Amish Romance BOXED SET: Amish Days: Hope's Story Read online

  Amish Days

  Hope’s Story

  A Three-Story-Bundle Amish Romance

  by Brenda Maxfield

  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. Copyright © 2015 Tica House Publishing

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  1.Amish Days: Missing Abram

  2.Amish Days: Abram’s Plan

  3.Amish Days: Abram’s Bride

  Amish Days

  Missing Abram

  An Amish Short Story Romance

  by Brenda Maxfield

  Dedicated to my Amish Friends in Hollybrook

  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. Copyright © 2015 Tica House Publishing

  © Cover Art by Ardelean Emanuela

  One

  The counsel of the LORD standeth forever,

  the thoughts of his heart to all generations.

  Psalm 33:11 (King James Version)

  The hard-working horse whinnied and stomped her hoof in the dust.

  “Hush, Chocolate,” Hope murmured, absently rubbing the white spot above the mare’s nose. She squinted in the bright sunlight, her thick lashes doing little to shade her honey-brown eyes. “Just a few minutes more. I promise.”

  Three bags of chicken feed were tucked into the buggy—chicken feed that wasn’t necessary. Hope’s father had several bags of feed stored in the back corner of the barn where three cats dutifully chased the mice away.

  But what other excuse did Hope have for going to the Feed & Supply on a hot Tuesday morning? And she did need an excuse.

  For Tuesday was the day Abram Lambright went for supplies.

  Chocolate nuzzled Hope’s shoulder, but she didn’t notice. An approaching buggy had her full attention. She recognized the Lambright’s road horse, Sprint. The old mare could no longer trot a straight line. She veered left, forcing whoever drove her to exercise a strong hand and a quick wit.

  Hope’s heart sang. Abram.

  A light breeze caught the soft brown curls at her ears, blowing them across her cheeks. She hurriedly tucked them back under her kapp. She licked her bottom lip and forced herself to be calm. She’d known Abram for years. No reason to get riled up at the sight of his tall silhouette and broad shoulders now.

  No reason at all.

  Besides, she shouldn’t notice such things.

  Sprint’s unsteady clip—clop came closer and Hope’s excitement plummeted. It wasn’t Abram driving the buggy at all, but rather his younger brother Daniel with his little sister, Mercy.

  “Hi, Hope!” Mercy half-stood in the jolting buggy and waved wildly until a rut in the road plopped her back onto the seat.

  Hope swallowed her disappointment. “Hi, back,” she called to her young friend.

  Daniel pulled on the reins and guided Sprint to a stop. Mercy hurtled out of the buggy and skipped over. “Where’s Abram?” she asked, turning her freckled face and green eyes toward Hope.

  “What do you mean where’s Abram? I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “He’s not home. Mamm said you might know since he’s sweet on you.”

  Hope’s cheeks burned. Had Abram’s mother been watching?

  Daniel joined them. He seemed jumpy and though he smiled at her, it didn’t hide the look of concern in his eyes. Hope’s stomach tensed.

  “What’s this about Abram? Where is he?” she asked.

  Daniel shuffled his feet in the dirt and wouldn’t meet her eyes. Hope touched his forearm. “Where is he?” she asked again.

  “Likely off doing chores. It’s nothing,” Daniel answered. “Come on, Mercy, we’ve got to get moving or Mamm will never trust us to come again.”

  Mercy’s eyes widened. “Sorry, Hope. I have to go.”

  “Wait. Aren’t your mamm and dat worried? Is Abram in some kind of trouble?”

  Daniel took Mercy by the shoulders and shuffled her up the steps of the shop. “See you, Hope,” he called over his shoulder.

  Mercy wiggled loose and ran back to Hope, her light blue dress billowing around skinny legs. “They think he’s back with the Englischers.”

  Hope frowned and nausea stormed through her. “What? But why? I don’t understand. He came back from his rumspringa months ago.”

  “Mercy!” Daniel’s voice was sharp.

  Mercy turned. “I’m coming!”

  Hope watched Daniel open the shop door for Mercy and heard the clank from the old rusted bell hanging just inside. They disappeared behind the windowed door.

  Beads of sweat lined Hope’s upper lip. Hardly mid-morning and the Indiana sun was already beating down with a vengeance. She swiped the moisture away and climbed into the buggy. Lost in thought, she batted at the circling flies, took up the reins, and clucked her tongue at Chocolate to start home. Her thin body erect, she paid no mind as her kapp slipped back a bit over the chestnut braid she’d twisted and pinned up earlier that morning.

  Endless fields of tall stalks of corn bordered the road like massive walls of green, creating the feel of a narrow covered bridge. All was quiet except the soft rustle of wind and steady rhythm of Chocolate’s hooves beating the pavement.

  Uneasiness poured over Hope like molasses. Where was Abram? What was he doing? Was he all right? Why wasn’t Daniel talking?

  But most important of all, why hadn’t Abram told her he was leaving?

  ****

  Back home, Hope took care of the buggy, stroked Chocolate, and then turned her out into the field. She rushed, worry over Abram riddling her nerves.

  Inside the house, her aunt Ruth sat in the rocker on the multi-colored rug Hope and her mother had braided two years before. Ruth fanned herself with a dishtowel and smiled when Hope burst through the door. “Going to be miserable hot today,” she observed, her crooked front tooth making her look much younger than her forty-three years.

  Hope nodded. She liked Ruth—liked the happy spirit she brought to the house. But right then she was distracted by the pain beginning in her ankle. She hurried to the wooden staircase where she took the steps two at a time up to the bedroom she shared with her seventeen-year-old sister, Mary.

  “Hope!” Ruth called after her. “Are you limping again? What’s wrong?”

  Yes, she was limping again, but she hated to admit it. Ever since a disastrous fall off a plow horse at age three, Hope’s ankle registered stress with pain and a limp. Just like Grandmother’s arthritic knees warned everyone of an impending storm.

  Hope pushed the bedroom door closed behind her and crossed the smooth plank floor to pull out the middle drawer of her dresser. She reached under her stockings and retrieved a folded piece of paper.

  She sank onto the bed and carefully opened the note, pressing it flat on her lap.

  Hope, I missed seeing you last year when I was gone on rumspringa for so long.

  I enjoy hearing your voice at Sunday Night Singing.

  Abram

  Abram had slipped her the note during the singing just two days before, and she’d hardly stopped reading it since. She harbored the idea that it was a sort of love note.

  But if it was a love note, and if he was interested in her, wouldn’t he have told her he was leaving? Especially if he was returning to the Englischers, like Mercy implied? Hope knew all about the family he’d spent time with during his rumspringa. She knew all about the new best friend he’d made. Robby. Robby Wallace, whose father own
ed some sort of factory and was rolling in money. Or so Abram had reported.

  Hope had seen the fire of yearning in Abram’s eyes when he spoke of them, and her stomach had soured with dread. Abram hadn’t been baptized into the church since returning. What was he waiting for? Did he want to become an outsider? An Englischer? And if he wanted to leave the community, how were the two of them ever to court or marry?

  Hope chided herself. Not that he’d asked her. Not that he’d done anything really, except make sure he spoke to her after Sunday singing and every Tuesday when she found some excuse to be outside the Feed & Supply.

  Yet now, there was the note.

  Every other Sunday after every youth singing, Hope prayed that he would ask to give her a ride home in his buggy. But he never did. Not once.

  She slumped back on the shadow quilt covering her bed and pressed Abram’s note to her heart. The white curtains flanking the window stirred as a hot, heavy breeze moved through the room. Who was she kidding? Abram wasn’t interested in her. He probably thought of her as another sister.

  Quick tears pricked her eyes and a sense of loss moved up her throat. Abram was so strong, so kind, so everything she wanted. And it was time. She was old enough to be courted. Old enough to be in love and promised.

  Old enough to be married.

  Matthew 6:33 flashed through her mind. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.

  Would marriage be added unto her? And children? And her own home?

  She closed her eyes and took a slow, even breath to quiet her racing heart. She had to be honest with herself. What she really wanted was Abram added unto her.

  It was Abram she wanted.

  Two

  Abram sat on the edge of a padded lounge chair next to a tiled kidney-shaped pool.

  “Relax, man,” Robby said. He clapped his friend on the back. “Do all Amish take everything so seriously? You make me tired.”

  Abram took a moment before speaking. “I can’t answer for all Amish. Do all Englischers take nothing seriously?”

  “Touché,” Robby said and laughed.

  Abram tugged at the neck of his factory uniform. Englisch clothes still felt strange to him. After wearing them so often during his rumspringa, he figured he’d be used to them. But still, they itched and just felt wrong.

  “How long are you here for this time?” Robby asked. He grabbed a can of soda from the ice bucket sitting on the patio table and offered it to Abram.

  Abram accepted the drink and popped it open. He took a long, deep swig, relishing the cold liquid on such a sweltering day. “A few weeks at least. Maybe a bit more. Then I have to return—Dat will need me in the fields.” Abram ran a hand through wavy hair so dark, it was almost black. “He probably needs me now…”

  “I’m surprised you came again. Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad you’re here. But I thought you already had enough money for another horse and whatever else you were saving for. Do other Amish guys use their rumspringa or however you call it to earn money? I thought it was to run around and be wild.” Robby stretched out his long legs and propped his bare feet on the table. “Is that why you’re back? Because you missed being free?”

  Abram stiffened. “I am free.”

  There was an edge to his voice, and Robby raised his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I know.” Abram rubbed his strong, calloused palms over the thick plastic arms of the chair. “You let me stay in your guest house, and your father is letting me work the factory line. I’m grateful.”

  “But…”

  Abram’s smoky-gray eyes gazed into the clear sky. “But.”

  “It’s the girl, isn’t it?”

  Abram pressed his lips together and didn’t answer. He should have told Hope. He should have declared his intentions. He wondered what she was thinking. Did she even know he was gone? Did she care?

  He stared at Robby’s cell phone lying on the glass table and wished he could call her. Hear her sweet voice. Tell her he had a plan. That his purpose was solid.

  But the closest phone to Hope was in a shanty five miles from her house in front of the Feed & Supply. He gave a rueful smile. Wouldn’t someone be surprised if the phone there started ringing, and he asked to speak to Hope Lehman?

  “What’s so funny?” Robby asked.

  “Thinking of home,” Abram said. He stood and set the empty soda can on the table. “I’m going to change clothes.”

  He strode around the pool toward a small cottage situated at the back of the expansive yard. Before he got there, Robby’s redheaded sister Rene emerged from the pool house to his right, wearing a gauze cover-up over a fire-red bikini.

  “Abram, there you are!” Her voice tinkled like wind chimes. “Want to take a dip with me?”

  Abram averted his eyes. “No, thanks,” he said and proceeded to the door of the cottage.

  Rene gave a light giggle. “Why am I not surprised?” she called after him.

  Abram shut the cottage door and leaned against the cool wood. His quarters were cold and the hum of central air sounded like the low whine of a tree full of cicadas. He sank to the edge of the sprawling bed.

  What was he doing here? His people didn’t mix with outsiders. Not like this. He pulled again at the neck of his uniform.

  But his plan wouldn’t work without money, and he couldn’t put the burden for help on his father. Maybe another time, but not after last year’s crop. And the factory work paid well. Very well. Better than anything near Hollybrook. Up north, many Amish worked in factories, but not in his community. The Amish near Hollybrook had remained farmers, and according to his father, that was the way it would stay.

  He folded his uniform in a neat pile on the bedside table. With relief, he stepped back into his own clothes. There would be no church at home that Sunday, but the following weekend, he’d arrange for a van to take him back so he could attend service.

  So he could see Hope again.

  Three

  Hope sat at the long wooden table staring into a large plastic bowl of green beans. If she grabbed three at once, she could take the ends off them with two snaps instead of six—getting herself out of the sweltering house faster. Maybe she’d have time to escape to the stand of oak trees out back for a while.

  Mary stood at the sink, humming.

  “What are you so happy about?” Hope asked.

  Mary turned, her hands dripping on the rag rug. “The Lambrights have a nephew. He might be coming to stay with them.”

  “How does that concern you?” Hope asked.

  Mary grabbed up a dishtowel, rushed over, and plopped down on the bench opposite her. “You can say that because you have Abram. I have no one!”

  Hope sucked in her breath. She’d been doing so well—keeping Abram out of her waking thoughts. At night, though, his strong-boned face haunted her. His warm smile. His charcoal eyes staring into hers. And two nights before, she’d thought she heard his deep laugh. But it was only Mary, groaning and tossing in the bed next to hers.

  “Are you listening to me?” Mary asked.

  Hope stood quickly, nearly toppling the bench behind her. “I’m always listening,” she said. Compassion for her sister filled her heart. She understood only too well Mary’s desires. “Beans are done. I’m going outside.”

  “Mamm and Ruth will be back soon. They expect us to have the table set and dinner cooking. Plus we haven’t made the sugar cream pie yet. You know I can’t make a crust as flaky as yours.”

  “I’ll be back in time.” Hope gave her sister’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Then she pulled off her apron and tossed it onto the back of the rocker. The screen door squawked as she stepped outside. She inhaled the muggy air, feeling a tightness low in her lungs.

  Dear Gott, please help me to keep my eyes on You. Help me not to get distracted with things that don’t concern me.

  Nearly two weeks had passed, and she’
d not heard one grain of news. If Abram didn’t show up for the church meeting that Sunday, everyone would know he’d left. People already wondered why he’d been gone on rumspringa for so long the year before. And why hadn’t he accepted baptism the minute he’d returned? The Lambrights were strangely silent on the whole business.

  Which was odd in itself.

  Hope yearned to talk to Mercy. If the Lambrights had learned anything, Mercy would tell her. Hope wandered behind the house and headed toward the oaks. She walked slowly, favoring her right ankle. It had been bothering her since she’d found out Abram had disappeared.

  The ankle—her public announcement that something was wrong. Again, she wondered why all her stress had to reveal itself in such an obvious way. When she attempted to hide the pain or the limp, it was worse. Well, she’d have to disguise it somehow on Sunday when Abram didn’t show. It was embarrassing enough that her family knew how troubled she was. She didn’t need to alert the entire community.

  Under the shade of the oaks, the temperature was cooler by a few degrees. Hope sank onto the mound of grass she had retreated to since childhood. She leaned against the rough bark of the largest oak tree and looked at the tiny lumps of soil scattered about, now overgrown with grass. They made up her miniature cemetery. When she was barely six, she had discovered a dead bluebird next to the barn. Its little body was limp and its beak was pressed open in a perpetual cry for help.

  Without telling mother, she’d carried it gently in the folds of her apron out to the stand of oaks where she’d buried it with a prayer and a song. Since that day, she’d buried an assortment of dead animals—mostly found out in the fields, but sometimes in the barn.

  Hope’s muscles began to relax. Gott, please help Abram, wherever he is. Help him see the error of his—

  She paused. That was a daring prayer. And prideful. It wasn’t her place to judge. She didn’t even know what Abram was doing. She began again, Dear Gott, please bless Abram. Help him to rest in your love and safety—