Second chances come at the most unexpected times...

  Widow Laura Beth Yoder longs for a family of her own. So much so that she’s preparing to leave the sleepy Amish town she calls home to find love. But a terrible storm washes out the creek, forcing her to wade in and save the life of an Englisch man and his adorable infant son. As they recover at the farm, the baby brings sunshine and joy, while the handsome outsider is filled with shadows...and secrets.

  Joshua King owes his life and his son’s to Laura Beth. Still, lingering at her farm is out of the question. He must fulfill a promise he made to his estranged wife on her deathbed: to deliver their son to his Amish in-laws. With his dark past, Joshua has no other choice. But his plans never took this sweet and surprising Amish widow into account. She just might be his second chance at happiness...and love.

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the Amish community of Cedar Grove. This fictional town was inspired by the Amish community of Mount Ida in northeastern Kansas. When people think of the Amish, they imagine settlements in Pennsylvania, Ohio or Indiana, not Kansas. We have only a few settlements out here, but the Amish presence is growing. Although every Amish community has their differences, the difference in Kansas is striking.

  Here they farm with tractors instead of horses and can drive a car for work, but they cannot own one. The trip to church must be in a horse-drawn buggy, but they can go to the grocery store on a tractor. They farm the same way their non-Amish neighbors do. It is their main occupation. You won’t find quilt shops or furniture stores with Amish-made goods. You may find Amish women selling homemade breads, jams and jellies at the farmers markets and roadside stands, but Amish tourism hasn’t yet taken hold in Mount Ida.

  Although I personally wouldn’t want to live without electricity, my cell phone or computer, I can appreciate the Amish lifestyle. Growing up in rural Kansas, I saw firsthand their devotion to God, family and community. I’m happy to say it still exists here...and in every other state. You don’t have to be Amish to live a purposeful life.

  I hope you enjoy your visit to Cedar Grove and you come back to visit again. I have two more books planned featuring this town and the entertaining characters who live there.

  Happy reading,

  Patricia Davids

  PATRICIA

  DAVIDS

  The Wish

  This book is lovingly dedicated to the memory of my mother, Joan Stroda. I miss you, Mom. I hope I’m making you proud. And to my daughter, Kathy Hill. You have no idea how much your support and encouragement have helped me over the years, plus you gave me wonderful grandkids. Nice job.

  Contents

  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

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM SHELTER FROM THE STORM BY PATRICIA DAVIDS

  CHAPTER ONE

  THIS WAS SO much harder than she expected it to be.

  Laura Beth Yoder glanced at her best friend working beside her. Abigail Troyer was helping bind lavender into bundles for drying. It was a chore they had done together every spring for ten years, but this would be the last time.

  Laura Beth’s hands shook slightly as she selected the fragrant blooms and snipped their stems to equal lengths before handing the flowers to her friend. “Abigail, I have something to tell you. You aren’t going to like it.”

  “That sounds serious.” Abigail wound a blue rubber band around the stems and carefully placed the bundle in a box on the counter beside her.

  “I’m going to sell my farm and move to Ohio.”

  Abigail spun to stare at her. “What? Leave Kansas? Why would you do that?”

  Laura Beth faced her friend, praying she would understand. “I want to find a husband, and there isn’t anyone for me to marry around here.”

  “To find a husband?” Abigail pressed a hand to her cheek. “I can’t believe you’re seriously considering this. You’re joking, right?”

  Laura Beth wasn’t surprised at Abigail’s disbelief. She knew this would be her reaction. It was the reason she hadn’t mentioned her plans before now. She had wanted to wait until the move was certain, but she was afraid her sister, Sarah, would spill the beans. Laura Beth didn’t want Abigail to hear the news from anyone else.

  She plucked more flowers from the bushel basket on the counter, trimmed the ends with her shears and handed the bundle to Abigail. “It’s not as strange as you make it sound.”

  Abigail slapped the flowers on the counter, scattering the petals. “Strange? I think you’re ab en kopp.”

  Laura Beth flinched. She wasn’t off in the head, but she was getting desperate. It hadn’t been an easy decision, but it was the only one open to her.

  The two women had been friends since childhood. Abigail was her nearest neighbor and a member of the same Amish church, but Abigail was also the mother of four healthy, energetic children. She had no idea what it was like to spend years praying for a baby and to still have empty arms.

  There was an ache in Laura Beth’s heart that never went away. There was a void only a baby could fill.

  The death of her husband two years ago had put an end to any hopes of motherhood she had harbored during the ten years of her marriage. The opportunity to change her life had arrived in a letter from her cousin in Ohio. If she was strong enough to take it.

  She looked up from her flowers to stare out the window at the three Troyer boys playing outside. They were enjoying the tire swing their father had hung from the elm tree in the front yard. Melvin, the youngest of the boys at five years old, lay through the center of the tire while his eight-year-old twin brothers, Andy and Peter, turned him round and round. Stepping back, they gave him a shove and watched him spin wildly as the rope unwound. All of them were laughing.

  In the roomy kitchen of the Troyer home filled with the scent of lavender and the sounds of children at play coming through the open window, Laura Beth was sure paradise must sound and smell something like this. Why hadn’t God blessed her with children? Why didn’t she deserve this happiness?

  Her gaze shifted to her friend. “It has been two years since my Micah passed away. I’m going to be thirty tomorrow, Abigail. Time is running out for me. I want children of my own.”

  Abigail snapped the blue rubber band around the flowers in her hand and tossed them in the box. “Thirty isn’t old.”

  “It’s old enough. I’m ready to seek a new husband, and my cousin Esther in Ohio knows several men that might suit. She knows one who is eager to meet me.” Laura Beth wanted her friend’s support. It was a frightening prospect to move halfway across the country.

  “You make it sound like you’re shopping for a new coat.”

  Laura Beth managed a slight smile. “I wish it was that easy. Maybe it will be in Sugarcreek. Esther assures me that there are plenty of marriage-minded men in the church groups around her area. Did you know Ohio has the largest population of Amish in any state? Even more than Pennsylvania.”

  “I didn’t, and I don’t care. Please don’t make a rash decision you’ll regret.”

  “This isn’t a whim, Abigail. I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’m doing it for Sarah, too. There isn’t anyone for her here, either. Ohio may suit us both.” Her younger sister would be twenty in the fall. She deserved a chance to meet more than the handful of Amish boys that lived nearby.

  Abigail sighed and reached to cover Laura Beth’s hand with her own. “I understand. I do. I sympathize, but if you go to Ohio I will never see you again. How will I manage without you? Wait another year or two at least.”

  “What would I be waiting for? Outside of my three first cousins, there isn’t a single Amish man of marriageable age in our district.”

  “What about Ernest Mast?”

  “He is fifty-one and a confirmed bachelor.”

  “Okay, you’re right, but don’t sell your farm. Go visit your cousin for a few months. Don’t move there. If things don’t work out, you can come back.”

  Laura Beth shook her head. “My mind is made up.”

  Abigail’s lips pressed into a stern line, and she turned away. “Then I hope it takes you years and years to sell your farm.”

  That might easily be the case. “I know the place needs a lot of work. Micah was a man who believed tomorrow was the best day to repair a leaking roof or replace rotting boards on the porch floor. When he became so ill, I had my hands full taking care of him. It was easier to set a pail to catch the drip and to step over the loose board than it was to find time to repair it.”

  Abigail pulled Laura Beth into a tight hug. “We have been terrible neighbors. I am ashamed of the way we have neglected you.”

  Laura Beth started laughing. Abigail drew back and folded her arms across her chest as she frowned. “Honestly, I don’t see what you find funny in that.”

  Laura Beth gestured to the flowers on the countertop. “You and Thomas aren’t terrib
le neighbors. You have helped me harvest my lavender, make soaps to sell and put up the produce from my garden. Your husband planted my entire pumpkin patch last year. He has fixed my well and taken my goats to market. All you ever let me do in return is watch the children sometimes, which is my joy, not a chore. If you had given me any more help, I would feel duty-bound to deed the farm over to you.”

  Laura Beth handed Abigail another bundle of flowers. Abigail took them and continued wrapping the ends. “In this astonishing plan, how are you going to pay for the repairs in the first place? I know that you sank every dime you had into expanding your pumpkin acres.”

  Laura Beth blew out a deep breath. “There is a method to my madness. Once I sell my pumpkin crop this fall, I should have enough money to make repairs and spruce the place up. If everything works out, I will be in Ohio for Christmas.”

  “If this drought gets worse you won’t have a pumpkin crop. What then?”

  “I will think of something. As the Englisch say, ‘the Lord helps those that help themselves.’ You won’t change my mind. I’m going.”

  “What does Sarah think of this idea?”

  Laura Beth had tried repeatedly to convince her sister the move would be good for both of them, but at nineteen Sarah wasn’t worried about marriage. Her only concern was being separated from her friends. “She hates it.”

  “At least one of you has some sense.”

  Laura Beth smiled and tipped her head. “Danki.”

  “I didn’t mean you.” Abigail put the last two bundles into the box and walked out the front door to check on her children. Baby Harriet sat happily babbling in her high chair at the end of the table. Laura Beth took the opportunity to tickle her nose with a sprig of lavender. Harriet laughed, making Laura Beth grin. Nothing was as cute as a baby’s giggle. She leaned down, kissed her soft brown curls and breathed in her wonderful sweet scent.

  It was painful to think of leaving her friend and her family behind.

  Abigail poked her head back in the door. “It’s getting dark out west. You might want to start for home.”

  “Dark as in stormy?” Laura Beth rushed out to stand on the porch.

  “The weather forecast in the newspaper said there was a chance of severe storms for the next three days.”

  “The paper has been wrong before.”

  A line of gray clouds hugged the western skyline. Their white tops billowed steadily higher as Laura Beth watched. She folded her hands together. “Please, please, please let it rain enough to save our crops.”

  “Rain without hail, without high winds and without a tornado,” Abigail added. The two women looked at each other. “Amen,” they said in unison.

  Abigail shouted to her boys. “Andy, Peter, hitch up Laura’s mare and bring her buggy to the house. Melvin, come inside.” Her sons stopped playing, and the oldest two jogged toward the barn.

  Laura Beth reentered the kitchen, dropped her shears into the pocket of her apron and began gathering up her supplies. “I’ll finish the rest of this at home.”

  Twenty minutes later she loaded the last of the flowers into the back seat of her buggy and stopped to check the horizon again. The storm was definitely moving their way, and quickly. Lightning flickered in the clouds, but it was still too far away to hear the thunder. The mushrooming white tops were about to block out the afternoon sun.

  Abigail came around the corner of the house carrying the clothes she had gathered off the line. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us?”

  “Nee. I don’t want to leave Sarah alone.”

  “She can look after herself. If it dumps enough rain to the west, Cedar Creek will overflow its banks and leave your bridge impassible.”

  “Not before I get home it won’t.”

  “Maybe, but don’t try to cross that bridge if there is water over the road. That’s where Jethro Mast and his family were swept away to their deaths.” A distant rumble of thunder added emphasis to her warning.

  “That was fifteen years ago. It was a freak accident. Nothing like that has happened since.”

  “And the bridge still goes underwater in every heavy rain.”

  “I know. The bridge is on my lane.”

  “I’m merely reminding you to be careful. Thomas says storms that come from the west produce the worst flash floods because of the way the rocky hills funnel water into the gorge.”

  Laura Beth climbed into the front seat of the buggy. “I promise I’ll turn around and come back if the creek is out.”

  “Think again on your decision to leave, Laura Beth. I don’t want you to move away.”

  “Please don’t expect me to change my mind.”

  “All right. Get going. Kinder, come say goodbye to Laura Beth.” The children lined up to wave and call out their goodbyes.

  “Come over for dinner on Sunday. My mother and sisters will be here,” Abigail added over top of their voices.

  “We’ll be here.” Laura Beth winked at Abigail. “God willing and the creek don’t rise.” She laughed as she guided her gray mare, Freckles, down the gravel road toward her farm.

  The roadway wound up and down through two miles of steep rocky hills and gullies that separated Laura Beth’s farm from the Troyers’. Her husband had nicknamed the area the Stumbling Blocks. The name suited the land that was too rocky and steep to farm. It began raining before she had gone a mile. When she came out onto flat land again she took the left-hand fork that was her lane. The rain came down in earnest as the wind picked up.

  Her road dropped steeply toward the creek. Jumbled stony hillsides pressed close to the buggy. Rivulets of water cascaded over the rocks and ran down the center of the road. Because her lane curved north, it wasn’t until she was around the bend that she breathed a sigh of relief. The concrete low-water bridge was still visible. She made it across easily but saw the muddy water of the creek was already rising.

  Freckles didn’t need urging to hurry homeward. The horse leaned into her collar to pull the buggy up the last steep hill.

  At the top of the rise, the land spread out into an eighty-acre farm ringed with forest that backed up to Cedar Valley Lake. It was a pretty view across the Stumbling Blocks. Even in the rain, Laura Beth paused to admire the place she and Micah had chosen to spend their life together. A low stone wall bordered her lavender field along the edge of the steep drop to the creek. When she couldn’t sleep, she sometimes came out to sit on the wall and watch the moon rise over the lake in the distance. Seeing the shimmering sparkling path of the light stretch across the water always lifted her spirits. She would imagine it was the path to heaven that Micah had traveled, and that she would walk upon when her time came.

  She would be sad to leave this place, but her wish to have children was stronger than her ties to the land.

  Today the lake was as gray as the sky, with churning whitecaps dotting the surface. The view faded as the curtain of rain grew heavier. She could see it was moving her way.

  Her cornfields might be saved if it rained enough. The crop should have been seven feet high by now, but the stalks were barely five feet tall. The drought had stunted their growth and burned the edges of the leaves, but they still had time to develop full-sized ears. Beyond the corn lay the bare fields where she would plant her pumpkins. So much of her plan depended on getting a good crop of them in the fall. The rumble of thunder grew louder. Lightning flashed in jagged forks through the clouds, prompting her to get Freckles moving.

  Once inside the barn, Laura Beth bedded her mare down, unloaded the boxes of lavender into her drying shed and hung the bundles from pegs on the frames her husband had built. She still had one basket of blooms to trim and bind. She hooked the rope handles of the basket over her arm. The downpour continued with no signs of stopping. Laura Beth waited in the doorway of the barn for the rain to let up so she could make a dash for the house.

  She drew a deep breath. The sweet smell of rain hitting the dry earth mixed with the scent of her flowers left the warm summer air laden with a heady fragrance. It soothed her soul. After twenty minutes of steady rain she knew her crops would have enough water to save them.

  The wind came up and whipped around her, blowing the raindrops into her sheltered spot. Laughing in sheer delight, she stepped out into the brunt of it. She dropped the basket and lifted her arms and face to the storm and welcomed the deluge as she let the rain wash away her unspoken doubts along with the dust. She was soaked to the skin in seconds.