An Amish Love Read online

  AN AMISH LOVE

  KELLY LONG

  KATHLEEN FULLER

  BETH WISEMAN

  © 2010 Kelly Long, Kathleen Fuller, and 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].

  Scripture quotations taken from the King James Version.

  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

  Long, Kelly.

  An Amish love : / Kelly Long, Kathleen Fuller, Beth Wiseman.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-1-59554-875-7 (pbk. : alk. paper)

  1. Amish—Fiction. 2. Christian fiction, American. 3. Love stories, American.

  I. Fuller, Kathleen. II. Wiseman, Beth, 1962– III. Title.

  PS648.A45L66 2010

  813'.6—dc22

  2010037315

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 11 12 13 14 RRD 5 4 3 2 1

  Kelly: For my husband, Scott, the husband of my youth and now,

  still, twenty-four years later, my love of all time

  Kathy: To my daughter, Sydney, I love you!

  Beth: To my sisters—Laurie, Valarie, Melody, and Dawn

  GLOSSARY

  ab im kopp: off in the head, crazy

  aenti: aunt

  aldi: girlfriend

  appeditlich: delicious

  bruder: brother

  bu: boy

  daadi: grandfather

  daag: day

  daed: dad

  danki: thanks

  Derr Herr: God

  dochder: daughter

  dumm: dumb

  dummkopf: dummy

  Englisch: a non-Amish person

  familye: family

  frau: wife, Mrs.

  freind: friend

  geh: go

  grosskinner: grandchildren

  guder mariye: good morning

  gut: good

  hatt: hard

  haus: house

  kapp: prayer covering or cap

  kinn, kinner: child, children

  kumme: come

  lieb: love

  maed, maedel: girls, girl

  mami, mamm: mom

  mammi: grandmother

  mann: man

  mei: my

  meiding: shunning

  mutter: mother

  narrisch: crazy

  nee: no

  nix: nothing

  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 when a teenager turns

  sixteen years old

  schwester: sister

  sehr gut: very good

  sohn: son

  vatter: father

  ya: yes

  CONTENTS

  A MARRIAGE OF THE HEART

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  WHAT THE HEART SEES

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  HEALING HEARTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  AN AMISH LOVE

  AMISH RECIPES

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  A MARRIAGE

  OF THE HEART

  by KELLY LONG

  CHAPTER ONE

  * * *

  “WHAT DID HE DO?”

  Abigail Kauffman clutched her hands together and took a deep breath of the cool fall air that drifted in through the open kitchen window. Her father’s repeated question and ominous tone had her doubting her actions. But once she began a plan, she usually stuck with it.

  “I said . . . he . . . well . . . just made me feel a little uncomfortable with the way he was kissing me . . . and touching . . . and I . . .”

  Her father’s face turned beet red. “I–I will . . . have words with him.”

  He clenched and unclenched his heavy hands, and Abigail felt a surge of alarm and deeper indecision.

  “Father . . . it was nothing, in truth.”

  “I will have words with the bishop and that—boy, and then he’ll marry you.”

  Abigail’s eyes widened, the swiftness of her impulsive plan ringing in her ears. “Marry me? But I don’t love him!”

  Her father regarded her with flashing eyes. “Love has nothing to do with marriage. We will go to the bishop and Dr. Knepp, and we will see this solved before morning.” He drew a shaky breath. “When I think of that boy, just baptized today, just accepted into the community, and then . . . daring to trespass upon your honor . . . Go upstairs and dress in blue. I will bring the buggy round. Hurry!”

  Abigail turned and fled up the steps. “Dress in blue.” The color for marrying. She gained her small bedroom and slammed the door closed behind her, leaning upon its heavy wooden support. She saw herself in her bureau mirror, her cheeks flushed, her kapp askew upon her white-gold hair. She wondered for a strange moment what a mother might say right now, what her mother, whom she’d lost at age five, would say in this situation. Her heart pounded in her chest. This situation . . .

  In truth, Joseph Lambert, with his lean, dark good looks and earnest eyes behind glasses, had done little more than speak to her .
. . and annoy her. She’d just wanted to pay him back a bit for his casual dismissal of her usually touted beauty . . . and now she was going to have to face his mocking scorn. For she had no doubt he’d laugh outright at the suggestion of any impropriety between the two of them. They’d only been a few dozen feet from where everyone was gathered for the after-service meal, and it would be a bold young man indeed who’d risk anything, let alone steal intimate kisses . . .

  But her father had believed her . . . or he’d believed the worst of Joseph Lambert, at any rate. She snatched a blue dress from a nail on the wall and changed with haste. She might as well get it over with, she thought with grim practicality. And yet there was one small part of her that wished things might be different, that wished she might truly be on her way to a marriage that would allow her to escape Solomon Kauffman’s rule and cold distance.

  She hurried back down the stairs and went outside to where the buggy waited. Her father started the horse before she barely had her seat, and as they gathered speed she tried to marshal her thoughts. She saw her life as it had been ever since she could remember . . . cold, lonely, devoid of love and even simple conversation. Somehow, the Englisch world outside seemed so much less austere and confining, so much less full of unspoken pain.

  She let herself escape for a moment by imagining marriage to Joseph Lambert. Not only would it get her out from under her father’s thumb, but she would be able to keep house, or not keep it, any way she pleased. They wouldn’t have to live with her father—at the picnic she’d heard Dr. Knepp, the popular Englisch physician, say something about making his barn over into an apartment for Joseph. It would be just as easy to fit two as it would one. She didn’t take up that much space. Her possessions were scant. She’d learned how to make two blouses last for a season and the secrets of turning out old dresses to look new again.

  No, she’d be little bother to Joseph Lambert. She chewed a delicate fingertip in her nervousness. It might work out well, the more she thought about it . . .

  JOSEPH LAMBERT EASED A FINGER IN BETWEEN HIS SUSPENDER and white shirt and drew a breath of satisfaction at the comfort of the simple Amish clothing. He was tired, exhausted from the day and its happenings, but deeply happy. He glanced around the small barn that Dr. and Mrs. Knepp had done over for him and shook his head at the kindly generosity of the couple. To have a bed with clean sheets and a handmade quilt was more than he could have dreamed of in the past years—but to have his own space, his own home, was a gift from the Lord. He lay down in the bed and stared up at the wooden slat ceiling.

  The faces of the people he’d been introduced and reintroduced to that day spun in a pleasant blur in his mind. Even the beautiful face of Abigail Kauffman was a delight to recall, though he knew he’d frustrated her—and deliberately so. She was too pretty for her own good, he thought with a smile, remembering their brief conversation near an old oak tree in the orange and red glory of early autumn. He’d had to thread his way through a throng of young admirers to reach the girl as she perched in the refuge of the tree, but the other boys had soon melted away under his penetrating look. But when he’d not shown the apparently expected verbal homage to her beauty, all of her pretense disappeared. He’d been thoroughly charmed by her indignation. But he knew that a girl like Abigail Kauffman was far beyond his reach, especially with a past like his . . .

  He sighed and, dismissing the day from his mind, began to pray, thanking Derr Herr for all that he’d been given and asking for clarity of direction for the future.

  He’d just fallen into the most restful sleep he’d had in days when a furious pounding on the barn door startled him awake. He grabbed for his glasses.

  “Kumme!” he cried, scrambling to button his shirt, thinking it must be some urgent matter for the doctor. Instead, once he managed to focus, he saw Bishop Ebersol and another giant of a man crowd into his small living space, followed by the doctor and his wife.

  The giant strode toward him, clenching and unclenching ham-like fists. “Scoundrel!” The huge man growled the word.

  Who is he? Joseph frantically sifted through the identities of people he’d met that day.

  “Now, now, Solomon. Let the boy have a breath.” The bishop inserted himself between Joseph and the larger man.

  “A breath? A breath is not what he wanted to have today—”

  “Everybody ease off!” Dr. Knepp snapped, and there was a brief break in the tension.

  “What’s wrong?” Joseph asked.

  The bishop cleared his throat. “Son, I just welcomed you back into the community this afternoon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well then, what were you doing dallying with Abigail Kauffman not half an hour later?”

  “What? Dally—Abigail Kauffman?” Joseph suddenly recognized the strapping man as Abigail’s irate father and took an automatic step backward.

  “That’s right . . . try and run!” Mr. Kauffman roared.

  Dr. Knepp snorted. “Solomon, where exactly will the boy go in two feet of space and his back to the wall? Just let him explain.”

  Joseph knew by instinct that a simple denial of any behavior was not going to satisfy Mr. Kauffman. He’d had to defend himself enough in the past to recognize that there were consequences at stake here, and he didn’t like to think where they might lead.

  “We talked a little—that’s all,” he exclaimed.

  Mr. Kauffman exploded. “At least be man enough to admit that you dishonored her with your kisses and your hands!”

  Joseph’s mind whirled. What had the girl been saying? And suddenly, a thought came to him—clear and resonant. Here was a provision from the Lord to have a girl like Abigail Kauffman in his life. It didn’t matter that she’d obviously lied; she was young. Perhaps her father had forced her into it . . .

  In any case, his impulsive nature took over. To deny the claim would mean the scorn and possible dismissal of his place in the community, something he’d worked too long and too hard to reclaim. And even though the little miss probably had a reputation for being wild, a woman’s word, her honor, would always be more valuable than a newcomer’s. To admit to the accusations might mean recompense as well, but perhaps not as bad, not in the long run anyway. And he’d have the beautiful Miss Kauffman eating out of his hand for defending her honor.

  He lifted his head and met Mr. Kauffman’s blazing eyes. “All right. I was wrong. I behaved . . . poorly with Miss Kauffman. I apologize.”

  “There. He admits to it. I’ll get Abigail from the buggy. You can perform the ceremony here.”

  “What?” Joseph and Mrs. Knepp spoke in unison.

  Mr. Kauffman’s lips quivered, and for an instant Joseph thought he might burst into tears. “The wedding ceremony. The bishop will do it here, now. When I think of what Abigail must have been feeling . . .” He swiped at his forehead with a rumpled handkerchief.

  “Solomon, let Joseph explain,” Mrs. Knepp urged.

  “Nee . . . nee . . . I will see her done right by—” He broke off and tightened his massive jaw. “To think it’s come to this for my girl.” The big man turned and left the barn.

  Joseph resisted the urge to speak. He hadn’t expected a marriage . . . a courtship maybe, but a wedding? “Do I have a choice?” he finally asked the bishop.

  “Not if you want to stay. Nee. Mr. Kauffman will go to the community to defend what he thinks is right.”

  Joseph nodded and ran his hands through his hair. Things could be worse; he could have been denied a chance to come back. A marriage seemed a worthy price for what he’d received that morning. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

  Dr. Knepp spoke with low urgency. “Joseph, I know you didn’t touch her. You didn’t have time, and you were in plain view. Tell the truth—the deacons will vote—”

  “Nee . . . I’ll not take the risk. It means everything to me to be back here, to find and keep a place, a home . . .”

  Mr. Kauffman was sliding the barn door back open.


  “Seth, do something,” Mrs. Knepp begged in a whisper.

  Dr. Knepp shrugged his shoulders. “The boy agrees.”

  “As well he might,” Mr. Kauffman growled. He pulled Abigail into the room behind him. She was dressed in blue, and she kept her eyes downward.

  Joseph considered the girl as the faces of the deacons flashed behind his eyes. He wondered for a moment how they would vote before he snapped back to awareness as the bishop joined his hands with Abigail’s.

  She wouldn’t look at him. Maybe she was being driven to this. The thought gave him pause; she should have the right to choose.

  “Do you want this?” Joseph asked, speaking to the top of her kapp.

  She gazed up at him then. Her blue eyes were dead-steady calm. He’d seen eyes like those behind the wrong end of a gun, and now he wondered if she’d had a forceful hand in the matter herself.

  “Ya,” she murmured, dropping her gaze once more.

  Her hands were ice cold though, and he rubbed his thumbs around the outside of her fingers as he listened to the bishop speak in High German. It was like a dream, really. The light from the lamp Mrs. Knepp held high threw strange shadows across the corners of the room and made crouching things out of chairs and the table.

  He was asked the simple, life-binding questions that would make Abigail Kauffman his wife, and his answers were steady—as were hers. And then it was over.

  It seemed anticlimactic. There was no kiss or hug of goodwill between the couple. And once he saw his job done, Mr. Kauffman seemed to shrivel to a shell of a man whom the bishop had to pat on the back for reassurance.

  Joseph let go of her hands and finished buttoning his shirt, ignoring the way Abigail’s eyes strayed to his chest. He tensed his jaw and walked over to his new father-in-law.

  “Mr. Kauffman—it’s my plan to be a help and not a hindrance to you all of my days. I know you farm alone with some hired help. You won’t need as much help anymore. I need the work, and I’m good at it. Abigail and I will take up living with you in the morning, with your permission, of course.”

  “Ya,” the older man said, clearly surprised. “Ya, that would be gut; I would miss Abigail about.”