Amish Romance BOXED SET: Amish Days: Hope's Story

by Brenda Maxfield

  She tore it open and began reading.

  Our Hope, We miss you so much. I have to admit I’m a bit jealous of you having such an adventure, while I’m here doing most of your chores plus my own. Mamm and Dat send their love. Please don’t worry, but I have to share some news. Abram is really okay—

  Hope’s heart lurched to her throat, and her eyes grew wide.

  —but he broke his leg. Pretty bad. There was an accident with his road horse. I’m sorry I don’t know more. I asked his sister Mercy, and she said that the doctor hoped it would be fine in a couple months. There’s only a small chance some damage will be permanent. Abram can’t work right now. I’m sure he’ll write and explain everything, but I wanted to make sure you knew. Even though the two of you have had misunderstandings, I know you’re still sweet on him. Your sister, Mary.

  Hope sank to the couch and read the letter again. And then again.

  A broken leg? An accident with his road horse? Sprint? Abram was skilled with animals. What had happened? If he couldn’t work, how would he help bring in the harvest?

  And how would he be able to work on their house?

  Hope’s shoulders slumped. There would be no time. Would they have to postpone the wedding?

  Hope shook her head. Nee. Nee. She was being silly. They could still be married. Many newlywed couples lived with their parents until they got established. Jah, they could do that. She was sure Dat and Mamm would let them.

  Her thoughts ground to a halt.

  Sally and Jack were moving in. Where would she and Abram possibly fit into the house? There wasn’t enough room.

  They could stay with Abram’s family. Of course. That would work. But even as she put words to the thought, she knew Abram would never agree. The last years had been hard on his family. More than hard. He’d never add to their burden by bringing another person into the house, even if it was his wife.

  She jumped off the couch and began to pace. Her solid black shoes thumped across the floor as she moved from the living room to the kitchen and back. She could help get the house ready. She was strong and able. She could clean and patch walls and paint and work in the yard. And she could even help Abram with the bigger jobs. She could hand him boards and tools and…

  Her heart lifted. Of course, she could. She wasn’t helpless. Not by any means.

  She stopped short. What was she thinking? She wasn’t even in Hollybrook. She was here in Ohio where she would be for another few weeks.

  She could hardly help Abram long distance.

  And her Abram was hurt. She walked back to the bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed. Would he be all right? Would his leg heal completely?

  If they couldn’t get married this wedding season, they could get married the following year. And some even married out of season; although, Dat would probably never agree to it. She tried to convince herself that postponement wouldn’t matter, but a heavy sadness enveloped her. More than anything in her life, she wanted to marry Abram. She yearned to build a life with him—to have a family with him. Waiting another year was unthinkable.

  She folded her hands on top of the letter. All she wanted to do was go home. She bowed her head to pray.

  ****

  Sally stood with her hand on the door knob, ready to leave the house for the bus. Jack was behind her, his backpack hanging off his shoulder.

  “Are you going to tell us what’s wrong?” Sally snapped.

  “What do you mean?” Hope asked.

  “You’ve been weird.”

  “Sally, let’s go,” Jack said. They were his first words of the day, and Hope was surprised to hear them at all.

  Sally glared at him then turned her attention back to Hope. “Did you fall or something? Because this morning, it seems like you’re limping.”

  She strode to where Hope stood at the kitchen door.

  “Something’s wrong. You’re not the same.”

  Hope sighed. She’d done her best to act normally since she got the news of Abram’s accident. She’d prayed continually that his leg would heal properly. She’d prayed for grace and joy at staying in Ohio and serving her cousins.

  Evidently, she hadn’t done a very good job of concealing her heart.

  Sally frowned. “Are you going to tell us?”

  Jack stood next to the door, a black look on his face.

  “I had news from home,” Hope finally admitted.

  Sally stiffened. “And?”

  “My friend Abram was in an accident. He broke his leg. The doctor isn’t sure if it will heal right.”

  “Your friend?”

  Hope nodded.

  Sally grimaced and then shook her head. She studied Hope’s face. “I’m sixteen, Hope. And not stupid. He’s more than a friend, isn’t he?”

  Hope cast her eyes downward.

  “Okay. I get it. And you’re stuck here with us, right?”

  Hope shook her head. “Nee, nee, Sally. I’m glad to be here with you. You’re family.”

  Sally said nothing. Her brows drew together, and for a moment it looked like she might cry. Or yell. Hope wasn’t sure which.

  Instead, Sally turned and walked back to the door. “Come on, Jack,” she said.

  She opened the door, and they left without another word. Hope watched them go with a sense of failure rising in her chest. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have kept her big mouth closed.

  ****

  The day dragged on. Hope scrubbed the kitchen floor, even though it didn’t need it. She swept the front porch and the back patio. Twice. She wrote an encouraging letter to Abram, assuring him again that of course his leg would heal up good and proper. She stitched a few quilt pieces. And she made the best dinner possible, even managing to gather all the ingredients for a sugar cream pie.

  When the front door opened, the house smelled of stew and pie and homemade biscuits.

  “Wow, it smells great in here,” Sally exclaimed.

  Hope was relieved to see that both of them seemed in better spirits than when they’d left that morning.

  “Did you make a pie?” Sally asked.

  “Sugar cream. It’s my specialty,” Hope said. She bustled to the kitchen, getting the dishes on the table.

  “Can we talk to you?” Sally asked, her tone serious.

  Hope stopped moving and turned to examine Sally’s face. Maybe things hadn’t improved after all. She followed her back into the living room. Sally sat on the couch and patted the spot beside her for Jack. With a sigh of reluctance, Jack sat. Hope sank into the rocking chair opposite them.

  “Can you call your dad? Or do you have to write him?”

  Hope’s brows rose. What was this about? “Well, writing is easier. But I could call the phone shanty outside of Feed & Supply and someone would probably answer. But why? What’s wrong?”

  Sally had never looked so thin and vulnerable. Hope couldn’t imagine what she was thinking.

  “Jack and I were talking.”

  Hope waited for her to continue.

  “The gifted program. It’s been hard.” Sally looked at her brother, and he bit his lower lip. “Everybody stares at us, like they’re waiting for us to cry or act weird or have a nervous breakdown. They treat us like we’re sick or something. I expected it at first. I mean it only made sense right after it happened. But now? Even my two best friends are acting like jerks. No offense. I know they don’t mean to. And they know I’m leaving. So, I guess they’re cutting their losses.”

  She inhaled deeply and went on, “I thought it would stop. But it hasn’t. And the teacher has no clue. In fact, the teacher is pretty much a fool.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Hope said.

  “So I … I mean Jack and me, well, we might as well go to Hollybrook now.”

  Hope’s lips parted. She felt a flutter in her belly. “What? Now? Are you serious?”

  “We have to go anyway,” Sally said. She shrugged like it meant nothing, but her eyes betrayed her apprehension.

 
“Is this because of what I told you about Abram?” Hope asked.

  Sally lifted her chin. “Maybe a little.”

  Tears of gratitude clouded Hope’s eyes. The pure sweetness of her gesture left her speechless.

  Sally shoulders drooped, and her words rushed out in a torrent. “I know you want to go home, and it’s not good anymore here, Hope. I hate it. Mom is gone. Jack won’t talk. Mom is gone, Hope. Gone.”

  Her words ended in a sob. Hope sprang from her chair and rushed to her. She put her arms around Sally’s shaking body and held tight.

  “It’s going to be okay, Sally. Truly, it is. Gott will help you. He’ll help Jack. He’ll help all of us.” She crooned the words into Sally’s ear.

  She glanced over at Jack and saw his lips tremble and tears roll down his cheeks. She stretched out her arm and pulled him into their embrace. He didn’t return the hug, but he didn’t resist either.

  They stayed like that, huddled together, for the longest time—as if they were the only three people in the world right then. Finally, their tears stopped and the only sound in the room was soft sniffling.

  Sally pulled her head back and rubbed at her eyes. Hope let go of them both and squatted on the floor before them.

  “Can we go, Hope?” Sally asked. “Can we go to Indiana right away?”

  Hope swallowed past the lump in her throat and wiped her damp cheeks. She nodded. “Jah. I’ll contact Dat. I’ll explain to him. I’ll tell him all you’ve told me. He’ll figure out what to do.”

  She looked at Jack’s swollen eyes. “Are you okay with this, Jack?”

  He gave a slow, barely perceptible nod.

  Hope stood. “All right, then. We’ll get it worked out.”

  “And Hope, you can see Abram.” Sally gave a sharp intake of breath and then smiled. “That will be good, right?”

  A warm glow flowed through Hope, and she bent over to squeeze her cousin’s hand. “Jah, Sally. That will be good.”

  www.brendamaxfield.com

  Amish Days

  Abram's Bride

  An Amish Short Story Romance

  byBrenda Maxfield

  Copyright © 2015 Tica House Publishing All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

  © Cover Art by Ardelean Emanuela

  One

  But without faith [it is] impossible to please [him]: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and [that] he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.

  Hebrews 11:6 (King James Version)

  Hope pressed her face against the van window, and her honey-brown eyes took in the harvest-ready fields racing by like falling stars. Her heart fluttered with pleasure at being back in Indiana. She’d been gone just over a month, but it had dragged by like maple syrup.

  Beside her, sixteen-year-old Sally and fourteen-year-old Jack sat like sticks, their faces betraying none of what had to be a jumbled mess of emotions. Hope turned to them.

  “Are you doing all right?” she asked softly. Over the past weeks, her affection had grown for these two cousins—cousins she hadn’t even known existed only a short while before.

  Sally sucked in a jagged breath and attempted a smile. Hope put her hand over Sally’s clenched fist and gave a gentle squeeze. “It’s going to be all right. Everything will be fine.”

  She leaned around Sally to look at Jack. Moisture hovered in his eyes, and the set of his lips was grim.

  “Jack?” Hope’s voice was quiet.

  His eyes moved, and he stared at her.

  “You’ll like my little sister, Ann. Did I tell you she has a puppy? Do you like dogs?”

  He shrugged. Hope started to take her hand from Sally’s, but Sally grabbed it back and held on.

  “I always wanted to know more about the Amish.” Sally’s voice shook. “But never planned to learn like this. You know, without Mom.”

  Hope’s face clouded with sympathy. Had Sally and Jack’s mom lived, they wouldn’t be moving to her Amish community. Hope still struggled to believe she’d had an unknown aunt—an aunt her own mother had kept a tight-knuckled secret.

  Hope pondered Sally’s words. Somehow she doubted Sally’s mother would have shared anything Amish with her.

  The subject of the unknown aunt’s split from the family was confusing at best. But now wasn’t the time to think further on it, for the Mennonite driver had pulled onto their road. Hope’s mind shifted to Abram, her fiancé—the one her family knew nothing about. Her heart fluttered at the thought of his tall good looks, his broad shoulders, and the way his lips pressed into a stubborn line when he wouldn’t change his mind about something.

  Then her brow creased, and his cherished image gave way to the now constant worry squirming through her belly. While she was gone, Abram had been hurt, his leg broken. A serious break, too; the doctor wasn’t sure it would completely heal. In Abram’s last letter, he’d said he would need physical therapy, and even that didn’t guarantee a full recovery.

  Hope exhaled slowly, pressed her face against the window, and whispered a prayer into the glass. Abram had to be all right. Wedding season was nearly upon them, and they planned to be published and married by mid-November.

  Abram had planned to get his newly purchased farm ready while she was in Ohio. He was to have fixed up the house and gotten furniture—all the while helping his dat prepare and bring in the harvest. Now with his broken leg, she wondered how any of it could possibly come together.

  Hope couldn’t bear the thought of postponing their wedding. She’d waited so long for Abram to share his intentions and reveal his plan to her. She remembered only too well the agonizing days of wondering if he was going to leave their community and live with the Englisch.

  How those uncertain days had tried her faith. She’d called on God time and time again to help her. Hebrews 11:1 ran through her mind. Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. God had helped her not only believe Him but believe all things would turn out for the good as the scripture promised.

  She hugged the knowledge of her engagement to herself. Following Amish tradition, she and Abram hadn’t shared their plans with anyone. She hadn’t intended for her new cousin Sally to guess that she shared much more than a friendship with Abram. In Ohio, after Hope had heard about Abram’s accident, she’d done a poor job of hiding her worry, and it hadn’t taken much for Sally to put it together.

  “Here we are,” the driver said, nodding his balding head. “I’ll help with your luggage.”

  Hope’s gaze latched onto the friendly two-story house where she had spent nearly every day of her nineteen years, and her heart warmed at the sight of it. The expansive porch with its white rocking chairs and cozy benches offered her a kind and familiar welcome. She gazed at the roses lining the walk and noted they were freshly trimmed—mamm’s work for sure.

  “We’re home,” she said with heartfelt cheer. She turned at her cousins. “Your new home, too.”

  The screen door banged open, and her family poured out like bustling chicks.

  “You’re here!” Hope’s little sister Ann ran to meet them with puppy Apple bouncing at her heels.

  Mamm stood a bit back, which was odd for her. She wore a look of reticence, and her eyes were weary. Aunt Ruth, also, seemed strangely awkward. But then Hope saw her straighten her spine and march toward Sally and Jack.

  “Welcome, children. I’m your Aunt Ruth. We’re so glad you’re here.” Her smile appeared genuine, and she quickly shepherded them up to the porch.

  Dat stayed back to finish business with the driver. Mary grabbed Hope’s arm and pulled her aside.

  “I’m so glad you’re home. What are they like?”

  “Shhh. They’re not deaf. But they’re fine—nice. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

  Ann jabbered on and on about Apple, holding the squirmin
g bundle up to Jack, who gave a barely-perceptible nod in greeting.

  “You’ll love Apple!” Ann exclaimed. “And we have horses and two cows and three barn cats and lots of chickens.”

  Ann paused to laugh. “Plus we have raccoons and coyotes and buzzards and mice and snakes—”

  Dat joined the family and held up his hand. “Enough, Ann. Let them catch their breath.”

  Ann leaned close to Jack, as if conspiring. “But those last animals aren’t on purpose!”

  Jack’s lips actually parted in a half-smile then, and Hope’s spirits rose. Maybe it was going to be all right after all. She sent up a quick prayer of thanks.

  They clambered into the dining room as Mamm went to fetch the last of the steaming serving bowls. “We’ll eat first and then give you young people a bit of a tour, let you get your bearings.”

  Two more spots had been added to the table. The long wooden surface had supported many a meal with crowds far bigger than this. But from then on, eight would be the normal number of place settings.

  Dat bowed his head. “Let’s have a prayer.”

  Everyone bowed their heads in complete silence. Hope wondered what Sally and Jack were thinking of the silent blessing. In Ohio, she had prayed alone when she was with them. Now she wondered whether she had done a disservice to both God and her new cousins by not urging them to join her.

  Dat concluded the silence by exhaling, and they all said amen. Ruth started the bowl of green beans to her left. Sally’s eyes darted around the table as if swallowing every last detail. Jack kept his gaze down, only looking up when passed a dish.

  Sally put down her fork. “Thank you for taking us in.”

  Everyone grew still. Hope touched Sally’s arm and smiled.

  Ann giggled. “Well, of course we did. You’re our cousins, aren’t you?”

  The soft laughter and general agreement that followed seemed to put everyone at ease. Even Mary, who could be sour as a green apple, joined in.

  Hope ate quickly, hoping she could figure out a way to see Abram soon. After supper, she jumped up to help Mary clear the dishes. When they were out of earshot, she forced her voice to be casual and asked, “Have you seen Abram? How is he doing?”