Praise for
The Englisch Daughter
“Cindy Woodsmall and Erin Woodsmall are a gifted writing team! This book is perfect for those who love Amish stories that handle contemporary issues with grace and wisdom. Family drama, romance, and a touch of mystery will keep readers up late, turning the pages to learn the outcome for these special characters.”
—CARRIE TURANSKY, award-winning author of No Ocean Too Wide and Across the Blue
“Cindy Woodsmall is such a gifted writer: her stories are captivating, her understanding of Amish life is spot on, and her characters never fail to come alive. Highly recommended!”
—MINDY STARNS CLARK, best-selling author of The Amish Midwife
“With a deft handling of a marriage in crisis, Cindy Woodsmall and Erin Woodsmall take readers on a compelling emotional journey depicting the healing power of love.”
—LISA CARTER, author of Under a Turquoise Sky
THE ENGLISCH DAUGHTER
Scripture quotations and paraphrases are taken from the following versions: King James Version; New American Standard Bible®. Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by the Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org); the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
Trade Paperback ISBN 9780735291027
Ebook ISBN 9780735291034
Copyright © 2020 by Cindy Woodsmall
Cover design and photography by Kelly L. Howard
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States by WaterBrook, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC.
WATERBROOK® and its deer colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Woodsmall, Cindy, author. | Woodsmall, Erin, author.
Title: The englisch daughter : a novel / by Cindy Woodsmall and Erin Woodsmall.
Description: First Edition. | [Colorado Springs] : WaterBrook, 2020.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019027353 | ISBN 9780735291027 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780735291034 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Amish—Fiction. | GSAFD: Christian fiction. | Love stories.
Classification: LCC PS3623.O678 E54 2020 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019027353
ep_prh_5.5.0_c0_r0
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Epilogue
Readers Guide
Glossary
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Books by Cindy Woodsmall
One
Snuggled under her great-grandmother’s quilt, Jemima woke to the sound of slow, easy movement in the room. She opened her eyes and saw silhouettes of the furniture despite the darkness of a winter night. Her husband was up. Without shifting her position to confirm that, she knew it was true.
Familiar warring emotions tugged at her. She wanted to get up with him, fix a pot of coffee, and talk the way they used to. At the same time, she wanted to hide from him, so she lay still as if she were asleep.
Shouldn’t today be a great celebration for them? Exactly a year ago her husband and their oldest daughter, Laura, had been headed toward town in a horse and buggy when a car topped the hill behind them and hit them. They were grateful that God had spared Roy’s and Laura’s lives, but navigating that time and coming back together as a family had been difficult. In those early months of healing, she constantly gave thanks to the Almighty that Roy had survived, and when Roy and she were able to be in the same home at night, she’d held him close, whispering her gratefulness aloud. But with each passing day, he seemed to become more distant. What happened to him while she was staying with her family?
The news of the accident had reached Jemima within the hour, but her husband and daughter had already been airlifted to a hospital. By the time she arrived—thanks to the help of an Englisch neighbor—both were in surgery. When she finally saw her husband and daughter, they were unconscious and connected to tubes and monitors. Roy woke within forty-eight hours and Laura a day later.
His steps were quiet as he approached the bed, and she closed her eyes. The aroma of her husband, freshly showered for the day, filled her senses, and she longed to reach through the darkness for his hand. He seemed to wait at the side of the bed. Was he thinking of waking her? Was he praying for her?
It wasn’t likely. Not these days.
Why was he up this early? It had to be at least two hours before sunup, although she couldn’t see the clock to know for sure. He owned a horse farm but also had horses boarded elsewhere, and tending to those horses required long hours and often pulled him from home.
“What?” His whisper sounded angry. She hadn’t heard his cell phone ring, but apparently he’d taken a call.
When she opened her eyes, he was going toward the bedroom door, holding the cell phone to his ear. She missed the days when Amish men had cell phones only for business and were required to turn them off before entering the house.
He paused in the doorway and turned, seeming to look straight at her. He was bathed in moonlight, but her face was hidden by a shadow, and she knew he couldn’t see that her eyes were open. What was on his mind as he paused, looking into the bedroom? A moment later he closed the door behind him.
She moved her hand to his side of the bed, hoping to feel the warmth from where he’d been. It was as cold as it was empty, and her heart thudded with loneliness. What had happened to them?
The baby cried out from his crib behind her, and Jemima rose. She pulled a blanket over eight-month-old Simeon and patted his back until he fell asleep again. Her white nightgown was no match for winter in an old farmhouse, so she grabbed the knit shawl from the rocker, put it around her shoulders, and went to the window. Roy he
ld a lit barn lantern by the metal handle as he walked toward the stables.
What were they doing? He was right there, just outside the home they’d shared for ten years, yet they seemed isolated in separate worlds.
A desire to be who they’d once been washed over her, and she knocked on the window. He continued onward. She knocked harder and then jolted back, fearing she’d woken Simeon. The baby didn’t stir, but Roy stopped walking and turned around. As she hurried toward the bedroom door, the moonlight reflected off something on her pillow. He’d written her a note.
Most of their communication of late was through notes. Nothing of marital value was ever said. They were only memos of where they were going and when they’d return. Is this who they were now? She flew down the creaking wooden steps and opened the back door. A blast of cold air rushed inside, and her husband was there, so close she gasped.
“Jem, is something wrong?” The light from the lantern revealed his green eyes and the compassion she used to see in them.
She wanted to cry out the words everything and nothing and then fall into his embrace. But his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his coat pocket, texted a quick response, and slid it back into his pocket. He needed to go, and here she stood, wordless. And thankless and spoiled as well, she supposed.
He walked back into the house, shutting the door behind him, and she retreated a few steps. His lantern was the only source of light, but it was plenty. She wanted an honest conversation. She longed for him to love her as he once had, but she couldn’t voice those feelings. Following the accident, he’d given his all, and maybe he had nothing left to give. Maybe he was like a field that needed to rest before it could yield another harvest.
A small smile tugged at his lips. Did he feel obligated to respond with kindness to the delay she was causing? That’s how he treated her these days—as if she were another duty on his long to-do list. But in her presence, he never stepped outside of being respectful. However, he seemed to go out of his way to be sure he was rarely in her presence.
“Did you get my note?” His voice was as quiet as the house itself.
She hadn’t read it, but it was in her hands, so she nodded. “Ya. Can I fix you some breakfast?”
“Denki, but I need to go.”
Did he even remember? “Today is the anniversary.”
His brows knit, and he barely shook his head before she saw realization come to him. Then they both seemed lost in the memory of it.
Even after he and Laura had regained consciousness in the hospital, Jemima’s hands had trembled constantly for days. She was five months pregnant with Simeon at the time, and she began having horrible headaches, blurry vision, and shortness of breath. Roy had insisted she be seen by a doctor. Her blood pressure had gone from normal to high. Her doctor said the new condition put her in the high-risk category, and he’d ordered eighteen to twenty hours of bed rest daily. How was she, a pregnant mom with an injured husband and a child in the hospital, even supposed to go home for a good night’s rest, let alone take care of her other two healthy children while resting that much?
The man standing in front of her, the one she hardly recognized these days, had come up with the answer. He had ignored his doctor’s orders and his own pain and stayed with Laura every night so Jemima could go home and sleep. When Jemima arrived at the hospital each day, he returned to the farm and worked. He asked their families to set aside their usual work schedules and responsibilities to take shifts at the hospital each afternoon until he arrived for the night shift.
He made no move to hug her or sit at the table with her for even a few minutes. She wanted to hit him…or embrace him. Above all else, she wanted to demand that he return to her. But she refused to ask one more thing of him.
His eyes held her. “It’ll get better, Jem. I promise,” he whispered.
She bit back tears and forced a smile and a nod. His statement meant he felt the barrier between them too, didn’t it? Yet despite her asking him what was wrong several times, he’d offered no insight and no explanation. If she asked again, he’d tell her the same as always: Nothing. Just work.
He drew a breath. “I’ve made arrangements with Chris, that farmhand I’ve talked to several times. He’s good with horses, and years ago he took a few computer classes, so he’ll be able to assist with all manner of record keeping, scheduling, and bookkeeping, if need be. He should be here early next week.”
She was glad to hear that Roy was putting effort into getting some relief from the workload, but why hadn’t he told her this before now? “Does Abigail know?”
Roy’s younger sister was an odd, beautiful creature who was their sanity most days. She had more energy than she knew what to do with, and she purposefully kept life busy in order to cope with it. She taught at a local Amish school, worked with special-needs children outside of that, and volunteered regularly at several places within the community. But for the last year, she’d given as much time as possible to the horse farm.
“I mentioned it was a possibility. She really wants to get back to her volunteer work and scheduled off days, so I didn’t want to get her hopes up until I knew for sure he was coming.”
“You just told me that he was coming, didn’t you?” Had she misunderstood?
“I’ve tried to get him here a few times over the last several years, but it’s never quite worked out. Still, I think he’s coming this time.”
“But you don’t actually know, despite what you said just a minute ago.” The disbelief in her voice said it all, and his eyes moved from her face to the floor. Why had he talked as if it was a sure thing, but when she asked one question, he wavered? It seemed that she was no longer important enough for him to take the time to explain the situation unless she pressed him.
“I said he should be here next week, which means maybe, Jem. He doesn’t intend to move to our area or live on our farm, but I believe we’ve struck a deal where he’ll work part time and it’ll give us some decent relief from the workload. That’s all I know. You think I’m not being honest with you about a farmhand?”
She should’ve stayed in bed. It hurt less to lie there in loneliness than to be chided by a man who was clearly trying to keep the farm going—the buying, training, and selling of horses. “I didn’t mean…” She drew a weary breath. “I’m sorry.”
His phone buzzed again, and he glanced at the screen. “I need to go. I doubt I’ll see you again until tomorrow afternoon.”
“What?”
He pointed at the note in her hand. “You didn’t read it, did you?”
Embarrassment singed her cheeks as she shook her head.
He pursed his lips and gave a nod. “There’s a horse auction tonight in Virginia.” His words were slow and soft, seemingly filled with patience. “My sources say it’s a good one with good stock. If it is, this may be the break I’ve been looking for. But it’s five hours by car, and it won’t end until late, too late to return tonight.” His phone vibrated, and his face grew taut with frustration. He drew a deep breath. “I need to go.”
“I forgot the horse auction was this weekend. There’s a food-truck auction in town. It’ll have a few trucks, and one of them will be the Smiths’ truck.”
He stared at her as his breathing grew shallow. “The Smiths are selling now? I thought they’d decided to keep the food truck for a few more years.”
She’d had her eye on that truck for a long time. It currently sat in the perfect spot, so if they could get the truck and the license for the same spot, that would be perfect. “I guess they changed their minds, and we always said when that truck came up for auction, we’d be first in line. The auction is tomorrow at one.”
“Our little ones are so young. Starting a new business now would be a lot to take on.”
They’d talked about this for years, and he’d been on board, hadn’t he? His sister Abigail would give up
her teaching position, and she and Jemima would divvy up the work hours. The plan was to operate seven hours a day, six days a week during tourist season—May through August—and only on Saturdays in the fall and spring. They wouldn’t open at all during winter.
“Really?” Jemima asked.
He grimaced. “Ya, okay.” He sighed. “Whatever else happens, I will meet you tomorrow afternoon on the town square with money in hand for the auction.”
He remained in place, studying her.
Why did he sound so reluctant? Was it simply the timing—that he needed to be in Virginia tonight for the horse auction and back here tomorrow for the food-truck auction? They’d been saving for her dream since before they’d married, and Abigail had been saving along with them for the last nine years.
Jemima’s dream of having a food truck, a dream she’d had since she was a young teen, was unusual for an Amish woman but not forbidden. She wanted to serve authentic Amish foods. When Roy had asked Jemima to marry him, he had promised that her dream wouldn’t be lost because of becoming his wife and the mother of his children. He would make sure of it.
But maybe she should offer to give up that dream if it would help them even a little. She would celebrate giving it up if somehow that would tear down the walls between them and bring Roy back to her. But even now as he stood in front of her, making promises, she felt powerless in their relationship. The idea of owning a business brought more than hope. It gave her a much-needed sense of being in charge of one thing in her life.
His phone buzzed multiple times in quick succession. He looked at the screen, and without saying anything else he left, taking the lantern with him.
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