When the ceremony ended, the festivities began. Levi had but a moment to realize he was the luckiest man alive before he was quickly led away by his groomsmen. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Sarah being shepherded away by his sister and Faith Lapp.
The women of the congregation moved to the kitchen and started getting ready to serve dinner. The men arranged tables in a U-shape around the walls of the living room.
In the corner of the room facing the front door, the honored place, the Eck, meaning the corner table, was quickly set up for the wedding party.
When it was ready, Levi took his place with his groomsmen seated to his right. Sarah was ushered back in and took her seat at his left-hand side. It symbolized the place she would occupy in his buggy and in his life. Her cheeks were rosy red and her eyes sparkled with happiness. They clasped hands underneath the table. She was everything he could have asked for and more.
There would be a long day of celebration and feasting, but tonight would come, and she would be his alone.
Moses elbowed him in the side. “Put your tongue back in your head bruder, you look like a panting dog. Greet your guests.”
Still unable to believe how blessed he was, Levi released Sarah’s hand and began to speak to the people who filed past.
The single men were arranged along the table to his right and the single women were arranged along the tables to Sarah’s left. Later, for the evening meal, the young, unmarried people would be paired up according to the bride and groom’s choosing.
Levi leaned over. “You will have a chance to sharpen your matchmaking skills this evening.”
“My skills are sharp enough. I found you a wife, didn’t I?”
“Ja, and a right fine wife she is.”
“I wonder who would do for Joann?”
“Look for a fellow with his own fly rod and a full tackle box.”
Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Men are so limited in their thinking when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“Are you saying I don’t have matchmaking skills?”
“Let us see. Who do you want to pair with Amos Fisher?”
“Leah. I think she could make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”
“No. Leah needs someone quite special. I’ll have to think on that one. Oh, I see Roman Weaver coming this way.”
The pale young man stopped in front of them. He wore a sling. A thick cast covered his right arm. Sarah had heard he would never recover the full use of it. He said, “I wanted to thank you and your brothers for helping my family with my hospital bills.”
“It was our pleasure, Roman,” Sarah assured him.
“You would do the same for us,” Levi added.
As Roman walked away, Sarah said, “I wonder if he and Joann know each other?”
“Ah, Sarah, one thing I know for sure. My life will never be boring with you by my side.”
She smiled brightly and his heart turned over with happiness. “Say it again, my wife.”
“Levi.” She blushed and looked to see who might have noticed.
“Say it, Sarah, please.”
She didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. Leaning close, she whispered in his ear. “I love you, Levi Beachy, for now and for always.”
It was exactly what his heart needed to hear.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of Montana Dreams by Jillian Hart!
Dear Reader,
I hope you have enjoyed A Hope Springs Christmas. I was happy to help widow Sarah Wyse and Levi Beachy find the love they so richly deserved. I’m a big believer in love. Not just the love that makes a person go weak in the knees when they kiss. That kind of love is a wonderful way to start a relationship, but the love that grows over time and endures trials and challenges, that’s the love I want my characters to find.
A Hope Springs Christmas is the seventh book I’ve written about the Amish in this fictional town. I feel as if I’ve come to know them, their funny quirks and their deep abiding faith. I hope you feel as if you know them, too.
Will there be more Hope Springs stories? I hope so, because Leah deserves to find her one true love, and I know that Joann could hook a winner if she used the right bait. Mary Shetler had such a troubled start to motherhood. She needs to find a young man who can see past her mistakes and be a father to her child. And Sally? That girl has secrets and doubts that she hides behind her endless questions. She’ll need a strong man of faith to match her strong will. I’m not sure who it will be. I do know this, love springs eternal in Hope Springs, Ohio.
Blessings,
Patricia Davids
Questions for Discussion
Sarah used her devotion to her job to keep from facing the sadness she felt each holiday season. Are the holidays difficult for you or someone you know? What can you do to help?
Grace was so worried about how her family would manage without her that she put her own happiness on hold. Do you sometimes feel smothered by the demands of your family? How can you make time for yourself?
Sarah discovered something she didn’t know about Levi in chapter three. What was it? Why was it important?
Was Sarah right or wrong in her attempt to show the twins she disapproved of their behavior toward Henry? Should she have left it to Levi? What was it about his relationship with his brothers that began to change when Sarah refused to have them over to lunch?
Levi believes Gideon is mistaken when he suggests Levi is harboring deeper feelings toward Sarah. Have you seen two people you sense are falling in love? What gives them away?
Levi doesn’t feel he fits in with the people around him at the church service even though he’s known them all his life. Was it because he had to grow up too soon? What is one way we can foster a feeling of togetherness in people so that they don’t feel excluded in our churches?
The stunt the twins pulled with Dan and Susan Hershberger was funny, but it could have turned to be a tragedy. Have you ever done something you thought would be funny only to have it backfire? What happened?
Do you know a prankster like the twins? What would you like to say to them?
Sarah worked hard at matchmaking for Levi, but to no avail. Have you ever tried your hand at matchmaking? Have you set up a family member or friend with someone you thought they would like? How did it go? Would you try again?
I love fishing. I would choose fishing over almost any activity. What is your favorite pastime? Are you a quilter? A baker? What would you do if you were faced with engaging in an activity you didn’t like, but had to do it for a friend?
Sarah was afraid to love again because she feared losing that person. Have you or someone you know suffered the “death” of love through divorce or loss of a spouse? How difficult is it to overcome the doubts that follow such an event? How does a person begin to believe in love again?
The gathering of women for a quilting bee or frolic is one of the iconic images we think of when we think of the Amish. Are the quilts made by many hands less valuable than the quilts made by a single person? What determines the value of a quilt in your eyes?
What passage or phrase in this story resonated the most with you? Why?
Which characters would you like to revisit and why?
What did you like the most about this story?
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.
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Chapter One
“You always were good for nothing, girl.” Her father’s bitter voice grumbled through the small, unkempt house. “Get the lead out of your lazy butt and fetch me something to eat. I’m gettin’ hungry.”
Millie Wilson straightened up, mop handle clutched in one hand, closed her eyes and prayed for strength. The Lord had to help her because she wasn’t sure she could do this without Him. The call in the middle of the night, a doctor’s voice on the other end of the line, her father’s collapse and terminal prognosis. If only there had been anyone—anyone at all—to take over his care. “I have to go to the market, Dad.”
“You should have thought of that earlier,” he barked from the other room.
And I came back, why? She swished the mop into the sudsy bucket, wrung it out and scoured the last patch of kitchen floor. Marginally better, but it was going to take more than one pass over. She didn’t want to think how long it had been since the floor had a proper cleaning—it would take a scrub brush and a lot of elbow grease to get out the dirt ground into the texture of the linoleum—a job for another time. Her back ached just thinking of it.
“Millie?” A knock echoed above the hum of the air conditioner. A familiar face smiled in at her, visible through the pane of glass in the door. The foreman tipped his Stetson and rolled the tobacco around to his other cheek while he waited for her to open the door.
“Hi, Milton. What’s up?” She squinted in the bright summer sun.
“We got problems. Paychecks bounced. Again.” Milton paused a moment to gather his spit, turn aside and spew a stream of tobacco juice into the barren flower bed. “The boys aren’t going to stand for this. They’ve got rent due and mouths to feed.”
“I know.” Why didn’t this surprise her either? She rubbed her forehead, which was beginning to pound. “I’m overwhelmed here. I haven’t even thought about Dad’s finances.”
“They’re a shambles, that’s what.” Milton shook his head, his weathered face lined with a mixture of grief and disgust. “Work is scarce in this part of the county. No one wants to walk away from a job right now. I know Whip is sick, but if he doesn’t take care of his workers, then we can’t work for free. Those cows need to be milked no matter what.”
“Give me a day to problem solve. Can you ask everyone to wait? I’m here now, I’ve been here for two hours. Let me figure out what’s what, and I’ll do everything I can to make good on those checks.”
“We appreciate that, Millie. I know you’ll do your best by us, but I don’t know what the boys will go for.” Milton tipped his hat in a combination of thanks and farewell before he ambled toward the steps. “Keep in mind that if things don’t get better...”
“I hear you.” Someone had to do the work, and it took a team of men to do it. As Milton headed off back down the driveway, Millie wondered if she remembered how to run a milking parlor. That part of her life seemed a world away, nearly forgotten. Probably intentionally.
“Put ice cream on that list, girl, and get a move on.” In his room, Pa must have hit the remote because the soundtrack from a spaghetti Western drowned out every other noise in the house and kept her from arguing. The pop of gunfire and the drum of galloping horses accompanied her while she upended her mop bucket over the sink, stowed the meager cleaning supplies and made a mental grocery list.
Time to blow this place. She grabbed her purse and the big ring of farm keys. She called out to her dad, not sure if he could hear her over the blaring television and hopped out the front door.
“Mom.” Simon looked up, pushed his round glasses higher on his nose with a thumb and held out a handful of wildflowers. “I picked them for you.”
“You did?” Just what she needed. One look at her nine-year-old son eased the strain of the tough last couple of hours. Love filled her heart like a tidal wave as the black-haired boy with deep blue eyes ran across a lawn that had gone wild. Blossoms danced in his fist as he held them up to her.
Better than roses any day. “Thank you. They’re wonderful. I love them.”
“I thought you needed something, you know, to make you smile.” He shrugged his shoulders, his button face puckered up with worry. “You’ve frowned the whole time, ever since you said we had to come here.”
“Really? Oh, I didn’t mean to. Sorry about that, kiddo.” She took a moment to admire her bouquet of yellow sunflowers, snowy daisies, purple coneflowers and cheerful buttercups. “These certainly should do the trick. Am I smiling?”
“Yeah. Much better.” When he grinned, deep dimples cut into his cheeks, so like his father’s that it drove straight to her heart.
It was one pain that would never fade. She’d stopped trying to make it disappear years ago. There was just no use. Once, she’d loved Simon’s father with all the depth of her being. Losing him had shattered her. Ten years later and she still hadn’t found a way to make her heart whole.
Being back home in this little corner of Montana made her wonder. Just how much would she remember—things she couldn’t hold back? She sighed, thinking of how young she’d been, of how truly she’d loved the man and, yes, it hurt to remember. She ran a hand along her son’s cheek—such a sweet boy—and kept the smile on her face.
Simon was what mattered now.
“Guess what?” she asked. “I need a copilot.”
“I’m on it.” Simon leaped ahead, dashing toward the old Ford pickup. “Where’re we goin’?”
“To the grocery store, unless you want to eat stale crackers and dried-up peanut butter for supper.”
“Not so much. Can we have pizza?” He yanked open the black truck’s door. The rusty old thing squeaked and groaned as he scrambled behind the steering wheel and across the ripped bench seat. “It could be the on-sale kind. Want me to see if we got a coupon?”
“That would be a big help.”
She eyed the truck warily. It had been a long time since she’d driven a pickup. Totally different from her compact car and she had to adjust the seat, the mirrors and dig for the seat belt—it was buried in the crumbs, hayseed and grain bits that had accumulated in the crack of the seat over what had to be decades.
“I’m on it.” Simon slipped his hand into the outside pocket of her handbag, extracted an envelope and began sorting through her coupon collection. His forehead furrowed in concentration. His cowlick stood up straight from the crown of his head in a lazy swirl.
Just like his father’s.
Stop thinking about that man. She had enough to contend with without borrowing heartache. She refused to wonder what had happened to the man. The love she had for him was long dead and buried. Did he still live around here or had he moved? It wasn’t as if she’d kept in touch with anyone in the valley, so she’d never heard a scrap of the news since her father had thrown her out of the house when she was nineteen.
“Found it!” Simon’s triumph was drowned out by the roar of the badly timed engine. He waved the coupon while she dug out his seat belt, too. “I hope they have the pepperoni kind at the store.”
“Me, too.” She couldn’t help trying to smooth down the ruffle of hair, but his cowlick stayed up stubbornly.
“Mom?”
“What?” She wrestled the truck into Drive, which shouldn’t be so hard with an automatic, and nosed the pickup down the driveway.
“How long do we gotta stay here?” He tucked the coupon in the front of the fat envelope.
“I don’t know. I wish I did, believe me.” Gravel crunched beneath the tires as she fought the pickup around a curve. “I want to go home just as much as you do.”
“I miss my friends.”
“Me, too.”
They smiled together as the pickup bumped down the last stretch of driveway. Cows grazed behind sagging fences. Across
the county road, moss glinted on the barn’s roof, which happened to be missing more than a few shingles. As she cranked the steering wheel to the right hard, manhandling the rattling truck onto the pavement, she wondered just how long Dad had been letting things slide and why no one had looked her up to tell her. She may have moved out of state, but she wasn’t that hard to find.
Amber fields whipped by, grass bronzing in the hot summer sun.
“How come Grandpa doesn’t share his TV?”
“That’s just the way he is.” Her mother had a small set in the kitchen, but it was not there now. She had no idea where it went or what had gone on around here in the last ten years. One thing was for certain, a lot of things had changed. The farm was no longer top-notch, money was apparently wanting and her father? The robust man he’d once been had withered away.
“I know we’ve got to get by and you’re not working or anything.” Simon took a deep breath. “But how am I gonna watch my shows?”
“That’s a good question. I’ll try and figure something out, okay?”
“Okay.” He stared off down the road. “Maybe we won’t be here long.”
“Maybe.” Simon didn’t know that they would be leaving only after her father died. Sorrow burned behind her eyes, which was unexpected considering how she’d once loathed her dad with every fiber of her being. She checked her rearview mirror for traffic out of habit—of course, there was none, not on this rural road—and flicked her gaze to the pavement ahead. Farmland spread around her like a patchwork quilt in irrigated greens, dried ambers and barn roofs glinting in the sun.
One more corner and they zipped past the little row of rental houses, bright with new paint, where her one-and-only love had lived. Was he still there or had he moved on to bigger and better things? Maybe he’d left town entirely—that’s what she dearly hoped. The last thing she wanted was to run into him, face-to-face. Pain seared her heart, tender after all these years.
Patricia Davids Christmas Brides of Amish Country: An Amish ChristmasThe Christmas QuiltA Hope Springs Christmas Page 56