Plain Promise Read online

  Praise for Beth Wiseman’s

  Daughters of the Promise series

  “Plain Promise is Beth Wiseman’s masterpiece. It’s the story of two unlikely friends’ journey toward faith and love. This heart-warming novel brings readers hope and paints a beautiful, authentic portrait of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Her characters are so real that they feel like old friends. Once you open the book, you won’t put it down until you’ve reached the last page.”

  — Amy Clipston,

  best-selling author

  of A Gift of Grace

  “Beth Wiseman’s Plain Pursuit is a charming work of fiction that beautifully paints the quaint picture of the simple ways of the Amish lifestyle. This novel, like its predecessor, Plain Perfect, really brings home a message of family devotion. This is wholesome entertainment that I can effortlessly recommend without any reservation. What a sweet romantic story.”

  — word-up-studies.blogspot.

  com

  “Wiseman’s Christian romance novel is just ‘plain’ good.”

  — Fayette County Record,

  La Grange, Texas regarding

  Plain Perfect

  “Plain Pursuit’s story line will hit you in the heart almost from page one. As you keep going deeper into the story, it ceases being a “story” and begins to feel like you are an active participant in a group of people’s lives. Learning the history of shunning in the Amish world and trying to justify what they believe in your world where anything would be done to save a child’s life. When you witness where these two worlds collide, there is frustration, awe, and tears. [It] will take you from the thrills of a new love as Noah and Carley explore each other’s pasts together, to the bottom of despair as the life of a child hangs by a thread.”

  — The Romance Readers

  Connection

  “I was kind of dreading reading yet another Amish novel as not too many of the more recently published ones measure up to Beverly Lewis or Wanda Brunstetter. However, Plain Perfect is the exception rather than the rule. And I couldn’t help but keep reading the well crafted story. The characters could be real, with real life struggles, and even the Amish had issues to work through.”

  — Laura V. Hilton,

  lighthouse-academy.

  blogspot.com

  “Beth Wiseman gives the reader a delightful glimpse into the life of [the] Amish [in Plain Perfect]. [Her] writing is truly inspired.”

  — Schulenburg Sticker,

  Schulenburg, Texas

  “The importance of finding peace and acceptance, especially within oneself, is a central theme in this book, the second in Wiseman’s Daughters of the Promise series. Well-defined characters and story make for an enjoyable read.”

  — Romantic Times regarding

  Plain Pursuit

  “[A] touching, heartwarming story. Wiseman does a particularly great job of dealing with shunning, a controversial Amish practice that seems cruel and unnecessary to outsiders . . . If you’re a fan of Amish fiction, don’t miss Plain Pursuit!”

  — Kathy Fuller,

  author of A Man of His Word

  “[Plain Pursuit is] a well crafted story with fully drawn characters and has nice pacing.”

  — LibraryThing.com

  Plain Promise

  Other Books By Beth Wiseman Include:

  Plain Perfect

  Plain Pursuit

  An Amish Christmas

  (Contributors: Beth Wiseman, Kathleen Fuller, and Barbara Cameron)

  Plain Promise

  A Daughters of the Promise Novel

  BETH WISEMAN

  © 2009 by Beth Wiseman

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Wiseman, Beth, 1962–

  Plain promise : a Daughters of the promise novel / Beth Wiseman.

  p. cm. — (Daughters of the promise)

  ISBN 978-1-59554-720-0 (pbk.)

  1. Amish--Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3623.I83P576 2009

  813'.6—dc22

  2009027371

  Printed in the United States of America

  09 10 11 12 13 RRD 5 4 3 2 1

  To Rene Simpson, my dear friend who refuses to

  settle for anything less than true love.

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  Reading Group Guide

  Amish Recipes

  Acknowledgments

  Pennsylvania Dutch Glossary

  ab im kopp: off in the head

  ach: oh

  baremlich: terrible

  boppli: baby

  daadi: grandfather

  daed: dad

  daadi haus: a separate dwelling built for aging parents

  danki: thank you

  Die Botschaft: a weekly newspaper serving Old Order Amish communities everywhere

  Em Gott Sei Friede: God’s peace

  Englisch or Englischer: a non-Amish person

  fraa: wife

  guder mariye: good morning

  gut: good

  haus: house

  kaffi: coffee

  kalt: cold

  kapp: a prayer covering or cap

  kinner: children or grandchildren

  kinskind: grandchild

  lieb: love

  mamm: mom

  mei: my

  naerfich: nervous

  narrisch: crazy, insane

  Ordnung: the written and unwritten rules of the Amish; the understood behavior by which the Amish are expected to live, passed down from generation to generation. Most Amish know the rules by heart.

  Pennsylvania Deitsch: Pennsylvania German, the language most commonly used by the Amish

  rumschpringe: running-around period that begins when a teenager turns sixteen years old and ends when he or she is baptized into the Amish faith

  schee: pretty

  wedder: weather

  wunderbaar: wonderful

  ya: yes

  1

  THE DEN IN THE OLD FARMHOUSE WAS THE COZIEST room in the house, but a nip still hung in the air. Sadie pulled her sweater from the rack on the wall and tossed another log onto the fire, orange sparks shimmying up the chimney. She walked to the window, raised the green blind, and looked toward the guest cottage about a hundred feet away. She couldn’t help but recall the hours she and Ben had spent restoring it five years ago, painting the whitewashed walls, installing carpet, and making it fit for use by the Englisch.

  Sadie was glad when Bishop Ebersol allowed her to furnish the cottage with electricity
last year for use as a rental property. Her current renter had come all the way from Los Angeles, his long, sleek automobile now crowding the inside of her barn. But she was grateful for the income. It had been difficult to make ends meet with Ben gone, though her Old Order Amish community never let her go without.

  This time of year, men in the district made sure she had plenty of firewood and kept the snow cleared from her driveway. In the spring and summer, the womenfolk kept her supplied with fresh peas and corn from the family crops, but Sadie, a fit woman at age thirty, kept a small garden on her own. She grew tomatoes, peppers, strawberries, melons, and the like—produce easy to tend. In the fall, her neighbors brought her lots of potatoes. She also had plenty of meat stored in a locker in town, thanks to her best friend, Lillian Stoltzfus, and Lillian’s husband, Samuel.

  Her shop out front gave her a bit more income. She sold handmade Amish goods that fared well with the tourists. Other women in the district added their crafts to Sadie’s, and they took turns tending the store, splitting the profits among them. She turned her head around and checked the clock on the mantel. Nearly seven. She straightened up, tucked loose red ringlets beneath her kapp, and bowed her head.

  After she thanked the Lord for the blessings of this new day, she grabbed her black cape, bonnet, and gloves. Then she pulled on her calf-high black boots and braced herself for a blast of arctic air. She took a deep breath, swung the door wide, and closed it quickly behind her—gelid wind stinging her cheeks like a thousand tiny needles.

  A frosty mix of sleet and snow dusted her cape as she made her trek across the front yard to the shop. How fortunate she was that Ben’s old workshop was near the road and visible to tourists. She had cried when she’d given away her husband’s tools and turned his favorite place into the shop, but her friends had worked by her side to transform the old building. Then, just two months ago, they opened Treasures of the Heart.

  She glanced around at the snow-covered pastures, visions of Ben tending the land still fresh in her mind. Less painful, but still there. It had been four years since the Englisch car had sped around a corner of Black Horse Road and into Ben’s buggy. She would never forget their crates of fresh vegetables strewn across the road, patches of red, green, and yellow dotting the black asphalt. She envisioned the toppled buggy, their injured horse, who would later have to be put down, and her Ben . . .

  When she’d heard the commotion that day, she had run down Black Horse Road faster than she knew her legs could carry her. Jacob King was squatting beside Ben when she arrived, and she knew by the expression on Jacob’s face that her Ben was gone.

  A glimpse of movement to her right pulled her back to the present. She looked toward the cottage and saw her renter, Kade Saunders, retrieving wood from where she had placed it on the front porch. He was sparsely clothed for such weather, denim pants and a short-sleeved, white T-shirt. Sadie watched him hurriedly scoop two logs into his arms, then drop one before making it to the front door.

  She heard him grunt loudly and say something that sounded like cursing. She wasn’t sure, but it stopped her in her tracks. She watched him walk backward into the house, cradling the logs in his arms. She couldn’t see his expression, but she waved anyway. He didn’t wave back. Of course, his arms were full. He kicked the door shut and was out of sight. It was the first time she’d seen the man since he’d arrived three days ago.

  She tucked her head to avoid the thickening snowfall and continued toward the shop. It was hard not to wonder what Kade Saunders was doing in Lancaster County for three months, so far from where he lived in California. When he had stopped by to pick up the key, he hadn’t looked prepared for the twelve-degree weather—denim breeches, a black overcoat, and white running shoes not fit for two feet of snow. And the man didn’t have a head covering. His wavy, dark hair glistened with icy moisture, and his hazel eyes shone with irritation. Shivering as he spoke, he had declined the maid service included in the rental cost but requested that his automobile be protected from the wintry elements. She could see it through the open barn doors.

  She rubbed her hands together and recalled the phone call from Mr. Saunders’s personal assistant. The woman requested the one-bedroom cottage January through March for Mr. Saunders, but only after insisting that his privacy be respected during his stay. Sadie had hesitated. Her previous renters had been couples and families. How would it look for a single man to be occupying the same property as Sadie for three months, even if they were under separate roofs? Would the bishop be displeased?

  As if sensing Sadie’s concerns, the assistant said, “Mr. Saunders is quite well-known, and I can provide you with any references you might need.”

  The woman also asked that the refrigerator be stocked weekly. Sadie’s normal rental package didn’t include groceries, but Mr. Saunders’s employee assured Sadie that cost was of no concern. The fee they’d agreed upon caused Sadie to gasp, but she agreed, grateful for the additional income during the off-season.

  Sadie learned that actually finding the products Mr. Saunders desired was a challenge. She’d never heard of Gruyère cheese, for example, so she substituted Gouda cheese instead. His exhausting list of flavored coffees, organic breakfast cereals, and gourmet pastries were also frustrating.

  She did the best she could and also threw in some extras. He was, after all, in Paradise, Pennsylvania—the heart of Lancaster County. Wouldn’t he want to try Amish favorites, like shoofly pie and chowchow? She provided these for him in an attempt to make up for the items she couldn’t find. She’d also prepared him a hearty batch of tapioca pudding, along with a loaf of homemade bread, a meat loaf, and zucchini casserole, and had also included a few jellies and jams she had canned last summer.

  But even Mr. Saunders couldn’t distract her from thinking about her forthcoming visit from Milo Troyer, her Amish friend from Stephenville, Texas. They had been writing letters for over two years, and he called Sadie every Tuesday night at eight o’clock. They talked for fifteen minutes, a cold fifteen minutes out in the barn this time of year, but she was thankful that the bishop allowed telephones in the barn these days, a luxury that would have been unheard-of in years past. Sadie looked forward to Milo’s call all week long, and this spring he would be riding on a bus from Texas all the way to Lancaster County. They decided he would stay with her friends Ivan and Katie Ann for his two-week visit.

  With pictures forbidden, she hadn’t a clue what he looked like, except what he told her. He was tall and slender, like she was, with dark hair and the customary beard after marriage. His wife died shortly after Ben, and Sadie’s cousin had introduced them via mail.

  His looks were of no concern though. Milo’s heart spoke to her in a way she didn’t think possible after Ben died. He understood the grief of losing a spouse, and their hours of consoling each other had grown from friendship into much more. She knew it was God’s will for her to move on; it was customary in their community to quickly remarry. But she’d been a widow for four years, and there were no options for remarriage. Perhaps she’d been too picky, but she refused to settle for anything less than something comparable to the love she’d shared with Ben.

  She could tell by Milo’s letters and phone calls that they would be a good match, and her desire was to begin her life with Milo soon. Milo’s correspondence was always upbeat, kind, and filled with hope for the future. He was a hard worker, like Sadie, and family was his top priority. Perhaps they would have the children that she and Ben never did, for reasons the natural doctor in town couldn’t seem to explain.

  She entered the gift shop, went straight to the gas heaters, and lit them both. Only the cottage had electricity. It’d be cause for a shunning if she connected to the outside world when it wasn’t necessary or approved by the bishop. She rolled up the green blinds in each of the four windows. The sun was just starting to rise, giving only a hint of light, just enough for her to attach price tags to some of the quilted pot holders she’d finished the night before. Fridays were
usually good sale days, even in the off-season.

  If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never understand why the Englisch found their way of life so interesting. With less farmland and bigger families, many in her community worked outside the home; it had become a way of life. She felt blessed not to have to travel farther than her own front yard.

  The bell on the front door chimed, and Sadie turned to see her friend Lillian walk in. Lillian’s mother, Sarah Jane, followed behind her. Lillian and her mother now shared a close relationship. But it hadn’t always been that way. Sarah Jane had left the Amish community when she was a young girl of eighteen, and she had protested when Lillian left to come live with her grandparents. But after a few months, Sarah Jane surprised everyone, returning to Lancaster County and being baptized into the faith alongside her daughter. Then when Lillian married Samuel Stoltzfus, a widower in the community with a son named David, Sarah Jane had made her home with her father.

  Lillian hung her cape on the stand inside the door. “Whose Mercedes-Benz?”

  Sadie ignored the question. She had a hunch the less they all knew about her mysterious guest, the better. “Where’s Anna?” she asked instead. Lillian usually brought her daughter, a precious bundle who wasn’t much over a year old.

  “Anna is with Samuel’s sister, Mary Ellen,” Lillian answered. She rubbed her expanding belly.

  Sadie noticed the gesture. “How are you feeling? Are you still having morning sickness?”

  “No more morning sickness.” Lillian moved toward the back of the shop and peered out of the window toward the barn. “That’s a very expensive car,” she said. “Who does it belong to?”

  “Kade Saunders.” Sadie joined Lillian at the window while Sarah Jane took over pinning price tags on various items. “I don’t know much about him. His personal assistant told me he’s from Los Angeles. I reckon it’s gut to have a renter this time of year. These harsh winters tend to keep people away.” A tinge of cold air seeped in from outside when her face neared the window. “He’s leasing the place for three months.”