Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | His New Amish Family

His New Amish Family
Patricia Davids


Her home—and heart—on the line… in the heartwarming conclusion to The Amish Bachelors seriesWidow Clara Fisher’s late uncle promised his farm to her—but she can’t find the documents to prove it! Desperate to stop her Englisch cousin from selling it, she seeks the help of auctioneer Paul Bowman. Paul’s always been a wandering spirit, but will sweet, stubborn Clara and her children suddenly fill his empty life with family and love?







Her home—and heart—on the line...

in the heartwarming conclusion to The Amish Bachelors series

Widow Clara Fisher’s late uncle promised his farm to her—but she can’t find the documents to prove it! Desperate to stop her Englisch cousin from selling it, she seeks the help of auctioneer Paul Bowman. Paul’s always been a wandering spirit, but will sweet, stubborn Clara and her children suddenly fill his empty life with family and love?


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 (http://www.patriciadavids.com).


Also By Patricia Davids (#u194fafc0-a76c-5927-a571-175e7ddcd1a1)

The Amish Bachelors

An Amish Harvest

An Amish Noel

His Amish Teacher

Their Pretend Amish Courtship

Amish Christmas Twins

An Unexpected Amish Romance

His New Amish Family

Lancaster Courtships

The Amish Midwife

Brides of Amish Country

Plain Admirer

Amish Christmas Joy

The Shepherd’s Bride

The Amish Nanny

An Amish Family Christmas: A Plain Holiday

An Amish Christmas Journey

Amish Redemption

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


His New Amish Family

Patricia Davids






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-08433-8

HIS NEW AMISH FAMILY

© 2018 Patricia MacDonald

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.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


“What are you doing here?”

She grinned and tipped her head to the side. “Paul, I live here.”

“I mean, why aren’t you at the hospital?” He tried to ignore the rush of happiness that filled his chest.

“Sophie is doing better, and I needed to come home and get some things done. I’ve been wearing the same dress since we took Sophie to the hospital. It was time for a change.”

“That’s great. How are you?” She looked fine to him. Better than fine. She looked wonderful.

He studied her lovely face. A light blush colored her cheeks, and her eyes had dark circles under them but they sparkled now as she gazed at him. A soft smile curved her lips. She was happy to see him.

Clara wasn’t his type, so why was he so delighted to see her?


Dear Reader (#u194fafc0-a76c-5927-a571-175e7ddcd1a1),

I was sorry to say goodbye to the folks of Bowmans Crossing. Each time I create a new community, it comes alive for me with houses and stores, people and pets, bridges and rivers. It’s a joy to recreate in some simple way the glory that God has placed in front of our eyes every day.

I fell in love with Clyde. I must admit I’m a dog person. In a few years, I may be as devious and ditzy as Charlotte. She was way too much fun to write. She will remain one of my most endearing characters. I wish I had thought of her sooner. I could have used her in all six of the Bachelor books. Oh well.

Everyone who has been in love knows the path it leads us down isn’t smooth. It can be a great trip or it can be a trial, but I am a firm believer that love prevails. I guess that’s why I write romance books.

So what’s next for me? I’m happy to say I’m off to create a new Amish community, where love always wins and kindness is the order of the day.

Blessings to all,

Patricia Davids


If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man’s religion is vain. Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.

—James 1:26–27


This book is dedicated with love and respect to my daughter Kathy. Thanks for all your help and the two wonderful grandkids. Mama Loves You.


Contents

Cover (#u7e623507-eabf-5969-b886-0b15f96ec315)

Back Cover Text (#u9aa39c33-62b9-53c1-89da-2f499b19b771)

About the Author (#ufd023260-0b1d-5b63-b6d9-33c3954454dd)

Booklist (#ufd023260-0b1d-5b63-b6d9-33c3954454dd)

Title Page (#ua4f43f7b-6a70-5988-b0ec-719d80b782e2)

Copyright (#u485b56cc-3c0e-5912-9989-ed5ae740cc79)

Introduction (#u35fed53e-40b6-589c-9eef-37d926f2a27f)

Dear Reader (#u10d03580-982b-5262-b974-61c343f37435)

Bible Verse (#u34093653-4165-500c-aaaf-e1c03e60e497)

Dedication (#u42043026-edaa-5119-979f-5b8538df7cb2)

Chapter One (#u4bf149bc-8189-54c9-a52a-9775a52bfe23)

Chapter Two (#uae599ab4-81c4-5702-bdfd-5e70f323181e)

Chapter Three (#u40e7bffe-8d5d-50f6-a7b9-5b746ce3f8f8)

Chapter Four (#uab3661bc-5af0-50ac-81af-b11202ee1965)

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)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u194fafc0-a76c-5927-a571-175e7ddcd1a1)

“This is what you spent our money on?”

“It’s wunderbar, ja? What a beauty.” Paul Bowman grinned as he wiped a spot of dirt off the white trailer bearing his name in large black letters on the side. It might look like a big white box with windows but it was his future. It sat parked inside their uncle’s barn out of the weather.

His brother, Mark, shook his head. “Beauty was not my first thought.”

Paul stepped back to take in the full effect. “Paul Bowman Auction Services. Has a nice sound, don’t you think? A friend did all the custom work. He found this used concession stand trailer, stripped it to a shell, then installed the sliding glass windows on each side, rewired it for battery power as well as electricity, installed the speakers on the roof and customized the inside to fit my needs. It did smell like fried funnel cakes for a while but the new paint job took care of that.”

Mark sighed heavily. “This is not what I was expecting.”

Paul walked around pointing to the features he had insisted on having. “It is mounted on a flatbed trailer with two axles and radial tires for highway travel. The front hitch is convertible. It can be pulled by horses or by a truck if the auction is more than twenty miles away.”

“What were you thinking?”

Paul didn’t understand the disapproval in his older brother’s voice. “I told you I needed a better sound system. People have to be able to hear the auctioneer.”

Mark gestured toward the trailer. “I thought you wanted a new speaker. This thing looks like a cross between a moving van and the drive-up window at the Farley State Bank. It’s huge. And white. Our buggies must be black.”

“The bishop won’t object to the color. It’s not like it’s sunflower yellow and it isn’t truly a buggy. It’s my place of business. It has everything I need.”

“Everything except an auction to take it to.”

“The work will start rolling in. You’ll see.” He pulled open the back door. “You have got to hear this sound system. These speakers are awesome. It all runs on battery power, or I can plug it in if there is electricity at the place where the auction is being held. The bishop allows the use of electricity in some businesses so he shouldn’t object to this.”

“You will have to okay it with him. It isn’t plain.”

“I’ll see him soon. I’m not worried.”

“And if he says nee, can you get your money back?”

“He won’t.” Paul stepped up into what was essentially an office on wheels.

The trailer was outfitted with two desk spaces, two chairs and a dozen storage bins of assorted sizes secured to the walls. Sliding windows on both sides opened to let him deal directly with customers and call the auction without leaving the comfort of his chair. A third window at the front with an open slot beneath it served as a windshield so he could drive a team of horses from inside.

The feeling of elation that it all belonged to him widened Paul’s smile. Mark didn’t understand how much this meant. No one in the family did. They thought being an auctioneer was his hobby and nothing more. Maybe that was his fault.

He was the joker in the family. He was good at pretending he didn’t take anything too seriously. He was a fellow who liked a good joke even if the joke was on him. He enjoyed light flirtations but avoided serious relationships at all costs. Auctioneering was his one true love.

This trailer was the culmination of three years’ work to fulfill his dream of becoming a full-time auctioneer.

Detaching the microphone from the clips that held it in place while the vehicle was in motion, he flipped a switch and began his auctioneer’s chant. “I have two hundred, um two, two, who’ll give me three hundred, um three, three, I see three. Now who’ll give me a little more, four, four, do I hear four?”

He slid open the window and propped his elbows on the desktop as he looked down at Mark. “What do you think?”

“It’s mighty fancy for a fellow who has only been a licensed auctioneer for a couple of months.”

Paul wanted his brother to share his enthusiasm, not dampen it. “I completed the auctioneer’s course and served my year of apprenticeship with Harold Yoder. He’s one of the best in these parts. I have called twenty auctions under his supervision. I have earned my license, and I’m ready to be out on my own.”

“There’s a difference between going out on your own and going out on a limb. How much did you spend on this?”

“Enough.” All he had saved plus the money he had borrowed from Mark and a four-thousand-dollar loan from the bank on a short-term note. Paul kept that fact to himself. He didn’t need a lecture from his always practical older brother. Sometimes life required a leap of faith.

It was true he had expected to be hired for several major auctions by the time his custom trailer was finished but he’d had only one small job so far. His commission had barely covered his expenses for that one. He’d been forced to borrow the money to pay the builder when his trailer was ready. No Amish fellow liked being in debt but sometimes a man’s business required it. Paul closed the window, switched off the microphone and stepped out.

Mark shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Paul grinned. “I talk fast. That’s the secret. You’ll see. This is a goot investment. You’ll get your money back soon.”

“I hope so. I’ll need it to pay for the new ovens we’re putting in at the bakery. Have you told Onkel Isaac about this purchase?”

“Not yet. I hope he approves but I know this was the right decision for me even if he doesn’t.” They both walked out into the early morning sunshine.

“He will support your decision but if you fail at this business venture, don’t look to him to bail you out. Or me. Lessons learned by failure are as valuable as lessons learned by success.”

“I know. It’s the Amish way.” Paul had heard that many times in his life but it never meant as much as it meant now. When his loan came due in two months, the bank could repossess his van if he didn’t have the money. He was starting to worry.

Maybe he could get an extension on his loan. His uncle did a lot of business at the bank but Paul’s finances were what they would look at.

He crossed the farmyard with Mark and headed toward their uncle’s furniture-making business, where they both worked. As they entered the quiet shop, they went their separate ways. Mark went out back to start the diesel generator that produced the electric power for the numerous woodworking machines, lights and office equipment. When Paul heard the hum of the generator start up and the lights came on, he raised the large door at the rear of the building so the forklift operator could bring in pallets of raw wood and move finished products to the trucks that would soon arrive for the day’s deliveries.

He saw a car turn into the parking lot and stop but he knew Mark would be up front soon to deal with any customers. A man got out of the car and walked toward Paul instead of going to the entrance to the business. He was dressed in khaki pants and a blue polo shirt. Definitely not an Amish fellow.

“I’m looking for the Amish auctioneer?”

Paul grinned and clapped a hand to his chest. “You found him. I’m Paul Bowman.”

“I’m Ralph Hobson. I recently inherited a farm and I am no farmer. The place is a pile of rocks and weedy fields fit for goats and not much else. I’ve been told that an auction is the easiest and fastest way to get rid of the property.”

“Auctions are very popular in this part of the country. The buyer can see he’s getting a fair deal because he knows what everyone else is offering. The seller gets his money right away, and my auction service takes care of the details in between for a ten percent commission. Does that sound like something you’re interested in?”

“It does. How soon can you hold an auction?”

“That depends on the size and condition of the property and the contents of the home if you are selling that.”

“I am. The farm is a hundred and fifty-five acres. How much can I expect to get for it?”

“Farmland in this part of Ohio sells for between five and six thousand dollars an acre depending on the quality of the land.”

Ralph’s eyes lit up. “It’s a good thing I didn’t take the first offer I had. That weasel was trying to cheat me. So roughly seven hundred and seventy thousand, give or take a few thousand?”

Paul wondered who the weasel was and how much he had offered. It wasn’t any of his business so he didn’t ask. “Minus my commission. It could go higher if there is a bidding war.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s when two or more bidders keep upping their bids because they both really want the item.”

“That sounds interesting. What keeps the seller from putting someone in the crowd to drive the price up?” Ralph slipped his hands into the front pockets of his pants. “Hypothetically, of course.”

“I won’t say it never happens but the bidder is taking a chance he could get stuck with a high-priced item he doesn’t want or can’t afford if the other bidder quits first.”

“I see.” Ralph smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I guess we can both hope for a bidding war since you earn more if I make more. Right?”

“Right. Are there outbuildings? Farm equipment? Livestock? I’ll need to make an accurate inventory of everything.”

“A few chickens, three buggy horses and a cow with a calf are the only livestock. A neighbor has them for now. The rest is a lot of junk. My uncle rarely let go of anything.”

Paul tried not to get his hopes up. “One man’s junk is another man’s treasure. I’ll need to look the place over.”

“I can drive you there now.”

This was too good an opportunity to pass up. To handle an entire farm and household sale could bring him a hefty commission. Enough to pay back Mark and the bank loan plus get his business off to a good start. “Who owned the farm before you?”

“My uncle, Eli King.”

“I think I know the place. Out on Cedar Road just after the turn off to Middleton?”

“That’s right.”

Paul had gone there last year with his cousin Luke looking for parts to fix an ancient washing machine. Ralph was right about his uncle collecting things but not all of it was junk. There were some valuable items stashed away. “Let me tell my uncle where I’m going and I’ll be right with you.”

“Great.” The man looked relieved and walked back to his car.

Paul found his uncle, his cousin Samuel and Mark all conferring in the front office. Paul tipped his head toward the parking lot. “That Englisch fellow wants to show me a farm he plans to put up for auction. Can you spare me for a few hours?”

The men looked up from reviewing the day’s work schedule. “Can we?” Isaac asked.

Samuel flipped to the last page on the clipboard he held. “It’s not like he does much work when he is here.”

Mark and Isaac chuckled. Paul smiled, too, not offended in the least. “Very funny, cousin. I do twice the amount of work my brother does these days. Mark spends more time at the bakery than he does here.”

Mark’s grin turned to a frown. Isaac patted his shoulder. “That is to be expected when he and his new wife are getting their own business up and running.”

“That’s right,” Mark said, looking mollified. “It takes a lot of thought to decide which type of ovens we need and where they should be placed, what kind of storage we need—a hundred decisions have to be made.”

Isaac’s wife, Anna, ran a small gift shop across the parking lot from the woodworking building. Mark’s wife, Helen, had been selling her baked goods in the shop and at local farmers markets but the increasing demand for her tasty treats and breads made opening a bakery the next logical step for them.

A month ago, the church community held a frolic to help Mark and Helen finish building their bakery next to the gift shop. The couple would live above the bakery until they could afford to build a new home. They were currently living with Helen’s aunt, Charlotte Zook, but her home was several miles away, making it impractical to stay there once their business was up and running.

“When is the grand opening?” Isaac asked.

“The dual ovens we want are back-ordered. We can’t set a date until they are paid for and installed.” Mark gave Paul a pointed look. It was a reminder that he needed his money back soon.

Paul winked at his brother. “Mark’s interest isn’t in the new ovens. Sneaking a kiss from his new bride is what keeps him running over there.”

Mark blushed bright red and everyone laughed.

Paul turned to Isaac for an answer. “Can you spare me today? I’m trying to get my own business up and running, too.”

Isaac nodded. “We will do without you. Any idea when you’ll be back?”

“I can’t say for sure.” He opened the door and saw his cousin Joshua and Joshua’s wife, Mary, coming across from the gift shop. Mary carried her infant son balanced on her hip. The happy, chubby boy was trying to catch the ribbon of her kapp with one hand and stuff it in his mouth with little success.

Mary called out, “Guder mariye, Paul. Is Samuel around?”

“Good morning, Mary. He’s inside.”

“Goot, I need to speak to him. Don’t forget about Nicky’s birthday party two weeks from Saturday. You can bring a date if you like.”

“I won’t forget and I won’t bring a date. Meet the family. Bounce the cute baby. That would be a sure way to give a woman the wrong impression,” he called over his shoulder.

“You can’t stay single forever,” Mary shouted after him.

“I can try.” He hurried toward Ralph Hobson’s car. He didn’t want to keep a potentially profitable client waiting.

On the twenty-minute ride, Paul did all the talking as he outlined the details of the auction contract and his responsibilities, including advertising and inventory, sorting the goods and cleaning up after the sale. Hobson listened and didn’t say much.

Paul hoped the man understood what he was agreeing to. “I’ll send you a printed copy of all I’ve told you if you agree to hire me. A handshake will be enough to seal the deal.”

“Fine, fine. Whatever.” The man took one hand off the wheel and held it out.

Paul shook it. He was hired. It was hard to contain his joy and keep the smile off his face.

When Ralph turned into the lane of a neat Amish farmyard, Paul noticed a white car parked off to the side of the drive. Ralph stopped beside it. A middle-aged man in a white cowboy hat got out. He tossed a cigarette butt to the ground and came around to the driver’s side. Ralph rolled down his window.

“Good morning, sir. My name is Jeffrey Jones. Are you the owner of this property?”

“I am,” Ralph said.

“I understand this farm is for sale. I’d like to take a look at the property and maybe make an offer on it.”

Ralph frowned. “Where did you hear it was for sale?”

The man shrugged and smiled. “Word gets around in a small community like this.”

Ralph shook his head. “Your information isn’t quite accurate. There will be a farm auction in the near future.”

“Ah, that’s a risky way to get rid of the place. You should at least hear my offer. You’ve got no guarantee that an auction will top it.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Ralph said. “Keep an eye out for the date of the sale. You might get it for less.”

Mr. Jones stepped back from the vehicle. “Do the mineral rights go with the farmland or are they separate?”

“I’m not selling the mineral rights.”

“Smart man. I imagine leasing those rights to the local coal mine will bring you a tidy sum for many years. My offer for the farm expires when I get in my car. No one is going to want this place except maybe a poor Amish farmer. You’ll have trouble getting a decent price.”

If Ralph sold the land now, Paul wouldn’t get a dime but he had to put his client’s interest before his own. “You should at least hear what the man had to offer.”

“I have my heart set on an auction. Besides, I thought we had a deal. We shook on it.”

Paul grinned. It seemed his new client was an honorable man. “It’s up to you but he is mistaken if he thinks all Amish farmers are poor. You’ll get a fair price at auction. You can put a reserve on it if you want. If the bidding doesn’t reach your set price, it’s a ‘no sale’ and you are free to sell it another way.”

Ralph smiled. “I’m going to hope for a bidding war.”

Mr. Jones appeared more puzzled than disappointed but he got back in his car and drove away.

Paul leaned forward in his seat to get a good look at the farm as they drove up. Both the barn and the house were painted white and appeared in good condition. He made a quick mental appraisal of the equipment he saw, then jotted down numbers in a small notebook he kept in his pocket.

“What is she doing here?” The anger in Ralph’s voice shocked Paul.

He followed Ralph’s line of sight and spied an Amish woman sitting on a suitcase on the front porch of the house. She wore a simple pale blue dress with an apron of matching material and a black cape thrown back over her shoulders. Her wide-brimmed black traveling bonnet hid her hair. She looked hot, dusty and tired. She held a girl of about three or four on her lap. The child clung tightly to her mother. A boy a few years older leaned against the door behind her holding a large calico cat.

“Who is she?” Paul asked.

“That is my annoying cousin Clara Fisher.” Ralph opened his car door and got out. Paul did the same.

The woman glared at both men. “Why are there padlocks on the doors, Ralph? Eli never locked his home.”

“They are there to keep unwanted visitors out. What are you doing here?” Ralph demanded.

“I live here. May I have the keys, please? My children and I are weary.”

Ralph’s eyebrows snapped together in a fierce frown. “What do you mean you live here?”

“What part did you fail to understand, Ralph? I...live...here,” she said slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

Ralph’s face darkened with anger. Paul had to turn away to keep from laughing.

“You can poke fun at me if you want but that is not an explanation.” The man was livid.

Clara sat where she was, seemingly unruffled by his ire. “Eli invited us to live with him last Christmas. We moved in six months ago.”

“No one told me that. I didn’t see you at the funeral.”

“We have been in Maryland visiting my mother for the past month.” She stroked her little girl’s hair. “Sophie became ill and was in the hospital briefly. Eli’s friend Dan Kauffman called me to tell me about Eli’s passing. He knew Mother and I couldn’t return for the funeral. Surely he told you that, for I know he attended.”

“I don’t speak to the Amish and they don’t speak to me. You’ll have to find somewhere else to live. Uncle Eli left the farm to me.”

Her eyes widened with astonishment. “I don’t believe it. He told me he had amended the farm trust and made me the beneficiary months ago.”

Ralph looked stunned but he quickly recovered and glared at her. “Even if he did, he revoked that amendment three weeks ago when he made me the new trustee. He said nothing about you or your children. That’s why they call it a revocable trust, Clara, because a man can change his mind anytime. It’s irrevocable now that Eli is gone and this farm belongs to me.”

Paul wished he knew more about how such things worked.

“You’re lying, Ralph. Eli wouldn’t turn over his farm to you.”

“You make it sound like we weren’t on speaking terms. I came to visit the old fellow at least once a year.”

“Only to see if you could beg money off him.”

“I admit my motives weren’t always the best but things have been different lately. I cared about the old guy.”

“Cared about what you could get from him. Open the door at once.”

Ralph crossed his arms and leaned back. “You haven’t changed, cousin. You’re still trying to boss me around. I’m not going to let you in my house.”

“You have changed. You’ve gone from scamming Amish folks out of a few hundred dollars to stealing costlier things, like this farm.”

“If you feel that’s the case, cousin, call the cops. You can use my phone.”

Her lips narrowed into a thin line. “You know it is not our way to involve the Englisch law.”

“Yeah, I do know that. The Amish don’t like outsiders. Suits me.”

“Is that what you were counting on? You’re a man without scruples. You are a blemish on our family’s good name.”

Her biting comment surprised Paul. She might look small but she was clearly a woman to be reckoned with. She reminded him of an angry mama cat all fluffed up and spitting mad. He rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide a grin. His movement caught her attention, and she pinned her deep blue gaze on him. “Who are you?”

He stopped smiling. “My name is Paul Bowman. I’m an auctioneer. Mr. Hobson has hired me to get this property ready for sale.”

Her angry gaze snapped back to Ralph. “I would like to see the document Eli signed giving you the farm that he had promised to me and my children.”

“That document is none of your business. My attorney has it.” He turned and walked toward the car.

She stifled her anger. Paul saw the effort it took and felt sorry for her. She drew a deep breath. “Ralph, please, search your heart and find compassion for us. You know Sophie will need medical care her entire life. I will be hard-pressed to pay for that care without the income this farm will provide.”

Ralph stopped but didn’t look at her. “The church will take care of you. Isn’t that what they promise? Eli and I mended our difference. You should be happy about that. The Amish are all about forgiveness.”

“I wish I believed you.” Clara turned to Paul. “You can’t auction off this farm. It doesn’t belong to him.”

Paul held up both hands and took a step back. “This is clearly a family matter, and I don’t think I should get involved. Do you have a place to stay? My aunt and uncle will be happy to welcome you to their home.”

Her tense posture relaxed a little. “I’m grateful for the offer but we have to stay here. My daughter has Crigler-Najjar syndrome. It’s a rare liver disease. She has a special blue-light bed she must sleep in at night. It is upstairs in the front bedroom.”

Paul had heard of the blue-light children but he’d never seen one. Clara’s daughter was a pretty child with white-blond curly hair and a golden hue to her skin. Her bright blue eyes regarded him solemnly. The boy shared the same blond hair and blue eyes. He glared at Ralph but didn’t speak.

Ralph gave his cousin a falsely sweet smile. “I don’t have the keys to the house with me but you’re welcome to sleep on the porch.”

Clara’s scowl deepened. “My child can’t be without the lights. She needs to be under them for ten hours a day or risk brain damage. I have a set we travel with but I left them with my mother to be shipped here later. You must let us stay.”

Paul heard the desperation in her voice. He caught Ralph by the arm. “This isn’t right. Let her in.”

Ralph jerked away. “You heard her say I’m a liar and a thief and you think I should help her? I’m going to call the sheriff and report her for trespassing. A night in jail might change her tune. Get in the car. I’m leaving.”

Paul cringed. He was about to lose a sale that would have paved the way for his future business. He glanced around and picked up a rock twice the size of his fist. “Do you have the key, Mr. Hobson? If not, I’m going to owe you for a new padlock and a smashed door. I’m not leaving here until she and her kinder are safe inside.”

Ralph pulled out his cell phone. “Go ahead. The sheriff can arrest both of you.”


Chapter Two (#u194fafc0-a76c-5927-a571-175e7ddcd1a1)

Clara’s jaw dropped in shock. Ralph was just the kind of man to make good on his threat. Would the Englisch law put her in jail? What would become of her children? Sophie had to have her light bed. Would the sheriff allow her to use it?

She had no wish for the young auctioneer to suffer because he was standing up for her and her children. She met the young man’s gaze, ready to give in and leave if she could take Sophie’s bed but Paul didn’t look the least bit concerned. He winked at her, a sly smile lifting the corner of his mouth. What should she make of that?

He leaned toward Ralph and pointed to the phone. “The sheriff’s name is Nick Bradley. Be sure to tell Nick it’s Paul Bowman you want arrested. Nick’s daughter, Mary, is married to my cousin Joshua. Oh, and tell him Mary is planning a birthday party for Nicky two weeks from Saturday. The picnic will be at Bowmans Crossing at six o’clock. You know what? Never mind. I’ll just wait here with Clara and tell Nick myself.”

With an angry growl, Ralph put away his phone, pulled a set of keys from his pocket and threw them at Paul. He caught them easily. “You’d do well to remember you work for me now. Get her out of here as soon as you can.”

“Danki. I’ll finish looking the place over and let you know in a couple of days when I think I can schedule your auction. Off the top of my head, I estimate six weeks. Maybe less.”

Ralph nodded once. “Make it less. I need to get rid of this place as soon as possible. Inventory it from top to bottom and get me a copy of the list. Don’t make me regret this. I can easily find another auctioneer.”

“I’ll do my best for you but if you’re in a rush to get rid of the place, why did you turn down Mr. Jones without even hearing his offer?”

“I didn’t like the look of the fellow.” Ralph pointed at Clara. “I don’t want her removing things she claims are hers without checking with me first but I want her gone as soon as possible. If she’s not out of here in a few days, I will call the sheriff.”

Paul glanced at her and then nodded. “I understand.”

Ralph opened the car door. “Are you coming?”

“I can find my own way home.”

“I’m staying at the Swan’s Head Motel in Berlin until the sale is over.” Ralph pulled out a business card. “This is my number. Don’t believe a word that woman says. She’s crazy. She imagines all kinds of things.” Ralph got in, slammed the car door and sped away.

“I guess I won’t need this after all.” Paul tossed aside the rock and walked up the porch steps.

Clara stood and pulled a crowbar from behind her. “I reckon I won’t need this, either.”

He threw back his head and laughed. Clara settled Sophie on her hip as a smile twitched at the corner of her lips. Her son, Toby, was chuckling. It was a wonderful sound. It had been a long time since they had anything to laugh about.

“I reckon your cousin Ralph didn’t think to padlock the toolshed.” Paul grinned at her as she handed him the crowbar.

“He did,” Toby said, putting the cat down. “Mamm boosted me up to the window and I climbed in to get it.”

Toby was so pleased that he had been able to help her. Ever since her husband’s death two years ago, Toby had been trying to be the man of the family. A big undertaking for a boy of only eight.

Paul’s face grew serious as he gazed at Toby. “Your mamm is blessed to have a son who is both agile and brave.”

This stranger’s words of praise to her son raised him another notch in her estimation. Toby stood a little straighter. “It didn’t take much bravery. The spiderwebs were pretty small.”

Paul smiled. “Agile, brave and modest, too. Just as a goot Amish boy should be. Your daed will be pleased when he learns of this.”

Toby’s shoulders slumped. He looked down. “Daed is in heaven.”

Paul laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “My daed is in heaven, too. God must have needed two strong Amish fellows to help him up there. I’m happy Daed is serving our Lord even though I miss him. I never forget that he is watching over me just as your father is watching over you. We must always behave in a way that pleases them, and I’m mighty sure that you pleased your daed by helping your mother today.”

“You helped Mamm, too. Cousin Ralph would have made us leave if you hadn’t been here.”

Paul looked at Clara over Toby’s head. “I think it would take a tougher man than your cousin Ralph to move your mother if she didn’t wish to go.”

Clara felt a blush heat her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had complimented her.

“Do you suppose your daed and mine are friends in heaven?” Toby asked. “I think he might be lonely without us and without his friends to talk to.”

Clara bit her lip as she struggled to hold back the tears. Toby had a tender heart. He worried about far too many things. Adam had been a good husband but an indifferent father, preferring to spend his free time with his unmarried friends rather than the children.

Paul crossed his arms over his chest and then cupped his chin as he considered Toby’s question. “Did your daed enjoy a good game of horseshoes and did he like baseball?”

Toby’s eyes widened in surprise. “He liked both those things.”

Paul turned his hands palms-up. “Then I reckon they must be friends ’cause my daed liked horseshoes and he loved baseball, too. Would you do me a favor and take a quick look at the barn. I need to know if Ralph put padlocks on it.”

“Sure.” Toby took off at a run.

“You were very kind to my son,” Clara said softly.

“Losing his father is hard for a boy that age to comprehend.” Paul watched Toby for a moment and then turned to Clara. “And for his mother, too.”

“How old were you?”

“Six. I’ll get the door open. I almost wish you had produced the crowbar in front of Ralph. I would have given a lot to see his face.”

It seemed he didn’t want to talk about a painful time from his childhood and she respected that.

After unlocking and removing the padlock, Paul pushed the door open and stood back as she carried Sophie inside. The cat darted in and bolted into the living room. Clara set her daughter on a chair by the kitchen table, then turned to get her suitcases but Paul was already inside with them in his hands. “Where would you like these?”

“The black one can go on the bed in the room at the top of the stairs. The gray one goes in the room at the end of the hall. That door leads upstairs.” She nodded toward it as she untied her black traveling bonnet and took it off. He opened the door and she heard him going quickly up the steps.

A quick glance in the mirror by the front door showed her kapp was on straight but her hair had frizzed at her temples. She smoothed them as best she could.

Paul Bowman was a nice-looking young man. He smiled easily, defended her right to enter the house and spoke kindly to Toby. She appreciated all that but even after hearing her say Ralph’s trust had to be a fake, Paul was still going to work for her cousin. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Would he ignore her claim and auction this farm in six weeks? She couldn’t let that happen. A handsome face and a few kind words weren’t enough to blind her to the fact that he was helping Ralph cheat her children out of their inheritance.

She settled Sophie in the living room with one of her favorite books. The cat curled up at her side. Sophie had missed her pet while visiting her grandmother but happily, the bishop’s wife liked cats and had taken care of Patches while they were away. Sophie was pretending to read the story to the cat but she looked ready to nod off. A nap would be just the thing for her. None of them had managed to get any rest on the long bus ride here. Toby came in to report everything was locked up tight. She told him to stay with Sophie when she heard Paul coming downstairs.

She joined him in the kitchen. “I appreciate your help, Mr. Bowman but I need to know your intentions.”

He grinned. “My intentions are to stay single for as long as possible. Sorry.”

She wasn’t amused. “I’m talking about your intentions with regards to this farm.”

“I’m an auctioneer. My intention is to inventory the property and ready the place to be sold.” He quickly covered his head with his arms as if expecting to be hit.

She clasped her fingers tightly together. “Even after hearing that Ralph’s claim to this farm is false?”

He opened one eye to peek at her. “That did give me pause but Ralph seems certain that he owns this place.” He put his arms down and leaned one hip against the kitchen counter. “Is it possible your uncle changed his mind?”

“I don’t believe Eli would do that to me. I will not let you and Ralph sell this place. I don’t know how I can stop you but I will.”

“Don’t get riled at me. As an auctioneer, I have a responsibility to preform my due diligence by making sure that everything I sell is legal and as represented.”

She crossed her arms. “What does that mean?”

“It means I won’t sell a horse as a five-year-old if he has ten-year-old teeth in his mouth. I’ll thoroughly check Ralph’s claim of ownership. It may take a few days. In the meantime...”

“In the meantime, what?”

“I need to begin an inventory of the property.”

“Why?”

“Because I have given my word to Ralph Hobson that I will handle the details of the sale for him. It’s part of my job, and I have a reputation to consider. I can’t say I hold much respect for the man after his actions today. No one should treat a woman and her children with such callousness. Unfortunately, he is my client.”

“I’m sorry you have been placed in an awkward situation.”

“Danki. Have you thought about where you will go?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here. This farm belongs to me.”

“If you prove to be the rightful trustee, what are your plans for this place? Will you farm it? Rent it? Sell all or part of it?”

“I will sell most of the land but I plan to keep a few acres and the house to live in.” Her uncle’s death wasn’t unexpected—he had been in poor health—but it still came as a shock. Maybe if she could make Paul understand how much was at stake, he would stop Ralph from selling the farm. It was worth a try.

“Crigler-Najjar syndrome is a fatal disease. I won’t bore you with the medical details but a liver transplant is my daughter’s only hope of living beyond her teens. A few months ago, I learned that I am an excellent match to donate part of my liver to Sophie. It’s called a living donor transplant but it is a very expensive surgery. With all the testing and follow-up care, it will easily reach five hundred thousand dollars.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Half a million?”

“Ja. Staggering, isn’t it?”

“Won’t the Amish Hospital Aid pay for most of that?”

Amish Hospital Aid was a form of insurance that depended on contributions from a pool of members each month. She was a long-time member and paid a modest monthly amount since before Toby had been born. Not all Amish approved of the method, preferring to rely on the alms contributed by their church members in times of need.

“Amish Hospital Aid has helped pay for Sophie’s hospitalizations in the past. I paid the first twenty percent of each bill and they paid the rest. However, a liver transplant is not an emergency hospitalization. They won’t pay for disability-related costs like her doctor’s visits or her special lights. I have already sold my house and my mother sold her home to help pay for Sophie’s future medical care. All I have to live on is the rent from my husband’s harness-making business back in Strasburg, Pennsylvania, and the charity of church members. Eli’s offer to come and live with him was a Godsend.”

She blinked back unshed tears. “When we learned I could be a donor for my daughter, Eli altered the trust to leave the farm to me. He knew he didn’t have long to live. He had cancer of the blood. The doctors told him a year or less.”

“Why didn’t he sell the farm outright and give you the money?”

“He was planning to do that once his crops were harvested this fall. Making me the beneficiary of the trust was a safeguard in case he died before that happened. Sophie needs a transplant before she gets much older. Every year, her skin gets thicker and that makes the blue lights less effective at breaking down the toxic chemical in her blood. Even a simple cold can put her life in jeopardy or cause serious brain damage because the toxin builds up faster when she’s ill.”

Would he help her or was she wasting her breath? She couldn’t tell. She was exhausted and couldn’t think straight anymore.

Paul rubbed a hand over his chin. “Unless you want Ralph to come back here with the sheriff in a day or two, you’ll need to give me some idea of how long it will take you to move out.”

Her hopes sank. He didn’t care. “I told you I’m not moving.”

“I heard you but we need a way to stall Ralph. He sounded adamant about calling the sheriff on you. We don’t want that to happen and certainly not before I have his story checked out. I will insist on seeing a copy of the trust he claims to have and make sure it’s real. I have no idea how long that will take.”

Relief made her smile as she reached out and grasped his arm. “Then you believe me.”

* * *

Paul didn’t reply. His gaze remained fixed on her face. When she smiled, it changed her appearance drastically. The lines of fatigue and worry around her eyes eased, and she looked years younger. She was a pretty woman but more than that—she had a presence about her that was arresting and made a man look closer. She probably wasn’t much older than he was.

She let go of his arm and clasped both hands together as a faint blush stained her cheeks. He liked to flirt with women and make them smile but he knew Clara wasn’t in the mood to enjoy a little banter. He looked away and took several steps to put some distance between them.

It was surprising that he found her so attractive. She wasn’t the kind of woman he was normally interested in. He liked to go out with girls who knew how to have fun. A widow with two children didn’t make the list. He cleared his throat. “I believe you feel certain that you own the land. However, feelings aren’t proof.”

Her smile vanished. “At least you are willing to investigate Ralph’s claim. It’s a start. I’m not lying about Eli’s intentions. My uncle kept all his important papers in his desk. I’m sure the trust papers are there.”

Paul turned to face her. “You have them here?”

“I do. This way.”

Paul followed her down the hall to her uncle’s study at the rear of the house. The moment she opened the door, she stopped. “Someone has been in here.”

“Are you sure?”

She looked around. “Every piece of furniture in this room has been thoroughly dusted. Eli didn’t like me to clean in here and he wasn’t this neat.”

“I imagine the women of his church came to clean the house before the funeral.” It was a common custom among the Amish to prepare the home for the service.

Obviously feeling foolish, she avoided meeting his gaze. “Of course. I should have thought of that. You must think I’m crazy to suspect someone has tampered with my uncle’s possessions because the room is clean. The women wouldn’t have disturbed the papers in his desk.”

She opened the drawers one by one and went through them. Not finding what she was looking for, she went through each drawer again more slowly. “The trust document isn’t here.”

The trust wasn’t there because Ralph had it. Paul kept that thought to himself. Ralph had warned him not to believe her. He hated to think Ralph was telling the truth about Clara’s unbalanced state of mind.

She pressed a hand to her forehead. “What do I do now?”

She looked lost and desperate, as if she had reached the end of her strength. Paul fought the desire to put his arms around her and console her. It was highly unlikely that she would welcome such a move but he was compelled to offer a sliver of hope even if it was false hope. “Could your uncle have moved it?”

“I don’t know why he would.”

“If he wasn’t feeling well and you weren’t here, he might have given it to the bishop, his attorney or a friend for safekeeping so that someone would know what his final wishes were.”

“Perhaps.” She didn’t look convinced. “I’ll speak with the bishop and his friend Dan to see if they know anything about it. I don’t know who his attorney was.”

“I hate to suggest this but Ralph may be telling the truth. Your uncle might have changed his mind.”

She shook her head, making the ribbons of her kapp flutter. “I can’t believe that. Eli wouldn’t leave us with nothing. Besides Ralph and my mother, the children and I are Eli’s only family. He loved my children.”

“I’m sure he did.” She was vulnerable and sad. Paul wanted to comfort her but he didn’t know what else to say. He chose to retreat. “I need to look around the property if that’s okay with you.”

“It seems I have no right to stop you.” Her eyes filled with tears and one slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away.

Not tears. He hated to see a woman cry. He wanted her to smile again. He stepped closer. “Don’t give up. Things will work out. You’ll see. Maybe Ralph will have a change of heart and share the proceeds of the farm sale with you.”

Her weary expression changed to a look of fierce determination. She squared her shoulders and rose to her feet. “I’ll be very old and gray before that happens. Go and do my cousin’s evil bidding. Make an inventory. Find out how much this place is worth so I’ll know how much the two of you are stealing from my babies.”

“I’m not stealing anything.” Her sudden change of mood took him by surprise. Angry mama cat was back and spitting mad.

“You are if you help him! Get out!”

He made a hasty retreat to the front door and out onto the porch. He turned back to her, hoping to make her see reason. “I have a job to do.”

“Then do it without my blessing.” She slammed the door shut in his face.

* * *

Clara leaned her back against the closed door and took several deep calming breaths. Her heart hammered in her chest. She could feel the blood pounding in her temples. Allowing herself to become so upset served no purpose.

“What’s wrong, Mamm?” Toby asked from the living-room doorway.

“Nothing.” She moved to peek out the kitchen window. Paul was standing on the porch looking stunned. She wished she knew what he was thinking. One minute, he seemed compassionate and caring, tempting her to trust him. In the next breath, he said he was going to sell the property for Ralph as if that was the way things had to be.

It wasn’t. She would find a way to stop them.

Her actions today ran contrary to her Amish upbringing and she was ashamed of that, ashamed her children had witnessed her behaving like a shrew. She had made a serious accusation against Ralph that she couldn’t substantiate. Not unless she found the papers she knew had to exist.

Ralph possessed few, if any, scruples. This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to trick or cheat an Amish family member out of money. This time it wasn’t just about money; it was about Sophie’s life.

Eli had wanted Clara to sell the farm when he was gone and use the funds to help Sophie. He had been a dear, kind man and she missed him deeply. She folded her hands together and sent up a quick prayer that God would be merciful to her and her children and allow her to grant Eli his final wish.

She went to search her uncle’s bedroom next. She found a suit of clothes and his straw hat hanging on pegs. His work boots were sitting beside the bed on a blue oval rag rug, where he always kept them. It was hard to imagine he would never put them on again and tromp mud across her fresh-scrubbed floors. Brushing away a tear, she searched the single chest of drawers without success.

There was nothing in her bedroom or the children’s rooms. She searched the kitchen and finally the large ornate bible cabinet in the living room. It contained only the family’s oversized three-hundred-year-old German bible and a few keepsakes. There was nowhere else to look unless she got a ladder and went up to the attic. She couldn’t imagine her uncle putting important papers where they would be so hard to access.

“Mamm, I’m hungry. Can I have a cookie?” Sophie asked.

“I don’t have any cookies but I think I can find a Popsicle for you and Toby.” Eli always kept a large box of assorted flavors in the freezer for the children.

The freezer compartment of the kitchen’s propane-powered refrigerator turned out to be completely filled with frozen meals in plastic containers, all neatly labeled. The members of the church had made sure that she and the children would be taken care of when they returned. Clara took a moment to give thanks for the wonderful caring people in her uncle’s congregation.

She found the box of Popsicles and gave each child their favorite flavor, then put out a container of spaghetti and meatballs to thaw for supper.

A knock at the door sent Toby rushing to open it. “Hi, Paul. You don’t have to knock. You can just come in. Want a Popsicle? Grape ones are the best.”

Paul stood on the porch with his straw hat in his hand. “Danki, Toby, but not today. I wanted to let your mother know I was leaving. I checked the generator and it’s got fuel.”

Clara moved to stand behind Toby. “Danki.”

She had forgotten to do that. Because the Amish did not allow electricity in their homes, Eli had gotten permission from his bishop to use a generator to supply the electricity for the blue lights Sophie needed. Eli had taken charge of keeping it running but she would have to do that from now on. She battled with her conscience for a moment but knew she couldn’t lie. “The generator belonged to Eli. You should add it to the farm equipment inventory.”

“I’ll try to remember but I’m a forgetful fellow. It might not make the list. I’ll be back tomorrow. Is there anything you and the children need before I go?”

She hated to ask him but Sophie’s health was more important than her false pride. “Would you start the generator so I can make sure the lights come on?”

“Of course.” He started to turn away.

“May I come with you?” Toby asked.

Paul looked over his shoulder. “Sure thing. I can always use an extra hand. Come on.”

The two of them had the generator started in a few minutes. Upstairs, Clara was relieved to see the lights come on when she flipped the switch. Eight blue fluorescent-light tubes were suspended above Sophie’s bed by a wooden canopy that could be raised and lowered with a chain. Mirrors on the headboard, footboard and one side of the bed reflected the light all around her. Sophie hated sleeping under the lights. Clara let her go to bed with her favorite blanket each night but once she was asleep, Clara had to take it away so the light touched as much of her skin as possible.

After she was sure the lights were all working, Clara went downstairs. Paul was standing outside the kitchen door again. “Does it function as it should?”

“The lights all came on. Thank you for making sure the generator would run.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked down at Toby. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I might need someone to help me list all the machinery on the place. That is, if your mother doesn’t mind.”

Toby turned pleading eyes in her direction. “You don’t mind if I help Paul, do you?”

She didn’t want Paul coming back but he would in spite of her wishes. Telling her son he couldn’t help would only hurt Toby.

“You can as long as you finish your own chores first,” she conceded.

“I will.” The happiness in her son’s eyes relieved some of her reservations. He had taken a liking to the auctioneer.

Paul patted the boy on the head and smiled at her. “See you tomorrow then.”

The man had a smile that could melt a woman’s heart. Unless she kept a close guard on it, and Clara always kept a close guard on hers. Her life was filled with complications she wasn’t sure she could manage. Adding one more was out of the question. She closed the front door as he walked away and then began sorting through the pile of mail waiting for her.

Paul did have a nice smile. She remembered the sound of his laughter when she produced the crowbar and how gentle he had been when he talked to Toby about losing his father.

And this absurd line of thinking only proved how tired she was when a man’s simple act of kindness had her thinking he was someone special. After a good night’s sleep, she was sure she wouldn’t find Paul Bowman half as attractive the next time she saw him.


Chapter Three (#u194fafc0-a76c-5927-a571-175e7ddcd1a1)

Early the following morning while the children were still asleep, Clara walked down the road a quarter of a mile to the community phone shack shared by the Amish families who lived in her uncle’s area.

The small building that housed the phone and message machine was only six feet by six feet. It was painted a soft blue color and had large windows on two sides to let in the light. A solar panel on the roof provided electricity for the message machine. Inside was a narrow counter across one wall, where writing utensils and paper sat along with a copy of the local phone book.

A red light was blinking on the machine. She listened to the three messages. None of them were for her so she didn’t erase them. Sitting on the single chair in the room, she placed a call to her mother’s phone shack. She hoped her mother would be there to answer the phone. They had agreed on this time the last time they talked.

Her mother picked up on the second ring. Clara’s throat tightened. It was wonderful to hear her mother’s voice. “We made it safely back to Eli’s farm. It was a long bus ride.”

“How are the children?”

“They are doing fine. There was a letter from the Clinic for Special Children waiting for me when I got here. They did some lab work at her last visit. Sophie’s bilirubin levels are holding steady with ten hours of light but we might need to increase her to twelve hours soon.”

“Then the surgery can’t be put off much longer, can it? Have you decided what to do with my brother’s farm? It’s hard to believe he is gone but what a blessing he has left for us.”

Clara hated to share this news but saw no way to avoid it. “Ralph is here. He says Eli left the farm to him and he plans to sell it.”

“What? Eli wouldn’t do such a thing. He and I agreed you should have it.”

“We know that but I can’t find the papers Eli signed. Ralph claims to have them.”

“That boy broke his mother’s heart with his sneaking ways. I pray for him all the time. What are you going to do?”

“I thought I would speak to Dan Kauffman and see if he knows anything about this.”

“The Lord has placed a heavy burden on you, dear. I wish I was there to help.”

“I wish you were here, too. I miss you. The children miss you.”

“As I miss them. Give them my love.”

After hanging up the phone, Clara blinked back fresh tears. She had needed to hear her mother’s voice, but it made her miss her even more.

Her mother, a widow, had moved from her home in Pennsylvania to live with a dear friend in Maryland after selling her house to help Clara pay Sophie’s mounting medical bills. The two older women were like peas in a pod and got along famously. They made and sold quilts to a local tourist shop and enjoyed living by the sea.

When Clara had her emotions under control, she phoned Dan Kauffman next but no one picked up and he didn’t have an answering machine. She hung up and decided to visit him as soon as possible. She needed to know where her uncle’s trust papers were. They might not prove that Ralph’s document was a fake but it would prove that she wasn’t lying.

Let down because she hadn’t accomplished anything, Clara started back to the house. She had only gone a short distance when she heard the clop-clop of a horse coming up behind her. A farm wagon drew alongside and stopped. Paul held the reins. He tipped his straw hat. “Good morning, Clara. May I offer you a ride?”

“I enjoy taking my morning strolls alone.” She looked straight ahead and kept walking. She had managed to avoid thinking about him until now. He didn’t pass her. Instead, he held the horse to a pace that matched hers.

“I think we got off to a bad start yesterday,” he said after a long moment.

She chose not to reply, hoping he would get the message that she didn’t wish to converse with him. He didn’t.

Stopping the wagon, he got out and took the horse’s rein to lead it as he fell into step beside her. “I hope you will accept my apology if I offended you yesterday.”

“Are you still planning to auction my uncle’s property for Ralph?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment but finally nodded. “I am until I have proof that he doesn’t own the place.”

She turned to face him and saw he had a horse and buggy tied to the back of the wagon. “Then I have no reason to accept your apology, for clearly you will continue to offend me. It’s a wonder you can sleep at night knowing you’ll be putting two small children out of their home.”

She wasn’t as angry with him as she was with herself. A night’s rest hadn’t lessened his attractiveness. She couldn’t shake the annoying feeling that she liked him.

“Your sharp tongue slings some pointed barbs. Do you practice or is it a skill you were born with?”

She stared at him with her mouth open. No one ever talked to her like that. She snapped her mouth shut. “Perhaps you should move out of range.”

“Can’t.”

She glared at him. “Do you need directions? Let me help. Get in your wagon and tell your horse to trot on. Within a minute or two, you will be beyond the sound of my voice.”

To her amazement, he burst out laughing. “I admire your sharp wit even if I am the target of your jabs.”

“Clearly, I have to be more direct. Mr. Bowman, go away.”

“It’s Paul. You must call me Paul because I’ll be spending a lot of time at your place for the next few weeks. I need to finish my inventory of all the possessions, take measurements of the house, barn and outbuildings, inspect the fencing and determine the condition of all the fields. It could take me as much as three to four weeks to sort through everything. After that, it will take me at least another week or so to organize the items into lots for sale and tag everything.”

She gave him an icy stare. “If my sharp wit offends you...leave. I am a woman with a serious and distasteful mission. The future of my children, Sophie’s very life depends on proving that my cousin Ralph is a liar.”

“Now you are wrong about one thing.”

“You don’t believe he’s a liar?”

“I was raised to believe the best of every man until proven wrong and then such a man needs forgiveness and prayers. You’re wrong if you think your sharp wit offends me. It doesn’t. It’s rather refreshing. You remind me of a mother tabby cat, all claws and hiss with her tail straight up and her back arched ready to defend her kittens at all cost.”

Clara had absolutely no idea how to answer him except to say, “I don’t like being compared to a cat.”

“Sorry. I’ll make a note of that. Is tigress or lioness a better comparison? Maybe not. I can see you’re about ready to claw my eyes out. Should I stop talking?”

“Ja, stop talking,” she said dryly, trying to maintain her anger but it was slipping away. His roguish grin and the twinkle in his eyes made it hard to resist his teasing charm. The most annoying thing was that she suspected he was well practiced at charming women.

He leaned toward her. “I predict we are going to be friends. You know why?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Because everyone likes me. I’m not bragging, just stating the truth. I’m a likable fellow.”

She rolled her eyes. “And one who is in love with the sound of his own voice, I gather.”

“Absolutely. See how well you know me already?”

He launched into the singsong chant of an auctioneer selling an imaginary hand-painted antique china teapot to an eager crowd of imaginary bidders. By the time they reached her uncle’s lane, the price was over two thousand dollars. She had to wonder how he managed to take a breath while he was calling.

“Sold, to the bishop’s grandmother for two thousand two hundred dollars and two cents. Please pay the clerk at the end of the auction.” He grinned at her and Clara found herself smiling back as they stopped beside the hitching rail in front of her uncle’s house.

She quickly regained her common sense. This handsome, smooth-talking man wasn’t going to distract her from what she had to do. “Sadly, I don’t have a valuable antique teapot so I won’t need your services.”

“Are you sure about that? Have you done an inventory?”

* * *

Paul saw the indecision flash across her face before she composed herself. “I have not. After I prove the property is mine, I do plan to sell the farm and equipment along with some of the contents of the house.”

“I’m sure you’ll want an accurate inventory in that case. Why have it done twice? There’s no reason I can’t give you a copy of the lists I’m making now.”

“I will need one, won’t I?”

“Absolutely. If you want to ensure that my assessment is correct and complete, then perhaps you would like to assist me while I go through your uncle’s possessions.”

“While I hate to agree with you, you may have a valid point.”

“And if we work together, you can be sure I won’t hide the documents you need if I should find them.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I haven’t already found them?”

He leaned close. “If you had, you would be shouting for joy from the rooftop.”

A hint of a smile curved her lips. “I guess I would, at that.”

He grinned. “See? I’m getting to know you better all the time. Where do you suggest we start our inventory?”

“You’re going to let me decide? Aren’t you the expert?”

“I will give you my opinion if you want. We should start in the attic and work our way down in the house.”

Paul suspected that Clara was someone used to taking charge in whatever situation arose. He was willing to give her enough leeway to make her feel comfortable. He hated that he would be party to selling her home out from under her if Ralph did own it. He wasn’t quite sure why it was important but he truly wanted her to like him.

There was something about her that touched him in a way no other woman had. He was afraid to examine his feelings too closely.

“I have no idea what is in the attic. I’ve never been up there,” she said.

“I’m going to guess we will find cobwebs, spiders and maybe a mouse or two.”

“If you are trying to frighten me, it won’t work. I’m not afraid of spiders or mice.”

“Wunderbar. Spiders give me the heebie-jeebies. I’ll let you deal with any we find.”

She tipped her head as she regarded him. “I thought all men were tough and brave when it came to squishing insects.”

“Nope. I never said I was a tough guy. I’ll let you go first.”

She stared at him for a long minute. She had something other than cobwebs on her mind. He said, “You might as well ask me whatever it is.”

“Before we tackle this project, may I borrow your buggy for a short trip today?”

“I see you noticed that I brought one along. I did plan to leave it for you to use. I noticed Eli had one in the barn but the front wheel has a broken spoke and I don’t know if Ralph will okay the repair. Do you want to borrow my horse, too?”

Her smile was brief but genuine. “Ja, I would like to borrow the horse, too. I looked but I couldn’t find a harness to fit Patches.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Patches?”

“Sophie’s cat.”

He laughed. “That’s a goot one. My horse’s name is Frankly.”

“Frankly, not Frank?”

“Nee, it’s Frankly and he’s a bit high-strung. I’m sure you can manage him if you know ahead of time that he likes to try and turn left at every intersection.”

“Why?”

“Frankly, he has never bothered to tell me that.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Are you ever serious?”

“Not unless I have to be. Are you going to leave the kinder with me?”

She shook her head. “Nee, I’ll take them with me.”

“Goot, kinder are scarier than spiders.”

Clara went to collect the children, leaving Paul waiting outside. She might have thought he was kidding about looking after the children but he wasn’t. Toby he could manage but the needs of a girl Sophie’s age were far outside his level of comfort. Paul was still standing beside the buggy when she came out with the children.

“Danki, for the loan of the horse and buggy, Paul. We should be back in an hour or two. Why don’t you start downstairs and save the attic until I return?”

He hung his head and tried to look downcast. “You think I’m not brave enough to go into the spider’s den alone.”

She chuckled. “That’s right.”

“Paul is plenty brave,” Toby insisted.

“Not as brave as your mother,” he replied, meaning what he said.

He opened the buggy door and handed her up. He held her fingers a moment longer than necessary because he liked the way they felt in his hand. His eyes met hers and he saw them darken with some emotion before she looked away and pulled her hand free.

* * *

Clara blamed her fast pulse on the importance of talking to Dan Kauffman. She wasn’t willing to admit Paul had such an effect on her. He was nice-looking, with his sincere brown eyes and light brown hair. In a way, he reminded her of her husband, Adam, but she wasn’t looking to marry again. She needed to put all her time and effort into seeing that Sophie stayed well and providing for both her children.

She picked up the reins. “Frankly, walk on.” As the horse headed down the road, Clara resisted the urge to look back and see if Paul was watching her.

When she reached the highway, Frankly tried to turn left, forcing her mind back to the task at hand. Once she straightened out the horse, she headed down the highway at a steady clip. Frankly had a high-stepping gait that made the miles fly by. He was the kind of horse young men wanted to pull their courting buggies so they could impress the girls. Was there someone Paul hoped to impress? She quickly dismissed the thought as none of her business.

Four miles from her uncle’s farm, Clara allowed the horse to make his preferred turn to the left and entered the driveway for Dan Kauffman’s home. She had only been to the place twice when she was younger but not much had changed. His wife still cultivated an extensive rose garden, and there was a large shaded pool with water lilies where gold and white koi fish made their stately rounds waiting for a handout.

She secured Paul’s horse and allowed the children to go look at the fish while she walked up the graveled path to the front door. If anyone knew why her uncle had changed his mind, or if he hadn’t, it was Dan. Although he wasn’t Amish, he had been her uncle’s closest friend since their boyhood days.

She raised her hand and knocked on the brightly painted red door.

* * *

Paul decided he would spare Clara the task of climbing into the attic with him. He was glad he did the minute he opened the trap door leading to the space. It was as dusty and cobweb-filled as he had suspected it would be.

An hour later, he hauled the last box of odds and ends down the ladder and carried them into the kitchen. Eli King had stored very few things in his attic. There were some books and a set of dishes with three chipped plates. There was a shoebox full of newspaper clippings. As an appraiser, Paul knew they were worthless but he set them aside for Clara to look through.

The final box contained a dozen carved wooden toys. They were dark with age but all in good condition. These were the kind of small items that usually sold well at an auction. He would have to ask Clara if there was a story associated with them. Englisch auction-goers particularly enjoyed purchasing an item with a history.

Paul made a list of every toy and noted the condition in the margin beside the description. When he was finished, he wasn’t sure if he should wait for Clara’s return or if he could go ahead and inventory the kitchen without her. As he was making up his mind to wait, he wandered into the living room and noticed a tall, beautifully carved bible stand in the corner.

It was made of dark oak and deeply carved with vines and leaves in the elaborate German style popular hundreds of years before. The sides and front of the cabinet were panels carved with bible chapters and verses in three-inch-high letters. On the front was Genesis 1:1. Below that one, a panel bore the inscription Isaiah 26:3. On the left side three panels were inscribed with John 3:16, Matthew 5:44 and Philippians 4:13. On the right side was Proverbs 22:6, Daniel 6:22 and Romans 12:2. Paul drew his fingers along the carvings. The verses must have held a special meaning to the cabinetmaker or the person he made it for.

Paul lifted the lid and stared at the huge antique German bible inside. The book was at least six inches thick and bound with red calfskin. He opened the cover and saw the publication date of 1759 on the yellowed page. Clara’s family must have brought this bible with them when they immigrated to America with the first Amish families. This wasn’t going to be sold. This heirloom belonged to Clara to be passed down to her children and her children’s children no matter what Ralph Hobson thought should be done with it.

Paul heard the arrival of a buggy and glanced out the kitchen window. Clara had returned and his heart gave an odd little skip at the sight of her.

He pulled back from the window. This wasn’t normal. He had dated plenty of young women and none of them had triggered a jolt of happiness, or whatever this was, when he saw them.

He walked outside, intending to take care of his horse but Clara was already unhitching Frankly. Should he take over or allow Clara to finish? He wasn’t used to watching a woman do his chores while he stood idly by. “Did he behave for you?”

“He tried several times to turn without permission but once he understood what I wanted, we didn’t have any trouble.” She unhooked the last strap and led him out from between the buggy shafts. “But you will have to get a new buggy whip.”

“What? You whipped my horse?”

“I’m teasing, Paul. Does he look like I beat him?” Frankly was nibbling at her black traveling bonnet. He pulled it off and tossed his head with it between his teeth.

Paul snatched it from the horse and handed it to Clara before he took the lead rope from her. “He doesn’t look whipped but he looks like he is developing more bad habits. Maybe I should cut his ration of apples. Is it okay if I turn him out in your corral?”

“I don’t see why not. I walked him the last mile so he should be cooled down. Good fellow. Thanks for the lift.” She patted the horse’s neck as he walked past her.

Toby and Sophie both had to pat the horse, who put his nose down to them before Paul turned him loose.

“Children, I want you to go play in the backyard.”

“But I want to tell Paul about the fish,” Toby said.

“Me, too,” Sophie said. “They were gold and white and this big.” She held her arms wide.

“You can tell Paul about them another time.” Clara gave them a stern look. They walked away without arguing.

Paul unbuckled the harness and lifted it from Frankly’s back. The tall black gelding shivered all over, happy to be unburdened. After hanging the tack on the wooden fence, Paul opened the gate and let the horse loose. Frankly trotted to the center of the corral. He put his nose to the ground and turned around in a tight circle several times before he laid down and rolled onto his back. He wiggled like an overgrown puppy scratching in delight. Paul would have to groom him again before putting him in a stall for the evening.

When the horse finally got to his feet, he shook all over, sending a cloud of dust flying about him. Paul realized that Clara had followed him to the fence and stood watching the horse, too. “Was your trip successful?” he asked.

“The man I went to see wasn’t home. I left a note asking him to come and see me.”

“Have you tried calling him? Almost every Englisch fellow has a cell phone these days.”

“I did call his home but no one answered. He doesn’t have a message machine. I don’t think he has a cell phone.”

She sounded depressed. He wanted to lift her spirits but he wasn’t sure how. She believed the farm belonged to her but Paul didn’t see how she could be right. The Amish, like many Englisch, took great care to make sure their property passed legally into the hands of their heirs.

She pushed back from the fence. “What did you find in the house?”

“Twenty-two spiders, six mice, a box of newspaper clippings, several bags of material scraps and a box of old carved wooden toys. I decided to tackle the attic and show you how brave I am.”

“I’m rather glad you did. I wasn’t looking forward to it. Were the toys horses, cows, sheep and a collie dog?” she asked with a sad smile.

“That’s exactly what I found.”

“I remember playing with them as a child...” Her voice trailed away as a car turned in the drive. It was Ralph.

He and another man got out of the car. Ralph looked over the property with a heavy frown in place. “I don’t see that you have gotten much done, Mr. Bowman.”

“I have finished the inventory of farm equipment and I’ve started in the house. I’ll begin moving the machinery out of the buildings and into the open tomorrow.”

“I see you’re still hanging around, Clara. Maybe this will hasten your departure.” He turned to the man with him. “This is my attorney, William Sutter.”

A distinguished-looking man with silver hair wearing a fancy Englisch suit stepped forward. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Fisher. I have here the signed and notarized trust document with the amendment attached naming Mr. Hobson as your uncle’s heir, also signed and notarized. I hope this lays to rest any question about the validity of Mr. Hobson’s ownership of this property. I was present at the signing and I assure you that your uncle executed this change of his own free will.”

He handed the papers to Paul. Paul glanced over the documents and handed them to Clara. “It looks legal to me but I’m no expert.”

“Fortunately, I am,” William Sutter said without smiling.

Clara studied the documents and handed them back to Mr. Sutter. “This is not my uncle’s signature. This is a forgery.”

Hobson threw his hands in the air. “Unbelievable.”

Paul stepped closer to Clara and spoke in Pennsylvania Deitsch so the two men could not understand what he was saying. “Be reasonable, Clara. A notary must have proof of the person’s identity before affixing their seal. Without a driver’s license, your uncle would have needed two people who knew him to vouch for him in front of a notary.”

“I don’t care what you say, that is not my uncle’s signature.” She switched to English. “Who vouched for him? I want to speak to the notary. Where can I find him or her?”

“I was one of the people who vouched for Uncle Eli.” Ralph shoved his hands in his front pockets. “The other doesn’t matter. Now you’ve seen the amendment and now you know the place is mine.”

“I will never accept that my uncle deeded this property to you.” She turned pleading eyes to him. “Paul, can’t you see that he is lying? Tell me that you believe me.”


Chapter Four (#u194fafc0-a76c-5927-a571-175e7ddcd1a1)

Clara desperately wanted Paul to say he believed her. Someone had to believe her.

He didn’t. She saw it in his eyes. Ralph and his attorney were too convincing.

She was right and that was what mattered. But how could she prove it? She prayed God would show her the way.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/patricia-davids/his-new-amish-family/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.