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Dear Reader,
I often hear veteran Love Inspired Books authors talk about the “pioneer days” in the late ’90s, when the line first started. There were some growing pains and struggles to be accepted as Christian fiction in the mainstream market, but no one envisioned the amazing popularity of this type of book with the general public.
But readers were hungry for a story of love in a faith-filled setting, where the romance was not watered down, but still left plenty to the imagination in a time when most mass-market romances pushed the limits of propriety further and further.
I was honored when my editor asked me to be part of the debut of the Love Inspired Historical line. Even though I had published some longer novels under Steeple Hill Books, with my first Love Inspired title, Hearts in the Highlands, I was able to join the ranks of Love Inspired Books authors, a great bunch of talented and resourceful women from all parts of the U.S. and Canada, whose Christian faith is evident in their stories and lives.
I’m just as honored today to be publishing Hometown Cinderella, my fifth Love Inspired Historical title, during their special month celebrating the line’s fifteen-year anniversary. With this book, I’m returning to one of my favorite settings, Down East Maine, the location of some of my earlier books (Wild Rose, Lilac Spring).
Down East Maine is the last stretch of coastline, beyond scenic, touristy southern and mid-coast Maine. Once you leave Bar Harbor behind, you enter a place of wild, rugged, breathtakingly beautiful rocky coast few tourists discover. It’s a place where living is tough. Lobster fishing, clamming, logging and seasonal harvesting of blueberries, cranberries and apples offer some of the few ways to earn a living.
What fascinated me in my reading of nineteenth century coastal Maine was how it was the end of the era of the small, self-sustaining farm. These farmers worked hard, but lived well. They were people of independent spirit, self-reliance and thrift.
Gideon Jakeman is such a person. I hope you enjoy his and Mara’s journey as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Be blessed in the reading,
Ruth Axtell Morren
General Delivery
Cutler, ME 04626
[email protected]
Questions for Discussion
When Mara and Gideon first meet in church, they each have misconceptions about the other. How are first impressions often misperceptions?
Normally, Gideon and Mara would move in different circles. What brings them together at this point in their lives?
Mara quickly sees and understands Lizzie’s yearnings, just as Gideon steps in to offer Dietrich the gentle yet firm guidance the boy needs. How does this help reveal each one’s true character to the other?
Outwardly, Mara is reserved, elegant and ladylike. What does Gideon see that others don’t see?
Even though Gideon appears to be a rough, uneducated farmer, what gestures show Mara that he is a true gentleman?
Mara has learned the hard way not to trust surface charm. How does Gideon counter this distrust?
Gideon has never expected to meet anyone to make him consider remarrying. Mara seems so different from his first wife. Yet what things about her cause him to reconsider his widowhood?
Mara was married to a talented and famous man who left her and their son penniless. Gideon can’t understand how a man would not provide for his spouse and child. How does this reflect Gideon’s faith and moral code?
How does Gideon’s quiet strength balance Mara’s worries over Dietrich’s rambunctious behavior and help put her fears into perspective?
Lizzie’s stories of her father when he was first widowed reveal to Mara the kind of man he was, caring and sensitive, and endear him further to her even when she refuses to allow herself to trust again. Why is it hard to refute Lizzie’s testimonials about her father?
Christians usually have to deal with someone unpleasant in their lives. How does both Mara’s and Gideon’s behavior toward Carina show their spiritual maturity?
When Mara sees Gideon in the woodshed at Thanksgiving, she can no longer deny that there is something between them. What is her immediate reaction?
Gideon is able to read Mara’s reactions even when she doesn’t express herself openly. What does this tell her of his sensitivity and perception, despite his having less formal education and polish than she does?
Even though Mara expresses her sincere gratitude to Gideon for rescuing her during the snowstorm, further breaking down the barriers between them, why does Gideon still fear he’ll never be able to help her overcome the scars of the past?
Why does Mara feel ashamed after confessing her past to Gideon? Have you ever regretted opening up to someone for the first time? Why?
Emma Wadler has made a good life for herself, running the Wadler Inn in the town of Hope Springs, Ohio. She has accepted her life as an “old maid,” and is content catering to the tourists who come to view her Amish community. She had once hoped to marry and raise a family of her own, but her fiancé died tragically when they were both only seventeen, and Emma has guarded her heart ever since.
Adam Troyer fixes things. Having just returned to the faith after years in the English world, Adam is hoping to prove to his father that he is committed to a simple life. So he’s happy to be hired by Emma’s mother to make repairs to the inn during the winter off-season. The old Swiss-style chalet has its share of problems, but nothing he can’t fix. Nothing except perhaps the broken heart of the owner....
THE INN AT HOPE SPRINGS
Patricia Davids
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
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter One
“Stop right there. What do you think you’re doing?”
Inside the front door of the Wadler Inn, Adam Troyer froze, his ladder balanced precariously on his shoulder. He didn’t dare swing around to see who was scolding him. If he tried, he’d break a window or take out a row of Grandma Yoder’s jams and jellies lining the display shelves beside the door. A window could be replaced, but good gooseberry jam was a work of art. Grandma Yoder’s was the best.
“What is the meaning of this?” A woman moved into his line of sight from behind the jam display. Planting herself in front of him, she prevented him from advancing into the lobby. Arms akimbo in her brown Amish dress, a scowl on her face beneath the white prayer cap on her auburn hair, the little woman reminded him of a hen with her feathers ruffled in annoyance. An angry Rhode Island Red with spectacles.
He struggled to keep from laughing. “You are Emma Wadler, jah?”
“I am. Who are you, and why are you bringing that ladder in here?” Her tone was cold as the February temperature outside.
He swallowed his grin. He needed this job. “I’m Adam Troyer. I’m here to fix the loose stones in the fireplace and some of the shutters outside.”
He’d only seen her a few times before this. Although they belonged to different Amish church districts, he’d spent time in Hope Springs when he’d visited his cousins. His cousin David called her a plain-faced alt maedel.
She didn’t look that old, maybe thirty at the most. Not all that plain, either, with he
r peaches-and-cream complexion and full red lips. At the moment those lips were pressed into a hard line, but he figured a smile would make her almost pretty.
Behind wire-rimmed glasses, her hazel eyes narrowed. No smile appeared. “There’s nothing wrong with our shutters. Who hired you?”
“The owner did.”
She folded her arms. “I’m the owner.”
“You are?” That surprised him. Very few Amish women owned businesses outright, although many owned them jointly with their husbands.
“I asked Mr. Parker to hire the lad, Emma. Now let him get to work. I don’t want another quilt smoked up.” A tall, gray-haired woman in a royal-blue dress crossed the room. Bright-eyed and smiling, tall and big-boned, Naomi Wadler was the opposite of her daughter in every respect.
Stopping in front of him, she pointed to one end of the lobby. “We have several stones loose in the fireplace. Can you fix them?”
The impressive stone structure soared two stories high and was at least eight feet wide. Made in the old-world fashion using rounded river stones in mortar with a massive timber for a mantel. Someone had added a quilt hanger near the top. It made a fine place to display a handmade quilt.
Emma spoke up. “Don’t start work just yet, Mr. Troyer. Mudder, I need a word with you,” she stated, a hint of steel in her tone.
As Adam watched the women leave the room, he had the sinking feeling he was about to lose this much-needed job.
Chapter Two
Emma led the way to the small office behind the front desk and closed the door after her mother. “I wish you had discussed this with me. We can’t afford to have a lot of work done. I can take care of most things myself.”
“Nonsense. We can’t afford not to get the work done. And now is the best time—it’s the middle of winter and we have so few guests. Mr. Parker mentioned to me his growing list of things that need repairs. Didn’t he mention them to you?”
“He did. I will get to them.”
Emma had hired Mr. Parker to take over the day-to-day contact with guests and to handle the phone and computerized reservations that her religion didn’t allow her to do. He had been an invaluable employee for five years. If he felt the need to go over her head, she shouldn’t have brushed aside his concerns.
“I discussed it with Dr. White when I ran into him at the grocery store yesterday,” Naomi said. “He does own half this inn. I felt he needed to know.”
He owned fifty-one percent to be exact. Dr. Harold White was the town’s only physician. He and her father had been great friends. She could not own such a business by herself outright because of her religious restrictions so she had asked Dr. White for his help. Her bishop found it acceptable because she was unmarried and because she was working for a non-Amish partner. Dr. White left her completely in charge of running the place and that suited them both.
Her mother pressed her point. “Adam Troyer’s rates are reasonable. Do you want a stone or a shutter to drop on some poor Englischer’s head? Besides, Dr. White’s not happy the place is getting run-down.”
“It is not getting run-down. A little shabby maybe.”
Her mother merely raised one eyebrow.
Emma relented and admitted her mother was right. “Very well, there are some things that need fixing.”
Naomi smiled brightly. “Jah, there are. You don’t have to be the one doing all the work at this inn. You work too hard as it is.”
Emma held her tongue. Her mother didn’t understand that hard work was the only thing that kept the loneliness at bay.
Moving forward, Naomi reached out to straighten Emma’s prayer kapp. “Did you notice what a nice smile the young man has?”
“I noticed he almost knocked down our jam display.” Emma submitted to her mother’s attention although she suspected her kapp was already perfectly straight.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to smile back at a young man once in a while.” Suddenly, Naomi sneezed, then sneezed again.
Emma took two quick steps away. The last thing she wanted was to cause her mother discomfort. What had she been thinking?
Rubbing her nose, Naomi said, “Sorry, I don’t know what started that. You look tired, Emma. Is everything okay?”
She should look tired. She’d been up every two hours through the night for the past two nights. She wasn’t about to explain why. How could she expect her mother to understand when she didn’t know herself why she’d taken on a task doomed to failure? “I’m fine. I must get to work.”
“And Adam Troyer stays, jah?” her mother asked.
Emma wasn’t about to make a promise she might regret. “We shall see.”
Chapter Three
Emma opened her office door and walked out into the lobby. Adam had set his ladder on the floor. Her jams and jellies were no longer in danger.
He stood by the fireplace carefully examining the stonework. He had taken off his hat and coat, giving her a view of his tall, lean frame. His hair, sandy brown and curly, was trimmed in the same bowl cut all Amish men wore. Since he didn’t have a beard she knew he was unmarried.
Why was he still single at his age? He had to be in his late twenties or early thirties.
His plain clothes fit him well. His suspenders drew attention from where his broad shoulders filled out his white shirt down to where his dark trousers accentuated his narrow waist and lean hips.
And what was she doing thinking about such things when she had an inn to run?
Naomi pointed to the top of the fireplace. “Our innkeeper noticed at least two stones loose near the ceiling when he was taking down the last quilt I sold. I’ll show you which ones, but there may be others.”
Emma clasped her hands in front of her. “Exactly how many fireplaces such as this have you repaired, Mr. Troyer?”
Adam looked at her. “Like this one? None.”
She blinked. “None? And you expect me to hire you?”
Adam didn’t appear the least put out by her remark. His eyes twinkled as he said, “This will be the largest fireplace I’ve worked on but the repair principle is the same. I can do the job.”
She would have to trust him. The smoke leaking out around the loose stones had left soot marks on the quilt and ceiling. “It appears you have a job. If your work is satisfactory we will discuss additional projects tomorrow morning.”
Beaming a bright grin at her, he crossed the room and held out his hand. “That’s a deal then, Emma.”
Hesitating only a fraction of the second, she took his hand. “Jah, we have a deal.”
His large fingers engulfed her small ones as he pumped her arm with vigor. The warmth of his touch took her by surprise. The calloused strength of his hand gripping hers did funny things to her insides. Looking up into his smiling face, she was tempted to smile back, but she didn’t. Instead she pulled her hand away and folded her arms tightly across her middle.
He might be a handsome man with his curly hair and bright blue eyes, but that shouldn’t matter. If he did a good job, then she would be pleased.
She didn’t want to admit the warmth of his hand and the friendliness of his smile caused butterflies in the pit of her stomach. She had put such foolishness behind her after the death of her fiancé ten years ago. Her heart lay in pieces in the cold ground with William, her one true love.
The grandfather clock in the corner began to chime the hour. Emma realized with a start that she was late. “Continue with your work, Mr. Troyer. I will be back to check on you.”
She rushed through the kitchen, grabbing her coat from the hook on her way out. Pulling on her coat in the cold air, she prayed she would still find all was well, but she knew not to expect too much.
Chapter Four
Adam was finishing the fireplace whe
n Emma showed up again. He’d found several others stones that needed repair and noticed a half dozen tiles on the large hearth with cracked grout. No one had asked him to repair those, but he couldn’t leave a job half-done. Emma had purchased the mortar. The least he could do was get her money’s worth out of it.
He remained on his knees by the hearth as he waited for her assessment of his work. She stepped up to run her hand along the repaired tiles. It was then he noticed bits of straw clinging to the back of her skirt and her dark socks.
Frowning, she gestured toward the top of the fireplace. “The repairs don’t match the rest.”
“The mortar is still damp. When it dries it will be hard to tell the old from the new. Hand me that rag and I’ll finish evening out these grout lines.”
Picking up a red cloth in a small basin behind her, she held it out. “This one?”
“Jah.” He gestured toward her skirt. “You have some straw stuck on you.”
To his surprise, her cheeks turned bright red. She brushed at it quickly. “I was seeing to our horse.”
Like many Amish who no longer found employment on the farm, she still maintained a small stable and a buggy horse to carry her and her mother to church meetings and other gatherings. He had seen their neat white house and little stable on the street behind the inn. Why was she embarrassed about a little straw on her skirt? Taking the rag from her, he began to wipe the tiles free of the excess mortar.
“You missed a spot.”
He leaned back and looked over his work. “Where?”
Taking up a second rag, she knelt beside him and began wiping at a spot he had already done. Finishing, she leaned back to study her work, then began wiping again. As she concentrated, her tongue peeked out from between her lips. How kissable she looked.
He pulled his gaze away from her face as his neck grew hot. Why on earth was he thinking about kissing her? That kind of loose thinking belonged to his past. She was a respectable Amish woman. Maybe his father was right and he couldn’t give up his English ways after so many years.
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