“Bethany, you don’t have to worry about my intentions. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and as soon as you’re ready to make that happen, we’ll do it. But this is not the day, and—”
“No no, you’re right, Cab, that’s not what I’m saying, I’m not asking you to marry me or asking you to propose. But you do have to know now that, well, all of this means you ... joining the Order with me.”
“You mean ... become Amish, officially?”
“Yes, Cab, be baptized into the Order, like any young man after Rumspringa. It’s terribly important to me, Cab. And nothing we’ve been through, and no feelings I may have for you, however strong they are, can stand in the way of my commitment to the Order. You understand? It’s more than my lifestyle, it’s my life, it’s part of who and what I am; a wonderful part, a part I want to share with you.”
Cab breaks a smile. “Yes, Bethany, absolutely! I’ve been living this way for years, it’s perfectly natural for me. I’ll just be glad to be surrounded by people who think the way I do, who feel the way I do, for once in my life.”
My smile matches his. I turn to Deputy Karras, who is also smiling from behind his desk. “I may have to, um, take the credit for that bust in Westington,” the deputy says, “if you’re certain you don’t want to be—”
“We’re more than certain,” I say, recalling the words of Philippians 2:2-3. “Complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.”
Cab adds the next verse: “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”
Deputy Karras looks at both of us and nods in admiration, then shrugging in humility. “You know, I’ll probably get a huge promotion for this. I don’t want to do it under false pretenses.”
“You’re protecting the innocent,” Cab says, “and that’s your real function, right?”
I quote from Acts 1: 7-8, reminding the deputy, “He said to them, ‘It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.’”
Cab says, “When justice is done, it is a joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers.”
I say, “Proverbs, 21:15.”
“It’s beautiful,” Deputy Karras says.
I say, “And weren’t you the one to lead that raid? Weren’t you as brave as any other officer, risking your life as much as any of the others? Deputy Karras, when I was here before you were the only authority figure who paid me any mind at all, and the only Englischer I’d ever met who really cared about our community. What happened at Westington was just the result of your long crusade for good against evil here in Smicksberg. You should be proud.”
Deputy Karras chuckles. “Don’t they say that pride comes before a fall?”
Cab adds, “Actually, pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”
And I close with, “Proverbs 16: 18.”
The End
Thank You for Reading!
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Keep reading for a preview of my Amish Fairy Tales series in the next chapter!
All the best,
Rachel
AMISH CINDERELLA #1
CHAPTER ONE
The mop’s soaked strands pushed the bubbling water across the floorboards in front of the potbellied stove. As always, I was careful not to let too much water seep into the wood.
I shuddered to recall what had happened the last time, when Uncle Barnabas nearly cracked the mop handle over the back of my head. I had crouched down low, huddled in the corner of the room, hands over my head, quivering and crying and waiting for the blow to come—body tense, nerves tight.
But the Lord had stayed his hand, sparing me a life-threatening wallop. Still, I knew the wrath that was so easily provoked could come crashing down again, at any moment. I lived in fear of that horrible hand falling down on me again, as if out of nowhere, at my slightest misstep.
I wrung out the mop by hand, filthy water pouring over my clenching fists as I tried to squeeze it dry before dipping it back into that grey bilge. It made the job twice as difficult, and made it take twice as long, but Uncle Barnabas wouldn’t give me a second bucket for clean water, no matter how much I asked. And that wasn’t often, since his answer was always the same, no matter the question.
No!
I’d heard it for years, from him and from my cousins, Hildegarde and Providence. It was as if they liked to say it. No, not as if; they did like to say it; to me, at least.
They didn’t like me, and they didn’t want me in their home. And I knew why. It was no mystery to be sorted and resolved, no great inner turmoil that had to be rooted out and brought to light. But there wasn’t a thing I could do about it either.
“You call this clean?” Hildegarde said, as she and Providence stepped into the kitchen. “Daed’ll have at you with a whippin’ stick if he sees this mess.”
“I just started,” I said. “It’ll be done soon enough.”
“Of course it will,” Hildegarde said. “You’re such a good worker, Ella, it’s as if you were born for this very work. How wonderful God was to bless you with these remarkable gifts.”
Hildegarde, taller and more angular, looked down at her sister to share a chuckle. Shorter and quite a bit chubbier, Providence giggled along, nodding in amused agreement.
She said to me, “Poor Hildy’s work as an apprentice midwife merely helps bring new lives safely into the world. Why, what value has that to anyone?”
Hildegarde nodded, adding, “And Providence’s quilts merely bring warmth and coziness to Englischers and Amish alike, across the country. It’s a pitiable thing, really.”
Surely the only warmth or coziness either of you has ever created, I thought to myself. But I said nothing, of course, not wishing to offend them. Not only would that demean me, but it could only excite their later fury.
And the angrier they were, the harder I wound up working.
Hildegarde added: “But you—dear, sweet Ella—you had been blessed with the greatest gifts of all: to bring a sheen to our floors, and our plates, and wash basin ... ”
They broke out in a spasm of devilish laughter, leaning against one another to keep from falling over in sheer delight.
Hildegarde quotes Revelation 3:17: “Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.”
And of course, I knew they were wrong. I had been blessed with many gifts, only one of which was the ability to withstand such cruelty. I had been blessed with faith, which kept me aloft of their pettiness. I had been blessed with patience, and inner calm.
And I could whittle! My collection of tiny woodland creatures was my only possession—besides my Bible and my clothing—and they kept me company in lonely and trying times such as these. Even my rare moments of leisure, when I could sit back and whittle a palm-sized bear or deer or wolf, were made more special when I could indulge my own artistic expression.
But, as with so
much else in my life, I was denied this pleasure as much as possible. They didn’t want me to whittle, because it was part of who I was; a special part.
They didn’t want me to be special. They didn’t want me to be who I was.
“You know,” Providence said, “my Hugh is taking me to the hayride this Sunday, after services. I hope you’ll have my laundry all done by then?”
“Oh, I’m sure she will,” Hildegarde answered her, as if I wasn’t even in the room, much less kneeling before them wringing the mop. “You know what a good little worker she is. Why, in all the ten years she’s been here, she’s never left her chores undone.”
And there were always more chores to do...
Thank You for Reading!
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it!
If so, you can keep reading Amish Cinderella #1 for FREE by CLICKING HERE!
Or
If you missed Book 1 of the False Worship Series, start it for FREE HERE.
or, if you missed the rest of the False Worship Series you can:
***SAVE BIG and GET ALL 4 BOOKS FOR ONE DISCOUNT PRICE (25% OFF)***
If you get a chance to leave me a review, I’d really appreciate it (and if you find something in the book that – YIKES – makes you think it deserves less than 5-stars, drop me a line at [email protected], and I’ll fix it if I can)
All the best,
Rachel
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel was born and raised in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Being a neighbor of the Mennonite community, she started writing Amish romance fiction as a way of looking at the Amish community. She wanted to present a fair and honest representation of a love that is both romantic and sweet. She hopes her readers enjoy her efforts.
If you enjoy Rachel’s books, feel free to sign up for her mailing list to be updated about new releases, discount books, and FREE books from her and other great authors from Global Grafx Press.
Also by Rachel Stoltzfus
A Home for Jacob
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A Lancaster Amish Prayer for Jacob
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A Lancaster Amish Vacation for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Love Story for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Memory for Jacob
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A Lancaster Amish Treasure for Jacob
A Lancaster Amish Home for Jacob 9-Book Boxed Set
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A Lancaster County Amish Quarrel Series
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An Amish Country Quarrel 4-Book Boxed Set
An Amish Country Quarrel 4-Book Boxed Set Bundle
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A Lancaster Home for Jacob 5-Book Boxed Set Bundle
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Amish Country Tours 3-Book Boxed Set
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Amish Cinderella Book 1
Amish Cinderella Book 2
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Amish Home: False Worship - Book 1
Amish Home: False Worship - Book 2
Amish Home: False Worship - Book 3
Amish Home: False Worship - Book 4
Amish Home: False Worship Complete 4-Book Boxed Set Bundle
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Amish Seeds of Change 3-Book Boxed Set
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Amish Home Page 10