by Amy Clipston
A
PLACE of
PEACE
Amy Clipston
BOOK THREE
In loving memory of my father,
Ludwig “Bob” Goebelbecker
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Note to the Reader
Families in A Place of Peace
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
Apple Strudel
Discussion Questions
Glossary
Acknowledgments
Also by Amy Clipston
Kauffman Amish Bakery Series A Gift of Grace
Kauffman Amish Bakery Series A Promise of Hope
Copyright
About the Publisher
Share Your Thoughts
Note to the Reader
While this novel is set against the real backdrop of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, the characters are fictional. There is no intended resemblance between the characters in this book and any real members of the Amish and Mennonite communities. As with any work of fiction, I’ve taken license in some areas of research as a means of creating the necessary circumstances for my characters. My research was thorough; however, it would be impossible to be completely accurate in details and description, since each and every community differs. Therefore, any inaccuracies in the Amish and Mennonite lifestyles portrayed in this book are completely due to fictional license.
Families in A Place of Peace
1
Miriam Lapp leaned over the counter and smiled at the little redheaded girl, her favorite patient at the Center for Pediatrics. “Good morning, Brittany. How are you feeling today?”
The four-year-old scrunched up her nose, causing her freckles to wrinkle. “My ear hurts.”
Miriam swallowed a chuckle at the girl’s adorable expression. “I’m sorry. I’m certain Dr. Sabella can help you.”
Brittany’s face was grim. “Yeah, but I don’t want a shot.”
Miriam leaned down, angling her face closer to the girl’s, and lowered her voice. “I have a hunch he won’t give you a shot. I bet he’ll just look in your ear and make sure it’s not full of potatoes.”
“Pee-tatoes!” Brittany squealed a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand.
Glancing at Brittany’s mother, Miriam smiled. “It’s so good to see you today. How’s Mr. Baker?”
“He’s doing well, thank you.” The woman pulled out her wallet. “How are you?”
“Doing just fine, thank you.” Miriam straightened her purple scrub top. “I’ll take your co-pay, Mrs. Baker.”
“Thank you.” The woman handed Miriam her debit card.
Turning, Miriam swiped the card through the credit card machine and snatched a pen from the counter.
“Miriam!” Lauren, the office manager, rushed over from the inner office. “Miriam, there’s a call for you on line two.”
“I’ll be just a minute,” Miriam said, punching the keys on the credit machine. “I’m running through Mrs. Baker’s co-pay.”
Lauren took the pen from Miriam’s hand. “I got it.” Frowning, she nodded toward the inner office. “Use my phone.”
Arching an eyebrow in question, Miriam studied her coworker’s worried face. During the year Miriam had worked for Lauren, she’d never seen her look so concerned about a phone call. “Who is it?”
“Go on,” Lauren said, nodding toward the office again. “I’ll take over up here. You take your time.”
“Who is it?” Miriam asked again.
“Hannah,” Lauren whispered.
“Hannah?” Miriam’s mind raced, wracking her brain with thoughts of who it could be. She only knew one Hannah … “My sister Hannah?”
Lauren gave a quick nod. “Yes. Now go.”
Miriam’s stomach twisted. In the nearly four years since she’d left her family in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, not one member of her family had ever called her. Only Hannah had written her, but called—never. Miriam had made it a point of giving Hannah her cell, home, and work numbers, and Hannah said she would only use them in case of an emergency.
Something is wrong.
Her thoughts moved to Hannah’s eldest daughter, Lena Joy, who’d been born with a genetic disorder. Had something happened to her?
Her eyes widened with worry.
“Go!” Lauren nudged her toward the office. “Take all the time you need.”
Taking a deep breath, Miriam rushed to the inner office, dropped into Lauren’s chair, lifted the receiver to her ear, and punched the button for line two.
“Hello?” Miriam held her breath, waiting for her sister’s familiar voice.
“Miriam,” Hannah said. “How are you?”
The voice was sweet and familiar, bringing tears to Miriam’s eyes as memories assaulted her mind. She’d treasured those nights long ago when they would lie awake late into the evening in the room they shared, whispering their future plans. Funny how it all came true for Hannah —she’d married the love of her life and had a family. Miriam, on the other hand, was the disappointment of the family. She’d left the community and never joined the Amish church or married.
Hannah was the only one who’d seemed to understand when Miriam made the choice that changed her life forever—when she left the love of her life, her family, and the only community she’d ever known. Hannah forgave her when the rest of the family did not.
Oh, how Miriam had missed her sister.
“I’m good. You?” Miriam stared absently at the date and time glowing on the phone while winding the cord around her finger.
“Gut.” Hannah’s Pennsylvania Dietsch brought another flood of family memories crashing down on Miriam.
“It’s so wonderful to hear your voice, Hannah,” Miriam said. “How is your family? How are the children?”
“Oh, the kinner are gut, danki,” Hannah said. “They grow so fast.”
“And Lena Joy? She’s doing well?” Miriam asked and then held her breath in anticipation of the response.
“She has good and bad days, as to be expected. If only there were a cure …” Hannah paused for a moment as if collecting her thoughts or perhaps censoring her words. “Miriam, I’m afraid I have bad news.” Her voice was cautious, causing Miriam’s heart to thump in her chest.
“What is it?”
“Mamm …” She paused. “Mamm iss gschtarewe.”
“What?” Miriam gasped. “Mom died?” She groaned and covered her face with her hands. “No. No, no, no. Hannah, you don’t mean that.”
“Ya, I’m sorry to say I do.” Her sister’s voice trembled. “I can’t believe it either.”
“When?”
“Last night. In her sleep, from complications due to pneumonia. Daed found her this morning. He didn’t know that she’d …” Her voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging between them like a thick fog.
Miriam wiped the tears trickling down her hot cheeks. “How can she be gone? I was planning a trip home over the holidays to try to make everything right.”
“I’m so sorry to call you at work and tell you this.”
“No, no.” Miriam plucked a tissue from the box on Lauren’s tidy desk and dabbed her eyes and nose. “I’m glad you let me know. I’ll go home and pack and then get o
n the road. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She glanced at her watch and then mentally calculated the trip from her home in LaGrange, Indiana, to Gordonville, Pennsylvania. “I should be there before midnight.”
“Oh, gut. I was hoping you’d come.”
“Of course I will. We’re family.”
“Ya. We are.” Hannah’s voice trembled. “Drive safely. Ich liebe dich, Schweschder.”
“I will.” Miriam tried in vain to stop the tears flowing from her eyes. “I love you too, Sister.”
After dropping the receiver into the cradle, Miriam cupped her hands to her face and sobbed while memories of her mother flooded her mind. The last time she’d seen her mother was the night she snuck out of the farmhouse and left the community to move to Indiana and live with her cousin Abby.
Lifting the receiver to her ear again, Miriam dialed Abby’s office and groaned when voicemail picked up.
“You’ve reached the voicemail for Abigail Johnston, paralegal with Wainwright, Morrison, and Rhodes,” Abby’s voice sang into the phone line. “I’m either on the phone or away from my desk. Please leave a detailed message, including your name, the time and date of your call, your phone number, and the nature of your call, and I will call you back as soon as I return. Thank you.”
After the shrill beep ended, Miriam took a deep breath. “Abby, it’s me.” Before she could stop them, the tears started, and her voice was thick. “Call me. I just got the most horrible news. Hannah called me, and my mamm …” Her voice trailed off; she couldn’t say the word. “I’m heading home to pack up and leave for Gordonville right away. Call me. Bye.”
She slammed the phone down and stood. After explaining the situation to Lauren, she rushed to the apartment she’d shared with Abby since Abby’s husband left her two years ago.
Miriam was drowning in memories and packing when the door to her bedroom whooshed open, dragging across the worn tan carpet.
“What’s going on?” a voice behind her asked.
Miriam turned to find her cousin standing in the doorway, clad in her best blue suit. Her light brown hair was cut in a short, stylish bob, perfect for a professional climbing the corporate ladder. She looked the part of an aspiring lawyer.
“Abby,” Miriam said. “What are you doing here?”
“I left the office as soon as I got your voicemail.” Her eyes were full of concern. “What did Hannah say?”
“Mamm passed away last night.” Miriam’s voice broke on the last word. Covering her mouth with her hands, she choked back a sob.
“Oh no.” Abby encircled her in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t believe it,” Miriam choked through her sobs. “I was going to surprise her with a visit over Christmas and try to work things out. I wanted to make things right. I wanted to see her and talk to her in person. But, now … Now she’s—”
“Shhh.” Abby patted her back. “It’s going to be all right.”
“But how?” Miriam swiped her tears away with the back of her hands.
A somber smile turned up her cousin’s lips. “Remember what you told me when that snake of a husband of mine left me for his perky secretary?”
Miriam shook her head. “Not really.”
“You reminded me of a very important verse from Isaiah —'those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.'” Abby’s eyes were serious. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”
Biting her bottom lip, Miriam nodded.
“I’ll pack a few things, and we’ll get on the road.” Abby headed for the door.
“You’re coming with me?”
Abby gave a little shrug. “Of course I am. Did you honestly think I’d let you face the family alone after nearly four years?”
Miriam let out a sigh. “I’d hoped not.”
Abby gestured toward the suitcase. “Get packed, and we’ll get on the road. With any luck, we’ll be there before midnight. I imagine your dad and my parents won’t welcome us with open arms. I guess we’ll stay with Aunt Edna?”
Miriam nodded. “I was thinking that. As far as I know, she’s still living alone in that little house on my daed’s farm.”
“I should have said Aenti Edna.” Abby smiled. “Guess I better brush up on my Pennsylvania Dietsch, huh? Man, how long has it been since I’ve been back there?”
“Six years, right?” Miriam lowered herself onto her double bed next to her suitcase.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Abby shook her head and stepped toward the door. “Well, we have a long ride ahead of us. We better get on the road.”
Taking a deep breath, Miriam rose from the bed and fished a few blouses from her dresser. Closing her eyes, she whispered a prayer for strength and courage as she embarked on this painful trip to her past.
2
The tires of Miriam’s Honda Accord crunched down the winding rock path leading to the house where she’d grown up with her three siblings. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as the three-story whitewashed farmhouse with the sweeping wraparound porch came into view. Memories of late summer nights sitting on that porch swarmed her mind.
Sitting with her mother chatting about friends and relatives.
Lounging with her siblings, singing their favorite hymns.
Curling up on the porch swing, reading the Bible.
Miriam nosed the car up to the front porch and stared at the steps reflected in the beam of light. Memories mixed with regret and heartache crashed down on her. She knew that members of the community would have visited and offered condolences to her father and siblings all day today, staying from six in the morning until ten at night. She wished she’d been with them.
“I see a lamp burning in the kitchen. He must still be up.” Abby’s comment slammed Miriam back to the present.
Glancing toward the front windows, Miriam spotted the faint light creeping under the green shades. “It must be the first time in the last sixty years that he has stayed up past eight o’clock.” She blinked back tears. “He must really miss her.”
Abby touched Miriam’s arm. “You want me to walk up to the door with you?”
“No, thanks.” Miriam shook her head. “I need to do this alone.”
Abby snorted. “I wouldn’t be much help anyway. I’m the derelict who left the community, married a heathen, divorced the heathen, and am pursuing my completely un-Amish dream of becoming a lawyer.”
Reaching over, Miriam squeezed Abby’s hand. “I don’t care what any of them says. I think you’re wonderful.”
Abby grinned. “You mean wunderbaar.”
“Ya.” Miriam returned a smile as she wrenched the door open. “Say a prayer for me.” Climbing from the car, she took a deep breath despite the humid July air closing in around her. Her heavy feet felt as if the weight of the world bogged them down as she climbed the steps of the old farmhouse.
Standing at the front door, she suddenly felt self-conscious of her attire. She glanced down at her pink T-shirt, blue jeans, and her painted pink toenails sticking out from her open-toed sandals. She then lifted her hand to her dark brown hair, cut to fall just past her shoulders and pulled up into a thick ponytail, affixed with a purple rubber band. Her attire broke every Amish rule—from her hair being cut to her hint of eye shadow and blush. Her father would surely comment on the disappointment and dishonor Miriam Lapp had brought to his family.
Despite her negative thoughts, Miriam squared her shoulders.
I have as much a right to be here as my siblings. She was my mother too.
She cleared her throat and tapped on the door. Her heart pounded in her chest as she held her breath. Beyond the door, she heard feet pound against the hardwood flooring. The bolt clicked, and the door opened with a protesting groan.
“Who’s there?” a young man’s voice called.
“It’s Miriam.” She hated how her voice trembled when she was nervous.
“Miriam?” The door swung open, revealing her brother, Gerald.
She blinked, stunned by how mature he
was. He was now eighteen, five years her junior. Towering over her at close to six feet, he was handsome, resembling her father when he was younger. He wore traditional Amish clothes —a dark shirt, suspenders, and trousers, and his dark brown hair was cut in a bowl shape.
She wondered if Gerald had met someone special and was courting her, taking her to singings and bringing her home in his courting buggy. Would he marry a sweet Amish girl and have a family, following in the footsteps their parents always dreamt their four children would?
Gerald’s eyes scanned her attire, and she folded her arms across her chest as if that gesture would hide her English clothes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes accusing.
“Hannah called me.” She cleared her throat. “I heard about …
“Who’s here at this hour?” Her father’s voice bellowed from inside the house.
Gerald turned toward the voice. “It’s Miriam. Hannah called her.”
“I don’t know anyone named Miriam.” Her father’s voice was cold, dead of emotion. “Tell her to leave.”
Miriam’s heart sank, and tears filled her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but Gerald slammed the door before the words escaped her lips. She stood staring at the door as the tears gushed from her eyes.
“Hey.” Abby’s voice was soft behind her.
Turning, Miriam found Abby standing at the bottom of the stairs. Miriam wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. “When did you get out of the car?” she asked.
“I saw Gerald’s expression when he opened the door, and I thought you might need moral support. Don’t let them get toyou.” She climbed the stairs and nodded toward the car. “Let’s go to Aenti’s house. When she called my cell phone from her phone shanty, she said we could arrive at any time. The door’s unlocked for us.”
Miriam followed her cousin toward the car.
They drove in silence to the cabin located at the back of her father’s eighty acres. Her father and his brother had built the small home for Edna many years ago after their parents had died and another brother had moved into their parents’ home with his family. Since Edna never married, she lived in the home alone, and her brothers provided for her living expenses. She baked Amish pastries and provided them to local bakeries for extra money.