by Laura Hilton
What Others Are Saying…
Read A Harvest of Hearts and fall in love with these characters as they work to meld two strong desires into one.
—Diana Lesire Brandmeyer
Author, Wyoming Weddings, Hearts on the Road, We’re Not Blended, We’re Pureed, and A Bride’s Dilemma in Friendship, Tennessee
A Harvest of Hearts is an edgy Amish story without compromising the traditions of the Amish. You will not want to miss this book!
—Cindy Loven
Book reviewer, cindylovenreviews.blogspot.com
Laura V. Hilton has a winner in her second installment of The Amish of Seymour series. A Harvest of Hearts is a tender story with all of the elements necessary to keep you turning the pages: a pretty, plucky heroine in Shanna and a handsome, patient, true-to-the-faith suitor in Matthew. Together, they learn lessons in love, life, sacrifice, faith, and family. This book will involve you from the start with well-written prose, humor, and sweet, romantic moments.
—JoAnn Durgin
Author, Awakening
Laura Hilton weaves a delightful tale that encourages readers not to give up on their hearts’ desires.
—Susette Williams
Author, New Garden’s Conversion (appears in the anthology The Quakers of New Garden)
Another Amish fiction by Laura V. Hilton that I truly love! I recommend this book to all Amish fiction fans and to anyone who just wants a great read.
—Joy Hannabass, Book reviewer
A Harvest of Hearts leads readers to the hope of where home really is with its strong and touching themes of forgiveness and second chances. Another winner from up-and-coming author Laura V. Hilton!
—Penny Zeller
Author, the Montana Skies series (McKenzie, Kaydie, and Hailee)
Publisher’s Note:
This novel is a work of fiction. References to real events, organizations, or places are used in a fictional context. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.
A HARVEST OF HEARTS
The Amish of Seymour ~ Book Two
Laura V. Hilton
ISBN: 978-1-60374-256-6
Printed in the United States of America
© 2011 by Laura V. Hilton
Whitaker House
1030 Hunt Valley Circle
New Kensington, PA 15068
www.whitakerhouse.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hilton, Laura V., 1963–
A harvest of hearts / by Laura V. Hilton.
p. cm. — (The Amish of Seymour series ; bk. 2)
Summary: “Shanna Stoltzfus thought she’d turned her back on the Amish for good, but handsome newcomer Matthew Yoder forces her to reconsider where her home and heart lie”—Provided by publisher.
ISBN 978-1-60374-256-6 (trade pbk.)
1. Homecoming—Fiction. 2. Self-actualization (Psychology)—Fiction. 3. Man woman relationships—Fiction. 4. Amish—Fiction
5. Seymour (Mo.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3608.I4665H37 2011
813'.6—dc22
2011025928
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical—including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system—without permission in writing from the publisher. Please direct your inquiries to [email protected].
Acknowledgments
I’d like to offer my heartfelt thanks to the following:
The Swartz family, for allowing me a look at the inside of an Amish home and the outside layout of their farm. And for giving me a taste of their homemade jams and jellies.
Susanne Woods Fisher, for contacting her sources to settle a few questions to which I couldn’t find the answers.
The residents of Seymour, for answering my questions and pointing me in the right directions.
The Ozark Folk Center in Mountain View, Arkansas—specifically, Scott Reidy—for giving me a crash course in blacksmithing.
The amazing team at Whitaker House—Christine, Courtney, and Cathy. You are wonderful.
My agent, for believing in me all these years.
To my critique group—you know who you are. You are amazing and knew how to ask the right questions when more detail was needed. Also, thanks for the encouragement.
To my husband, Steve, for being a tireless proofreader and cheering section, and my sons, Michael and Loundy, for taking over the kitchen duties when I was deep in the story.
Dedicated to:
Steve, my best friend,
Loundy, my favorite song,
Michael, my adventurous one,
Kristin, my precious daughter,
Jenna, my sunshine,
Kaeli, my shower of blessing,
And God, who has blessed me with these.
In loving memory of Allan and Janice Price, my parents; my grandmother, Mertie; and my uncle Loundy, each of whom has blessed me with some knowledge of our Pennsylvania Dutch ancestors.
Also, to Tamela, my agent, for not letting me give up and for giving sage advice.
Glossary of Amish Terms and Phrases
ach—oh
aent—aunt
“Ain’t so?—”a phrase commonly used at the end of a sentence to invite agreement
Ausbund—Amish hymnal used in worship services. Includes lyrics only.
bitte—you’re welcome
boppli—baby or babies
bu—boy
buwe—boys
daed—dad
danki—thank you
dawdi-haus—a home built for grandparents to live in once they retire
Englischer—a non-Amish person
frau—wife
grossdaedi—grandfather
grossmammi—grandmother
gut—good
gut nacht—good night
haus—house
hinnersich—backward
“Ich liebe dich”—“I love you”
jah—yes
kapp—prayer covering or cap
kinner—children
kum—come
maidal—an unmarried woman
mamm—mom
naerfich—nervous
nein—no
onkel—uncle
Ordnung—the rules by which an Amish community lives
rumschpringe—“running around time,” a period of adolescence after which Amish teens choose either to be baptized in the Amish church or to leave the community
ser gut—very good
verboden—forbidden
“Was ist letz?”—“What’s the matter?”
welkum—welcome
wunderbaar—wonderful
Chapter 1
Shanna Stoltzfus felt something brush against her hair, just above her left ear. She swatted at it. When she touched flesh, she jumped, her attempts to pray forgotten, and raised her head from the steering wheel to see maple-stained fingers, complete with calluses and a small cut.
The hand pulled back. “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?” a deep voice asked.
She looked up into incredible gray eyes belonging to a drop-dead-gorgeous Amish man. He grasped his straw hat in the long fingers of his right hand. His light brown hair shone with natural blond highlights. She’d paid big bucks for streaks like those. He also had a strong, clean-shaven jaw. Nice. Too bad he hadn’t been around when she’d been Amish. She definitely would have noticed a hunk like this. Might even have considered staying.
“Lost, maybe? I can direct you back to the main road. Where did you want to go?”
“Anyplace but here. Mexico sounds good.
” She swallowed her trepidation and aimed what she hoped was a wry smile at him. When she reached for the door handle, he stepped out of the way. “You must be the houseguest Mamm mentioned in her letters. Matthew Yoder from Pennsylvania?” She swung her legs out of the car and extended a hand. “I’m Shanna.”
“Shanna.” He seemed to freeze. A little smile played on his lips. “Shanna,” he repeated.
She didn’t know quite what to think. He said her name as if it meant something special. Then, he blinked. “I’m Matthew, jah.”
He held out his hand, but before his hand could touch hers, she fixed her gaze on his brown fingers. He hesitated and then rubbed his hands together, as if to check to see if the stain was still damp. Then, he pulled back. “Shanna.”
His tongue seemed to trip over her name this time. Or maybe he’d heard some negative things about her. Her stomach churned. She shouldn’t be here. But where else could she go?
“I guess they are expecting you?”
“Nein. Not really.” Shanna stood and looked up at him. The top of her head barely reached his jaw.
His gaze skimmed over her. She wondered what he thought as he studied her faded jeans, T-shirt, and flip-flops. She looked down at her toenails. Good, they were painted with pink polish. Except that the paint on one of her big toes had a huge chip in it. She wished she could reach for the bottle and repair the damage. As his gaze traveled back up, she repressed the urge to smooth her hair. It wouldn’t have done much good, anyway. She’d driven the whole way with the windows down, so it would be hopelessly tangled.
His forehead wrinkled, and there was no hint of recognition in his eyes when they returned to her face.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
Matthew raised his eyebrows and his gaze met hers. “Nein. Should I?”
Unexpected pain shot through her. Daed had made good on his threat to reject her. “Figures. He probably forbade everybody to say my name. I’m surprised he allowed Mamm to write. Or maybe he doesn’t know.”
Confusion flashed across Matthew’s face. “So, you think your mamm lives here, and she isn’t expecting you?” He shook his head, his lips curling into a sympathetic half smile. “This is the home of Levi and Deborah—”
“Stoltzfus. Jah, I know. I’m their oldest daughter.”
Matthew’s smile slipped, and he blinked, cutting off her view of those gray eyes for a brief moment.
“You know, you have beautiful eyes.” She stepped closer, then turned to shut the car door. “My things are in the back. But I guess maybe we should leave them there until we find out if I’m allowed to stay. Mamm said I would be welkum, but Daed has the final say, you know.” She bit her lip and tried to force her fear of the imminent confrontation out of her mind. It didn’t work. And since her little brothers and sisters hadn’t gathered around to welcome her, she wondered if her family was even home. She looked around for the buggy, or some sign of life other than the handsome Matthew. She didn’t notice any.
“Jah. Probably should wait.” He blinked again when she turned to face him.
“Well, shall we?” She walked past him, around the front of the car, and toward the porch. At the top step, she hesitated and glanced back. Matthew stood where she’d left him, watching her. He didn’t even try to hide it by looking away. A shiver worked through her, but she ignored it. He’d probably never met anyone like her before. Daed always said she was too outspoken. She sighed. “I guess I should ask. Where is Daed?”
He motioned behind him. “In the shop.”
“Great.” Postponing her reunion with him would at least give her time to see Mamm and her little sisters before she was kicked off the property.
If that happened, Shanna hoped this gorgeous Amish man wouldn’t witness her humiliation. She felt ashamed enough of her modern clothes, now subject to his intense gaze. She was so underdressed, she might as well have shown up at a formal event wearing boxer shorts and a paint-spattered T-shirt.
Did Mamm still keep her Amish clothes hanging in her bedroom closet?
She scowled and turned toward the house. It would take more than a good-looking man to get her to change into Amish clothes. She hadn’t been able to wait to leave the Amish life behind, and she wasn’t about to return to it.
Well, she would stay for the summer, if permitted. But no longer than that.
And if Daed wouldn’t let her? She’d deal with that when the time came.
***
Matthew stared at the front door, through which the green-eyed beauty had disappeared after only the briefest look back, as if checking to see if he followed her. And he probably would have, if his feet hadn’t felt rooted to the ground.
He mused over their brief conversation and allowed a smile to play on his lips as he grappled with the sense that he’d glimpsed into his future.
“Shanna,” he whispered her name again.
He hadn’t meant to touch her hair. He’d noticed the open window, and he’d simply reached in to touch her shoulder. But she’d moved, and instead of the gentle tap he’d intended, his knuckles had buried themselves in her soft, golden tresses.
Inappropriate.
Even worse, he hadn’t wanted to pull back.
Matthew swallowed, lifted his legs to see if they would still move, and turned toward the shop. He couldn’t remember what he’d needed to go to the house for, anyway. No point in looking like a bigger fool in front of her.
When he pushed the shop door open, Levi looked up from where he stood, hunched over and sanding a wooden chair. “Did you get the key?”
Matthew shook his head. “I forgot what you sent me for.” Ach, this was worse, having to admit to his mindlessness. Heat rose up his neck. “Um, there’s a girl…your daughter. She was in her car. Said something about staying.”
A look of hope flashed across Levi’s face. His shoulders straightened, and a bright smile lit his face and eyes. He put down the sandpaper and moved toward the door, then stopped, his shoulders slumping. “Probably not for long.”
Matthew couldn’t quite read any of the other emotions that flashed across the older man’s face.
“Is she shunned?” Matthew asked hesitantly.
Levi shook his head. “Nein, not formally. But I’d hoped denying her a place in the family would bring her back home.” His expression hardened. “And maybe it would have. But my frau….”
He didn’t need to say more. Matthew nodded in agreement. Shanna had mentioned letters in which her mamm had said she’d be welcome. Deborah must have gone behind Levi’s back and kept in contact with her daughter.
It was none of his business, but he decided to ask, anyway. “Will you allow her to stay?”
He hoped Levi would say “Jah,” the fascinating creature could stay. But another part of him wanted a decidedly firm “Nein.” He hadn’t been around her more than five minutes, and already she’d messed with his insides.
“I don’t know.” Levi scratched his head. “I’ll have to think on it.”
Matthew chuckled. “Maybe in the barn loft.”
Levi’s mouth curved up in a grin. “Might be best.”
“I’m teasing.” Matthew moved toward the door. “I’ll go get the key you wanted. Sorry I forgot it earlier.”
“Jah.” Levi picked up the sandpaper and went back to work. “And I’ll think on it. Gives her a few more minutes with her mamm, anyway, in case I decide not to let her stay.”
***
After hugging Shanna, Mamm resumed peeling apples at the counter, where a recipe for apple turnovers was propped against the flour canister. Shanna picked up a knife to help with the paring, as she had countless times before. Mamm chatted nonstop, talking about Shanna’s sisters, who were at friends’ houses today, and about the garden. Not one mention had been made about whether she was permitted to stay. A piece of apple skin dangled from the peeler, ever lengthening as Mamm worked the apple around and around. It had always been a challenge for Shanna to try to pare the entire appl
e without breaking the strip, like Mamm did.
She’d never succeeded.
Yet another sign of failure. Another reason why she’d never be an Amish frau.
That, combined with the old-fashioned clothes and her intense dislike of the wringer washer. She’d hated that thing ever since getting her hair stuck in it as a young girl. She had always been afraid that the contraption would pull her whole head through the rollers, try to press it flat, as it did the garments, and leave it abnormally shaped.