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Her Amish Christmas Choice
Leigh Bale
A forbidden love… Communities and hearts unite this Christmas. For Julia Rose, starting her handmade-soap store almost makes up for her lost dreams of marriage and children. With patience and care, Amish carpenter Martin Hostetler renovates the dilapidated building Julia inherited—and sparks her interest in his community. But any romance between them is made impossible by their families’ objections …can faith and love can light their way home?


A forbidden love…
Can Englischer and Amish make a forever match?
For Englischer Julia Rose, starting her first handmade-soap store almost makes up for her lost dreams of marriage and children. With patience and care, Amish carpenter Martin Hostetler renovates the dilapidated building Julia inherited—and sparks her interest in his community’s peaceful ways. But their families’ objections make romance between them impossible…unless faith and love can light their holiday way home.
Colorado Amish Courtships
LEIGH BALE is a Publishers Weekly bestselling author. She is the winner of the prestigious Golden Heart® Award and is a finalist for the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence and the Booksellers’ Best Award. The daughter of a retired US forest ranger, she holds a BA in history. Married in 1981 to the love of her life, Leigh and her professor husband have two children and two grandkids. You can reach her at leighbale.com (http://www.leighbale.com).
Also By Leigh Bale (#udd596fa7-5df2-56cd-9b87-7ae93c043918)
Colorado Amish Courtships
Runaway Amish Bride
His Amish Choice
Her Amish Christmas Choice
Men of Wildfire
Her Firefighter Hero
Wildfire Sweethearts
Reunited by a Secret Child
The Road to Forgiveness
The Forest Ranger’s Promise
The Forest Ranger’s Husband
The Forest Ranger’s Child
Falling for the Forest Ranger
Healing the Forest Ranger
The Forest Ranger’s Return
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Her Amish Christmas Choice
Leigh Bale


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09920-2
HER AMISH CHRISTMAS CHOICE
© 2019 Lora Lee Bale
Published in Great Britain 2019
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.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Note to Readers (#udd596fa7-5df2-56cd-9b87-7ae93c043918)
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“I’m better off staying single, Martin,” Julia said.
Martin almost gasped out loud but caught himself in time. Julia not ever marry? He could hardly contemplate such a situation.
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Love hurts too much. If I don’t fall in love, I can’t be hurt. It’s that simple. I get to say what happens in my life and I’m not at the whim and pleasure of someone who doesn’t really care about me.”
He nodded his assent. “It is true that if you don’t love, you won’t be hurt. But you also won’t have the joy. And besides, if you marry a man who really loves you, he would never want to hurt you.”
Julia was quiet for a moment, her face filled with such sadness that he thought she might cry. “I have loved before but he didn’t love me in return. He abandoned me when I needed him most. It hurt more than I can say. Love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Martin. It can be brutal, cruel and destructive.”
He realized what she said was true. And yet, he couldn’t give up hope.
Not for her. And not for himself…
Dear Reader (#udd596fa7-5df2-56cd-9b87-7ae93c043918),
Have you ever wanted something so badly and it seemed you could never have it no matter what you did? In this book, Julia Rose has dreamed of having a large family all her own. She’s been alone and willingly carried the burden of caring for both her ill parents for so long. Yet, when it appears she has finally found Martin, the man of her heart, she can’t have him because he’s Amish. Julia believes she is faced with the choice of abandoning her mother or turning her back on her love. Only when the people in her life make concessions that will allow Julia and Martin to be together does she discover that life is full of surprises and God can bless us when we least expect it.
I know that as we accept and wait upon God’s will in our own lives and follow the Savior’s example, we can find peace and joy no matter what difficulties we might face.
I hope you enjoy reading this story and I invite you to visit my website at LeighBale.com (http://www.LeighBale.com) to learn more about my books.
May you find peace in the Lord’s words!
Leigh Bale
I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.
—Ecclesiastes 9:11
To my very own Rose, who has brought me more joy than I ever thought possible.
Contents
Cover (#uebbb972d-591b-57d1-b436-916508400621)
Back Cover Text (#u0eab2772-db0f-5549-86e1-5df4f61b2121)
About the Author (#u75873d8a-9cf8-542c-b2ff-e3d4e0c9c07b)
Booklist (#u5f301f27-5cdc-5c3f-a23c-2e1fd0657e70)
Title Page (#u627b90d7-3222-55c6-a6c0-281baa9762bf)
Copyright (#u67bcdeda-6cce-5f86-a1bc-6e256bdc1462)
Note to Readers
Introduction (#ub296ae2d-b6f1-5242-a6c0-f14e924a6716)
Dear Reader (#u16e6fa9c-7ba6-5441-9642-e36c25ec1e9e)
Bible Verse (#ub27368ad-7d7b-5536-a515-c5d7c7b5f4cf)
Dedication (#ud12b446b-c615-5ffb-b27a-d066078b3add)
Chapter One (#u83fe7384-ef6e-5879-8647-1f0ff0d8ee92)
Chapter Two (#u0270f6c1-e751-5910-9380-69c2d8a0f008)
Chapter Three (#u3bf7be34-d7bb-582b-b3ea-37005ad2908a)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#udd596fa7-5df2-56cd-9b87-7ae93c043918)
“Hallo?”
Julia Rose jerked, startled. The two nails she’d been holding between her pursed lips dropped to the wooden planks of the front porch and bounced off into the weedy flower bed.
She swiveled around on the rickety ladder and caught a glimpse of a tall man standing directly behind her. She didn’t have time to return his greeting. The leather gloves she wore were overly large and caused her to lose her grasp on the heavy hammer. It followed the nails, thudding to the wooden porch below. The ladder wobbled and she fought to retain her grip on the tall post she’d been holding upright with her left hand. For fifteen minutes, she’d struggled to get it in just the right spot so she could nail it into place. Now, it slid sideways. Without its support, the heavy canopy above sagged dangerously near her head. The overly stressed timbers gave a low groan and she widened her eyes.
“Acht gewwe!” the man called in a foreign language.
A sickening crack sounded above and Julia scrambled down the ladder. Like a zipper coming undone, the nails holding the awning to the side of the building pinged into the air as the canopy tore away from the outer wall and knocked her to the ground. She gasped in pain as the ruined wood continued its descent toward her.
With a cry of alarm, she curled against the side of the wall, protecting her head with her arms. She was vaguely aware of the man shielding her, taking the brunt of the weight against his own back.
“Oof!”
She glanced up and found his face no more than a breath away. She gazed into his eyes, catching the subtle scent of licorice. His muscular arms held her tight as another piece of the canopy bludgeoned him with a shocking thump. He jerked at the impact but made no sound. For several seconds, they both held perfectly still. She felt uncomfortable with his close proximity but couldn’t move away just then.
“Alles fit? Are you all right?” His voice sounded low and calm, like the approach of thunder off in the distance.
“I think so.” She stared in fascination, captivated by his piercing blue eyes… The kind of eyes that could see deep inside a person’s heart and know exactly what they were thinking. In those brief moments, she took in his plain clothes, his angular face, short auburn hair and a faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. No doubt he spent hours working outside in the sun.
“Mar-tin! Mar-tin, are you okay?”
Julia looked up and saw a boy of approximately fifteen years standing in front of the ruined porch. Dressed identical to the man, his short, stocky build was accented by plain black pants, a blue chambray shirt, black suspenders and a black felt hat.
They were Amish!
“Ja, I’m okay, Hank.” The man holding onto Julia let her go and moved back with a slight grimace.
She scurried to safety, standing beyond the reach of the broken canopy. With her out of the way, the man jerked to the side and let the remaining boards sag to the ground. They hung there like a great, broken beast.
“It’ll be all right now. You’ll be okay.” The boy named Hank patted Julia’s arm, looking directly into her eyes as he earnestly searched her expression for distress.
Hank was a stranger and again she felt uncomfortable by the invasion of her personal space but saw no guile in his dark eyes. He looked genuinely concerned for her welfare. His brown eyes slanted upward and he had an open, childlike expression. As she took in his reddish-blond hair and small, flat nose, she recognized instantly that Hank must have Down Syndrome.
“Y-yes. I’m fine,” she said.
He smiled wide, pushing his wire-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose. He looked so innocent and sincere that she had to return his infectious smile.
“Mar-tin, she’s okay. How about you? Are you okay?” Hank asked, his accent heavy.
“Ja, I’m all right,” the man named Martin said.
But Julia had her doubts. He stood slowly and sidestepped the rubble, stumbling before he regained his footing. As he rubbed his left arm, a flash of pain crossed his face. He clenched his eyes closed for a brief moment but didn’t utter a single word of complaint. His black felt hat had been knocked from his head. He opened his eyes and glanced at her, a look of worry creasing his handsome forehead.
“You are not injured?” he asked, his voice tinged with an edge of authority.
She shook her head. “No, thanks to you.”
She coughed and waved a hand at the dust filling the air. Martin had used his own body to shield her from the heavy boards. She considered what might have happened if he hadn’t been there.
He stood up straight, his great height a sharp contrast to Hank’s. “You should rope off this area so no one walks by unaware and puts themselves in danger.”
“Yes, I’ll do that. Th-thank you,” she said, still breathless and amazed by the ordeal.
“You’re willkomm.” He brushed the dust off his clothes.
“Mar-tin, I saw what happened and came to help.” Hank’s face was lit by an eager expression.
“Ach, you sure did. I’m glad you were here.” Martin rested a hand on Hank’s shoulder and the boy smiled at the man with adoration. The two looked alike, yet Martin didn’t seem old enough to be Hank’s father. Perhaps they were brothers?
“Thank the gut Lord no one was seriously injured today.” Martin flexed his right arm as if testing it for soundness. He arched his waist, his blue chambray shirt stretching taut across his solid chest.
Hmm, very odd. Though she understood his comment, she realized he was mixing English with some other language.
He looped his thumbs through his black suspenders. The tips of his heavy work boots were almost covered by the hem of his plain gray pants. A brisk October wind ruffled his short hair, but he didn’t seem to feel the chill. Within two weeks, it would be November. Julia pulled her own jacket tighter in front of her, ever conscious that winter was fast approaching.
When the man reached to scoop up his hat and placed it on his head, she tried to look away. Since she’d never seen an Amish man before—even when she’d lived in Kansas, where she knew a few settlements existed—she couldn’t help staring. When she and her mom had recently moved here to Riverton, Colorado, she hadn’t expected to find any Amish. But more than that, she wondered what he was doing here at her place.
“Who are you?” she asked, trying not to sound rude.
He bent over and tossed the heavy post aside, his movements strong and athletic. “I am Martin Hostetler and this is my younger brother Hank. Carl Nelson, the attorney in town, told me you are looking for a handyman to fix up your place. I’ve done work for Carl in the past. If the owner of your business is available, I’d like to speak with him about a job.”
Him. He thought the owner of the store was a man.
A stab of pain pierced Julia’s heart. Her father had never owned this rundown hovel; he’d died just eleven months earlier after a valiant battle with pancreatic cancer. Both Julia and her mother missed him more than they could say.
“I’m the owner, Julia Rose,” she said, lifting her chin higher and trying to force a note of confidence into her voice.
After her father became sick, she’d supported her parents off the proceeds of her handmade soap. Mom had lupus and couldn’t help much. As an only child, Julia had stepped in to care for them. It had been a meager living but Julia was grateful her mother had taught her the craft. She’d learned to make lotions, creams, facial masks and lip balms, too. But if they didn’t get the soap store up and running within the next six weeks, she wouldn’t have time to make more soap, which could jeopardize her wholesale contract.
“Ach, you are the owner? But I thought Walter Rose still owned this building.” Martin blinked, gazing at the drab brown structure with surprise.
“That’s right. He was my grandfather. But he died a couple of months ago and left everything to me.”
“Ach, I didn’t know. Mr. Nelson didn’t tell me that. My condolences.”
“Ja, my condenses, too,” Hank said, struggling to pronounce the word with his thick tongue.
Julia couldn’t hold back a small laugh, to which the boy smiled. It was a blunt, open smile that sparkled his dark eyes and lit up his face with joy.
She glanced at Martin, seeing the genuine compassion in his eyes. She also felt sad for her grandfather’s passing but couldn’t really miss him. Not when she’d never met the man. Now that she was twenty-three, she mourned the fact that she’d never gotten to know her grandpa. As an only child, she had lived a rather lonely life and longed for family and friends. She thought she’d found that when she became engaged to Dallin almost two years earlier. But it didn’t last. And all she knew about her grandfather was that he had not gotten along well with her father. At all. The two had a falling-out years before her birth and hadn’t spoken since. She had no idea why.
“Mr. Nelson sent you here?” she asked.
“Ja, he said you need a handyman to help with repairs.”
Carl Nelson was the only attorney in town and had contacted Julia after Grandpa Walt died. Located at the end of Main Street, the store was rundown but spacious, with lots of potential for growth. Her grandfather had lived in the two-bedroom apartment upstairs, which included a small bathroom and kitchen-living area. But they had no electricity in spite of having turned the power back on. Julia wasn’t sure, but she thought there was a problem with the fuse box. Apparently, the same situation had existed while Grandpa Walt had lived here. She and her mother had arrived in town two weeks earlier and were still using the gas and kerosene lamps he’d left behind.
“I definitely need a handyman,” Julia said as she explained the situation to Martin. “With my father being sick and not enough money to pay the bills, we had to shut off the power back home in Kansas. I’ve contacted an electrician here in Riverton, but it’ll cost a lot to replace the fuse panel and upgrade the system. We need to wait until I have more funds. But it’s no matter. We kind of got used to doing without electricity. We live a simple life.”
He nodded. “You are better off without it and I don’t need it for my work.”
“That’s good. Paying you is my priority right now, so I can get my studio and store up and running. Do you know carpentry work?” she asked, wondering how he could do the job without a power drill and electric saw.
Another nod, a slight smile curving his lips. “Ja, and plumbing, but I don’t use electricity.”
Though she’d never met an Amish person, she’d heard the use of electricity was against their religious values, or something like that.
“But there’s just one thing you need to know… Hank works with me. I promise he won’t be a bother or slow me down. Is that okay?” Martin asked.
As he listened to this exchange, Hank’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging slack. His expression looked so intense that she didn’t have the heart to say no.
“Of course. That will be fine,” she said, realizing she had no one else to hire. Not in a town this size. Thankfully, the money Grandpa Walt had left her would allow her to pay a handyman.
Hank’s eyes sparkled with pure delight. “Ach, I work hard, too. I help a lot.”
She returned his smile, a feeling of deep compassion filling her heart. She liked this boy and his brother. All her life, she’d wished she had a brother or sister of her own. Someone to help look after her ailing parents. Since her breakup with her lying ex-fiancé, she’d felt so alone and it warmed her heart to see how kind these two brothers were to each other.
“Gut. What needs to be done?” Martin asked.
Julia shrugged, brushing at her faded blue jeans. “As you can see, the front porch is falling apart, there are two gaping holes in one of the walls of my workroom, and I need to install counters, cabinets and shelving in the area where I plan to make and sell my soap.”
Martin nodded, seeming to mentally calculate how to accomplish these tasks. “You make soap?”
“Yes, among other things. I sell my products nationwide. But since the soap needs to cure for four or five weeks, I’m eager to get some made before my next contract comes due the first of February. I supply handmade soaps to KostSmart.”
He looked at her without recognition. Obviously, this Amish man didn’t get out much if he’d never heard of the giant supermarket chain. But since they didn’t have a KostSmart here in Riverton, she figured it was unimportant. As long as the town had a postal service, she could ship her goods anywhere in the world.
“Follow me.” Julia slipped through the front door. “The porch is the first thing I need repaired, so we can walk inside without fearing for our lives.”
“Ja, I see that.” Martin showed a wry smile as he trailed after her. Upon entering the spacious room, he pulled the hat off his head. Hank did likewise, copying his brother’s every movement.
Wow! They sure were polite. Dallin, her ex-fiancé, had never treated her so courteously. Never said please or thank you. Never asked how she was. How it hurt to discover he was coming over not to spend time with her, but to be near her former best friend, Debbie. But Dallin had loved kids. Julia had longed for a family of her own and thought she would have it with him. Losing her fiancé and best friend all at once had broken her heart and left her feeling more alone than ever before.
She mentally shook her head. No! She was not going to think about Dallin. She’d already cried buckets of tears over him. She and Mom had a fresh start and it didn’t include her two-timing fiancé and ex–best friend. But he’d taught her one important lesson: never trust a man.
“Exactly how skilled a carpenter and plumber are you?” she asked.
“I am skilled enough for the work you need done.” Martin’s voice was filled with confidence and a sweeping honesty. But Dallin’s lies had taught her to question everything.
“Can you expand on your experience, please?” she asked.
“Ja…” Martin took a deep breath. “I have helped the men in my Gmay build seven barns, nine houses, a variety of sheds and outbuildings and many pieces of furniture in my father’s home.”
“What is a Gmay?” she asked.
“The Amish community here in Riverton. Members of our congregation follow the same Ordnung and attend church together. We also rely on one another in all facets of everyday life,” he said.
“Ordnung?” she asked, enthralled by his use of new words and curious to know their meaning.
“The unwritten rules that govern our community.”
“Oh. Then, I suppose you are skilled enough,” she said.
Still, a lance of skepticism speared her. Although the building she owned was quite shabby, Julia had a vision of a happy place to live. Some nails and paint could transform this store beautifully. She was determined to make it work. Determined to secure a future for her and Mom. She must! She was alone now and had promised her father before his death that she’d look after her mother. After all, Mom was the only family she had left.
Martin glanced around the enormous room filled with boxes, broken furniture and piles of junk.
“Except for the old woodstove, I’d like everything hauled off to the dump,” she said.
“Ja, I can do that. Hank will help me,” Martin said.
Hank nodded eagerly. Julia didn’t see how they could carry everything off without a truck, but she didn’t say so. She had already cleared tons of debris from their living quarters upstairs and stacked it neatly in the backyard until they could haul it off. When she considered the bit of money Grandpa Walt had left her, she didn’t want to spend it on a car. Although she had a driver’s license, they’d sold their broken-down truck to pay bills many months ago. When she and Mom had moved to Colorado, they’d shipped their few possessions here, then traveled to town via bus. The general store, post office and bank were within walking distance, so they shouldn’t need a vehicle.
“What do you charge?” She braced herself, but there was no need. Martin requested such a low hourly rate for himself and Hank that she was compelled to offer more.
Martin shook his head. “Ne, the price I have asked is sufficient for our needs.”
“But…but I don’t want to cheat you,” she said.
“You won’t. I trust you. It is a fair price for both of us,” he insisted, his gaze never wavering.
Hank didn’t say a word, just gawked at his brother with complete confidence.
“All right. When can you start?” she asked, hoping he didn’t let her down.
“Right now. But we don’t work on Sundays. I’ll get my tools.”
He headed outside with Hank. She watched them through the grimy windows that desperately needed cleaning. While many people worked or played on Sunday, she figured Martin and his family must go to church. With her father’s death and mother’s illness, she’d been thinking about God quite a bit lately. She’d been hungering to know and understand His place in her life. She’d even considered going to church, to see if she could learn more about Him, though she hadn’t had time to act on that goal yet.
It was then she noticed a horse and buggy-wagon, tied beneath the tall elm tree that edged the five-space parking lot in front of the store. Martin reached into the back of the wagon, lifted out a large wooden toolbox with a handle on it, then headed back toward the store with Hank trailing after him like a waddling duck.
With a measuring tape, Martin calculated the expanse of the porch and made some notes with a pencil and notepad. Placing his hands on his narrow hips, he studied the wreckage. Hank copied his brother’s stance, his pudgy hands on his thick waist. Standing side by side, the two brothers looked endearing. When Martin jerked on a pair of leather gloves and started stacking debris off to the side of the building, Hank did likewise.
Soon, Martin appeared at the front door. “I’m afraid the lumber is rotted clear through.” He met Julia’s gaze.
“What do you recommend?” she asked.
“I should install new lumber and then paint it to match the rest of the store. It’ll be more sound and last you for years to come.”
Again, she was struck by his self-confidence. “All right. If you’ll go to the building supply store, just tell Byron Stott what you need and to put the charge on my account. I’ve already made arrangements with him and he knows I’ll have someone coming in to buy supplies for me.”
She didn’t tell him that she’d also warned Byron not to let her new handyman cheat her. Byron knew he must provide her with a receipt. She’d trusted money to Dallin once and it had quickly disappeared. She wouldn’t do that again.
Martin nodded, then turned on his boot heels and went outside. Hank was poking the dirt with a long stick but came running when his brother called him. As the two climbed into the buggy, Julia folded her arms, thinking it was much too cold in the shop. Soon, the snow would fly. She should speak with Martin about obtaining firewood for the old black stove. Hopefully he would know where she could buy fuel at the lowest price.
Turning, she glanced out the window, noticing the horse and buggy had disappeared from view. Trust. It wasn’t a new notion to her, but something she no longer freely gave to everyone she met. Dallin had betrayed her trust, but she was willing to try one more time. She just hoped Martin Hostetler didn’t let her down.


Martin stood inside the building supply store and gazed at the stacks of two-by-fours he intended to buy. Wearing his heavy leather gloves, he lifted several boards onto his flat cart and thought about the woman who had just hired him.
Julia Rose was pretty, with a small upturned nose, a stubborn chin and soft brown eyes that showed intelligence and an eagerness to succeed but also a bit of self-doubt. With her russet hair pulled back in a long ponytail and no makeup, she looked almost Amish. But not in the blue jeans and shirt she was wearing. And most definitely not without the white organdy prayer kapp that all Amish women wore.
She was Englisch. A woman of the world. Yet, Martin couldn’t help admiring her spunk. The way she’d stood on that rickety ladder and gripped the hammer told him she was determined. In fact, she reminded him of his mamm, who had raised six children and still worked beside his daed after twenty-eight years, doing whatever needed to be done without complaint.
“Whatcha gonna make?” Hank asked in Deitsch, the German dialect his Amish people used among themselves.
Martin turned and found his brother standing beside him. He was as sweet and sincere as they came. The Amish only went to school through the eighth grade. Now that Hank was too old for that, Martin had taken him under his wing. Both his parents tended to lose their patience with Hank and his penchant for getting into trouble, but Martin had deep compassion for his younger brother and had recently started taking the boy with him.
“Remember, we’re making a porch overhang for Rose Soapworks?” Martin said.
“Ja, that’s right. I remember now,” Hank said, his thick voice filled with a happy lilt. Nothing seemed to ruffle the boy’s feathers. He was always in a good mood.
Pushing his cart, Martin headed toward the aisle where sheets of metal siding were stacked in tidy order. He was careful not to buy too much. He’d been pleasantly surprised when Julia Rose had told him to come pick out the supplies he would need and he didn’t want to betray her trust.
“Julia’s gonna like the porch we make, huh, Mar-tin?” Hank said, speaking his name as if it were two words.
“Ja, I hope so. But you should call her Miss Rose.”
“How come? I like her name. Julia. Julia. Julia,” Hank repeated in his heavy staccato voice.
“It’s not good manners for you to call her by her first name. She’s a grown woman and you’re still a youth. It’s proper for you to call her Miss Rose.” Martin stepped past the boy, pushing his cart as he went.
With dogged determination, Hank hurried after him. “I like her last name, too. Rose. Rose. Rose. How come she’s got two first names?”
“I don’t know but Rose is her last name.” Martin didn’t try to overexplain as he rounded the corner and quickly filled a paper sack with nails and lag bolts. He was used to his brother’s incessant chatter and didn’t let it bother him. He selected several pieces of flashing to sieve off water during rainstorms.
Hank grinned and slid his dirty fingers beneath the suspenders crossing his shirtfront. He’d removed his leather gloves and tucked them into his waistband. “We’re gonna get enough money to build your barn, huh?”
“We’re working toward that goal and a little extra so Mamm can make you a new coat and vest for Church Sunday,” Martin conceded.
“Ach, a gray coat ’cause I look gut in gray. Julia sure is schee. Don’t you think so?”
“Miss Rose,” Martin corrected.
“Ja, Miss Rose sure is schee,” Hank said.
Yes, Julia was pretty, but Martin didn’t say so. It wouldn’t be proper, especially since she was Englisch. Even now, he couldn’t forget the soft feel of her during those few scant seconds when he’d held her in his arms, or the fragrance of her hair, a subtle mixture of citrus. And the moment he’d looked into her beautiful brown eyes, he’d felt something shift inside his heart like the cracking of a giant oak tree’s trunk beneath a bolt of lightning.
No! He mustn’t think such things. Julia wasn’t Amish and he didn’t want to do anything unseemly that might get him into trouble with his parents or church elders.
Hurrying to the front of the store, he set the bag of nails on the counter. Byron Stott, the proprietor, stood behind the cash register. He pushed a jagged thatch of salt-and-pepper hair out of his eyes and glanced at Martin.
“Anything else you need?”
“Ne, this is all. Please put everything on Julia Rose’s account,” Martin said.
Byron lifted a bushy eyebrow in curiosity. “So, she hired you as her handyman, did she?”
Martin nodded.
“And me, too,” Hank chimed in.
Byron grunted. “She told me someone would be coming in.”
Martin stood silent. Though he had lived in this community over ten years and knew the townspeople quite well, he was Amish and understood the expectations of his faith. He should keep himself apart from the world and not become too friendly with the Englisch townsfolk.
Moving around Martin’s cart, Byron lifted and moved each item to access the price tag. The beep of the scanning gun filled the air in quick repetition.
“You gonna ask Julia to drive home with you from the singings?” Hank asked his brother.
Noticing that Byron was watching him with amusement, Martin’s face flushed with heat and he quickly turned away. “Ne, of course not.”
The singings were usually held after church services and included all the young people who were of dating age. As a group, they spent the evening singing or, if weather permitted, playing volleyball outside. They enjoyed refreshments afterward and frequently the young men drove the young women home in their buggies. Alone. This form of Amish dating frequently resulted in marriage. But at the age of twenty-five, Martin had long ago stopped attending such events because the girls were too young and immature to hold his interest.
“How come?” Hank persisted.
“Your kind can’t marry outside your church.” Byron Stott spoke as if it should be obvious.
“Oh.” Hank’s mouth rounded in confusion. He stared at the man, the tip of his tongue protruding between his lips. “But what if she becomes Amish? Then it would be okay. Right?”
Martin didn’t respond but he saw Byron’s curious stare. This wasn’t the first time that Hank had embarrassed him in public.
“Since you don’t want her, I’m gonna invite her to the singing. We can make her Amish and then she’s gonna be my girl,” Hank said in a happy voice.
Byron flipped a lever and opened the till on the cash register as he laughed out loud. “A grown woman like Julia Rose isn’t gonna join the Amish and she definitely won’t be your girl.”
Martin bristled at the proprietor’s unkind words but remained mute.
Hank scowled. “How come? I’d treat her real gut. Just like my vadder treats my mudder. She is his queen. And that’s how I’d treat Julia. Like a queen.”
Byron just snorted and looked away.
Martin didn’t say a word. He didn’t want to hurt his brother’s feelings. Familye and marriage meant everything to the Amish people. Telling Hank that he would probably never marry and have a familye of his own wouldn’t be nice.
Not when Martin had failed to secure a wife for himself. He knew he should have wed long ago. It was the expectation of his people. He’d stepped out with every eligible Amish woman here in Riverton and those living in the nearby town of Westcliffe, too. A couple of years ago, he’d spent several months with his relatives in Indiana, seeking a suitable Amish wife. But he’d failed miserably. It seemed either the woman didn’t want him or he didn’t want her, with nothing in between.
He thought about Julia Rose again and the way the sunlight gleamed against her russet hair. Wouldn’t it be ironic if he finally found someone he wanted to marry…and she happened to be Englisch? Such a relationship would never work. Either Martin would be shunned for marrying outside his faith, or his wife would have to convert. He couldn’t see either scenario happening between him and Julia Rose. Besides, his faith was too important for him to give up.
His thoughts were ridiculous and he almost laughed out loud at his silly musings.
Byron completed the tally, made some notes on a ledger, then handed a long receipt to Martin.
“Give this to Julia. She’ll be expecting it,” Byron said.
With a quick nod, Martin folded the receipt and tucked it inside his black felt hat since he had no pockets.
“Ach, I don’t see why I can’t invite Julia to the singings just because she isn’t Amish. I’m gonna ask her to be my girl. You just wait and see,” Hank mumbled as they headed outside.
Martin was not going to comment. Not in a million years. Hank saw mostly the good in other people and didn’t always understand social mores. Although their mother was accepting of Hank’s Down syndrome, she had confided to Martin once that she feared she had been punished by Gott for doing something wrong. Martin had comforted her, believing it was just the way Hank was. The boy was so eager to please and rarely showed anger or malice. He brought so much joy into their lives that Martin thought he was a blessing, not a punishment.
The buggy-wagon was parked off to the side where Byron Stott had constructed a hitching tether for his Amish clientele. Hank skipped along beside Martin, stopping to inspect an ant crawling across the pavement. Martin quickly loaded his purchases into the back of the wagon, waited for Hank to get inside the buggy, then took the lead lines into his hands and slapped them against the horse’s back. As he turned onto the street and headed toward Rose Soapworks, he let the rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves settle his jangled nerves.
For some reason, Hank’s senseless chatter upset him today. It had never bothered him before. Martin usually had a quiet heart. But somehow, meeting Julia Rose had unsettled him more than he’d realized.
He’d recently purchased sixty-five acres of fine farmland just two miles outside of town. In the spring, he planned to build a barn and raise horses and a familye of his own. But just one problem: he had no wife. No one to build a house for. No one to love and dote on the way he longed to do. No reason to work so hard for the land he’d just acquired. And no one to love him in return.
But he was determined to change all of that. And soon.

Chapter Two (#udd596fa7-5df2-56cd-9b87-7ae93c043918)
“Who is that?”
Julia turned and found her mother standing beside her in the spacious workroom at the front of the store.
It was lunchtime and Julia was getting ready to make sandwiches when she thought perhaps she should ask her new workmen if they were hungry. Gazing out the wide windows, she’d been watching Martin and Hank tap-tapping with hammers as they rebuilt the front porch. Or rather, Martin did most of the work while Hank hopped around in a circle, chased a stray dog and laughed out loud at absolutely nothing at all.
“They’re our new handymen. The man’s name is Martin Hostetler and that’s his younger brother Hank. Mr. Nelson recommended them to us,” Julia said.
Her mother frowned. At the age of forty-four, Sharon Rose was still fairly young but she had lupus and not much stamina. Though she never wore makeup and insisted on keeping her long, graying hair pinned in a tight bun at the back of her head, she had a pretty face with soft brown eyes. Dressed like Julia in blue jeans and tennis shoes, Sharon took a deep breath and let it go.
“But they’re Amish,” she said.
“Yes, that surprised me, as well. But Martin rescued me when the porch canopy fell on top of me and he says that he’s an experienced carpenter and plumber. Apparently, he’s helped build numerous structures.”
The scowl on Sharon’s face deepened. “I have no doubt that’s true. The Amish always help each other build their own homes and barns. But isn’t there someone else you can hire?”
Julia figured Mom had acquired knowledge about the Amish sometime during her life. But her mother’s doubt caused a lance of uncertainty to spear Julia’s heart. She was trying so hard to be a savvy businesswoman and to keep her promise to her father. Had she made a mistake by hiring Martin without knowing more about him? No, she didn’t think so.
“Not that I know of. Mr. Nelson told me he would send us one of the best carpenters in the area. He said the man would work hard and wouldn’t cheat us,” she said.
“That’s probably true. The Amish are brutally honest. At least they have that quality going for them.” Mom said the words with contempt, as though it was a failing rather than a virtue. That piqued Julia’s curiosity even more. Since Dallin had lied to her on several occasions, she was glad to hear that she could trust Martin.
“How do you seem to know so much about them?” Julia asked.
Mom shrugged and continued to gaze out the filthy windows, her eyes narrowed and filled with doubt. “I knew some Amish people once. They were some of the most cruel, judgmental people I ever met. I don’t want anything to do with them again.”
Julia flinched. Wow. That sounded a bit harsh.
“Surely that was an isolated case. There are good and bad people in all walks of life, right?”
Mom hesitated several moments. “I suppose so.”
“Besides, I’ve already hired Martin. I can’t fire him now without just cause,” Julia said.
Mom didn’t reply, which wasn’t odd. She was a quiet woman, keeping most of her thoughts to herself. Instead, Julia faced her mother and gave her a brief hug. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s going to be fine.”
Mom nodded and showed a tremulous smile. After all, she was still mourning Dad. “Yes, of course, you’re right. I’m just being silly.”
“Ahem, excuse me.”
The two women whirled around and found Martin standing in the doorway, hat in hand.
“Oh, Martin. I want you to meet my mother, Sharon,” Julia said.
“Mrs. Rose.” He nodded courteously, his gaze never wavering.
Mom just looked at him with a sober expression. Julia didn’t understand. It wasn’t like her mother to be unkind or to disapprove of someone without knowing them first.
“Hank and I are gonna take a brief lunch break, if that’s all right,” Martin said.
“Yes, of course,” Julia said. “In fact, I was just coming to ask if you’d like a sandwich.”
“Ne, danke. We brought our own lunch.” Without waiting for her reply, he disappeared from view.
Mom stepped closer to the door. A blast of sunlight gleamed through a small patch of glass that wasn’t covered by grunge and Sharon lifted a hand to shade her eyes. She and Julia watched for a moment as Martin retrieved a red personal-size cooler from his buggy. Hank joined him as the two sat on the edge of the porch. Had Martin been so certain that Julia would hire him that he had packed a lunch? Or did he always come into town prepared?
“What’s troubling you, Mom?” Julia asked.
Maybe Mom feared Martin might try to steal from them the way Dallin had done. It hadn’t been much money but enough that it had made their lives more difficult. Mom had loved Dallin and Debbie, too. They’d become part of the family. Or so Julia had thought. They’d eloped just three weeks before Dad’s death. Because he’d been on so much pain medication, Dad didn’t know what Dallin had done. But the final blow was when he didn’t even attend her father’s funeral. Dallin and Debbie’s betrayal had devastated her and Mom.
“No, of course not. I have no doubt he’ll do a fine job. It’s just that…”
“What?” Julia urged.
Sharon waved a hand and showed a wide smile. Reaching out, she caressed Julia’s cheek. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just missing your father, that’s all. In the past, he always dealt with such things. But you’re doing a fine job. I’m sure it’ll be okay. And now, I’d better return to work. That back room isn’t going to clean itself out.”
“Mom, why don’t you go lie down for a while? I know your joints are hurting and I don’t want you to overdo it.”
“I’m fine, dear.” Sharon limped toward the hallway leading to the back of the building. Julia watched her go, worried about her despite her assurances.
When she looked back at Martin, Julia saw that he’d laid a clean cloth on the porch and pulled out several slices of homemade bread, ham, two golden pears and thick wedges of apple pie. After compiling the bread and meat into sandwiches, Hank eagerly picked one up and almost took a bite. Martin stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. Without a word, Martin removed his hat and bowed his head reverently. Hank did likewise. For the count of thirty, the two held still and Julia realized they must be praying.
She envied the close sibling relationship they shared. There was something so serene about their bent heads that she felt a rash of goose bumps cover her arms. Then Martin released a breath and they began to eat. While Martin chewed thoughtfully, Hank’s cheeks bulged with food and he glanced around with distraction.
At that moment, Martin looked up and saw her. Julia’s face flushed with embarrassed heat. How rude of her to stand here and watch them. Yet, she couldn’t move away. She felt transfixed with curiosity. Especially when Martin gave her a warm smile. With his back turned, Hank didn’t notice her. Taking his sandwich, he hopped up and ran to climb the elm tree. Some unknown force caused Julia to step outside to speak with Martin.
“Um, I hope you don’t think me impolite but can I ask what you were doing a few minutes ago?” she asked.
Martin tilted his head to the side and blinked in confusion. “You mean when I was working on the porch?”
She shook her head. “No, before you ate. You bowed your heads for a long time. Were you praying?”
He nodded and bit into his pear, chewed for a moment, then swallowed. “Ja, we always pray before a meal. To thank the Lord for His bounty and to ask a blessing on our food. Don’t you do the same?”
How interesting. How quaint, yet authentic.
“No, I’m afraid not. I wasn’t raised that way,” she answered truthfully.
But even as she spoke, she wondered why not. It seemed so appropriate to thank God for all that He had given her. Rather than being odd, it seemed right.
She stepped nearer. “What do you say in your prayers?”
“That depends.” He indicated that she should sit nearby on the porch and she did.
“On what?”
“Ach, sometimes we say the Lord’s prayer before a meal. If there is trouble brewing at home or a special blessing we need, I often mention that to Gott and ask for His help. Other times, we pray at church meetings as a congregation and as a familye. And still other times, we say personal prayers in private. Most of our prayers are silent but they all differ, depending on their purpose and what is in my heart.”
Yes, she could understand that. She’d oftentimes carried a prayer inside her heart but had never spoken one out loud. Because frankly, she didn’t know how to do so.
“Do you pray often?” she asked.
“Ja, many times each day. Why do you ask?”
With her father’s death, Mom’s illness, Dallin’s betrayal, financial problems and their recent move to Colorado, she’d needed to know God was nearby. To know that He was watching over them and she wasn’t alone. But her prayers were always in silence, spoken within.
She shrugged. “I was just curious. I wasn’t really raised with prayer in my daily life. But there are times when I speak to God in my heart.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “You believe in Gott then?”
“Yes, I do.” Giving voice to her belief deepened her conviction. That God lived and was conscious of His children now in modern times, just as He had been in ancient times. She’d never really gone to church, yet she had decided for herself that she believed in a loving creator who was conscious of her needs. But unfortunately, she knew very little about Him.
Martin flashed a gentle smile. “I often carry a prayer in my heart, as well. Gott is perfect and knows all things. He hears all prayers, even those we don’t speak out loud. Although He doesn’t always answer us on our timetable. When was the last time you prayed?”
She took a deep inhale and let it go. “Yesterday, but I prayed most the night my father died. I couldn’t understand why God had abandoned us. But it’s odd. Instead of anger, I felt a warmth deep within my chest and an unexplainable knowledge that God was with us even during that dark time. And Mom became sick with lupus even before Dad was diagnosed with cancer. She helps with the soap making but she can’t do a lot. Still, I knew I’d find a way to take care of her. And then, a few months later, Carl Nelson called to say that my Grandpa Walt had passed away and left me this store. That’s when we moved here. So it seems the Lord heard and answered my prayers after all. I just wish my father hadn’t died.”
Now why had she told Martin all of that? She didn’t know him. Not really. Yet she had confided some deeply personal things to him. She stiffened her spine, hoping Martin didn’t make fun of her.
“I’m sorry you lost your vadder,” he said. “You and your mudder must have gone through a very difficult ordeal. But I’m so glad you recognize how the Lord has blessed you. I believe when we think all is lost, that is when Gott is testing us, to see if we will call on Him in faith or in anger. Yet, He doesn’t leave us comfortless. He is always with us if we seek Him out.”
Martin’s words touched her heart like nothing else could. For a moment, she felt as though God truly was close to her. That He wasn’t a remote, disinterested God, who was withdrawn and didn’t really care about her and Mom.
“Hank, don’t climb so far. Komm down now. It’s time for us to get back to work,” Martin called to his brother.
Turning her head, Julia saw that the boy was high in the elm, clinging to a heavy branch. The boy looked over at them, saw Julia and immediately scrambled down.
The enchanted moment was broken. Although she’d like nothing better, Julia realized she couldn’t sit here all day chatting with Martin. She had plenty of work to do. Honestly, she was stunned that Martin was so easy to talk to.
“Well, I’d better get inside and help Mom. Thank you for answering my questions.” She came to her feet, dusting off her blue jeans.
“Anytime,” he said.
Hank came running, a huge smile on his face. “Hallo, Julia. Did you see how high I climbed?”
“Miss Rose,” Martin corrected the boy with a stern lift of his eyebrows.
Hank ignored his brother, focusing on Julia. “I went higher than ever before. I could even see the top of your roof. You have a big hole up there where the shingles have blown away.”
Julia blinked, then glanced at Martin. “Oh, dear. A hole in the roof? And winter is coming on.”
“Don’t worry. As soon as I’ve completed the porch, I’ll take a look at it,” Martin said.
“But there are so many other chores needing to be done. I didn’t even think about the roof.” A feeling of helpless dread almost overwhelmed her.
“Never fear. The Lord will bless us and it’ll all get done.”
Martin sounded so confident. So sure of himself. So filled with conviction. She couldn’t help envying his faith. His words of reassurance brought her a bit of comfort, but what if he was wrong? What if they didn’t get the workroom set up in time?
She had been making single batches of soap up in the tiny kitchen of their apartment almost every evening but that would only satisfy the grand opening of their store on December 1. It would take her four weeks of making super batches of soap to satisfy her wholesale contract, and the soap required four to five weeks to cure after it was made. She must ship her orders by the end of January in order to meet her next contract deadline the first of February. So much was riding on her being able to make soap by the end of November. By the end of December, she had to have most of the soap made.
As she went inside, Julia hoped Martin was right.


The pressure was on. Martin knew Julia was worried. He could see it in her eyes. He’d heard the urgency in her voice and could feel the apprehension emanating from her like a living thing. If Hank was right and there was a big hole in the roof, it would need to be repaired before the autumn rains began, which was any day now. Depending on what needed to be done, it could suck up precious time he needed to build the shelves and countertops for her workroom.
It was Martin’s job to get it all done in time for her to open her shop. He felt the seriousness of the situation as though his own livelihood depended on it. His reputation was on the line. He’d been doing a lot of carpentry work for people in the community and wanted to increase his business as a side job for more income to build his barn and, one day, his new house. He also wanted to make Julia happy and ease her load in any way possible.
Working as fast as he could, he built the framework of the awning first. Standing on the rickety ladder, he affixed the lag bolts. Satisfied with his labors, he looked down at Hank, who had wandered over to peer through the store windows. No doubt he was looking for Julia.
“Hank!”
The boy jerked, looking guilty. Martin resisted the urge to smile.
“Hand me up those two-by-six boards,” he called.
Hank lifted a four-by-six board instead.
“Ne, that’s the wrong one. I need the two-by-six.” Martin forced himself to speak gently, although he felt impatient for his brother’s mistake. It was costing him precious time.
Hank laid a hand on the smaller boards and looked up at him with a questioning gaze.
“Ja, those are the right ones. That’s gut. Hand them up.”
Martin reached out a hand as Hank lifted the boards one by one so he could nail them into place. By the time he’d laid the furring strips over top of the frame, it was almost dinnertime. He’d accomplished a lot today but should soon start for home. Mamm would be expecting them. He would finish up tomorrow. The weather should hold for a couple more days so he could repair the roof. For now, it was time to leave.
“You’ve done a fine job today.”
He turned and saw Julia standing off to the side of the porch, looking up at him. Hank immediately raced over to stand beside her, gazing at her with adulation.
“I helped,” Hank said.
She blessed him with a smile so bright that Martin had to blink. “Of course you did.”
Hank beamed at her. “Do you like to sing?”
Martin stiffened, knowing what his brother was about to ask. “Not now, Hank.”
Hank threw a disgruntled glare at his older brother. “But I want to ask her—”
“It’s not the right time,” Martin said.
Julia hesitated, looking back and forth between the two. In a bit of confusion, she spoke to Martin as she inspected his work with a critical eye. “I didn’t expect you to get the porch finished today, but it looks almost complete.”
“Ja, it has come together well. I’ll put on the finishing touches and paint it first thing in the morning. I hope it is satisfactory,” he said.
“It’s more than satisfactory. It’s beautiful. If I didn’t know better, I would say it was never damaged. You’ve cleaned up every bit of mess, too. I can’t even tell you worked on it today.”
As her gaze scanned the porch and awning, he could see her searching for any imperfections. He climbed down and set the ladder aside for his use tomorrow.
“My daed taught me to tidy up after work,” he said.
She tilted her head. “Your dat?”
“Ja, my dad.”
“Oh, your father,” she said.
“Ja, my vadder.”
He’d swept up the sawdust and discarded nails and placed them in a large garbage can. Mamm told him that his fastidiousness was bothersome to some of the Amish girls, which was one reason they didn’t want to marry him. But instead of being irritated by his meticulous work, Julia seemed to approve. For some crazy reason, that delighted Martin like nothing else could.
She nodded with satisfaction. “I do like it very much. With a coat of paint, it’ll look perfect.”
While Julia watched, he packed his tools away in the toolbox. When he was finished, he faced her again. “We’d better get going. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes, see you tomorrow.” She waved and turned away, going back inside.
Martin climbed into the buggy with Hank and directed the horse toward the main road. He’d worked hard today, yet he didn’t feel tired. No, not at all. Instead, he felt rejuvenated and eager to do a good job for Julia Rose.
When he pulled into the graveled driveway at home, his father was just coming from the barn, carrying two buckets of frothy white milk. His mother, sisters and other brother had just finished feeding the chickens and pigs.
“Martin! Hank! You’re finally home.” His mother waved, a huge smile on her cheery face.
Emily, Susan and Timmy came running, surrounding him and Hank as they hopped up and down with excitement.
“Did you get the job?” thirteen-year-old Emily asked, her face alight with expectation.
“You must have got the job because you’ve been gone all day,” little eight-year-old Timmy reasoned.
Martin laughed as he swung seven-year-old Susan high into the air. The girl squealed with delight. Their greeting warmed his heart. How he loved them all. He thought about Julia having only her mother to come home to. It must be so lonely for her.
“Supper’s about ready. Komm inside and tell us about your day.” His father stepped up on the porch, his words silencing the children’s incessant questions. At the age of forty-nine, David was the patriarch of the home and still strong and muscular from working long hours of manual labor.
“I’ll just put the road horse in his stall and toss him some hay,” Martin said.
Linda, his mother, waved an impatient hand. As the matriarch of the familye, she was just as confident in her role as David was. “Ne, Timmy can do that. You and Hank komm inside now. I want to hear all about your day.”
“Ah, don’t say anything important while I’m gone,” Timmy called. But the boy obediently took hold of the horse’s halter and led him into the barn.
Once they were inside, they washed and sat down at the spacious table in the kitchen. Mamm had already laid out the plates and utensils. The room was warm and smelled of something good cooking on the stove. With six hungry children and a husband to feed, Linda always made plenty. Only Martin’s nineteen-year-old sister, Karen, was missing. She was newly married and lived back east with her husband.
“Ach, did you get the job?” His father sat down and looked at him expectantly.
“Ja, we got the job,” Hank answered for him. The boy beamed with eagerness and Martin didn’t have the heart to scold him for speaking out of turn. After all, the job was his, too.
Martin smiled with tolerance and purposefully waited until Timmy returned from the barn before speaking. Because they prayed before eating, they had to wait for the boy anyway.
Once everyone was assembled, David beckoned to his wife. “Mudder, komm and sit.”
David pointed at her chair and Martin watched as his mother sat at the opposite end of the table, nearest the stove. As each member of the familye bowed their head to bless the food, he couldn’t help loving this nightly ritual. His mom was always up and buzzing around the table to see to everyone’s needs. But during evening prayer, she sat reverently with her familye for these few minutes while they gave thanks to the Lord.
When they were finished, everyone dug in and she hopped up to pull a pan of fresh-baked cornbread from the oven.
“Hank and I will be doing handyman work.” Martin speared two pork chops and laid them on his plate. The clatter of utensils and eating filled the room, but no one spoke as they waited to hear every word he said.
“What kind of handyman work?” David asked as he spread golden butter across a hot piece of cornbread.
Martin sliced off a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. He chewed for several moments before swallowing, then explained his tasks and asked his father’s advice on how to assemble the cabinets in Julia’s workroom. The conversation bounced around various topics but kept coming back to his new job.
“Julia’s nice, too. She’s real schee.” Hank spoke with his mouth full of cooked carrots.
David’s bushy eyebrows shot up and he looked at Martin. “Julia?”
“Ja, Julia Rose. She’s my new boss,” Martin said. “She lives with her mudder in that old building Walter Rose owned. Apparently, Julia was his granddaughter. It seems that old Walt died a couple months back and left the place to her. She’s renovating it so she can sell handmade soap.”
“Soap?” David said the word abruptly, like it didn’t make sense.
Martin shrugged and took a long drink of fresh milk. “Ja, she sells it to stores across the nation.”
“Humph, I guess the Englisch don’t make their own so they have to buy it somewhere,” David said. “But I thought you’d be working for a man. How old is this Julia?”
Martin took a deep breath, trying to answer truthfully while not alarming his father. After all, it wasn’t seemly that an unmarried Amish man should be working for a young, attractive Englisch woman. “She’s twenty-three but she stays in the house most of the time while Hank and I work outside. The job is only for six or seven weeks, so it’ll be over with soon enough.”
His father’s gaze narrowed and rested on him like a ten-ton sledge. Martin felt as though the man were looking deep inside of him for the truth. Linda also paused in front of the counter where she was slicing big wedges of cherry pie. She didn’t say anything, waiting for her husband’s verdict on this turn of events, but Martin could tell from her expression that she was worried.
“Ach, I guess you’ve got Hank with you all the time, so you’re not alone with this woman,” David finally said. “And once it’s done, you’ll have enough money to build your barn in the spring. But don’t forget who you are and what Gott expects from you, sohn. Always remember your faith.”
“I will,” Martin assured him.
“But she’s Englisch. Are you sure this is wise?” Linda asked, her brow furrowed in a deep frown.
“Mamm, don’t worry,” Martin reassured her with a short laugh. “I’m a grown man and know how to handle myself. Besides, it’s only for a short time. It isn’t as if I’m going to fall in love and leave our faith or something crazy like that, so rest your fears.”
“And besides, Julia’s gonna be my maedel, not Mar-tin’s,” Hank said.
David and Linda shared a look of concern, to which Martin quickly explained the boy’s desire for Julia to be his girl. “I’ve already told Hank that Julia isn’t Amish and she’s too old for him anyway.”
Without missing a beat, Martin’s sister Emily handed him a bowl of boiled potatoes. Martin forked several onto his plate. The whole familye knew the drill, having discussed issues like this a zillion times before.
“Why does it matter if Julia isn’t Amish?” Hank asked with a frown.
Linda shook her head and shooed Hank’s question away with her hand. “She’s not of our faith. She’s not one of us.” Handing plates of pie to Emily to pass around the table, she leaned against the counter and faced Martin again. “So, tell us something about this woman boss of yours.”
Taking a bite of buttered potato, Martin kept his voice slow and even, trying not to say anything that might overly alarm his mother. “She and her mudder live a simple life like us. They don’t wear makeup or fancy clothes. Nor do they own a car or use electricity. Julia has even asked me a couple of questions about our faith. And she’s devoted to her mudder, who is sickly.”
Linda winced with sympathy. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She has lupus. Julia’s father recently died of cancer. Julia’s been earning a living for them and taking care of her parents. From what I can see, she’s a gut, hardworking woman.”
“But she’s not Amish,” David said, his bushy eyebrows raised in a stern look that allowed for no more discussion on the matter.
Linda stepped near and rested a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Ach, you’ll be careful not to be drawn in by her, won’t you, sohn? I couldn’t bear to lose you. You’ll remember what your vadder and I have taught you and stay true to your faith.”
He met his mother’s eyes, his convictions filling his heart. He could never stand to hurt her by chasing after an Englisch woman. “You don’t need to worry about me, Mamm. I will only marry someone of our faith. This I vow.”
“Gut. It’s too bad you can’t convert Julia to our faith.” Linda showed a smile of relief and finally sat down to eat her own supper. The conversation turned to what the younger children were learning in school.
Martin ate his meal, listening to the chatter around him. He’d done his best to alleviate his parents’ concerns but knew they were worried. And he agreed that it was too bad Julia wasn’t Amish. If she were, his parents would have no reservations about him working with her.
As he carried his dishes over to the sink for washing, he listened to Hank’s incessant chatter and a feeling of expectancy built within his chest. He couldn’t wait to return to work in the morning and be near Julia again. And though he refused to consider the options, he knew deep inside that it had little to do with the money he would earn and more to do with his pretty employer.
But he meant what he’d said. He would marry an Amish woman or not at all.

Chapter Three (#udd596fa7-5df2-56cd-9b87-7ae93c043918)
The following morning, Julia glanced at the clock she’d hung on the wall in her spacious workroom. She blinked, hardly able to believe it was barely five o’clock. She’d been up for two hours already. Like many mornings, she couldn’t sleep, so she’d started work early.
After she completed several tasks, faint sunlight filtered through the dingy windows, highlighting the bare wooden floors with streamers of dust. She really must wash the windows today, before she painted the walls. That should brighten things up quite a bit. With the delays from yesterday, she feared Martin might not have time for everything needing to be done. Careful not to let Mom work too hard, Julia had helped her clear most of the boxes and junk out of the room, stacking them in the backyard. Above all, her priority was to get the soap room operational. But a hole in the roof could create worse problems down the road.
Squinting her eyes, she worked by kerosene light. She’d acquired an old stainless steel sink from the discount store in town and wanted it ready once Martin built the cabinets she required. Using a mild cleanser, she scrubbed at a particularly grimy spot. The sink’s two spacious tubs would accommodate the big pots she used for soap making.
Martin would be here in a few hours to finish the porch. Then he’d check the condition of the roof. After that, she wanted him to—
Tap-tap-tap.
She looked up, thinking the sound came from above. Had Mom awakened early and was doing something inside their apartment? She caught the deep timbre of a man’s voice coming from outside but wasn’t sure. It came again, followed by Hank’s unique accent. She glanced at the wall clock and discovered it was almost eight. Ah, her handymen were already here and the sun was barely up.
“Be careful with that paint, Hank. You don’t want to spill any.” Martin’s muffled voice reached her ears.
Sitting back, Julia set aside the soft sponge. In her warm slippers, she padded over to the window and peered out.
Martin and Hank stood side by side in front of the porch as they perused their handiwork. Each of them held a brush that gleamed with white paint. Martin also clutched the handle of a paint bucket. No doubt they’d been trimming the porch and front of the building. A feeling of elation swept over Julia. She couldn’t wait for it all to be finished.
Martin had rolled the long sleeves of his shirt up his muscular arms. A smear of white paint marred his angular chin. Hank also wore several smatters of paint on his forearms and clothes. In the early morning sunlight, Julia caught the gleam of bright trim on the post nearest to the window but couldn’t see the rest of the porch from this angle. And all that work had been done while she was cleaning the new sink.
Hmm. Dallin had never worked this hard. He’d rather laze around and borrow money from Julia, which he never paid back. Maybe it was a blessing she hadn’t married him after all.
Walking over to the front door, she flipped the dead bolt, turned the knob and stepped out onto the porch. In that short amount of time, Martin had climbed to the top of the rickety ladder leading up to the roof. Hank held the ladder steady from below. Busy with their labors, they hadn’t noticed her yet. She watched as Martin dipped his brush into a bucket of paint he’d set on the pail shelf, then touched up a spot high on the side of the awning. As he concentrated on his work, he pressed the tip of his tongue against his upper lip.
The ladder trembled.
“Hold it steady, Hank. Just a few more spots and we’ll be finished. Then we can start on the roof.” Martin spoke without looking down.
Fearing she might break his concentration, Julia didn’t say anything. A tabby cat crossing the road caught Hank’s attention. Julia knew the animal was named Tigger and belonged to Essie Walkins, the elderly widow who lived two houses down. Tail high in the air, the feline picked its way across the abandoned street. No doubt it was hoping to cajole Julia out of a bowl of milk. She’d fed the cat many times, much to her mother’s chagrin. Sharon didn’t like strays.
Seeing the feline, Hank abandoned his post and hurried toward Tigger. Without the boy’s weight to hold the ladder steady, it shuddered uncontrollably.
Julia gasped as Martin grabbed on to the gutter to keep from falling. She rushed over and gripped the sides of the ladder, staring up at him with widened eyes. The ladder stabilized but too late. The bucket of paint plummeted to the ground with a heavy thud. Julia scrunched her shoulders, hoping she wouldn’t get hit in the head by the falling object. Spatters of white struck the outer wall of the building, the mass of paint pooling in the middle of the wooden porch.
“Oh, no!” Julia breathed in exasperation.
Martin stared down at her with absolute shock. Likewise, Julia was so stunned that she was held immobile for several seconds. Then, Martin hurried down the ladder, his angular face torn by an expression of dread.
“Ach, Julia! Are you all right? The bucket didn’t hit you, did it?” He rested a gentle hand on her arm, his dark eyes filled with concern as he searched her expression.
She shook her head. “No, it missed me. I’m fine.”
Satisfied she was okay, Martin stepped away. She could still feel the warmth of his strong fingers tingling against her skin. As he perused the mess, his lips tightened. Then, his gaze sought out his recalcitrant brother.
Hank stood in the middle of the vacant street, clutching the tabby cat close against his chest as he stroked the animal’s furry head. Tigger looked completely content as the boy walked over to them, smiling wide with satisfaction.
“Ach, look at this bussli. Isn’t she beautiful? I saved her from being hit by a car,” the boy crowed, his eyes sparkling.
“Him,” Julia corrected. “The cat’s name is Tigger and he’s a boy.”
Hank’s expression lit up with sheer pleasure. “Ach, Tigger. What a fine name.”
“Hank, there are no cars coming at this time of the morning. You were supposed to be holding the ladder for me, not chasing after die katz.” Martin’s voice held a note of reproach but was otherwise calm. He wore a slight frown, doing an admirable job of controlling his temper. In that moment, Julia respected Martin even more.
“I know, but I saw Tigger and didn’t want him to get hit by a kaer,” Hank said.
Julia glanced at the empty street. Since it was so early, there wasn’t a single car, truck or person in sight. But being an agricultural community, Julia knew that would soon change as farmers came into town early to transact their business. Since Tigger freely roamed the streets at all hours of the day, she wasn’t too worried he’d be struck by a car.
“You know how fast motor vehicles go,” Hank continued. “Remember what happened to Jeremiah Beiler last year when an Englischer’s car hit his buggy-wagon and broke his leg? It nearly kilt him and his dechder.”
“Killed, not kilt,” Martin corrected the boy.
“His deck-der?” Julia asked, confused by some of their foreign words.
“Daughters,” Martin supplied. “They were riding with him in the buggy when the car struck them from behind.”
“Oh,” Julia said.
“Ach, I couldn’t let this sweet kitty get hurt.” Hank nuzzled Tigger’s warm fur, completely oblivious that his efforts to protect the cat had endangered his brother’s life and created a big mess that would now have to be cleaned up.
Meeting Martin’s frustrated expression, Julia showed an understanding smile. “It’s okay. No harm was done. We’ll just tidy it up.”
Martin rested his hands on his lean hips and gazed at the splattered paint with resignation. He certainly wasn’t a man who angered easily. That was another difference between him and Dallin. Julia’s ex-fiancé had raised his voice at her numerous times while kicking things and slamming doors. She hadn’t liked it one bit. In retrospect, she was so grateful he was out of her life. But who would she marry now? Would there ever be a kind, hardworking man for her to love? She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to trust another man.
“How exactly do we clean up the paint?” she asked, wondering if a thinner from the hardware store might remove the white stain from the wood.
“You don’t need to do a thing. I’ll get this straightened out as fast as I can and reimburse you for the waste,” Martin promised.
Again, she was impressed by his integrity. “There’s no need for reimbursement. The porch is all but finished and it doesn’t look like we lost much paint. In fact, everything looks great, except for the spill. Let me help you clean it up.” She reached for a bucket of rags sitting near the front door, grateful when Martin didn’t refuse her aid.
While Hank snuggled the cat, they shoveled the drying pool of paint into a heavy-duty plastic bag and set it in the waste bin to be disposed of later. Julia held the dustpan for Martin, wondering how they would get the streaks of white off the wooden porch. Since Martin was so good at his job, she decided to let him handle the problem.
“You’re up early,” Martin spoke as they worked.
Julia smiled. “I was thinking the same about you. There’s no need for you and Hank to come to work so early.”
He shrugged. “We’re always up early. I usually milk the cows and feed the horses before the sun rises. I had my chores at home finished and decided to get an early start here. I’m determined to repair your roof by the end of the day, although I didn’t expect this added chore.”
He chuckled and Julia stared. She thought the Amish were a very stern, serious people. She had no idea they laughed and was glad he found the situation amusing. After all, her mother had taught her there was no use crying over spilled milk. It was better to just clean it up and move on. It seemed that Martin was of the same inclination.
She laughed, too, suddenly so grateful he was here. Since her broken engagement and her father’s death, she’d felt so alone in the world. It was nice to have someone capable to depend on.
“Well, accidents are bound to happen now and then,” she said.
“You’re very understanding.”
He stood to his full height and she gazed up into his eyes. With the early morning sunlight gleaming at his back, it highlighted his red hair and seemed to accent the shadows of his handsome face. She was caught there, mesmerized for several moments. Then, she mentally shook herself. After all, Martin was Amish and she wasn’t. They could never be more than friends. It was that simple.
“How will we clean the wood siding?” she asked, forcing herself to look away.
“I believe I have some sand paper in my toolbox. If I’m careful, I can take off just the bare layer of paint without damaging the wood and no one will know it was ever there.” He indicated the box sitting nearby.
Opening the lid, he pulled out a sheet of gritty paper and a hand sander. While Julia swept up the dust, he sanded the porch just enough to get the paint off. The work delayed them by an hour but Martin didn’t say a word when it came time to climb up and check the roof.
“Martin, I’m grateful for your dedication, but I’d like to suspend your next task for thirty minutes, please,” Julia said.
Poised at the bottom of the ladder, his forehead furrowed in a quizzical frown. “What do you need me to do?”
She smiled, resting a hand on the side of the ladder so near to his own. “I think it’s time we retire this rickety old thing. Would you mind going to the supply store and purchasing a good, solid ladder that will ensure our safety?”
A low chuckle rumbled inside his chest and she stared, mesmerized by the sound.
“Ja, I’d be happy to do that. I’ll go and hurry right back,” he said. “Come on, Hank.”
He stepped away from the porch, tugging on Hank’s arm to get the boy to follow him.
“But I want to stay here with Tigger.” The boy stuck out his chin, refusing to release his hold on the cat.
“If it would make things easier for you, Hank can wait here with me. He can help me fix breakfast,” Julia offered. Surely Hank wouldn’t get into as much trouble if he remained behind, and Martin would be quicker with his errand, too.
“We have already eaten at home. Our mamm fixed us a big breakfast before we left,” Martin said.
“Then perhaps Hank can help me finish cleaning out the workroom. I’m going to paint the walls today,” she said.
Martin hesitated, a doubtful expression on his face. “You’re certain you don’t mind watching him while I’m gone? He can be a bit of a handful at times.”
She waved Martin on. “Of course. We’ll see you in a while.”
Turning toward Hank, she indicated that the boy should follow her. “Come on, Hank. Let’s go upstairs and see if we can get a bowl of milk for Tigger.”
“Ja, I’m sure he’s hungry,” Hank said.
Smiling happily, the teenager followed her inside, carrying Tigger with him. Julia didn’t look back to see if Martin was still watching her, but she didn’t have to. She could feel his gaze resting on her like a leaden weight. And as she led Hank upstairs, she wasn’t sure why her chest felt all warm and buoyant inside.


Martin was gone a total of twenty minutes. Driving his horse and buggy, he pulled up in front of the supply store and whipped inside to peruse the selection of ladders. After choosing one that was sturdy but not too costly, he asked Byron Stott to put it on Julia’s account, then hurried back to Rose Soapworks.
He didn’t disturb Julia to find out where Hank was. Hoping to get some work done, he set the new ladder against the side of the house and scrambled up to the rooftop with his tool belt strapped around his waist. Bracing himself so he wouldn’t fall, he sat against the chimney and analyzed the problem. Sure enough, there was a hole in the roof. Not too bad. The tar paper and shingles had blown off and the wood beneath was starting to rot away. Martin knew he could fix it with little effort. And while he was up here, he’d replace the missing shingles in other areas before they became a bigger problem, too. When he was through, Julia’s roof would be ready to face winter.
Using the claw of his hammer, he pried up the decayed fragments and tossed them over the side of the house where they fell harmlessly to the ground below. Wouldn’t Julia be surprised when he finished the project by midday? Then he could build the shelves in her workroom.
“Martin?”
He jerked, startled from his task. Julia stood at the top of the ladder, holding on to the edge of the roof. Her eyes were wide and anxious, her face drawn with worry.
Something was wrong.
“You shouldn’t be up here. You might fall,” he said, wondering why he cared so much.
She blinked. “I… I need to speak with you on an urgent matter. It’s about Hank. Could you come down, please?”

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