Amish Romance: The Mother's Helper (Nancy's Story Book 1) Read online

  The Mother’s Helper

  A Hollybrook Amish Romance: Nancy’s Story #1

  Brenda Maxfield

  Contents

  Personal Word from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Continue Reading…

  Thank you for Reading

  More Hollybrook Amish Romances for You

  About the Author

  Personal Word from the Author

  Dearest Readers,

  Thank you so much for reading one of my books! Your kinds words and loving readership make my day. As a thank you, I would like to give you a simple gift of my two favorite Amish recipes and keep you up-to-date with new releases and special offers.

  Click Here To Get Your Free Recipes

  Copyright © 2017 by Tica House Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  Casting all your care upon Him; for He careth for you.

  1 Peter 5:7 KJV

  Nancy Slagel cradled the baby in her arms. She felt the sting of tears pushing against her eyelids and held the child closer. Why couldn’t this child be hers? She was twenty-one, plenty old enough.

  If only Mark hadn’t…

  She shuddered. She couldn’t let her mind wander down that road. She just couldn’t. She was sick to death of tears.

  But why had he done it? And with her own sister? Her father had tried to make excuses for Susan. “She’s always been so tender-hearted,” he told her. “When Mark was hurt, and you were gone … well, it was a work of the Lord Gott.”

  Really? Having her beau stolen by her own sister had been God’s work? Hardly. And it wasn’t like Nancy would have been gone for good. She’d been away for one night visiting her grandmother. One night! It just couldn’t have been so simple. Susan must have had designs on Mark from the start.

  And Mark? To be able to deflect that easily?

  It didn’t bear thinking about.

  Nancy cuddled the sleeping babe. If it didn’t bear thinking about, then why did her mind continually go there? Why did she torture herself with thoughts of Mark’s betrayal? She blinked hard, willing her tears not to fall. Nobody wanted to be around a cry-baby. Especially when that cry-baby was twenty-one years old. In truth, Nancy was beginning to detest herself for her continual weeping.

  If only she could stop it…

  “Nancy?” her cousin Irene tiptoed into the room. “He asleep?”

  “Jah.” Nancy kissed the fluffy hair on top of the baby’s head. “Shall I put him down?”

  “Go ahead. He should sleep for a while now.”

  Nancy moved gracefully to the crib and lowered the child to the mattress. Zeke stirred, but only for a second. Then he put his thumb in his mouth and sucked earnestly, his eyes still closed.

  The two cousins tip-toed out of the room.

  “You need to rest,” Nancy said. “Go on, now. I’ll start supper. Where’s Debbie?”

  Irene yawned and rolled her shoulders as if they were paining her. “She’s downstairs playing with her blocks. I shouldn’t leave her for more than a second or two.”

  Nancy put her hand on Irene’s arm. “I’m going down. You get a nap in while you can.”

  “A nap? It just don’t seem right when there’s so much to do.”

  “Irene,” Nancy scolded her, “that’s the reason for a mother’s helper. Now, let me earn my keep.”

  Irene smiled, stifling another yawn. “All right. But I won’t sleep long.”

  “Sleep as long as you like.” Nancy smiled and slipped out of the room. She hurried downstairs and went immediately to the front room to check on Debbie.

  The two-year-old was rolling on the floor, her arms stretched wide. The blocks were strewn all over the rag rug.

  Nancy squatted down next to her. “Come on, Debbie. Want to help me work on supper?”

  “Jah!” Debbie said with a giggle. She got right up and toddled toward the kitchen. Nancy laughed and followed her.

  That evening, Nancy used the left-over meatloaf to make thick sandwiches. She served them with coleslaw, a bowl of pickles, fruit salad, and gooey chocolate cookies. Irene’s husband, Philip, smacked his lips when he was finished.

  “Mighty fine supper, Irene.”

  “Weren’t me that made it,” Irene said. “I slept the day away like a regular heathen.”

  “Nonsense,” Nancy said. “You nursed the baby while I finished up. It was nothing.”

  “Well, I won’t argue about who’s responsible. But, thank you, kindly,” Philip said.

  Debbie sat in her highchair, smooshing a pickle over the tray. She patted the resulting juice with glee, splashing Irene who sat next to her.

  “Ach, Debbie!” Irene cried. “Stop that, now.”

  Nancy jumped up and circled the table with her cloth napkin. She mopped up the juice and took the pickle away. “I think you’re full, Debbie. What do you say?”

  Debbie grinned up at her.

  “Let me red up the kitchen,” Irene said.

  “We’ll do it together,” Nancy replied, taking Debbie out of her highchair.

  “Ach, Nancy, I forgot,” Philip said, standing. He walked to the bureau at the side of the dining area and picked up an envelope. “You got a letter today.”

  Nancy took the envelope from his hand. She dreaded looking at the return address. She didn’t want to hear from home—she’d rather pretend her home didn’t even exist.

  “From your sister, I believe,” Philip said, confirming Nancy’s suspicions.

  Susan again? Nancy had already received two letters from Susan, begging her for forgiveness, but Nancy wasn’t having much success with that, God help her.

  She glanced down and was surprised to see that the letter wasn’t from Susan. It was from her younger sister, Linda. Relief swooshed through her. “Thank you, Philip,” she murmured.

  “Go on then, and read it,” Irene said. “I’ll start the clean-up. I’m sure you’re eager to hear any news from home.”

  Nancy’s gaze flew to her cousin. Irene met her eyes, and her face took on a sheepish look as if she’d just remembered why Nancy would not be eager to hear news from home—as if she’d just remembered why Nancy had been so anxious to leave home and become a mother’s helper in the first place.

  “Or read it later,” Irene added lamely. She held Debbie in one arm, and the platter of cookies in the other. “Whatever you wish.”

  Irene ducked into the kitchen, leaving Nancy standing there, holding the letter. Philip had already gone into the front room. Nancy released her breath in a long sigh. She might as well get it over with. With any luck, Linda wouldn’t mention either Susan or Mark.

  The late April weather was unseasonably warm for central Indiana, so Nancy pushed through the screen door and went out to the front porch. She sat down on the porch swing and reluctantly opened the envelope. It was a thin letter, only one sheet of stationery.

  Bracing herself, Nancy began to read.

  Dear Nancy,

  We’re missing you here in Linnow Creek. Lots of people asked after you at
the last youth singing. Mostly, though, the house seems empty without you. Mamm and Dat are fine. Although, Dat coughs a lot. He assures me that it’s nothing, but sometimes in the night, I hear him.

  Amos and Peter are fine, too. But brothers are never gut company like sisters are. I think of everyone here, I miss you the most.

  Are you having warm weather in Hollybrook? We’re not that far away, so I imagine our weather is about the same. I’ve already been leaving my window open at night. The bed seems mighty empty without you in it with me. Did you know that you can stretch wide and just barely touch the edges of the mattress?

  Nancy paused and smiled. Leave it to Linda to make something silly out of having a bed to herself. Nancy hadn’t minded sharing a room or a bed with Linda. They used to whisper long into the night about everything and nothing. It was a comfort to have such a close sister. Nancy’s chest constricted. Truth be told, she missed Linda. But avoiding her home unfortunately meant avoiding Linda, too.

  How is Cousin Irene? And little Debbie? And Zeke? Oh, he must be so precious. I’m envious of you in a way. I would love to be caring for a boppli. Maybe I can be a mother’s helper someday for—

  And here Linda had written something that she’d erased. Nancy swallowed. Had she written Susan’s name and then smudged it out? Had she? Did this mean that Susan was engaged? Nancy sucked in her breath. No. That couldn’t be. It wasn’t yet the season to be published. But was she secretly engaged, and she’d let Linda in on the secret. Nancy dropped the letter in her lap and stared out over the front yard. The willow tree spreading above the freshly-cut grass was already fully leafed-out, and the clumps of daffodils below were in full bloom. It made a pretty picture: serene, colorful, full of new life. But Nancy didn’t revel in the beauty as she usually would. Her mind was churning.

  She forced herself to keep reading.

  …Irene when she has her next boppli. Or you…

  Ach, I’m sorry, Nancy. I shouldn’t be talking about bopplis and such. I know your heart is still hurting. I’m so sorry. I should be with you. I miss you so much. You know I love Susan, too, but it’s not the same. She never was that close to us, was she? I’ve often wondered about it.

  She’s hurting, too, Nancy. I think she’s right sorry for how things turned out. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive her. And then, our family can be whole again.

  Mamm is sometimes weepy…

  Nancy stopped reading. Susan … sorry? Nancy didn’t think so. If she was so sorry, she’d break it off with Mark, wouldn’t she? If she was so sorry, she’d show it with her actions. Nancy licked her lips. Besides, she wasn’t even there in Linnow Creek anymore, so her relationship with Susan shouldn’t be a topic of concern.

  She was now in Hollybrook, doing God’s work, helping her cousin. No one could fault her for that, could they? And Nancy could hardly be blamed for breaking up her family. That was just Linda’s sense of the dramatic.

  In truth, Nancy’s leaving had helped her family. She’d removed herself from a horrible situation. By exiting herself, she’d taken away the source of tension and conflict.

  Nancy looked down at the letter again. She’d finish it later. She simply didn’t have the heart to finish it right then. Nor did she have the heart to write back. She opened the screen door and went back inside.

  “Irene?” she called. “Is Zeke ready to be put to bed?”

  Irene popped her head out from the kitchen. “I’m going to nurse him in a minute, and I’ll put him down. If you could get Debbie ready for bed, that would be wonderful.”

  “Of course. Glad to,” Nancy said. She heard Debbie in the front room squealing about something. Then she heard Philip’s deep laughter, and her heart caught.

  She wanted a family of her own. A husband of her own. A child of her own.

  Putting on a cheery smile, she entered the front room and swooped Debbie up into her arms.

  Chapter Two

  Nancy ended up reading two books to Debbie before she tucked her in with a prayer. Debbie had promptly curled up on her side, and Nancy pulled the light quilt over her, snuggling it beneath her chin. She kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  “Good-night, little one,” she whispered. She left the door of the room ajar and walked quietly across the hall to her own room.

  There were two beds, both narrow and pushed against opposite walls, leaving a nice amount of free space in the middle of her room. A fairly large window with light cotton curtains was situated between the two beds. A simple heavy dresser hugged the wall next to the door, and running around the room were a series of pegs where Nancy had hung her few dresses and kapps.

  Nancy sat on her bed and sighed. It had been a long day. Even though it was still early, she was tired. Did she dare turn in this soon? Both children were taken care of, and Irene had cleaned up the dinner dishes. She supposed she could go down and make breakfast preparations, but if she got up early she could just as easily do it in the morning.

  She glanced at the wind-up clock on the bedside table. It was barely eight o-clock. It would be absurd to go to bed so early, but that’s exactly what she wanted to do. She gave a rueful smile and stood up to undress. There was no reason in the world why she couldn’t turn in early. Her job for the day was complete.

  She shimmied out of her dress, took off her kapp, and pulled on her nightgown. Even just the feel of the soft cotton was a comfort. She sat on the bed and unwound her long hair, letting it fall over her shoulders in blond profusion. She grabbed up her brush and worked it through the gentle curls. What must it be like to leave one’s hair down? She could imagine how it would get in the way of her work. Yet… She tossed it over her shoulder, feeling its silky length, her mind still at play.

  She didn’t really know that much about the fancy people’s way of life. Of course, she knew some things. After all, the Amish weren’t the only residents of Linnow Creek, or Hollybrook either, for that matter. But she’d been schooled diligently on the dangers of mingling with the Englisch, and she’d taken the warnings to heart. She knew of more than one Amish person who’d been led astray when they’d gotten too friendly with the outside world.

  She padded down the hallway to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. On her way back to her room, she peeked inside Debbie’s room. The little girl was fast asleep, her chest rising and dipping rhythmically in the growing shadows. Nancy went into her own bedroom, opened the window a crack, and slipped into bed.

  Within minutes, she was asleep.

  Nancy stirred, thrashing her arms about. She was in that no man’s land of half-sleep, thinking her dream was painfully real. Susan was staring at her, laughing. “He never loved you,” she sneered. “He’s always loved me. Me. Me…”

  In her dream, the world began spinning hugely, in smooth swirls. Susan and Mark were embracing as it went round and round. Susan’s long brown hair was loose, blowing in the wind as the earth spun. Mark was laughing, and his hat tumbled off his head, whirling madly in the breeze as it rose out of sight.

  “Sorry, Nancy!” Susan laughed again. “But it’s true. No love for you today!”

  Mark threw back his head and chortled in glee. “No, Nancy! No love for you!”

  Nancy gasped and jolted upright in bed. She panted and felt the perspiration drip down her face. She bit her lip against the tears pushing at her eyes.

  And then something moved. She froze. There was someone there, in the other bed. Someone else was in the room with her! Her hand flew over her mouth, and she inhaled sharply. There it was again! Movement under the covers across the room.

  “Huh?” rumbled a male voice. “Who’s in here?”

  Chapter Three

  Luke Rupp sat up in bed and rubbed his face. Something rustling about had awakened him. When his eyes focused, he gulped back a fistful of air. “Who’s over there?”

  Whoever it was had scrambled from beneath the covers and jerked out of the bed across from him. It was a woman. His eyes nearly bugged from his face.
<
br />   “Who are you?” he asked, jumping out of bed himself. The floor was cold on his feet.

  The woman had backed against the wall and was edging her way toward the door. Even in the near dark, he could see the whites of her eyes. He was grateful for the moonlight falling through the window. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to make out a thing.

  “Wait,” he said. “Please. I won’t hurt you.”

  She paused.

  “I’m Luke,” he said.

  Silently, he chided himself. He should have warned Irene that he was coming back to Hollybrook. And he shouldn’t have sneaked into the house in the middle of the night and crawled up there to bed. What was he thinking?

  Well, he certainly wasn’t thinking that a strange woman would be in the bedroom he’d always used in the past.

  “Luke who?” she asked.

  Her voice was quiet, and even in her obvious fear, almost melodic. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Since when did he ever notice if a woman’s voice was melodic? Was he going soft?

  “Luke Rudd.” He rubbed his hand through his hair. “My mamm is Doris’s friend. And since Doris is Irene’s mamm, I’ve known Irene for years. Since we were little kids.”

  “My Aenti Doris?” she asked.

  “Doris is your aenti? Who are you?”

  She reached over and yanked the quilt from her bed, wrapping it snugly around herself. “I’m Nancy Slagel. Irene’s cousin.”

  “Wait…” He thought back to three summers ago. He’d met her. He was sure of it. She was the blond cousin from Linnow Creek. “We’ve met.”