The Amish Wonders Collection Read online

“Weak, but the doktah said that’s expected.” He paused, staring at her a moment. “Lindie, I spoke with Eli—”

  “Don’t.” She lifted her hand. “Your dochder prayed for you.”

  “I know. She told me I had to believe.”

  “Then don’t doubt. Don’t speak about mei future unless it involves you.”

  “But, Lindie—”

  “They asked me what name I wanted on the birth certificate. I like Hope or Joy Plank. Do you like either of those names?”

  “I like them both.”

  She leaned closer to the bed. “You’re nett going to ask me why I like those names?”

  “I am a little surprised. I thought you would name her after your mother.”

  She shook her head. “I placed mei hope in the Lord and he made mei joy complete.”

  “I think either name is perfect.” He paused a moment and gazed into her eyes. “I love you, Lindie. You’ve filled mei heart with joy too.”

  She stood, bent over the railing, and kissed him. “You have to get better soon so you can see your new dochder.”

  He raised his head a couple of inches off the pillow, looked beyond her toward a built-in cabinet, then plopped back down.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Mei clothes,” he said.

  “You can’t leave nau.”

  “Will you find mei pants?”

  She didn’t budge.

  “There’s a letter for you inside the pocket.” He lifted his head once more, but dropped it back down on the pillow. “Mei clothes are probably in that closet.”

  Lindie found his pants on a hanger and dug her hand into the pocket. She removed a small envelope with her name scrawled on the front. “Did you want me to open it nau?”

  “Later,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you had it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  FIVE MONTHS LATER

  The bedroom’s blue cotton curtains fluttered in the morning breeze, a refreshing break from the August heat wave. Still, Lindie couldn’t sleep. She tossed the covers back and crawled out of bed. She padded barefoot down the hall and into the kitchen. It wouldn’t be long before Hope woke up. Since the infant started teething, she hadn’t slept through the night.

  Lindie set the kettle on the stove and stood by the window as she waited for the water to heat. They needed rain, just not today. Within a few hours, buggies would line the lawn, and the members would gather for Sunday service. Lindie didn’t want anything to spoil this day. She also didn’t want anything out of place. She turned away from the window and scanned the room. The floors were spotless, the curtains pressed. She gathered the Budget from the table and walked the newspaper into the sitting room. For now, she would shove it in one of the desk drawers.

  Inside the drawer, Lindie spotted the envelope Josiah had given her in the hospital. Although she didn’t need to reread the letter, she could recite every word. She sat down at the desk and pulled the tattered pages out of the envelope.

  My Dearest Lindie,

  As I take this moment to gather my thoughts, I cannot help but recall the feeling of breathlessness I had the first time I saw you. You stepped off the bus, pretending to be more interested in your rumpled dress than at looking me in the eye.

  I never told you, but I was just as nervous. I’m not sure my hands had ever been so clammy. You must’ve noticed when Bishop Troyer told us to join hands at the ceremony. All I remember is how soft your hand felt in mine. And how frightened I was that I could never make you happy.

  I regret now that you didn’t have the wedding of your dreams. But I don’t regret marrying you. If I live one day or a hundred years, I’ll always be grateful that you’ve come into my life.

  In the first letter I wrote to you, I said I would give you my name, but I could never give you my heart. That was a lie. My heart belongs to you. God has blessed me in that he’s made my joy complete by giving me you.

  I say all this because we don’t know the plans of God. Should tomorrow never come, I don’t want to miss telling you how much you mean to me. How much I love you.

  Your husband,

  Josiah

  Lindie dabbed the corners of her eyes with her hankie. Josiah’s letter moved her to tears every time she read it.

  The floor creaked behind her and strong arms came around her shoulders. “Mrs. Plank, you’re going to have a houseful of people in a few hours. What are you doing rereading this old letter?”

  She looked up and smiled at Josiah. “Your love letter will never be old to me.”

  Josiah brought her into his arms. “I need to write you a note every day and tell you how much I love you.”

  Lindie rested her head on Josiah’s chest. “I’m so glad God gave me you.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “And in a few hours, God’s going to give you a houseful of people, Mrs. Plank.”

  Lindie gasped. “I still have things to get ready.”

  Hannah yawned as she shuffled into the sitting room. Already dressed for church, she was closer to being ready than Lindie was.

  Lindie gave Hannah a morning hug. “I’ll make breakfast after I get changed.” Lindie thought that since today was the first time she and Josiah were hosting the Sunday services, she would wear the pretty blue dress Simon had given her for Christmas.

  Lindie quickly changed and headed into the kitchen, pinning her kapp in place. She reviewed the mental list of things still to do. Yesterday Josiah and Simon had cleaned the workshop, arranged the benches, and set up long wooden tables outside. She had the tablecloths pressed and ready. Josiah had found her a few rocks by the edge of the garden to help keep them from flapping in the wind. She still needed to make up the vegetable dip. Yesterday she and Hannah had gathered, washed, and cut broccoli, carrots, celery, and zucchini from the garden.

  “Guder mariye.” Simon entered the kitchen.

  “Mariye,” Lindie and Josiah said in unison.

  Lindie poured him a mug of kaffi. “I’ll have breakfast done in a few minutes.”

  Hope started to fuss just as Lindie cracked the first egg into the skillet.

  “I’ll get her,” Josiah said. When he returned, the boppli reached her arms out toward Hannah.

  Lindie glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Hannah, Josiah, and even Simon were all doting on little Hope, trying to keep her from crying long enough for Lindie to finish cooking.

  Hope didn’t stop fussing until she reached up and grasped Simon’s beard. That made her smile.

  Hannah laughed.

  “You used to do that too,” Simon said to Hannah as he worked to free his beard. “Mei new granddaughter doesn’t want to let go of me.”

  Josiah helped Simon, but it wasn’t until Hannah clapped her hands and said, “Hope,” that the baby released Simon’s beard, turned to her sister, and spread out her arms for Hannah to take her.

  Laughter filled the room as Lindie placed the food on the table. She smiled. This was her dream come true.

  Josiah stood at the window and watched Simon and Hannah walk hand in hand across the green lawn. Several of the members had arrived and other buggies were pulling into the driveway. He hadn’t realized how excited Lindie was to host Sunday services until he watched her and Hannah buzzing around the house the past few days, cooking and cleaning. It made him happy to see them excited. He was a blessed man. He wasn’t sure if it was Hannah’s laying hands on him or the miracle of Hope’s stem cells that God used to heal him. Maybe it was Lindie’s faith. It didn’t matter. God had given him his life back.

  Lindie came up beside him, Hope cradled in her arms. “Now that she’s fed, she should sleep for a while.” She craned her neck to see out the window. “Ach, I’m late. I wanted everything perfect before the others arrived.”

  He placed his arm around Lindie’s waist and kissed her temple. “Everything is perfect.”

  I couldn’t write a book about a man from Florida moving to northern Michigan without dedicating it to my own Flo
rida man, Dan Reid, my husband and best friend. Although in our story, the northern Michigan girl moved to Florida. A move I haven’t regretted. Dan, you’ve brought my life so much happiness and I’m blessed to be your wife. With all my love, Ruth

  Glossary

  ach: oh

  aenti: aunt

  Ausbund: Amish hymnal

  boppli: baby

  bruder: brother

  bu, buwes: boy, boys

  Budget, the: a weekly newspaper serving Amish and Mennonite communities

  daed: dad or father

  danki: thank you

  dochder: daughter

  doktah: doctor

  dummkopp: dunce

  Englischer: non-Amish

  fraa: wife

  geh: go

  grossdaadi: grandfather

  gudder mariye: good morning

  gut: good

  haus: house

  hiya: a greeting

  icehaus: icehouse

  jah: yes

  kaffi: coffee

  kalt: cold

  kapp: prayer cap worn by all Amish women

  kinner: children

  kumm: come

  lieb: love

  maedel: girl

  mamm: mom or mother

  mammi: grandmother

  mei: my

  nacht: night

  narrisch: foolish

  nau: now

  nay: no

  nett: not

  onkel: uncle

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

  outhaus: outhouse

  Pennsylvania Deitsch: the language spoken by the Amish

  redd-up: clean up

  rumschpringe: running-around period that starts when a teenager turns sixteen years old and lasts until the person is ready to make a commitment to God and the Amish way

  Schnell, verschteh?: Quickly, understand?

  schul: school

  smokehaus: smokehouse

  sohn: son

  wedder: weather

  welkom: welcome

  wunderbaar: wonderful

  Chapter One

  PINECRAFT DISTRICT, FLORIDA

  Ben Eicher raked his fingers through his damp hair, then pushed his straw hat back into place. He snatched the shovel off the ground and sank it into the dirt. It wasn’t even noon and the thermometer on the bank sign read ninety degrees. He glanced over at his buddy Toby, who seemed oblivious to the rising temperature. The first heat wave of the year, according to the DJ on the oldies rock station Ben had been listening to all morning.

  Planting shrubs wasn’t something he wanted to do the rest of his life. But neither was working for his father in his shoe-repair business. A year ago he worked on a commercial fishing boat. But that was prior to the hurricane. He liked the cool breeze, the scent of salt air, and the endless view of turquoise water. That sure beat digging holes.

  Ben gauged the depth of the hole and tossed his shovel. He removed the pink azalea plant from the plastic starter pot and released some of the dirt from around its roots before dropping it into the hole.

  Toby covered the plant with loose soil. “When we finish here, we’re supposed to go to the deli and check if they have deliveries for us to make.”

  Ben shook his head. “When I finish here I’m either going to the beach, or I’m going to take a dip in the Tidewater Inn’s pool.”

  “Tidewater’s still closed.” Toby tapped the mound of dirt around the bush and stood. “Even if the construction was complete, the No Trespassing sign hasn’t kumm down.”

  “That might be what the sign says, but they finished working on the pool. There’s water in it.” Ben lifted his shoulder and caught the roll of sweat trickling down the side of his face. He hoped these soaring temperatures in March didn’t indicate a grueling summer ahead. If so, he planned to spend more time swimming.

  Toby shook his head. “It’s nett going to work out well.”

  “In this roasting heat, I’ll take mei chances.” Ben and Toby had been best friends for a number of years. Twenty-three, if you counted the diaper years when their mothers would get together to quilt and he and Toby shared the same crib during naptime.

  “When you’re caught, don’t give the Amish a bad name in the community.” Toby brushed the caked dirt off his knees. “Some of us want to stay and raise a family in Pinecraft, or at least have that option,” he grumbled under his breath. Toby had changed in the past year. He talked more and more about settling down even though he wasn’t courting anyone seriously.

  Ben had convinced himself he wanted the same thing at this time last year. Now that Neva was gone, nothing much mattered. Ben pulled a hankie from his pocket and wiped the sweat off his brow. He glanced at the dirty residue on the cloth, then jammed it back into his pocket. Dirty, sticky, and perspiring like the morning’s dew, he needed to rinse off. He grabbed the shovel, paced off a few feet, and dug the next hole.

  The next time he stopped to look at the sun’s position, he figured it was sometime after two. His mouth was parched, his muscles ached, and his sweat-soaked shirt clung to his skin. He couldn’t wait to dig the last hole.

  A few moments later, Ben tossed his shovel in the small utility cart attached to Toby’s bicycle. “I think it’s time for that swim. What about you?”

  “I’m definitely hot.” His friend tipped his beet-red face toward the sun and squinted. “But we should head over to the deli. You got me in trouble the last time we skipped work, remember?”

  How could he forget? Ben’s father lectured him for days about his lack of responsibility. But that incident paled in comparison to the time he kept Neva out all night. He could still hear the elevation of his father’s voice. What were you thinking? I have no respect for a man who-who places a maedel in a compromising situation.

  Toby backhanded Ben in the chest, leaving his dirty handprint on Ben’s shirt. “Let’s get a soda.”

  “Nay.” Ben shook his head. “I’m going swimming.”

  “You’re just itching to get in trouble.”

  Ben peeled his clinging shirt away from his chest. “I’m itching to get out of these sweaty clothes.” Toby should understand why Ben still avoided the deli. Mercy wasn’t part of Neva’s parents’ vocabulary—toward him anyway. Besides, he’d rather be swimming.

  The Tidewater Inn was one of the few remaining resorts along the coast that hadn’t reopened since the hurricane. Ben had snuck onto the grounds and swum plenty of times before it closed, but he hadn’t had a chance to swim there since it was rebuilt.

  “Sure you don’t want to cool off?”

  Toby picked at the dirt under his fingernails. “I want to, but . . .”

  “You’re always teetering.” Ben wiped the back of his neck with his hankie. He wasn’t about to spend all day waiting for Toby to decide. “Don’t be so indecisive. Either it’s yes or no.”

  Ben waited a moment, then released the kickstand on his bike. “You know where to find me.”

  Ben pedaled down the sidewalk until he reached the motel. He laid his bike down in the bushes and climbed over the fence. Minutes later, he shucked all his clothes but his briefs and gingerly eased into the cool water, giving his body time to adjust. Once he was waist deep, he plunged down to the bottom of the shallow end. He swam a few laps, then flipped over and floated on his back. He closed his eyes and relaxed. This was so much better than pedaling his bike in the heat delivering stuff that one of the younger boys could do.

  “Cannonball!” Toby’s thundering voice called out midair.

  Rocked by the wave created when Toby landed in the pool, Ben dipped under the surface of the water and came up sputtering. “You could’ve given me better warning.”

  “Feels gut to cool off.” Toby dipped back under, then resurfaced, shaking his mass of poodle-like curly hair like a wet dog.

  Ben cu
pped his hand and splashed his friend.

  Toby returned fire, and neither of them noticed the police officer until he spoke.

  “You two climb out of the pool, then put your hands up where I can see them.”

  Trudging through the water toward the stairs, Ben glanced over his shoulder at Toby. His friend’s sobered expression and downcast eyes seared Ben’s soul. He shouldn’t have teased Toby about being indecisive. Ben climbed out of the pool and stood before the officer as puddles of water collected at his feet. At least Toby had jumped in fully dressed. Ben stood before the man wearing only his briefs. Maybe he could ask to dress before their eviction. He eyed his hat and clothes piled next to a potted ficus tree.

  The officer peered over his sunglasses. “What are you two doing here?”

  “We wanted to cool off in the pool,” Ben said.

  “You didn’t read the No Trespassing signs? This area is off-limits.”

  “We were only going to stay a few minutes.” Ben shivered when the breeze hit his wet body.

  “And I suppose you don’t know anything about the rash of break-ins?”

  Ben and Toby exchanged glances. “Nay,” they replied in unison.

  “Are those your clothes over there? Let’s see some form of ID.”

  “We don’t have any,” Ben said. “We’re Amish.”

  The officer pressed a button near his shoulder and talked into a microphone clipped to his shirt. “Dispatch, this is beach patrol two-nine. I’ll need transport for two males found trespassing at the Tidewater Inn.”

  “Ten-four.” A moment later, the woman’s voice returned. “Two-nine, be advised there is an officer in the area. ETA five minutes.”

  Ben wasn’t sure what the abbreviations meant, but he was pretty sure he only had five minutes to talk the officer into letting them go. He cleared his throat. “Are we in trouble?”

  “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney . . .”

  Ben swallowed hard. So many rights. He just wanted the right to put on his clothes. This wouldn’t be easy to explain to his parents. Most Amish men at twenty-three were married, starting a family, and well respected in their district. He wasn’t any of those things.