Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading A Perfect Amish Romance! This series, which combines my love for libraries and the Amish, has been a dream of mine for quite some time, and I’m so grateful it has finally become a reality.
Do you remember your first visit to the library? My first library was made up of two double-wide trailers in the suburbs of Houston. It was a temporary building while a brand-new library was being built, and I thought it was the most magical place in the world. I especially loved how “my section” was in the second trailer, and my mom would let me stay there looking at books while she went to the adults’ section. It was cramped and hot (Houston in the summer, y’all!), and there were tons of picture books on shelves and in stacks on top of tables. It really was my favorite place in the world—especially after I found The Little Match Girl, the first book I found and checked out by myself.
Years later, I remember checking out stacks of Victoria Holt and Barbara Cartland romances and Agatha Christie mysteries in junior high and high school. I was the girl who had to count how many books I was holding so I wouldn’t exceed the checkout limit.
I guess you never know how something will make an impression on you. That first library inspired a love of reading that has never waned. Consequently, that love of reading encouraged me to write my first “Chapter 1” during a lunch break back when I was teaching elementary school. That moment led me down a whole new career path.
I hope you enjoy A Perfect Amish Romance as well as the rest of the books in the Berlin Bookmobile series. If you have time, write and tell me who inspired your love of books. I’d love to hear all about your story… after all, I think we might have a lot in common.
With blessings and my continued thanks,
Shelley Shepard Gray
Praise for New York Times bestselling author
Shelley Shepard Gray’s novels
THE BERLIN BOOKMOBILE SERIES
A PERFECT AMISH ROMANCE
“A book lover’s dream! In this charming series opener, Shelley Shepard Gray weaves a pair of sweet love stories, a likable inadvertent matchmaker, and a cast of quirky supporting characters into a story about the power of books to bring a community together. Fans of the genre as well as newcomers to Amish fiction are sure to make room for A Perfect Amish Romance on their keeper shelves.”
—Carla Laureano, RITA Award–winning author of Five Days in Skye and The Saturday Night Supper Club
“Shelley has another winner with A Perfect Amish Romance. I loved getting to know these well-written characters and reading about their romance and faith journeys. Shelley’s fans will be pleased with this sweet story, and without a doubt she will win over new readers, too!”
—Kathleen Fuller, bestselling author of The Innkeeper’s Bride
THE WALNUT CREEK SERIES
THE PATIENT ONE
“A pleasing story about recovering from grief and a solid beginning for a new series.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Gray tells a beautiful story of friendship, love, and truth born out of pain and grief. This story reminds us to hold those we love close.”
—Rachel Hauck, New York Times bestselling author of The Wedding Dress
“Gray has created an endearing cast of characters… that both delights and surprises—and kept me thinking about the story long after I turned the last page. Bravo!”
—Leslie Gould, #1 bestselling and Christy Award–winning author
“Like sunshine breaking through clouds… readers who love Amish stories and/or Christian fiction are sure to take pleasure in following the saga of this wonderful group of friends [who] learn to support each other and follow their hearts as they attempt to discern God’s will in their lives.”
—Fresh Fiction
THE PROTECTIVE ONE
“A slow-burning, enjoyable romance… Embedded in this quaint story is a poignant message about the importance of community, compassion, and doing what’s right rather than what’s easy.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Gray deftly weaves the threads of abuse, friendship, love, and faith into a thought-provoking, emotional story.”
—Patricia Davids, USA Today bestselling author of The Wish
“Filled with heartbreaking and uplifting moments, this love story stars Elizabeth Anne, or ‘E.A.,’ as she reevaluates her life… Now, E.A. must go on a heart-opening journey that may lead her to everything she’s been searching for.”
—Woman’s World
THE TRUSTWORTHY ONE
“Gray’s biblical themes are nuanced and well integrated into the narrative.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Hope is found in unexpected places as this sweet Amish love story unfolds.”
—Woman’s World
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For my mother, Barbara, and my daughter, Lesley. I’ve been blessed to share my love of books—and bookstores—with them.
Now Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.
—Hebrews 11:1
The trouble with reaching a crossroads in life is the lack of signposts.
—Amish proverb
prologue
“Well now, that’s it,” Ron Holiday said as he led the way out of the bookmobile. “Good luck to you. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”
Sarah Anne Miller froze in the doorway. “Wait. That’s it?”
He scratched his head. “Don’t think there’s anything more to say, Sarah Anne. You’ve got all the route information and times. What else would you need to know?”
“A lot more. A whole lot more.” This part-time job she’d signed up for on a lark was beginning to feel real. Really real and more than a bit foreboding.
Now that she was about to head out and service the literary needs of the whole community, she was starting to combat a whole army of worries and doubts. “Ron, I have no idea what to say to these people.”
“What do you mean, what to say? You give them the books they’ve requested and take their orders. You’ll help them get on the Internet, talk about books, maybe even let them look around for a spell.” He paused. “Smile. Chat. Some of our patrons are lonely, jah?”
Ron had grown up Amish. Now, even though he was Englisch enough to be wearing a pair of white leather tennis shoes, jeans, and a sweatshirt emblazoned with See Rock City across the front, he was as folksy as Mr. Rogers in his neighborhood. Sarah Anne had always found him to be mildly irritating, and right now she felt like he was being especially vague and unhelpful.
“Jah,” she echoed in a dry tone.
If Ron caught her sarcasm, he was polished enough not to let on. “There you go. That’s what you do.”
But it wasn’t that easy. People would no doubt have questions for her. Expectations. “Although I took a couple of online classes, you know I’m not actually a librarian, right?”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “To be sure, I haven’t forgotten that. But it seems to me that you don’t remember you’ve worked in a library before.”
“I volunteered.” She cleared her throat. “I volunteered in a brick-and-mortar building, Ron. There was a whole staff there to assist people. I was just there for support. There’s a difference between that and… t
his.” She gestured to the bookmobile.
“You volunteered a lot, though. A whole lot. Plus, you’ve received some very impressive recommendations. You’ll do fine.”
Even though he held out the key, Sarah Anne made no move to take it. “What if I miss someone? Or if can’t find some of my customers?” She lowered her voice as she at last voiced her greatest fear. “Ron, what if I let some of our customers down?”
He laughed. “You’re delivering books, not blood. You’re going to be just fine.” He jangled the key in front of him and motioned for her to lock the door. “Come on now. It must be thirty degrees out here, and the wind’s picking up.” He sniffed at the air. “I think we’re in for a bit of snow.”
She looked up at the sky but couldn’t see anything but a few fluffy clouds. How Ron was interpreting that as an approaching storm, she didn’t know. However, it was more than obvious that she’d just about used up the last of her new boss’s patience. Taking the key from him, she locked the door and turned back to Ron, but he was walking fast, as if the sidewalk was made of hot coals. She rushed to catch up with him.
She was almost out of breath by the time they entered the administration building for the whole library system. The sudden warmth against her skin felt almost uncomfortable. She pressed a hand on the wall to steady herself. It was time to get in better shape, that was a fact.
“I’ll check in with you in a week or so, Sarah Anne. Good luck tomorrow. I wish you God’s blessings, too.”
“Thank you, Ron.” As irritating as he was, she knew he was also sincere, so she softened her voice and added, “I am grateful for your belief in me.”
He waved her off. “No need for that. Now, don’t forget to have fun, Sarah Anne. There’s no reason to fret, I can promise you that. Just go out there and get to know our patrons. Remember, you’re providing them a valuable service. They’ll be pleased to see you. I’m sure of it. And when they’re pleased to see ya, they’ll forgive most anything.”
But Sarah Anne wasn’t used to getting things wrong. She’d demanded perfection from herself, and everyone else did, too. She’d just retired from her position as an accountant after putting in almost twenty-eight years on the eighth floor of a big firm. In that capacity, anything less than perfect wasn’t even an option.
“I know I’ll make mistakes.” And yes, she sounded frightened.
“No one expects perfection, Sarah Anne. Not even our Lord. Ain’t so?”
She nodded, though she was still worried. Even though the Lord might not expect perfection, she did.
After taking a deep breath, she smiled weakly. “I hope I’ll have a good report for you.”
“I’m sure you will.” Then, to her surprise, Ron chuckled softly. “After all, what could go wrong?” He strode down the gray-carpeted hallway before she had a chance to reply.
But perhaps that was a good thing. Driving a bookmobile along country roads by herself? Receiving orders, picking up books, taking care of all of the paperwork? She had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a matter of what could go wrong… but rather what in the world was going to go right?
one
SARAH ANNE MILLER’S BEST BOOKMOBILING RULES
(I’ve started this log in order to allow myself to see my professional growth and learn from my mistakes.)
• RULE #1 •
Make sure there’s enough gas in your bookmobile’s gas tank.
ONE YEAR LATER
It was the second Friday of the month, Aaron Coblentz’s favorite day. On this day, the bookmobile would park down in the empty lot near Zeiset’s Furniture Store for three hours. The librarian, a very friendly Englischer named Sarah Anne Miller, would greet everyone with a bright smile. Then, she’d lean up against her small circulation desk and trade gossip from around the county and ask everyone how their families and pets were. She was, more or less, their link to the outside world.
Most importantly, though, she’d check out the books everyone discovered and deliver any books that had been previously ordered. And she did it all in the most pleasing way.
Aaron was slightly amazed that Sarah Anne had such a knack for understanding what everyone needed from her. With some folks, she hardly talked at all. With others, she was a regular chatterbox. And with old Mr. Sol? Well, she practically yelled, since he was nearly deaf but vain about not wanting to wear a hearing aid.
Aaron figured all of those things were good qualities to have as a librarian. However, what he cared most about was that she never, ever commented on what people chose to read. He liked that Sarah Anne Miller could keep a secret.
In the year since she’d started coming around to his part of Holmes County, Aaron had never once heard Sarah Anne judge anyone for what they asked her to bring them—not even the English lady who always requested a stack of romances, each with a half-naked man on the cover.
Aaron didn’t care about any of that, though. As far as he was concerned, sixty-something-year-old Sarah Anne was an answer to his prayers. If she hadn’t brought the bookmobile out to his neck of the woods, he might never have the chance to do what he wanted.
And he wanted his GED.
It was taking some time, but if all went well, he would finish his coursework by June, right around his twenty-second birthday. All he had to do was keep his secret a little longer. Then he could put this quest behind him and finally get up the nerve to ask Mr. Dwight Zeiset, his boss at the furniture store, to give him a promotion.
Zeiset’s was the largest furniture store in town. Aaron delivered furniture and moved it all around in the warehouse, helped customers, entered information in Mr. Zeiset’s ledgers, and arranged stock a pleasing way. Mr. Zeiset said he was indispensable, and Aaron intended to stay that way.
Mr. Zeiset really valued education, and Aaron feared that if he didn’t have a GED, he was going to be overlooked. And he didn’t want that. After all, he had big goals. He hoped that one day, if he did a real good job, Mr. Zeiset, who was getting on in years, would ask him to be the manager of the whole store. That was a possibility, Aaron was sure of it.
Feeling pleased with himself, and almost optimistic about his future, Aaron gathered his notes, pencils, and the library books that were scattered all over his room and stuffed them into his army-green backpack.
“Aaron, how soon are you going?” his younger brother, Jack, called out from down the hall. As usual, he was in a dither.
Aaron looked at his pocket watch. “I don’t know. Ten minutes?”
“Can you make it fifteen? I can’t find one of my books.”
“Jah, sure. Fifteen minutes is fine.” Though, it would be a true miracle if Jack found what he was looking for by then.
Aaron peeked into Jack’s room, only to see his brother’s backside sticking out from under the bed. “Where’s Tiny?”
“Not here, though I’m starting to think she’s the only thing that’s not lurking under this bed.”
Aaron felt like cringing. Ever since their mother had stopped cleaning under Jack’s bed, the mess had gotten much, much worse. Now, Aaron reckoned, there were any number of crawling creatures living down there. “Any idea where she might be?”
“Jah, helping Mamm in the kitchen with Rebecca.”
“Okay, I’ll go see if she’s ready.” After throwing his backpack over his shoulders, Aaron headed down the old wooden stairs of their farmhouse, taking special care to avoid steps number three and six. Neither was in good shape. Their father always said he was going to fix them, but so far—like many things in the house—the repair had never happened. Aaron had an idea that his dawdi had often told his grandmother the same thing a time or two.
The noise coming from the kitchen grew louder with each step. Not only was the singing a surprise, but the voices were rather difficult on his eardrums, too. His mother couldn’t carry a tune if it was stuffed in her purse.
All three quieted when he entered.
“Hiya. Uh, what were you singing?”
“Mamm and me
are teaching Rebecca her ABCs,” Tiny said.
So far, he hadn’t heard a recognizable letter spout out of his baby sister’s mouth. “Sorry, but I don’t reckon it’s going too well.”
“It ain’t. But it could be going worse,” Tiny murmured. “I could be trying to get Mamm to sing in tune.”
“I heard that,” Mamm said from her perch in front of Rebecca’s booster chair. Glancing at Aaron, she straightened. “Well, my stars! You already have on your backpack.” She glanced at the beautiful cuckoo clock that her parents had given her and Daed on their wedding day. “Are you heading to the bookmobile already?”
“Jah. Hopefully, I’ll be on my way in fifteen minutes or so. Jack is searching for one of his books.”
Tiny smirked. “You might as well sit down and have a cup of kaffi. That could take all day.”
“It better not.” He only had ninety more minutes until Sarah Anne left the parking lot.
“Tiny isn’t wrong,” Mamm said. “Jack couldn’t find his head if it wasn’t attached so good. He’s going to be a while.”
“I don’t have time for that. Miss Miller is only going to be there for three hours today and she’s already been there half the time.”
“You need to calm down, bruder.” Tiny pointed to her neat stack of books. “I have Becca’s books in my tote bag. We’ll wait a bit, and if Jack doesn’t come down soon, we’ll go without him. And jah, before you ask. I’m ready. I’ve been ready.”
“That makes two of us, then.” After tossing his backpack on the floor, he flopped into the chair next to Rebecca. When the three-year-old grinned at him, he smiled back. “You’re getting smart today, Becca.”
“Jah!” She smiled.
Their mother wiped her hands on the apron she’d tied around the front of her dress. “She’s getting smarter, but she’s also making a real mess of me. I don’t know how this little thing always manages to get so much peanut butter off her graham crackers and onto her clothes. I don’t recall any of you being such messy eaters.”
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