* * *
Linda tried to get her mind around what Amos was saying. Someone had come seeking her and Polly? She stared at him. “But I thought—”
“That you’d recover your memories and go looking for them?” He smiled as he lifted Polly and settled her on his shoulders. “What does it matter? Komm! They’re waiting to see you.”
How could she explain what she didn’t understand? Since she’d stumbled into the parking lot at the shops, she’d believed her memories would return to her at any moment. Then she’d find the answers to the puzzles taunting her.
Now...
Forgive me, Lord, for questioning Your way. I should be grateful if these people know Polly and me. But You know my heart and how happiness and hope can live side by side with grief at the idea of leaving here.
Lifting her chin so nobody could guess the disparity between what she felt and what she should be experiencing, she went with Amos. A single glance at him told her, even if she could conceal the truth from others, he knew what was in her heart. She treasured that realization.
They went into the kitchen. In the front room, she could see Amos’s brothers as well as Wanda and Leah.
Polly wiggled to get down. The moment Amos set her on the floor, she ran and threw herself into the old woman’s outstretched arms. “Grossmammi! Grossdawdi!” The little girl sobbed with joy when the elderly man put his arms around her. Then Polly ran back to Linda and hugged her. “You kept your promise. Just as Amos said you would.”
Everyone looked at Linda. On wooden feet that seemed to be trying to grow roots into the floor, she forced herself to move forward as the little girl ran back to her grandparents. Polly knew the couple, but Linda couldn’t recall ever seeing them before. There was something about the shape of the old man’s face that reminded her of Polly’s, and the old woman had light blue eyes with navy edging them as Linda did.
The woman gasped, “It’s you, Belinda! You’re safe.”
“My name is Belinda?” She’d hoped her name would feel comfortable on her lips and open her sealed memories so they could spill out, but the name was as unknown to her as the elderly couple.
“Ja.” The old woman glanced from her to the others. “Why does she sound surprised at her own name?”
As Amos gave an abbreviated explanation, Linda learned the older couple’s names. They were her grandparents, and Polly was her little sister. Their parents lived in Ohio, and she and Polly had come to Pennsylvania to spend the holidays with their grandparents who lived near Shippensburg, a long day’s buggy ride to the west.
It made sense, and Polly knew the couple. It must be true, but...
“I’m sorry,” Linda said as the Glicks looked at her with the hope she’d hug them as Polly had. “I don’t know you. I can’t—” Her voice broke as she thought of leaving the Stoltzfus family who had become her family and going with people who were strangers.
Yvonne smiled. “My dear kind, it doesn’t matter if you don’t remember us. We know you!”
When she held out her arms to her, Linda—she needed to think of herself as Belinda—embraced the old woman. Some sense having nothing to do with her brain but everything to do with heart recognized the hug’s warmth.
“You’re my grossmammi.” It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. As if someone flipped the pages of a book in her mind, her head was flooded with images. Not images, memories. Her memories! Not just the ones she’d made since she arrived in Paradise Springs, but an explosion of memories from her past. Gut ones of being with her family, including her little sister Polly...and her other five sisters and three brothers. Happy ones of friends and the other families in their district in Ohio. Sad ones of the passing of her other grandparents as well as the end of a relationship she’d started because she knew her family expected her to find a young man to marry. Because being with him had been wrong from the beginning, her heart had filled with guilt and sorrow for being less than honest with him.
And bad memories, including a very, very bad memory at a bus station on their way to Shippensburg. Pain thundered across her skull as it had when she’d been attacked and robbed when she went to find out about which bus she and Polly should take next. She’d left her little sister sitting in the waiting area, because she’d planned to go only as far as the ticket counter, which was right in plain sight. She hadn’t even seen the ragged man approaching until he pressed his sharp knife against her side as he forced her around a corner. He stole her purse and struck her in the head with the knife’s butt, leaving her forgetting even her own name.
Later, when Polly wasn’t there to hear, she’d tell her family and Amos and his family the awful thing that had happened to her. For now, she silently thanked God for watching over her in that dark moment and guiding her to Amos.
Tears glistened in the eyes like her own. “Ja, I am your grossmammi. Thank the gut Lord that He restored your memories.” Her grossmammi hugged her again before stepping back so she could be enfolded in her grossdawdi’s arms.
Dozens of questions were fired at her, too many for her to answer at once. She tried to explain, skirting what had happened at the bus station.
When she finished, from behind her, Amos cleared his throat. “May I ask you a question, Norman?”
“Ask anything, my boy,” the old man said with a grin so wide it pushed his wrinkles to the edges of his cheeks. “You saved the lives of our kins-kinder. It’s something we’ll never forget.”
“Is Linda—Belinda, I mean—married?”
She blushed at the smiles on his brothers’ and mamm’s faces.
Norman replied, “No.”
“Or walking out with anyone?” Amos asked.
The older couple glanced at each other and laughed before Yvonne said, “The truth is, and Belinda didn’t know anything about this, her parents sent her and Polly to us for the holiday in the hope she’d meet someone here who’d touch her heart as no one in Ohio had. From your grin, young man, I’d say their hopes have been fulfilled.”
When Amos grasped her hand, Belinda let him tug her into the kitchen. In the front room, everyone else acted as if they were interested in the minuscule details of the Glicks’ journey from Shippensburg. Their voices faded beneath her thundering heartbeat when Amos turned her to face him.
She gazed into his eyes, seeing the love that thrilled her heart. “My name is Belinda Glick. I know that is my real name. It is such a joy to know that.”
“Then let me say this the right way. Ich liebe dich, Belinda.” His fingers curved along her face, gentle, questing, joining their hearts together in the moment they’d longed for.
“I love you, too. My name may have changed, but my love for you hasn’t.”
He kissed her left cheek and murmured, “I can kiss you without guilt because I know you aren’t walking out with anyone else.” He brushed his lips on her right cheek. “And I can kiss you without remorse because you aren’t married to someone else.” Cupping her chin, he held her gaze. “There’s one more way I want to kiss you. When you’re my wife. Will you marry me?”
“Ja, I’ll marry you.”
His eyes twinkled as he pulled her against his broad chest. “I know a marriage proposal may not be as wunderbaar a gift as a box of highlighters, but—”
She laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Being married to you’ll be the highlight of my life.”
Snorting, he teased, “Because until a few moments ago, you couldn’t remember most of your life, I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“But I have all my memories now, and I still say being married to you will be the highlight of my life.” She stilled his laughter and hers as she kissed him. Life with Amos would never be serious or boring. They’d make many memories together in the years to come, but one she’d always hold dear. As dear as she did this b
eloved man. It was this Christmas that she’d never forget.
* * * * *
Read on for an extract from THE COWBOY’S CHRISTMAS BABY by Carolyne Aarsen.
Dear Reader,
We are an accumulation of our experiences. Sifting through memories can be our own version of This is Your Life. If those memories vanish, the question of “Who am I?” demands an answer. I know that, too well, in the wake of a head injury. Even now, almost twenty years later, I have no memories of the week before and the six months following the accident. I was strengthened and reassured by the love of my husband and family, who helped me see that the memories yet to be made were more important than the ones forgotten. It’s a lesson I’ve kept close to my heart since. I hope you make some wonderful memories this holiday season.
Stop in and visit me at joannbrownbooks.com. Look for my next story in the Amish Hearts series coming soon from Love Inspired.
Wishing you many blessings,
Jo Ann Brown
The Cowboy’s Christmas Baby
by Carolyne Aarsen
Chapter One
It looked comfortably the same.
Erin McCauley parked her car in front of the Grill and Chill on the main street of the town of Saddlebank and turned off her car, her ears ringing in the sudden silence.
Though she had arranged to meet her sisters, Lauren and Jodie, at the ranch, she’d thought of stopping at the café to grab a soda because she was parched.
Her thirst was only part of her reason for her detour.
The other was that each mile she clocked northward from California to Montana increased the shame of the last ten months digging its unwelcome claws deeper with every roll of her car’s tires. Now that she was so close she had to fight the urge to turn her car around and drive back south.
So she used the excuse of a pit stop to delay the inevitable surprise and questions.
I should have told them, she thought, her mind ticking back to a time when she was a more innocent girl walking down these very streets. I should have told Lauren and Jodie everything that was happening in my life.
They would know soon enough, she reflected, stretching her hands out, making a face at her chipped nail polish. She eased her stiff and sore body out of the car and looked around the town with a sense of nostalgia.
The same brick buildings lined the street but the trees in front of them had grown taller and many of the flags flapping from their standards looked new. A bench and a couple of tables stood on a sidewalk in front of the Grill and Chill, but otherwise it was still the town of her early childhood.
A cool wind sifted down the street, tossing some stray papers and tugging a few leaves off the trees. It was mid-September. The kids were back in school and soon the leaves would be changing color.
I’m almost home.
The words settled into a soul in need of the solidity of this place. A soul disillusioned by life and by people. A soul that had grown tougher the past year.
The door of the Grill and Chill opened and a tall, lean figure stepped out, dropped a cowboy hat on his head and painstakingly worked his way down the three steps leading to the sidewalk. He moved with a pronounced limp, though he didn’t look that old. His plaid shirt was sprinkled with sawdust. A leather belt and a large rodeo competition buckle cinched frayed, faded blue jeans that ended on scuffed cowboy boots with worn-down heels.
He was the real deal, Erin thought, mentally comparing him to the fake cowboys she’d seen advertised on billboards on her drive up here from San Francisco.
When he lifted his head sea-green eyes met hers and her world spun backward.
The face looking back at her was hardened by time, grown leaner over the years. Stubble shaded a strong jaw and his eyes were fanned by wrinkles from spending time outside. But Dean Moore still held that air of heedlessness. The tilt of his head, the angle of his battered cowboy hat showed her he still looked at the world like it was his for the taking.
Then he smiled, his eyes lit up and his features were transformed.
The old curl of attraction that she had always fought when she was around him gripped her heart. Her mouth, if it was possible, became even drier.
He walked toward her, his smile growing. “Hey, there. What are you doing here?”
Erin stared at him, surprised at his casual question. But to her consternation, even after all these years and all that had happened to her, he could still lift her heart rate. “I’m headed home,” she managed.
“Vic said you were too busy to come to town. I thought you were getting ready for a visit from your uptight sister, if you’ll pardon the little joke.”
And then realization dawned.
He thought she was Lauren. Her twin sister. And she knew the exact moment he realized this himself.
His mouth shifted, his eyes narrowed and he visibly withdrew.
Crazy that this bothered her. Dean was so far in the past he may as well have been a character in the fairy stories she had once loved reading and drawing pictures of.
“My apologies. I thought you were—”
“Lauren,” she finished for him. “Sorry. I’m Erin. The uptight sister.”
He frowned as he assimilated this information, his hands slipping into the back pocket of his worn blue jeans. “Jodie and Lauren said you were coming this evening.” He didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed of himself.
“I’m early. Heavy foot.”
He was silent a beat, as if still absorbing the reality of her presence. “So. How’ve you been?”
She wanted to make some glib remark about what he’d said about her character but didn’t have the energy so she simply went with “Fine. I’m fine.”
“Right.” He gave her a tight smile, visibly retreating.
She shouldn’t be too surprised at his reaction or what he’d said about her. Every time he’d asked her out the summers she spent on her father’s ranch, she’d turned him down. He was a rough-living young man who rode hard, drank hard and played hard.
And yet, there had always been something about him that appealed. Some measure of self-confidence and brash self-awareness she knew she lacked.
In spite of the attraction she’d felt, her practical self had told her that Dean Moore was not the kind of man a good Christian girl wanted in her life.
And now?
She was hardly the sweet, innocent girl who’d left Saddlebank all those years back. Hardly walking with her Lord like she used to. She’d turned away from God nine months ago. When she’d found out she would be a single mother.
“So, you headed to the ranch?” Dean asked.
“Eventually. I thought I’d make a quick stop at the Grill and Chill.” Her mouth was even drier than before. Some soda or tea and a few moments to settle her nerves before seeing her sisters was just what she needed.
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you around.”
She held his gaze a beat longer, surprised at the twinge of attraction he still created. The usual battle of her head and heart, she thought. Drawn to the wrong kind of person.
Then a muffled cry from the car pulled her attention away from him and to her baby still tucked in her carrier in the backseat.
Erin opened the door and took a second to inhale the sweet scent of baby powder and Caitlin’s shampoo. With a gentle finger she stroked her baby’s tender cheek, still amazed at the rush of love this tiny infant could pull from her. Six weeks ago she’d come into Erin’s life and since then regardless of the exhaustion and confusion that dragged at her every day, Caitlin had been a bright spot in a life that had, of late, had some dark and hard valleys.
Erin grabbed the muslin blanket from beside her and laid it over top so her baby wouldn’t be exposed to the wind or the sun, then gently pulled the seat free, tucking her arm u
nder the handle and straightening.
Dean still stood there, frowning as if still trying to absorb the reality of her situation. His puzzlement grew as he glanced from the car seat hanging on her arm to her ringless left hand.
Yes, I am a single mother, she wanted to say, and no, this was not in my long-term plan when I left here that summer. After turning you down yet again.
Their gazes locked for a few heartbeats more as if acknowledging a shared past.
As she closed the door of the car he touched the brim of his hat in a surprisingly courtly gesture, then turned and left, his steps uneven, his one leg hitching with every movement.
She guessed this was from his rodeo accident almost a year back. Lauren had alluded to it in the texts they had exchanged the past few months.
Sadness winged through her. How much had changed for both of them since that summer, all those years ago.
She took a few steps almost getting bowled over by a young woman.
“Hey, Dean, wait up,” the woman called and while Erin watched she ran up to him, tucking her arm in his. She was slender, tall, her brown hair shining in the sunlight, her trim figure enhanced by a snug tank top and denim pants. “You coming to the dance on Friday night? I was hoping you’d save a waltz for me.” She slid a red-painted fingernail down his arm. Her head tipped to one side as she obviously flirted with him.
Erin recognized Kelly Sands, a girl a few years younger than both of them, daughter of a local, wealthy rancher. She remembered Kelly as a somewhat spoiled girl who loved a good time more than she loved the consequences of it.
“I doubt I’ll be going to any dance,” Erin heard Dean say, his voice gruff.
“Oh, c’mon. It will be fun. We can hang out. Like old times.”
Then for some reason Dean glanced back at her and Erin saw herself through his eyes.
Hair pulled up in a sloppy bun. T-shirt with a ketchup stain from when she held Caitlin while trying to wolf down a hot dog. Yoga pants worn for comfort and ease of movement and flip-flops for the same reason.
Amish Christmas Blessings: The Midwife's Christmas Surprise/A Christmas to Remember Page 17