Redemption

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “Don’t forget, they asked you to come to the party. I think that says a lot about how far they’ve come.”

  “I haven’t forgotten that they asked us, John,” she murmured softly. “They asked both of us.” With a small, gentle smile, she added, “See, they want to know you, too.”

  “I still can’t believe that. It’s more than I expected.”

  “The Amish are more than many expect, I think.”

  He liked the way that sounded, almost as much as he liked the way she sounded. So sure of herself. Confident. Perky.

  “Don’t forget, if someone is mean to you, I want you to tell me immediately.” He still didn’t trust Zeke to behave himself, though Sarah had said she had no worries in that regard. But what she didn’t seem to realize was that Zeke’s hurt and anger had less to do with John pretending to be someone he wasn’t and more to do with Zeke nursing a broken heart.

  “What are you going to do, John? Give them what-for?” she teased.

  He chuckled, liking the sound of his favorite phrase on her lips. “Maybe.”

  “I don’t think anyone will be rude. They promised to accept us, after all.”

  “I hope that’s the case.” He paused, remembering what Lloyd had told him the evening before when he’d stopped by. “Lloyd said it would be.”

  She shook her head in wonder. “I still can’t believe that you and he have become such fast friends. When he exposed you for not being Daniel, I was sure you would always be enemies.”

  “I thought so, too. No one was more surprised to see him at our front door than I.” Reflecting on that, he added, “Sarah, I think we get along because we both survived the war. It’s nice to have someone nearby who understands what it was like.”

  She squeezed his arm, telling him without words that she understood the harsh memories and pain he still fought in the middle of the night.

  Just that one touch gave him strength. He cleared his throat. “But if Lloyd had never wanted to talk to me again, I wouldn’t have blamed him, if you want to know the truth. Lloyd Mast is an upstanding man. It was his right to be disdainful of a man who was willing to take another’s identity.”

  “Jah, he is upstanding. But he is not perfect, John. Nor does he wish to be. Only the Lord is.”

  “He told me much the same thing. I have a lot to learn about forgiveness.”

  “We all do. But it is not our right to punish. That is the Lord’s place.”

  “I hear you, Sarah. And I promise, I am trying hard to believe that.”

  “And that you are worthy of such love and forgiveness?”

  In truth, that was a far harder thing for him to swallow. But he was doing his best to accept such things. “I’m trying my best. I want to believe.”

  She smiled. “Then that is enough, John.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I promise, it is.”

  But then when they walked over the rise, she paused and he saw a small tremor pass through her body. “Look at all the buggies and people at the Yoders! Oh, my goodness, John! When Kristie came over to invite us, I had envisioned it to be a much smaller gathering.”

  “I know you did.”

  “I want to be strong, but I am a little afraid.” To his surprise, she raised her left hand and gazed at the gold band encircling her finger.

  It practically killed him to say it, but he didn’t want to ever cause her a moment’s pain. “Would you like to take off your ring during the party?”

  She whipped her head to his. “No! Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “I saw you look at your hand. And seeing as how the Amish don’t wear wedding rings, I thought maybe you would feel too conspicuous.”

  “Oh, I was only thinking that I like wearing your ring. It helps me remember that I am no longer alone. I know the Lord is always with me. But the ring reminds me that I am no longer alone in my heart.”

  Now those were words to treasure. John exhaled, and stood quietly by her side, telling her without words that he would follow her lead. Let her take as much time as she needed to get ready to join the crowd.

  After a minute, because there was no one else there to see, he wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “It looks like it will be a wonderful gathering. I’m sure you will be most welcome.”

  “I hope so.”

  Dropping his hand, he said, “Are you ready to go to the party, Sarah?”

  “I am.” She started forward, her expression serious.

  He knew that look; it was one she’d worn around him when he’d first arrived. Now he knew she wore it like a mask, as a way of protecting herself from pain.

  As they got closer to the groups of people, first a couple of heads rose. Then, like a wave on an ocean, almost everyone stopped and stared.

  And then, a few women stepped forward. As did Lloyd.

  “It’s about time you two got here,” Lloyd called out with a cheeky grin. “What did you do, stop every five minutes and make a wish? Rest?”

  “We decided to walk,” John said easily. “It took a bit longer than we anticipated.”

  Then he glanced Sarah’s way. Just in time to see her being gathered into the women’s group. And to his amusement, the other women were holding on to her hand and exclaiming over her band of gold.

  He heard her laugh. Then saw her look his way and smile. That smile was bright and genuine and perfect.

  And that was when he realized everything Jeremiah and Sarah, and even Daniel, had tried to teach him.

  Though they weren’t perfect, though they all made mistakes, though they all sinned . . . they were all worthy. Even the smallest mustard seed.

  Even him.

  Author’s Note

  Dear Readers,

  It’s funny how some stories come to pass. Several years ago, I came across an article written by a history scholar describing how the Amish in Holmes County dealt with the Civil War. Some did their best to ignore the war completely. Others paid fees to the Union in exchange for not fighting. But there was one small group of Anabaptists who elected to send seven men to join the cause. They were very opposed to slavery and wanted to do something to show their support.

  Now there was a story!

  I took that small bit of truth and let my imagination take over. I started imagining what life would have been like for the women who were left behind. I also wondered what it must have been like for the men to return home again. Then I decided to shake things up a bit and created a damaged hero who was searching for redemption and love . . . and who also happened to have a very big secret.

  And that is how I came to write Redemption. It’s romantic and a bit far-fetched . . . but sometimes it’s fun to let one’s imagination take flight. I truly enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed it, too.

  With my best,

  Shelley Shepard Gray

  Eager for more heartfelt romance from Shelley Shepard Gray?

  Keep reading for an excerpt from the first book in Shelley’s new series, Return to Sugarcreek

  HOPEFUL

  Now available from Avon Inspire

  One

  September

  SHE WAS LATE.

  Holding her canvas tote bag in one hand and a box of oatmeal-raisin cookies in the other, Miriam Zehr exited her house, darted down her street, turned left on Main Street, and almost ran down old Mr. Sommers.

  With a grunt, he stepped to the side, his garden hose spraying a good bit of water onto her skirts before settling back onto his daffodils.

  She skidded to a stop. “I’m sorry, Eli.”

  He merely raised one eyebrow. “Late again, Miriam?”

  “Jah.” As discreetly as possible, she shook her blue apron and dress a bit. A few drops flew from the fabric, glinting in the morning sun.

  He shook his head in exasperation. “One day you’re going to injure someone with your haste.”

  She winced. “I know. And I am sorry, Eli.”

  Looking at the box in her hand, his voice turned whee
dling. “Those cookies?”

  “They’re oatmeal-raisin.” When his eyes brightened, she set down her tote and carefully opened the box. “Care for one?”

  After setting the hose down, he reached in and pulled out two plump cookies. “Girl who cooks as gut as you should be married by now.”

  She’d heard the same refrain almost as often as she’d run late for work. “I’ve often thought the same thing,” she said as she picked up her tote again. “But for now, I must be on my way.”

  “Have a care, now.” He shook one arthritic finger at her. “Not everyone’s as spry as me, you know.”

  “I’ll be careful,” she promised before continuing on her way to work.

  Once at the Sugarcreek Inn, she would put on a crisp white apron. Then, she’d divide her time between baking pies and serving the restaurant’s guests. The whole time, she’d do her best to smile brightly. Chat with customers and her coworkers. And pretend she didn’t yearn for a different life.

  But first, she had to get to work on time.

  “Going pretty fast today, Miriam,” Joshua Graber called out from the front porch of his family’s store. “How late are you?”

  “Only five minutes. Hopefully.”

  He laughed. “Good luck. Stop by soon, wouldja? Gretta would love to see you.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Now that the Inn was finally in view, she slowed her pace and began to stroll to the restaurant, trying to catch her breath.

  As she got closer, she forced herself to look at the building with a critical eye. There were places where it needed some touching up. A fresh coat of paint. One of the windowsills needed to be replaced.

  The landscaping around the front door was a little shaggy, a little overgrown. It needed a bit of sprucing up, a little bit of tender loving care.

  Kind of like herself, she supposed. Now that she was twenty-five, she was tired of biding her time, waiting in vain for something new to happen.

  Perhaps it really was time to think about doing something different. Going somewhere new. For too long now she’d been everyone’s helper and assistant. She’d watched her best friends be courted, fall in love, and get married. Most were expecting their first babies. Some, like Josh and Gretta, already had two children.

  Yes, it seemed like everyone had moved forward in their lives except for her.

  The sad thing was that there was no need to stay in Sugarcreek any longer. She had plenty of money saved and even her parents’ blessing to go find her happiness.

  So why hadn’t she done anything yet? Was she afraid . . . or still holding out hope that a certain man would finally notice her and see that she was the perfect girl for him?

  That she’d actually been the perfect one for years now?

  Pushing aside that disturbing thought, she slipped inside the Sugarcreek Inn and prepared to offer her excuses to Jana Kent, the proprietor.

  Her boss was standing by a pair of bookshelves, unboxing more of the knickknacks she’d recently started selling in an attempt to drum up a bit more business and profit for the inn.

  Jana paused when she walked by. “Cutting it close today, Miriam.”

  Glancing up at the clock over the door, Miriam winced. It was ten after nine. Jana had long since given up on Miriam getting to work early or even on time. Now she merely hoped Miriam wouldn’t be too late. “I know. Sorry.”

  “What’s today’s excuse?” Humor lit Jana’s eyes, telling Miriam that while she might feel exasperated, she wasn’t mad.

  Usually, Miriam came up with an amusing story or fib. Over the years, earthquakes had erupted, washing machines had overflowed, ravenous dogs had invaded her yard.

  Today, however, her mind drew a complete blank. “Time simply got away from me this morning.”

  Jana looked almost disappointed. “That’s it?”

  Miriam shrugged weakly. “I’ll come up with a better excuse tomorrow, I’m sure of it.”

  “Miriam Zehr. You are one of my best employees and one of my hardest workers. You always offer to help other people, and you never mind staying late. Why is it so hard for you to get here on time?”

  There were all kinds of reasons. Miriam wasn’t a morning person. She seemed to always sleep in. She hated to get to work early so she waited until the last second to leave her house.

  Unfortunately, though, she feared it was her somewhat irrational way of rebelling against the continual routine of her life. Sometimes her frenetic morning journey to work was the biggest excitement of her day.

  Inching away, she mumbled, “I’ll go put on my apron and get to work.”

  “Thank you, Miriam.”

  Hurrying toward the back, Miriam scanned the tables. Quite a few were empty.

  And then she noticed He was there. Junior Beiler. All six-foot-two inches of brawn. Blond hair and perfection.

  Junior, the object of too many of her daydreams. The boy she’d had a crush on for as long as she could remember. The man she yearned would truly notice her.

  Miriam kept walking, trying not to look his way. Trying not to stare. But she did. And as she did, she noticed that he was staring right back at her. More important, she was sure that something like interest glinted in his blue eyes.

  Feeling her cheeks flush, she darted into the kitchen. But the moment the doors closed behind her, she let herself smile.

  Maybe today, at long last, would be different.

  THE MOMENT JUNIOR Beiler saw the kitchen doors swing shut, he grinned at Joe. “You were right, Miriam Zehr works here. I just saw her walk by.”

  Joe’s expression turned smug. “I told you she did.”

  “She just went into the kitchens.” Drumming his fingers on the table, he murmured, “I hope she comes out again soon.”

  Joe chuckled. “And when she does? Are you actually going to talk to her about what’s been on your mind?”

  “Absolutely.” Noticing that his buddy’s expression looked skeptical, he straightened his shoulders a bit. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Just about everything. You can’t simply go asking women about their best friends and expect to get information. It ain’t done, ya know.”

  “Why not?” It made perfect sense to him.

  “A woman isn’t going to give you information if she doesn’t know you.”

  Junior scoffed. As usual, Joe was making a big deal over nothing. “I’ve known Miriam for years. We both have, Joe.”

  “Jah, we went to shool with her, that’s true. And we’re all in the same church district. But let me ask you this, when was the last time you actually talked to her?”

  “I’m pretty sure I said hello to her at church last Sunday.”

  Joe tilted his head slightly. “Did you? Or did you walk right by like you usually do?”

  For the first time, Junior felt vaguely uncomfortable. He was one of eight kids, and he was sandwiched between two girls in his family. Because of that, he’d learned a thing or two about the female mind over the years. “I might have only thought about saying hello,” he said grudgingly.

  Joe looked triumphant. “See?”

  Okay, Joe probably had a point. But his inattentiveness didn’t mean he didn’t like Miriam. He just had never thought about her much.

  Until he realized she’d recently become good friends with Mary Kate Hershberger. Beautiful Mary Kate Hershberger, who had moved to Sugarcreek in August and had quickly caught his unwavering attention.

  Joe grabbed another hot biscuit from the basket on the table and began slathering it with peanut butter spread. “I still think you should get your sister Kaylene to introduce you. After all, Mary Kate is Kaylene’s teacher.”

  “Nee. Kaylene is having trouble in school.” Lowering his voice, he said, “Actually, I’m not certain Kaylene is all that fond of her new teacher.”

  “Don’t see why that matters.”

  “It does.” His youngest sister was eight years old and the apple of his eye. There was no way he was going to use litt
le Kaylene in order to get a date.

  “Why?”

  Luckily, the kitchen doors swung open again, and out came Miriam. She now had on a white apron over her dress, and was holding a coffeepot in her right hand. Seizing his chance, he turned his coffee cup right side up, waited until she was looking his way, and motioned her over.

  Joe raised his brows. “Impressive,” he muttered.

  When she got to their table, her cheeks were flushed. “Kaffi?”

  “Jah. For both of us.”

  After she’d filled both their cups, Joe gave him a little kick.

  Thinking quickly, Junior asked, “So, Miriam, how have you been?”

  She looked a bit startled by the question. “Me? I’ve been gut. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. It’s just that, well . . . I mean, I haven’t seen you around lately.”

  She looked at him curiously. “Where have you been looking?”

  “Nowhere. I mean, I guess I haven’t seen you anywhere but at gmay, at church. And here,” he added, feeling like a fool.

  Joe groaned as he took another bite of biscuit.

  “Why were you looking? Did you need something?” Miriam asked.

  His tongue was starting to feel like it was too big for his mouth. “Actually, ah . . . yes!” Seizing the opportunity, he added, “I’ve been wantin’ to talk to you about something.”

  She set the coffeepot right on the table. “You have?”

  “Yes. When do you get off work? Can I stop by?”

  “You want to come by my house? Tonight?” Her cheeks pinkened.

  “I do. May I come over?”

  “You may . . . if you’d like. I’ll be off work at four.”

  “Gut. I’ll stop over around six.”

  “Do you need my address?”

  “No, I know where you live. I’ll see you then.”

  Miriam picked up the coffeepot, smiled shyly, then walked on.

  When they were alone again, Junior picked up his coffee cup and took a fortifying sip. “See, Joe? That wasn’t so hard.”

  “It wasn’t so gut.”

  “Really?”

  Joe leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You, Junior, are an idiot.”