She got down and leaned against Cessna 1. It was sitting tandem to the new one. “Avery called. Smith got his leave. He’ll be home in a few weeks and they’re gonna have the wedding right away. They don’t want to miss their chance again.”
Ty wiped his hands on the rag. “It’s about time. I bet Emmitt’s happy. I thought he’d pout for a month when it got postponed.”
“Evie too. She can’t wait to be flower girl.”
Ty moved the ladder back to the hangar. The Piper was tucked away today, resting. Camille gave it an affectionate pat. Ty came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed that little spot just behind her ear that made her toes wiggle.
She turned and faced him. “You know, the first time we met, I thought you were pompous. Cute, but pompous.”
He grinned. “And I thought you were pretty perfect. Then you started yelling at me and I knew it for sure.” He went in for a kiss, and Camille tilted her head back to meet him. Even after all these months, every kiss felt just as special as the first.
Evie’s voice called into the hangar. “Mom? Dad? Are you kissing again?” They turned to her, and Camille readied herself for the grossed-out face she knew was coming, but Evie was grinning. “Your two o’clock is here.”
“Thanks, sweetie. By the way, have you seen your aunt Nikki?”
“Or your uncle Dillon?”
A mischievous grin spread across Evie’s face. “They said if you asked to tell you they were fishing.”
Fishing? Nikki should’ve known better. The only way she’d go near something scaly was if fishing was code for shopping at the mall. “And what are they really doing?”
There was Evie’s icky face. “I think they’re having a picnic at her ranch. Uncle Dillon wrote her a poem. I heard him practicing it. He rhymed sweet dreams with golden beams.” She giggled uncontrollably. Camille thought it was actually kinda cute.
Evie’s icky face disappeared. “Is it okay if I go riding with Emmitt and Daisy? They said they’d show me that tree where the larks are nesting.”
Ty looked at Camille. She shrugged. “Sure, honey,” he said. “Have fun.”
Outside the hangar, a group of six were hanging out, looking nervous. Ty and Camille introduced themselves. There were three men and three women, all in their thirties. It was a couples thing. Fun. Maybe she and Ty should start doing more couples things.
They already had Dillon and Nikki, that was a good start. Maybe they could find someone for Emmitt. Right now though, she wanted to make this day special for these couples in front of her. And that gave her an idea.
“We’re a little bit nervous,” said one woman with jet-black hair pulled into a ponytail. She was looking at her husband, who looked even more nervous than she did. His left nostril was flaring out in a strange way that didn’t match the right.
“That’s normal.” Camille kept her voice soft and level just like Ty had taught her. It made a huge difference settling people’s nerves.
“I suppose you two do this kind of thing all the time, don’t you?” asked one man with thin lips and big muscles. He was trying to sound tough, but his eyes kept darting around, looking at the planes as if they might crash while sitting there on the ground.
She and Ty took them through some basics, then Camille laid her big idea on everyone. “Let’s race. Twice around Sweet Dreams and back. Losers buy pie. They’ve got the best banana cream pie in the world right down the road from here.”
A woman with bright blue eyes looked at Camille like she was speaking gibberish. “Race?”
“Yeah, girls against boys. It’ll be fun.”
“What’s Sweet Dreams?” asked the big muscle guy.
“My sister’s ranch.” She pointed toward it and they all turned their heads. Everyone except Ty.
He gave her one of his looks. You are in so much trouble. “Camille...no.”
“Scared?” She arched one eyebrow.
“Me? Never.”
The woman with the dark ponytail perked up. “I’m game.”
Not to be outdone, her husband chimed in with, “Me too.” The me toos were seconded, and Camille shot Ty her smarty-pants smile. It was a new look she was working on.
He sighed. She leaned in close to him. “Tell you what. If you win, I’ll let you replace Buffy.”
His eyes widened. “You’re serious?” She nodded, and he clapped his hands together. “All right. Guys, we’ve got a race to win.”
The women all looked at her, suddenly nervous. “You’re good, right? You can beat him?”
“Camille’s a great pilot,” Ty said.
“And how good are you?” asked one of the guys.
Camille smiled proudly at him. “Ty was a Blue Angel.”
The three men laughed and started teasing their wives.
“I’ll take my pie now.”
“Hold the pie, eat our dust.”
They separated guys from gals and got everyone buckled in. Then she and Ty met in the middle, toe to toe. He grinned at her. “May the better pilot win.”
She grinned back. “Will do.” He arched his eyebrow. It wasn’t even close to what she could do. She gave him the double arch, then went in for a kiss. His lips warmed her up and she forgot all about their contest for a second. “I love you.”
He pulled back. “I love you too. By the way, I told Evie she could get a pet tarantula for Christmas.”
“What? Wait, are you—”
Ty darted for his plane. He’d better be joking. She wasn’t about to let him throw her off like that though. She pushed pet tarantulas aside for now and ran for her plane. Ty made it first. The engine started up, and a minute later the men were gone.
The girls all groaned. “We already lost.”
Camille checked her instruments and started down the runway. “We haven’t lost anything yet. Hang on. This is a little trick I learned from a Blue Angel.”
She brought the plane up and pushed the Cessna as fast as she could. They shot up high and spiraled forward, zipping ahead of Ty by a nose. She waved to him as she passed.
“Wow, you’re really good,” said the woman with the ponytail. The women were already crying victory, but Camille knew better. Never underestimate a Blue Angel.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Courting His Amish Wife by Emma Miller.
Dear Reader,
I’m humbled and thrilled that you’re joining me for my debut novel. When I was young, I used to love (or thought I did) heart-pounding adventures like riding roller coasters or walking a tightrope. My dream was to be a trapeze artist. Until one day I realized I was scared of heights.
We’re all scared of something. Love, death, life...giant hairy spiders. The hero and heroine in my story are facing their own fears. And until they meet each other, they think they need to face them alone. As readers we all know better. It just takes Camille and Ty a little while to catch on.
Every summer, Chicago puts on an amazing air show over Lake Michigan featuring brave and skilled pilots from across the country, and sometimes the world. The Blue Angels often play a prominent role, along with others too numerous to list here. This is where the idea for my book sprang from, and I’m so glad it did.
I’m still learning to face my own fears. Luckily I’ve got an amazing husband and a fluff-ball of a cat to encourage me. Soon I plan to tackle my first flying lesson. Maybe not the wisest idea for someone scared of heights, but the adventurer in me still longs to walk those tightropes. So I’m facing my fears head-on. And whether it’s your husband, cat or God helping you along, I hope you find a way to face yours too.
Warmest Wishes,
Christine Raymond
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Courting His Amish Wife
by Emma Miller
Prologue
Through the trees, Eve spotted her father’s windmill and ran faster, ignoring the branches and underbrush that tore at her hair and scratched her arms and face. She took in great gulps of air, sobbing with relief as she sprinted the final distance. She had prayed to God over and over throughout the night. She had begged Him to see her home safely. Now the sun was breaking over the horizon, and she had made it the more than ten miles home in the dark.
Bursting from the edge of the woods, she hitched up her dirty and torn dress, the hem wet from the dew, and climbed over the fence. In her father’s pasture, she hurried past the horses and sheep, her gaze fixed on the white farmhouse ahead. If she could just make it to the house, her father would be there. She would be safe at last, and he would know what to do.
Trying to calm her pounding heart, Eve inhaled deeply. At last, her breath was coming more evenly. She wiped at her eyes with the torn sleeve of her favorite dress. She was safe. She was home. Her father would protect her.
At the gate into the barnyard, she let herself through and slowed to a walk as she neared the back porch. Her father’s beagle trotted toward her, barking in greeting. Through the windows, she could see into the kitchen where a light glowed from an oil lamp that hung over the table. Her father and sisters and brothers would be there waiting for her. As she climbed the steps to the porch, her wet sneakers squeaked. Hours ago, she had crossed a low spot in the woods and soaked her canvas shoes.
She had almost reached the door when it swung open.
“Dat,” she cried, throwing herself at him, bursting into tears. “Oh, Dat.”
“Dochter.” Her father grasped her by the shoulders, but instead of embracing her, he pushed her back. “Where have you been?” he demanded in Pennsylvania Deitsch. He looked her up and down, not in relief that she was safely home, but in anger. “Where is your prayer kapp?”
Eve raised her hand to her hair to find it uncovered. “Oh,” she cried. “I must have... I must have lost it in the woods somewhere.” She brushed back her brown hair that had come loose from the neat bun at the nape of her neck to fall in hanks around her face. She pulled a twig from her hair. “Dat. Something terrible happened. I—”
“Where have you been all night?” he boomed, becoming angrier with her by the second. “Who have you been with?” he shouted. “To sneak out of my house after I forbade you to go? I should beat you!”
When she looked up at him, Eve realized she had made a terrible mistake. It had taken her hours to find her way home. She had walked and run all night, choosing the long way home because she had been afraid to follow any main roads for fear Jemuel would find her. She had climbed fences, been scratched by briars and been chased by a feral dog. At one point, she had been lost and worried she had walked too far, or in the wrong direction. But she hadn’t given up because she knew that if she could make it home safely, everything would be all right.
But looking at her father’s stern face, at his long, thick gray beard and his angry eyes that stared at her from behind his wire-frame glasses, she realized she was wrong. She wasn’t safe. And perhaps she would never be so again because she knew what her father was going to say before the words came out of his mouth.
He pointed an accusing finger. “You will marry that boy!” Amon Summy shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.
Eve lowered her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as she prayed fervently to God again to help her.
Chapter One
Levi snapped off a leaf of fresh mint from Alma Stolzfus’s pot of herbs near her back door and popped it into his mouth. He was standing with a group of young women, all of marrying age, all looking for husbands. A fox in the henhouse—that’s what his grandmother would have called him. Because he was single, too.
The difference was, he wasn’t here to gobble up any of these girls. He wasn’t even looking for a girl to offer a ride home this evening after the singing. He intended to ask Mari, Alma Stolzfus’s niece, to let him take her home, though right now, he wasn’t even sure she would say yes. They were a bit on-again, off-again. One week she was bold enough to ask him to drive her home from one of the Saturday night singings, and the next she barely spoke to him.
Levi had the idea that she was more interested in JJ Yoder than him. The problem was that JJ was the quiet, reflective type. He was too shy to ask a girl to ride home with him, which was the typical way young men and women got to spend time alone together in pursuit of the right spouse. JJ certainly wasn’t asking any girl out for an ice-cream cone or inviting her to his family’s home on a visiting Sunday. It was Levi’s theory that Mari was going out with him occasionally only to make JJ jealous enough to ask her out himself, which was okay with Levi. He liked Mari, but more as a friend. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t have accepted a kiss if she offered, but that was about as unlikely as her aunt Alma giving him one.
“What about you, Levi?” Trudy Yoder, JJ’s sister, cut her eyes at him. She was one of the prettiest girls standing there, and she knew it. “You going to the barn raising at Mary Aaron’s grandfather’s tomorrow?”
He suspected Trudy was openly flirting with him, the way she was swinging her hips ever so slightly, smiling and batting her feathery eyelashes.
His hunch was confirmed when her sister harrumphed and slipped her arm through Trudy’s. “Come, Schweschder. We’d best see if Alma needs any help getting the lemonade and snacks on the table.”
Trudy resisted her sister’s tug on her arm. “So are you going?” she asked Levi.
“Ya, I’m going to the barn raising,” he answered lazily. It had been a warm day, even for the end of May, and it was supposed to be sunny, warm and clear the following day, perfect conditions for a barn raising. The work crews would show up at dawn and work until sunset. It would be a long day, but Levi enjoyed barn raisings. He liked knowing he had helped a family, and the food served, often three full meals, was always exceptional.
“You are?” Trudy was grinning again. “And is there a kind of cookie you especially like, Levi? My mam and I are baking twelve dozen for the midday meal.” The apples of her cheeks were as rosy as the dress she was wearing. Like the other girls, she had kicked off her shoes for the volleyball game they’d just played, boys against girls, and hadn’t put them back on. She was cute and sweet, and he wondered if Mari didn’t want to ride home with him if he ought to ask Trudy.
“We’re making cookies, too. Peanut butter with peanut butter chips,” Mary With-A-Y said. That was what they called her because she was also Mary Stolzfus, a cousin of Mari’s, only she spelled her name differently. “I made some a few weeks back and took them to the Fishers’ for visiting Sunday. I bet Levi ate a hundred of my cookies.”
The Fishers, relations to the Fishers back home, were the folks Levi lived with. Though his home was in Hickory Grove in central Delaware, he was a buggy maker’s apprentice to Jeb Fisher there in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Because Jeb and his wife had never been blessed with children, they opened their home to young men interested in learning to build buggies. Right now, Levi was sharing a room with Jehu Yutzy from Ohio.
“He ate a hundred of your cookies!” One of the other girls, whose name he didn’t remember, laughed. “I bet Levi would eat two hundred of my chocolate-chocolate chip cookies. You like chocolate-chocolate chip, don’t you, Levi?” She gazed up at him with big, green eyes.
Levi chewed thoughtfully on the mint leaf in his mouth, enjoying the sweet, cool flavor. “The truth is, I love all cookies,” he said diplomatically. And that was a fact. He did love to eat. “You’re all such good cooks around here, how could a man choose?”
The girls giggled in response and began
to call out the kind of cookies they could make for Levi.
“Levi.” Someone whispered in his ear from behind, and he turned, surprised because he hadn’t seen her approach. It was Mari.
He smiled at her. “There you are. I was wondering where you had—”
“Sht,” she shushed, speaking so softly that only he could hear her. “I need your help. It’s important.”
He looked into her eyes and immediately saw that something was wrong. Very wrong. He glanced at the circle of young women who looked like Englisher-dyed Easter eggs in their pastel-colored dresses of blue and pink and green. They hadn’t seemed to notice Mari and were talking among themselves about the ingredients in their recipes.
He returned his gaze to Mari. “You need me now?”
“Right now.”
By the tone of her voice, he guessed he wouldn’t be getting a kiss. He studied her worried face, trying to figure out what was going on.
“So, are you coming or not?” Mari asked. She looked him up and down and then walked away.
Levi pushed his straw hat down farther on his head, nodded to the girls and followed Mari.
Eve sat on a bale of straw in the Stolzfuses’ barn, her knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. She stared at the toes of her water-stained, black canvas sneakers. “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?” she whispered. The phrase had become a chant over the last week. A prayer.
Where am I going to go? she wondered. Where will I live? How will I make money to eat?
A speckled black-and-white Dominique chicken scratched in the wood shavings at Eve’s feet and clucked contently. She watched the chicken, thinking how curious it was that life around her went on without acknowledging that her life, as she knew it, was over. Of course, no one but her father and her cousin Mari knew what had happened.
And Jemuel. He knew.
Finding Her Courage Page 19