Unexpected Love

Amish widow Lizzie Fisher loves her seven stepchildren as though they were her own. But her brother-in-law’s unexpected arrival on the farm has her worried. After all, Zachariah Fisher is the true heir of the property. And he could decide to send her away from her family and her home of two years. Lizzie is determined to show the handsome farmer that her physical challenges don’t prevent her from being a hard worker or a loving mother. For she finds herself losing her heart to Zach and hopes he’ll see they’re meant to be a family forever.

“I thought I’d stay for a while,” Zack said.

Lizzie gasped. “But that wouldn’t be proper…” The thought of having Zack on the farm was disturbing.

She became unsettled when Zack put her in the focus of his dark gaze. “I’ll send for my mudder—and my sister Esther,” he said easily. “The three of us can stay there comfortably.”

Lizzie felt a feeling of dread. “But—”

“Not to worry, Lizzie Fisher.” He flashed her a friendly smile as he buttered the muffin. “I’ll head home and then accompany them back to Honeysuckle. I won’t be moving in without someone as chaperone.”

But that wasn’t all that concerned Lizzie. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he—they—would be staying. Why did he want to stay? She’d never met her mother-in-law or any of Abraham’s siblings. What if they didn’t like her? What if they judged her incapable of managing the farm and decided she was no longer needed?

Could she bear to be parted from her children?

Because, in her heart, they were her children, although she hadn’t given birth to them.

What would the future hold?

REBECCA KERTZ was first introduced to the Amish when her husband took a job with an Amish construction crew. She enjoyed watching the Amish foreman’s children at play and swapping recipes with his wife. Rebecca resides in Delaware with her husband and dog. She has a strong faith in God and feels blessed to have family nearby. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, doing crafts and visiting Lancaster County.

The Amish Mother

Rebecca Kertz

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In my distress I cried unto the Lord,

and He heard me.

—Psalms 120:1

For Maggie, Ellie and Ainsley with love

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Lancaster County, Pennsylvania

The apple trees were thick with bright, red juicy fruit waiting to be picked. Elizabeth King Fisher stepped out of the house into the sunshine and headed toward the twin apple trees in the backyard.

“You sit here,” she instructed her three youngest children, who’d accompanied her. She spread a blanket on the grass for them. “I’ll pick and give them to you to put in the basket. Ja?”

“Ja, Mam,” little Anne said as she sat down first and gestured for her brothers to join her.

Lizzie smiled. “You boys help your sister?” Jonas and Ezekiel nodded vigorously. “Goot boys!” she praised, and they beamed at her.

“What do you think we should make with these?” she said as she handed three apples to Jonas. “An apple pie? Apple crisp?”

“Candy apples!” Ezekiel exclaimed. He was three years old and the baby of the family, and he had learned recently about candy apples, having tasted one when they’d gone into town earlier this week.

Lizzie grinned as she bent to ruffle his hair. Ezekiel had taken off his small black-banded straw hat and set it on the blanket next to him. “Candy apples,” she said. “I can make those.”

The older children were nowhere in sight. Elizabeth’s husband, Abraham, had fallen from the barn loft to his death just over two months ago, and the family was still grieving. Lizzie had tears in her eyes as she reached up to pull a branch closer to pick the fruit. If only I hadn’t urged him to get the kittens down from the loft...

Tomorrow would have been their second wedding anniversary. She had married Abraham shortly after the children’s mother had passed, encouraged strongly by her mother to do so. She’d been seventeen years old at the time, but she’d been crippled her entire life.

“Abraham Fisher is a goot man, Lizzie,” she remembered her mother saying. “He needs a mother for his children and someone to care for his home. You should take his offer of marriage, for in your condition you may not get another one.”

My condition, Lizzie thought. She suffered from developmental hip dysplasia, and she walked with a noticeable limp that worsened after standing for long periods of time. But she was a hard worker and could carry the weight of her chores as well as the rest of the women in her Amish community.

Limping Lizzie, the children had called her when she was a child. There had been other names, including Duckie because of her duck-like gait, which was caused by a hip socket too shallow to keep in the femoral head, the ball at the top of her long leg bone. Most of the children didn’t mean to be cruel, but the names hurt just the same.

Lizzie had spent her young life proving that it didn’t matter that one leg was longer than the other; yet her mother had implied otherwise when she’d urged Lizzie to marry Abraham, a grieving widower with children.

Abraham had still been grieving for his first wife when he’d married her, but she’d accepted his grief along with the rest of the family’s. His children missed their mother. The oldest two girls, Mary Ruth and Hannah, resented Lizzie. The younger children had welcomed her, as they needed someone to hug and love them and be their mother. And they were too young to understand.

Mary Ruth, Abraham’s eldest, had been eleven at the time of her mother’s death, her sister Hannah almost ten. Both girls were angry with their mother for dying and angrier still at Lizzie for filling the void.

Lizzie picked several more apples, handing the children a number of them so that they would feel important as they placed them carefully in the basket.

“Can we eat one?” Anne asked.

“With your midday meal,” Lizzie said. She glanced up at the sky and noted the position of the sun, which was directly overhead. “Are you hungry?” All three youngsters nodded vigorously. She reached to pick up the basket, which was full and heavy. She didn’t let on that her leg ached as she straightened with the basket in hand. “Let’s get you something to eat, then.”

The children followed her into the large white farmhouse. When she entered through the back doorway, she saw the kitchen sink was filled with dirty dishes. She sighed as she set the basket on one end of the counter near the stove.

“Mary Ruth!” she called. “Hannah!” When there was no response, she called for them again. Matthew, who was eight, entered the kitchen from the front section of the house. “Have you seen your older sisters?” Lizzie asked him.

He shrugged. “Upstairs. Not sure what they’re doing.”

“Matt, are you hungry?” When the boy nodded, Lizzie said, “If you’ll go up and tell your sisters to come down, I’ll make you all something to eat.”

Jonas grabbed his older brother’s arm as Matt started to leave. “Mam’s going to make candy apples,” he said.

Matthew opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he glanced toward the basket of apples instead and smiled. “Sounds goot. I like candy apples.” Little Jonas grinned at him.

Matt left and then returned moments later, followed by his older sisters, Mary Ruth, Hannah and Rebecca, who had been upstairs in their room.

“You didn’t do the dishes,” Lizzie said to Mary Ruth.

The girl regarded her with a sullen expression. “I didn’t know it was my turn.”

“I’ll do them,” Rebecca said.

“That’s a nice offer, Rebecca,” Lizzie told her, “but ’tis Mary Ruth’s turn, so I think she should do it.” She smiled at the younger girl. “But you can help me make the candy apples later this afternoon after I hang the laundry.” She met Hannah’s gaze. “Did you strip the beds?”

Hannah nodded. “I put the linens near the washing machine.”

Lizzie smiled. “Danki, Hannah.” She heard Mary Ruth grumble beneath her breath. “Did you say something you’d like to share?” she asked softly.

“Nay,” Mary Ruth replied.

“I thought not.” She went to the refrigerator. “What would you like to eat?” Their main meal was usually at midday, but their schedule had differed occasionally since Abraham’s death because of the increase in her workload. Still, she had tried to keep life the same as much as possible.

“I can make them a meal,” Mary Ruth challenged. Lizzie turned, saw her defiant expression and then nodded. The girl was hurting. If Mary Ruth wanted to cook for her siblings, then why not let her? She had taught her to be careful when using the stove.

“That would be nice, Mary Ruth,” she said. “I’ll hang the clothes while you feed your brooders and sisters.” And she headed toward the back room where their gas-powered washing machine was kept, sensing that the young girl was startled. Lizzie retrieved a basket of wet garments and headed toward the clothesline outside.

The basket was only moderately heavy as she carried it to a spot directly below the rope. She felt comfortable leaving the children in the kitchen, for she could see inside through the screen door.

A soft autumn breeze stirred the air and felt good against her face. Lizzie bent, chose a wet shirt and pinned it on the line. She worked quickly and efficiently, her actions on the task but her gaze continually checking inside to see the children seated at the kitchen table.

“Elizabeth Fisher?” a man’s voice said, startling her.

Lizzie gasped and spun around. She hadn’t heard his approach from behind her. She’d known before turning that he was Amish as he had spoken in Deitsch, the language spoken within her community. Her eyes widened as she stared at him. The man wore a black-banded, wide-brimmed straw hat, a blue shirt and black pants held up by black suspenders. He looked like her deceased husband, Abraham, only younger and more handsome.

“You’re Zachariah,” she said breathlessly. Her heart picked up its beat as she watched him frown. “I’m Lizzie Fisher.”

* * *

Zachariah stared at the woman before him in stunned silence. She was his late brother’s widow? He’d been shocked to receive news of Abraham’s death, even more startled to learn the news from Elizabeth Fisher, who had identified herself in her letter as his late brother’s wife.

It had been years since he’d last visited Honeysuckle. He hadn’t known that Ruth had passed or that Abe had remarried. Why didn’t Abraham write and let us know?

“What happened to Ruth?” he demanded.

The woman’s lovely bright green eyes widened. “Your brooder didn’t write and tell you?” she said quietly. “Ruth passed away—over two years ago. A year after Ezekiel was born, she came down with the flu and...” She blinked. “She didn’t make it. Your brooder asked me to marry him shortly afterward.”

Zack narrowed his gaze as he examined her carefully. Dark auburn hair in slight disarray under her white head covering...eyes the color of the lawn after a summer rainstorm...pink lips that trembled as she gazed up at him. “You can’t be more than seventeen,” he accused.

The young woman lifted her chin. “Nineteen,” she stated stiffly. “I’ve been married to your brooder for two years.” She paused, looked away as if to hide tears. “It would have been two years tomorrow had he lived.”

Two years! Zack thought. The last time he’d received a letter from Abraham was when Abe had written the news of Ezekiel’s birth. His brother had never written again.

The contents of Lizzie’s letter when it had finally caught up to the family had shocked and upset them. Zack had made the immediate decision to come home to Honeysuckle to gauge the situation with the children and the property—and this new wife the family knew nothing about. His mother and sisters had agreed that he should go. With both Ruth and Abraham deceased, Zack thought that the time had come to reclaim what was rightfully his—the family farm.

He stood silently, watching as she pulled a garment from the wicker basket at her feet and tossed it over the line. He had trouble picturing Abraham married to this girl, although he could see why Abraham might have been attracted to her. But why would Lizzie choose to marry Abraham? He saw the difficulty her trembling fingers had securing the garment onto the clothesline properly. He fought back unwanted sympathy for her and won.

“You’re living here with the children,” he said. “Alone?”

“This is our home.” Lizzie faced him, a petite girl whose auburn hair suddenly appeared as if streaked with various shades of reds under the autumn sun. Her vivid green eyes and young innocent face made her seem vulnerable, but she must be a strong woman if she could manage all seven of his nieces and nephews—and stand defiantly before him as she was now without backing down. He felt a glimmer of admiration for her that quickly vanished with his next thought.

This woman and his brother were married almost two years. Did Lizzie and Abraham have a child together? He scowled as he glanced about the yard, then toward the house. He didn’t see or hear a baby, but then, the child could be napping inside. How did one ask a woman if she’d given birth without sounding offensive or rude? My brooder should have told me about her. Then I would know.

“I’m nearly done,” she said, averting her attention back to her laundry while he continued to watch her. She hung up the last item, a pillowcase. “Koom. We’re about to have our midday meal. Join us. You must have come a long way.” She bit her lip as she briefly met his gaze. “Where did you come from? I wasn’t sure where to send the letter. I didn’t know if you were still in Walnut Creek or Millersburg or if you’d moved again. I sent it to Millersburg because it was the last address I found among your brooder’s things.”

“We moved back to Walnut Creek two years ago—” He stopped. He wasn’t about to tell her about his mother’s illness or that he and his sister Esther had moved with Mam from Walnut Creek to Millersburg to be closer to the doctors treating their mother’s cancer. Mam was fine now, thank the Lord, and she would continue to do well as long as she took care of herself. Once his mother’s health had improved, they had picked up and moved back to Walnut Creek, where his two older sisters lived with their husbands and their families.

Zack had no idea how Lizzie’s letter had reached him. Their forwarding address had expired over a year ago, but someone who’d known them in Millersburg must have sent it on. He still couldn’t believe that Abraham was dead. His older brother had been only thirty-five years old. “What happened to my brooder?” She never mentioned in her letter how he’d died.

Lizzie went pale. “He fell,” she said in a choked voice, “from the barn loft.” He saw her hands clutch rhythmically at the hem of her apron. “He broke his neck and died instantly.”

Zack felt shaken by the mental image. He could see that she was sincerely distraught. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard.” He, too, felt the loss. It hurt to realize that he’d never see Abraham again. He thought of all the times when he was a child that he’d trailed after his older brother.

His death must have been quick and painless, he thought, trying to find some small measure of comfort. He studied the young woman who looked too young to be married or to raise Abe’s children.

“He was a goot man.” She didn’t look at him when she bent to pick up her basket then straightened. “Are you coming in?” she asked as she finally met his gaze.

He nodded and then followed her as she started toward the house. He was surprised to see her uneven gait as she walked ahead of him, as if she’d injured her leg and limped because of the pain. “Lizzie, are ya hurt?” he asked compassionately.

She halted, then faced him with her chin tilted high, her eyes less than warm. “I’m not hurt,” she said crisply. “I’m a cripple.” And with that, she turned away and continued toward the house, leaving him to follow her.

Zack studied her back with mixed feelings as he lagged behind. Concern. Worry. Uneasiness. He frowned as he watched her shift the laundry basket to one arm and struggle to open the door with the other. He stopped himself from helping, sensing that she wouldn’t be pleased. He frowned at her back. Could a crippled, young nineteen-year-old woman raise a passel of kinner alone?

* * *

Lizzie was aware of her husband’s brother behind her as she entered the house with the laundry basket. She flashed a glance toward the kitchen sink and was pleased to note that Mary Ruth had washed the dishes and left them to drain on a rack over a tea towel.

“Mary Ruth, would you set another plate?” she said. “We have a visitor.” She was relieved to note that her daughter had set a place for her.

Mary Ruth frowned but rose to obey. Lizzie stepped aside and the child caught sight of the man behind her. She paled as she stared at him, most probably noting the uncanny resemblance of Zachariah to her dead father.

“Dat?” she whispered. The girl shook her head, then drew a sharp breath. “Onkel Zachariah.”

Watching the exchange, Lizzie saw him smile. “Mary Ruth, you’ve grown over a foot since I last saw you,” he said.

Mary Ruth blinked back tears and looked as if she wanted to approach him but dared not. The Amish normally weren’t affectionate in public, but they were at home, and Lizzie knew that the child hadn’t seen her uncle in a long time.

To his credit, Zachariah extended his arms, and Mary Ruth ran into his embrace. Eyes closed, the man hugged his niece tightly, and Lizzie felt the emotion flowing from him in huge waves.

“Zachariah is your dat’s brother,” she explained to the younger children.

Chairs scraped over the wooden floor as they rose from their seats and eyed him curiously. Zachariah had released Mary Ruth and studied her with a smile. “You look like your mudder.”

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” Mary Ruth asked. She appeared pleased by the comparison to her mother.

“I didn’t get Lizzie’s letter until yesterday,” he admitted. “After reading it, I quickly made arrangements to come.”

Mary Ruth nodded as if she understood. “Sit down,” she told the children in a grown-up voice. “Onkel is going to eat with us. You’ll have time to talk with him at the dinner table.”

The kitchen was filled with the delicious scent of pot roast with potatoes, onions and carrots. Mary Ruth had heated the leftovers from the previous day in the oven, and she’d warmed the blueberry muffins that Lizzie had baked earlier this morning.

Her eldest daughter set a plate before Zachariah and then asked what he wanted to drink. Standing there, Lizzie saw a different child than the one she’d known since Lizzie had married Abe and moved into the household. It was a glimpse of how life could be, and Lizzie took hope from it.

After stowing the empty laundry basket in the back room, Lizzie joined everyone at the table. The platter of pot roast was passed to Zachariah, who took a helping before he extended it toward Lizzie. Thanking him with a nod, she took some meat and vegetables from the plate before asking the children if they wanted more.

Conversation flowed easily between the children and their uncle, and Lizzie listened quietly as she forked up a piece of beef and brought it to her mouth.

“Are ya truly my vadder’s brooder?” Rebecca asked.

“Look at him, Rebecca,” Hannah said. “Don’t ya see the family resemblance?”

Lizzie looked over in time to see Rebecca blush. She addressed her husband’s brother. “You haven’t visited Honeysuckle in a long time.”

Zachariah focused his dark eyes on her and she felt a jolt. “Ja. Not in years. My mudder moved my sisters and me to Ohio after Dat died. I was eleven.” He grabbed a warm muffin and broke it easily in half. “I came back for a visit once when Hannah was a toddler.” He smiled at Hannah as he spread butter on each muffin half. “It’s hard to believe how much you’ve grown. I remember you as this big.” He held his hand out to show her how tall.

Hannah smiled. “You knew my mam.”

He had taken a bite of muffin and he nodded as he chewed and swallowed it.

“How come we haven’t met you before?” Matthew asked with the spunk of a young boy. “You didn’t come for Mam’s funeral.”

“I didn’t know about your mudder’s passing,” Zachariah said softly. “I still wouldn’t have known if not for Lizzie. I wanted to come to see you and your family before now, but I couldn’t get away.” He glanced around the table. “Seven children,” he said with wonder. “I’m happy to see that your mudder and vadder were blessed with all of you.” He smiled and gazed at each child in turn. “How old are you?” he asked Ezekiel.

Ezekiel held up three fingers. “Such a big boy. You are the youngest?” He seemed to wait with bated breath for Zeke’s reply, and he smiled when his answer was the boy’s vigorous nod. He then guessed Anne’s and then Jonas’s ages and was off by just one year for Jonas, who was four.

“How long are you going to stay, Onkel Zachariah?” Rebecca asked.

“Zack,” he invited. He leaned forward and whispered, “Zachariah is too much of a mouthful with Onkel, ja?” Then he shot Lizzie a quick glance before answering his niece’s question. “I thought I’d stay for a while.” He took a second muffin. “The dawdi haus—is it empty?” he asked.

“Ja,” Mary Ruth said while Lizzie felt stunned as she anticipated where the conversation was headed. “’Tis always empty except when we have guests, which we haven’t had in a long time...”

“Goot,” he said. “Then you won’t mind if I move in—”

Lizzie gasped audibly. “But that wouldn’t be proper...” The thought of having him on the farm was disturbing.

She became unsettled when Zack put her in the center focus of his dark gaze. “I’ll send for my mudder—and my sister Esther,” he said easily. “The three of us can stay there comfortably.”

Dread washed over Lizzie. “But—”

“Not to worry, Lizzie Fisher.” He flashed her a friendly smile as he buttered the muffin. “I’ll head home and then accompany them back to Honeysuckle. I won’t be moving in without a chaperone.”

But that wasn’t all that concerned Lizzie. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he—they—would be staying. Why did he want to stay? She’d never met her mother-in-law or any of Abraham’s siblings. What if they didn’t like her? What if they judged her incapable of managing the farm and decided that she was no longer needed? Could she bear to be parted from her children? Because, in her heart, they were her children although she hadn’t given birth to them.

She had enjoyed a good life with Abraham. She’d worked hard to make the farmhouse a home for a grieving man and his children. And Abraham appreciated my efforts, she thought. Right before his death, she’d felt as if he’d begun to truly care for her.

“You don’t have to worry about us,” Lizzie said quietly as she watched him enjoy his food. “We are doing fine.” Her hands began to shake, and she placed them on her lap under the table so that he wouldn’t see. “There is no need to return. I know your life is in Ohio now.”

Zack waved her concerns aside. “You’ll be needing help at harvest time. It can’t be easy managing the farm and caring for Abraham’s children alone.”

Lizzie felt her stomach twist. Zack, like everyone else, thought her incapable of making it on her own, and he’d referred to the children as Abraham’s. She experienced a jolt of anger. Abraham’s children were her children, had been for two years now.

Then a new thought struck her with terror. Zack was the youngest Fisher son. Wouldn’t that make him the rightful heir to his family farm? If so, had he come to stake his claim?

Lizzie settled her hand against her belly as the burning there intensified and she felt nauseous. Was she going to lose her home and her family—the children she loved as her own?

She closed her eyes and silently prayed. Please, dear Lord, help me prove to Zack that I am worthy of being the children’s mudder. When she opened them again, she felt the impact of Zack’s regard. She was afraid what having him on the farm would do to her life, her peace of mind and her family.

Chapter Two

Zack had departed for Ohio the same day he’d arrived after making known his shocking intention of staying on the farm. After sharing their midday meal, he’d gone as quickly as he’d come with the promise to return, ready to move in with his mother and sister. Lizzie had no idea when he’d be back, but she and the children immediately went to work readying the dawdi haus the day after his departure. She would not have him feeling unwelcome.

“Did you hang up the sheets?” she asked Mary Ruth as the girl briefly entered the bedroom where Lizzie swept the wooden floor. She and Hannah had stayed home from school to help her get ready for Zachariah’s return.

“Ja,” her daughter said. “I did the quilts and blankets, too.”

Lizzie smiled. “That’s goot. We want to be ready for your uncle, ja?”

To her surprise, Mary Ruth grinned back at her. “Ja. It will be wonderful to have family here.”

Lizzie nodded in agreement with Mary Ruth, but as her daughter left for the other bedroom with dust cloth and homemade polish in hand, she wondered what the Fishers’ stay at the farm would mean for her and her future.

The cottage had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a combination great room and kitchen, and a pantry. A covered porch with two rocking chairs and a swing ran along the front outer wall of the dawdi haus. Lizzie had always liked the little house and the comfort it offered guests and the grosseldre, or grandparents, for whom it must have been built.

Hannah and Rebecca entered the largest bedroom, where Lizzie continued to clean and prepare for their expected guests. “I wiped inside the kitchen cabinets and the countertops, Lizzie,” Hannah said.

“And what about the pantry?”

“I helped Hannah carry all the jars you said to bring,” Rebecca said. “Want to see?” There was an air of excitement among the sisters.

Lizzie studied the two happy girls and smiled. “Ja, show me.” She followed Hannah and Rebecca through the great area to the kitchen nook on the other side.

“Mam,” young Anne said. “Look how nice they are!”

The jars of tomatoes, sweet-and-sour chow-chow, peaches and jam appeared colorful on the clean pantry shelves. “You girls have been working hard.” Lizzie smiled. “Danki.” She looked about and didn’t see the two youngest. “Where are Jonas and Ezekiel?” she asked with concern.

“Outside with Matt,” Mary Ruth said as she approached from the other bedroom across the hall from where Lizzie had been working.

Anne nodded. “They are pulling out weeds and dead things from the flower garden.”

No doubt the boys were working, as per her instructions, to clear out the dried rudbeckia blossoms and stems. The flowers also known as black-eyed Susans created a beautiful display of bright color from late spring to mid-or late summer, but in the fall, seeds from the dead centers had to be spread across the soil to ensure next year’s glorious display of gold and black.

“You have all worked hard on these today. I appreciate it. I couldn’t have prepared the cottage without you.” Lizzie noted with pleasure the smile on Mary Ruth’s face.

“Is there anything else we need to do?” the girl asked.

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow for supplies,” Lizzie said. “And we can bake bread, put some in the pantry and freeze a few loaves for them. They are welcome to eat at the farmhouse anytime, but they may want to take some of their meals here in the dawdi haus.”

“Ja,” Hannah said. “It’s a nice haus. It will be goot to see someone living in it.”

Lizzie hoped so. “It’s been a long morning without a break to eat. Are any of you hungry?”

“Ja!” the girls cried.

Matt entered the house with his younger brothers. “Ja,” he said, apparently hearing the last of Lizzie’s words. “We’re hungry. What’s to eat?”

Lizzie thought for a moment. “What would you like? Hard work deserves a special meal.”

“Pizza!” the youngest ones cried.

“Pizza,” Lizzie said with surprise and a little dismay. Money was tight, but she could make a crust from scratch, and she did have jars of tomato sauce she’d canned earlier in the summer. She could make her own pizza sauce and top it with whatever cheese she had in the refrigerator, fresh green peppers and onions. She could make a second pizza with just the cheese for the youngsters who wanted their pizza plain. “Pizza it is,” she said with a smile. “And then afterward, why don’t I make those candy apples I promised yesterday.” The children wholeheartedly agreed to the plan.

As she and the children left the dawdi haus and headed toward the farmhouse, Lizzie felt as if they were a family for the first time since the tragic loss of her husband—their father. She experienced a lightening of spirit and hope for the family’s future.

* * *

Later that night after the children were in bed, Lizzie went up to her bedroom, the room she’d shared with Abraham, and stared at the bed. Sleep hadn’t come easy to her since Abraham’s passing. Last night the worry over her late husband’s family moving into the dawdi haus had caused her to fret into the early morning until, exhausted, she’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep not long before she had to get up to begin her day again.

She had a mental image of Zack as she’d first seen him. He looked like a young Abraham, only with dark hair and more handsome features. Not that her husband hadn’t been good-looking. He had been, but she hadn’t noticed that at first. She had married him at a time that had been difficult for everyone, a time of mourning for him and the children, a time of concern that she might have made a mistake in agreeing to the marriage.

But we found our way, Lizzie thought as she moved across the room. Time had healed Abraham’s grief and his gaze had lost the sadness. Then he had begun to appreciate everything that she had done for the family—taking care of the house, doing the wash, loving his children.

They had married as strangers—he’d needed someone to care for his children after his wife had died, and she’d needed a life of her own.

During the first months of her marriage to Abraham, she had slept in the sewing room after quilting long into the night. She had produced some beautiful quilts by their first anniversary, when Abraham had invited her to sleep in the master bedroom. Afterward she had worked on her quilts in the evening instead, with Abraham seated nearby in his favorite chair while the children had played cards or read stories.

Since Abraham’s death, she had gone back to quilting through most of the night until she’d fall into bed exhausted and sleep only to awaken early to begin her chore-filled days. She enjoyed quilting and everyone complimented her on her handiwork. She had recently sold one of her quilts at Beachey’s Craft Shop, the money coming in at a time when they needed it. Ellen Beachey, the shopkeeper, had been gracious in taking her quilts and craft items so that she could earn much-needed cash.

She crossed to the sewing room off the bedroom and picked up one of her colorful quilt squares. Her mind reeled with emotion as she went to work. As she began to make tiny, even stitches in the fabric, she thought of Abraham and the children and how difficult their father’s death had been for them, how hard it had been to lose their mother two years earlier. They were wonderful children, and she loved them.

Would having Zack and his family here help her relationship with the children or hinder it?

She paused, closed her eyes and prayed. Please, Lord, help us to become a family. Don’t let me lose everything I gained when I married Abraham. A family. A home. Children who needed her.

Mary Ruth’s and Hannah’s sweet behavior would have made her feel at peace, if not for the knowledge that Zack would return soon and disturb the life she’d made for herself with the children.

Ah, Abraham, I’m sorry. ’Twas my fault that you’re no longer with us.

Tears filled her eyes as she plied needle to cloth in tiny, even stitches. She recalled her husband’s face and his eyes, which had eventually looked at her with more than kindness, with caring that had turned into love. In the months before he died, Abraham had begun to see her as a wife rather than a housekeeper and helpmate.

She sniffed as she set down her sewing and rose. She was tired. She undressed by candlelight, carefully removing the straight pins securing her dress, and got ready for bed. She brushed her hair, recalling with a smile when she’d brushed out her youngest daughter’s hair earlier.

Her hip ached and she reached for the menthol and camphor salve to rub on the sore and swollen joint. The scent was strong, but she was used to it, welcomed it because any little pain relief was worth it. She could take aspirin or ibuprofen, but she’d used so much of it recently, she decided it was best to save it for when the pain became unbearable without it.

She moved toward the bed, pulled back the quilt and climbed onto the mattress. She heard a gentle knock on her bedroom door. “Ja?”

“Mam?” The door swung open, and her youngest daughter, Anne, peeked inside, holding a flashlight.

“Anne,” Lizzie murmured. She waved her in. “What’s wrong?”

Her daughter approached the bed. “Mam, do you think our grossmama will like us?”

Lizzie smiled reassuringly. “She will love you,” she said, believing it to be true. “You are her granddaughter. All of you children are her grandchildren. Why wouldn’t she love you? Love all of her kins kinner?”

Annie tilted her head as she regarded her with unusually grown-up eyes. “Will she love you, too?”

Lizzie smiled, unable to assure her when she didn’t know. “You are worrying too much, Anne. They will come and all will be well.”

The child smiled. “I am glad. I want us all to be happy together. It is time for us—you—to be happy.”

Lizzie reached for the girl’s hand, pulled her close. “I am happy,” she said sincerely. “You and your sisters and brooders make me very happy.”

“Even though Mary Ruth can be sharp to you?”

She nodded. “Ja, no matter what. I am happy with you all, and I love you.”

Anne grinned and leaned over to hug her. “I love you, Mam.”

Lizzie closed her eyes as she held on to her daughter. “I love you. You all are everything a mudder could ask for and more.” She released her child to pat her cheek. “Now run off to bed. We’ve a busy day tomorrow.”

Annie nodded vigorously and spun to race out of the room, pausing on the threshold to glance back at Lizzie. “Danki.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows in question.

“For being my mam,” Anne explained before she hurried on and shut the door behind her.

Lizzie blinked against happy tears as she leaned to blow out the candle. As the room plunged into darkness, she relaxed and lay back against her pillow. She felt sleepy and hopeful for the first time in a long while.

* * *

The next morning she was up and ready to begin her day. Now that the dawdi haus was prepared for guests, she needed to clean the farmhouse. She made breakfast first, and soon the children joined her in the kitchen, ready to eat. Lizzie beamed at them as they sat down.

“Hungry?” she asked. “I made pancakes, bacon, sausage and eggs.”

“It looks goot,” Hannah said.

“It tastes goot.” Matt had grabbed a piece of bacon and popped it into his mouth.

“Matthew, mind your manners and put some on your plate.”

“Ja, Lizzie.” Matt nodded, looking solemn, and then he grinned.

Lizzie laughed; she couldn’t help it. The boy was looking at her with such delight that the pure joy of the moment deeply touched her. It was nice to hear laughter in the house again.

Her older children helped the younger ones get their food. Lizzie watched with fondness as Rebecca cut up little Jonas’s pancakes for him.

This is what family is about, she thought. Had she ever felt so lighthearted when she was a girl? She couldn’t recall laughing at the dinner table. Her mother had treated her differently than her siblings because of her disability. It was as if she’d been unable to accept that her daughter wasn’t perfect.

“Anne, be careful with your milk,” Lizzie warned without anger.

Anne set her glass down and smiled at her with milk-mustached lips. “When do ya think Onkel will be here?” she asked.

“Onkel Zack,” Hannah corrected.

Lizzie sat down and filled her plate. “I don’t know. Surely by next week.”

“What else must we do to be ready for him?” Hannah asked.

Lizzie looked at her fondly. “I thought we should clean our haus next. We wouldn’t want Onkel Zack, Grossmama and Endie Esther to see a dirty haus, would we?”

“Nay!” the children chorused. The family teased each other as they ate breakfast, and when they were done, Lizzie and her daughters rose and tackled the kitchen first before moving on to clean the rest of the house. She sent the boys outside to make sure that there were no sticks in the yard and the porch was free of any balls and play items. She’d asked Matt to check the honeysuckle bush near her vegetable garden to see if it needed to be pruned back.

Later that afternoon when the children were at the kitchen table enjoying a snack, Lizzie heard a car in the barnyard. She hurried toward the door in time to see Zachariah Fisher climb out of the front passenger side of the vehicle and then reach to open the back door. A woman alighted as Zack went to the trunk and waited while the driver met him. The Englisher lifted out two suitcases and set them on the ground.

She saw Zack exchange words with the driver. Then he and the woman approached the house. Lizzie stepped out onto the porch to meet them. She heard the children behind her, chatting happily after seeing who had returned.

Lizzie was startled to see him. She hadn’t expected him back so soon. His gaze locked with hers as he drew closer. Her heart started to pound hard.

Chapter Three

He inclined his head. “Lizzie.”

She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “Zack.”

He drew the woman forward. Lizzie saw that she was older than Zachariah but not enough to be his mother. “This is—”

“Esther,” Lizzie said with a smile. “Your schweschter.” She was pleased to note Zack’s surprise when she’d addressed his sister by name. “We’re glad you could come and stay with us.”

Esther’s gaze warmed. “And you’re Lizzie.”

Lizzie nodded. “Are you hungry? May I offer you a snack to hold you until supper? There are cookies and apple crisp. The cottage is ready for you. I believe you’ll be comfortable there.”

“We all helped to fix it up for you,” Rebecca said as she joined Lizzie on the front porch.

Mary Ruth and the rest of the children stepped out of the house and gathered behind Lizzie and Rebecca. Anne and Matt stood behind them, inside the door.

Esther smiled. “Hallo. So you are Abraham’s children. My nieces and nephews.”

Rebecca stepped forward. “Would you like to come in? Matt can put your luggage in the dawdi haus for you,” she told her aunt. She glanced at her brother and, understanding, Matt came out of the house and approached.

“Danki. I wouldn’t mind coming in for a bit,” Esther agreed.

Zack captured Lizzie’s gaze as he handed Matt a suitcase and picked up the other one. Her heart gave a little jump before it started to beat normally again. “I’ll go with Matt,” he said. “We’ll be right back.”

Esther nodded before she followed Lizzie and the children into the farmhouse. Once inside, she paused to study her surroundings. “Everything is the same, but different,” she said.

Lizzie understood. She hadn’t given much thought to the fact that Esther, Abraham and the rest of their siblings had lived here with their parents before their father’s passing. As they continued through the house and into the kitchen, Zack’s sister smiled appreciatively. “It smells wonderful in here.”

Hannah smiled. “We baked today. Would you like some apple crisp?”

Esther shook her head. “We stopped to eat on the way.”

“Tea?”

At Lizzie’s invitation, Esther sat down at the kitchen table. “Ja, that sounds goot.”

Lizzie studied her sister-in-law. Esther Fisher was a tall, attractive woman with warmth in her brown gaze and soft pretty laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and near her mouth. She wore a black traveling bonnet and a blue dress with black cape and apron. Her features were kind and full of character, and Lizzie immediately felt comfortable in her presence. She thought that she and Esther might become good friends once they got to know each other.

* * *

Memories assailed Zack as he entered the dawdi haus. His grandparents had lived here when he was a young child. They had passed on when he was seven in a terrible accident. A drunk driver had slammed his car head-on into their small open buggy as his grandfather drove Grossmudder and himself to Sunday service. That he and his family were in the buggy several yards in front of his grosseldre’s vehicle saved their lives, but Zack had gotten a good view of the awful scene. It had been a traumatic experience for everyone but most especially Zack.

As he followed his nephew through the house and into a bedroom, he noted slight changes to the cottage. There was no sign that his grosseldre had lived there. He sighed silently with relief as he set his suitcase in the closest bedroom and then followed Matt into the next room, where his sister would stay.

“Lizzie and the girls made up the beds and put stuff in the kitchen for you,” Matthew told him. “They stocked the pantry and the freezer, but Lizzie said that you are willkomm to eat with us. She wanted you to have food in case you got hungry or didn’t feel like coming over.”

Zack studied the boy and nodded. “That is kind of her.” He examined Esther’s room, pleased how clean and comfortable it appeared. A lingering scent of lemon oil intermingled with the fresh air gently billowing the white window curtains. A quilt in soft blues, greens and cream covered the double bed.

“Lizzie made the quilt,” Matthew said after apparently noting the direction of Zack’s gaze. “She quilts a lot and makes wonderful things. She sells her quilts at Beachey’s Craft Shop.”

Zack couldn’t help but admire the bedcover. The pattern and colors were striking, but plain enough to be used within their Amish community. He walked to the bed and ran a hand over the soft cotton in solid colors. “Beachey,” he murmured. “Ellen Beachey’s family?”

When his nephew nodded, Zack smiled. “They’ve owned the shop since Ellen was a child.” He felt a softening inside at the memory of Ellen Beachey, remembering her as a young feisty girl. She was older than him by about ten years, pretty, but she’d been a handful to her parents, although she’d been respectful to the church and the folks within Honeysuckle. He remembered that she and Neziah Shetler had been sweethearts, but by the time he’d returned home for a visit, the couple had broken up. He wondered whom she finally married.

“Do you know she has a bright lime-green push scooter?” Matt said. “She rides it down the hill from her house to the main road and uses it to ride to the craft store.”

Zack chuckled. “That sounds like Ellen.” He envisioned her flying down the hill, her prayer kapp barely held on by bobby pins, her eyes bright with excitement. Following his nephew into the kitchen, he listened as the boy showed him the contents of the food pantry. “Ellen still works at the store, then,” he murmured after he’d nodded approvingly at his food stock.

“Ja.” Matt closed the pantry door and faced him. “We’re glad you’re here,” the boy said. His expression became solemn. “We miss Dat.”

Zack understood. “I haven’t seen your vadder in a long time. I regret that I won’t have the chance to see or talk with him again.” He felt a keen sense of loss, but somehow, for his nephew’s sake, he managed to smile. “But he is with Gott, and so is your mudder.”

“You knew my mam?” The boy seemed eager to hear more about his parents.

“Ja. Ruth and your dat were married before my vadder— your grossdaddi—passed and we moved away.” Zack recalled how difficult it had been for them, especially his mother, who’d loved her husband deeply and felt the terrible loss. When his father had died, his mother hadn’t wanted to stay on the farm. She had moved with her younger children to Ohio to live near his eldest married sister, Miriam, who lived with her husband and children in Walnut Creek. His older brother, Abraham, had remained behind to run the family farm and build a life with his new wife, Ruth.

“We miss Mam, too,” Matt said as they walked together out of the house and across the yard.

“She and your dat loved each other.” Zack noted the boy’s features so like his brother’s. “You favor your vadder.”

“I do?” Matt appeared pleased by the thought.

“Ja. You’ve got his eyes, yet you have a bit of your mam, too.”

Matt blinked. “I— Danki.” The whispered word held a wealth of meaning and gratitude.

“Let’s go back to the haus. Lizzie and your endie Esther will be wondering why it’s taken us so long.”

Matt picked up his pace, and Zack followed, glad he had decided to return to Honeysuckle, if only to get to know his brother’s children.

Zack pulled the screen door open and waited for Matt to enter first. He noted the difference in the gathering room as he headed toward the kitchen and the sound of laughter coming from the rear of the house. As he entered, he saw his oldest niece, Mary Ruth, chuckling at her little brother Ezekiel, who was grinning from ear to ear as the three-year-old put forkfuls of apple crisp into his mouth. “Ezekiel, slow down,” his sister Hannah warned, “or it will choke you.”

The boy stopped for a moment and blinked up at her. “But it tastes goot, and I’m hungry.”

“Zeke,” Zack heard Lizzie say quietly, “your sister is right. If you aren’t careful, you will choke and hurt yourself. If you take your time, you will enjoy it more.”

Zack watched with surprise as the little boy nodded and grinned in Lizzie’s direction. “Ja, Mam,” he said, and then he began to eat more slowly, chewing his food thoroughly before swallowing. His brother’s widow smiled at the child with affection, clearly pleased by his obedience.

Lizzie looked up then as if sensing a presence, saw him in the doorway and stood. “Zack,” she said, her expression becoming shuttered. “May I get you something to eat? Some apple crisp—”

“It’s goot, Onkel Zack!” little Ezekiel told him with a mouthful of the treat and a grin.

Zack shook his head. “We ate ourselves full on the way here.”

“’Tis delicious.” Mary Ruth smiled as she held up the plate as if enticing him to try it.

He had the sudden urge to grin. “Hmm. May we take two pieces to eat later?”

“Ja. I’ll wrap them up for you.” Lizzie cut two slices of the apple treat, set them on a plate and covered it with plastic wrap. She placed the dish within his easy reach. “Is everything in the cottage all right?” she asked almost shyly, referring to the dawdi haus. She sat down and cradled her teacup with her hands.

“Ja. It looks goot. We’ll be most comfortable there.” He saw that she looked satisfied. As he sat and waited for his sister to finish her tea, Zack studied his late brother’s wife. Dressed in a light blue dress with a full-length black apron, Lizzie was stunning. Her dark red hair had been rolled in the Amish way and tucked beneath her white head covering without a single strand out of place. Her green eyes appeared large in her pretty feminine face; her nose was well shaped and small, her lips pink and full. Despite her young age and obvious handicap, he could see why his brother had chosen to make her his bride. He looked away, startled by the direction of his thoughts.

“We should get settled in,” he said.

Esther agreed. “Ja. The tea was goot.” She stood and picked up the plate of apple crisp. “We will eat this later.”

Zack rose and nodded his thanks. “We will see you tomorrow,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

Lizzie stood. “Don’t hesitate to tell us if you need anything.”

He followed Esther through the back door of the farmhouse and sensed Lizzie’s presence as he stepped outside. He turned to see her standing in the open doorway. She locked gazes with him. He felt a tightening in his chest before she broke eye contact. The children pushed by her and stood in the yard watching as he continued to the dawdi haus behind his sister.

“Onkel Zack!” a young voice cried. Zack turned to face his young nephew Jonas. “Do you know how to play baseball?” the boy asked.

Zack smiled. “Ja, I used to play.” But it had been years ago, when all of his family had been alive and living in the farmhouse.

“Will you play with us sometime?” Jonas asked with hope in his eyes. “Next visiting Sunday?”

“Jonas,” he heard Lizzie say softly. “Don’t be pestering your onkel.”

He didn’t know why, but the woman’s words bothered him. “I’ll play ball with you,” he said, his gaze rising to Lizzie’s face, “come next visiting Sunday.” His tone and words were letting her know that he had no plans to leave the farm anytime soon. When he saw her blanch, he realized that she’d gotten his message, and he suddenly regretted it.

His attention went to the young boy whose eyes glistened with excitement. Jonas wore a big smile on his face. Zack flashed him a grin. He heard a little catch in someone’s breath and turned to discover that it had been Lizzie.

He’d come to the farm to see how his brother’s widow and children were managing and to claim his inheritance. If Abraham had been alive, he would have stayed in Ohio, knowing that the farm was in his brother’s capable hands. He would have forgotten that his father had intended him to have the farm. But after learning that Ruth and Abraham were dead, Zack had decided the time had come to step in and take back what was rightfully his. Lizzie Fisher, his brother’s widow, was a stranger to him and no blood relation to his nieces and nephews. He’d decided that he couldn’t allow her to keep his brother’s children or the farm.

But now, after meeting her and seeing the way Lizzie interacted with the children, he was beginning to rethink the situation. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he’d figure out something. The children loved Lizzie, he realized as he crossed the yard toward the dawdi haus. Somehow he must consider what was in the best interests of the children as well as the farm property.

Zack sighed as he reached the cottage and held the door open for Esther. He would pray to the Lord that he would choose right for everyone. Complications, he thought. He hadn’t expected this many of them.

Chapter Four

Lizzie woke up feeling ill. I overdid it this week, she realized. All the hard work she’d accomplished on the farm these past few days had aggravated her hip, and the resulting pain made her nauseous.

She’d been sick a lot since Abraham had passed on and she’d felt the stress of managing everything alone. Ever since Zack’s first visit, she’d been afraid. Her fears had intensified after his departure. Now that he was back, she wondered if he was silently making decisions that would impact her life with the children. If he chose to claim the farm, what would happen to them? Could she somehow stop him? Would the fact that he hadn’t come forward before now work in her favor?

Lizzie frowned. The children were Zack’s family and had the right to live on the farm with him. It was she who had no blood ties. She’d married Abraham, it was true, but for most of their married life, she hadn’t been a real wife...until the night before Abraham’s fatal accident, when they finally had consummated their marriage. Lizzie had been so happy that night because she’d realized then that her husband had begun to care for her as a wife instead of just a housekeeper and babysitter. If Abraham had lived, she thought, we might have had children together.

Children. Lizzie gasped. I’ve missed one month. She’d missed a month before. Her woman’s flow was often irregular. She wasn’t sure why, but skipping a period happened to her on occasion. Since Abraham’s death, she’d been so busy caring for the children and the farm that she hadn’t noticed until now.

She rose from bed. It was early; the children were asleep, but it wouldn’t be long before they stirred, ready for breakfast.

A baby. She would love nothing more than to give birth to Abraham’s child, to have his baby son or daughter. The child would be a legitimate and accepted member of the Fisher family. My child would cement the bond between the Fishers and me.

Her Amish church community accepted her right to the farm as the children’s stepmother and Abraham’s widow. But did Zack agree?

Lizzie settled a hand on her abdomen. A baby. She silently counted the days since Abraham’s death. Within the next day or so, she would know for certain. Somehow she just knew she was carrying her late husband’s son or daughter. But she would not tell anyone yet. She would save the news for the right moment. She couldn’t allow herself to become too excited at the prospect until she was sure. But how could she not be hopeful? She would love to give the children a new baby brother or sister to love, the child of their deceased father. Perhaps Mary Ruth and Hannah would finally accept her.

A door squeaked as if it was being closed carefully. Then she heard the sound of someone moving about in the hall. Lizzie grabbed the flashlight from her bed table and turned it on. She then hurriedly donned a robe over her nightgown before, with light in hand, she peeked into the hall.

“Anne,” she whispered as the light fell on the child outside her bedroom door. “Are your sisters up?”

Anne shook her head. The five-year-old wore her nightgown and carried her clothes as if she intended to dress downstairs.

Lizzie waved her into the room. “Koom. I’ll help you get dressed and do your hair.”

Annie smiled and hurried into the room that had once belonged to Lizzie and Abraham.

Lizzie lit an oil lamp, turned off the flashlight and then helped Anne out of her nightgown and into her day clothes. Then she reached for a brush and comb. First, she brushed her daughter’s long golden locks. Then she combed, rolled and pinned the roll against Annie’s head in the Amish way. Lizzie smiled as she worked. She enjoyed fixing the girl’s hair; the simple action of brushing her daughter’s hair soothed her.

“Why are you up so early?” she asked softly. There was barely a hint of dawn in the eastern sky.

“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Finished, Lizzie stepped back and turned Anne to face her. “Is something upsetting you?”

Annie was quiet for a moment. “Mam, will Onkel Zack marry you and stay with us forever?”

Lizzie froze in shock. “I— Nay, dochter. I don’t know your onkel that well and he doesn’t know me.”

“But you can get to know and love each other.” Annie gazed at her as Lizzie placed a prayer kapp on the child’s head. “It is possible.”

Lizzie worded her reply carefully. “I suppose it’s possible, Anne,” she said, pausing before continuing, “but unlikely.”

“You miss Dat.”

Lizzie nodded. “Your vadder was a goot man and a wonderful husband.”

“You didn’t know him well when you married him.”

Lizzie swallowed before answering. “What gave you that idea?”

Annie reached up to lovingly pat Lizzie’s cheek. “I heard Mary Ruth and Hannah talking.”

Lizzie felt dismayed. She could only imagine what the two girls had said. “I was happy to marry your vadder because then his seven children—all of you—became mine. I love you all as if I had given birth to you.”

“I remember when Ezekiel was born.” Annie shifted to sit beside Lizzie on her bed. “Mam didn’t feel well, and I heard her crying and screaming. I was afraid.”

“I’m sure it seemed worse than it was, Anne. Giving birth is a natural thing. Ja, it hurts a mudder as it happens, but then the birth is a joyous thing, and she forgets all about the pain.”

“Mam didn’t,” Annie said, startling Lizzie with her words. “She wasn’t happy after Ezekiel was born. She cried a lot and Dat tried to make her feel better, but she didn’t listen.” Annie looked at Lizzie with confusion. “Why didn’t Mam love us anymore?”

“What?” Lizzie said, taken aback by the child’s revelation. “I’m sure that your mam must have loved you very much.”

Annie blinked back tears.

“Nay. Mam didn’t want us anymore. I heard her telling Dat.”

“She was probably tired and upset. I doubt she meant it.” Lizzie placed an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “I’m sure your mam loved you just as your dat did.” Annie had overheard things that her mother never should have said. It upset Lizzie to realize that Annie was still hurt by the memory. Some women suffered depression after giving birth. They couldn’t enjoy life or their babies. Was that the way it had been with Abraham’s first wife?

“I miss Dat.”

Lizzie nodded. “I know you do,” she whispered. “So do I.”

“Onkel Zack looks like Dat, only his hair is dark and he is younger.”

Lizzie had noticed and told her so. It hurt her to know that Anne had suffered. She hugged her, put on a happy face and said, “Now, we should go downstairs to fix breakfast. Would you like to help make waffles?”

Annie nodded enthusiastically. “Ja, I like helping in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get dressed and then we’ll go downstairs. I need to feed the animals first. Will you set the table while I’m outside?”

Annie agreed, and soon Lizzie and Annie went silently down the stairs to the kitchen. Lizzie took out the plates, napkins and utensils and gave them to Anne. Then she left the house and crossed the yard. She reached the barn as Zack was leaving it.

“Zack!” she gasped, startled.

“Lizzie.”

“Is there something I can help you with? I’ve come to feed the animals and do the milking,” she said.

“The animals have been fed.” Zack studied her intently. “And your cows have been milked.” He held up the bucket of milk she hadn’t noticed previously.

“You did my chores?” she said politely, but she was silently outraged.

“I thought I’d help with the chores while I am here,” he said. “You have enough to do caring for the children.”

“I’ve been doing just fine since your brooder died,” she told him. “And I’ve been managing well.”

“Ja.” His voice was quiet as he narrowed his gaze on her. “But it’s time someone helps you with the burden.”

Lizzie stiffened. “I don’t consider the children or this farm a burden.”

He nodded, looking thoughtful. “I don’t suppose you do. But I’d like to work as long as I am staying here. Is that a problem? What would you have me do all day, if not help with the farm chores?”

Lizzie opened her mouth to respond and then promptly shut it. She sighed. She understood how he felt. “Fine. You may help.”

His lips twitched. “Goot.”

“’Tis not because I can’t do it,” she pointed out quickly.

Amusement gleamed in his dark eyes. “I never said it was.”

Lizzie felt satisfied. She would try not to feel threatened just because he needed something to do.

“Will you and Esther come for breakfast? The children should be awake soon. Please join us.”

He seemed to think for a minute as his gaze went toward the dawdi haus. “I don’t believe Esther has eaten yet.”

“I’ll set places for you.” And she left, her composure shaken by her confrontation with Zack.

Lizzie headed toward the house, her thoughts spinning in her head. Having the Fisher siblings on the property disturbed her peace of mind and threatened her place within this family. She shouldn’t be alarmed if her brother-in-law wanted to do farm chores. Zack hadn’t come out and said that he was here to take over the farm. Perhaps she should confront him and learn the truth? But what if in the asking, I give him the idea he never had? Do I really want to know? Or must I first convince him that I can manage without help before he’ll stop worrying and return to Ohio?

Lizzie entered the house to find that Annie had set the table, and Mary Ruth, Hannah and Rebecca had come downstairs to help with breakfast. The girls looked over as she entered the room with a smile.

“I’ll be making waffles this morning,” she told Mary Ruth. “Would you like some?” Mary Ruth was slow to answer, and Lizzie added, “Your onkel and endie will be eating with us.”

Her eldest daughter looked pleased. “I’ll get the butter and syrup.”

“I’ll help with batter,” Hannah said.

Lizzie shot her a look of apology. “I promised Anne that she could help.”

Hannah looked at Anne, who appeared as if she would cry if someone took away her job of batter making. She appeared to understand. “Can we have muffins, too? Onkel Zack likes your muffins. I can open a new jar of your strawberry jam.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Hannah,” Lizzie said.

Soon, each of the girls had a special job to do to help in preparing breakfast for their aunt and uncle. Matthew and the two young boys, Jonas and Ezekiel, entered the kitchen minutes later. “It smells goot in here,” Matt said.

Lizzie, who was showing Anne how to stir the batter, glanced over her shoulder. “Zack and Esther are joining us.”

Looking pleased, Matt asked what he could do to help.

As the kitchen filled with activity of her and the children working together, Lizzie felt grateful. If nothing else, Zack’s visit had brought the family together to work without sadness, sulking or anger.

Zack and Esther arrived for breakfast, and everyone sat at the large kitchen trestle table. Lizzie, with Esther’s help, set out the waffles and other breakfast items.

“Waffles!” Zack exclaimed with pleasure as Lizzie handed him a plateful.

“You like waffles, Onkel Zack?” Annie asked.

Zack grinned at her. “Ja.” He took a bite. “These waffles taste especially goot.”

Lizzie watched her daughter beam and felt grateful to Zack for making Anne happy. He looked over and winked at her, and she couldn’t help grinning back at him. He had known that Anne had helped with the batter, and he’d wanted her to feel special.

Zack Fisher is charming. If she weren’t worried about his motives, it would be very easy to fall under his charm. She wondered how it would have been if they’d met at another time and under different circumstances. She frowned. She had to stop thinking of such things. Having such thoughts was disloyal to Abraham and to herself.

The children were excited to eat with their aunt and uncle. They chattered nonstop, especially Matt, Hannah and Rebecca, who debated the merits of waffles with maple syrup versus waffles with warm, sautéed apples.

“I like warm cinnamon apples best,” Hannah declared.

“Nay, there is nothing like goot maple syrup,” Matt insisted. “Don’t ya think, Onkel Zack?”

Zack laughed. “Don’t ask me. I like them both ways. I’m not partial to either one. I like mine with honey, too.”

A discussion ensued then on the merits of honey versus maple syrup.

Mary Ruth was quiet, Lizzie noticed, but when she caught her eldest daughter’s gaze, the girl smiled at her warmly and Lizzie realized that Mary Ruth was simply content to happily observe her brothers and sisters with their aunt and uncle. The atmosphere was one of a big happy family, and it was at times such as this that she felt glad that Zack and Esther had returned to Honeysuckle.

When they had finished their breakfast, the older girls left to do their assigned chores. Soon they would return to the kitchen to help prepare food for the next day. The youngest boys scampered outside with Lizzie’s permission to enjoy a few moments in the sun under Matthew’s watchful eye. Zack excused himself to check on something in the barn. Lizzie watched him go, wondering what needed his attention.

“Tomorrow is church Sunday,” Esther said after she and Lizzie had enjoyed a few quiet moments at the table. She began to gather up the empty breakfast dishes.

“Ja,” Lizzie said as she rose to help. “’Tis to be held at the Thomas Stoltzfus farm.” She gathered tea and coffee cups along with the children’s milk glasses. “Do you know them? Thomas and Marybeth Stoltzfus?”

Esther thought a moment. “Their names are familiar but I can’t place faces on them.”

“You’ll have a chance to visit with them after church tomorrow.” Lizzie filled up a basin with sudsy water and began washing the dishes. Esther joined her at the sink with a dish towel and began to dry.

Zack peeked his head back into the kitchen, startling both women. “Isn’t it church Sunday tomorrow?” he asked.

“Ja,” his sister said. “We were just discussing this. Lizzie said it’s to be held at the Thomas Stoltzfuses’. Do you remember them?”

Zack shook his head. “But it’s been years. Seeing them may jog my memory.”

“Do you need anything?” Lizzie asked, wondering again what he’d been doing in the barn and now why he’d returned.

“Nay, I just came to check on tomorrow. I’ll have the buggy ready in the morning,” he said.

As he left again, Lizzie stifled a frown and went back to work. It wouldn’t do to give her thoughts away to Esther...that she was beginning to feel as if he were taking over the farm without telling her. She had to talk with her brother-in-law soon. The uncertainty, the fear, was eating her alive, and besides, she had something on her side now...the tiny baby growing inside her.

* * *

The morning dawned bright and clear as Lizzie made sure all the children were ready in time for Sunday service. She gathered up the desserts she’d made for the shared meal afterward and went outside to set them in the buggy. Zack and Esther were already outside waiting for her and the children near the vehicle. When he smiled at her, Lizzie felt a funny feeling in her chest.

“Goot morning.” Matt ran ahead and grinned at Zack, whose lips curved upward in response.

Lizzie inclined her head in greeting as she approached, carrying two pie plates. Zack surprised her when he reached for her plates and stowed them on the floor in the front seat. The children climbed into the back of the buggy that had been built specifically for Abraham’s growing family after Jonas was born. Dressed in their Sunday best, the girls wore black full-length aprons over royal blue dresses, with black head coverings. The three boys sported white shirts, black vests and black pants, with black shoes and black-felt brimmed hats. Seeing her sons looking so like their uncle gave Lizzie a flash of memory of their family life when her husband had been alive. Sadness overwhelmed her and she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to cry.

Soon they were on their way to church services at the Thomas Stoltzfus farm. Lizzie found herself in the front, seated next to Zack after Esther chose to sit in the back. As Zack drove, Lizzie was overly conscious of him beside her. She experienced an odd sensation in her midsection. The baby? It wasn’t her unborn child that made her feel this way, she realized. It was Zack sitting closely beside her. She watched his strong hands handle the reins with confidence. He was relaxed as he steered the buggy along the paved road toward their destination.

She wondered how the congregation would react when they saw her and the children with Zack and Esther. Abraham had been well liked and respected, and they’d known that he’d needed to marry quickly for the sake of his children. But Lizzie had always wondered what they’d thought about Abraham’s choice of a crippled seventeen-year-old bride.

Months into her marriage to Abe, the community women had begun to stop by the farm to visit with her, often seeking her company during church and visiting Sundays. Apparently after seeing how hard she’d worked and the love she had for her new family, the community must have decided that Abraham had chosen well.

When her childhood friend Rachel Miller had married Peter Zook, who lived down the road, Lizzie had been happy and excited. She, Abraham and the children had been invited to the wedding, and Lizzie had been overjoyed to see her dear friend happy and in love.

Zack steered the horse into the Stoltzfuses’ barnyard and parked at the end of a long row of family buggies. He got out and assisted Esther. The children scrambled out quickly in a hurry to see their friends. Because of her hip, Lizzie slid out more carefully and was relieved to be standing steady and on firm ground, before Zack had a chance to reach her side of the vehicle. She retrieved the pies from the buggy floor and nearly bumped into Zack as she straightened. She gasped, instantly aware of his clean masculine scent—a mixture of her homemade soap, fresh air and a manly smell that belonged only to Zack.

Silently, he reached to take the desserts from her. She passed him the cherry pie while refusing to relinquish the apple. Lizzie firmed her lips. She was more than capable of carrying pies! He must have read her expression, for he captured her gaze, his lips curving with amusement, before he turned his attention to his sister, who joined them with the dish of brownies she’d baked yesterday afternoon.

How dare Zack laugh at her expense! She felt her throat tighten. She had handled the farm and the children since Abraham’s death. The children continued to be clothed, fed and cared for. And she’d done it on her own, hadn’t she?

She brightened when she caught sight of Rachel, who looked over and waved. Lizzie grinned and raised a hand in greeting, watching Rachel’s gaze shift to Zack beside her as they approached. Her friend raised her eyebrows in question, and Lizzie could feel herself blush as she reached the front porch steps and handed Rachel her pie before she reached toward Zack for the other one. She sighed when Rachel looked to her for an introduction.

“Zack, this is a dear friend, Rachel Zook. Rachel, meet Zack Fisher, my late husband’s brooder.”

Zack gave Rachel a nod. “Rachel,” he greeted warmly.

Lizzie encountered his gaze and suddenly felt flustered. “Rachel and I grew up together. She recently married Peter Zook, who lives just down the road from us.”

“I’m sure you’re happy to have her close.”

Lizzie gave her friend a genuine smile. “Ja,” she and Rachel said at the same time. Lizzie laughed, warmed again by Rachel’s friendship. Rachel was the only person who accepted Lizzie limp and all. If not for Rachel’s presence during her childhood, Lizzie would have been unable to endure the other children’s ridicule.

She saw Rachel’s expression change as her friend studied Zack. Confused, Lizzie shot Zack a look only to find him staring at her and not Rachel.

“Zack?” Amos Beiler drew Zack’s attention away from her and Rachel. Lizzie sighed with relief. She watched recognition dawn in Amos Beiler’s expression followed by delight as he and Zack shook hands. She stood as the two men exchanged pleasantries.

“Lizzie,” Rachel whispered, drawing her aside. “He is beautiful! He looks like...” She didn’t say Abraham’s name but gave Lizzie’s hand a squeeze. “Only he’s better-looking.”

“Rachel!” Lizzie gasped, feeling her face heat.

Esther came up from behind Zack to join Lizzie and Rachel. She’d been standing quietly, studying the church members chatting outside. Lizzie gave her friend a warning look and managed to compose herself before turning to her sister-in-law.

“Esther,” Lizzie said with warmth, “this is Rachel Zook. She and I have known each other since we were children.”

“It’s goot to meet you, Rachel,” Zachariah’s sister said.

Her expression brightening, Rachel smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet some of Abraham’s family.” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

Esther nodded, her eyes glistening. “My brooder was a goot man.”

“Ja,” Lizzie whispered, suddenly feeling the loss keenly. She blinked back tears. “He was.”

Rachel put her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “Things will work out, Lizzie.”

Lizzie forced a smile as she turned to Esther. “I miss him,” she said.

Esther’s features softened. “You must have made my brooder a happy man,” she said, surprising Lizzie. “You’re a hard worker and you love the children.”

“Danki,” she murmured, wondering what Esther would think if she knew the truth.

“Lizzie! Rachel!” Marybeth Stoltzfus exited the house. She widened her eyes when she recognized Esther. “Esther? Esther Fisher?”

Esther smiled. “Ja, Marybeth. ’Tis nice to see ya again.”

“Come in. Come in,” the woman invited.

“I’ve known Marybeth since I was a girl,” Esther whispered to Lizzie. “But she was a Yoder then.”

The women set their dishes in the kitchen and then proceeded to the room where church services would be held. It was a large family gathering room. Benches had been placed in rows on three sides of the room, with the fourth side-area set aside for the preacher and church elders.

As she slid onto a bench next to her daughters, Lizzie recognized her sons seated next to their uncle on the other side of the room. She glanced toward Zack only to find his bright obsidian eyes studying her. She felt an infusion of heat and quickly looked away.

Preacher David Hostetler stepped into the spotlight and began the service. Everyone stood and began to sing from the Ausbund, the Amish book of hymns. They always sang a cappella, their songs sounding like chants. Aware of her daughters’ voices beside her, Lizzie joined in to sing praise to the Lord.

A slight movement to the right of her caught the corner of her eye, and Lizzie turned to see who it was. Little Anne slipped past her older sisters toward her, apparently wanting to sit next to her. Lizzie smiled and laid a hand on the child’s shoulder, pleased that this daughter, at least, loved her unconditionally. Mary Ruth shifted over to allow her little sister more room and then smiled at Lizzie, above Anne’s head, as if she understood. Sensing his regard, Lizzie realized that Zack had witnessed the exchange. She had no idea what he was thinking as he glanced toward Anne then her again, before he returned his attention to the preacher.

Lizzie’s heart started to beat hard as she focused on the service. Did she really want to know Zack’s thoughts?

Preacher David gave a wonderfully stirring sermon, which caught and held her attention. Inspired, she raised her voice as she sang when the time came for the Loblied, the second hymn. When there was a break in the sermon, she prayed silently.

Soon, church service was finished, and Lizzie rose and followed her daughters out of the room and into the kitchen. The men and boys stayed behind and began to rearrange the church benches and set up tables for the shared midday meal.

When she entered the kitchen to help with the food, Lizzie was suddenly surrounded and the center of attention as the churchwomen asked about Zack and Esther and Lizzie’s family until Esther walked into the room. The women’s excitement rose as they recognized her. Several of the church ladies offered their condolences to Esther on her brother’s death. Others questioned her about other matters, curious to know where the family had been living and what they’d been doing during all these years.

The setup of the dining area was complete. The food was unwrapped and ready to serve. The women grabbed the dishes they’d brought and carried them over to the men. Later, when the men had eaten, the women sat with their children and enjoyed their meal. The men escaped into the yard to talk about the weather, their farms, the upcoming fall harvest and other topics that the men liked to discuss.

Lizzie picked up two plates from the food table and carried them back toward the kitchen. As she approached, she overheard two women talking about the Fisher siblings and the farm. She listened, unable to help herself. When she heard someone mention her name, she froze.

“I was surprised to see Zachariah and Esther. But then, I suppose that I shouldn’t be. Young Zack is the rightful heir to his father’s farm.” The first woman’s voice came clear and strong, and Lizzie recognized her immediately as Joanna, Wilmer Miller’s wife.

“What about young Lizzie? She’s been a fine mudder to Abraham’s children. What will happen to her if Zack decides to stay on the farm?” Lizzie knew the identity of the second woman as Martha Yoder.

“Zack will see that she is cared for. He was always a goot boy—I doubt that has changed about him,” Joanna pointed out.

“But the children—

“Zack and Esther are more than capable of taking care of their nieces and nephews.”

“But Lizzie is their brooder’s widow!” Martha exclaimed.

“Ja, but Lizzie has a hindrance. Do you think she can do everything that’s necessary to keep the farm going and take goot care of seven children?”

“That kind of thinking is not the Lord’s way.”

“Ja, I know,” Joanna admitted, “but too often things are as they are anyway.”

The women’s voices faded as they moved out of Lizzie’s hearing. Their words still hurt her as Lizzie turned away from the kitchen, the leftover food platters in her hands forgotten, and nearly collided with someone.

“Lizzie.” Lydia King stood before her, startling her.

“Mam!” Lizzie gasped, nearly dropping the plates in her hands.

Chapter Five

“What are you doing here?” Lizzie asked. “I didn’t see you at church service.”

Her mother rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “We just arrived. Went to service at the John Millers’. Then I thought I’d come see my daughter since she doesn’t visit me often enough.”

Lizzie stifled a growing feeling of irritation. She had lost her husband and she was dealing with the farm, the children and the house. Her family lived in another church district but close enough to come to her if they wanted, as they apparently had today. Before Abraham had died, she’d seen them often. Didn’t her mother realize how much she had to cope with?

Lizzie managed a genuine smile. She loved her mother, although Mam had been less affectionate with her than with her brothers and sisters during her childhood. “’Tis goot to see you, Mam.” She glanced behind her mother, looking for her family. “Did Dat come? And William and the others?” She referred to her siblings who still lived at home.

“Ja, the boys are here. Katie stayed at the Yoders’ after service. She’s interested in young Mark.”

Lizzie was glad for her sister, pleased that Katie had chosen to find her own happiness.

“Lizzie, you cannot continue as you have been.” Her mother regarded her with concern. “You need to find a husband, someone to help you with the farm and the children.”

Lizzie disagreed. “My husband passed recently. I’m managing on my own. Did you forget that you were the one who warned me that if I didn’t accept Abraham’s marriage proposal, then I’d never marry?”

Lydia waved her daughter’s concerns aside. “You’ve shown yourself to be a goot wife and mudder. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

Stunned, Lizzie could only stare at her. Who was this person and where was her real mam, the mam who’d hurt her, perhaps unintentionally, with words that made Lizzie realize that her disability bothered her mother? She’d never felt as if Mam accepted her. My limp embarrasses Mam. It was obvious to Lizzie that her mother found it easy to love William, Luke, Katie and her eldest married daughter, Susie. But not me—her crippled daughter. Lizzie hadn’t known her mother’s affection during childhood, and she was afraid to hope for it now.

It wasn’t that her mam wasn’t a kind person, a godly woman who lived by the Ordnung—the rules and religious teachings of the Old Order Amish community. But whether Mam realized it or not, Lizzie felt as though she’d never quite fit in. If not for her brother William, who loved to tease her like he did all of their other siblings, she would have felt completely alone and detached from the family. When her mother had urged her to accept Abraham’s offer of marriage, it had been William who had encouraged her to think about it hard and long and decide for herself what she wanted to do.

“You’ve lost weight,” her mother said.

“I’m eating well. I’ve been busy.”

“Are the children helping out?” Mam asked as she watched Lizzie’s younger children playing in the yard through the window glass.

Lizzie nodded. “They are goot kinner.”

“I can come by to help—”

“I’m fine, Mam, not to worry.” She smiled to take the sting out of the rejection. “We are finding our way together. We just need time.”

“It’s been two months,” her mother pointed out.

“Not long since their vadder’s death,” Lizzie insisted. She was glad to see her mother but wished that things would get easier between them. “You said that William was outside?”

“Ja, he’s talking with Dat and your brooder Luke.”

“I need to take these to the kitchen,” Lizzie said, referring to the dishes she held. The memory of Joanna and Martha’s conversation still stung. She hesitated, wondering if the two gossiping women were still inside.

“I’ll take them,” her mother offered surprisingly. “Go. Visit with your father and brooders.”

After considering her mother’s smiling expression, Lizzie gratefully gave her the plates. “I won’t be long.”

Esther came in from outside. “Lizzie, I’ve brought the rest of your pie—” She stopped abruptly when she saw the woman at Lizzie’s side.

Lizzie felt sure that Mam and Esther hadn’t met. Did Esther sense tension in the air between her and her mother?

Lizzie smiled, but she could tell that her mother was curious; and she didn’t want her mam asking questions. As Zack approached, Lizzie felt her stomach tighten when she saw her mother take a good long look at him.

“Who’s this?” her mother asked, studying the young man. She frowned. “He looks like—”

“Mam, this is Zack Fisher, my late husband’s brooder.”

A gleam of interest entered her mother’s hazel eyes. “You look like him,” she told Zack.

Zack nodded. “You are Lizzie’s mudder.” He eyed Lizzie and turned back to smile at her mam.

Mam nodded. “Lydia King,” she introduced herself.

Afraid of what her mother might say, Lizzie flashed Esther a pleading look.

“Lizzie, Ezekiel is tired and wants to go home. Perhaps we should leave.” Esther gave Lydia an apologetic smile.

“Ja, we should go home,” Zack agreed. “We should tell the children to wait in the buggy.” But still he didn’t leave.

Lydia’s eyes widened. “You’re living at the haus?”

“They’re staying in the dawdi haus,” Lizzie said, embarrassed by her mother’s question.

“I see.” The look in her mother’s eyes gave cause for Lizzie’s concern.

“We should go,” Esther said, and Lizzie sent her a grateful look. “It’s been a long day, and the little ones are tired.”

Her mother’s expression softened. “They are growing like weeds.”

Lizzie smiled. “Ja.” Ezekiel entered the house, rubbing his eyes. “Time to leave, Zeke. Where is Jonas?” The little boy gestured outside. “Tell him and Matt and your sisters that we’ll be leaving in a few minutes.” She turned toward her mother. “I’m glad you came,” she said softly. “It is nice to see you.” She regretted that she wouldn’t have time to catch up with her father and brothers, but she needed to go.

Her mudder nodded. “You’ll come for a visit soon?”

“We’ll try.” She hesitated. “But I can’t promise.”

Mam seemed satisfied with her answer.

Lizzie was conscious of Zack waiting patiently beside her. “I’m coming.”

He nodded, hesitated. “I’ll wait for you near the buggy.”

Lizzie watched as he stopped to chat briefly with the gathering of men near the barn before he continued toward their buggy.

She was startled when a hand settled on her shoulder. She turned and encountered her mother’s gaze. There was concern, caring and something she’d never seen in her expression. Affection.

“I will see you soon,” Mam said softly.

Lizzie nodded and then retrieved her empty dishes, before she said goodbye to her parents and siblings. Then she and the children joined Esther and Zack for the journey home.

* * *

As he drove home from church services, Zack noted Lizzie’s silence despite the fact that the children loudly chattered about the friends they’d seen, with Esther interjecting the occasional question or comment. He shot his late brother’s widow a glance. She stared out the side window, unaware of his interest. She looked vulnerable, pensive...alone.

As he turned his attention to the drive, he could still recall every little detail about her. Dressed in royal blue with white cape and apron and white head covering, she was a young, pretty thing. Beautiful, he thought, not just pretty. He immediately thought of her problem hip. Did it pain her often? She never complained if it did, and he respected her for it. He flashed her another look, but he couldn’t gauge her expression.

Turning his gaze back to the road, he recalled watching his little niece Anne as she’d switched places because she wanted to sit closer to Lizzie during church.

Things were complicated. He didn’t know why he’d thought he’d be able to return home, walk onto the property and easily assume control. He frowned, unhappy with his own arrogance. He’d taken a lot for granted when he should have known that the Lord often had other plans.

Since his brother’s death, Lizzie alone had cared for the farm and his children. He was beginning to realize that he couldn’t ask her to leave. It wouldn’t be fair or right since she was his brother’s widow. He would stay to help her, see how well she managed in Abraham’s absence. Lizzie needed help with the harvest. And while the community would come to assist her, there was still much to be done beforehand.

And what about the farm animals? How could she, a young crippled woman, handle the farm, the animals and his nieces and nephews? She was only one person, a young, vulnerable woman. He wanted to stay in Honeysuckle, but he had to make sure that the situation was fair to all of them. Zack smiled as he thought of his nieces and nephews. They were lively and smart, and they belonged on the property.

Would Lizzie be happy if he kept the children? Maybe she would be happier without the work and responsibility that had been thrust upon her.

Nay, Lizzie wasn’t Ruth. Despite her disability, Lizzie wasn’t weak. She’d never willingly give up the children or the farm. And he was beginning to wonder if he wanted her to.

Zack steered the horse-drawn buggy onto the road toward the house. It was late afternoon, but with the shortening of daylight hours, it seemed as if it were early evening. Sunlight had faded to dusk. The air was filled with the rich scent of autumn, the chrysanthemums planted near the house, the fallen leaves from the tree in the side yard. As he pulled the buggy into the yard and parked near the barn, he was conscious of Lizzie sitting quietly beside him. Something stirred within him, telling him that he was beginning to feel more for her than he should. He firmed his lips. More than a brother-in-law should feel for his late brother’s widow.

He climbed out, extended a hand to help Esther out of the vehicle and then started around the buggy to help Lizzie. But Lizzie refused to wait. She scrambled out of the buggy. He sensed when she tripped, heard her cry out with pain and then watched as she quickly stumbled to her feet. He rushed to her side, but she seemed composed when he reached her. He might have thought he’d imagined her fall, if not for his niece Anne, who had witnessed it from the backseat.

“Mam, are you all right?” the child cried worriedly.

“Lizzie.” Zack’s first instinct was to ensure that she was all right. His sudden urge to protect and care for her was disturbing. He allowed his gaze to make a thorough examination of her. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

Chapter Six

“I’m fine.” Lizzie managed to smile at her daughter without meeting Zack’s gaze. She was embarrassed. The fall had jarred her ankle and hip, which continued to throb incessantly while she struggled to hide the pain. She didn’t want to admit to Zack that she’d hurt herself. She didn’t want anyone’s help, least of all Zack’s. Abraham had accepted that she could manage on her own. Why couldn’t his brother do the same?

Trying not to let on that she was stiff and sore, Lizzie reached down to pick up the empty pie dish and turned toward the house. She lurched and would have fallen again if Zack hadn’t reached out to steady her.

“You have hurt yourself!” he exclaimed, examining her with dark eyes full of concern.

“Nay,” she assured him, but she could tell that he didn’t believe her. She was startled by his touch. His fingers on her arm made her feel things for him that she shouldn’t. She didn’t want to think of Zack as anything but her brother-in-law, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. “I should go,” she said, relieved when he released her. She quickly gathered her composure. “I need to fix supper,” she murmured as she turned and started toward the house. She stopped suddenly and faced him. “Will you and Esther join us?”

After a quick glance toward his sister, who was entering the dawdi haus, Zack shook his head. “We appreciate the offer, but we’ll snack later at the cottage.” He offered her a crooked grin. “Seems like we’ve been eating all day.”

Lizzie chuckled, relaxing, no longer embarrassed about her fall. “I know what you mean.” She had enjoyed a helping of most items on the food table. She shifted uncomfortably when Zack continued to stare at her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She didn’t wait for his answer but continued on, looking back only once briefly to see that the children were following her toward the house. Her arm tingled where Zack’s fingers had been. Her face flamed as she regretted her clumsiness in front of Zack. So much for attempting to prove that she was capable!

Once inside the house, Lizzie worked to prepare a light supper for the children, relieved that Zack and Esther had decided to eat at home. She had to process her attraction to Zack. She’d never felt this way about Abraham—theirs had been a marriage that had begun in necessity and ended in a calm and quiet love. Her feelings for Zack mortified and embarrassed her—why did she react so strongly to him whenever he was near?

Lizzie froze in the act of slicing bread for sandwiches. Did he suspect that she found him handsome, that she felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame? Closing her eyes, she groaned. She hoped not. It was wrong to feel this way. She was his brother’s widow, and her husband had been dead less than three months.

“Mam, can we have potato chips with supper?”

Lizzie pushed thoughts of Zack aside and forced a smile for her four-year-old son. “Ja, Jonas, you may have potato chips,” she said. “But it’s important that you eat your vegetables and meat, too.”

“But, Mam, I had lots of meat and vegetables today.”

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