by Amy Clipston
Eva covered her mouth as a sob threatened to escape.
“I believe God put the question in Junior’s heart when he asked you to take him to New Wilmington to meet your parents. God is giving you the perfect opportunity to start a new life there with your family. Your parents want to be part of Junior’s life and your life. And Ian sounds like the perfect man for you. He loves you and Junior, and Junior needs a dat just as you need a husband. Simeon would want you to be froh, and he would want a gut man to take care of you and his son. Don’t miss this opportunity to have the happiness God wants you to find.”
Now in tears, Eva nodded in agreement as if Marilyn stood in front of her.
“And don’t worry about us here in Ronks,” Marilyn said. “We can come visit you and you can come to us. Maybe you, Ian, and Junior can come see us for Thanksgiving. We’d love to meet Ian too.” She paused for a moment. “Don’t get on that bus today, Eva. Stay there. You can come later for your things or I can have them shipped to you. We’ll figure out the details later. We love you, Eva, and we love Junior too. Call me later. Good-bye.”
When the line went dead, Eva stared at the phone as Marilyn’s words swirled through her mind like a raging tornado.
Tears flowed from her eyes as confusion and regret engulfed her. Covering her face with her hands, Eva began to pray. “God, I don’t know what to do. Help me.”
Then the answer came to her loud and clear in her mind.
Stay in New Wilmington and build a life with Ian.
Eva gasped again as warmth and happiness flooded her veins. Yes, she did belong here, and she could feel the answer to the very marrow of her bones.
Now she needed to ask Ian if he still wanted to build a life with her after the way she’d rejected him—again.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she hurried out of the phone shanty, walked around the house, and stopped short when she reached the back porch. Ian sat on the glider talking to Junior, and her father stood nearby, consoling her mother.
Ian met her gaze and stood, his lips twisted into a deep frown. He joined her at the bottom of the porch steps, and when he opened his mouth to speak, she held up her hand, silencing him.
“Before you say anything, I need to clarify something.” She took a deep breath. “Were you serious when you said you’d build me a haus?” She pointed to the daadihaus. “Because I’m not sure two bedrooms are enough room for us.”
His mouth worked, but no words escaped for a beat. Then he took his own deep breath and asked, “Do you mean you’re staying?”
“Ya, but only if the offer is still open for a bigger haus. I’m not prideful, but we’re going to need more room.”
His handsome face broke into a grin and amusement danced in his eyes. “How big are you thinking? I’m not sure I can afford a mansion for you.”
She grinned as she tilted her head. “I won’t settle for fewer than four bedrooms.”
“Four, huh? I think I can handle that.” He rubbed his chin. “But I’m a little confused. Does this mean you’ll marry me?”
“Ya, I’d be honored to marry you.”
He pulled her into a hug. “Ich liebe dich. You’ve just made me the happiest man in all of Pennsylvania.”
“I love you too.” She touched his cheek. “Danki for not giving up on me.”
“I could never give up on you.” Leaning down, he brushed his lips over her cheek.
She sucked in a breath as heat zinged through her entire body.
“What’s going on?” Dat demanded as he, Mamm, and Junior hurried down the porch steps to join them.
“Junior and I are going to stay,” Eva announced as she threaded her fingers with Ian’s. “I want to be with my family.” She looked up at Ian. “And Ian and I are going to be married.”
“Yay!” Junior clapped his hands as Dat picked him up and balanced him on his hip.
“I’m so thankful.” Dat smiled as he looked at Junior.
“What made you change your mind?” Mamm touched Eva’s arm.
“Marilyn left a message and told me it’s okay for me to be with Ian. I realized she’s right. Simeon would want me to move on and build a new life.”
She looked up at Ian. “And Ian said something I realized is true. Junior and I belong here, because there’s no place like home.”
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1.Eva was devastated when she lost her husband in an accident. Have you ever faced an unexpected death or been severely affected by an accident? What Bible verses would help in a situation like this?
2.When Eva is torn about where she belongs, she turns to prayer for guidance. Think of a time when you found strength through prayer. Share this with the group.
3.Mary feels terrible for alienating Eva. She wants to rebuild her relationship with her daughter, but she’s not sure how to do it. Can you relate to Mary and her experience? How so?
4.Ian is devastated when Eva tells him she can’t have a relationship with him. Think of a time when you felt lost and alone. Where did you find your strength? What Bible verses would help?
5.Which character do you identify with the most? Which character seemed to carry the most emotional stake in the story? Was it Eva, Ian, Junior, or someone else?
6.At the end of the story, Marilyn leaves a message that convinces Eva she can move on and start a new life back home in New Wilmington. Do you agree with Marilyn’s assessment of the situation? Why or why not?
7.Eva was certain she was supposed to remain a widow and not move on with her life. What do you think caused her to change her point of view throughout the story?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, I’m grateful for my loving family, including my mother, Lola Goebelbecker; my husband, Joe; and my sons, Zac and Matt.
Special thanks to my mother and my dear friend Becky Biddy, who graciously proofread the draft and corrected my hilarious typos.
I’m also grateful for my special Amish friend who patiently answers my endless stream of questions. You’re a blessing in my life.
Thank you to my wonderful church family at Morning Star Lutheran in Matthews, North Carolina, for your encouragement, prayers, love, and friendship. You all mean so much to my family and me.
Thank you to Zac Weikal and the fabulous members of my Bakery Bunch! I’m so grateful for your friendship and your excitement about my books. You all are awesome!
To my agent, Natasha Kern—I can’t thank you enough for your guidance, advice, and friendship. You are a tremendous blessing in my life.
Thank you to my amazing editor, Jocelyn Bailey, for your friendship and guidance. I’m grateful to each and every person at HarperCollins Christian Publishing who helped make this book a reality.
I’m grateful to editor Jean Bloom, who helped me polish and refine the story. Jean, you are a master at connecting the dots and filling in the gaps. I’m so happy we can continue to work together!
Thank you most of all to God—for giving me the inspiration and the words to glorify you. I’m grateful and humbled you’ve chosen this path for me.
WHEN LOVE RETURNS
BETH WISEMAN
To all of the people impacted by Hurricane Harvey
CHAPTER 1
Sarah paid the cabdriver and helped Miriam out of the car. They each slung a backpack over their shoulders, Miriam’s much smaller than Sarah’s. Everything they owned was in those bags.
“Where’s the house?” Miriam gazed up at her mother with questioning blue eyes, her dark hair pulled up in a ponytail that Sarah had braided on the ride from the airport to Lancaster County.
Sarah squatted in front of her five-year-old daughter, kissed her on the cheek, and pointed down the dirt road that led to Sarah’s parents’ house. “It’s about half a mile down that road.”
“Why didn’t the man in the yellow car take us all the way there?” Miriam readjusted the backpack on her tiny body.
“Are you sure that’s not too heavy? I can carry it, if it is.” Sarah eyed the small brown bag over her d
aughter’s shoulders with Red Cross etched into the mesh-like material.
Miriam shook her head and smiled.
Sarah stood and blew a strand of hair away from her face, wishing she had another rubber band to pull it back. She only found one in her purse among the few things she managed to grab before the water from Hurricane Harvey flooded their apartment.
“Spring is a nice time of year for a walk.” And Sarah needed the time to calm her racing heart. She eyed the fields on both sides of them, lush and green, the way she remembered spring in this rural area that felt so foreign now. “When I was a little girl, there were all kinds of animals that ran around this area. You might see a jackrabbit or a wild turkey, ducks, or maybe even a bobcat.”
Miriam gasped. “Will they hurt us?”
Sarah put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and coaxed her to start walking. “No, they won’t. Don’t you know by now, silly girl, that I’m never going to let anything hurt you.”
“I know, Mommy. You saved us from the storm.”
Sarah took a few steps, memories flooding her mind, as she took in the silo in the distance, orange hues in the background as the sun began its final descent. It was a slightly upward climb for several yards, but when they reached the top of the slope, Sarah’s family homestead was visible. She swallowed the emotion that had built over the last few days. She hadn’t seen her parents in six years. Or Abram.
“The grace of God saved us from the storm,” she said softly as a shiver ran the length of her spine. Sarah had tried to evacuate with Miriam before the hurricane slammed into the Gulf Coast, but the water rose too fast, and her small downstairs apartment in Houston had a foot of water inside before she could pack more than a few necessities and some clothes for her and Miriam. No one in the area was prepared for the epic floodwater.
She’d carried Miriam on her shoulders through waist-deep water until a boat came for them. After a week in a shelter, she finally called Big Jake at the hardware store in Bird-in-Hand and asked if he could get word to her parents to call her, and she left the number for the shelter. Sarah was between paychecks, and she didn’t have much in her savings account. The building where she worked had six feet of water inside, and she had no idea when she’d be able to go back. The devastation frightened Miriam.
Sarah’s mother had wired her money, even though she hadn’t seen or talked to her parents since she ran away from home when she was seventeen and two months pregnant. She’d written them three times over the years, and all the letters returned unopened. Sarah had never been baptized in the Old Order Amish community where she’d grown up. According to the Ordnung, she shouldn’t have been shunned. But her parents had practiced a shunning of their own. Sarah wondered if they would have sent money if it hadn’t been for Miriam, the granddaughter they didn’t know they had until the recent phone call.
Sarah would have eventually reached out to her parents again, if only for Miriam’s sake. Her daughter deserved to know her heritage. And even amid the complications, Miriam had a right to know her grandparents. But Sarah hadn’t had much time to prepare emotionally for this trip. She and her daughter were homeless and broke. She would rather return home without her tail between her legs, which was surely going to give her mother an advantage. She could already hear the scolding that was sure to come—how the Englisch world was no place for Sarah and how she’d shamed and disappointed her family and community.
Sarah had friends they could have stayed with, but something deep within beckoned her home to face the people she left behind and those she’d wronged—especially Abram—no matter how much she feared the outcome.
“Is that your mommy and daddy’s house?” Miriam pointed at the white two-story home with green shutters in the distance.
“Yep. That’s where I grew up.” Sarah slowed her pace, tempted to swoop Miriam into her arms and run back.
“What should I call my grandparents?” Miriam scratched her chin as she slowed down too.
Sarah had fielded questions about this subject, and about Miriam’s absent father, for the last couple of years. When Miriam’s friends in daycare began to talk about their families, Sarah told Miriam that her grandparents lived far away, which was true, and she avoided the father part—a bullet she wouldn’t be able to dodge forever.
“What do you want to call them?” Sarah’s heart pounded as she wondered how her parents would react to a five-year-old grandchild who had grown up in the city, worlds away from the quiet life here.
Miriam grew up watching cartoons on television, eating food from a microwave, and playing on Sarah’s cell phone and iPad, all luxuries the Amish lived without. Grabbing rushed meals from a drive-through was often the norm. Sarah, on the other hand, was raised with three sit-down meals at the table every single day.
She wondered who would be more culture shocked, Miriam or her mother. Even though Sarah had warned Miriam how different things would be at her grandparents’ house, her young daughter didn’t have much of a filter, and there was no telling what might come out of her mouth. Sarah could imagine her mother’s face the first time Miriam asked to heat something in the microwave, or when Miriam said something totally inappropriate. It was bound to happen. And Sarah remembered quite well the expectations her mother had for her only daughter. Perfection. Sarah had never demanded that of Miriam.
Miriam shrugged. “Grandma and Grandpa, I guess.”
Sarah took in a long, deep breath. “Mammi and Daadi are the Pennsylvania Deutsch names for Grandma and Grandpa. Do you remember I told you that your grandparents speak two languages?”
They walked slowly and quietly for a few moments. Sarah wished she’d had more time to educate her daughter about the Amish ways, but it had been a crash course over the last few days.
“Or you can just call them Barbara and John.” Sarah slowed even more, but Miriam took her hand and pulled her forward.
“You said we don’t call grown-ups by their first names.”
Sarah took another deep breath and blew it out slowly. “That’s right. But with Amish people, it’s normal for children to call grown-ups by their first name. Things are just different here.” Huge understatement. She stopped abruptly, causing Miriam to stop too.
“Try to use good manners. Always say ‘yes, ma’am’ and ‘yes, sir.’ Remember to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ things like that.” She squeezed her eyes closed and cringed before she opened them and cupped Miriam’s chin, staring into her eyes. “Do you remember what you called Billy Dalton when you got sent to time-out at your school?”
Miriam nodded, then cast her eyes downward. “Yeah. Poo-poo head.”
Sarah pressed her lips together and gave Miriam her sternest look. “Right. We never, ever say that. Okay?”
Miriam nodded again.
Sarah trudged forward, squeezing her daughter’s hand. This had disaster written all over it. But she wasn’t going to find peace if she didn’t face her past.
Barbara Zook brought a hand to her chest as she stared out the kitchen window. “John, they’re here,” she said loud enough for her husband to hear her in the living room.
He joined her at the window. “Why are they walking?” He chuckled. “Did they walk here from Houston?”
Barbara cut her eyes at him. “How can you joke at a time like this? They obviously asked to be dropped off at the end of the road.” She refocused on her daughter, whose dark hair was still past her shoulders, but it had obviously been cut over the years, something not allowed according to the Ordnung. But then, her daughter clearly had not followed the teachings of their people.
“Practice smiling, Barbara. You will scare the child if you hold on to that expression on your face.” John leaned closer to the window, and Barbara saw him smile out of the corner of her eye. “Look at that. Sarah’s a mamm. And look at that beautiful maedel at her side.”
Barbara’s knees were weak, and despite the cool March temperatures, sweat beaded on her forehead and her hands were clammy as she
stuffed them in the pockets of her black apron. The Lord had blessed her with only one child, Sarah. And Barbara’s daughter had robbed her of five years of being a grandparent. Worse, she hadn’t even known she had a grandchild until a week ago. As she eyed her daughter, a grown woman now, and as she took in the beauty of the little girl who held her mother’s hand, Barbara wanted to embrace the situation with all the love she’d stashed away in her heart. But a wall of bitterness and anger had grown over the years, and it wasn’t going to crumble overnight. If ever.
John walked alongside her as they crossed through the living room to the front door. Then he reached for her hand and squeezed. She couldn’t remember the last time her husband had held her hand. There had been an unspoken distance between them since Sarah left. John had never said so, but Barbara suspected he blamed her.
“Everything is going to be all right, Barbara.” John stopped in front of the closed front door and gazed at her for a few long seconds. “But only if you allow it to be okay. Give this a chance.”
Barbara bit her trembling lip, not willing to give Sarah the satisfaction of tears. Did she think her mother would welcome her home with open arms, that all would be instantly forgiven? Sarah was only here because she had nowhere else to go.
John opened the wooden door and on the other side of the screen stood Sarah and her child. Barbara’s heart hammered against her chest with a built-up vengeance that caused her to feel like she might pass out.
Her husband eased open the screen door, and they stepped aside so Sarah and her daughter could come inside. During their brief phone call, Sarah had referred to the child as Miriam. Barbara put a hand to her chest and tried to will her heart into submission, to stop it from beating so frantically. Instead of looking at Sarah, she gazed down at the child. A beautiful girl with big blue eyes, wavy dark hair, and dimples.
Barbara lifted her eyes to her daughter and forced a smile. “Welcome home.” She wasn’t sure if the comment sounded as sarcastic as it felt when the words slipped from her mouth, but suddenly two tiny arms wrapped around her legs and squeezed.