other things we aren’t allowed to say because we’re Amish.”

A hint of a flush climbed from beneath his collar. Was he embarrassed by what he’d said? She couldn’t help recalling other comments he’d made suggesting he had no use for plain people. That didn’t make sense. He’d been nice to her and he hadn’t kept Mikayla from working with her and other plain volunteers. Ja, he’d hesitated when Glen had asked him to work with Abby, but she didn’t think that was because she was Amish.

Could she have been wrong? Did he have an objection to being around Amish people?

If so, she wasn’t helping matters by being confrontational. So many verses in the Bible spoke of the importance of gently teaching those who needed to learn.

“Now I need to apologize,” she said. “Talking to people is the best way to find out more about them. That’s what my grossdawdi always said.” Heat surged up her own face. “I mean, my grandfather. I need to remember you don’t speak our language.”

“German, right?”

“Ja, but it’s not quite the same as the language spoken in Germany. More of a dialect. We call it Deitsch.” She smiled, hoping her expression would lessen the tension between them. “So what do you say to getting to know each other while we hammer out what we’re going to do for the teens?”

“You like to help others, don’t you?”

“Ja.” She picked up a forkful of pie but didn’t taste it as she asked, “What about you? You must be willing to help others if you took Mikayla into your home after the accident.”

“I was surprised to find myself appointed as her guardian by Boyd’s will.” He stared down at his kaffi as if he’d never seen it before. “I don’t know why he chose me.”

“Maybe because he knew you’d give his daughter a gut home.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I never had a chance to ask. All I know is Boyd depended on me to take care of his daughter.”

“And you don’t want to let him down?”

“No.” He took a drink and shifted his eyes away.

Abby chided herself for bringing up the subject. From what she’d been told by Mikayla’s friends, Boyd St. Pierre had died less than a year ago. Her words, though she meant them to be comforting, might be like picking at a barely healed scar.

“Let’s talk about the program for the teens,” she said.

“You make it sound as if there’s something already in place. Don’t we have to start this from scratch?”

“Ja, but I don’t think Glen expects us to do anything structured. It sounded to me like he wants us to spend time with the kids and help them discover tools to protect them from these bullies. We can combine fun with lessons about living with God.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but some of the parents might not want their kids being taught by someone who’s Amish.” Again, his eyes didn’t meet hers.

Was he one of the parents who’d be upset if a plain person spoke of following God through life? She should ask, but didn’t. Putting him into a more unpleasant position wasn’t going to help them complete the task Glen had given them.

“Most of our teen volunteers attend services at the Mennonite chapel. Let’s speak with Pastor Hershey.”

“I can do that.”

“Danki.”

“You’re welcome.”

She waited for him to say something else, but silence grew between them. Sounds came from other diners and the traffic passing in front of the building. David looked everywhere but at her. She didn’t need a sign on his forehead announcing he’d rather be somewhere else.

“David,” she said as she pushed her plate and cup aside, “if you don’t want to work on this project, say so. I know you’re busy with your job and with Mikayla. I understand, and I’m sure Glen will, too.”

“No, I said I’ll help, and I don’t renege on my promises.”

“No one would think less of you if—”

“Thank you, Abby, but I don’t need you offering me platitudes and convenient excuses.” Her shock at his icy words must have been visible on her face because he apologized.

She waved aside his words. “Danki.” Again, she felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’m sorry. I mean, thank you.”

“I got that. The words sound pretty much the same. Let’s start our work together with our first rule.”

“What’s that?”

“Honesty. If I don’t understand something you say, I’ll ask you. You do the same with me.”

“I like that rule.”

“Good. Now, what should be our next rule?”

“We make this fun for the teens and for ourselves. If we act as if this is drudgery, the kids will sense it and we’ll lose our chance to help them.”

“Fun?” He arched his brows as if responding to something he’d heard in his head, then sighed. “That may be harder for me to follow than the first rule. Nobody’s ever described me as fun. In fact, the opposite.”

“Well, then, we’ll have to see how we can change that, ain’t so?”

He gave her the faintest grin, but she took it as a victory. As they continued to talk about possible activities for the youngsters, she couldn’t doubt he cared about his daughter and her friends. He was a man of strong emotions, though he tried to hide that fact. She couldn’t help wondering why.

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