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The Secret Sister

With nowhere to turn, penniless widow Grace Yoder travels with her young son to the Amish community of Seven Poplars. She hopes to reunite with the Plain father she never knew—and become part of the community. Though her father is deceased, his new family still welcomes her. Grace is overcome with gratitude. But when handsome family friend and Mennonite John Hartman offers her a job in his veterinarian office, Grace discovers a beautiful bridge between the two worlds. And prays John will ask her to stay by his side.

“Grace, this is our friend John Hartman.”

She waved toward a brown-haired man in a blue chambray shirt and jeans sitting at the head of the table.

Grace nodded. He didn’t look Amish to her. His hair was cropped short, almost in a military cut, and he had no beard. Definitely not a cowboy type, but nice-looking in an old-fashioned, country way.

John rose to his feet, nodded and smiled at her. “Pleased to meet you, Grace. I stopped by to check on one of the ewes that got caught in a fence.”

Grace wanted to ask if he was a farmer since it sounded as though he knew something about animals. She liked animals, especially dogs, and she’d always felt more at ease around them than people. But she didn’t want to complicate a sticky situation with Hannah and her family, so she thought that the less she said to a strange man, the better.

For now, anyway.

About the Author

EMMA MILLER lives quietly in her old farmhouse in rural Delaware amid fertile fields and lush woodlands. Fortunate enough to be born into a family of strong faith, she grew up on a dairy farm, surrounded by loving parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Emma was educated in local schools, and once taught in an Amish schoolhouse much like the one at Seven Poplars. When she’s not caring for her large family, reading and writing are her favorite pastimes.

Redeeming Grace

Emma Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

But by the Grace of God, I am what I am.

—1 Corinthians 15:10

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Teaser Chapter

Chapter One

Kent County, Delaware...October

The storm beat against the windows of the house and rattled the glass panes. Since the early hours of morning, the nor’easter had hovered over the state, bringing high gusts of wind that ripped loose shingles on the outbuildings, sent leaves and branches whirling from the big shade trees and dumped torrents of rain over the Yoder farm. It was almost 10:00 p.m., nearly an hour past Hannah’s usual bedtime, but she’d lingered in the kitchen, reading from her Bible and listening to Aunt Jezzy sing old German hymns while she knitted by lamplight.

Neither Irwin, Hannah’s foster son, nor her two youngest daughters, Susanna and Rebecca, had retired for the night. The young people seemed content to remain in the kitchen, warm and snug, sipping hot cocoa, eating buttered popcorn and playing Dutch Blitz.

Today had been a visiting Sunday, rather than a day of worship, and so it had been a relaxing day. Usually, on visiting Sundays, Hannah’s household would have company over or share the midday meal with one of her married daughters or friends. But the nor’easter had kept everyone home. Simply getting to the barn and chicken house to care for the livestock and poultry had been a struggle.

Footsteps in the hall signaled Johanna’s return to the kitchen. Hannah’s oldest daughter had taken her two children up to bed earlier and stayed with them, reading aloud and hearing their evening prayers, until they dropped off to sleep. Katie, two, had adjusted easily to the move to her grandmother’s house, but Jonah, now five, was still difficult to get in bed, and once there, he was prone to nightmares. Since Johanna and the children had returned to live with Hannah, almost a year and a half ago, the boy often woke the entire house in the middle of the night screaming, and nothing would satisfy him but his mother’s arms around him.

“Did you get them down all right?” Hannah asked as Johanna appeared. Hannah thought her daughter looked tired tonight. The strain of her husband’s illness and suicide and the need to return to her mother’s home had been hard on her; now she was learning the struggles of being a single mother. Even with the support of her family and friends, it was a difficult time in Johanna’s life. Hannah knew that Johanna worried about her son, and prayed that God would ease Johanna’s mind.

“Katie was fine, but there’s a loose shutter on the bedroom window, and Jonah was afraid that a monster was trying to get in.”

Hannah glanced at Irwin suspiciously. Even though he was almost fifteen, he still behaved young for his age, probably as a result of his parents’ death and his being shuffled around. “Have you been telling him stories about trolls again?”

Irwin’s face reddened and he feigned innocence. “Trolls? Me?”

“Under the corncrib,” Susanna supplied, looking up from her cards. She nodded firmly. “Ya. You said there was trolls with scabby knees, fleas in their ears and buck teeth.”

“Did not,” Irwin protested. “Moles. I might have said there was moles under the corncrib.”

“Were moles,” Hannah corrected.

Johanna frowned. “Find someone your own age to tease.”

“But I didn’t,” Irwin insisted, hunching his shoulders. “Must have been one of Samuel’s twins who told Jonah that.”

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow. With Jonah,” Hannah said, marking her place in John with a red ribbon. She closed the big Bible. “Past time you were in bed, anyway. You’ll have to leave early to get to school in time to start a fire in the woodstove. After all this rain, the schoolhouse will be damp.”

“Maybe the storm will get worse,” Irwin suggested. “Maybe there will be so much rain the school will wash away.”

“I doubt that,” Johanna said. “It’s built on high ground, with a brick foundation.”

Reluctantly, Irwin stood up, unfolding his long, gangly legs. He’d grown so much in the past three months that the trousers Hannah had sewn for him in June were already high waters, short even for an Amish teenager. She’d have to see about new clothes for him. Irwin was shooting up faster than a jimson weed.

She’d never regretted taking him in after his parents died in that terrible fire, but an Amish teacher’s salary went only so far. Like everyone else, she had to watch her pennies, especially now that Johanna and the children had come back home to live. Not that Johanna was a burden; she contributed as much as she could. She had her sheep, her turkeys and her quilting, as well as the sale of honey from her beehives.

Johanna picked up the empty popcorn bowl and Irwin’s mug. “I think I’ll turn in now, Mam. I have to finish that quilt for that English lady tomorrow.”

“You think you can?” Aunt Jezzy asked. “If it’s still raining, Jonah will be stuck inside again all day, and—”

“I know,” Johanna agreed. “He has so much energy, he’ll be a handful.”

“I can take him with me to Anna’s,” Rebecca offered. “He can play with Mae. The two of them are less trouble when they’re together.”

“Would you?” Johanna said. “That would be so much help. Katie follows Susanna around like a little shadow, and if you take Jonah for the day, I know I can finish those last few squares and press the quilt in no time. The lady’s coming for it Tuesday afternoon.”

Irwin went to the kitchen door. “Come on, Jeremiah,” he called to his terrier. “Last chance to go out tonight. You, too, Flora.” The sheepdog rose off her bed near the pantry and slowly padded after Jeremiah.

Abruptly, a blast of wind caught the screen door and nearly yanked it from Irwin’s grasp. He grabbed it with both hands, stepped out onto the porch and then immediately retreated back into the kitchen, tracking rain on the clean floor. Irwin’s mouth gaped and he pointed. “There’s somethin’...somebody...Hannah! Come quick!”

Jeremiah’s hackles went up, and both dogs began to bark from the doorway.

“What’s wrong with you, boy?” Johanna said. “Don’t leave the door open. You’re believing your own tall tales. Who would be out there on a night like this?”

Hannah tightened her head scarf and hurried to the door as Susanna, now on her feet, let out a gasp and ducked behind Rebecca.

“I don’t see—” Hannah began, and then she stopped short. “There is someone.” She stepped through the open doorway onto the porch.

Standing out on the porch steps was a woman. Hannah sheltered her eyes from the driving rain and raised her voice to be heard above the storm. “Can I help you?” she called, shivering. She couldn’t see any vehicles in the yard, but it was so dark that she couldn’t be sure there wasn’t one.

“Who is it, Mam?” Johanna came out on the porch behind her.

“An English woman,” Hannah said. She motioned to the stranger. “Don’t stand there. Come in.”

Johanna put a restraining hand on her arm. “Do you think it’s safe?” she asked in German. Then, in English, she said, “Are you alone?”

The girl shook her head. “I...I have my son with me.” She turned her head and looked behind her.

Standing on the lower step was one very small, very wet child. Instantly, Hannah’s caution receded, and all she could think of was getting the two of them out of the rain, dried off and warmed up. “Come in this moment, both of you,” she said. She stood aside, grasping the door, and motioned the English people into the house. Seconds later, they were all standing in the middle of the kitchen, dripping streams of water off their clothing and faces. The young woman was carrying an old guitar case and a stained duffel bag.

For a long moment, there was silence as the Amish and the English strangers stared at each other amid the still-barking dogs. “Hush,” Hannah ordered. Flora immediately obeyed, but Jeremiah circled behind Irwin and kept yipping. Hannah clapped her hands. “I said, be still.”

This time, the terrier gave a whine and retreated under the table where he continued to utter small growls. And then Susanna broke the awkwardness by grabbing a big towel off the clothesline over the woodstove and wrapping it around the small boy.

“He’s wet,” Susanna said. “And cold. His teeth are chattering.”

“Ya, I’m afraid he is cold,” Hannah agreed. “Please,” she said to the young woman. “You’re drenched. Get out of that sweater.”

The stranger, her face as pale as skim milk, set down her things and stripped off a torn gray sweater. In the lamplight, Hannah could see that she wasn’t as young as she had first thought. Mid-to-late twenties probably. Her cheeks were hollow and dark shadows smudged the area beneath her tired blue eyes. She was small and thin, the crown of her head barely coming to Johanna’s shoulder. But her face in no way prepared them for the very odd way she was dressed.

The woman wore a navy blue polyester skirt that came down to the tops of her muddy sneakers, a white, long-sleeve blouse, a flowered blue-and-red apron and a man’s white handkerchief tied like a head scarf over her thin red braids. The buttons had been cut off her shirt, and the garment was pinned together with what appeared to be safety pins, fastened on the inside.

No wonder Irwin and Hannah’s girls were gaping at the Englisher. For an instant, Hannah wondered if this was some sort of joke, but ne, she decided, this poor woman wasn’t trying to poke fun at the Amish. Maybe she was what the English called a hippie. Whatever she was, Hannah felt sorry for her. The expression in her eyes was both frightened and confused, but more than that, she appeared to expect Hannah to be angry with her—perhaps even throw the two of them back out into the storm.

“I’m Hannah Yoder,” she said in her best schoolteacher voice. “Did your car break down?”

The Englisher shook her head and lifted the child into her arms. “I...I hitched a ride with a milk truck driver. But he let me off at the corner. We walked from there.”

“Where were you going?” Johanna asked. “The two of you rode in a milk truck? With someone you didn’t know?”

The Englisher nodded. “You can pretty much tell if somebody is scary or not by looking at their eyes.”

Johanna met Hannah’s questioning gaze. It was clear to Hannah that for once, even wise, sensible Johanna was dumbstruck.

“I’m Hannah,” she repeated. “And these are my daughters Johanna—” she indicated each one in turn “—Susanna and Rebecca. This is Irwin.” She turned back toward the rocker by the window. “And Aunt Jezzy.”

The stranger nodded. “I’m Grace...and this is my boy, Dakota.”

“Da-kota?” Susanna wrinkled her nose. “That’s a funny name.”

The young woman shrugged, holding tightly to the child’s hand. “I thought it was pretty. He was a pretty baby. I wanted him to have a pretty name.”

She had an unfamiliar accent, not one Hannah was familiar with. She spoke English well enough. Hannah didn’t think the stranger was born in another country, just another part of America, maybe Kansas or farther west.

“Oh, you must be as cold as the child,” Hannah said. “Rebecca, fetch a blanket for our guest.”

Grace held out a hand to the warmth of the woodstove. Hannah noticed that her nails were bitten to the quick and none too clean.

“Are you Plain?” Hannah asked in an attempt to solve the mystery of the unusual clothes.

The woman blinked in confusion.

“You’re not Amish,” Hannah said.

“Maybe she’s Mennonite,” Aunt Jezzy suggested. “She might be one of those Ohio Old Order Mennonites or Shakers. Are you a Shaker?”

“I’m sorry...about the apron.” Grace brushed at it. “It was the only one I could find. I looked in Goodwill and Salvation Army. You don’t find many aprons and the only other one I saw had something...something not nice written on it.”

Hannah struggled to hide her amusement. The apron was awful. It had seen better days and was as soaked as the rest of her clothes, but the red roosters and the watermelons printed on it were definitely not like any Mennonite clothing Hannah had ever seen.

“Would you like some clothes for your little boy?” Johanna offered. “We could dry his trousers and shirt over the stove.”

Grace pressed her lips together and nodded. “That’s nice of you.”

“And something hot to drink for you?” Johanna suggested. “Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please, if you don’t mind,” Grace answered. “I like it with sugar and milk, if you have milk.”

“We have milk.” Susanna smiled broadly.

“Maybe Dakota would like some hot milk or cocoa,” Hannah said, noticing the way the boy was staring at a plate of oatmeal cookies on the counter. “He’s welcome to have a cookie with it, if you don’t mind.”

“He’d like that,” Grace stammered, shifting him from one slender hip to the other. “The cocoa and a cookie. We missed dinner...being on the road and all.”

Hannah thought to herself that Grace had missed more than one dinner. The girl was practically a bag of bones. “Let us find you both some dry things,” Hannah offered. “I’ve got a big pot of chicken vegetable soup on the back of the stove. That might help both of you warm up.” She smiled. “But I’m afraid you’re stuck here until morning. We don’t have a phone, and it’s too nasty a night to hitch the horses to the buggy. In the morning, we’ll help you continue on your way.”

“You’d do that? For me?” Grace asked. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Her eyes were welling up with tears. “You don’t know me. That’s so good of you. I didn’t think... People told me the Amish didn’t like outsiders.”

“Ya,” Hannah agreed. “People say a lot about us. Most of it’s not true.” Then she looked at the stranger more closely. What was there about this skinny girl that looked vaguely familiar? Something... Something... “What did you say your last name was?” she asked.

Grace shook her head. “I didn’t.”

Hannah had the oddest feeling that she knew what the stranger was going to say before she said it.

“It’s Yoder.” The young woman looked up at her with familiar blue eyes. “Same as you. I’m Grace Yoder.”

Chapter Two

“I’m Grace Yoder,” Grace repeated, gazing around the room expectantly. “And I’ve come a long way...from Nebraska.” Standing here in this fairytale kitchen, her clothes dripping on the beautiful wood floor, all these strangers staring at her, Grace was so nervous that she could hardly get the words out. “We went to Pennsylvania where he grew up, but people said he moved here. I hope this is the right house. We’re looking for Jonas Yoder.” She paused for a long moment. “Please tell him his daughter and grandson are here to see him.”

“Was in der welt?” the older woman in the rocking chair, Aunt Jezebel, exclaimed. “Lecherich!”

“Ne,” the oldest sister said to Grace. Her expression hardened. “You’ve made a mistake. Jonas Yoder isn’t your father. He’s ours.”

The younger girl, Rebecca, looked at her mother. She was holding a blanket she’d just fetched. “Tell her, Mam! Tell her that she’s wrong! It’s a different Jonas Yoder she’s looking for. She can’t be...” She took the hand of her younger sister, the one who looked as if she had Down syndrome, and squeezed it tightly.

“Absatz,” Hannah said. “Stop it, all of you.” She moved closer to Grace and touched her chin with two fingertips, tilting her face up to the light. She looked into her eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice was kind. “What is your mother’s name?”

“Trudie,” Grace answered. “Trudie Schrock. She was Trudie from Belleville, Pennsylvania, and she was born one of you— Amish.”

“Trudie Schrock?” the older woman said loudly from her chair. “I know that name. Trudie’s aunt was a friend of Lavina. Trudie was the third daughter in the family, tenth or eleventh child. The Schrocks had a lot of children.”

“And her name was Trudie? You’re sure of it, Aunt Jezzy?” Johanna—the one with the attitude—asked.

“Ya. For sure, Johanna. That Trudie’s the only one who didn’t join the church. It hurt her family haremlich...terrible bad. Her father was a preacher, which made things worse. But there was never any talk of the girl being in the family way. Trudie left home and they never heard from her again. Must be some other Jonas this girl’s looking for.”

Grace didn’t know what to say, but she knew she’d come to the right house.

Hannah shook her head. “Ne, Aunt Jezzy. Jonas told me, before we married that...he and Trudie Schrock...that I wasn’t his first serious girlfriend.”

“But not...” Johanna twisted her fingers in the hem of her apron looking from her mother to Grace and back to her mother again. “Dat would never... To make a baby with a girl not his wife. He couldn’t have...”

“Hush,” Hannah said. “Don’t be a child.” She waved toward the table. “Come and sit, Grace. Was your mother certain? That Jonas...” She sighed, was quiet for a moment, and then went on. “I should have seen it the moment you walked into my kitchen. You have my Jonas’s red hair...his blue eyes. And you have the look of your sisters.”

Grace swallowed, feeling a little dizzy. This was even harder than she thought it would be. She felt as if she was going to cry and she had no idea why. Her gaze moved from person to person. “I have sisters?”

Hannah nodded. “I’m Jonas’s wife, and that makes my daughters—our daughters—your sisters.” She waved toward the stunned girls. “These three are your sisters, and there are four more. Ruth, Anna, Miriam and Leah. Leah is in Brazil with her husband, but the other girls live close by.”

Grace’s knees felt weak. Her stomach felt as if a powerful hand was tightening around it, but at the same time, the feeling of relief was so intense that she thought she might lift off the floor and float to the ceiling. This good woman, this Hannah believed her! They didn’t think she was a con artist. Giddy and light-headed, she took the chair that Hannah offered. “Could you tell him I’m here?” she asked again in a breathless voice. “My father?”

“Did your mother send you to find him?” Hannah asked, a little bit like the way the police asked questions. Grace had never been questioned by the police, but her Joe had. Many times.

Grace shook her head. “She died when I was eleven. She never told me anything about her past. A friend of hers, Marg, told me what little bit I know. She and my mother danced...worked together in Reno. Trudie and me moved around a lot, but she and Marg shared a trailer once when I was little.”

“Your mother?” Hannah asked. “You called her Trudie?” Lines of disapproval crinkled at the corners of her brown eyes.

Grace nodded. “Trudie was nineteen when I was born, but she looked younger. She never wanted me to call her Mom. She said we were girlfriends, more like sisters. I think it was so guys—other people—wouldn’t guess her real age. She was pretty, not like me. She had the most beautiful blond hair and a good figure.”

“Verhuddelt.” The older woman muttered as she retrieved the ball of yarn that had fallen out of her lap and rolled across the floor. “Such a mother.”

“No,” Grace protested. “She took good care of me. I never went hungry or anything.” Well, not really hungry, she thought. Memories of sour milk and stale pizza washed over her, and she banished them to the dark corners in her mind. Trudie had always done her best, and she hadn’t run out on her like some other moms. Grace had heard lots of horror stories from the kids she’d met in the Nevada foster homes where the state had stashed her after her mother died. Raising a child alone was hard—Grace had learned that lesson well enough. She wasn’t going to let anybody bad-mouth Trudie.

“She did the best she could,” Grace said. “She was smart, too, even if she didn’t have much education. She could speak German,” she added. “When she was mad, she always used to...” She trailed off, remembering that the angry shouts had probably not been nice words.

“I’m sorry that your mother passed.” Hannah sat down and reached out to Dakota. “Here, let me hold him. Rebecca, could you get that cocoa? And hand that blanket to Grace.”

The sister named Susanna offered a big cookie.

Dakota shyly accepted it, but bit off a big bite.

“Remember your manners,” Grace chided, accepting the blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders. She was so cold, she was shivering. “Don’t gobble like a turkey. You’ll choke.”

Susanna giggled. “Like a turkey,” she repeated.

Dakota nestled down in Hannah’s lap, almost as if he knew her. His eyelids were heavy. Grace was surprised he’d been able to stay awake so late.

Hannah ran her fingers through Dakota’s thick dark hair. “How old is he?”

“Three. He was three in January.”

“His father?”

“Dead.”

“He’s little for three,” Aunt Jezzy observed.

“But he’s strong. He was always a good baby, and he’s hardly ever sick. His father wasn’t a big man.” Grace looked into Hannah’s eyes and tried to keep from trembling. “Could you tell Jonas I’m here? Please. I’ve come a long way to find him.”

“How did you get all the way from Nebraska to Pennsylvania? Do you have a car?” Hannah asked.

Grace sighed. Her father’s wife was stalling, but she didn’t want to be rude. After all, Hannah had let her into the house and hadn’t kicked her out when Grace told her who she was. “We had a car, but the transmission went out on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. It wasn’t worth fixing, so we left it.” She looked down at the floor. No use in telling them that the insurance had run out two weeks ago and that she had barely enough money for food and gas to get them to Belleville, let alone repair a 1996 Plymouth with a leaking radiator and 191,000 miles on it.

“So you went on to Belleville and then came here looking for Jonas?” Hannah looked thoughtful.

“I’m not asking for money. I don’t want anything from him or from any of you. I just want to meet him.” Grace chewed on her lower lip. “Since Trudie died, I haven’t had any family.” She hung her head. “Not really.” She looked up again. “So, I thought that if I found my father...maybe...” Her throat tightened and she could feel a prickling sensation behind her eyelids. Grace took a deep breath. She didn’t need to tell her father’s wife the whole story. She’d save it for him. She looked right at Hannah. “I need to talk to my father. Please,” she added firmly.

Hannah clasped a hand over her mouth and made a small sound of distress. “Oh, child.” She closed her eyes for a second and hugged Dakota. “Oh, my poor Grace. It pains me to tell you that your father...Jonas...he died four years ago of a heart attack.”

Grace stared at her in disbelief. Thank goodness she was sitting down; her legs felt a little weak. Dead? After she’d come so far to find him? How was that possible? Bad things come in threes, and if you don’t expect much out of life, you won’t be disappointed. Her mother always said that. But the awful words Hannah had just spoken were almost more than she could bear.

Her father was dead, too?

Dear God, Grace thought, how could You let this happen? First my mother, then Joe and now my father. Now she was glad they hadn’t eaten since her breakfast of Tastykakes. If she had anything in her stomach, it would be coming up.

“I’m so sorry,” Hannah said. “It must be a terrible shock to you. We’ve all had time to get used to Jonas’s passing. We miss him terribly. He was a good man, your father, the best husband in the world.”

“Not so good as we thought, that nephew of mine,” Aunt Jezzy observed, more to herself than the others. “Not if he fathered a child and didn’t take responsibility for her.”

“Hush, now, Aunt Jezzy,” Hannah softly chided. “We shouldn’t judge him. Jonas was a good man, but he was human, as we all are.” She kept her gaze fixed on Dakota’s sweet face. “He told me that he and Trudie Schrock had made a mistake, and that he’d repented of what he’d done. She left, suddenly, without telling him. No one knew where she went. She just left a note, telling her father that she didn’t want to be Plain anymore. Jonas never knew about you,” she told Grace, lifting her gaze. “You have my word on it.”

Grace nodded, trying to get her bearings again. Trying hard not to cry. What was she going to do now? Her whole plan had been based on getting to her father. She was going to come to him, tell him the mistakes she’d made and beg him to let her into his life. She was going to promise to make only good choices from now on, to find a good man who wouldn’t lie to her and deceive her. She was going to tell him she wanted to become—

“So.” Hannah smiled at her with tears in her eyes. “What do we do now, you and me? Where do we start, Grace Yoder?”

Grace felt shaky, her mind racing. What did she want the Yoders to do with her? What was her plan B?

Joe always said you had to have a plan B. “Maybe I could have that cup of coffee?”

Hannah chuckled. “You have your father’s good sense, Grace. Of course you shall have your coffee, and the soup I promised. Then we’ll all take ourselves off to bed. You’ll stay here tonight, and I won’t hear any arguments. I’ll put you and Dakota in the guest bedroom.”

“You’ll just let me stay?” Grace asked, truly surprised by Hannah’s kindness. Especially after the news Grace had just dumped in her lap about her husband. “You don’t know me. I could be a thief or an ax murderer.”

Hannah smiled at her. “I doubt that, not if you’re

Jonas’s girl. A straighter, more God-fearing man never lived. He might have stumbled once, but he never faltered. I’m sure you’re as trustworthy as any of your sisters.”

Susanna giggled. “A sister.”

“Thank you,” Grace managed. “Thank you all.” She looked at the women and the boy, all looking at her.

Exactly what she was going to do now?

* * *

Grace hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep a wink, but she’d drifted off to the sound of rain falling against the windowpanes and the soft hum of Dakota’s breathing. And when she’d opened her eyes, it was full morning, the rain had stopped and the sun was shining.

My father is dead, she thought. She’d come all this way, only to find out that he was as lost to her as Trudie. She felt numb. What was plan B? Where did she go now? What did she do?

“I’m hungry,” Dakota said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Can I have more cookies?” He popped his thumb in his mouth.

“No cookies this morning,” she said.

No one had said a thing about Dakota’s dark skin the night before, but she’d be ready for their questions. When Hannah and her sisters asked, and Grace was sure they would, she’d tell the truth—that Dakota’s father had been Native American. Marg had said that the Amish were backward, old-fashioned and set in their ways. Grace hoped that didn’t include judging people by the color of their skin, because if they couldn’t accept Dakota, then she wanted no part of them.

But they hadn’t seemed to care.

Grace looked down at Dakota’s little face as her mind raced. Plan B. She had to have a plan B. But maybe...maybe plan B should be the same as plan A. Or close. Why couldn’t it be? Hannah had been so nice to her. So welcoming.

“Cookies aren’t for breakfast,” she told her son as she got out of bed and put her arms out to him. “But I’m sure Miss Hannah will be able to find something for you in her kitchen.”

Just thinking of that kitchen made a lump rise in Grace’s throat. It was exactly the kind of kitchen she’d expected to find in her father’s house, only better. It was big and warm and homey, all the things that the kitchens she’d known in her life weren’t. And the Amish she’d met last night, even suspicious Aunt Jezzy and tough Johanna, were right for Hannah’s kitchen.

What would it have been like to grow up here? she wondered. To belong to a world as safe as this one? To be part of a family who could welcome total strangers into their home and feed them and give them a place to sleep without asking for anything in return?

It all seemed too much. She’d just do what she’d always done when things got scary or uncertain. She’d do what was most important first and worry about the rest later. And now, finding something to feed her hungry child was what mattered. Plan B could wait.

She tidied the two of them up in the bathroom, took Dakota by the hand and, heart in her throat, led him back to the spacious kitchen.

Grace could smell coffee, bacon and other delicious odors coming from the kitchen as she walked down the hall. “Now, you be a good boy,” she whispered to

Dakota as she led him by the hand. Nervously, she slicked his cowlick back and tried to pat it down. “Show all these nice people just how sweet you are.”

Hannah, two of the sisters that she’d met the night before and Aunt Jezzy were gathered at the kitchen table.

“Miriam’s taking my place at the school this morning,” Hannah explained. “You’ll meet her, Ruth and Anna later. And this...” She waved toward a thirtyish brown-haired man in a blue chambray shirt and jeans sitting at the head of the table. “This is our friend John Hartman. John, this is Grace.”

Grace nodded. He didn’t look Amish to her. His hair was cropped short, almost in a military cut, and he had no beard. Definitely not a cowboy type; he was nice-looking in an old-fashioned, country way.

John rose to his feet, nodded and smiled at her. “Pleased to meet you, Grace.”

“He’s having breakfast,” Susanna explained as John sat down again. “He eats breakfast here a lot. He likes our breakfast.” She picked up Dakota and sat him next to her on an old wooden booster seat in a chair.

“I stopped by to check on one of Johanna’s ewes that got caught in a fence and Susanna caught me and...forced me to the table.”

Grace wanted to ask if he was a farmer; it sounded as if he knew something about animals. She liked animals, especially dogs, and she’d always felt more at ease around them than people. The best job she’d ever had was working at a kennel where she cleaned cages and took care of dogs boarded there while their families were on vacation. Trying not to say the wrong thing in front of her new family, though, she decided that the less she said to a strange man, the better.

Susanna laughed. “You’re silly, John. You said you were sooo hungry and Mam’s biscuits smelled sooo good.”

“I did and they do,” he agreed.

“He wanted to get married with Miriam,” Susanna happily explained, offering Dakota a cup of milk. “But she got married with Charley.”

John’s face flushed, but he shrugged, and looked right at Grace. “What can I say?” He grinned. “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.”

The others were laughing, so Grace forced a polite smile. John seemed like a stand-up guy, a real gentleman. As she accepted the cup of coffee Hannah handed her, Grace couldn’t help wondering why her half

sister had turned John down. If a man as good-looking as John, who had a job he could work when it rained, asked her, she’d marry him in a second.

Chapter Three

John finished off two slices of scrapple, two biscuits and a mound of scrambled eggs, but as much as he normally enjoyed Hannah’s cooking, he may as well have been eating his uncle’s frozen-in-a-box sausage bagels. He couldn’t take his eyes off the attractive, almost-model-thin redhead, wearing the strangest Plain clothing he’d ever seen on a woman.

Her name was Grace. A pretty name for a pretty girl. He knew he would have remembered her if he’d ever seen her before. She was obviously related to the Yoders; she looked like Hannah’s girls. From the attention she was giving the boy, she was probably his mother or at least his aunt. He didn’t look like the Yoders, though. And the two of them sure didn’t look Amish. So why had they spent the night here?

John was Mennonite, and among his people, staying in the homes of total strangers who shared the same faith was commonplace. Mennonites could travel all over the world and always be certain of a warm welcome from friendly hosts, whether it was for a weekend or a month. But the Amish were a people apart and rarely mingled socially with outsiders, who they called Englishers.

“‘Come out from among them and be separate.’” 2 Corinthian 6:14. It was a verse that John had heard quoted many times since he’d come to join his uncle’s and grandfather’s veterinary practice. Because he specialized in large farm animals, many of his clients were Old Order Amish. Mennonites and Amish shared many of the same principles, and because he’d come close to marrying a Yoder daughter, he’d gotten to know the Amish in a way that few Englishers did.

Who was this mystery woman with such a haunting look of vulnerability? And what was so important about Grace’s visit that Hannah—who never missed school—had taken the day off from teaching? John couldn’t wait to get one of the Yoders alone and find out.

He lingered as long as he could at the table, having more coffee, eating when he wasn’t really hungry and trying his best to engage Grace in conversation. But either she didn’t answer or gave only one-word responses to his questions, intriguing him even further.

Eventually, he ran out of excuses to sit at Hannah’s table and glanced at his watch. “I hate to leave such good company,” he said, “but I have an appointment out at Rob Miller’s farm.” Repeating his thanks and wishing the others a good day, he gave Grace one last smile, and left the kitchen.

Hannah followed him out onto the porch, carefully closing the door behind her. “Well, what do you think?” she asked, drying her clean hands on her apron. “Of our visitor?”

He wondered whether to play it safe and be polite or to be himself. Himself won. “Um...she’s nice. Pretty.” He met her gaze. “But, Hannah, I’m confused. Grace isn’t Amish, is she?”

“Ne, John, that she isn’t.”

“A friend of the family from out of town?”

“None of us had ever laid eyes on her until last night. She came to us out of the storm, soaked to the skin and near to exhaustion. She’d been hitchhiking.”

“Pretty dangerous for a young woman,” he observed, not sure where the conversation was going.

John could tell that Hannah was pondering something, and that she wanted to talk, yet the Amish tradition of intense privacy remained strong. John waited. Either she would share her concerns or she wouldn’t. No amount of nudging would budge her if she wanted to be secretive.

But then Hannah blurted right out, “Grace is my late husband’s daughter.”

“Jonas’s daughter?” John stared at her in disbelief. He’d never heard that Jonas had been married before. “Jonas was married—”

“Jonas and Grace’s mother never married. She ran away from the church. Jonas never knew she was in the family way.”

John couldn’t have been more shocked if a steer had been sitting at Hannah’s table this morning. For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Jonas Yoder had been one of the most genuinely kind and decent men he had ever known. It just didn’t seem to fit that Jonas would... “You’re certain this isn’t a scam of some kind?” He couldn’t imagine that the young woman he’d met inside could do anything dishonest, but Uncle Albert had often told him that he was naive when it came to seeing who or what people truly were. “She’s not trying to get anything from you? Money or something?”

“She’s asked for nothing. She came here looking for Jonas and I had to tell her he’d passed.”

Poor Grace, he thought. How terrible for her. But how terrible for Hannah, too. Not just to hear this news, to learn the awful truth about her beloved husband, but to have to tell his child that he was dead.

“I...believe the girl is who she says she is,” Hannah admitted, going on slowly. “Jonas told me...confided to me his affection for her mother, Trudie. Jonas was under the impression they were courting, then Trudie left the church and her family and disappeared. Jonas never knew anything about a baby. I would suspect her family didn’t, either.”

“It’s possible, I suppose.” John glanced out into the farmyard, feeling so badly for Hannah. Not wanting her to feel uncomfortable. This kind of thing was a delicate matter. Unwed young Amish women occasionally got pregnant, but it didn’t happen often. And when it did, there was repentance, then a quick wedding and the matter was settled. “She has the same color hair as your girls.”

“And Jonas’s blue eyes.”

John glanced toward the kitchen door, picturing again the guarded expression in the young woman’s gaze. “I thought there was something familiar about her. She favors Johanna, not as tall, and she’s a lot thinner, but...”

“Too thin by my way of thinking, but Miriam was always slender, too.”

John nodded. It hadn’t been easy, coming to accept losing Miriam. But after two years, he could see her or hear her name without feeling as though a horse had kicked him in the gut. And he could see that she’d made the right decision. She wouldn’t have been happy leaving the Amish, so as much as he hated to admit it, Charley was right for her.

“How do you feel about Grace coming here?” he asked. “It must be a shock to you.”

“Ya, a shock. It...is. My Jonas was as capable of making a mistake as any of us. As much as I loved and respected him...” She shrugged. “A bishop, my Jonas was, but I knew him to be a man first. His girls think him perfect.” She chuckled. “And the longer he’s dead, the more perfect he becomes.”

John grinned. “That happens a lot, and not just in your family. My mother and father didn’t always see eye to eye, but once he died, Mom promoted him to sainthood.”

Hannah laced her fingers together. “Whatever Jonas’s faults, he repented of them and asked God’s forgiveness every day. When he passed, he left me the means to care for his children and myself and nothing but good memories.” She walked down the steps and into the sunshine.

John followed her, giving her a moment before he spoke again. “You are the most remarkable person, Hannah Yoder. Most women would have been furious or so hurt, so bitter that they couldn’t have considered inviting the girl into their home.”

“Ne.” She shook her head and slowly slid down to sit on the top step of the porch. “I am not remarkable, only numb, like after you hit your thumb with a hammer. Before the pain starts.”

“But you didn’t take it out on Grace. That’s what matters. You had compassion for a stranger.”

“Why should I blame her? None of this is Grace’s fault. She’s innocent. I need to remember that. My girls will look to me to see how to treat her, as will the community.”

“I’m just saying, as your friend, that you have a right to be upset.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Her coming here changes your family. Forever.”

“And her,” Hannah said. “I don’t believe she has had an easy life. Her mother died when she was a child.”

“So she’s left without a mother or a father?” No wonder she had the look of a lost puppy, he thought. But then, he corrected himself. Not a puppy, but a feral kitten, wanting so badly to be loved, but ready to scratch to defend itself. “So now that she’s here, what are you going to do with her?”

Hannah frowned ever so gently. “Honestly, John, I have no idea.”

* * *

Later, after John left and the breakfast dishes were cleared away and Rebecca and Jonah had left for the other sister’s house, Grace watched as Johanna settled at the kitchen table with a pile of quilting pieces. Her daughter sat beside her, playing with her own squares of cloth. Just as the night before, Johanna seemed stiff and reserved. Grace couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t every day a stranger showed up claiming to be a long-lost sister. Katie, however, was all dimples and giggling personality in her Amish dress, apron and white cap.

“How old are you?” Grace asked the child.

“Drei!” Katie held up three fingers.

“My goodness, you’re a big girl for three,” Grace said. She and Dakota were the same age, but Katie was nearly a head taller and much sturdier. Shyly, her son hid behind her skirt and peered out at Katie. “Come out and meet Katie,” she said, taking his hand. She squatted down so that she was closer in size to the two of them. “Katie, this is Dakota.”

He stared at her, and Grace ruffled his hair. No matter how much she slicked it down, his coarse Indian hair insisted on sticking up like the straw in a scarecrow. No wonder Joe had grown his long and braided it. “Say hello,” she urged her son.

“’Lo,” he managed. Grace could tell that he wanted to play with Katie. Since she’d had to pull him out of day care back in Nebraska, Dakota had missed his friends.

Katie put a finger in her mouth and stared back.

“She doesn’t speak English very well yet,” Hannah said, walking into the kitchen. “But she understands it. Most children learn when they start school, but Jonas always insisted that we use both English and Pennsylvania Dutch at home, so the girls wouldn’t feel uncomfortable among the Englishers.” She looked at Johanna. “I know you need to get to your quilt, but if you, Grace and Susanna could hang out the wash, I can get that turkey in the oven.” She glanced at Grace. “I hope you don’t mind. We all pitch in to do the housework.”

“Sure,” Grace said. “I’ll be glad to help. Tell me what to do.”

“I’m just glad we’ve got sun and a good breeze,” Hannah said. “We’re expecting company this afternoon, and I’ve washed all the sheets. If it had kept raining, they would have been a mess to get dry.”

“Right,” Grace mused. “No electric dryer.” Then she considered what Hannah had just said and started to get nervous. About her new plan: plan B. “You’re getting company? I guess I picked a bad time to show up here.”

“Ne,” Hannah said. “It’s a big house. Friends of ours, the Roman Bylers, have relatives moving here from Indiana. Sadie and Ebben King bought the little farm down the road from us. They’ll be part of our church. Two of their sons and a daughter, all married, live here in Kent County, so they decided it was time to move east. They’ll be staying with us until the repairs are done and they get a new roof on.”

Grace wanted to ask why the Kings were staying with the Yoders instead of their own relatives, but she thought it better to keep her questions to herself. She didn’t want to be rude.

“They have one boy left at home,” Hannah continued. “David. He’s their youngest. He’s like our Susanna. Special.”

It took Grace a second to realize what Hannah meant. The son must have Down syndrome like Susanna. She nodded in understanding.

“Get those wet sheets, Johanna?” Hannah asked.

Minutes later, Dakota and Katie were happily playing together under Hannah’s watchful eye in the kitchen, while Grace, Susanna and Johanna hung laundry on the clothesline in the backyard.

As Grace hung a wet sheet on the line running between two poles, she took in her surroundings. It seemed almost too good to be true to Grace. The white house, the wide green lawn with carefully tended flower beds, and not a car or TV antenna in sight. The only sounds she heard were the breeze rustling through the tree branches, the creak of the windmill blades and the joyous song of a mockingbird.

Johanna, her mouth full of clothespins, was intent on attaching a row of dresses—blue, lavender and green dresses—while Susanna and Grace hung items from an overflowing basket of towels and sheets. Grace eyed the dresses and aprons wistfully. Today she’d put on a clean blouse from her bag, but she didn’t have another long skirt or apron so she’d had to put the same ones on again. Susanna and Johanna both wore modest Amish dresses in different shades of blue with white aprons and stiff white caps. Grace felt foolish with her men’s handkerchief tied over her hair, but no one had mentioned it, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought.

Susanna hummed as she worked, but her older sister was clearly out of sorts. After a while, Grace took a deep breath and peered over the clothesline at Johanna. “I don’t blame you,” she said in a low voice.

Silence.

“I can see how it would be upsetting,” Grace went on. “Me coming here.”

Johanna reached down for a boy’s pair of blue trousers. “If you must know, I’m not sure I believe you. I don’t want to see my mother hurt.”

Grace felt her cheeks burning. She’d expected her stepmother to be the one who would try to deny her, not a sister. Not that Grace had even expected a sister. She’d never allowed herself to think any further than finding her father and hoping he’d claim her. Oh, there had been a family in the background in her daydreams, sort of a shadowy idea of younger brothers, but never in a million years had she considered that she’d find seven sisters.

And Johanna had been a surprise. She and Johanna looked so much alike, almost like twins, although Grace was shorter and skinnier. It was weird to Grace, seeing a stranger who looked so much like the face she saw in the mirror every time she brushed her teeth. And their light auburn hair, a shade you didn’t often see, was exactly the same color that Marg had said that Grace’s father’s had been.

“Trudie’s man was a ginger-haired, blue-eyed Amish hottie,” Marg had told her.

Grace was so sorry she’d never get the chance to meet Jonas. It wasn’t fair. But when had life ever been fair to her?

“Think what you want about me,” Grace said stubbornly to Johanna. “I’m here, and I’m just as much Jonas’s daughter as you are.”

“Maybe,” Johanna said. “That remains to be seen.”

“What are you arguing about?” Susanna demanded, pulling the clothesline down so she could see them over a row of towels. “Don’t be mean, Johanna.”

“I’m not being mean.”

“Are, too.” Susanna planted her chubby hand on one hip and stuck out her chin. “Mam said be nice to Grace. She’s our sister.”

“She might be our sister, but she might not, Susanna Banana. She might be a stranger just pretending to be our sister.”

Susanna shook her head. “I like her, and I like Dakota.”

“But what if she’s trying to trick us, just saying she’s our sister?” Johanna argued.

“Doesn’t matter,” Susanna said firmly. “Maybe God wanted her to come here. She needs us.” Her head bobbed. “Ya, and maybe we need her. It doesn’t matter if she’s a real sister. She can be one, if we want her to, can’t she?”

Grace turned toward Susanna as tears gathered in her eyes. “Thank you,” she managed, before dashing across the grass and back into the house. She wanted to go into her room, to fling herself on the bed, shut the door and try to reason this all out. She didn’t trust herself to talk to Hannah or anyone else until she’d regained her composure.

“What’s wrong?” Hannah asked as Grace came in the back door.

Grace rubbed at her eyes and sniffed. “Nothing. Must be allergic to something.”

“Ya,” Hannah agreed. “Must be.”

“This is hard,” Grace admitted, folding her arms over her chest and looking down at the floor. “I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“It is going to be hard for all of us. Maybe Johanna most of all.” She glanced at the two children who were busily sorting wooden animals in a toy ark in the center of the floor. “Come with me.” She motioned, and Grace followed her into what appeared to be a big pantry off the kitchen. “So the children won’t hear,” she said quietly. “Don’t be too quick to judge Johanna. She has a good heart, but she’s had a hard time these last few years. She is a widow, too. Did you know?”

Grace shook her head. “No.” So Johanna had lost her man, too? It was creepy how much alike they were. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

“He was sick...in his mind,” Hannah explained. “Wilmer took his own life. Johanna couldn’t manage their farm on her own, so she came home to live with us. For a long time, things were not good with her and Wilmer, and she finds it hard to trust people.”

Grace nodded. “I can understand that.”

“The two of you have common ground,” Hannah said. “You both have small children that you love. It’s a place to start, ne?”

“Maybe.” Grace sighed. “But why can’t she be like Susanna and just accept me for who I am?”

Hannah smiled. “We should all be like our Susanna. She is one of God’s special people. She was born with a heart overflowing with joy.”

“You believe me, don’t you? That I’m Jonas’s daughter?”

The older woman hesitated only a second. “Ya, I do.”

“Then...” She peered into Hannah’s eyes, thinking about plan B. This was it. This was her opportunity to speak up. “Can we stay—at least for a little while? I won’t be a burden, I promise. I’ll get a job and pay room and board, and I’ll pitch in like everyone else.” She glanced at her feet, then raised her head, her eyes wet with tears. “But I need to be here.”

“You can stay as long as you like.”

Grace looked into Hannah’s eyes. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth last night. About coming here.”

The older woman’s face didn’t change.

“I did come here to find my father. To meet him. But also...” She thought of Dakota and the life she’d led, the life she didn’t want for her son. That was what gave her the strength to spit it out. “I came to Seven Poplars to tell my father that I want to be Amish. Like him.”

Hannah looked away. “Oh my, Grace.” She sighed.

“It’s not impossible, is it?” Grace went on. “Especially because my father—and technically Trudie— were Amish?”

Hannah turned back to her and smiled wryly. “It’s not so easy. Sometimes Englishers say they want to be like us, but the world calls to them, too loudly.”

“I’ve seen the world,” Grace insisted. “It’s too loud.”

Again Hannah smiled. And this time she patted Grace’s arm. “Best you stay awhile and see if this is the life for you before you make big decisions like that. But whatever you choose, you and Dakota will still be family.”

“But I’ve already thought about this for a long time.” Grace tried not to sound whiny like Dakota sometimes did. Now that she had plan B straight in her head, she wanted to put it into place. “Being Amish feels right.”

“First, you live with us and see how you like it. See if it still feels right to you once you’ve walked in our shoes. In time, if you still think this is the life you would choose, we’ll talk to the bishop and see what he says. But first, you must learn gelassenheit, the ability to submit your will to that of the elders, the church and the community.”

“I will! I’ll do anything you say, if only you won’t turn us away.”

Hanna studied Grace closely. “Can you turn your back on the world? Can you give up your automobiles, your television programs, your telephones and live a Plain life?”

“I can. I promise you that that’s what I want.”

Hannah took her hands. “Then we will try, together. And may the Lord help and guide us every step of the way.”

Chapter Four

“Wake up, Schweschder,” Susanna called, pushing open Grace’s bedroom door. “Wait till you see! Mam sent you new clothes. And Plain clothes for Dakota, too.”

Grace stifled a groan. Surely it couldn’t be time to get up yet. It wasn’t even light out. How was Susanna always so happy this early in the morning? Still, Susanna had called her sister, and the word glowed warm in Grace’s heart. At least someone thought she belonged here.

Susanna placed a kerosene lamp carefully on the dresser, and a circle of soft yellow light spread across the room. “Mam says it’s time to get up.”

“I’m coming,” Grace promised. Getting up before dawn was hard. She’d never been a morning person and rarely came fully awake until her second cup of coffee. Groaning, she pushed back the heavy quilt. She was no quitter. She’d do whatever she had to do to prove to Hannah that she was worthy of becoming one of them.

The room was cool and the feather ticks and quilt that covered the bed toasty. Dakota was snuggled beside her, black hair all spiky and one arm wrapped tightly around his stuffed bunny. Intense love for her son washed over Grace. Dakota was what mattered most in the world to her. His welfare was more important than anything else. The past three days hadn’t been easy, but the worst had to be behind her if Hannah had sent them Amish clothing. If they dressed like the rest of the family, it had to be easier for them to fit into the household and the community.

Dakota sighed and burrowed deeper under the covers. She’d tucked him into the trundle bed as she had for the past three nights since Irwin had carried it down from the attic. She knew he should be sleeping in his own bed, but every morning, when she awoke, Dakota was in her bed. Back in Nebraska, he’d slept alone, but since she’d uprooted his life, he didn’t want to be apart from her, especially at night. And who could blame him? Seven Poplars was a world apart from a trailer park on the wrong side of the tracks. If she was confused, how much more must Dakota be?

“Mam is making blueberry pancakes,” Susanna supplied cheerfully. “And today the Kings come. To stay with us.” She bounced from one foot to another in excitement. “Do you want me to take Dakota to the potty and brush his teeth?”

“Would you?” Grace leaned down and whispered in her son’s ear. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Dakota sat up, yawned and rubbed his eyes. A lopsided grin spread over his face when he caught sight of Susanna. Sometimes, Grace found Susanna’s speech a little hard to understand, but Dakota seemed to have no trouble at all. He’d taken to Susanna, as Joe would have said, “Like a cowboy to hot biscuits.”

Thoughts of Joe were bittersweet, and Grace pushed his image away. So many mistakes...but then there was Dakota, her precious son.

Susanna held out her chubby arms, and Dakota scrambled out of the bed and bounced into her embrace. “I’ll help him get dressed, too.” Dakota waved over Susanna’s shoulder as she scooped up a small shirt and a pair of blue overalls and went happily off with her.

Grace’s pulse quickened as she looked at the neatly folded stack of clothing. Her hands trembled as she reached for the white head covering on top, but when she picked it up, she couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. It wasn’t a proper Kapp, not like the ones Hannah and her daughters wore. It was white cotton, starched and hand-stitched, but more like a Mennonite head covering than Amish. She’d seen Mennonites in the Midwest; they sort of dressed like everyone else, just more modestly.

The long-sleeved calico dress was robin’s egg blue with a pattern of tiny white flowers that fell a good three inches below her knees. It wasn’t new, but it fit as if it had been made for her. And once she tied the starched white apron over the dress and added the dark stockings and sensible navy blue sneakers, Grace had to admit that it was a great improvement over the outfit she had arrived in. But it definitely wasn’t Amish.

“Small steps,” she murmured under her breath. “I should be grateful that Hannah didn’t toss me out in the rain.” Instantly, she felt guilty for her lack of patience. She dropped to her knees beside the bed and offered a fervent prayer of apology and thanks. “I’m still fumbling in the dark, Lord,” she whispered. “I came here looking for a father, and instead You showed me the possibility of a whole family. Help me to do what’s right for Dakota and me.”

Grace knew that she had much to atone for and much to learn. But surely, a merciful God wouldn’t give her a glimpse of heaven, only to snatch it all away.

“Grace?”

Grace rose hastily and turned to see Hannah standing in the open doorway.

“I’m sorry,” Hannah said. “I didn’t mean to disturb your prayers.”

Grace felt her cheeks grow warm. How long had Hannah been standing there? Had she heard her prayer? Unconsciously, Grace put a hand to her cap, checking to see if it was securely pinned in place. “You didn’t... I mean, I was done. I...” She hesitated. “I thought... These clothes aren’t...”

“They’re Plain,” Hannah said. “Not Amish, but not English, either. Halfway, as you are, Grace. Actually, the dress is a gift from your sister Leah’s Aunt Joyce, by marriage. She’s Mennonite. Leah married into the family.”

“Anna told me that Leah and her husband, Daniel, were missionaries in Brazil. I didn’t think that was allowed....”

Hannah’s features softened. “Our way, the Old Order Amish way, must be chosen freely by each person. I can’t deny that I was surprised that Leah chose another path to God, the Mennonite path, but I accept it as part of His plan.”

“Oh.” Grace couldn’t imagine that her sister would want to leave Seven Poplars for Brazil. And to be Amish and give it up...

“Leah’s husband, Daniel, has an aunt nearby. Joyce and I have become friends. When I saw her at Byler’s and mentioned you, she said that a niece had outgrown some dresses that might fit you. Joyce dropped them off yesterday, but they were a little long.”

“I always have to hem stuff,” Grace said. “I’m short.”

“Your father wasn’t a tall man.” Hannah folded her arms. “I hope you like the cap and apron. Rebecca sewed them for you.”

“I do.” Grace took a deep breath. “And I appreciate the clothing. But I don’t want to be a burden. I’ll get a job just as soon as I can and contribute money to the household.” She thought as she spoke aloud. “There must be hotels in Dover. I’ve worked in housekeeping a lot and most places have a big turnover. I’m not sure what I’d do for transportation. Is there a bus—”

“Ne.” Hannah shook her head. “Not permitted.”

Grace looked at her. “You mean I...we aren’t allowed to use public transportation? Is there a rule against—”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “You cannot work in a hotel. Housekeeping for English is sometimes allowed in private homes, but the bishop must approve it. He would never allow a woman to work in such a place.”

“Being a maid is respectable,” Grace argued. “We hardly see the guests at all. I wouldn’t be alone. Two girls work together to clean the rooms.”

“Too worldly. At Spence’s Auction you could work, or at Byler’s. Even Fifer’s Orchard. But not as a hotel maid. We keep apart from the world.”

Grace stared at the hardwood floor. “I’m not sure what I can do, then.”

Hannah sighed. “I’m sorry, Grace. If times were better, Eli and Roman could use you in the office at the chair shop. But this winter there’s barely enough work for the men.”

“I know the economy is bad,” Grace said in an attempt to remain positive. “But I’ve worked since I was fourteen. That’s why I thought housekeeping—”

“Ne. Maybe Johanna would let you help with her quilting. She sells her quilts in English shops.”

Grace grimaced. “I can’t sew. I’m all thumbs when it comes to replacing a button.”

“Maybe her bees. She has nine beehives and collects honey for—”

“I’m allergic to bees.” Grace’s shoulders slumped. “The last time I was stung, I ended up in the emergency room. I didn’t have insurance, and it took me two years to pay off the bill.”

“Then we’ll have to keep you away from the beehives. We don’t have insurance, either.” Hannah met Grace’s gaze. “We Amish put our trust in God, and if the worst happens, we help each other to pay the expense.” She smiled. “Have faith, Grace. He brought you to us, and He won’t abandon you now. We’ll put our heads together and find a job for you.” Her eyes twinkled. “One that Bishop Atlee and even my sister-in-law Martha will approve of.”

From the way Hannah’s nose wrinkled when she mentioned Martha, Grace had a feeling that Martha might be harder to please than the bishop. “I don’t believe I’ve met her yet, have I?” Since she and Dakota had come to the Yoder farm, there’d been a steady stream of visitors, but she didn’t remember anyone named Martha.

“Ne, you haven’t. Martha, Reuben and their daughter, Dorcas, have gone to Lancaster to a Coblentz wedding. Reuben is a Coblentz.” Hannah brushed the wrinkles out of her starched apron. “Now we should eat our breakfast before it gets cold. It will be a busy day, and I don’t want to be late for school.”

“If you would tell me what you need done before you leave, I can—”

“Johanna knows. And I should be home before the Kings arrive. We don’t expect them until supper time. It all depends on what time their driver picked them up this morning. They spent last night with relatives in Ohio and still have a long drive today.”

“It’s good of you to have them stay with you.”

“Roman’s house is small, and they have children. Ebben is a second cousin of your father. They could have stayed with their daughter and her husband, but they live over by Black Bottom. Better Ebben be here to see to finishing their house. You’ll like Sadie, a sensible woman with a good heart. Full of fun. Always the jokes, Sadie.”

Pondering how different Amish life was than what she’d expected, Grace followed Hannah out of the bedroom. She’d thought her father’s people would be stern and solemn, sort of like modern-day Pilgrims. Instead, she’d found gentle ways and easy laughter, making her realize just how much she’d missed out on by not being raised as one of them. If I had, she thought, everything would be so different. And I wouldn’t have so much to ask forgiveness for....

When they reached the kitchen, Grace saw Rebecca, Susanna, Irwin, Aunt Jezzy and the children already seated while Johanna carried a steaming platter of pancakes to the table. Susanna was pouring milk for the little ones as Rebecca slid sausage onto Jonah’s plate. No one seemed to mind that Katie already had a mouthful of applesauce before silent prayer.

Dakota looked up at Grace and grinned. She stopped short and stared at him. Dakota’s handmade blue shirt and overalls were identical to the ones worn by Johanna’s

Jonah. Grace had been meaning to trim his hair. It grew so fast that it always needed cutting. But now, she saw that the style was just right. Black hair or not, Dakota looked exactly like any other little Amish boy. Fresh hope welled up inside her as she blinked back tears of happiness. She would make a life for them here. She had to. They could never go back to living as they had before.

“Coffee?” Johanna asked as Grace slid into an empty chair.

“Yes, please, but I can get—”

“I’m up. Mam?”

Hannah nodded, and Johanna returned with the pot.

The odor of fresh coffee assaulted Grace’s senses. She knew from every other cup she’d enjoyed in Hannah’s kitchen that the brew would be just the way she liked it—hot, and strong enough to dissolve a spoon, as her mother would have said. Johanna took her seat, and Grace bowed her head along with everyone at the table, including the children.

A moment or two later, everyone was digging into breakfast, more interested in the delicious meal than talking. It gave Grace time to compose herself and smile at Johanna. “I’ll be glad to help you get ready for your guests,” she murmured shyly.

“Willing hands are always welcome. Anna, Ruth and Miriam are coming over once they finish morning chores at home. Between us, we can roast a turkey, prepare enough food for company and get the house shining.”

“And me,” Susanna reminded. “I can help.”

“You’re always a good helper,” Johanna said. “And you’ll do us a big favor if you can keep Jonah, Katie, Dakota and Anna’s Mae out of trouble while we’re busy.”

Susanna giggled. “We’ll make oatmeal kichlin. With raisin faces.”

“Cookies!” Jonah chimed in. “I like cookies.”

“Me, too,” Dakota echoed. Katie clapped her hands. As Johanna had said, Katie was just learning English, but it was clear she understood everything being said at the table.

Grace was just accepting the platter of pancakes from Johanna when Irwin’s terrier began to bark. Surprised, Grace turned to look toward the door. Surely her sisters wouldn’t be here this early in the morning.

Hannah rose, motioning to the others to remain at the table. When a knock came, everyone stopped talking. Hannah removed her scarf and quickly put on her Kapp.

“I hope nothing is wrong,” Aunt Jezzy said. “The sun isn’t up yet.”

Hannah opened the door and laughed. “John, you are an early bird. Come in. We’re just sitting down to breakfast.”

Rebecca cut her eyes at Johanna and stifled a giggle.

“John!” Susanna cried. “It’s John.”

Everyone was looking at him, but John didn’t seem to mind. He stamped his feet and rubbed his hands together. “It’s cold out there. You don’t have a cup of coffee to spare for a frozen friend, do you?”

“Of course.” Hannah chuckled. “Take off your coat and come to the table. We have plenty.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” John answered with a grin. “I’ve been up all night with one of Clarence Miller’s cows.”

“Bad off?” Johanna asked.

“Delivered safely of twin heifers,” John pronounced. “Although it was a near thing. The first one was breech. If Clarence hadn’t come for me, I’m afraid they would have lost all three.”

“Thanks be to God,” Aunt Jezzy said.

John tucked his gloves into his coat pockets and hung his coat on a hook near the door. “I didn’t come empty-handed,” he said to Hannah. “Clarence just butchered two days ago. He insisted on giving me a ham and a pork loin. I left them in the cold box on the porch. You’re welcome to them, and I know you can use them with company coming.”

“Grace.” Johanna nudged her. “Could you set a plate for John and pour him some coffee?”

Grace nodded. “Sure.” John smiled and winked at her as she got up, and she felt herself blushing. What was it about him that made her feel as if she had two left feet? She’d always been more at ease around men than women. But John Hartman was different. When he looked at her, her wits scattered like fall leaves in a windstorm.

“Don’t put yourself out for me,” he said. “I know where Hannah keeps the cups.”

“No,” Grace insisted. “You sit. You’re company.” Thinking about John was distracting, but it made her feel good that Johanna had asked for help. It made Grace feel warm inside to welcome someone into the house. For a few minutes she could almost convince herself that she had always been one of them.

“Look at you,” he said, making a show of staring at her. “Dress and apron, prayer cap.”

Grace’s throat clenched. Was he making fun of her? “Hannah gave them to me,” she said. It came out a whisper.

John saw that his teasing had upset her. “I think you look fine,” he said with another warm smile. “More than fine. I think you look...”

“Plain?” Hannah said, coming to his rescue.

“I was going to say pretty,” he answered. “And Plain. Nice. The blue brings out the blue in your eyes.”

Now everyone was staring at her. Woodenly, she walked to the stove and reached for the coffeepot.

“Watch it!” John warned, lunging across the room and throwing out a hand to block her arm. “You need a hot mitt. You don’t want to burn yourself.”

Grace yanked her arm back almost as fast as she would have if she had been burned. For a second, their gazes met, and she saw the real concern in John’s eyes. Then she took a step back. “Sorry,” she managed. “I didn’t think.”

“Ne,” Susanna said. “You don’t want to get a burn. Becca did. Becca burned herself on the stove. She got the blister. Mam had to put medicine on it.”

John found a hot mitt and handed it to Grace.

“Thank you,” she said. “That was dumb of me.”

“Not dumb,” he answered in a deep, rich voice. “We all make silly mistakes.” He opened a cupboard door, removed a mug and held it out to her. She forced her hands not to tremble as she filled the cup nearly to the brim. “Thank you, Grace Yoder,” he said.

Rebecca giggled.

“Come back to the table, you two, before breakfast turns to ice,” Hannah called. “You say both calves were heifers, John?”

He gave Grace a warm grin before turning back to the table. “Pretty calves, both of them. Big. A little tired, but they were both on their feet and nursing when I left the barn. Clarence is lucky. They’ll make a fine addition to his dairy herd if he decides not to sell them.”

“Late in the year for calves,” Irwin said between mouthfuls of pancake.

“Or early.” John took a chair. “Clarence didn’t intend for her to calve in November. He said Reuben’s bull broke down the fence between their farms and got into his pasture.”

Grace was grateful that the conversation had turned to animals and away from her. She’d heard lots of talk about livestock around the rodeo, and she’d grown used to it. It was clear that John was dedicated to his work. He didn’t seem the least put out that he’d had to miss a night’s sleep in one of his client’s barns. Even on such a cold night.

“I saw your lights as I was on the way home,” he was saying. “I hoped that if I threw myself on your mercy, you’d feed me. Yesterday morning, Uncle Albert insisted on making oatmeal from scratch. It was awful, as thick and gummy as paste. He thought it was wonderful, and there was no way I could get away from the table without eating a bowl the size of my head.”

Susanna giggled. “The size of my head,” she echoed.

“I can’t imagine what it would be this morning for breakfast,” John continued, glancing across the table at Grace and smiling with his eyes. “I was just hoping it wouldn’t be more oatmeal.”

“Ya,” Irwin agreed. “Probably so.”

“That or his French toast,” John replied. “And he always burns that. Says charcoal is good for the digestion.” Everyone, including Grace and John and the children, laughed at that.

“It must be hard for the three of you,” Hannah said. “Three men with no woman to cook for you.”

“It’s a heavy burden, I can tell you.” John grinned again. “I’d do the cooking, but the truth is, mine is worse than Uncle Albert’s.”

As the meal continued, Grace tried to convince herself that John was just a friend who had stopped by unexpectedly, that she had no reason to think he was paying special attention to her. She tried to eat, but even the coffee seemed to have no taste at all. She forced herself to concentrate on finishing the single pancake she’d put on her plate before John had arrived.

“Another reason for stopping by, besides starvation,” John went on. “The young man who cleans our kennels hasn’t come in to work for three days. He didn’t even call to let us know he had quit. We’re desperate for help. I was wondering if Irwin might like to come by after school for a few hours and maybe half a day on Saturdays? What do you think, Irwin?”

“Me?” He looked up. “I don’t know, John. Are they big dogs?”

“You like dogs,” John said. “Look how good you are with Jeremiah. You’d be cleaning cages, doing some grooming, helping with—”

“Don’t know.” Irwin stared at his plate and pushed a piece of pancake into a pool of syrup. “I’ve got chores...and homework. Saturdays I’m pretty busy here on the farm.”

“Nine dollars an hour to start,” John said. “And I could arrange for you to have a ride to the clinic. You wouldn’t have to—”

“I could do it,” Grace interrupted.

Everyone looked at her.

She took a deep breath. “I used to work in a big kennel. I’m good with dogs. And...and I need a job.”

John looked surprised. “It’s hard work, Grace. Dirty work.”

She looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m not afraid of hard work. And I know dogs. I like them and they like me.” She glanced at Hannah. Unable to read her face, she looked back at John. “If you’ll give me a chance, I promise you won’t regret it.”

Chapter Five

“I’d have to talk to Uncle Albert,” John said. “But...I don’t think he cares who is hired, just so he and Sue aren’t doing the cleaning. She’s our new vet. Dr. Susan Noble. Just joined the practice in the spring. She’s the one who helped us get our small-animal business running.”

A lump the size of her coffee cup knotted in Grace’s throat, but this was too good an opportunity to miss. This was a job she could do. Please, God, she prayed silently. Help me convince them that I’m the right person. If it’s Your will, she added hastily.

She knew all too well that she’d often prayed for things that hadn’t come true—from praying that Joe would recover from his terrible accident, all the way to praying that her old Plymouth would make it to her destination. God didn’t always answer prayers, but she believed that He had His own good reasons. And it didn’t keep her from praying.

“I...I’d do a good job. I know I would,” Grace heard herself say.

John glanced at Hannah. “Is that something that your bishop would approve of?”

“Cleaning the cages? Is that what you need?” Hannah turned to Irwin. “You’re sure it isn’t something you’d like to consider?”

Irwin scooped up a forkful of pancake and jammed it in his mouth. “Got homework,” he muttered. “Don’t like strange dogs.”

“Ya, we all know how dedicated you are to your education,” Hannah said without the hint of a smile. Rebecca twittered and Johanna hid her amusement behind her coffee cup.

Susanna had no qualms about speaking her mind. “Ne,” she said. “Irwin hates school. He doesn’t do his homework unless Mam makes him.”

Irwin washed the last of his breakfast down with milk, mumbled an excuse and fled, grabbing his coat and hat as he went out the door. Jeremiah scrambled after him, hot on his master’s heels.

Hannah chuckled. “I think we can safely say that Irwin doesn’t want the job, John. Maybe you should consider Grace’s offer. I see no reason, because she’d be working for you and your grandfather and Albert, that Bishop Atlee should disapprove. Charley’s sister Mary still cleans house for you, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” John replied.

“You’ll give me a chance?” Grace asked eagerly. “I have kennel experience. My foster mother bred all kinds of dogs and sold the puppies. I cleaned cages, fed and groomed dogs, delivered puppies and did basic medical care for five years.”

“How many dogs did she have?” John asked.

Grace shrugged. “It depended. Sometimes more than a hundred.” She met his gaze. “I suppose it was a puppy mill, but Mrs. Klinger took good care of her dogs. She had a vet that came out to the house regularly. She fed her dogs well, and their cages were always clean and dry.” I should know, she thought. I spent enough hours on my hands and knees scrubbing them.

“Five years.” Hannah was watching Grace. Making her self-conscious. “How old were you?”

Grace lowered her gaze to her cup of coffee, then looked up again. “Twelve when I went to live with Mrs. Klinger.”

There were three other foster mothers and a group home before Mrs. Klinger, in the year after her mother died. After that, Sunny Acres Kennel didn’t seem so bad. Grace had had to work hard seven days a week, but as long as she kept up with her chores, behaved herself in church and didn’t fight with the other foster kids, Mrs. Klinger was nice enough to her.

At least she’d gotten to stay in the same school longer than she ever had before. It wasn’t like when she lived with Trudie. With her mother, she missed a lot of school. Once, when Grace was eight, she’d gotten off the school bus to find their trailer empty and all their stuff gone. She’d sat on the step crying until long after dark before her mother came back for her.

“It sounds as if you have the experience we need,” John said.

Maybe more experience than I care to share or you’d want to hear about, Grace thought as she clasped her hands together under the table where no one would see. Her stomach clenched. She didn’t like deceiving good people, but if they knew her for what she really was, they’d show her and Dakota the door.

John nodded. “Let me see what Uncle Albert thinks while Hannah checks with Bishop Atlee.”

It was all Grace could do to not let out a sigh of relief that no one had asked why she’d ended her stint at Sunny Acres at age sixteen. What would they think of her if they knew she’d run away from the foster home? She’d had her reasons, good reasons, but quitting high school and living on her own hadn’t been easy. Many a night she’d slept in someone’s barn or went to sleep hungry. She’d never stolen anything and she’d never begged. Somehow, with God’s help, she’d survived. And she’d never quit going to church wherever and whenever she could. Somehow, sitting in the back of a church, no matter which denomination, had helped to fill the emptiness inside her.