An Unexpected Amish Harvest

by Carrie Lighte

  “I’m sorry about what I said, Susannah.

  “It just slipped out,” Peter murmured quietly.

  “It’s okay. Sometimes I say things without really thinking them through.”

  It felt strange to be sitting with Susannah, with no one else on the other side of the table or in the room. It reminded Peter of when they’d sit by the creek in the summer, dangling their feet into the water and chatting. And instead of pushing the romantic memory from his mind, Peter deliberately indulged in it as he lingered over his pie.

  Susannah didn’t seem in any hurry to get up, either. “How is your mamm?”

  “She’s okay,” Peter said. He abruptly stood. “I’d better get going or your grossdaddi won’t let me take any more lunch breaks after this.”

  Susannah replied, “Don’t worry, my step-grandmother would never let that happen.” She caught Peter’s eye. “And neither would I.”

  Peter was overcome with affection. “Denki,” he said and then forced himself to leave the house while his legs could still carry him.

  Carrie Lighte lives in Massachusetts next door to a Mennonite farming family, and she frequently spots deer, foxes, fisher cats, coyotes and turkeys in her backyard. Having enjoyed traveling to several Amish communities in the eastern United States, she looks forward to visiting settlements in the western states and in Canada. When she’s not reading, writing or researching, Carrie likes to hike, kayak, bake and play word games.

  Books by Carrie Lighte

  Love Inspired

  The Amish of New Hope

  Hiding Her Amish Secret

  An Unexpected Amish Harvest

  Amish of Serenity Ridge

  Courting the Amish Nanny

  The Amish Nurse’s Suitor

  Her Amish Suitor’s Secret

  The Amish Widow’s Christmas Hope

  Amish Country Courtships

  Amish Triplets for Christmas

  Anna’s Forgotten Fiancé

  An Amish Holiday Wedding

  Minding the Amish Baby

  Her New Amish Family

  Her Amish Holiday Suitor

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  AN UNEXPECTED AMISH HARVEST

  Carrie Lighte

  But he answered and said, It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.

  —Matthew 4:4

  To my faithful readers, with much gratitude

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from The Cowboy’s Amish Haven by Pamela Desmond Wright

  Chapter One

  “You’re so thin!” Susannah Peachy’s stepgrandmother, Lydia, exclaimed as they embraced each other. “I hardly recognize you.”

  It had been nine months since twenty-three-year-old Susannah had visited the small but growing Amish district in New Hope, Maine. At that time, she’d weighed about forty or forty-five pounds more than she did now, so her figure had been much rounder. Her face had been fuller, too. But she still had the same caramel-brown eyes, long, straight nose and thick brunette hair that was so curly that not even pulling it back into a bun could tame it. By the day’s end, it always seemed to fluff up from her scalp, lifting her prayer kapp and making her appear slightly taller than she had in the morning. So it was a bit of an exaggeration for Lydia to say she hardly recognized Susannah, although she supposed it was a surprise for the older woman to see her so much thinner.

  “I might look a bit different but I’m still the same person I was before,” Susannah assured her. “Being thinner doesn’t make me any different on the inside. Kind of like wearing that cast on your arm doesn’t make you any different.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Having this cast on my arm makes me a lot grumpier,” Lydia confessed. “Not because I’m in pain, but because I want to accomplish more than I’m able to, which frustrates me. I feel so restless. When I get into that kind of mood, I have to stop and remind myself how blessed I am that I only fractured my wrist when I fell. I could have broken a hip! So I have nothing to complain about—especially since you’ve kumme to help me.”

  Susannah suspected there were a number of young women in New Hope who could have assisted her maternal grandfather’s wife, but clearly Lydia preferred Susannah’s company. Her grandfather, Marshall Sommer, had always doted on his only granddaughter, too. And, of course, Susannah loved them both very much, as well. But if she’d had her way she wouldn’t have come to visit her grandparents in Maine. Instead, they would have returned to Dover, Delaware, to visit Susannah and her father, along with her brother and his family.

  However, when Lydia broke her wrist and asked Susannah to come and keep house and cook for the farm crew during harvest season, she couldn’t say no. It would have been unthinkable to refuse to help a family member in need, especially since her grandparents were getting up there in age. Only the Lord knew how many more opportunities Susannah would have to spend time with them.

  Besides, it wasn’t as if she was going to be overwhelmed with work. The crew consisted of only four men; two were local and the other two were Lydia’s fourteen-year-old twin great-nephews, Conrad and Jacob, who were coming from Ohio. Which meant Susannah would actually be cooking and keeping house for fewer people here than she usually helped her sister-in-law cook for back in Delaware. So in a way, coming to her grandparents’ farm might feel like a holiday visit by comparison. Especially since Susannah shared her grandparents’ fondness for Maine.

  Yet she was already counting the days until she could go home. Today was Friday and the crew was scheduled to begin harvesting on Monday. They’d spend three or four weeks picking potatoes, depending on how often it rained during that time. That meant at a minimum, she’d see her former suitor, Peter Lambright, at least two or three times in church, which met every other week. But as far as she was concerned, that was two or three times too many.

  “You must be hungerich after being on the road since the wee hours of the morning,” Lydia said, interrupting her thoughts. “I made a peanut-butter pie. I had to hide it in the fridge behind the lettuce so your groossdaadi wouldn’t see it and ask me for a piece before you arrived. Let’s have a slice with tea before supper. You can fill me in on all the news from Dover.”

  Susannah hesitated. “Denki, but I’m not hungerich. I’ll wait until supper to eat, but I’ll have tea with you.”

  Lydia lowered her silver, wire-framed glasses and peered at Susannah. “But I thought peanut-butter pie was your favorite? That’s why I made it. It might be a little lumpy because I had to mix it using my left hand, but I think you’ll still enjoy it.”

  Susannah didn’t want to explain that she’d gotten into the habit of only eating dessert once a week. Usually she ate it following a light meal, not in the late afternoon before she’d even had her supper. But she appreciated how much time and effort it must have taken for Lydia to make the pie with one arm in a cast. She figured this one time she could indulge in a taste...especially since she was serving it, so she could cut herself a little piece. “Your pie is always appenditlich and it was thoughtful of you to make it for me. I guess a smidgen w
ouldn’t spoil my supper,” she said. “If you go sit in the living room, I’ll be right in with it.”

  After putting the kettle on the gas stove, Susannah removed the pie from behind the lettuce on the bottom shelf of the diesel-powered refrigerator. As soon as she saw the white creamy custard topped with a crumbly peanut-butter-and-powdered-sugar mixture, her mouth watered.

  She set it on the countertop, remembering when she’d spent the summer in New Hope a year ago, Lydia would make a peanut-butter pie at least once a week because she knew it was Susannah’s favorite. Lydia didn’t like the pie nearly as much as Susannah and Marshall did, so the two of them would more or less split it over the course of a couple of days. The only other person who could make such a delicious peanut-butter pie was Susannah’s mother, who had died four years ago.

  Mamm didn’t take very gut care of her health, she thought sadly. Neither had her father. That’s why last winter Susannah had changed their diet. Her father was overweight, too, and he’d briefly been hospitalized for complications from his diabetes. The Englisch doctor indicated if he didn’t get his blood sugar under control, he could suffer kidney, nerve or eye damage, or cardiovascular problems.

  At first, Susannah’s efforts to help improve his health were met with resistance. Surprisingly, the pushback didn’t come from her father; it came from her sister-in-law, Charity, who had remarked, “How can bread be unhealthy when I make it myself? It’s not as if it’s store-bought and full of preservatives. And the Lord made corn and potatoes, so they must be gut for us.”

  Susannah had shared what she’d learned about eating whole grains, nonstarchy vegetables and protein, as well as “good” fats and dairy. And all of it in moderation. But Charity continued to turn up her nose at the dishes Susannah prepared until she saw how the pounds seemed to slide right off her and her father’s blood-sugar readings stabilized. Then Charity helped Susannah peruse cookbooks from the library for healthier meal ideas and recipes, too.

  “I’m hallich to be losing weight because now I have more energy,” Susannah had told her. “But I’m especially hallich that the dokder said if Daed keeps these habits up, he might be able to stop taking his medication.”

  Still, there were a few members of her church district who were worried about Susannah’s weight loss. She’d been mildly overweight for most of her life, so some people initially assumed she was ill. Others expressed concern that she was focusing too much on external appearances, or was becoming hochmut. High-minded. Proud. Not merely about how slender she had become, but also about the knowledge she had gained, even though she never flaunted her weight loss or offered nutritional advice unless someone asked her for it. However, after the novelty wore off, they became accustomed to how she looked and what she ate or didn’t eat for lunch after church or during other community events. And eventually they stopped making comments, much to Susannah’s relief.

  But it seemed she’d have to get used to hearing similar comments all over again, because as they were enjoying their sweet treat, Lydia remarked, “Wait until Dorcas sees you. She’s going to be astonished at how gut you look.”

  Susannah pushed a big forkful of pie into her mouth so she wouldn’t respond brusquely. Ideally, Amish people didn’t place an undue importance on superficial appearances, which was the very reason some had been critical of her when she first started slimming down. Yet she frequently noticed that even though she was discouraged from focusing on her weight, other people had no qualms about drawing attention to it. Regardless of whether their comments were positive or negative, the fact that they made more than just a passing remark about it seemed hypocritical to her.

  She attempted to redirect the conversation, as she’d become adept at doing. “I’m really looking forward to catching up with Dorcas in person again. Although we probably won’t spend too much time together, since she’ll be working at Millers’ restaurant.”

  When Susannah stayed in New Hope last summer, she had quickly formed a close friendship with Dorcas Troyer. The two young, single women had enjoyed each other’s company again when Susannah returned to New Hope for a week at Christmastime, and they’d written to each other frequently throughout the last year.

  In fact, Dorcas was the only person that Susannah had confided in when Peter asked to be her suitor the previous summer...and the only person Susannah had told about their breakup last January. She still remembered teardrops splashing onto the stationery as she wrote,

  Peter wouldn’t give me any reason for ending our courtship, other than to say he doesn’t think we’re compatible, after all. But I know it’s because I’ve gained so much weight since last summer.

  Her friend had written back,

  I’ve known Peter for years and I can’t believe your weight is such an issue for him. Are you sure that’s why he broke up with you? Could it be that he just finds it too difficult to carry on a long-distance courtship?

  Susannah highly doubted that. After she’d left New Hope the first time, Peter’s biweekly letters had been filled with proclamations of his affection for her. The couple had called each other at their respective phone shanties at three o’clock every other Sunday. Even after two hours of talking, they’d never run out of things to share and laugh about. And although they had only been able to sneak off for an hour with each other when Susannah came to New Hope last Christmas, they’d agreed their time alone together was the best part of the holiday.

  That’s why it was so confusing that four days after she got home, Peter called and said he had decided to end their courtship. The change in his attitude was so abrupt it made Susannah feel as if he was an utter stranger. As if someone else had been pretending to be him on the phone and in his letters. Had been pretending to fall in love with her the way she’d been falling in love with him.

  “Why?” she had cried, as bewildered as she was devastated. “I don’t understand.”

  “We’re just not a gut match.”

  “But why aren’t we a gut match? What has changed all of a sudden?”

  “I’m sorry to hurt your feelings like this, Susannah, but I don’t want to discuss it further. Please accept my decision.”

  Afterward, she went over it and over it in her mind, trying to figure out what could have possibly changed to make Peter end their relationship. The only thing she could come up with was that once he’d seen her again, he was no longer drawn to her because of how much heavier she’d gotten. Maybe that was why he’d held his tongue about his reason; he hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings by telling her the truth. But whether he said it aloud or not, she’d been crushed to discover that Peter valued how she looked more than who she was. That he was rejecting her because of her weight gain.

  Likewise, in the following months she was disappointed when certain other men accepted her because of her appearance. During the past spring and summer, she’d had no fewer than four bachelors in Dover ask to court her. Susannah would have felt honored, if it hadn’t been for the fact that they’d all known her for at least ten years and they’d never expressed an interest in her until she was slender. So it insulted her and reflected poorly on their priorities when they’d asked to walk out with her once she was thin.

  Nor did she consider it a compliment just now when Lydia suggested, “Hopefully you and Dorcas will have a chance to go to a singing together. You look so pretty that I wouldn’t be surprised if half a dozen young men ask to be your long-distance suitor before you return to Delaware.”

  If they did, I’d say no, Susannah thought. If there was one thing she had learned about men this past year, it was that their feelings for her fluctuated along with the needle on the bathroom scale. And she’d rather be single than be loved for her appearance.

  Just thinking and talking about suitors and courtships made Susannah anxious and she again avoided responding to Lydia’s comment. “Denki for making the pie for me. It was appenditlich,” she said.


  “You’re welcome, dear. But you hardly had a sliver. Are you sure you don’t want another slice?”

  Susannah glanced down at her empty plate and suddenly she felt rather empty inside, too. “I suppose a little more wouldn’t hurt. Just this once.”

  * * *

  After Peter Lambright helped his brother, Hannes, load the picnic table into the Englischer’s truck, Hannes closed the tailgate.

  “Wait a second—we haven’t loaded the benches,” Peter reminded him.

  Hannes chuckled and reopened the gate. “I’m so used to making A-frame tables, I forgot the benches weren’t attached to this one.”

  Peter waited until they’d put the benches in the truck and the customer drove away, then said, “You’ve got to pay closer attention to what you’re doing, Hannes. If you can’t be trusted to remember something as basic as giving the customer the furniture he paid for—”

  He clapped his hand against his cheek. “Oh, neh—I forgot to collect payment from him.”

  “Hannes! You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Jah.” He grinned. “Collecting payment is the first thing I do.”

  Peter wasn’t in the mood for his brother’s shenanigans. “Quit horsing around. I need to know I can count on you this next month.”

  Hannes’s grin melted and he replied solemnly, “Of course you can count on me.”

  “Gut. Then get back to work. I’m going over to the haus to check on Mamm and then I’m going to pick up Eva from schul.”

  Peter began walking toward the house, which was located a couple of acres east of the workshop. Twelve years ago, when the Lambrights had moved from Illinois to New Hope, his father had deliberately built the workshop as far from the house as possible. He was starting up a business—making picnic tables, porch swings and other wooden lawn furniture—and he didn’t want customers driving too close to his children.

  Their father had always been overly cautious around Englisch vehicles. That’s why it still baffled Peter that one fall evening five years ago, his father apparently had forgotten to light the required lantern that hung from the side of the carriage. Or else the flame had gone out. Either way, the man driving a lumber truck behind him hadn’t seen the buggy until it was too late to stop and he collided with the carriage, killing Peter’s father.