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Courting Her Secret Heart
Mary Davis
Caught between two worlds…Deborah Miller lives a double life as an Amish woman—and a fashion model! All photography is forbidden in her Plain community, so she must keep her job a secret.But when Amos Burkholder starts helping at her family’s farm, hiding the truth from him is impossible. And soon she must choose between the Englischer world of modeling and the Amish man she’s come to love


Caught between two worlds…
A Prodigal Daughters story
Deborah Miller lives a double life as an Amish woman—and a fashion model! All photography is forbidden in her Plain community, so she must keep her job a secret. But when Amos Burkholder starts helping at her family’s farm, hiding the truth from him is impossible. And soon she must choose between the Englischer world of modeling and the Amish man she’s come to love.
MARY DAVIS is an award-winning author of more than a dozen novels. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and is active in two critique groups. Mary lives in the Colorado Rocky Mountains with her husband of thirty years and three cats. She has three adult children and one grandchild. Her hobbies are quilting, porcelain doll making, sewing, crafts, crocheting and knitting. Please visit her website, marydavisbooks.com (http://www.marydavisbooks.com).
Also By Mary Davis (#ulink_ffd5d6f3-6fab-53c3-90b8-7894cb28caec)
Love Inspired
Prodigal Daughters
Courting Her Amish Heart
Courting Her Secret Heart
Love Inspired Heartsong Presents
Her Honorable Enemy
Romancing the Schoolteacher
Winning Olivia’s Heart
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Courting Her Secret Heart
Mary Davis


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08589-2
COURTING HER SECRET HEART
© 2018 Mary Davis
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“My head is full of daydreams and nonsense…”
Amos narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t nearly as out of touch with things as you would like your family to believe. I believe you’re quite smart and intuitive.”
Deborah’s expression changed to a mix of shock and…pleasure? “You think I’m smart?”
“I told you that you need to tell me where you’re going.”
She gave him a tight smile. “You weren’t here.” She turned toward the buggy. “You want me to help you with finishing up?”
He should press the issue, but he didn’t want to argue with her, didn’t want to scare her away. “I would like that. Next time, tell someone where you’re going. I know you don’t understand or believe it, but I do feel responsible for everyone.”
“But you’re not. I can take care of myself.”
But he wanted to look after her. “Sometimes your family may not notice you, but I do.”
And she rewarded him with a sweet smile that made his brain a little fuzzy.
Dear Reader (#u1691667a-967e-59d3-9241-3211579cac6c),
I hope you enjoyed the second book of the Prodigal Daughters miniseries, featuring Amish women with nontraditional hopes and dreams.
Before starting to write an Amish romance, I had to get to know who they were a little. Like a lot of people, I had preconceived notions of what the Amish were like. The more I researched the Amish, the more I fell in love with them. I learned things I never imagined and shattered the two-dimensional image I had of them and discovered a vibrant people.
I had so much fun coming up with these prodigal Amish women. As I said in the first book, I wanted to think of something an Amish person wouldn’t do. Being a fashion model is high on that list. My next challenge was getting her away from her family farm all the time without her family noticing. I felt so bad for Deborah that her family didn’t notice her regular absence, especially her mutter. So, I explored why they could be so callous toward her. If you’ve read this story, you know why, and if you haven’t yet, I won’t spoil it for you.
I loved getting to know Deborah and Amos and sharing their romance. Though Deborah may have thought she craved attention, she really just wanted to belong in her own family. Deborah’s prodigality was selfish, but when her family needed her, she was willing to sacrifice everything for them.
Deborah is dear to my heart not only because my heart ached for her misguided actions, but because I named her after my wonderful second oldest sister.
Until next time, happy reading!
Blessings,
Mary
No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.
—Matthew 6:24
German Proverb: Wer zwei Hasen auf einmal jagt bekommt keinen.
“He who chases two rabbits at once will catch none.”
Dedicated to my awesome sister Deborah Spencer.
A special thanks to Melissa Endlich
and the editorial team at Love Inspired and to Sarah Joy Freese and WordServe Literary Agency. I’m so thankful to work with you!
Contents
Cover (#u9221b4da-fa31-5fa4-ad8c-df83276ebe8a)
Back Cover Text (#u07d0434e-2808-58e6-8131-df2434b46c10)
About the Author (#u436acb09-a56a-5572-8c47-488cabc55f42)
Booklist (#ulink_78df67f8-7fe3-5900-ae7d-29778c0d6a38)
Title Page (#u487a9ba1-e221-573d-b0b4-b453d1fb52cb)
Copyright (#uf5afd0d9-660b-5561-999e-3b81a7d76e88)
Introduction (#u27a0100e-4f44-5de4-96fb-9df968c4b674)
Dear Reader (#u932632ff-16f6-5473-bed8-8f636d8412d5)
Bible Verse (#ueee5eb85-597b-594a-9752-cbe6e6b38c64)
Dedication (#udd17947d-daf9-50eb-be24-1470ec5cae50)
Chapter One (#u93308791-6d18-5789-b541-9620efb0349e)
Chapter Two (#u102e8542-b21b-5703-9c91-7287de9110a3)
Chapter Three (#u1e727512-d031-52e6-a875-9d9f08463d7b)
Chapter Four (#u4a448e35-9216-51d3-8807-653c1f9e30a1)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u1691667a-967e-59d3-9241-3211579cac6c)
Elkhart County, Indiana
Deborah Miller ran to the clump of bare sycamore trees at the far edge of the pond on her family’s property. Fortunately, the latest round of snow had melted and the ground had dried, so she wouldn’t be leaving tracks.
Several ducks squawked their disapproval of her presence. With indignation, they waddled and flapped onto the frozen water.
Deborah cringed. “Sorry to disturb you. I’ll bring you some bread crusts tomorrow.”
The largest tree in the grove had a tangle of many trunks from its base, creating an empty space in the center. She scurried over and dropped her green, tan and white camouflage backpack into the hollow. A sprinkle of dried leaves on top, and no one would ever find it. Truth be told, she could leave her pack out in the open and no one would likely notice it. It would blend in with the tree’s patchwork bark.
She took off for the house, running between the stubbly winter cornfield rows. She was going to be late. She’d lost track of time, which was her usual excuse, but this time it was true. She could be gone all day and no one in her family ever noticed her absence. Or if they did, they never mentioned it. Apparently, keeping track of so many girls was too much trouble to bother with. Seven. And she was right smack-dab in the middle. Not the oldest. Not the youngest. Not anything.
Of late, everyone was fussing over Hannah and Lydia, who were both planning to marry this fall. Although no one was supposed to know, since neither wedding would be officially announced until late summer or early fall, but a lot of celery would be planted in the garden this spring. After all, they couldn’t have Amish weddings without celery.
It had been a gut photo shoot today. The sun was shining, and though cold out, it had been a perfect day. Even if by some strange chance her absence had been noticed and she got scolded for being gone, it wouldn’t dampen her mood. Nothing could spoil today.
Deborah pulled her coat tighter around herself as she slowed down and entered the yard, finding it oddly quiet. She needed to look as though she hadn’t been in a hurry and just lost track of time, as usual.
Chickens pecked at the ground, but no people could be seen. Where was everyone? Were all her sisters in the house with Mutter? That was peculiar. One or two were often outside at this time of day. Unusual to have caught them all in the kitchen.
An Amish man came out of the barn, carrying two empty buckets.
Who was he? She’d never seen him before. Though dressed Amish, she had to wonder if he belonged to their community. His light brown hair peeked out from under his black felt hat. The brim shaded his face. Just the type of rugged Amish man that Hudson, her photographer, had repeatedly asked her to find for photo shoots. What was this stranger doing on their farm?
She approached him. “Who are you?” Her words puffed out on little white clouds.
“I’m Amos Burkholder. Who are you?” He smiled.
A warm, inviting, disarming smile. The kind that could make her forget her purpose. A smile she wouldn’t mind retreating into. She mentally shook herself free of his spell. “I’m Deborah Miller. I live here. What are you doing on our farm? And where’s my family?”
“Deborah? I was told the whole family went to the hospital. What are you doing here?”
“Hospital? Why?” Her family went to the hospital and hadn’t noticed her absence? It figured.
“Bartholomew Miller had an accident. An ambulance came. Bishop Bontrager asked me to take care of things here until you all returned and your vater was able to work again.”
“My vater? Accident? What happened? Is he all right?”
“I don’t know the details. But if the bishop thinks your vater will be well enough to work his farm again, then I think he will be all right eventually. Would you like me to drive you into Goshen to the hospital?”
Deborah shook her head. “If I hitch up the smaller buggy, I can drive myself.”
“I’ll hitch it.”
“Danki.” Deborah ran into the house to grab her bag of sewing. In case she had a while to wait at the hospital, she wanted to have something to keep herself distracted from too much worry. When she came back out, Amos wasn’t much further along in getting the buggy ready.
Impatient, Deborah stalked over to the horse standing in the yard and took hold of the harness on the other side from Amos.
He stopped his progress. “I’m capable of doing this myself.”
Deborah hooked the belly strap. “I know.” What Amish person didn’t know how to hitch up a horse to a buggy by themself by age ten or twelve? “If I help, it’ll go faster.”
After a deep breath, he got back to the work at hand. Once the buggy was hitched and ready to go, he climbed in the side opposite her and took charge of the reins.
She put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you into town.”
“I told you that I can drive a buggy myself.”
“I know and have no doubt you’re capable, but you’re flustered over the news of your vater, and it would be best if you don’t drive in your present state.”
“Present state? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He tilted his head. “Are you getting in? Or would you rather walk to town?”
With a huff, she climbed aboard and plopped down on the seat. “You are insufferable.”
He handed her a quilt for her lap, then gently snapped the reins and clucked the horse into motion. “If by insufferable you mean helpful, then danki.”
Why was she being so ill-tempered? This wasn’t like her. Maybe it was the news of her vater being injured. Or maybe it was her guilt of being away from the house when it happened. Or maybe it was because she knew she had been doing something her vater, her family and the community would frown upon. Or maybe it was all three. Whatever the reason, Amos didn’t deserve her poor attitude when he was being so helpful and kind. “I’m sorry for being difficult. I’m worried about my vater.”
“That’s understandable.”
She blew into her hands to warm them, then slipped on her knitted mittens. “I haven’t seen you before. Do you belong to a neighboring community district?”
“Ne. We live on the other side of the district. We moved here a year ago from Pennsylvania. We’re at church every other Sunday. You’ve even been to church at our farm. We obviously haven’t made a memorable impression on you. Or at least I haven’t.”
How could she not remember him? “Tell me a little about your family to remind me.”
“I am the youngest of five boys. The two oldest stayed in Pennsylvania and split the farm we had there.”
“I think I know who you are, or at least your family. I’m the middle of seven girls.”
“I know. I’ve seen you in church along with all your sisters.”
He’d noticed her?
“Tell me something, is Miriam spoken for or being courted by anyone?”
Evidently, he had his eye on her sister, who was a little over a year older than herself. That meant, it hadn’t been Deborah he’d noticed at church, but her sister. Disappointing. Someone else who overlooked her. “Timothy Zook seems interested in her.”
“Is she interested in him?”
“Some days ja, and others ne. Miriam likes a lot of boys. She can’t seem to decide which one she likes most. She’s so afraid of choosing the wrong man to marry, we fear she’ll never marry at all.” Deborah pulled a face. “I probably shouldn’t have told you all that. Please don’t hold it against her. She’s a very wonderful sister.”
His chuckle held no humor.
Was it truly Miriam she didn’t want him to think of poorly, or herself because of her derogatory words? Why should she care what this man thought of her? But she did. “Can you hurry? I need to know how my vater is.”
“I’m going as fast as the Ordnung allows.”
“But this is kind of an emergency. You would be allowed to go faster.”
He thinned his lips. “This isn’t an emergency. Your vater’s being well looked after. Whether it takes us five minutes or five hours to get there will have no bearing on your vater’s condition.”
He was right, of course, but she had already missed so much. She very much wished they were going by car. “When was my vater hurt?”
“First thing this morning.”
So long ago? He must have gotten hurt soon after she had slipped away. Now she really did feel guilty.
Like Amos said, if she got to the hospital with everyone else or in the next hour, she wouldn’t have been able to make a difference. But at least she could have been with her family. And know what was going on.
She settled her nerves for the plodding, boring journey. “Do you miss Pennsylvania?”
“Ne.”
That was a sharp reply.
“But you grew up there. Your friends are there. The rest of your family is there. Don’t you miss any of them?”
“Ne.”
Again, his single word sounded harsh.
“There’s nothing for me back there. This move was supposed to be gut.”
But she sensed it wasn’t. She wanted to press him, to understand why he seemed to harbor bitterness toward the place where he’d grown up, but doubted he would tell her anything. After all, they were basically strangers.
Eventually, Amos pulled in next to several other buggies outside the hospital.
She jumped out. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll get a ride back with my family. Danki.” She trotted inside. She inquired at the information desk and soon found her family, with all her sisters, as well as several other community members. Her vater sat in a wheelchair, waiting to be discharged.
His left arm rested in a sling, and his left leg was in a cast and propped on a pillow on one of the wheelchair’s leg supports. He’d chosen neon green. Would the church leaders approve of the color? Probably not, but they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until he had the cast changed in a few weeks.
Thirteen-year-old Naomi made a face at her.
Deborah ignored her younger sister, who liked to stir up trouble, and hurried over to him. “Vater, are you all right?”
Vater gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m feeling great. They gave me something for the pain. But I don’t have any pain.”
“There you are, Deborah.” Her mutter frowned. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to. Did you go to the vending machines without telling me?”
Vending machines? Hadn’t her mutter noticed that Deborah had only just now arrived? That she’d been absent all day? Was she truly invisible to her family? Did any of them even care? No wonder she could be gone for hours and hours without repercussions. No one ever realized her absence.
Amos joined them then. “How are you doing, Mr. Miller?”
Vater waved his hands aimlessly through the air. “It’s Bartholomew. I don’t have any pain.”
Deborah turned to Amos. “I thought you left.”
“If you would have waited, I would have walked in with you.” He turned to Mutter. “I brought Deborah.”
Mutter gave Deborah a double take. “You weren’t here? Then where were you?”
Oh, dear. “I went for a walk, and before I knew it, I had gone farther than I realized, and it took me a while to get back home.”
“Oh.” Mutter turned back to the nurse behind Vater’s wheelchair. “Are we leaving now? I want to leave now. I have supper to start.”
“We need to wait for the doctor to sign the release papers.”
How had any of them survived infancy and childhood with Mutter always forgetting things? Well, mostly forgetting Deborah. She didn’t have trouble with the rest of her daughters. Just her middlemost one.
The familiar pang of being left out twisted around her heart. One of these days, she might decide not to return. Would her mutter even notice? Probably not.
Well, it had been a perfect day until she’d come home and found out her world had been turned upside down.
Amos’s inviting brown gaze settled on her. She wished now the buggy ride had taken longer. His look of sympathy warmed her heart. Well, at least he acknowledged her presence.
* * *
Amos studied Miriam, who smiled at everyone in the hospital waiting room. Did she truly like a lot of young men? Or was she just really nice? He’d been fooled by girls before. More than once. His gaze shifted back to Deborah. She stood on the edge of the crowd, with them but not really a part of them. How could no one have noticed she hadn’t been with the family when they left for the hospital? Or at least once they arrived. He admired how she seemed to take that in stride. The hospital lights didn’t spark the red hints in her hair the way the sun had.
Deborah turned to him, and he smiled at her without thinking. Her green eyes seemed as though she could see his broken heart. There was something more to her than met the eye. Something he couldn’t quite figure out. Like she had some sort of secret. Probably just his own guilty conscience. He didn’t want to look away, but he did.
From down the hall, a man stared at him. It was his cousin Jacob. His shunned cousin Jacob, who’d left the Amish church and community. He glanced back at the crowd of his fellow Amish waiting for Bartholomew to be released.
He moved around the crowd to Bishop Bontrager. “I have something I need to take care of. Will you let the Millers know that I’ll meet them back at their farm?”
The bishop nodded. “Ja.Danki for agreeing to lend them a hand. Bartholomew is going to be laid up for some time. Will your vater be able to spare you to stay on at the Millers’?”
“Ja. I’m sure he can.” His vater had already declared the farm not big enough for Amos. He glanced in the direction where Jacob had been. “I won’t be far behind everyone.” As he hurried down the hall, he threw a glance back over his shoulder at Deborah and almost went back to her, but didn’t. When he turned the corner, he came upon his cousin, who was leaning against the wall. Jacob looked strange but gut in his English clothes, jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. They suited his cousin. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw you drive up with one of the Miller girls. Quite a collection of Amish you’re with. None of them your family, though. And the bishop.”
“Bartholomew Miller broke his leg.” Amos glanced back to make sure no one had followed him. “The bishop asked me to help out at their farm while they took him to the hospital.”
Jacob nodded. “You seemed pretty content with all of them. Are you still interested in leaving?”
Amos’s insides knotted. This would be a life-changing decision, but he didn’t see the use of the Amish life anymore. His vater didn’t have land enough for all his sons, and the Amish girls here seemed no different from the flighty ones back in Pennsylvania. Except Deborah. She seemed different. But that was what he’d thought about Esther. And Bethany. “Ja, of course I am.”
“It might take a few weeks to get everything set up. I’ll be in touch with more information.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you.” Once away from the community and no longer having to keep this a secret, he’d feel better about his decision. “I should go before they get suspicious.” Amos could be shunned just for talking to an ex-Amish member. But once he left, he would be shunned and turned over to the devil and excommunicated from the church, as well.
“See you soon.” Jacob walked off in the opposite direction of the waiting room.
Amos peeked around the corner. None of his Amish brethren remained, only a handful of Englishers. He straightened before heading down the hall and out to the buggy parking area.
The only buggy that remained was the one he’d driven into town. Deborah sat on the buggy seat, rubbing her mitten-clad hands briskly together. She turned in his direction, and his heart sped up.
He stopped beside the vehicle. Though she wore a kapp, the sun once again ignited the hints of red in her hair around her face. “What are you still doing here? Why didn’t you go with the others?”
The quilt lay across her lap. “All the other buggies were full.”
That was a little sad. She’d been left behind. Now he felt bad for making her wait.
She picked up the reins and tilted her head. “Are you getting in? Or would you rather walk?”
Throwing his words back at him? Little scamp. But she’d lightened his mood. He climbed in and extended his hands for the reins.
She moved them from his reach and snapped the horse into motion.
He couldn’t believe she’d just done that. It was audacious. “I should drive.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the man and you’re a woman.”
She set her jaw and kept control of the reins. “I’m quite capable, danki.”
She certainly seemed so, as well as a little bit feisty. He wanted to drive, but unless he wrestled the reins away from her, it didn’t seem likely. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“Ne.” Her answer was short and clipped.
“It certainly seems like I did. No one else around for you to be angry at.”
She tossed the reins into his lap. “Take them if you want to drive so badly.”
Now he had vexed her. He didn’t want the reins this way and was tempted to leave them where they were, but that wouldn’t do for the horse to have no guidance. With the reins in hand, he pulled to the side of the street in front of an antique store and stopped. “If I haven’t upset you, then what has?”
She took a slow breath, and for a moment, he doubted she would answer him, but then she let out a huff of white air. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Ja, it does. Tell me.” Why did it bother him so much that she was upset? He should just let it go and get back to her family’s farm.
“My family went off to the hospital and didn’t notice I wasn’t with them.”
That could be quite upsetting, but he’d thought that hadn’t bothered her. He’d been wrong. “They were probably all worried about your vater. Focused on getting him the care he needed.”
She sat quietly for a moment, and he could almost feel her mood shift. “You’re right. I was being selfish. Only thinking of myself. I have a habit of doing that. Danki.”
He smiled. “Bitte.” He liked that he could help her and appreciated her honesty. Something he’d found lacking in others.
She waved her mittened hand in the air. “Shall we go?”
He lifted the reins but then paused and handed them over to her. “You can drive.”
The smile she gifted him with and the spark in her green eyes as she took the reins warmed him all over.
Chapter Two (#u1691667a-967e-59d3-9241-3211579cac6c)
Amos sat forward on the buggy seat as the Miller farm came into view. What would people think of him not driving? He was the man, after all. He should be driving. Instinct told him to take the reins, but something held him back. He gritted his teeth, hoping no one would be out in the yard.
Deborah pulled on one rein and slackened the other to turn into the driveway.
Though several buggies, the chickens and two cats were scattered about the yard, fortunately no people were in sight.
She stopped the buggy in front of the house. “Do you mind putting this away by yourself? I want to see how my vater’s doing.”
He gladly took the offered reins. “I’d be happy to.” He breathed easier having the strips of leather in his hands. How foolish of him, but he couldn’t help feeling that way. “Tell your vater not to worry about the animals. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Danki. But I think he probably still has enough pain medication in him to not worry about much of anything right now.” She jogged up the porch steps and into the house.
He stared at the door for a moment, feeling a sense of loss. But that couldn’t be. He hadn’t lost anything. At least not anything new. With a shake of his head, he drove the buggy to the barn. After unhitching the horse, he put the animal in a stall, then parked the buggy in its space inside the barn. Being an open buggy, it needed to be protected from the elements. With the harness put away, he brushed down the horse and fed him.
His encounter with his cousin Jacob played in his head. He needed to get off his vater’s farm and experience the outside world more than he had on Rumspringa, with a different purpose this time. If he wasn’t going to have land to farm and would have to work in the Englisher world anyway, he might as well live there, too, and be a part of it.
Amos would have left the first time when Jacob suggested it if there had been some place for him to go, but today was a different matter. The image of Deborah standing on the edge of her family at the hospital tugged at his heart. She needed him. This family needed him. Bartholomew needed him. And he needed them so he wouldn’t have to be on his family’s farm until he left for gut. This would make the wait more bearable.
He heard the humming of a female enter the barn. Deborah? He peeked out of the stall he was in as someone disappeared into the stall with the milking cow, but he couldn’t tell who. He brushed down the front of his coat and trousers to remove hay particles, then stepped into the stall doorway.
Miriam glanced up at him with a smile from where she sat on a three-legged stool. “Hallo, Amos Burkholder.”
His smile sagged a bit. “Hallo.” This was gut that it wasn’t Deborah. He shouldn’t be thinking of her. “Your job to milk the cow?”
She leaned her head against the animal’s side and began the task with a swish-swish-swish. “Ja.”
“Do you and your sisters trade off with this duty?”
“Ne, I like milking. There is something soothing about it. It’s just me and Sybil.”
“I’m sorry. Would you like me to go away?”
“Ne.”
He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not at having to stay. “Tell me about your sisters.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. I figure if I’m going to be working on your farm, I should know a little about everyone.”
She nodded. “Hannah and Lydia are twins—identical. Hannah is the ultraresponsible one. Lydia is the peacemaker. They are both being courted and will likely get married this fall. Then comes me. A lot of people say I’m the positive one. I do try to see the gut in situations.”
That was not how Deborah had described her. What was it she had said? That Miriam liked a lot of boys. Likely, there wasn’t one young man in particular who had caught her attention yet.
“Then Deborah. After her comes Joanna. She’s the gut one. Not that the rest of us aren’t gut, but she was an easy baby and has always been easy to please. She’s also quite shy. Naomi’s thirteen and can be moody. She likes to be the center of attention. And lastly is carefree baby Sarah at eight. She is easily everyone’s favorite, and the sweetest of us all.”
Everyone got a description except Deborah. “What about Deborah?”
“What about her?”
“You gave everyone a little description except her.”
“Did I? Hmm. Deborah is...irres—rarely here.”
Was she about to say irresponsible? True, Deborah hadn’t been around when her vater had been hurt, but that didn’t necessarily make her irresponsible.
When Miriam finished milking, Amos hoisted the full bucket and carried it to the house.
Miriam opened the door to the kitchen and allowed him to enter first. The kitchen bustled with female activity. He was used to just his mutter in the kitchen, alone, doing all the work by herself.
Deborah looked up from her task of churning butter with the youngest girl and smiled at him.
He responded in kind.
Her gaze flickered away from him to where Miriam appeared, and Deborah’s smile faltered, then she pushed her mouth up in a less genuine smile, but one of encouragement.
He wished he could bring back that first smile. What had caused the change? More important, how could he bring back the first smile?
“Right this way, Amos.” Miriam motioned with her hand for him to follow her. “That goes in the back fridge until morning.”
Amos aimed his apologetic shrug toward Deborah as he obediently complied. When he returned, Deborah’s mutter stood in his path.
Teresa Miller put her hands on her hips and gave him an impish smile. “We do so love company, but you can’t walk through my kitchen without introducing yourself.”
“I’m Amos Burkholder.”
“Which one of my daughters are you courting?”
“Um, none. I’m here to help out on the farm while Bartholomew is healing.”
Shock and concern wiped away the older woman’s smile in an instant. “What? What’s wro—”
One of the older girls hooked her arm around her mutter’s shoulders and escorted her out of the kitchen. “Let’s go see how Vater is doing.”
Another of the older sisters stood in front of him. “Supper will be ready in a little bit. We’ll call you when it’s ready.”
This must be Lydia, the peacemaker. The one who left with their mutter must have been Hannah, the ultraresponsible one. Or it could be vice versa. He wasn’t sure. He nodded and went back outside to finish up some chores.
Soon, another one of the sisters came out to retrieve him. “Supper’s ready.” She kept her head down.
“Danki. I’ll head in with you.” He walked to her side. “I didn’t mean to upset your mutter earlier.”
Her head remained down and her voice soft. “You didn’t. She was just worried about Vater.”
It had seemed like more than worry. But then, what did he know?
This shy girl must be Joanna. It would probably be best if he didn’t stress her by trying to hold a meaningless conversation just to quiet the silence.
Inside, he washed up and waited to be told where he should sit at the table.
Bartholomew sat alone at the far end of the table, his broken leg propped up on a chair. The women still scurried to and fro.
The youngest, who looked to be more like five than eight, crashed into him and wrapped her chubby arms around his waist. “Broffer Amos.”
He wasn’t sure what to make of this little one. “Hallo, Sarah.”
She giggled.
One of the twins, he guessed Lydia, hurried over and disentangled the young one from him. “I’m sorry about that. She likes to greet people with a hug.”
“That’s all right.” He gazed down into the upturned face of Sarah. Her slanted eyes and flat nose told him all he needed to know. Down syndrome. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Lydia smiled at him but spoke to Sarah. “Go sit down. It’s time to eat.”
Sarah grabbed his hand. “Sit by me.”
He looked to Lydia, who gave him a nod. He sat, and quickly the others did so, as well. Bartholomew blessed the food, and everyone served themselves except Sarah. Hannah, who sat on her other side, dished up for her.
Bartholomew grimaced in pain. His medication had probably worn off. “Amos, I certainly do appreciate you coming to help out in my hour of need.”
“I’m glad to be here.”
Teresa tilted her head. “Hour? It’ll be a mite more than that.” Her anxiety from earlier had been erased.
The girl directly across from Amos crinkled her nose. “I bet you don’t even know who all of us are.”
Center of attention. “You’re Naomi.”
He went around the table and named each of the family members.
Naomi narrowed her eyes. She obviously didn’t think he could do it.
He wasn’t so sure himself but had guessed right. Miriam’s descriptions had helped. When he’d named Deborah and she smiled at him, something inside did a little flip. That was the smile he’d been looking for. He wanted to stop and stare at her but knew he shouldn’t.
He cleared his throat to regain his train of thought and shifted his attention to Bartholomew. “I could, of course, travel home each night and return in the morning, but I would be able to get more work accomplished if I stayed on here.”
Bartholomew swallowed his mouthful of food. “What did you have in mind?”
“I thought I could sleep in the barn.”
Teresa spoke up. “I won’t hear of that. The barn is no place for a person in winter.”
Bartholomew gazed gently at his frau. “What would you suggest, Mutter?”
“Joanna and Naomi can move in with Miriam and...” She waved her hand in Deborah’s direction. “And her sister.”
A sadness flickered across Deborah’s face, and Amos’s heart ached for her. He knew what it was like to be hurt by family.
Naomi leaned forward. “I don’t want to move rooms and be crowded in.”
“Hush,” Bartholomew scolded his daughter, and she huffed and folded her arms. Then he turned back to his frau. “You would have a young man who isn’t a family member under the same roof as our daughters?”
Teresa’s gaze flittered around the table, and the inappropriateness of the situation registered on her face. “Oh. I...”
Amos didn’t want to cause a fuss. “I don’t want to displace anyone. The barn will be fine. There’s an old woodstove still connected in the tack room. I can move a few things around and set up a cot.” It was preferable to home.
With supper concluded and the arrangements settled, Amos headed out to fix up his new but temporary living quarters.
He located some firewood and lit the stove. Then he made a clearing in the center of the room and set up the cot that was used when an animal was sick and someone needed to stay in the barn to keep a watchful eye out.
A gray tabby rubbed against his leg. He crouched and petted him. “What’s your name, hmm?”
The cat sauntered over to the stove, sniffed it and lay down in front of it.
“Don’t get too comfortable. You can’t stay in here at night with the door closed. You can warm yourself until I find some blankets.”
When he exited the tack room, Deborah stood outside his door with an armful of quilts. She smiled. “We thought you might need these.” She handed him the pile. “There’s a pillow, as well.”
“Danki. These’ll be better than the horse blankets I was planning to rustle up.”
“Bitte.” Her gaze lingered on him a long moment before she turned to leave.
He wanted to say something to make her stay. But what use would there be in that? Instead, he watched her walk out.
* * *
The following morning, Deborah stole glances at Amos throughout breakfast. Several times, she caught him looking back at her.
Vater hadn’t come to the table for breakfast. Fortunately, his and Mutter’s bedroom was on the main floor, so he wouldn’t have to go up and down the stairs with a broken leg and injured arm. Though Mutter had scurried around the kitchen earlier, she had gone in to sit with Vater. Since Vater’s accident, less than a day ago, Mutter had acted stranger than usual. One moment she sat calmly, and the next she scampered about like a nervous squirrel looking for lost acorns.
Amos drained the last of his coffee. “Danki for breakfast. I should get to work.”
“Would you like another cup?” For some reason, she didn’t want him to leave yet. It was nice having another man around the farm. Or was it that it was just different for all the girls? Or was it having a kind, handsome, eligible man around?
His mouth curved up into a smile that tickled her insides. “Danki. Maybe later.” He gazed at her for a moment before trudging outside.
After he left, she stared at the door for a bit longer than she should before she turned to her sisters. “What do you need me to do?”
Lydia had taken charge of the kitchen cleanup. “I think we have everything covered.”
Her sisters bustled around, busy at work. Even Naomi helped, and Sarah had her little job of sorting the silverware. The only other one not there, besides their parents, was Hannah.
Deborah headed for her parents’ room and peeked in around the door frame. “Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?”
Mutter held a plate while Vater ate with his gut arm.
Hannah gingerly tucked a pillow under Vater’s broken leg. “We’re gut. See if the others need help in the kitchen.”
Deborah gave a weak smile. She’d already done that. “Vater, I’m praying you heal quickly.”
“Danki.”
She left. With nothing to do inside, she headed outside and found Amos in the barn.
He stood below the hayloft, staring up at the underside of the floor above.
“What are you doing?”
He turned to her, and his mouth pulled up at the corners. “Trying to decide the best way to fix this.”
She liked his smile. A lot. She stood next to him and looked to where he pointed. A hole roughly the size of a laundry basket had opened up through several of the boards, and hay hung down in the opening. “What happened?”
Shifting, he stared at her. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Your vater fell through there and landed here on the floor. Fortunately, there weren’t any tools, boxes or barrels for him to get further injured on.”
She pictured her vater falling and gasped. She hadn’t thought to ask just how he’d gotten hurt. All she knew was that he had fallen.
“The boards look pretty rotted. They should have been replaced long before now.”
“Why hadn’t he done that?”
“He was probably too busy with running the rest of the farm on his own to notice. I’ll check all the boards and build a new loft floor if need be. I figure I can do some of the regular maintenance he couldn’t get to and repair what needs repairing until I... Until it’s time to plow and plant.”
“Do you think he’s going to be in a cast that long?”
“Hard to say. Some people’s bones heal faster than others’. But even if he’s out of the cast, his leg will be weak. He’ll need time to regain his strength.”
“What can I do to help?”
He chuffed out a chuckle. “What? I’m sure there’s plenty to be done in the house.”
“Hannah and Lydia are taking care of Vater while overseeing the breakfast cleanup as well as the early prep for lunch. Everyone’s busy with their regular duties, leaving nothing for me except free time.” She didn’t even have a modeling job today. That would have been nice to get her mind off Vater being hurt.
“This isn’t woman’s work.”
“If you haven’t noticed, my vater has seven girls. We’ve all done a bit of carpentry, livestock tending and even some plowing. So let me help.”
“Danki for the offer, but I can manage.”
If she was a man, he’d accept her help. “Well, I have nothing else to do, so I’m not leaving.” She backed up to a covered feed barrel, pushed herself up and sat. “If you won’t let me help with the labor, I’ll supervise from here.” The truth was, she just wanted to be out here with him.
He stared at her hard for a long moment. “You are going to tell me how to fix this?”
“It’s either that or put me to work.” The work would go faster if he allowed her to help. Would he be too stubborn and insist on doing it alone? If so, he deserved to have a more difficult time than need be, and he deserved to have her comment on every little thing he did.
“Fine. But you have to do as I say. I don’t want you getting hurt, as well.”
She hopped off the barrel and saluted him.
He shook his head at her playful gesture. “First we need to determine how sturdy the rest of this floor is.” He handed her a shovel, and he grabbed a pitchfork for himself. “Tap the underside of the boards with the end of the handle.” He demonstrated with his implement.
Deborah poked at a board to show him that not only did she understand his elementary instructions, but that she could also follow his directions as ordered. Then she smiled.
He worked his mouth back and forth, presumably to keep from smiling himself. His effort created a cute expression.
She studied her shovel from tip to end. She didn’t like the idea of lifting the heavy metal blade up and down. The repetitive movement would give her sore muscles, for sure. After looking around, she leaned the shovel against the wall and grabbed a push broom. Putting her foot on the head, she twisted the handle several times, freeing it. This was lighter. Much better for repetitive motions. She twirled it around once and went to work tapping and poking. “Tell me about your family.”
Amos shrugged. “Like what?”
“Parents. Siblings.”
“I have two parents and four brothers.”
Not very forthcoming with information. She was going to have to work harder at learning anything about him. She would start with something easy and hope he got the hint and freely offered up more details. “What are your parents’ names?”
“Joseph and Karen.”
At least half the boards she poked at were usable for the time being, although they would need to be replaced soon. The other half of them were splintery and soft. “What about your brothers?”
“James, Boaz, Daniel and Titus.”
She felt like growling and poking him with a stick. Couldn’t he give her more information? Did he not want to talk to her? Well, she wasn’t about to work in silence. Her sisters chatted all the time while doing chores. “Where do you fit into all of them?”
“Youngest.”
Really? Nothing more than that? She did growl now, softly to herself, and jabbed her stick at the next board. It poked through, splintering the wood in half. Hay showered down on her from between the dangling halves.
Amos rushed over and pulled her out of the way as one of the jagged pieces broke free and shot straight down to where she’d been standing. She could have been seriously injured.
Caught off guard by his action, she lost her balance and grasped at his sleeve. Her body twisted, and gravity did the rest of the work, landing her in a pile of straw.
Between her yanking on his sleeve and his trying to catch her, he lost his footing as well and landed in the straw beside her with one arm stretched across to the other side of her. His eyes went wide. “Are you all right? Did you get hurt?”
He looked so adorable in his worried state that a giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it.
His mouth pulled up at the corners. “I guess that means you’re not hurt.”
She nodded and wrestled her chortling under control.
He plucked hay off her cheek and forehead. “You’re covered.”
She imagined she was but didn’t help him, liking his ministrations.
His hand stilled, and he stared down at her for a long moment.
What was he thinking?
Clearing his throat, he pushed himself up to his feet, then offered her assistance. His hand was large and strong. And warm.
As soon as she was on her feet, he released her quickly as though embarrassed, and stared up at the ceiling. “Too many of the boards are rotted beyond repair, and the ones that are serviceable won’t be for long. It would be best to replace the whole floor. I’ll take the wagon into town and order the necessary lumber.”
Now he was chatty? Or had their little moment made him uncomfortable? She missed the moment of closeness they’d just shared. Would they have another one in the future? She hoped so.
Chapter Three (#u1691667a-967e-59d3-9241-3211579cac6c)
The next morning, Amos was sent into town by the oldest twin, Hannah, to pick up some medicine for Bartholomew Miller. Though identical in most respects, he noted that Hannah had a worry crease between her eyebrows, which helped him to differentiate the two sisters.
He now drove back along the paved road. Floyd plodded along. The rhythm of his clip-clopping hoofbeats lulled Amos’s thoughts—thoughts that drifted to his cousin. Jacob was gut to help Amos. Amos wouldn’t know what to do on the outside. Having his cousin’s guidance made him feel less anxious about the whole endeavor. Jacob knew all about Amos’s hurts back in Pennsylvania. How Esther had let him court her and led him to believe she cared for him, only to turn down his offer of marriage. Then when he’d arrived in Indiana, the situation was nearly repeated with Bethany.
Then his thoughts turned to the Millers’ farm. The work there was gut. Gave him purpose. And being around all those women would give him insight into the female mind. Maybe then he could figure out what he’d done wrong in the past.
Up ahead, an Amish woman meandered in the middle of the two-lane country road.
What was she doing?
A car came down the road, honked and swerved around her.
She sidestepped but didn’t move to the side of the road.
He snapped the reins to hurry the horse. When he pulled up beside her, he said, “Ma’am?”
She faced him but didn’t really look at him.
“Teresa? Teresa Miller?” He hauled back on the reins.
“Ja.” She raised her hand to shade her eyes from the morning winter sun.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I was going somewhere.” She chuckled. “But I seem to have forgotten where.”
That didn’t explain why she was in the middle of the road. He jumped down. “Come. I’ll drive you home.”
“That would be nice. Danki.” She climbed into the buggy and waited.
How odd. But other than her being in the middle of the road, he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was off about this encounter. He got in and took her home.
When he drove into the yard and up to the house, the twins rushed outside without coats on. Hannah opened the buggy door and took Teresa’s hand. “Mutter, where have you been? We’ve been looking for you.” A forced cheeriness laced her words.
“I went for a nice little walk.” She patted Amos’s arm. “But I was safe.”
Hannah helped her mutter out and exchanged glances with Lydia. Hannah’s gaze flickered to him. “Danki.”
“Bitte.” Amos held out the paper sack with the prescription. “Here’s your vater’s medication.”
Lydia took it. “Danki.” The women rushed into the house, leaving Amos to wonder.
Women. They behaved strangely. How was a man to figure them out? Maybe it was impossible, and he should give up on them altogether.
A while after Miriam had completed the late-afternoon milking, Amos headed to the house for supper. Though he’d been mulling over this morning’s incident with Teresa all day and wanted to ask about it, he decided not to embarrass her by mentioning anything.
He stepped through the kitchen door into barely ordered chaos. One girl went this way while another went that way and two others looked to be on a collision course, but both swerved in the appropriate directions and barely missed running into each other. The women seemed to almost read each others’ minds with each one going in a different direction. How did they ever get anything accomplished? But somehow they managed to pull supper together.
Maybe there was some order to their mayhem he couldn’t detect. That men in general couldn’t. He would like to figure it out but sensed he could spend a lifetime and never understand women. He should give up even trying anymore.
Teresa Miller smiled and came over to him. “My brother stopped by and brought some of your things. They are in a suitcase by the front door.”
“Your brother?”
“Ja. David. He wore that blue shirt I made him for his birthday.”
Hannah gave a nervous-sounding giggle, and the crease between her eyebrows deepened. “She meant your brother.”
He didn’t have a brother named David. Maybe she meant Daniel.
“Ne. I didn’t—”
Lydia put her arm around Teresa, effectively distracting her. “Mutter, did you get the cake frosted?” The two walked to the far side of the kitchen.
Why did the twins seem nervous? Calling someone by the wrong name was common enough. Most everyone had done it. How many times had he been called by one of his brothers’ names? If he had a cookie for every time, he’d be fat.
Hannah spoke to Amos. “Why don’t you take your suitcase out to the barn? It’s going to take a few minutes to get everything on the table.”
Was she trying to distract him?
“All right.” He snagged the case and headed out to the barn. That had been strange. But then this had been a bit of a strange day. And he was surrounded by women who didn’t behave or think like men. They were mysterious creatures whose sole purpose was to confuse and distract men.
He set the case on his bed and saw, out of the corner of his eye, the tabby dart in. When he turned to look, the cat dashed back out. What had scared it? He leaned to look on the other side of the potbellied stove, where the cat had run from.
A tiny kitten with its eyes still closed was lying on the ground. It raised its wobbly head and let out a small mew.
Amos picked it up. “Where has your mutter gone?” It seemed females of all species acted strange. He stepped out of the room and scanned the dim interior of the barn.
From the hayloft, the tabby trotted down the slanted ladder with another kitten hanging from her mouth. She ignored Amos and darted into his room. She quickly came back out and meowed at him. Then she put her paws on his leg and meowed again.
“I have your little one.” He crouched down and she took the kitten from him.
He followed her into the tack room. “How many little ones do you have?”
She obviously liked the warmth of the stove for her babies. She looked from him to beside the stove and back again.
He waved his hand. “Go on. Get the others. I’m not going to make you sleep in the cold.”
She darted out.
Amos snagged an unused crate, put in a layer of straw and then an old towel. By the time the mutter cat returned with number three, Amos had the crate with the two kittens in it next to the heat.
The tabby peered over the edge of the box, jumped in with the third kitten and lay down.
“I’ll figure out how to keep the door open and stay warm later.”
When he headed back to the house, all the girls sat silently at the table, hands folded in their laps. No one fluttered about. He could have waited until later to take out his suitcase. It didn’t matter now. He sat next to Sarah as before.
As well as Bartholomew, Teresa and one of the twins weren’t at the table. Which twin was here? She had the crease between her eyebrows, so she must be Hannah.
After the blessings, Hannah jumped right into conversation. “Now, tell me about the barn. Are you comfortable out there? If you would rather return home, I’m sure we can manage. You must miss your family.”
He actually didn’t miss his family as much as he’d imagined he might, and he preferred the barn to home. Maybe leaving the community wouldn’t be as hard as he anticipated. “I’m quite comfortable. Danki.”
Hannah continued, “We wouldn’t want to keep you or put your parents in a bad position by insisting you stay.”
He glanced around the table. Except for Deborah and Miriam, the younger girls paid no attention to Hannah’s words. “My parents and brothers can manage quite well without me.” His brothers would be running the farm soon enough without him; they’d might as well start now.
Deborah glanced from Hannah to Miriam, seemingly trying to figure out things, as well. She shook her head and went back to eating.
Miriam stared hard at him and then stabbed a cooked carrot. “If you change your mind, we’ll understand.”
A distraction attempt? Now more than one sister appeared to be trying to get rid of him. Eligible women were always trying to get rid of him. Women were strange indeed. “I won’t. I promised Bishop Bontrager that I would work here while your vater is recovering.” If he wasn’t planning to leave altogether, he might be tempted to ask Bartholomew if he wanted to hire him on afterward to help ease his burden.
Neither Hannah nor Miriam seemed pleased with his answer. Didn’t they want their vater to have help?
Typical strange behavior for women.
* * *
The following Monday, Deborah studied Amos as he watched Miriam. Her sister stood at the clothesline hanging the laundry. She didn’t know he was observing her. And he didn’t know that Deborah was studying him.
How fortunate for Miriam to have someone look at her the way Amos did. Maybe someday someone would regard her in such a manner. But probably not. At least not in her Amish community. The only time she’d ever been noticed was in the Englisher world.
Tugging her coat closed, she slipped out past the garden that had been harvested and canned last summer and fall. Spring planting was still a couple of months off.
She hurried out to the cluster of bare sycamore trees near the pond at the edge of their property. After retrieving her backpack from the tangled base of the largest tree, she headed for the meeting spot. No one would miss her. They never did. Vater’s trip to the hospital had been proof of that.
Deborah tramped through the still-fallow field. This year would be the year this field was planted again. She came out the other side and dashed down the road. At the intersection, an idling car waited. She opened the passenger door and climbed in. Then she switched to English. “Sorry for making you wait.”
The older woman pointed toward Deborah’s seat belt. “I don’t go anywhere until your seat belt is on.”
Deborah grabbed the belt, pulled it and snapped it into place. One of the many differences between automobile travel and riding in a buggy.
The woman put her car into gear and pulled out onto the road. “I thought you might not be coming, and I was about to leave.”
Deborah was glad the woman hadn’t. “Thank you for waiting.”
“This is certainly a strange place to be picked up. I’ve driven a lot of you Amish and always go to a house, not the side of the road.”
“I didn’t want to bother anyone.” Deborah hoped the woman didn’t suspect she was sneaking out. Deborah usually had another woman drive her, one who didn’t ask so many questions or insinuate things.
She was relieved when the woman dropped her off at her destination. “Thank you for the ride.” She paid the woman for her gas and time.
“Do you need me to come back and return you to where I picked you up?”
“No, thank you. I have a ride.” Fortunately, her regular person could take her back.
She hustled away from the car before she could be further delayed and nearly ran into an Englisher woman with multicolored hair. “Entschuldigen Sie—I mean, excuse me.”
The young woman stared a moment as though trying to figure out who Deborah was before she scurried away.
Deborah shrugged and ducked into the restroom of the combination gas station/convenience store to change from her plain Amish dress into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and let down her hair. Where it had been twisted into place in the front, it kinked, and where it had been coiled in the back, it waved. When she wore these clothes with her hair freed, she felt like a different person. What would Amos think of her appearance? Disapprove, for sure.
She hurried to the photography studio and entered silently.
Hudson stood behind his camera, giving instructions to the model sitting on a fake rock wall in front of a backdrop featuring an old building. He had dozens of such roll-down backdrops. From urban to countryside, woodlands to deserts to mountains, all four seasons and various weather, and fantasy backdrops with mythical creatures, medieval castles, Gothic arches, waterfalls and stone stairways in the forest.
Hudson, in his late twenties, had ambitions to move to New York City and become a famous photographer. His wavy, shoulder-length blond hair and dashing good looks meant he could likely succeed on the other side of the camera, as well. When she’d first started modeling for him a year ago, she’d developed a crush on him because of all his praise and attention—two things she rarely received at home.
His assistant, Summer, was the first to see her approaching. She leaned in and spoke to Hudson in a hushed voice.
He pulled back from his camera and swung in Deborah’s direction. “Debo! There you are.”
When she hadn’t wanted to use her real name, Hudson had dubbed her Debo. She didn’t much care for it, but it was better than using Deborah and risk being discovered. Because of all the makeup and fussy hair, no Amish would guess that was her even if they ever found out. The likelihood that any of them would see her in one of these Englisher catalogs was slim to none. If they did, they wouldn’t recognize her.
He walked over to her and gripped her shoulders. “You’re my best model. Go see Lindsey and Tina for wardrobe, hair and makeup.” He stared at her a little longer and was probably assessing the condition of her features today.
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“It just amazes me how different you look from when you go into the dressing room and when you come out again. Lindsey and Tina are miracle workers. If I didn’t know both women were you, I would never guess you were the same person.”
Deborah counted on that. If her Amish community knew about this, she would be shunned. If the media found out she was an Amish girl modeling, they would exploit that. But Hudson and his team kept her secret, and as long as they did, she could continue to model. She wasn’t hurting anyone and wasn’t doing anything illegal. The money she earned would help her and her future husband buy a house and farm. She would quit as soon as someone special took interest and asked to court her.
Today’s shoot was for a high-end clothing catalog. She would be transformed with makeup, and her hair would be curled and fluffed. It was fun to be pampered like this. It still gave her a chuckle at the variety of clothes Englishers owned and wore—different clothes for every season, every occasion and various times of day.
For her, spring and summer meant she could put away her sweater and coat and didn’t have to wear shoes or stockings most of the time, going barefoot. Same dress, just fewer layers. Her biggest decision was whether to wear her green, blue or yellow dress. She wore far more outfits on a single photo shoot than she owned. Where did Englishers put them all? She would hate to have to wash the lot.
Once she had been rendered unrecognizable and dressed in a long, flowing summer dress she could never imagine owning, she returned to the main area of the studio.
Hudson smiled at her. “There’s my favorite model.” He positioned her in the shot and took a lot of pictures. Same instructions he usually gave her.
Strange to be wearing a summer dress in the middle of winter. Strange to be wearing an Englisher summer dress, period. She moved automatically and let her mind wander. Back to her family’s farm. Was Amos still gazing at Miriam? Had her sister taken notice of his attention? Part of her hoped not.
Deborah focused on the hand snapping in front of her face.
Hudson stood less than a foot away. “You’re distracted, Debo. I don’t know where you were, but I need you here.”
Was she distracted? Ja. She supposed she was. “I’m sorry.” Her mind kept flittering back to Amos. Why? He wasn’t her beau. Until a little over a week ago, she’d barely known he existed. Now she couldn’t shake him from her thoughts. He was like a mouse in the wall, always scratching. Always capturing her attention. Always crawling into her daydreams.
She tried to push Amos from her thoughts and focused on Hudson’s instructions.
After four hours of changing clothes and hairstyles and having hundreds of photos taken of her, relief washed over Deborah when the shoot was over. After changing into her own Englisher clothes and scrubbing off the makeup, she left the dressing room.
Hudson gathered the five models around him. “A mostly great shoot today.” He gave Deborah a pointed look.
Her performance was in the part not included in the “mostly great.”
“I need all of you back here tomorrow and for the rest of the week. The client wants the photos this weekend to present to his marketing department Monday.”
The other models grabbed their coats and purses and headed out.
Deborah hung back. “I don’t know if I can come every day.”
He gave her a hard look. “Debo, I need you. You have to come.”
“I’ll try.”
* * *
Surprisingly, she did manage to escape the farm each day, although some days were more of a challenge than others.
On Friday, Hudson praised them all for their hard work.
Deborah headed for the exit with aching feet and a tired body. Her body from constantly moving, and her feet from being shoved into impractical shoes. Her brain hurt as well from repeatedly forcing Amos out of her thoughts.
“Debo, hold up.” Hudson trotted over to her. “You want to grab a cup of coffee?”
How many times in the past had she hoped for just such an invitation? She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Hudson. I need to get home.”
“But we ended early. Certainly you don’t have to rush off so soon.”
“I have been gone too much from home this week.” Not that her family noticed her absence. “And you have photos to edit for your client.”
“Next Wednesday, then? I have a shoot. I’ll see you then.”
She shook her head again. “I need to stick around home for a while.”
“If you had a phone, I could call you with opportunities.”
She couldn’t risk him calling their phone. That would be disastrous for her. She finally escaped, all the while her mind wandering back to Amos.
* * *
Amos looked out over the Millers’ fields, which were to be plowed in the spring. He couldn’t help but think of them as partly his. Since he’d already planned out the plowing and planting, they sort of felt a little like his fields. Of course, they weren’t his fields, and he might not even be here to do the work. But if he was, he would take pride in that work.
Bartholomew appreciated everything he did around the farm, so Amos worked harder and enjoyed it so much more here than he ever had at home.
Here, even the little things he did mattered. He mattered. Bartholomew had never had a son to help him with all the work around the farm. How had he run this place without sons?
But on the flip side, Amos’s mutter had been alone doing the house chores, cooking, cleaning and laundry for six men and boys through the years. How did she do it without help?
On the far side of one of the fields, a woman emerged from a bare stand of sycamore trees nestled next to a pond. She walked across the field he would plow in the not-too-distant future. If he was still here. Bartholomew should have his cast off by then, but he wouldn’t likely be up for all the physical work yet. Maybe Amos should stay long enough to help with that.
The woman came closer and closer.
Deborah.
Where did she go all the time? She had disappeared every day this week and would be gone for hours. He was about to find out.
With her head down, she didn’t see him approaching. He stepped directly into her path a few yards in front of her. She seemed to be talking to herself, but he couldn’t make out all the words. Something about nothing wrong and not hurting anyone.
She kept walking with her head down. The words became clearer. “Everything will be fine. No harm done.”
When it looked as though she might literally run into him, he cleared his throat.
She halted a foot away and jerked up her head. She was so startled to see him there, she took a step back and appeared to lose her balance on the uneven ground. Her arms swung out to keep herself upright.
He reached out and took hold of her upper arms to stop her from tumbling to the ground. “Whoa there.”
She gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“Where have you been all day?”
“What? Nowhere.” She tried to pull free of his grip, but he held fast.
He shook his head. “You’ve been somewhere. You’ve left every day this week and been gone for most of the day.”
“I—I went for a walk.”
“Where? Ohio?”
She twisted her face for a moment before his joke made sense. “We have a pond just over there by those trees. I like to sit there and watch the ducks. It’s a nice place to think and be alone. You should go sometime.”
“I did. Today. You weren’t there.”
Her self-satisfied expression fell. “I was for a while, then I walked farther.”
He sensed there was more to her absence than a walk. “Where?”
“Why do you care?”
“With your vater laid up, I’m kind of responsible for everyone on this farm.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”
How could she not understand the role of a man?
“May I go now?”
He realized he still held on to her upper arms. He didn’t want to let her go but did. “I don’t want you to leave the farm without telling me where you’re going.”
“Are you serious?”
He gave her his serious look.
She huffed and strode away.
Would she heed his request?
Where did she go every day? He had wanted to follow her, was tempted to. He almost did once, but he realized it was none of his business and turned around. But curiosity pushed hard on him. He still might follow her if she didn’t obey. Just to see. Just to watch her from a distance. Just to know her secret.
Something inside him feared for her. Feared she would walk out across this field and never return. Feared her secret would consume them both. She was a mystery.
A mystery he was drawn to solve.
* * *
Deborah heaved a sigh of relief. She marched the rest of the way through the field, resisting the urge to run. After two weeks, Amos Burkholder already paid more attention to her comings and goings than her own family had her whole life—they never expected much from her and thought her an airhead. Fanciful. Her head full of dreams and nonsense.
Well, she did have dreams. And to prove to everyone that she was someone to be noticed, not an airhead, she’d become a church member younger than any of her older sisters at age sixteen, the same year as Miriam, who was a year and a half older than her. She’d basically skipped her Rumspringa. But Naomi had run away in a fit of selfishness and sent the family into a tizzy. Miriam hadn’t seemed to mind having her special day of joining church ruined, but Deborah had.
No one had congratulated her or told her how wonderful it was that she’d joined so young, that she must be the most dedicated Amish woman ever. Anything to be noticed, just once.
Instead, the whole community had gone on a search for Naomi and found her, hours later, sulking under their porch. She’d walked home by herself, having somehow slipped out of the service, probably under the guise of needing to use the bathroom. She’d stayed hidden even when she’d known people were searching for her. She’d hated that so much attention was being paid to others.
It had been the last straw for Deborah. She’d tried to get her parents’ attention and had given up several times, but she’d thought joining church so young would get their attention for sure. If only for a moment. She had just about succeeded until Naomi had pulled her disappearing act. Even after their parents had scolded her younger sister, Deborah gave her a round of her own. After that, Naomi made sure to steal any attention that might be portioned out to Deborah.
Deborah decided that with Naomi always wanting the most attention, Deborah would never get her fair share, so she’d decided to take advantage of being the invisible one. She let Naomi suck up all the attention she could get from the family. Sarah, being the baby and having Down syndrome, naturally got a goodly amount of attention, as well. Joanna and Miriam both took everything in stride and seemed to almost be invisible as well, but they seemed to love it, as though it was their crowning glory to be overlooked. Always quietly in the background.
Well, that wasn’t gut enough for Deborah. Wasn’t she as important as any of the others? Wasn’t she just as much in need of being noticed? Wasn’t she as worthy as any of the others?
So, she took advantage of her invisibility and realized that her family never really noticed when she wasn’t there. If it had been her missing that day instead of Naomi, when would her family have noticed? Certainly not as soon as they had for Naomi. It might not have been until the family was ready to leave for home in the late afternoon, instead of before the service even ended. Maybe not even until nightfall when she wasn’t in her bed. Maybe never. But Hudson had noticed her.
She had experimented with being gone from the family for longer and longer periods of time, until she could be gone all day without hardly a notice. She would claim to go for a walk and be gone for hours. When she returned home, she would be told to get her head out of the clouds and keep track of time. Didn’t she know they worried about her?
Worried? But they never came looking for her. When she told them that, they said she’d always been a wanderer and she always came home and she could take care of herself.
She had to admit that she had been self-sufficient from an early age. Everyone attributed it to when her mutter was so sick while carrying Joanna, that even at two, she somehow knew something had been wrong with Mutter, and it was best if she didn’t cause a fuss. She’d learned to be quiet from all the shushing from adults and her three older sisters at ages four and three. They all knew to be quiet and not cause any more trouble for the family.
So, Deborah wandered farther and farther from home. Until she ended up at the edge of a photo shoot over a year ago.
Though she tried to stay hidden, the photographer, Hudson, had seen her and said she’d be perfect for the shot. A contrast between two worlds: the outside—Englisher—one and the Amish one. She hadn’t wanted to do it. She knew she shouldn’t. Hudson told her that there would be no harm in it. That none of her Amish people would ever know.
She’d been thrilled at the idea of being special, being different. At being noticed. At no longer being invisible.
Hudson praised her and told her that she was a natural and followed direction better than most of his models. He’d paid her money for taking the pictures. He’d asked her to come to another shoot the following week. She said she couldn’t, but then she found she couldn’t resist and went. Soon, she participated in weekly shoots with him. After nearly two months, he asked her to change into Englisher clothes. She couldn’t do that, could she? But she did. And she had enjoyed it. Like being a different person with each new outfit. She wasn’t hurting anyone and was earning money for her future.
The clothes were always modest, but sometimes they put makeup on her. At first, she looked strange and felt out of place, but soon got used to her different appearance. None of her Amish community would recognize her when she was dressed and made-up for a shoot. She felt free and no longer invisible. She felt important. She felt like somebody.
But now, her absence had been noticed. Amos paid more attention than the others. Part of her liked that someone in her Amish community finally noticed, but he could become a problem if he truly did keep her from leaving for her job. It was her job. An unusual job for an Amish person, true. For her, it was a dangerous job. How ridiculous. She didn’t hurt anyone. No one would hurt her. But still, it was a secret. She certainly couldn’t tell Amos where she went. But how many times could she claim to go for a walk and have him still believe her? Or worse yet, ask to go with her?
If she had been going for a simple walk, she would welcome his company and attention. She smiled at the thought.
She sighed. That could never happen. She needed to figure something out before her next photo shoot.
Chapter Four (#u1691667a-967e-59d3-9241-3211579cac6c)
When Deborah rolled out of bed Monday morning, she was actually kind of pleased to be able to stay home and not have a photo shoot demanding her attention. Last week had worn her out. Between the sneaking off, traipsing through the lumpy field and posing just so over and over, every muscle in her body had tensed up. Even muscles she hadn’t used for any of those tasks. Just the stress made everything taut.
But there was no stress today. She could help out her sisters and Mutter, or slip away and relax at the pond. Maybe she would do a little of both.
After breakfast, Vater sat in the living room with his leg propped up, and Amos had gone outside to work in the barn. The lumber he’d ordered with Vater’s permission and gratitude had arrived late on Saturday. Today, he would start his repairs on the hayloft.
Mutter scurried into the kitchen with her coat on. She scanned her daughters. “I’m going to Sister Bethany’s Fabric Shoppe. Your vater needs a new shirt, and I want to start a new quilt.” Her gaze settled solidly on Deborah. “Would you like to come with me?”
Deborah couldn’t believe it. As she stood a little taller to speak, she opened her mouth, but before any words could come out, Naomi stepped in front of her.
“I want to go. Can I go with you, Mutter?”
“Of course. You can all go. Get your coats.”
Hannah and Lydia exchanged glances and identical tilts of their heads.
Sarah clapped her hands. “Yeah. I want to go.”
“I’ll stay here and start preparations for lunch,” Joanna said.
“I’ll stay, as well,” Lydia said. “Sarah, do you want to help me make a cake? I’ll let you lick the bowl.”
Sarah clapped her hands again. “Oh, ja. I want to lick the bowl.”
Mutter had invited Deborah, and now half of her sisters were going.
Hannah, Miriam and Naomi quickly bundled into their coats. Hannah would drive and Mutter would sit up front with her. That would leave Deborah to sit in the back with Miriam and Naomi. Miriam was always a pleasure to be with. But Naomi?
Mutter looked directly at Deborah. “You don’t have your coat on. Aren’t you coming?”
Naomi made a face at Deborah from behind Mutter’s shoulder.
Lydia put a hand on Deborah’s shoulder. “I could use your help with the cake.”
Deborah knew her sister didn’t, but said, “Ja, I’ll stay and help.”
Mutter smiled at her middlemost daughter. “You are such a gut girl.”
Deborah smiled back. Her mutter’s brief attention was somehow worth not going.
Naomi’s expression turned smug before she stepped out the kitchen door ahead of everyone. Why her next-to-the-youngest sister insisted on being spiteful didn’t make sense to Deborah.
“Mutter?” Deborah asked. “Could you get me some fabric for a quilt, as well?”
“Of course, dear.” With that, the foursome left.
Lydia didn’t move from Deborah’s side but stared out the window at the top of the door. She looked a little troubled, then spoke softly. “Danki for not making a fuss about staying. I figured Hannah would have her hands full with Naomi along. Why our sister has chosen you to clash with, I don’t know.”
It was nice to know that at least one other person in the family noticed Naomi’s ill temper toward her. “I do my best to stay out of her way.”

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