“Anna?”
She gasped aloud. “Daniel?”
He stood and took her into his arms, embracing her hard. She closed her eyes, unable to speak.
“They kicked me out. You must have gotten my letter… in the dresser?” He held her away and brushed tears from her eyes. His own were shadowed with exhaustion.
“I did. You didn’t—”
“No, of course not. I wanted you to come away with me, but I wouldn’t have done it that way. It had to have been Mary. She developed some sort of fixation, a jealousy.” He stopped and shook his head.
“Do you have food and water?” She licked dry lips.
“Yes. Here. You look tired and thirsty.” He took out a canteen, and she slurped water. “Let’s sit for a moment.” He led her to the same spot he’d had under the tree, and they sank down.
She didn’t speak for a while as he gave her bread to eat.
“So, are you just running away, or were you running to me?” Daniel asked, gazing at her.
“Both.” She smiled, and he leaned in, kissing her long and deep.
“Daniel. What will it look like?” She sighed.
“You coming home with me? Just what it is. A woman who knows her mind — who’s in love with me and me with her. And that’s true, isn’t it?” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, spreading warmth through her body with his kiss.
“Yes, but is it true for you? The inheritance —”
“Means nothing to me. Not really. I do need to marry, but I don’t want anyone but you. Why do you think I came back? It wasn’t because I love the practices of your people.”
She winced.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Anna nodded and took a deep breath. “You didn’t. You’re right. Before you came, I thought about leaving. When you left the first time, I put those thoughts to rest. As it turns out, it happened anyway.” She smiled at him, and he took her hand.
“Let’s walk some more. A buggy is bound to come by. Someone will have mercy on us and take us at least part of the way. I wish I hadn’t gotten my friend to drop me off now when he passed by your community on business. If only I’d brought my own buggy, but my father’s was being repaired and he had need of it.” He shrugged and sighed.
“Ah, well. You couldn’t have known.”
His smile gave her hope that someone would pass by them on the road.
****
After two days and sporadic travel on two farmers’ carts, Anna walked around the last bend, her legs aching.
“Here we are. Plum Borough, my home and yours now.” Daniel’s voice was steady and full of pride.
Anna sank to the earth, moisture on her cheeks as she took in rolling green hills and trees with brown and red leaves in riot. Houses dotted the landscape as did farmers’ furrows, plows, and animals.
“It’s lovely, Daniel.”
“It is.” He took her hand and helped her up.
“Let’s go see your new home — after we get the good reverend to marry us, if he will on such short notice.” Daniel’s green eyes sparkled.
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, laughing as a flush spread over his face. “Let’s do, Mr. Greenleaf.” Anna squeezed his hand as they made their way down a hill and into a lush valley.
As the sun set against the horizon with tendrils of gold and peach, an angel hovered just above, or so Anna told her children later.
About the Author
Lorraine James—a pseudonym for gothic romance author Lisa Greer—writes sweet romance and has a soft spot for inspirational, historical romance. Find out more about her work at www.lisalgreer.com or Facebook: LorraineJames.
Also by Lisa Greer
Chapter One
Amity Frost sank down on the sofa. Every joint in her body screamed.
“Gram.” The word brought tears to her eyes. She could almost feel the woman’s presence there in the white two-story house with its more than a century old floors and walls. With green trim on the windows, it was a house to be envied as a pure and simple farmhouse of yesteryear.
Gram’s death had called Amity back to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, the place of her birth years ago but that she hadn’t seen but a handful of times since. Her parents had lived in Philadelphia, two professionals who wanted more than a slow existence in a place like this one, forgotten by time, though breathtaking in its way. She had been making her own way to professionalism as an editor for a small book publisher when George had flaked out.
Gram’s death came right after George’s “I don’t love you anymore after two years of dating. Can we be friends?” speech. She had said yes and left.
At twenty-five, Amity inherited an old house in good condition as well as money when Gram died in late May. She hadn’t needed much prompting to take a leave of absence from her job. She wanted to get her Gram’s affairs in order and get away from her disintegrating personal life. This place held the promise of all of that.
Her grandmother (or Gram, as she had always called her), Mary King, had parted ways with the Amish when she had married John Frost years before. In doing so, she had been shunned, but she and John had made a life together—he as a businessman and she as a homemaker. Amity had often mused that her grandmother’s choices hadn’t been so non-traditional for an Amish woman. The problem came with her choice of a man outside the community, Amity supposed, though she’d never heard the full story of Gram’s choice. Her own father didn’t seem to know and wasn’t interested. Amity thought her gram had loved her grandpap. Theirs had been a stable relationship of quiet respect and loving gestures until his death ten years previous.
Amity took in her surroundings. Amish furniture rested in every corner. The solid wooden pieces were hard to improve upon, and Gram had obviously loved them if the sheer number meant anything. Amity got up, stretching after a couple long days of cleaning and sorting through Gram’s effects. She had taken a big load of clothes to the Goodwill store yesterday, but she still had more to do today.
The sound of a horse and buggy clanking down the drive startled her. It was such a foreign sound to a city girl, but she had heard it a few times since arriving here and remembered it from her childhood and teen visits. That would be the milkman. Amity’s heart did a slow turn in her chest. She had seen him on her first day here, and he came twice a week from what Gram’s lawyer had told her. It was up to her whether she continued the service. She saw no reason not to, especially not after getting a look at the milkman.
She grinned, pushing the thought aside. The last thing she needed to do was get involved with the Amish. She wasn’t exactly a bastion of traditional morals, though she was thinking more lately that maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get back to some of the ones Gram and others had taught her.
The heat of the day hit her as she opened the screen door. The man walked up to the door, his eyes averted from her face. His height compared with some of the tallest men she had seen, but he wasn’t too thin. Strawberry blond curls spilled out from under his hat, and his sharply planed face—just this close to being too thin—reminded her of a movie star that she couldn’t place. The straw hat surprised her. She thought all Amish men wore black ones.
“Your milk, miss.” His accent was a strange mix of German and English.
“Thank you. May I ask your name since I’m going to be seeing you often? It seems rude not to.” She smiled at him and enjoyed the ghost of a smile that passed over his full lips.
Amity took the cool, glass bottle in her hand, noticing that the milkman’s eyes were the color of dew-drenched grass.
“David Fisher, miss. Thank you.” His horses snorted as he called out to them and turned away.
“I’m Amity, in case you were wondering. Amity Frost.” He inclined his head, but didn’t turn back to face her.
“Nice to meet you, miss.” He walked back to his buggy, and she enjoyed the view of his strong shoulders and gleaming hair.
Amity leaned against the door
and sighed. Too bad he’s in a group that doesn’t use electricity or single women’s first names. She giggled and took the milk inside, putting it into the refrigerator.
The day passed in a blur of more sorting through old clothes and other odds and ends. Gram had no lack of stuff. Glass unicorns had been her love, and Amity dusted off the collection, tears pooling in her eyes as late afternoon sun slanted through the living room, spilling onto the hardwood floor until it and the unicorns in their case blazed.
After a quick dinner and a hot bath in the old claw foot tub, Amity was ready for bed. Every muscle in her body ached, but the work had been enjoyable and had kept her mind off of George. His laughter when she told him where she would be spending her summer still echoed in her ears. Why should it bother her? He’d already decided she was a castoff by that point.
Frowning, she climbed the simple staircase to the second floor and the bedroom she had chosen. It wasn’t Gram’s old room. She couldn’t bring herself to use that one. This room was one she had stayed in a few times, with light peach walls and tan carpet. Everything about it was cool and comforting.
She climbed into bed, the quiet night enveloping her. The nights here seemed too still after city life, but so far, she’d slept well each night.
Darkness settled around her, and she drifted into sleep. She woke up sometime later, confused. Crying assaulted her ears, not the cries of an adult, but those of a young child or perhaps even a baby.
What baby? Maybe it’s a neighbor’s child.
But she knew better. No neighbors lived within a quarter of a mile from this house set off the highway. Besides, there was something about the sound. It made her skin crawl.
The wailing crescendoed and then stilled to a whimper. Shivering in the heat of the night, Amity pulled the comforter over her head and lay still until sleep finally claimed her again.
****
Amity woke up late the next morning, still sore from her exertions of the previous day. She wanted to get out of the house and thought the Amish store up the road might be just the thing. The thought of the wailing she’d heard the night before made her shudder.
What on earth was that?
She got ready, choosing a conservative red cotton dress that hit her at ankle length. She didn’t want to scandalize any Amish today. Amity frowned in the vanity mirror, a feature of this room she had always liked with its table and silver gilt brush, comb, and boxes. Freckles sprinkled her nose and cheeks, and her fair skin was flushed pink from so much sun. Short, cropped dark hair stuck out at angles from her head, refusing to do as she willed.
At least it’s short. It could be long and stringy.
She put on a coat of red lip gloss and some mascara, giving up on the cause of beautification for the morning.
The sunlight and rustling green of the fields around her wrapped her up in happiness and calm when she stepped out of the house. The crying of the night before seemed all too real. She enjoyed the short drive to the store, passing cars and horse drawn carriages. The pace of life was slower here. It had to be in a place that had buggies on the road.
The cheerful store boasted all kinds of homemade pies, jams, and jellies, as well as furniture for sale and for order. Amity browsed, losing herself in the choices at hand. When she finally collected the goods she wanted, the woman at the counter wearing a white head covering and a plain blue dress smiled with one side of her mouth.
“I guess you’re Miss Amity.”
“I am.” Amity placed her items on the counter, happy to have someone new to talk to. She realized she had been a bit lonely the past few days. An introvert by nature, she still needed human contact on a regular basis in a meaningful way. She wasn’t sure talking to the Amish milkman cut it.
“How did you know?” She smiled at the woman, but curiosity rose inside her.
“Everybody knows about the house being for sale.” The woman smiled, but there was something behind her eyes that belied that smile.
“I see.” Amity cleared her throat, feeling awkward as the woman totaled her purchases with pen and notebook.
An old man with a long white beard wore plain clothes tottered out from a door behind the sales clerk.
“Ah, there you are, miss. I’ve been hearing a lot about you.” He smiled at Amity, and she liked him right away.
“Horace, can you help me with the orders in back?” The woman’s voice rang out with a shrill note, and she turned a glare on the man.
“Just a minute, Tabitha.” The man frowned at her and continued shuffling toward Amity. He put his hands on the counter, staring at her with unflinching brown eyes.
He must have been handsome in his day.
“It’s so good to see you, child. I knew your grandmother.”
Astraea Press
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A Forbidden Union Page 6