An Amish marriage of convenience
A new North Country Amish novel
Secretly pregnant and unwed, Gemma Lapp has a difficult choice—face her Amish community or raise her baby alone. But when a storm strands Gemma in the wilderness with her former crush, Jesse Crump, she knows her secret won’t be safe for long. Gemma can’t imagine trusting a man again...until Jesse proposes a marriage of convenience. Could their arrangement lead to love?
“What’s wrong, Gemma?” Jesse came around the fireplace.
She sat up and drew her knees up under her cloak. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You use that word far too often. How can you be fine?”
“You have a point. I would love a cup of hot tea and a cracker. Any chance that Dale left some in his toolbox?”
“I’ll check. Chamomile or Earl Grey?”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Jesse Crump has a sense of humor.”
“Don’t look so amazed.” He stoked the fire.
“I noticed it was snowing again while I was on the porch. Heavily. No one will be able to follow our tracks, will they?”
“Nope.” At least she understood why help wouldn’t be coming.
“So, what do we do?”
“The hardest thing of all in a survival situation. Stay put.”
Her eyes grew wide. “When you say survival situation, are you telling me that we are in serious trouble?”
There was a long silence. “Ja. We are.”
After thirty-five years as a nurse, Patricia Davids hung up her stethoscope to become a full-time writer. She enjoys spending her free time visiting her grandchildren, doing some long-overdue yard work and traveling to research her story locations. She resides in Wichita, Kansas. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her online at patriciadavids.com.
Books by Patricia Davids
Love Inspired
North Country Amish
An Amish Wife for Christmas
Shelter from the Storm
The Amish Bachelors
An Amish Harvest
An Amish Noel
His Amish Teacher
Their Pretend Amish Courtship
Amish Christmas Twins
An Unexpected Amish Romance
His New Amish Family
HQN Books
The Amish of Cedar Grove
The Wish
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SHELTER FROM THE STORM
Patricia Davids
For thou hast been a strength to the poor,
a strength to the needy in his distress,
a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the
heat, when the blast of the terrible ones
is as a storm against the wall.
—Isaiah 25:4
This book is dedicated to all the men and women who work in neonatal intensive care units across the country. You care for the least of God’s children. May you know abundant peace and joy in your work.
Contents
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
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Her Forgotten Cowboy by Deb Kastner
Chapter One
That couldn’t be Gemma Lapp.
Jesse Crump turned in his seat to get a better look at the Amish woman on the sidewalk waiting to cross the street. She was wearing a black Amish traveling bonnet and a long dark gray cloak. She was pulling a black wheeled suitcase behind her. He couldn’t get a good look at her face. His driver and coworker, Dale Kaufman, pulled ahead when the light changed, and Jesse lost sight of her. There was nothing outward to suggest it was Gemma other than the Amish clothing but something about her, perhaps her small stature, reminded him strongly of the woman he wished he could forget.
“What’s the matter?” Dale asked, noticing Jesse staring behind them. “Is something wrong with the load?” He slowed the pickup and trailer carrying two large garden sheds.
Jesse turned around to stare straight ahead. “I thought I saw someone I knew.”
“That Amish woman waiting to cross the street?”
Dale knew Gemma. Jesse hoped he had gotten a better look. “Ja, did you see who it was?”
“I saw she was Amish by her clothing, but I couldn’t see her face because of that big black bonnet. Who did you think it was?”
“Gemma Lapp.” He had been thinking about her lately. She was on his mind far too often. Perhaps that was why he imagined he saw her.
Dale glanced his way. “You mean Leroy Lapp’s daughter? I thought she was in Florida. Boy, that would be a great place to live during the winter, wouldn’t it? Have you ever been there?”
“Nee.” Jesse was sorry he’d said anything. Most of the three-hour drive had been made in silence, the way Jesse liked it, but only after Dale tired of Jesse’s one-word answers to his almost endless chatter.
Dale accelerated. The ancient truck’s gears grated when he shifted. “It could be that she’s on her way home for a visit. The bus station in Cleary is just down the block from that corner.”
“Maybe.”
Dale shook his head. “Nah. Leroy would’ve mentioned something if she was coming home. That girl is the apple of his eye. She was always easy on the eyes if you ask me. Too bad she got baptized before I had the chance to ask her out.”
Jesse scowled at Dale. The man wasn’t Amish, but he worked for an Amish bishop. “If you want to keep delivering sheds and supplies for Bishop Schultz, you’d better not let him hear such talk.” It was the longest comment Jesse had ever made to the man.
Dale’s stunned expression proved he got the point. “I meant no disrespect, Jesse. I like Gemma. You know how Leroy is always rattling on about her.”
Jesse leaned his head back and stared out the window at the homes and small businesses of Cleary, Maine, flashing past. He had eavesdropped on Leroy’s conversations about Gemma a few times. He knew about her job in Pinecrest at a pie shop, about the large number of friends she was making among the Englisch and Amish folks, and how much she loved the ocean, but he had never asked about her himself.
Bishop Elmer Schultz—like most of the men in their community, including Jesse—had a second occupation, in addition to being a potato farmer. The bishop owned a small business that made storage sheds in various sizes. Jesse had worked for him since coming to Maine three years ago when the community of New Covenant was first founded.
Starting a new Amish colony anywhere was filled with challenges, but the rugged country of northern Maine had its own unique trials. Here, more than anywhere, a man had to depend on the people around him in times of trouble. There was no certainty that the community founded by Elijah Troyer could survive. Elijah had passed away two years ago. Nine of the original ten families remained and more had come the past summer.
The move to New Covenant, Maine, may have
been a difficult choice for some of the families in the community, but not for Jesse. He had jumped at the chance. In Maine he didn’t have to hang his head because he wasn’t as smart as some or because he was bigger than everyone else. In Ohio he’d been known as Jesse the Ox since his school days.
The child of a single mother, he’d been orphaned at thirteen. He quit school and became a hired man with no hope of owning his own land until he answered an ad in the Amish newspaper seeking hardy souls willing to settle in northern Maine and offering a small parcel of land as an incentive. The beautiful scenery of Maine and plenty of hard work soon overshadowed Jesse’s memories of his unhappy early years. Until Gemma Lapp managed to reopen those old wounds with her sharp tongue.
He could still see her standing with her arms crossed and her face flaming red as she sputtered, “Jesse Crump, you’re as big as an ox and dumber than a post.”
All because he had rebuffed her offer of marriage.
She had barely been twenty-one at the time, not old enough to know what love was, but she’d taken the notion that she was in love with him. He’d suffered through weeks of her attempts to gain his affection. She tried everything from fresh-baked pies delivered to him at work, letters full of her newfound love, even getting her father to hire him to do handiwork on their farm, where she was always close by, chatting about how wonderful it would be to marry and have children.
He was almost eight years her senior and not interested in settling down until he had enough land to support a family. Her proposal wouldn’t have been so bad if they had been alone, but they hadn’t been. A half dozen people overheard her offer, his pointed rejection and her scathing words in reply.
The snickers, taunts and jeers that had made his school years and young-adult life miserable were only in his head but in that moment, Gemma had unlocked feelings of inferiority he had lived with for years and worked hard to overcome. If she saw him that way, surely others did too.
He kept to himself after that day, hoping her remarks would be forgotten, but they stayed stuck in his head, even though no one else echoed them. He strove to avoid being anywhere near Gemma for the next six months. Big as an ox and dumber than a post. It wasn’t until she left New Covenant that he stopped hearing her words. In spite of her comment, he hadn’t disliked Gemma. She was loyal to her friends. She was a hard worker. She had a good sense of humor, but she was also headstrong and willful.
It had been nearly a year and a half since the embarrassing incident. He thought he’d put it out of his mind, but it seemed he hadn’t.
Gemma’s father, Leroy Lapp, worked with Jesse at the bishop’s business. Leroy had recently been chosen to become the community’s second minister. The influx of six new families in the spring had swelled the congregation, making it more than Bishop Schultz and his first minister, Samuel Yoder, could manage. Especially now that plans were underway to start their own Amish school.
“Maybe she’s making a surprise visit,” Dale said when the silence stretched too long to suit him.
“Maybe you could drive faster. It’s almost noon.”
“What’s your hurry? We’ve got all day.”
“I’ve got to get back before the bank closes. I need to get a cashier’s check for the earnest money the auction company requires I put up before I can bid on the property I’ve got my eye on. They want ten thousand dollars to prove I can afford the land.”
“Oh, right. The land auction. I almost forgot about that.” Dale shot Jesse a sheepish glance and focused his attention on the road.
The farm Jesse owned was small, but he had plans to expand. The money he’d made building sheds over the last few years would help pay for more land. He had his eye on eighty acres that bordered his property to the west. It was fertile land ready for planting in the spring. He couldn’t ask for a better piece of property. It was going up for auction the day after tomorrow. The auction company required earnest money in the form of a cashier’s check or cash before anyone was allowed to bid and Jesse wasn’t about to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime.
He gazed out the passenger’s-side window at the farms that lined the highway, interspersed with heavy forests already covered with the first snow of winter. His thoughts drifted from the land he intended to purchase back to Gemma. If Gemma did come to visit her family in northern Maine, it wouldn’t be in the middle of November. Gemma didn’t like the snow. To hear her tell it, she didn’t like much of anything about Maine.
He was sure his name topped the list of things she disliked most about the North Country.
* * *
“There won’t be another bus going that way until the day after tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Gemma stared at the agent behind the counter in stunned disbelief.
The tall thin man with thick glasses stopped writing in a logbook of some sort and peered at her over the top of his glasses. “Of course I’m sure. I work for the bus company.”
She held up the flyer she had picked up in Boston. “The schedule said there is a bus going to Caribou every day.”
“Look at the small print. There is, until the fifteenth of November. After that, bus service drops to every other day until the fifteenth of April. Today’s bus left two hours ago. Won’t be another one until the day after tomorrow. Next,” he called out, leaning to look around her.
Only one elderly man stood behind her. He held out a piece of white pipe. “Do you have a J-trap that will fit this size and PVC glue?”
“I sure do, but you’ll need cleaner, as well.” The agent came out from behind the counter and led the man to the plumbing section of the hardware store that doubled as a bus station in Cleary.
Gemma waited impatiently for him to come back. When he did, she clasped her hands together tightly, praying the tears that pricked the back of her eyes wouldn’t start flowing. She couldn’t afford a motel room for two nights. “I don’t have much money with me. Are there any Amish families in this area?”
The man behind the counter rubbed his chin. “Let me think.”
The Amish opened their homes to other members of their faith even if they had never met. She would be welcomed, fed and made to feel like one of the family. The command to care for one another was more than a saying. It was a personal commitment taken seriously by every Amish family, no matter how poor or how well-to-do they were. Many times, she had seen her mother stretch a meal for three into a meal for twice that many when Amish travelers appeared unexpectedly at their door. She waited hopefully for the clerk’s answer.
He shook his head. “Nope. Not that I’m aware of anyway.”
She sniffed as her vision blurred. “Thank—thank you.” She started to turn away, humiliated by her runaway emotions. They were one more unhappy part of her horrible situation.
“You might check with the sheriff,” the agent offered with a hint of sympathy in his tone. “He may know of some.”
She managed a half smile for him. “Where do I find the sheriff?”
“I’ll call him for you. He’s usually home for lunch at this time of day. You are welcome to wait here.” He gestured to a wooden bench sitting in front of a large plate-glass window.
She nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat, and wheeled her suitcase over to the bench. Sitting down with a sigh, she moved her suitcase in front of her, so she could prop up her swollen feet. She leaned her head back against the glass and closed her eyes. After two solid days on a bus, she was ready to lie down. Anywhere.
“Miss? Excuse me, miss.”
Gemma opened her eyes sometime later to see the agent standing in front of her. She blinked away the fog in her brain. “I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”
“You’ve been snoozing for a couple of hours. The sheriff just got back to me. He’s been working an accident out on Wyman Road. He doesn’t know of any Amish in these parts. You’ve been here for quite a whi
le. I thought you might like something to eat. You mentioned you were short on funds, so I brought you a burger from the café down the street.” He held out a white paper bag.
“Danki. Thank you. That’s very kind.” She sat up surprised by the unexpected gift. What did he hope to gain by it? She rubbed her stiff neck and waited to hear the catch. “It smells wunderbar.” She slowly took the bag from him.
“You’re welcome to use our phone to call someone. The store will be closing in an hour, but the diner down the street stays open all night.” He sent her an apologetic glance and walked away.
She bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. She could place a call to the phone shanty her parents shared with their Amish neighbors to let them know she was returning and ask her father to send a car for her, but she would have to leave a message. It was unlikely that anyone would check the machine this late in the day.
Besides, any message she left would be overheard. She knew two women who checked the machine each morning for the sole purpose of keeping up with the local gossip. Unless she gave a reason for her abrupt return, speculation would spread quickly. If she gave the real reason, even Jesse Crump would know before she reached home. She couldn’t bear that, although she didn’t understand why his opinion mattered so much. His stoic face wouldn’t reveal his thoughts, but he was sure to gloat when he learned he’d been right about her. He had called her a spoiled baby looking for trouble and said that she would find it sooner or later. Well, she had found it all right. A thousand miles away from him in Florida.
No, she wouldn’t call. She didn’t want to make her parents the center of conjecture about her return or have them bear the expense of hiring a car to fetch her. What she had to say was better said face-to-face. She was cowardly enough to delay as long as possible. Her appetite gone, she put the burger bag on the bench beside her.
She didn’t know how she was going to find the courage to tell her mother and father that she was six months pregnant and Robert Fisher, the man who’d promised to marry her, was long gone.
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