Amish Days: The Runaway: An Amish Romance Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Read online

  Amish Days

  The Runaway

  An Amish Romance

  byBrenda Maxfield

  Copyright © 2015 Tica House Publishing All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

  My heartfelt thanks to Naomi, my Amish friend who told me about

  Christian Aid Ministries.

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  Table of Contents

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  One

  Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.

  Romans 12:12 (King James Version)

  This has to work. Everything depends on it.

  Mary threw the reins over the hitching post and reached into the buggy to retrieve her lemon meringue pie. She grimaced to think her plan depended on something as ridiculous as dessert—but that was the truth of it.

  The mare snorted and stomped, and the buggy jostled, throwing Mary off balance. Her thumb plunged straight through the fluffy meringue and into the filling.

  “Nee!” she cried. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked off the sweet mixture. Glaring at the gaping hole, she set the pie back on the seat. She attempted to smooth it over with her fingers—not a good move. Now in addition to a hole, there were lumpy blotches of meringue wobbling over the top. Quick tears sprang to her eyes. Crying over a silly pie? She leaned against the side of the buggy and pursed her lips.

  Perhaps if she wasn’t trying so hard to impress Hope and Abram, it wouldn’t matter so much. But she was trying to impress them. She had to prove her skills—it was the only way she could take over Hope’s pie-supplying job and earn money. Money she needed.

  Plus it gave her the chance to prove she wasn’t just Hope’s sister—the one with a bad temper and no courting prospects. She could be seen as competent and creative. Her nostrils flared slightly. She knew what people thought of her.

  Since forever, Hope had been the one to garner everyone’s attention, and now it seemed their little sister Ann was trotting right along in Hope’s footsteps. Mary had to admit no one could resist Ann, but would it hurt for Mary to catch someone’s eye once in a while? Even Sally and Jack, the two cousins who’d recently moved in after their mother died, got their share of attention.

  Mary grimaced, and her cheeks burned at her envious thoughts. It wasn’t proper to think on such things, nor to desire focus on herself. But there it was. Sometimes she wondered if she had been misplaced at birth and really belonged elsewhere. Some place where she wouldn’t have to guard each wicked thought that ran wildly through her head.

  Chocolate stomped again, whinnied, and flicked her tail, slapping the edge of Mary’s wool cape. Mary skittered to the side, gave a wry grin, and dug a handful of sugar cubes from the little bag inside her purse. She held the sugar out, open-palmed, to the mare. Chocolate’s breath puffed with a contented burst as she lapped the cubes into her mouth. Mary wiped her wet hand down her apron and gazed again at the ruined pie.

  With a sigh of aggravation, she grabbed it and marched up the creaking steps of Hope’s porch. She noted that Abram hadn’t gotten around to repainting the porch boards, which was really no surprise. Abram’s leg had suffered a nasty break and it still bothered him, making such tasks difficult. However, the fact that Hope hadn’t gotten around to the painting was surprising.

  Mary thumped her hip on the screen door and Hope appeared within seconds.

  “I thought I heard the buggy,” Hope exclaimed with an engaging smile. “Ach, it’s cold out there. Hurry in.”

  A blast of wood heat warmed Mary as she brushed around Hope into the house. She glanced into the sitting room where Abram lounged in the oak rocker with his bad leg stretched out before him. And there beside him was … Mary’s heart lurched.

  Josiah?

  Hope could have warned her.

  Josiah looked at Mary and stood awkwardly. He ran his hand through chestnut-colored hair that nearly reached his shoulders. “Hello, Mary. Hope mentioned you’d be coming for supper.”

  “She certainly never told me you’d be here,” Mary countered, then clamped her mouth shut—too late to squelch her words. Warmth spread up her neck, and she yearned to drop through the floor to the cellar.

  Josiah’s brow rose over a puzzled expression. “Uh, well, here I am.”

  Hope took Mary’s arm and rushed her into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” she asked. “You like Josiah! I asked him over especially for you.”

  Mary planted her feet on the worn kitchen floor. “It’s been downright awkward ever since you tried to match-make us at your wedding dinner. And did you tell him I liked him? Is today a pity mission?”

  Hope frowned. “Do you think me daft? Of course, I didn’t tell him!” She turned to the stove and gave the boiling potatoes a firm stir.

  Air seeped from Mary’s lips, and she relaxed her stance. “Sorry. And it was right nice of you to invite him. So thank you.”

  Hope rolled her eyes. “What’s the matter with you lately, our Mary? Why are you so out of sorts? I declare, you act like a bee slamming itself into a window pane trying to escape.”

  “I do not.” Mary stepped to the stove to help Hope dish up the potatoes. But Hope’s words described her to perfection, and she knew it. “Trouble is, Josiah doesn’t like me.”

  “You don’t know that,” Hope said, laying down the slotted metal spoon.

  “But I do,” Mary said. She looked at her pie, sitting next to a rack weighed down with three of Hope’s perfect pies. “I had a little accident with the lemon meringue. Kind of stuck my thumb through it.”

  Hope bit her lips, obviously trying to squelch laughter. Mary grimaced and then gave her sister a gentle push. “Ach, how can I hope to compete with your pies?”

  “T’aint the county fair, Mary. We’re not competing. And those pies are for the markets, you know that.” She nodded toward her faultless pastries. “Besides, your pie will be delicious.”

  The two sisters set out bowls laden with stew, potatoes, and beans. Mary added a basket heaped with homemade rolls. The four of them sat down at Hope’s beautiful new maple table—the one painstakingly made by an uncle of Abram’s as a wedding gift. It truly was a thing of beauty, and Hope kept it polished and shining. Mary sat on the bench next to Hope, and Josiah sat across from them. Abram presided at the head of the table.

  “Let’s pray,” Abram said, and they bent their heads in silence. Mary’s mind flitted between thoughts of God and whether Josiah would like her pie. She scolded herself for such unprayer-like thoughts, and beseeched God for forgiveness and a willing spirit. Abram cleared his throat loudly, and they all said amen.

  While everyone enjoyed Hope’s beef stew, Mary decided to declare her intentions and move forward with her plan. “Hope, I was thinking maybe I could take over your pie business.”

  Both Hope and Abram dropped their spoons and stared at her. Even Josiah stopped chewing and looked up.

  “But, Mary, you don’t like to bake!” Hope exclaimed and then reddened as she must have realized what she’d divulged in front of her sister’s hopeful beau. “I mean … well, what I meant to say is baking pies isn�
�t your favorite type of baking.”

  Mary put a determined smile on her face. “Perhaps. But in the beginning, I know you were only baking pies for the money to fix up the house. And it’s fixed up now.”

  Hope shook her head. “Nee, it isn’t.” Her eyes flashed to her husband. “It still needs some major repairs. That’s why Josiah is here.”

  Mary’s gaze darted to Josiah, who had focused completely on Hope. He swallowed his bite of stew and his expression grew eager and warm.

  “Starting today, Josiah’s agreed to stay with us and help Abram with the foundation while the fields lay fallow.” Hope picked up her fork and took a dainty bite of potatoes.

  Abram nodded. “We’re mighty grateful, too.” He reached over and slapped his cousin on the back. “Couldn’t do it without you, Josiah.”

  Josiah shrugged. “Sure you could, but I’m glad to help.”

  “So you’re not going to be staying with the Lambrights anymore?” Mary asked.

  “We’re the Lambrights, too,” Hope said and laughed. “Ach, I know what you mean, Mary. I’m only teasing.”

  Abram looked at his wife with an intimate smile. “My folks are glad to share Josiah with us. We’re hoping to fill this house up one way or the other.”

  There was an awkward silence as everyone digested his words. Mary glanced at her sister.

  “Are you…?” Mary coughed and covered her mouth. Private things were not discussed at the supper table. She picked up the bowl full of green beans her mamm had canned for the winter and ignored her rising suspicions. “More beans, Abram?”

  Abram held out his hand, and everyone went on as if no one had spoken.

  When the main meal was finished, Hope brought in plates with slices of Mary’s lemon meringue pie. Mary fidgeted with her napkin, hoping everyone would like it, which would open the door for her to bring up her request again.

  Josiah took a hearty bite and nodded. “Good pie, Mary. Tastes fine.”

  Mary’s chest swelled, and she let out the breath she’d been holding. Abram and Hope tucked into the pie and both of them smiled their approval.

  Mary toyed with her fork, sliding a bite around the plate. She nervously smoothed back the loose blond curls at her ears and turned to her sister. “So, can I take over the pie baking?”

  Abram surveyed her. “How about you tell us why the sudden interest? Are you in need of money? Are your parents in trouble?”

  Hope turned to Mary and grabbed her forearm. “Is everything okay at home? What’s going on? Is Ann all right?”

  Mary shook her head and held up her hand. “Everyone’s fine. This has nothing to do with them. I have a project in mind, and I need money.”

  “Project?” Hope asked, and her brows crinkled over her deep brown eyes. “You have a project? What is it?”

  Mary swallowed past the lump of nerves in her throat. This was it—the first time she’d voiced her idea out loud. “I’m going to raise dairy goats.”

  If she’d announced her engagement to an Englischer, it couldn’t have brought a more stunned reaction. Mary squirmed and gazed around the table at the identical looks of shock on each of their faces.

  “Goats?” Abram asked.

  “Dairy goats?” Josiah’s right eyebrow rose, and Mary could see the hint of a dimple in his cheek.

  Hope scooted back on the bench. “But why? And that’s man’s work.”

  “I like goats, and I want to do this.” She didn’t mention that all her life she’d wanted something to call her own. Something that she could throw her heart into. That kind of revelation would be dangerously misunderstood, and she wasn’t in the mood for lectures about proper behavior for an Amish girl.

  But the truth of it never left her. Since she could remember, she’d watched Hope become expert at baking; she’d watched Ann become expert with all the animals on the farm—even displaying a magical touch with flowers, and now she watched her cousin Jack become expert at fixing things such as bikes, buggy parts, and tools. His sister Sally had even started embroidering, and she was good.

  And then there was her. Oh, certainly, she did a great job with the washing. And the cleaning. And the mending. All wonderful skills for a housewife.

  The perfect housewife who had no husband or interested prospects.

  Hope’s eyes remained stretched wide as she scrutinized Mary’s face.

  “I’ve been studying up,” Mary said as she rushed on. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Guterson. More than once. He raises goats and says there’s a market for goat’s milk and cheese. Many people can’t tolerate cow’s milk, and goat’s milk is milder and suits them better.”

  “You’ve spoken with Mr. Guterson?” Hope’s voice was skeptical. “When and why were you speaking with him?”

  “I went with my friend Josie to pick up some goat cheese a while back, and the goats were so cute and—”

  “Cute? I’m sure they were cute, but Mary, there’s more to raising goats than being cute.”

  “I know that, and don’t be so surprised.” Irritation toward her sister swished through her. Under the table, she clasped her hands into a fist. “I can do this, Hope. I can. I just need some money to get started. I’ve already told Mr. Guterson I’ll be buying two does from him in the new year.”

  She glanced quickly at Josiah to see his reaction. He hadn’t eaten another bite of pie since the conversation had started. But now, he calmly took another forkful and chewed.

  “Pie’s good,” he said, his words slow. “Shouldn’t have trouble selling them.”

  A rush of gratitude filled Mary. She smiled at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were fixed on Hope.

  A sick feeling twisted inside Mary’s belly. Josiah still liked Hope. He’d always liked Hope. Mary straightened her shoulders. Fine. Yet another reason for her to concentrate on something besides her lack of courting prospects.

  “Hope, I wasn’t keen on you working outside the home from the start,” Abram said in a thoughtful manner. He placed his large hand on Hope’s arm. “I do concede it’s been a big help. But maybe Mary could take over, at least for a while. Until she has what she needs.”

  “Do Mamm and Dat know your plans?” Hope asked.

  “They will.”

  Hope turned to Abram, then to Mary, and back to Abram. She put her fingers to her lips and let out a heavy sigh. Finally, she gave her husband a nod. “All right, Abram. If you think it’s for the best.”

  Mary’s eyes danced. She gave her brother-in-law a warm glance of gratitude.

  It was going to happen. She was going to get her goats.

  Two

  When she returned home, Mary took the stairs two at a time to her bedroom. She needed a moment to plan her strategy. If she broached her goat plan to her dat first and he agreed, then there would be no problem. On the other hand, her mamm might be sympathetic and help convince her dat.

  Sally was in their bedroom, thumbing across her phone screen. “I’m at twenty percent,” she exclaimed with a grimace.

  “Twenty percent of what?” Mary asked and sat next to the folded quilt at the end of the bed.

  “Twenty percent of battery left.”

  “I thought you charged your phone at school every day.”

  Sally tossed her cell onto the bed. “Forgot my charger. Geez, having no electricity is the worst.”

  Mary pursed her lips. She knew the transition to Amish life had been tough on both Sally and Jack, but the constant griping scraped. Mary wouldn’t admit to herself that maybe it irritated her so much because she agreed with her cousin. About an alarming number of things, in fact. But admitting that would open a dangerous door.

  “How was supper at Hope’s?” Sally asked, staring at Mary with her large heavily made-up eyes. “I wanted to go. If you’d waited to eat there for dinner instead, I would have been home from school in time.”

  Mary rested her hands on her lap, and her expression grew serious. “There’s something I’ve been wondering, Sally. Actually, I�
��ve wondered about it since I overheard some Englischers talking at the Feed and Supply.” She cleared her throat. “What’s it like going to school when you’re so old?”

  “So old? How is being almost seventeen old? Anyway, they treat us like babies at school. Especially here. Did you know they have a closed campus at Hollybrook High?” Sally rolled her eyes as if she’d never heard anything so disgusting.

  “Closed campus?”

  Sally scowled and picked at the toe of her sock. “It means that once you arrive on campus, you can’t leave for any reason. In Ohio, we got to go to Burger Palace or even the drugstore. We’re prisoners here.”

  “But all the learning you get to do. What’s it like? And is it true that you can find the answer to any question on a computer?”

  “Sure, it’s true—if you’ve got Internet. Might take a bit of searching, but the answers are there. Why? You want to know something?” She picked up her phone. “I can look it up for you.”

  Mary stared at the tiny screen and then shook her head. “Nee, I was only wondering. We go to the library in town sometimes. But Mamm supervises which books we check out. Don’t much go anymore.”

  “Books are passé. Most people read digital books now.”

  “Digital books?”

  “On e-readers or computers. I read on my phone lots of times.”

  “You read whole books on your phone? Does it cost money?” She leaned closer to Sally, staring at the phone with renewed interest.

  “If I buy them, it does. But lots of them are free. And there’s a ton for less than a dollar.” She eyed her cousin. “What’s the deal?”

  Mary stood and walked to the window. The fields lay barren, all remnants of last summer’s crop plowed under. The lumpy stretches of soil made Mary sad somehow.

  Sally jumped off the bed and joined her. “Why are you Miss Curious all of a sudden? Don’t you plan to get married soon, like Hope, and start your own family? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”