A Mother to Love

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  * * *

  Rick watched as everyone found a seat. The girls had chosen to sit on the porch edge, swinging their legs as they watched. Rick wandered in front of them and caught their attention. “Today we’re celebrating Carly’s sixth birthday, which means, in her words, she will go to real school in the fall. First grade.”

  Carly clapped her hands. “Kimmy and me are the same age today.” She grinned at Kimmy.

  Rick chuckled at Carly’s preoccupation with her age.

  He held up his hand. “But before we bring out the birthday cake, we have another event to add to our celebration.” He beckoned to Angie, and she ambled to his side, her body tension evident as she stood near, anticipating, he assumed, the excitement he felt.

  Curiosity had settled on everyone except Carly, who bounced nearby as if ready to jump into action.

  “I imagine you’re asking yourself what could be more important today than Carly’s birthday.” He grinned and gazed at Angie a second. “Nothing is the answer. Today is Carly’s day, but she also wanted us to share another special announcement with you.”

  Carly shifted closer, her body as taut as an arrow stretched and ready for release. “Hurry up. I can’t wait.”

  The crowd laughed, and he gave them a wink.

  Angie appeared to hold her breath as he knelt on the grass beside her. Excitement sounded from those observing as he looked up at Angie, his heart in his throat.

  “Angela Bursten, I have loved you forever though we know it’s only been months. We began our relationship as coworkers and then good friends, and that’s where love begins. Today I’m asking you to be my wife and Carly’s second mother.” He drew the ring from his pocket and held it suspended.

  Angie’s face glowed, and he spotted tears rimming her lashes. “You know my answer, Rick. You’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been. I love you with all my heart and Carly as if she were my own.” The tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks.

  She beckoned to Carly, who darted toward them with a prizewinning smile.

  He rose and slipped the ring on Angie’s finger.

  Everyone hurried forward with hugs and kisses. Words of congratulations and best wishes flew through the air, and Carly stood close to them, her eyes glued to the beautiful diamond solitaire that would be joined on her wedding day with a band of smaller diamonds.

  Carly tugged his pant leg. “Kiss Angie, Daddy.” She bounced beside them, her gaze swinging from him to Angie.

  While everyone chuckled and moved back to their chairs, he drew Angie into his arms and kissed her, their joy knotting together and flying heavenward. Angie had drawn closer to the Lord again on her own. He knew pressure wouldn’t work. Loving the Lord had to come from her heart. The change added to his joy.

  His happiness spilled over as Angie drew Carly into her arms and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Carly, with all my heart.”

  Carly’s eyes spoke her emotion. “I love you, too.”

  Before the guests had quieted at their seats, the two mothers had disappeared without notice and returned with the birthday cake. They set it on a card table, and Carly skipped to their side while Angie’s mom lit the candles and others broke into the “Happy Birthday” song.

  “Make a wish, Carly.” El’s cheery voice matched his sparkling eyes.

  Carly drew in a big breath and blew out the candles while everyone applauded.

  Connie waved her hand. “Don’t tell us what you wished for, Carly, or it won’t come true.”

  Some adults shook their heads, disagreeing with Connie’s childish response.

  “But I want to tell.” Carly’s voice cut through the adults’ murmurs.

  His heart in his throat, Rick strode to her side and gave her a hug. “You can tell if you want.”

  Carly’s face glowed. “I wished Daddy, Angie and I could be like a fairy-tale story and live happy every after.”

  Angie hiccuped a sob she hadn’t managed to control, and his own emotion blurred his eyes as she joined them beside the cake. He clasped Angie’s hand. “We couldn’t have asked for a better wish, Carly.”

  Applause sounded, and Rick’s world expanded, as he envisioned life with the woman he loved and the unexpected joy of having Angie as Carly’s new stepmother.

  The day couldn’t have been more perfect. Glenda had called earlier and told Carly that she would take vacation time when Carly visited Germany so they could spend time together without interruption. Something wonderful had happened with Glenda. She’d changed and maybe it was finding love that made her life whole again.

  Whatever it was, he lifted his eyes to heaven, thankful for the amazing gift he’d been given. He slipped his arm around Angie and drew Carly to his side, his heart full. He’d had no idea the day he drove to Lilac Circle to help a friend move that his life would change forever. He glanced at the homes on each side of Angie’s and wondered what life held in store for others who lived on Lilac Circle.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE AMISH WIDOW’S SECRET by Cheryl Williford.

  Angie’s Crock-Pot Fiesta Chicken

  Serves 6

  Did Angie’s Crock-Pot Fiesta Chicken sound good? If so, she wants to share the recipe with you. It’s easy to make since you place the ingredients in the pot, set the temperature and do whatever you enjoy until it’s a few minutes before mealtime. The dish is also low fat, so it’s healthy.

  Ingredients:

  6 boneless skinless chicken breasts, about 4 ounces each

  1 cup diced onions

  1 (1.5 oz.) packet taco seasoning mix

  1 cup salsa (mild, medium or hot, your family’s preference)

  1 tbsp. cornstarch

  ¼ cup fat-free or low-fat sour cream

  Directions:

  Spray Crock-Pot with nonstick butter-flavored spray. Place onion, then chicken into Crock-Pot. Sprinkle taco seasoning packet on top of chicken. Pour salsa over seasoned chicken. Cook on low for 6–8 hours (Angie cooks hers for 11 hours).

  Fifteen minutes before serving, take chicken out of Crock-Pot. Mix cornstarch with sour cream and a little juice from Crock-Pot. Pour mixture back into the Crock-Pot and stir until smooth. Return chicken to the Crock-Pot and heat until everything is hot again. The sauce from this is also very tasty on baked potatoes. If the recipe is too large for your family, it freezes well. Serve this on a baked potato or rice (white or brown for a healthier meal). Enjoy.

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed the first story in the Lilac Circle series. In every book, my goal is that you walk away with something to think about in your faith or life journey just as the characters travel a road that led them to growth as a person and as a child of God. I enjoyed creating these characters and hope you found them interesting. The next book you will get to know more about two of the neighbors and you will share the joys and sorrows of their lives.

  The idea for this series came to me when I thought about small towns where people tend to know each other well. I realized that this can happen on a residential street, so I placed this cul-de-sac in a real town in mid-Michigan that has a number of dead-end streets with a layout very much like Lilac Circle. I visited the town and took photos of the homes. I talked to people, visited their restaurants and stores, spent time in the bookstore and enjoyed some of the places known for entertaining families. The town also has numerous community events, and I knew this was the perfect location for this series.

  Since I enjoy eating and preparing food, I like to share recipes with you in my books. Angie’s Crock-Pot Fiesta Chicken is one of my favorites that my husband prepares. I hope you try it and enjoy the easy yet tasty meal. I will share another recipe in the next novel.

  Thank you for reading my books and for the kind emails and letters I receive from
many of you. I enjoy hearing from readers and love seeing your comments and reviews on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Christian Books and other internet booksellers’ sites. I pray the Lord covers you with His love and grace and holds you close.

  Many blessings,

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

  You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.

  Enjoy six new stories from Love Inspired every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

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  Chapter One

  It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  Sarah Nolt couldn’t resist the temptation. Gott would probably punish her for coveting something so fancy. She allowed the tip of her finger to glide across the surface of the sewing machine gleaming in the store’s overhead lights.

  She closed her eyes and imagined stitching her dream quilt. Purple sashing would look perfect with the patch of irises she’d create out of scraps of lavender and blue fabrics and hand stitch to the center of the diagonal-block quilt.

  “Some things are best not longed for,” Marta Nolt whispered close to Sarah’s ear.

  Sarah jumped as if she’d been stung by a wasp. A flush of guilt washed over her from head to toe. “You startled me.” She shot a glance at her lifelong friend and sister-in-law—the two had grown up together and had even married each other’s brothers. Had Marta seen her prideful expression? All her life she’d been taught pride was a sin. She wasn’t convinced it was.

  Compared to Sarah’s five-foot-four frame, Marta appeared as tiny as a twelve-year-old in her dark blue spring dress and finely stitched, stiff white prayer kapp. Marta’s brows furrowed. “It is better I startled you than your daed, Sarah. He’s just outside the door waiting for us. He said to hurry, that he has more important things to do than wait on you this morning. Did you do something to irritate him again? One day he’ll tell the elders what you’ve been up to and—”

  “And they’ll what? Call me in for another scolding and long prayer, and then threaten to tell the Bishop how unruly a widow I am?” Sarah turned for one last look at the gleaming machine and moved away.

  “If they find out about you giving Lukas money, you’ll be shunned. You know they’re looking for someone to blame and wanting to set an example since he ran away with young Ben in tow. Everyone believes they’ve joined the Englisch rescue house. The boys’ father is beyond angry. Nerves have become rattled throughout the community. People are asking who else is planning to leave.”

  “I’m not joining if that’s what you’re thinking. I wasted my time by looking at a sewing machine I can’t ever have. I dream. Nothing more. How can that fine piece of equipment be so full of sin just because it’s electric and fancy? It’s made to produce the finest of quilts.”

  Sarah shoved back a lock of hair and tucked it into her kapp. “Last week an Englisch woman used one of the machines for a sewing demonstration. My heart almost leaped out of my chest, Marta. You should have seen the amazing details it sewed. It would take a year or more for us to make such perfect stitches by hand. Daed needs money for a new field horse. If I had this machine, I could make quilts more quickly and sell them to the Englisch on market day. I could make enough money to keep my farm and eat more than cooked cabbage and my favorite white duck.”

  “All you have to do is ask for help, Sarah. You are so stubborn. The community will—”

  “Rally round? Tell me I must sell Joseph’s farm because a family deserves it more than a helpless widow. Nee, I don’t want their help.”

  “Careful. Someone might hear you.”

  Marta had always tried to accept the community’s harsh rules, but today her words of mindless obedience angered Sarah. “I will not ask for help and will not be silent. Will Gott finally be satisfied if He takes everything dear from me, including my dreams?”

  “Ach, don’t be so bitter. Your anger comes from a place of pain. You need to pray. Ask Gott to remove the ache in your heart.” Marta took her hand and squeezed hard. “Since Joseph died you’ve done nothing but stir up the community’s wrath. You know what your daed’s like. He’ll only take so much before he lets the Bishop come down hard on you. You can’t keep bringing shame on the Yoder name.”

  “I don’t care about my daed’s pride of name. Is his pride not sin too? I am a Nolt now, not a Yoder. I’m a twenty-five-year-old widow. Not a child. I will make my own decisions. You wait and see.”

  “Meine liebe. The suddenness of Joseph’s death brought you to this place of anger and confusion. Don’t grieve him so. His funeral is over, the coffin closed. It was Gott’s will for Joseph to die. We must not ever question, Sarah. Joseph was my older brother, but I’m content to know he’s with the old ones and happy in heaven.”

  Memories of the funeral haunted Sarah’s sleep. “I’m glad you are able to find peace in this rigid community, Marta. I really am. But I can’t. Not since Gott let Joseph die in such a horrible way. To burn to death in a barn fire is too horrible. What kind of Gott lets this happen to a man of faith? This cruel Gott has nee place in my life.” Sarah sighed deeply. Will I ever be happy again and at peace?

  She reached out a trembling hand and grabbed a card of hooks-and-eyes and threw it in the store’s small plastic shopping basket that hung off her wrist. She added several large spools of basic blue, purple and black thread and turned back toward Marta, who stood fingering a skein of baby-soft yarn in the lightest shade of blue. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

  “Nee.” Marta’s ready smile vanished. “I’m not pregnant. Gott must intend for me to rear others’ kinder and not my own.”

  Marta had miscarried three times. Talk among the older women was there would be no bobbel for her sister-in-law unless she had an operation. Sarah knew the young couple’s farm wasn’t doing well. There would be no money for expensive procedures in Englisch hospitals for Marta, even if the Bishop would allow it.

  Sarah said, “I wish—”

  “I know. I wish it, too. A baby for Eric and me. And Joseph still alive for you. But Gott doesn’t always give us what we want or make an easy path to walk.”

  Heavy footsteps announced Sarah’s father’s approach. Both women grew silent.

  “Do you realize the sun is at its zenith and a man grows hungry?” Adolph Yoder’s sharp tone cut like a knife. The short-statured man rubbed his rotund stomach and glared at his only daughter.

  Sarah straightened the sweat-soaked collar of her father’s blue shirt and smiled, trying hard to show her love for the angry man. “I’m sorry, Daed. Time got away from us.” Sarah gathered the last of the sewing things she needed and tried to match his fast pace down the narrow aisle.

  Her father stopped abruptly and turned toward her. His blue eyes flashed. “You must learn to drive your own wagon, daughter. Do your own fetching. Enough time has passed.”

  “Ya.” Sarah nodded. He turned away and moved toward the door. She thought back to the times she’d begged him to teach her the basics of directing a horse or mending a wheel, but nothing had ever come of it. He had always been too busy trying to be both Mamm and Daed to her and her younger brother, Eric. She blamed herself and her mother’s sudden disappearance into the Englisch world on her father’s angry moods. Once again she wished her mamm had taken her with her when she’d left Lancaster County.

  Joseph would have been happy to teach her to drive, but Gott had taken him too soon. Bitterness swelled in her heart, adding to the pain already there
. Tears pooled in her eyes and slid down her cheeks as she thought of him. She brushed them away, not willing to show her pain.

  Moments later the familiar woman at the checkout line greeted Sarah as she might an Englisch customer. “Hello, Sarah. How are you today, dear?”

  “Gut, and you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine as I can be,” she responded. “You’re buying an awful lot of thread. You ladies planning one of your quilting bees?”

  “Nee, just stocking up.” Sarah emptied the small basket on the counter and began stacking the spools of thread.

  “Well, you let me know if you need someone to help sell your quilts. I’ll be glad to place them in the shop window for a small fee. You do beautiful work. You should be sewing professionally.”

  Distracted by her thoughts, Sarah tried hard to follow the older woman’s friendly banter. “Danke. I’ll speak to the Bishop’s wife and see what she says, but I don’t hold much hope. There are rules about selling wares in an Englisch shop. You know how strict some are.”

  “Yeah, I do.” She patted Sarah’s hand.

  Sarah’s father walked past and glanced at the two women. He hurried out of the shop, letting the door slam. His bad mood meant problems for Sarah. When riled, he could be very cruel. She had no one to blame but herself for his bad attitude today. She knew he grew tired of her lack of control and rule breaking. People were openly talking about her. She had to learn to keep her mouth closed and distance herself from the Englisch.

  Sarah hurried out of the store and trailed behind Marta. Fancy Englisch cars dotted the parking lot. She made her way to her father’s buggy parked under a cluster of old oaks.

  He stood talking to a man unfamiliar to Sarah. The man turned toward her as she approached. He wore a traditional blue Amish shirt, his black pants wrinkled and dusty, as if he’d been traveling for days. The black hat on his head barely controlled his nest of dishwater-blond curls. Joseph had been blond and curly-haired, too. Memories flooded in. Her heart ached.