“Miracles happen on Christmas Day,” Dorma said positively. “They’ll happen for us now.”
She wiped the new rush of tears that had slipped down her cheeks. “I hope so.”
Dorma shook her head. “Nee, Grace. You must believe.” And then, right as Grace was struggling to answer that, Dorma opened the door and walked into the hall.
“Dorma, stop!” she hissed.
“Who’s up there?”
The voice sounded gruff and mean. Threatening.
“I am,” Dorma said, clear as day.
Snooze started barking frantically at the sound of Dorma’s voice. Which, unfortunately, encouraged Dorma to run down the stairs to him. Grace followed, more afraid than she could remember being during her entire life.
Dorma had been right. There was nothing better to do than pray.
“Please God,” she whispered frantically. “Please help us.” She had no time to come up with anything more coherent than that. Just as Grace reached the main floor, Dorma cried out . . . then rushed across the entryway, into the living room . . . and toward two men who were clad in jeans and T-shirts, and wearing gloves.
“Dorma, nee. Wait!”
But Dorma didn’t wait. Instead, she reached out to the men with a pleased smile. “Samuel! Benjamin! You came for Christmas!”
Time seemed to stop as the men gaped at Dorma, Snooze hurried up to Grace’s side, and the sudden, sharp sound of sirens broke through the air.
The sound was so welcome, it felt like Christmas had come at last.
Chapter 39
“Dorma, nee,” Grace called out as she rushed to her side. “Come stand by me.”
But Dorma wasn’t paying a lick of attention to her. Instead, she was focused completely on the two men, men who were Dorma’s nephews.
“Did you come to see me for Christmas?” Dorma asked again, trying to hug the pair. She was obviously unaware of the sirens outside, the tension in the air, or the danger the men posed.
Grace tensed, afraid that one of the young men would push Dorma roughly aside. But instead, the youngest one only pulled away from her grasp.
“Why are you here, Aunt Dorma?”
“I’m living here with Grace.” The words were barely out of her mouth when the door was thrown open and Sheriff Brewer and Deputy Beck ran inside, their guns drawn.
“Hands up where I can see them!” one of them called out.
“Get down, Dorma,” the boy said, pushing her toward the floor before doing as he was bid.
As Dorma fell to her hands and knees, and the sheriff yelled again, Grace crawled over to the older woman, holding her tightly.
The next few minutes fell into a blur. More uniformed officers came inside, and Dorma’s nephews were handcuffed and pulled to the side, where Deputy Beck was barking questions at them.
A female officer guided Dorma and Grace, who was holding Snooze, to the kitchen. She helped them sit down, got them hot tea, then asked them to share the events of the evening.
Grace did as best she could, but she was rattled and exhausted. She was also worried about Snooze. He didn’t look to be injured, but he was shaking like a leaf and didn’t want to leave her lap.
She also wanted to know what else was going on in the living room.
Never had she wished more that John Michael was nearby. Surely, he could get some answers!
Then, as if John heard her call, he walked into the kitchen. He was wearing a long-sleeved blue T-shirt on his top half and his firemen’s pants and boots on the bottom half. He also smelled smoky.
Had he been in danger, too, tonight? Overwhelmed with relief, she got to her feet and ran to him. “John Michael!”
“Grace.” He roughly pulled her into his arms, and she clung to him gratefully, not even caring who was watching them. “Are you all right?” he whispered. “They didn’t harm ya, did they?”
“I’m fine. The sheriff came just in time.”
After hugging her close again, he released her. Smiling down at her, he said, “I’ll be saying prayers of thanks for that for the rest of my life.”
“I think I will, too.” Reaching out, she fingered the fabric of his pants. “You’ve been out fighting a fire.”
His expression changed. “I have. They set my house on fire, Grace.”
“What?” Just when she thought she had no more tears, they came again. “What about your parents? Are they okay?”
“Yeah. They’re fine. We got there in time.”
The female police officer stood up. “I think we have everything we need for now. I’m glad you’re all okay.”
“Me, too,” Grace said with a watery smile.
When the three of them were alone, Dorma whispered, “The Lord kept his promises. He helped us get through the fire.”
“Amen to that,” John Michael said before gathering Grace into his arms once again.
What an unusual and wonderful Christmas morning, Grace reflected as she was looking around the Lees’ ornate dining room table. Each chair was filled with people she loved—her whole family, Dorma, John Michael, and his parents, too. Her heart felt full to bursting with her blessings.
“I think we should have orange French toast every Christmas morning, Grace,” her mother said as she placed another plate in the center of the table. “It’s wonderbaar.”
“It is gut, but I think every meal is now going to taste especially sweet,” John Michael said.
“I was thinking that very same thing,” Grace’s daed said to her. “Matter of fact, I don’t think I’m going to be able to take my eyes off of you all day.”
John Michael’s mother squeezed her son’s hand. “I feel much the same way. Last night was the most frightening of my life, but this morning has reminded me of how many blessings I’ve been given.”
“Houses can be rebuilt and things can be replaced,” Mr. Miller said. “We are just fine, and the animals are, too. Nothing else really matters.”
Grace couldn’t have agreed more. Soon after John Michael had arrived, the sheriff left with Dorma’s nephews. And one of the deputies went over to John Michael’s house, promising he’d bring his parents over to the Lees’.
When they arrived, they’d talked for several hours while John Michael and his parents took turns showering. All of them shared their stories. Then, after helping Mr. and Mrs. Miller into an empty guest room, Grace fell into an exhausted slumber.
Her family’s arrival early that morning, just minutes after Grace had walked into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, was a welcome surprise.
Her mother and sisters began fixing breakfast while Grace got dressed and took care of Snooze.
Now all of them were seated around the table, eating French toast and reflecting on the events that had transpired the night before.
“You two sure did good work last night,” Grace’s father said to her and Dorma.
Grace shook her head. “Daed, I can’t say that we did anything much. We mainly hid.”
“But you did call the police. That was good.”
“I shouldn’t have insisted me and Dorma stay here in the first place,” Grace admitted. “If we had left, I wouldn’t have put Dorma and Snooze in danger. I let my pride and stubbornness overrule good judgment.”
“Not so fast,” John Michael said. “While I would have loved to have known you were safe from harm, if you hadn’t been here, those men wouldn’t have been caught. Because you and Dorma were here and kept your cool, the series of robberies and fires that the county has been experiencing has ended. Everyone in the county is going to sleep much better.”
When her sisters and even her mother nodded, Grace felt her cheeks heat. She didn’t know if she’d actually done the right thing or not. However, she was mighty glad that things had turned out the way they had. “I’m simply glad it’s all over.”
“We all are,” Mrs. Miller said with a smile. “I’m proud of you and Dorma.” Looking at her son, her smile turned brighter. “And I couldn’t be more tha
nkful to have a firefighter son.”
Beth raised her cup of coffee. “What matters now is that we’ve all remembered what was important and that we’re all together, too.”
“And that it’s Christmas,” Grace’s sister Sylvia called out.
Grace raised her cup. “Here’s to that. Merry Christmas, everyone! Cheers!”
Just as the rest of them raised their cups, the front door opened. And in came Mr. and Mrs. Lee.
“Grace?” Cindy Lee called out. “What is going on? There are two buggies out front. Tire tracks all over our lawn. What . . .” Her voice drifted off as she took in the scene in front of her.
While Snooze ran toward Cindy and Parker Lee, Grace jumped to her feet. “Um, good morning,” she said hesitantly. “I’m afraid I have something to tell you. Things around here have been mighty exciting.”
“It looks like you’ve decided to have a party,” Parker Lee said.
While Grace swallowed hard, wondering how in the world she was ever going to share what had happened, her mother walked over to Cindy and Parker.
“I made French toast. We have orange juice, brown-sugar bacon, and coffee, too. Come join us.”
Neither of them moved. Finally, Cindy found her voice. “I would rather hear what is going on.”
“Yes!” Mamm said brightly. “Now come sit down and we’ll all tell you everything.”
John’s mother shifted around the chairs. “You’d best do as Josephine is suggesting,” she said to the Lees. “I promise, you’re going to need some sustenance, too. It’s quite the story.”
Chapter 40
“Well, you made it,” John Michael said to Grace as they walked along the driveway in front of the mobile home his family was living in while they rebuilt their house. “You survived Christmas.”
Grace looked at him and giggled. It was one week after Christmas and everything almost felt peaceful. She’d moved back home and helped Dorma get settled in their guestroom. John Michael and his parents had ordered a mobile home and already met with an architect about plans for the new house.
The Lees had not only forgiven Grace for inviting so many people to stay in their home, they called her their hero. They sent her family a giant fruit basket and had even given Grace a bonus as their way of thanking her.
And while Beth and John Michael still might never be good friends, they’d held fast to their earlier promise to put the past behind them.
Grace felt like she and John Michael were getting closer every day, doing things like they were doing now—simply walking outside and spending time together.
And teasing each other some, just like they used to do when they’d first met.
“You’re right,” she said at last. “I did survive Christmas, but barely! Just about everything that could have happened did. Fires, robberies, bad nephews . . .”
“Too many houseguests, runaway dogs . . .”
“And you,” she finished with a giggle.
He pressed his hand to his heart. “Don’t tell me you’re going to place me in the same category as all those catastrophes.”
“Of course not. You were the bright spot in the midst of everything.” Then, as she thought of all the amazing things that the Lord had brought to her, she corrected herself. “Actually, now that I think about it, there were many bright spots in the midst of all the hardship and confusion.”
He clasped her hand. Threaded their fingers together before bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss. “I’ve often seen that happen. Right when everything feels like it’s never going to be okay again, something wonderful happens. Like finding you in the woods.”
“Or when Snooze helped Dorma and me when Samuel and Benjamin broke into the Lees’ house,” she reflected. “Or, when you and I learned that there was so much more between us than we’d ever thought.”
“Especially that.”
Now that she was home and sitting next to John Michael, it was even easier to catch the bright gifts that all the chaos had brought: her new relationship with Dorma, a newfound appreciation for her family, and even a fondness for one tiny, fierce dachshund.
“Snooze might have been my toughest client in years, but I’m sure going to miss him.”
“I bet. You and him have been through a lot.”
“We have. But so has everyone else. All of us in the county are going to have to come together to help the families affected by the robberies and the fires.”
“And that was just this month! Think about everything that’s happened in just the Amish community over the last two years.”
Grace shivered. “There have been so many terrible things, from stalkers to women getting attacked to that awful incident over on the lake.”
“Don’t forget when that couple got stuck in Horse Cave. Or when people were getting sick from that hidden still.” John Michael exhaled. “I hope I am bored silly next year, though I have a feeling that won’t happen. Here in Hart County, anything can happen.”
“And it probably will.” After sharing another tender look with him, Grace moved into his arms. Loving how secure she felt next to him, she continued. “What is most amazing to me is that after each one of those events, everyone who was affected became stronger.”
John Michael hugged her close and brushed his lips against her cheek before releasing her. “The Lord has been answering so many of our prayers.” Taking her hands in his, he said, “When a person feels like he isn’t alone, he can feel like he can do anything.”
“I know He’s answered many of my prayers lately.” Lifting her chin to gaze into his eyes, she confided, “Mere minutes before we reunited, before Snooze ran off after that squirrel, I’d been praying hard, asking the Lord to help me get through Christmas. I was afraid of being all alone. I certainly wasn’t!”
After chuckling softly at her quip, John Michael turned serious. “Grace, I don’t want to be without you again.”
“I don’t want to be without you, either.”
He pressed his lips to her temple. “I love you. I know you love me . . . I don’t want to wait any longer.”
“I don’t want to wait longer, either.”
He paused, then reached for both of her hands. “Say you’ll be mine, Grace King. Say you’ll let me love you and you’ll love me back for the rest of our days. Say you’ll marry me.”
Grace searched his face. Saw earnestness there. Saw passion and bravery and everything she’d discovered in him, even though she had thought she had already known him so well.
Then she looked just beyond him and through the windows. At the rolling hills. At the woods. At the snow and the tracks from the deer and the faint lights she could see in the distance.
This moment was like a dozen they’d exchanged.
But even more perfect.
So she said the only thing she could. Smiling brightly, she nodded. “I promise all those things, John Michael Miller. I promise to love you and have your love and be your wife.”
Then he stood, and with his two strong arms, John Michael picked her up and swung her in a circle as she laughed.
And she was fairly sure the sound echoed through the valley . . . and maybe all through the county and up into the heavens, too.
She hoped so. Such happiness was meant to be shared.
Acknowledgments
I owe a world of gratitude to the folks at Avon for both the idea and the production of the Amish of Hart County series. Writing six books over two years that were suspenseful yet not exactly a series was a bit of a challenge for me! I couldn’t have done it without the direction of my incredible editorial team of Erika Tsang, Nicole Fischer, Patrice Silverstein, and Julia Meltzer. Each of them was integral in making sure every book was the best it could be. And the covers! I loved how fresh and different each one was from my previous novels. I wish all authors were as blessed as I have been to have such a great team of people by their side.
I’m indebted to my critique partners, especially Heather Blake Webber, Lynne Stroup, my firs
t reader, and to my Amish friends who gave the books their stamp of approval, even though some of my characters did very bad things. I’m also thankful to my street team, the Buggy Bunch, who read all the books and helped me spread the word about Hart County. Finally, I’m so grateful for the many librarians who have placed my books on their shelves, told their patrons about my books, and have even invited me to visit their towns. What a blessing!
This note wouldn’t be complete without a word of thanks to my readers. When I made the scary decision to write my first Amish novel, I had no idea that this choice would lead me on such an incredible journey that would last over a decade. Even more special have been the many reader friends I’ve made, both online and in person. Just thinking about y’all makes my heart full. Thank you for your support, your faith, and your kindness.
Meet Shelley Shepard Gray
In many ways, my writing journey has been like my faith journey. I entered into both with a lot of hope and a bit of nervousness. You see, I didn’t get baptized until I was in my twenties and didn’t first get published until I was in my thirties. Some people might consider those events to have happened a little late in life. However, I feel certain that God knew each took place at exactly the right time for me.
To be honest, these days I rarely stop to think about my life before I was a Christian or a writer. I simply wake up, drink my coffee, and try to get everything done that I can each day! I feel blessed to be a part of a large church family and a busy career. But, every so often, someone will ask why I write inspirational novels. Or why I write at all.
Then I remember how it felt to knock on a minister’s office door and tell him that I wanted to be baptized. And how it felt the very first time I wrote “Chapter 1.” Both felt exhilarating and nerve-wracking.
Perhaps you are a little bit like me. Maybe you, also, developed your faith a little after some of your friends or family. Maybe you, also, began a new job in a field that you didn’t go to school for. Maybe you started on a journey where you weren’t even sure you were going to be a success or even fit in.
His Promise Page 20