Amish Redemption

An Amish Homecoming

Joshua Bowman is ready to go home. After spending time in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, he’s putting everything behind him and reconciling with his fractured family. When a devastating tornado throws him unexpectedly into the path of Mary Kaufman and her daughter, Hannah, he feels the first spark of life after months. But Mary’s adoptive dad is the Englisch sheriff—and he’d never trust her care to a man with Joshua’s past. Plus the lovely single mom has a secret of her own, one that she’s spent years running from. Together they survived the storm, but are they strong enough to shed the shadows of their past?

Brides of Amish Country: Finding true love in the land of the Plain People.

“This must be hard for you,” Joshua said.

Mary ducked her head. How could he possibly know how confused and excited she felt when he was near? “Why would seeing you again be hard for me?”

“I meant it must be hard for you to see your community in ruins.”

She felt like a fool. “It is sad, but look how everyone is working together. Friends are helping friends. Strangers are helping strangers. It will take a lot of work, but we’ll get through this.”

“I was wondering if your grandmother’s offer of a place to stay was still open? If not, I’m sure I can find another family to put me up.”

“Ada and Hannah will be happy to have you stay.”

“And you, Mary? Will you be happy if I do?” His voice was low enough that only she could hear him.

She wasn’t sure. She was excited at the prospect, and that gave her pause. She already liked him too much. Her track record with liking and trusting the wrong men made her leery of repeating those mistakes.

After thirty-five years as a nurse, PATRICIA DAVIDS hung up her stethoscope to become a full-time writer. She enjoys spending her free time visiting her grandchildren, doing some long-overdue yard work and traveling to research her story locations. She resides in Wichita, Kansas. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her online at patriciadavids.com.

Amish Redemption

Patricia Davids

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Attend unto my cry; for I am brought very low: deliver me from my persecutors; for they are stronger than I. Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name: the righteous shall compass me about; for thou shalt deal bountifully with me.

—Psalms 142:6–7

The book is lovingly dedicated

to all my readers. Thanks for

making my writing dreams come true.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Dear Readers

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Joshua Bowman’s parole officer turned the squad car off the highway and onto the dirt lane. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “You want me to drive to the house or do you want to walk from here?”

The immaculate farmstead with the two-story white house, white rail fences and big red barn at the end of the lane had never looked so beautiful. It was like many Amish farms that dotted the countryside around Berlin, Ohio, but this one was special. It was home.

Joshua cleared his throat. “I’d rather walk.”

It was kind of Officer Oliver Merlin to allow Joshua’s family reunion to take place in private. It was about the only kindness he had received from the Englisch justice system. He struggled to put that bitterness behind him. It was time for a new start.

Officer Merlin leveled a hard look at him. “You understand how this works. I’ll be back to meet with you in two weeks.”

“I’ll be here.”

“After that, we’ll meet once a month until the end of your sentence, but I can drop in anytime. Deliberately miss a meeting with me and you’ll find yourself back in prison. I don’t take kindly to making long trips for nothing.” The man’s stern tone left no doubt that he meant what he said.

“I’m never going back there. Never.” Joshua voiced the conviction in his heart as he met the officer’s gaze without flinching.

“Obey the law and you won’t.” Getting out of the car, Officer Merlin came around to Joshua’s door. There were no handles on the inside. Even though he was on his way home, he was still a prisoner. The moment the door opened, he drew his first free breath in six months.

Freedom beckoned, but he hesitated. What kind of welcome would he find in his father’s house?

Officer Merlin’s face softened. “I know this is hard, but you can do it, kid.”

At twenty-one, Joshua was not a kid, but he appreciated the man’s sympathy. He stepped out clutching a brown paper bag that contained his few personal possessions. A soft breeze caressed his cheeks, carrying with it the smells of spring, of the warming earth and fresh green grass. He closed his eyes, raised his face to the morning sun and thanked God for his deliverance.

“See you in two weeks.” Officer Merlin closed the door behind Joshua, walked around the vehicle, got in and drove away.

Joshua immediately sat down in the grass at the edge of the road and pulled off his boots and socks. Rising, he wiggled his toes, letting his bare feet relish the cool softness beneath him. Every summer of his life, he had worked and played barefoot along this lane and through these fields. Somehow, it felt right to come home this way. Picking up his bag and carrying his boots in his other hand, he started toward the house.

Set a little way back from the highway stood his father’s woodworking shop and the small store where his mother sold homemade candy, jams, jellies, the occasional quilt and the furniture his father and brothers made. The closed sign still hung in the window. His mother would be down to open it as soon as her chores were done.

Joshua had painted the blue-and-white sign on the side of the building when he was fifteen: Bowmans Crossing Amish-Made Gifts and Furniture. At the time, his father thought it was too fancy, but Joshua’s mother liked it. The bishop of their congregation hadn’t objected, so it stayed. The blue paint was fading. He would find time to touch it up soon. Right now, he had to face his family.

Joshua was a dozen yards from the house when he saw his brothers come out of the barn. Timothy led a pair of draft horses harnessed and ready for working the fields. Noah, the youngest brother, walked beside Timothy. Both big gray horses raised their heads and perked up their ears at the sight of Joshua. One whinnied. His brothers looked to see what had caught their attention.

Joshua stopped. In his heart, he believed he would be welcomed, but his time among the Englisch had taught him not to trust in the goodness of others.

Timothy gave a whoop of joy. He looped the reins over the nearby fence and began running toward Joshua with Noah close on his heels. Their shouts brought their oldest brother, Samuel, and their father to the barn door. Samuel broke into a run, too. Before he knew it, Joshua was caught up in bear hugs by first one brother and then the others. Relief made him giddy with happiness, and he laughed out loud.

The commotion brought their mother out of the house to see what was going on. She shrieked with joy and ran down the steps with her white apron clutched in her hands and the ribbons of her Amish prayer kapp streaming behind her. She reached her husband’s side and grasped his arm. Together they waited.

Joshua fended off his brothers and they fell silent as he walked toward his parents. He stopped a few feet in front of them and braced himself. “I know that I have brought shame and heartache to you both. I humbly ask your forgiveness. May I come home?”

He watched his father’s face as he struggled with some great emotion. Tall and sparse with a flowing gray beard, Isaac Bowman was a man of few words. His straw hat, identical to the ones his sons wore, shaded his eyes, but Joshua caught the glint of moisture in them before his father wiped it away. Tears in his father’s eyes were something Joshua had never seen before. His mother began weeping openly.

“Willkomme home, mein sohn.”

Joshua’s knees almost buckled, but he managed to stay upright and clasp his father’s offered hand. “Danki, Father. I will never shame you again.”

“There is no shame in what you did. You tried to help your brother. Many of our ancestors suffered unjust imprisonments as you did. It was God’s will.” He pulled Joshua forward and kissed him on both cheeks.

When he stepped back, Joshua’s mother threw her arms around him. He breathed in the scent of pine cleaner and lemon. Not a day went by that she wasn’t scrubbing some surface of her home in an effort to make it clean and welcoming. She had no idea how good she smelled.

Leaning back, she smiled at him. “Come inside. There’s cinnamon cake and a fresh pot of kaffi on the stove.”

“We’ll be in in a minute, Mother,” Isaac said.

She glanced from her husband to her sons and nodded. “It’s so goot to have you back.”

When she returned to the house, his father began walking toward the barn. Joshua and his three brothers followed him. “Do you bring us news of your brother Luke?”

“He is doing as well as can be expected. I pray that they parole him early, too.” It was Luke’s second arrest on drug charges, and the judge had given him a longer sentence.

Samuel laid a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “We never believed what they said about you.”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My mistake was thinking that the Englisch police would believe me. I thought justice was on the side of the innocent. It’s not.”

“Do you regret going to Cincinnati to find Luke?” Noah asked.

“Nee, I had to try and convince him to come back. I know you said it was his decision, Father, but I thought I could persuade him to give up that wretched life and return with me. We were close once.”

In the city, Joshua had discovered his brother had moved from using drugs to making and selling them. Joshua stayed for two days and tried to reason with him, but his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. He’d been ready to accept defeat and return home when the drug raid went down. In a very short time, Joshua found himself in prison alongside his brother. His sentence for a first offense was harsh because his brother had been living near a school.

His father regarded him with sad eyes. “The justice we seek is not of this world, sohn. God knows an innocent heart. It is His judgment we must fear.”

“Do you think this time in prison will change Luke?” Timothy asked softly.

Prison changed any man who entered those walls, but not always for the better. Joshua shrugged.

His father hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “You are home now, and for that we must all give thanks. Timothy, Noah, Samuel, the ground will not prepare itself for planting.”

Joshua smiled. That was Daed—give thanks that his son was home for five minutes and then make everyone get to work.

Joshua’s brothers slapped him on the back and started toward the waiting team. Timothy looked over his shoulder. “I want to hear all about the gangsters in the big house tonight.”

“I didn’t meet any,” Joshua called after him, wondering where his brother had picked up such terms.

“Not even one?” Noah’s mouth fell open in disbelief.

“Nope.” Joshua grinned at his little brother’s crestfallen expression. Joshua had no intention of sharing the sights he’d seen in that inhuman world.

“Come. Your mother is anxious to spoil you. She deserves her happiness today.”

Joshua followed his father inside. Nothing had changed in the months Joshua had been away. The kitchen was spotless and smelled of cinnamon, fresh-baked bread and stout coffee. Standing with his eyes closed, he let the smells of home wash away the lingering scent of his prison cell. He was truly home at last.

“Sit,” his mother insisted.

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. She wasn’t happy unless she was feeding someone. She bustled about the kitchen getting cups and plates and dishing up thick slices of coffee cake. He took a seat at the table, but his father remained by the desk in the corner. He picked up a long white envelope. Turning to Joshua, he said, “Mother’s onkel Marvin passed away a few months ago.”

Joshua frowned. “I don’t remember him.”

His mother set a plate on the table. “You never met him. He left the Amish as a young man and never spoke to my family again.”

“It seems Mother has inherited his property over by Hope Springs.” His father tapped the letter against his palm.

“I didn’t even know where he lived. His lawyer said he was fond of me because I was such a happy child. Strange, don’t you think? Would you like kaffi or milk?” she asked with a beaming smile on her face.

“Coffee. What kind of property did he leave you?”

“Forty acres with a house and barn,” his father replied. “But the lawyer says the property is in poor repair. I was going to go to Hope Springs the day after tomorrow to look it over, but you know how I hate long buggy trips. Besides, I need to get the ground worked so we can plant. Joshua, why don’t you go instead? It would take a load off me, and it would give you a little time to enjoy yourself before getting behind a planter again.”

Hope Springs was a day’s buggy ride from the farm. The idea of traveling wasn’t as appealing as it had once been, but doing something for his father was. “I’d be glad to go for you.”

His mother’s smile faded. “But Joshua has only just gotten home, Isaac.”

Joshua rose to his feet and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You have two whole days to spoil me with your wunderbar cooking before then. I’ll check out your property, and then I’ll be home for good.”

“Do you promise?” she asked softly.

He cupped her face in his palms. “I promise.”

* * *

“Mary, I have just the mann for you.”

Resisting the urge to bang her head on the cupboard door in front of her, Mary Kaufman continued mixing the lemon cake batter in the bowl she held. “I don’t want a man, Ada.”

Don’t want one. Don’t need one. How many ways can I say it before you believe me?

Except for her adopted father, Nick Bradley, most of the men in Mary’s life had brought her pain and grief. However, the prospect of finding her a husband was her adopted grandmother’s favorite subject. As much as Mary loved Ada, this got old.

“Balderdish! Every Amish woman needs a goot Amish husband.” Ada opened the oven door.

“The word is balderdash.”

Ada pulled a cake out using the folded corner of her black apron and dropped it on the stove top with a clatter. “Mein Englisch is goot. Do not change the subject. You will be nineteen in a few weeks. Do you want people to call you an alt maedel?”

“I’ll be twenty, and I don’t care if people call me an old maid or not.”

Ada frowned at her. “Zvansich?”

“Ja. Hannah just turned four. That means I’ll be twenty.” Mary smiled at her daughter playing with an empty bowl and wooden spoon on the floor. She was showing her dog, Bella, how to make a cake. The yellow Lab lay watching intently, her big head resting on her paws. Mary could almost believe the dog was memorizing the instructions.

Ada turned to the child. “Hannah, how old are you?”

Grinning at her great-grandmother, Hannah held up four fingers. “This many.”

Patting her chest rapidly, Ada faced Mary. “Ach! Then there is no time to lose. Delbert Miller is coming the day after tomorrow to fix the chicken haus. You must be nice to him.”

Mary slapped one hand to her cheek. “You’re right. There’s no time to lose. I’ll marry him straightaway. If he doesn’t fall through that rickety roof and squish all our chickens.”

She shook her head and began stirring again. “Go out with Delbert Miller? Not in a hundred years.”

“I know he is en adlichah grohsah mann, but you should not hold that against him.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “A fairly big man? Nee, he is a very big man.”

“And are you such a prize that you can judge him harshly?”

Mary stopped stirring and stared at the cuffs of her long sleeves. No matter how hot it got in the summer, she never rolled them up. They covered the scars on her wrists. The jagged white lines in her flesh were indisputable evidence that she had attempted suicide, the ultimate sin. Shame washed over her. “Nee, I’m not a prize.”

A second later, she was smothered in a hug that threatened to coat her in batter. “Forgive me, child. That is not what I meant. You know that. You are the light in this old woman’s heart and your dear dochder is the sun and the stars.”

Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

God spared my life. He has forgiven my sins. I am loved and treasured by the new family He gave me. Bad things happened years ago, but those things gave me my beautiful child. She is happy here, as I dreamed she would be. I will not dwell in that dark place again. We are safe and that evil man is locked away. He can never find us here.

Hannah came to join the group, tugging on Mary’s skirt and lifting her arms for a hug, too. Mary set her bowl on the counter and picked up her daughter. “You are the sun and the stars, aren’t you?”

“Ja, I am.” Hannah gave a big nod.

“You are indeed.” Ada kissed Hannah’s cheek and Mary’s cheek in turn. “You had better hurry or you will be late for the quilting bee. I’ll finish that batter. Are you taking Hannah?”

“I am. She enjoys playing with Katie Sutter’s little ones.” Mary glanced at the clock in the corner. It was nearly four. The quilting bee was being held at Katie’s home. They were finishing a quilt as a wedding gift for Katie’s friend Sally Yoder. Sally planned to wed in the fall.

“Who else is coming?”

“Rebecca Troyer, Faith Lapp, Joann Weaver and Sarah Beachy. Betsy Barkman will be there, of course, and I think all her sisters will be, too.”

Betsy Barkman was Mary’s dearest friend. They were both still single and neither of them was in a hurry to marry—something few people in their Amish community of Hope Springs understood. Especially Betsy’s sisters. Lizzie, Clara and Greta had all found husbands. They were impatiently waiting for their youngest sister to do the same. Betsy had been going out with Alvin Stutzman for over a year, but she wasn’t ready to be tied down.

“Sounds like you’ll have a wonderful time. Make sure you bring me all the latest gossip.”

“We don’t gossip.” Mary winked at her grandmother.

“Ja, and a rooster doesn’t crow.”

Shifting her daughter to her hip, Mary crossed the room and gathered their traveling bonnets from beside the door. She stood Hannah on a chair to tie the large black hat over her daughter’s silky blond crown of braids. As she did, she heard the distant rumble of thunder.

Ada leaned toward the kitchen window to peer out. “There’s a storm brewing, from the looks of those clouds. The paper said we should expect strong storms today. You’d better hurry. If it’s bad, stay with the Sutters until it passes.”

“I will.”

“And you will be nice to Delbert when he visits.”

“I’ll be nice to him. Unless he squashes any of our chickens,” Mary said with a cheeky grin.

“Bothersome child. Get before I take a switch to your backside.” Ada shook the spoon at Mary. Speckles of batter went everywhere much to Bella’s delight. The dog quickly licked the floor clean and sat with her hopeful gaze fixed on Ada.

Laughing, Mary scooped up her daughter and headed out the door. Bella tried to follow, but Mary shook her head. “You stay with Mammi. We’ll be back soon.”

Bella gave her a reproachful look, but turned around and headed to her favorite spot beside the stove.

Mary soon had her good-natured mare harnessed and climbed in the buggy with Hannah. She glanced at the rapidly approaching storm clouds. They did look threatening. The sky held an odd greenish cast that usually meant hail. Should she go, or should she stay home? She hated to miss an afternoon of fun with her friends.

She decided to go. She would be traveling ahead of it on her way to the Sutter farm and Tilly was a fast trotter.

Mary wasted no time getting the mare up to speed once they reached the highway at the end of her grandmother’s lane. She glanced back several times in the small rearview mirror on the side of her buggy. The clouds had become an ominous dark shroud, turning the May afternoon sky into twilight. Streaks of lightning were followed by growing rumbles of thunder.

Hannah edged closer to her. “I don’t like storms.”

She slipped an arm around her daughter. “Don’t worry. We’ll be at Katie’s house before the rain catches us.”

It turned out she was wrong. Big raindrops began hitting her windshield a few minutes later. A strong gust of wind shook the buggy and blew dust across the road. The sky grew darker by the minute. Mary urged Tilly to a faster pace. She should have stayed home.

A red car flew past her with the driver laying on the horn. Tilly shied and nearly dragged the buggy into the fence along the side of the road. Mary managed to right her. “Foolish Englischers. Have they no sense? We are over as far as we can get.”

The rumble of thunder became a steady roar behind them. Tilly broke into a run. Startled, Mary tried to pull her back but the mare struggled against the bit.

“Tilly, what’s wrong with you?” She sawed on the reins, trying to slow the animal.

Hannah began screaming. Mary glanced back and her heart stopped. A tornado had dropped from the clouds and was bearing down on them, chewing up everything in its path. Dust and debris flew out from the wide base as the roar grew louder. Mary loosened the reins and gave Tilly her head, but she knew even the former racehorse wouldn’t be able to outrun it. They had to find cover.

The lessons she learned at school came tumbling back into her mind: get underground in a cellar or lie flat in a ditch.

There weren’t any houses nearby. She scanned the fences lining each side of the road. The ditches were shallow to nonexistent. The roar grew louder. Hannah kept screaming.

Dear God, help me save my baby. What do I do?