Return to Lancaster County

Love blooms in the Amish Seasons series

Widowed single mother Ava Jane Graber can’t believe her eyes. Her first love is back in Lancaster County. Years ago, Jeremiah did the unthinkable: left the Amish—and her—for the Navy SEALs. Now the prodigal hero wants redemption from his community, his family and from the woman he never forgot. For the ex-soldier, becoming Ava’s husband is his ultimate mission.

With over seventy books published and millions in print, LENORA WORTH writes award-winning romance and romantic suspense. Three of her books finaled in the ACFW Carol Awards, and her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence became a New York Times bestseller. Her novella in Mistletoe Kisses made her a USA TODAY bestselling author. Lenora goes on adventures with her retired husband, Don, and enjoys reading, baking and shopping...especially shoe shopping.

Also By Lenora Worth

Men of Millbrook Lake

Lakeside Hero

Lakeside Sweetheart

Her Lakeside Family

Texas Hearts

A Certain Hope

A Perfect Love

A Leap of Faith

Sunset Island

The Carpenter’s Wife

Heart of Stone

A Tender Touch

Men of Millbrook Lake

Her Holiday Protector

Lakeside Peril

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Their Amish Reunion

Lenora Worth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08245-7

THEIR AMISH REUNION

© 2018 Lenora H. Nazworth

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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

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

www.millsandboon.co.uk

“Why were you hiding from me?”

She thought of that day at his farm. “I didn’t want to see you,” she said.

His eyes darkened with regret. “And now?”

She took a breath, so many emotions converging inside her head like a river stream flowing straight to her heart. “Now I’ve accepted that you’re back.”

“But you still don’t want me here.”

“You can tell that just from being around me?”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

“No matter how I feel, Jeremiah, my duty is to accept you, not judge you.”

He stared at her with eyes that held so many secrets but also a connection that couldn’t be denied. “I want you to forgive me, Ava Jane.”

How should she respond to that gentle plea? “I’m trying.”

“Gut, because I’m not going anywhere, ever again.”

She knew that.

“Are you afraid of me, Ava Jane?”

“Should I be?” she questioned him. But from the way her heart was pumping, she already knew the answer.

Dear Reader,

I did not set out to write an Amish story, but this idea came to me when I’d tried other ideas that didn’t seem to be coming together. My husband took me for a walk on the beach and I saw it in my head. I saw Jeremiah in my head, walking toward home.

When I told the idea to my husband, he asked, “Is that a thing?”

And I said, “It could be a thing. It could be a story.”

And so that is how a retired Navy SEAL returned to the community he’d left behind and found redemption and forgiveness with the people who took him back and gave him shelter. It was not an easy journey for Jeremiah and this was not an easy journey for me. But in the end, this story healed both of us.

I hope you enjoyed Jeremiah’s story and I hope that it helped you in some way on your own faith journey. I plan to write more about Campton Creek and the Amish community that has become a part of my heart. God allowed me to stumble my way into the world of the Amish and I will do my best to honor that.

Until next time, may the angels watch over you. Always.

Lenora Worth

“And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.”

—Jeremiah 29:13

To Marta Perry, a mentor and friend

and incredible writer.

Thank you, Marta,

for your encouragement and support.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

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

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

He thought of Ava Jane.

The memory of her sweet smile had held him together for so long, Jeremiah wondered if he’d ever be able to face her again. The real her. The one he’d left behind. Remembering her pretty smile was one thing. Coming face-to-face with her and seeing the hurt and condemnation in her eyes would be another.

Something he’d dreaded during the long bus trip across the country from California to Pennsylvania.

But he wasn’t here today to meet with the bishop about Ava Jane. He’d lost her and he’d accepted that long ago. He didn’t deserve her anymore. Twelve years was a long time. She’d made a good life with a good man. Or so he’d heard.

She had not waited for Jeremiah to come home because all indications had shown he never would come home again. At times, he’d thought that same thing. Thought he was surely going to die a world away from the one he’d left. At those times, he’d think of her rich strawberry blonde curls and her light-as-air blue eyes. And her wide, glowing smile. And he’d wish he’d never left her.

But he was here now, waiting inside the bishop’s home to speak to him. Here and needing to find some solace. He came back to help his family, whether they wanted him to or not. His younger sister, Beth, had tried to keep in touch, but her last letter had been full of fear and grief.

“Daed is dying, Jeremiah. Please come quickly.”

Bishop King walked into the sparsely decorated parlor where Jeremiah waited and stood for a moment. The man’s gaze was solemn and unreadable, but his dark eyes held a glimmer of hope.

“Young Jeremiah Weaver,” the bishop said before he took his time settling down in a high-back walnut chair across from Jeremiah. “Have you kumm back to your faith?”

Jeremiah held his head down and studied his hands, horrible memories of rapid gunfire and grown men moaning in pain filling his brain. Studied his hands and wished he could change them, take away the scars and calluses of war and replace them with the blisters and calluses of good, honest work.

He needed to find some peace.

That was why he’d come home to Lancaster County and his Amish roots. So he looked the bishop in the eyes and nodded.

“Ja, Bishop King, I’ve kumm home. For gut.”

Home for good. One of the hardest things he’d ever had to do in his life. Because the hardest thing he’d ever done was leave Ava Jane crying in the dark.

* * *

Ava Jane Graber grabbed her ten-year-old son, Eli, by the collar of his shirt and shook her head. “Eli, please stop picking up things, alleweil.” Right now. “You might break something.”

“Sorry, Mamm,” Eli replied, his mischievous brown eyes reminding her of her late husband, Jacob.

Jacob had drowned two years ago while trying to save a calf during a storm, but he used to love teasing her. Eli had inherited his father’s gift of mirth and his gift of getting into trouble.

Sarah Rose, soon turning seven, seemed to have Ava Jane’s sensibilities and logical nature. Her blue eyes grew as she twisted her brow. “Eli, you know Mamm doesn’t like it when we break things.” Putting her little hands on her hips, the child added, “And you break things all the time.”

Hmm. Her young daughter could also be a tad judgmental at times. Had she also inherited that from Ava Jane?

Ava Jane shook her head and gathered the few supplies she’d come into town to buy. “No, Mamm does not like it when you misbehave and accidentally break things.”

Smiling at Mr. Hartford, the general store owner, she paid for her items and said, “Denke.”

“You’re welcome, Ava Jane, and thank you for the fresh apple muffins,” the Englisch manager said with a wide grin. “Good to see you out and about today.”

“It’s a fine spring morning,” Ava Jane replied, her items and her children in tow. Mr. Hartford loved it when she brought him fresh baked goods to sell, but he also liked that she saved a couple of choices just for him. “A wonderful, beautiful day.”

“One of the Lord’s best,” Mr. Hartford said with a nod.

But when she walked out onto the sidewalk toward her waiting horse and buggy, her beautiful morning turned into something she couldn’t explain.

She looked up and into the deep blue eyes of the man walking toward them, her bag of groceries slipping right out of her grip. The paper bag tore and all her purchases crashed down, the sound of shattering glass echoing off the pavement.

“I think Mamm just broke something,” Eli pointed out, his gaze moving from her to the hard-edged man wearing a T-shirt and jeans, his dark hair curling around his face and neck.

“Who is that, Mamm?” Sarah Rose asked, her distinctive intuition shining brightly as her gaze moved from Ava Jane to the man.

Ava Jane couldn’t speak, couldn’t elaborate. But inside, she was shouting and screaming and wishing she could take her children and run away. Her heart had shattered right along with the jar of fresh honey she’d purchased.

She knew this man. Had thought about him time and again over the years.

Jeremiah Weaver.

The man who’d left her behind.

* * *

Jeremiah couldn’t stop himself. He rushed toward Ava Jane and the kinder with all the might he’d used to charge against the enemy while wearing heavy tactical gear.

“Ava Jane?” he called, fearful that she was going to pass out. Her skin, always as fresh as new peaches, turned pale, her sky blue eyes filled with shock, the pupils dilating.

He’d startled her. He had not meant to let her see him this way, here on the street in the small town of Campton Creek, where everyone talked too much about things of which they knew nothing. Wishing he’d had more time to prepare, Jeremiah couldn’t hide from her now.

“Ava Jane?” he said again when he’d made it to her side. “Are you all right?”

“Was denkscht?” she asked, anger in the phrase, her heart-shaped face dark with confusion.

What do you think?

Jeremiah saw a bench. “Kumm, sit.”

“Mamm?” the little girl said on a wail, fright clear in her eyes. “May we go home?”

Ava Jane looked from her confused daughter back to Jeremiah. “In a minute, Sarah Rose. Go with your brother to the buggy and wait for me.”

“You made a mess,” the boy pointed out, love for his mamm shining in his eyes. “I can clean it for you.”

Jeremiah could see Jacob in the boy’s eyes. Jacob, one of his best friends. Married to the woman he’d loved.

“I’ll clean it up in a bit,” Jeremiah offered, taking Ava Jane by the arm to guide her to the bench. Few people were out and about but those who were, including some Amish, had stopped to stare.

She pulled away. “I’ll get Mr. Hartford. Go now, Eli, and wait by the horses.”

The kinder did as she requested. Only when they were out of earshot did she turn back to him, her eyes blazing like a hot sky. “What are you doing here, Jeremiah?”

“I didn’t want you to see me yet,” he tried to explain.

“Too late.” She adjusted her white kapp with shaking hands. “I need to go.”

“Please don’t,” he said. “I’m not going to bother you. I...I saw you and I didn’t have time to—”

“To leave again?” she asked, her tone full of more venom than he could ever imagine coming from such a sweet soul.

“I’m not leaving,” he said. “I’m here to stay. I’ve come back to Campton Creek to help my family. But I had planned on coming to pay you and Jacob a visit, to let you know that...I understand how things are now. You’re married—”

“I’m a widow now,” she blurted, two bright spots forming on her cheeks. “And I have to get my children home.”

Kneeling, she tried to pick up her groceries but his hand on her arm stopped her. Jeremiah took the torn bag and placed the thread, spices and canned goods at the bottom, the feel of sticky honey on his fingers merging with the memory of her dainty arm. But the shock of her words made him numb with regret.

I’m a widow now.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremiah said in a whisper. “Beth never told me.”

“You couldn’t be reached.”

Ah, so Beth had tried but he’d been on a mission.

“I wish I’d known. I’m so sorry.”

Ava Jane kept her eyes downcast while she tried to gather the rest of her groceries and toss them in the torn bag.

“Here you go,” he said, the bag tightly rolled while her news echoed through his mind and left him stunned. “I’ll go inside and get something to clean the honey.”

Their eyes met while his hand brushed over hers.

A rush of deep longing shot through her eyes, jagged and fractured, and hit Jeremiah straight in his heart.

Ava Jane recoiled and stood. “Denke.”

Then she turned and hurried toward the buggy. Just before she lifted her skirts to get inside, she pivoted back to give him one last glaring appraisal. “I wonder why you came back at all.”

He watched as she got in the buggy and sat for a moment before she gave the reins to her son. Without a backward glance, Ava Jane held her head high. Then Jeremiah hurried into Hartford’s and asked for a wet mop to clean the stains from the sidewalk. He only wished he could clean away the stains inside of his heart.

And just like her, he wondered why he’d returned to Campton Creek.

* * *

Ava Jane didn’t know how she’d made it the two miles home. She’d been so shaken that she’d allowed Eli to guide the buggy. Knowing that their docile roan mare, Matilda, would get them home safely, Ava Jane watched her son handling the reins, her sight blurred by an ache that caught her at the oddest of times.

Well, seeing Jeremiah in Englisch clothes had certainly been odd. Seeing him, his blue-black eyes holding hers, so many unspoken things between them, had certainly been confusing and overwhelming. His hand brushing against hers had brought back memories of how they used to hold hands and sneak chaste kisses. She felt a headache coming on.

Why was he back?

Twelve years had passed since he’d awakened her in the middle of the night and asked her to come out onto the porch between the main house and the grossdaadi haus where her grandparents lived.

Twelve years since Jeremiah had taken his rumspringa to a whole new level while she’d barely done anything different during her own. Her heart was here in Campton Creek while his heart had longed for adventure and...war.

War. He’d become a warrior, hardened and battle scarred and unyielding. A Navy warrior. SEALs, they called themselves. In desperation, she’d gone to the library and found all kinds of articles that explained things much too clearly to her. He’d gone against the Amish way and joined the military.

What had he done and seen out there?

“I have to go, Ava Jane,” he said that night so long ago, tears in his eyes. “I can’t explain it but...something has happened. Something bad.”

“Was ist letz?” she asked, her heart pumping too fast. “What’s the matter?”

“Edward is dead.”

She knew Edward Campton, ten years older at the time than Jeremiah’s seventeen. He and Jeremiah became good friends when Mr. Weaver and Jeremiah went to the stately Campton mansion centered in the heart of Campton Creek to build some new cabinets in the kitchen. Edward, a Navy SEAL, was home on leave for a couple of months and, for some reason, he’d told Jeremiah things he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.

But then, Jeremiah always had a rough streak. He loved to wrestle and fight, to swim as fast as he could, to be the first to win in any game. And he often talked about things of the world, hunting and fishing, which the Amish did only for food. Jeremiah became fascinated with battles and war games and sailing the open seas, things their kind did not condone.

During his second year of rumspringa, the time all Amish teens and young adults had a chance to run around before they settled down and became baptized, Jeremiah became enamored of Edward. Edward’s Englisch ways and military talk swayed Jeremiah and changed him. Soon, Jeremiah began to spend more and more time with Edward, running and exercising with him, swimming in the big pool behind the Campton mansion, learning all about dangerous weapons and listening to Edward’s stories of valor. Even learning how to scuba dive, of all things.

Edward loaned him history books full of stories of valor, which Jeremiah read late at night after his chores were done. After he came by to see her and tell her he loved her which he often did back then.

Why, she’d never understand. Why, Jeremiah? Why had he felt the need to run away and join the Navy?

She heard talk in town about the Campton family. Their roots stretched back to the American Revolution and the town was named for them. They were rich and had a house full of material things. The minute Jeremiah met Edward, she’d felt him slipping away from her. All his talk about history and battles and honoring the country that protected and sheltered him.

He’d been almost eighteen and able to make his own decisions. Finally, he’d told her he wasn’t sure he wanted to be baptized. He wasn’t sure he wanted to stay Amish. Jeremiah had always been adventurous and he’d often talked about things of the world, but he changed right before her eyes. She saw the change the last time they’d talked.

“Jeremiah, what are you saying? Your place is here, with me. This is our life. The life God gave us.”

But that night she’d lost him completely. His friend who’d gone back to his duties had been on a dangerous mission to find and kill a known terrorist, he explained.

“I was at the Campton place a few hours ago, helping Mr. Campton with replacing some worn floors. They were watching a news report on television about a secretive raid that happened a few days ago. I could tell they were concerned. Then these two men in uniform showed up at the door. Mrs. Campton screamed out and we ran to her. Mr. Campton saw the two men and started to cry. It was horrible. They’d come to tell them that Edward was dead. Killed in the raid. Killed, Ava Jane.”

Once Ava Jane heard that and after Jeremiah told her he’d been there when they’d received the terrible news, she knew she’d lost Jeremiah.

His friend who’d served his country as a Navy SEAL had died, and now Jeremiah wanted to join up and fight an unspeakable enemy to avenge that death. That went against the tenets of their faith.

“No, Jeremiah, no,” she cried. “I beg you, don’t do this. We don’t get involved in these things. We don’t fight wars. Stay with me. We have plans, remember? Our own home, children. A life together. We’ve talked about it since we were thirteen.”

“I want that life,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “But I have to do this now, while I’m young. I’ll come back one day. Soon.” His hands on her face, he looked into her eyes, torment twisting his expression. “I can’t explain it, but I have to go.”

“No.” She didn’t agree with him, did not agree with how he followed Edward around, always asking questions and trying to be Englisch. He’d spent his rumspringa trying to be someone he wasn’t and now he’d become someone she didn’t know.

Blinking away tears, she came back to the present, focused on her children and tried to take a breath.

But he’s back.

He’d said he’d come home to help his family. True, his daed was ill, first from a broken hip and now with an infection that wouldn’t heal. After many weeks in a nearby hospital, Isaac had requested he be brought home. He now lay, in and out of consciousness. It was just a matter of time.

But who had summoned Jeremiah home?

Surely not his stubborn, hard daed, who’d banned Jeremiah from their home. Probably not his mamm. She’d never go against her husband’s wishes. Probably his sister, Beth.

The siblings had managed to stay close through the years. Beth often gave Ava Jane updates, even when she’d never asked for them. Sometimes, he couldn’t be located, such as when Jacob had died. His life had become so secretive and covert. Because it had become a dangerous life. Ava Jane had prayed for Jeremiah so many times. That was her duty. She prayed for everyone she knew. But she’d never prayed him home. Not once.

She wanted no part of the man.

She wanted to go back to that night and hear him say instead, “I’ll stay, Ava Jane. For you. Only you.”

Stop it, she told herself. Think of Jacob. You can have no betrayal of your husband in your thoughts.

So now while her children did their chores and ran around in the sunshine, chasing butterflies, Ava Jane sat in Jacob’s rocking chair and cried for her husband, her head pounding with both physical and mental pain. She needed his warmth right now. She needed him here with her in their safe, comfortable beloved world. Jacob would hold her close and tell her he’d protect her and take care of her. No matter what.

Her husband had tried to show her the love that Jeremiah had thrown away and, in turn, she’d tried to be a good wife to Jacob. They had truly grown to love each other. They’d been together through the loss of both of Jacob’s parents, first his mother and then, a year later, his father. Jacob never quite got over losing his parents. But then he’d died five years later.

Now, struggling on her small farm, she didn’t have Jacob to shield her from the pain of seeing Jeremiah again. Jeremiah, the same but so different.

Ava Jane tugged her shawl tightly around her as the gloaming fell across the green grass and newly budding fruit trees, the last of the sun’s rays covering the hills and valleys and rooftops like a light linen veil. She wondered how she’d ever be able to accept Jeremiah being back in Campton Creek. No matter that she was allowed to speak to him since he’d never been baptized and there was no ban on him. No matter that she might not see him every day anyway. No matter that his family needed him and he’d heeded that call. None of it mattered and she shouldn’t even fret about these things.

Just knowing he was nearby—that would be the hard thing.

Ava Jane rubbed her aching temples and sipped the tea she hoped would subdue the agony attacking her brain.

Dear Lord, give me the strength to go about my life. He has no meaning to me now. I have to forget he’s back.

She would. She’d go on the way she’d been doing. She was blessed and, while she grieved the loss of her husband, she had to consider her children. They had kept her going these past two years. She’d concentrate on them and their needs.

But, even through her fervent prayers, Ava Jane knew that trying to put Jeremiah Weaver out of her mind would be like trying not to breathe.

Impossible.

Chapter Two

News traveled fast in the Amish community. Jeremiah knew before he approached the dirt lane leading up to his family home that they would be expecting him, even if they probably dreaded him being here. Bishop King had offered to come and talk to them, but Jeremiah wasn’t sure if he indeed had made it by yet or how well that visit had gone. Maybe they could all meet with the bishop as a family. The bishop and the ministers had given Jeremiah their blessings to go through the eighteen required weeks of lessons he’d need before he could be baptized.

He’d already started on that at least, and he’d kept in touch with Beth so she’d know he was close by in case his father took a turn for the worse.

“When are you coming home to us?” his sister had asked when he’d sent her word to call him at the Campton estate.

“After I take care of a few things.”

Things such as transferring the money he’d saved to a bank here so he could help his family financially and set up provisions for his mother and sister.

He’d wanted to talk to Ava Jane, too, but he’d never found the courage. So now, she knew he was back. Soon the whole community would know he’d returned. He’d stalled long enough.

These last few weeks, he’d been staying in the guesthouse at Campton House and working for the now-elderly Camptons. But after seeing Ava Jane yesterday outside Hartford’s General Store, he knew it was time to do what he’d set out to do.

He had to face his family.

Beth had faithfully written to him through the years. That was allowed at least. He knew a lot of Amish who kept in touch with relatives who’d gone out into the Englisch world.

Mamm always sent her love but even now she wouldn’t talk to him if his daed was alert and aware. But Daed. That was another matter. While he had not officially been shunned since he’d never been baptized, Jeremiah knew he’d been gone a long time. His daed had made it clear he was not welcome back in the Weaver house, unless he was willing to give his confession and be baptized. Then Jeremiah would be welcomed back and forgiven, and the past would be the past.

Only, he’d brought his past with him. Not willing to think about that now, he made his way up to the wide, welcoming porch that his mamm and sister kept swept and spotless. Already, a riotous bed of flowers bloomed in shades of purple, red and blue all along the porch border. Two potted plants graced each side of the front door. His mother and sister loved their gardens. Daed frowned on such frivolous colors, but Jeremiah knew his father well enough to know Isaac Weaver would do anything to make his wife smile.

Anything but forgive his only son for leaving. His father might accept him back, but Jeremiah wondered if that wound could ever be completely healed. He’d deserted his family.

The bishop had given Jeremiah some advice to help him get started on the process of attending baptism sessions, which happened an hour before church on every other Sunday. Then he needed to get right with his family. The bishop had prayed with him about that, too. And, while Jeremiah had not been ready to share everything he’d seen and done, Bishop King had offered him some hope. “You can talk to me, Jeremiah. Anytime, about anything. Wilkum home.”

Thankful for that, Jeremiah had asked, “Where do I start?”

Rubbing his silver beard, Bishop King had lowered his head. “Your daed is gravely ill. He might not ever know you are home but Isaac will be glad in his heart to see you return. I encourage you to talk to him, even if he seems to be sleeping. Your mamm and sister need a strong man about. The place is going down in spite of neighbors pitching in to help. You will step up, Jeremiah. And in time you’ll begin to heal.”

He was about to step up, all right. He might not be able to truly be a part of this family but he’d do the right thing because he was ready now. Ready to settle down and give his life back to the Lord. Jeremiah would do whatever it took to find his way back to God.

And to Ava Jane.

He hadn’t planned on trying to win her back but...she was alone now. She needed him and, even though she’d acted afraid and angry, he’d seen the truth when he’d touched her hand and looked into her eyes. She could love him again with time and forgiveness. Now he had a wonderful reason to work hard to prove his intentions. He’d make things right with God and his family and then he’d win Ava Jane back. It would be the toughest battle of his life.

Now he stood at the steps of the home where he’d been raised, memories coloring his mind in the same way those flowers colored the yard. But the pretty flowers couldn’t hide the gloomy facade surrounding the big rectangular two-story house. One of the porch posts needed replacing, and the whole place could use a good coat of paint. The house contained four big bedrooms and a large open kitchen and dining area with a cozy sitting area by the woodstove. Big enough to hold church services, if need be. A large basement for storage and summer use. And the grossdaadi haus where his grandparents had lived before their deaths.

A lot needed to be done around here.

Jeremiah closed his eyes and thought about growing up on this vast farm. The laughter, the discussions, the prayers before each meal, the hard work. A heavy mist filled his eyes. He opened them and took a deep breath to calm himself.

Home.

Before he could take another step, his younger sister, Beth, rushed out the door and flung herself into his arms.

“Jeremiah, you’re home! Gott segen eich.”

God bless you.

Jeremiah held her close, the scent of lavender and fresh soap cleansing away the ugliness of what he’d seen on the battlefield.

He held her for only a second and then stepped back. “Shh, now. You know Daed wouldn’t want you touching me.”

She blinked back tears, her dark hair spilling around her white kapp like smooth chocolate. “Daed doesn’t wake up much anymore. We need you home and I need a hug from my big brother, ja.”

“Where’s Mamm?” he asked, his voice clogged with emotion. He smelled pot roast and gravy, maybe even biscuits. His mouth watered just thinking about his mother’s cooking.

“Seeing to Daed in the downstairs room,” Beth replied. “Kumm, we have a grand feast for you.”

“A feast for the prodigal?”

Beth gave him a solid stare, her blue eyes bright. “Ja. And glad to have him home at that.”

* * *

Ava Jane sat down next to her sister. Once or twice a week, she and her sister and some other friends got together to quilt and bake, taking turns to host. Some might call this time together a frolic and they did frolic, but they also worked and prayed and shared common joys and concerns.

Her friends had seen her through two babies and the loss of her in-laws and her husband. She loved them dearly and counted her sister, Deborah, as a friend, too. Deborah had been eight years old when Jeremiah had left. Ava Jane remembered her little sister crawling into her bed and snuggling close to her while she cried. Deborah remembered how Ava Jane had suffered.

Today, they were at Ava Jane’s house finishing up a quilt she was making for Sarah Rose. The women had been working on the intricate appliquéd patterns all winter and now they needed to complete it before the spring chores, such as planting, gardening and canning, took over.

“Beautiful,” Deborah said, her green eyes searching Ava Jane’s face. “I think Sarah Rose will love this so much. The rose in the center is precious. It will make a wonderful present for her seventh birthday.”

Ava Jane continued to stitch one of the black squares with white backings that would frame a colorful flower, bird or butterfly. “Ja, I’m thankful for the help. I have to work on it when the kinder are with Mamm and Daed.” She glanced at the big-faced clock in the kitchen. Eleven in the morning. “We have a couple more hours. Daed is supervising the pony rides today.”

Both of her children were learning about chores and responsibility thanks to help from her parents. Daed provided a good male influence that helped to discipline them properly, but he couldn’t be with them all the time.

Jacob. She always thought of what a good father he’d been.

“Gut,” her sister said in a conspiring tone, bringing her back to the task at hand. “Now you can tell us what you think about Jeremiah Weaver coming back to Campton Creek.”

Ava Jane missed a stitch and pricked her finger.

Which her shrewd and overly curious sister saw right away.

With a soft yelp, she dropped her needle and held her finger to her lips, the metallic taste of blood making her wince. But she didn’t dare look at her sister or her suddenly quiet friends.

Deborah handed her an old remnant of fabric to hold over her finger. “You’ve talked to him?”

Ava Jane held the fabric to her skin, the pain of the tiny cut stinging through her with a warning while the pressure she put on the wound only reinforced her anxiety. “Not intentionally, ne.”

Why did she feel the need to defend herself and him?

“Then how?” Deborah asked, concern mixed with hurt in her eyes that her sister had not confided in her.

Ava Jane glanced at the two other women watching her with a ridiculous intensity that made her want to laugh. But she couldn’t laugh. “I was coming out of Hartford’s and he was there on the street, loading some lumber into a truck.”

“Lumber, on the street? And a truck at that?” her friend Hannah asked, her brown-eyed expression full of awe. “What does he look like now?”

Did her friends think Jeremiah had grown two heads and now breathed fire? Well, remembering how she’d recoiled at first, she’d probably acted the same.

Ava Jane swallowed and wished she hadn’t been so transparent here today or with Jeremiah yesterday. She never could hide her emotions. Tenderhearted, her mamm called her.

Holding her head up, she said, “He looks healthy.” And hardened and world-weary.

Jeremiah had always been formidable, but now his shoulders seemed to be even wider than she remembered. Strong shoulders.

Her sister made a groaning sound. “Ja, I suppose he would at that.”

“I’ve heard things,” Hannah said, speaking in a rush. “Heard he looks like a different man now. Englisch, my daed says.”

“Does everyone know he’s back?” Ava Jane asked, unable to stop her own curiosity.

“Ja, and that he talked to you on the street,” Hannah replied. “Grossmammi heard it from Rebecca Lantz. She said he’s been taking baptism classes already.”

Ava Jane shook her head. “No wonder it’s all over the place.” Rebecca Lantz loved to gossip and she’d also had a severe crush on Jeremiah at one time. Now at least, she was married and settled. But she still didn’t know when to stay quiet. “Rebecca likes to prattle too much,” she blurted.

She also told herself that if Jeremiah was attending baptism sessions, he must be back for good.

“We are not to judge,” Leah, older and married with six children, said while she cast her gaze across the creamy quilt backing. “Ava Jane might rather not talk about this.”

“He looked fine,” Ava Jane said to show them she was unaffected and that she, for one, wouldn’t judge. “We spoke briefly and I left.”

She didn’t go into detail about dropping her groceries or how Jeremiah had helped her salvage what she could. Nor did she tell them that seeing him had shattered her into a million pieces. She’d thought her grief was becoming better but now she mourned Jacob’s death in a raw, fresh way. She blamed Jeremiah for that. He’d brought out too many emotions in her.

“Has he returned for gut then?” Leah asked, sympathy and understanding in her brown eyes.

“I didn’t ask. And it’s not my concern.”

Hannah supplied the rest, her brown eyes settling on Ava Jane. “According to what I’m hearing, he’s come home because Isaac is dying. Jeremiah will take over the farm chores and continue the carpentry work he and his father used to do together. His father needed him a long time ago. At least he’s home now. Beth is happy. She never gave up on her brother.”

This time, when her friend looked at Ava Jane, there was a trace of regret and condemnation in Hannah’s expression.

What did she know about heartache? She had yet to find a husband.

Ava Jane went back to stitching her daughter’s quilt, her face burning, her eyes misting. She was pretty sure she made a mistake in laying the pattern, but then some believed no quilt should be perfect anyway. Only God held perfection.

A good reason to remember she shouldn’t judge.

The women went on to other topics such as the upcoming Campton Creek Spring Festival to be held next month. The Amish had always participated in the fair. They took their wares into town and held a sidewalk sale in the park by the creek and across from Hartford’s. But her sister’s hand over hers brought her head up.

Deborah gave her a quick, quiet smile and then went back to stitching a yellow-and-white butterfly.

Her sister knew her so well, Ava Jane thought. Well enough to know Jeremiah being home was a concern. A big concern.

* * *

A few days later, Ava Jane’s mother and sister came for an early-morning visit. “Wilkum,” she said, surprised to see both of them there on a fine Friday morning. “Come in.”

Her family lived just around the curve, close enough that she could walk across the field and then take the covered bridge over the big creek between her land and theirs. She sometimes avoided going that way, though, and instead took the lane that wound away from the deep creek that held the same name as the town.

She visited with them weekly and her folks often stopped by to check on her. But usually that occurred when the children were just returning from school up the road. They loved their grandchildren.

This was an unusual visit.

“We need your help,” Martha Troyer said, giving Ava Jane a quick hug. “We dropped by to see if you’d like to ride over to the Weaver place with us. Moselle is having a hard time of trying to take care of Isaac, and we’ve brought food to take.” Then Mamm gave a little shrug, but her intent was soon clear. “I just felt that I needed to visit with Moselle this morning.”

“And she felt that we both also needed to be there with her,” Deborah said, giving Ava Jane an eyebrow lift that warned her this was not Deborah’s idea. “Are you busy?”

Her dear sister was trying to give her an out.

Ava Jane searched to find an excuse. She’d already worked in the garden, swept the porch, hung some laundry on the line out back and made two chocolate pies. “Ne,” she finally said. “But why do I need to come along?”

Her mother gave her a soft smile. “I thought it might cheer up Beth. We haven’t had a good housecleaning frolic in a long time, and Beth’s been working by her mamm’s side day and night for the last few weeks, helping to take care of Isaac. You two can distract her while I help Moselle with whatever needs doing. It’ll be gut for Beth to talk to women close to her age.”

Ava Jane couldn’t say no. And besides, she wasn’t sure Jeremiah’s parents even knew he was back. But they’d have to know if he’d come back to help out. Everyone must have heard by now. He might be living here again, but he’d been using a truck in town when she’d seen him several days ago. That meant he might prefer life with the Englisch. But he must be living somewhere near here, at least. She wondered if he’d decided to stay out there in the world, after all.

But either way, surely he wouldn’t be at his parents’ place. He was no longer welcome there, from what Beth had said about their father’s wrath.

Of course, Ava Jane hadn’t been the best of friends with Beth through the years. Their friendship had been tested mightily. Maybe a visit could help that.

“Let me freshen up and get my bonnet,” she said, already tugging at her work apron. “I made two chocolate pies. I can take one of those to go along with what you’ve provided.”

Deborah gave her another meaningful glance and stepped back to mouth, “Sorry.” Martha’s all-knowing gaze moved between the two of them.

Did Mamm know what she was asking of Ava Jane?

Chapter Three

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Jeremiah said, his hand over Mrs. Campton’s, while they sat in the stately den of the big house he remembered so well.

Judy Campton smiled over at him and shook her head, her misty green eyes centered on Jeremiah. “No, son, we are the thankful ones. You made a great sacrifice, doing what you did after our Edward died. He would be so proud of you.”

Jeremiah didn’t feel proud. He’d done his duty and he’d followed orders, but he didn’t know how he could ever wipe the stench of death and destruction off of his body.

“I did what I had to do at the time. I thought I’d make a difference, but so many died. So many. In spite of being wounded I managed to be whole and survive. I got to come home.”

Judy nodded and patted his hand before she sat back in her comfortable chair and took a sip of tea, her faithful housekeeper and assistant, Bettye, hovering nearby. Looking into Jeremiah’s eyes before skimming her gaze over his blue cotton shirt and broadcloth pants held up by black suspenders, she said, “But you’re not really home quite yet, are you?”

“No, ma’am,” Jeremiah said, his coffee growing cold on the Queen Anne table centered between the two chairs. “I wanted to thank you and the Admiral for allowing me to stay in the guesthouse for this past couple of weeks. I needed to get my bearings and being here helped.”

“I wish the Admiral felt like sitting here with us this morning,” she replied. “He so loves talking to you. Makes him feel close to our Edward.”

Admiral Campton had taken a turn for the worse over the last year. He had a private nurse and was resting in his bed now, but some days he managed to get up and sit out in the garden he’d always loved. It was a garden Jeremiah had helped landscape and plant all those years ago, he and Edward working side by side with the hired yardman.

“I’ll go up and see him before I leave,” he finally said. “I won’t be that far away. You can get in touch with me if you need anything.”

Mrs. Campton nodded, her pearl earrings shimmering along with her short white hair. “I know you’d come immediately, Jeremiah. But your family is depending on you. I think God’s timing is always perfect, so you go on and get settled. But I expect you to visit whenever you’re in town. Please.”

Jeremiah saw the anguish on her face and heard it in that plea. They’d lost their only son and now they had no grandchildren to carry on the Campton name. When he’d called and asked to come by for a short visit, they had immediately taken him in and sheltered him, because they understood what he’d been through. He loved them like he loved his own family but he couldn’t be a substitute for their son. And they couldn’t fill the void inside his heart, kind as they were to him.

“I will always come and see you,” he said, getting up to stand in front of the empty fireplace. Staring up at the portrait of Edward in his dress uniform hanging over the mantel, he said, “I only knew him for a year or so but he changed my life forever.”

“Do you regret knowing him?” Judy asked, her tone without judgment.

“No,” Jeremiah said, turning to smile at her. “He was one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and he did not pressure me in any way to join up. I regret that I didn’t understand exactly what I’d be getting into. I don’t mind having been a SEAL. But the torment of war will never leave me.”

“You have PTSD, don’t you? Post-traumatic stress disorder is a hard thing to shake and I suspect you, of all people, know that.”

Judy Campton was a wise and shrewd woman who’d been a military spouse for close to forty years. She and Ed, as the Admiral liked to be called, married late in life and had Edward a few years later. Like his father, Edward had lived and breathed the military. And he’d given his life for that loyalty.

“Jeremiah?”

He looked around the big rambling room with the grand piano, the exquisite antique furnishings and the rare artifacts from all over the world. This place brought him both peace and despair. “I have nightmares, yes. Bad memories. Moments where I have flashbacks of the heat of battle. But I’m hoping that will improve now that I’m home.”

“Or it could get worse,” Judy replied. “I can give you the names of some good counselors.”

Surprised, he shook his head. “I don’t need that right now.”

“I see.” Mrs. Campton didn’t look convinced. “There is no shame in getting help. I used to volunteer at the veteran’s hospital about thirty miles from here. I’ve seen a lot of men and women improve by just talking about things.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jeremiah said, “once I’m back where I belong.”

“As you wish,” Mrs. Campton replied. “But call me if you ever need me. I’ll be right here.”

With that, he made his way to her. When she tried to stand, he said, “Don’t get up. I only wanted to tell you denke. I owe both of you so much.”

She gripped his arm and pushed with a feeble determination, so he helped her up. “And as I said, we owe you. Having you home brings a little bit of Edward back to us. Now, you go to be with those waiting to see you again.”

“I’ll tell the Admiral goodbye before I leave.”

He helped her back into her chair and alerted the nearby housekeeper that he was going upstairs. Then he turned and headed toward the curving staircase.

“Jeremiah,” Judy Campton called, her gaze lifting to him. “Don’t tell him goodbye. Tell him you’ll be nearby.”

Jeremiah nodded and took the stairs in a rush.

Once he left here, he’d head straight back to his parents’ house and he’d be living there from now until...

Until he could make amends, prove himself worthy and...maybe one day ask Ava Jane to marry him.

His sister, Beth, and his mother, Moselle, had welcomed him with open arms the other day since the bishop had told them of Jeremiah’s wish to come home and help out. The bishop had talked this over with the ministers, too. They were all in agreement that as long as he followed the rules of the Ordnung and worked toward being baptized, he would be accepted back.

“Du bliebst Deitsch,” the bishop had warned him. You must keep the ways of your people.

Mamm, perhaps too tired to turn down the help of her only son, had rushed into his arms the minute he’d walked into the familiar house two days ago. Then she’d stood back and said, “Go and see your daed.”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Jeremiah replied, every pore of his body working up a cold sweat, his too-tight shirt straining at his shoulders.

His mother put her hands in Jeremiah’s. “He needs to know his son made it home.”

When he hesitated still, she added, “Do this for me.”

Jeremiah couldn’t deny his mamm. So he nodded and made his way into the hallway that lead to what used to be a sewing room in the back. His father lay there in a hospital bed, his body gaunt and pale, his once-thick dark hair now thin and streaked with gray. A shroud of sickness hovered over him, but with his eyes closed, he looked at peace and as if he was only napping.

Jeremiah blinked away the hot tears piercing like swords in his eyes. Had he caused this in his daed? Standing at the foot of the bed, he remained silent and asked God to give him the strength he needed.

I need forgiveness, Lord. I need my earthly father to know that I made it back to him. And You.

Now this morning, as he stood in the same spot and again prayed about how to approach his father, he could at least know that he’d never turned away from God. God had been there with him in the raging seas when he’d swum through treacherous waters and on the smoke-covered battlefields when he’d crawled with the snakes. God had been there when he’d held a buddy in his arms and watched the life leaving his eyes. God had been there when Jeremiah had woken up in a hospital and cried out for home. And for his God.

He had scars on his body and scars in his soul.

But how did he heal this rift that had separated him from this man? The man who’d loved him and taught him all the ways of being a real man. The man who’d cried out in anger that Jeremiah was never to enter this house again.

Talk to him.

Both the bishop and his mother had said the same thing.

So Jeremiah took a deep breath and used his military training to focus. And then he sat down in the hickory rocking chair beside the bed and let out a long shuddering sigh of both relief and regret.

“I’m home, Daed. I’m home for gut.”

Isaac Weaver didn’t respond. He kept right on sleeping in that deceptively peaceful way. But Jeremiah talked to him anyway, in gentle, hushed tones that held both respect and sadness.

He began to tell his story of taking a bus across the country and finding a job in Coronado, California, where the US Naval Special Warfare Command was located. He’d lived in a hut of an apartment with two other roommates who were planning to join up, and he had worked at restaurants and on farms while studying to get his GED. He’d saved up some money and passed the test, thanks to the books Edward had encouraged him to read and to his well-educated and worldly roommates who to this day still called him Amish. He’d then joined the Navy and immediately asked to enter the SEAL Challenge Program. He’d entered the Delayed Entry Program as an enlistee, so he could be sure he knew what he was doing and get some extra training and instructions before the real stuff began.

The instructors and counselors had warned him that training and duty would wipe out everything about him and change him. And still, he had insisted he was ready.

“No one can ever be ready for such a thing,” he whispered in anguish. “But I couldn’t fail. I would have had to go back to fleet—regular Navy for two years—that is.” He stopped, shuddered a breath. “I didn’t fail. In spite of everything, I made it through.”

His father never moved, seemed to barely be breathing.

Jeremiah sat quiet for a while, his prayers centered on his father and this farm. He made a list in his head of all he needed to do. And he was just about to go on to explain boot camp and how the grueling training he’d undergone in a facility in Illinois, known as The Quarterdeck, had just about done him in. So close to his home and yet he couldn’t reach out or visit.

He never got that far, however.

Because he heard feminine laughter in the front of the house...and smelled lavender and fresh soap.

Standing, he peeked up the narrow hallway to the front of the house and saw three women hugging his mother and sister.

And one of those women was Ava Jane Graber.

* * *

Ava Jane glanced up and into the other room.

Jeremiah stood staring at her, his expression full of surprise and hope. He looked so different today. He was wearing the standard uniform of an Amish man: work shirt, broadcloth pants and dark work boots. He pushed the straw hat back, as if he’d become irritated with wearing it again.

Ava Jane couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. This had been a very bad idea. She should have stayed at home, where she belonged.

Jeremiah started toward her and then halted, his boots creaking against the hardwood floors.

Her mother and sister stopped talking and stared at her, and then they both glanced to the end of the hallway.

Deborah’s curious stare held shock. “So, Jeremiah is back.”

Beth nodded, her glance dancing over Ava Jane before settling on the others. “Ja, indeed he is. Home to help out.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Mamm said, patting Mrs. Weaver’s hand. “And to see that he’s visiting with his daed.” She sent Ava Jane an apologetic smile tempered with a motherly warning.

“Isaac rarely responds to anyone these days,” Moselle Weaver said. “We hoped Jeremiah might bring him back.”

Ah, that explained why Jeremiah was in his daed’s room. But Ava Jane wondered what would happen if Isaac Weaver should wake and find his wayward son sitting there.

Dear Lord, help me to be kind. Help me to find grace.

Jeremiah was now coming toward her, determination gathering like a thunderstorm in his eyes. He made it a few feet into the room and stood firm, his expression almost serene. “Hello, Mrs. Troyer. Deborah.” His eyes moved from them to her. “Ava Jane.”

Mamm hurriedly greeted him and turned back to Beth and Mrs. Weaver.

But both Beth and Deborah stood mystified by this encounter, knowing expressions passing between them like kinder playing volleyball.

“We only came to drop off this food and offer our help,” Mamm said, holding up the baking dish full of chicken potpie. “I believe Ava Jane has a chocolate pie for you, too.”

Ava Jane’s hands were shaking so much she thought she’d drop the pie.

But before that could happen, two strong hands took the dish right out of her grip. “My favorite,” Jeremiah said, his smile soft, his tone quiet. “Denke.”

The rest of the women started scurrying here and there like squirrels after acorns. Nervous chatter filled the big room and echoed off the crossbeams, but Ava Jane couldn’t hear what the women were talking about. She only heard the roar of her pulse pumping against her temples.

So she stood there like a ninny, wondering what to say or do. Ava Jane needed the floor to open up and swallow her. Needed the wind to lift her up and out into the wide-open spring sky. Neither of those things happened.

“How are you?” Jeremiah asked, true concern in his eyes.

“Fine, thank you,” she managed to say. “And how are you?”

A loaded question. What are you doing here? How did this happen? Explain everything to me and help me to understand.

His smile reminded her of the old Jeremiah. Her Jeremiah.

“I’m gut. Better than when I first arrived.”

“So...you’re going to stay here with your family now?”

“Ja. I was staying with the Camptons in their guesthouse.”

The Camptons.

Like a cold splash of water, sharp-edged anger hit her in the face. “That makes perfect sense,” she said, regaining her equilibrium and her strength. “Why didn’t you continue to stay with them?”

Jeremiah’s expression shifted and went dark. “Because they are not my family. I belong here. And I’m going to prove that to everyone, Ava Jane. Especially to you.”

Shocked at his blunt words, she ignored the rush of embarrassment surging through her and accepted that he held bitterness in his heart, too. Gut. She hoped he had a lot of guilt and bitterness left to deal with.

Regretting her harsh wishes, she nodded and swallowed her pride. “Your mamm needs you now. But you don’t need to prove anything to me, Jeremiah. Nothing at all.”

Praying they could leave now, she turned to face her mother. But before Ava Jane could form a good excuse, her mother announced, “We’ve been invited to stay for dinner. I’ve accepted only because after we eat, we are going to give Moselle and Beth a rest while we clean the house and wash up the laundry.”

Her mother’s tone brooked no argument. Ava Jane took a long breath and reminded herself that she had come here for Beth and Mrs. Weaver. Not for him. She could share a meal with these two friends. She’d be just fine because she would not let Jeremiah’s presence affect her. At all.

But before she could hurry into the kitchen, Jeremiah moved closer. “I have everything to prove to you. But mostly, I have everything that is left in me to give to God.”

With that, he spoke briefly to his mother, then nodded to the other women and turned to walk out the back door.

Ava Jane’s face burned with shame.

She’d never once stopped to wonder about what he’d been through out there. And she had to consider—did he truly have anything left to give to God? Or her?

Chapter Four

The women ate a quick dinner, and then Ava Jane, her mother and Deborah did a thorough cleaning of the Weaver house while Moselle and Beth tended to and then sat with Isaac. After an hour or so of sweeping, dusting and freshening up, the smell of lemon-scented furniture polish and bleach gave the whole place a clean springtime freshness. They’d thrown open all of the windows, and a gentle breeze cooled the entire house and cleared away some of the gloom of medicine and sickness.

The whole time Ava Jane’s nerves were on edge. She kept expecting Jeremiah to come through the door and glare at her again. She didn’t belong here but she was having a hard time seeing him here. He didn’t belong and he stood out like a mighty oak in a field of corn.

Father, help me to overcome this resentment. I know he means well but he left us. He left all of us.

Her prayers didn’t calm her, and yet Ava Jane tried to wipe the bitterness out of her mind and go about the task of helping friends in need. Since Jeremiah had left, she’d stayed away from the Weaver house. But she’d been friends with Beth since they were close in age and had attended school together, even if Ava Jane had let things lapse in that friendship. Civil. She’d been civil to his family and she’d been sympathetic to their pain. Ja, she felt that same pain to the core.

Maybe that was why her mother had forced her to face the entire family head-on. So she’d see her own bitterness and work to overcome it. Her parents had a way of embracing adversity instead of turning from it. Her mother was forcing her to face her worst fears and work through them with prayer and guidance.

Indeed, she had to put her raw feelings aside. Isaac was dying. And his only son had come home to help out and be with him. Maybe she should talk to the bishop and get some advice on how to handle things better.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Moselle said over and over after Mamm had told her they were done. Coming out of the sick room, she’d gasped in surprise at the fresh flowers on the table and the sparkling clean kitchen and sitting area, her eyes as blue as her son’s. Patting her kapp, she added, “I’ve neglected so much around here.”

“Mamm and I try,” Beth explained with an embarrassed blush. “We hurry through chores because we want to sit with Daadi as often as we can.”

“Of course you want to spend time with him,” Mamm said with a sympathetic smile. “That’s why we came to help.”

“We’re blessed to have gut neighbors who do the outside chores,” Moselle said, grief in every word. “I’m thankful Isaac is home with us and we can be near him.”

Not to mention cleaning him and bathing him, Ava Jane surmised from hearing their conversations. No wonder the two of them looked so withered and exhausted. And no wonder they’d welcomed Jeremiah back with open arms. He was needed and she had to admire his stepping up to do the right thing.

That took courage, considering how he’d been gone for so long. Considering how he’d left and what he had become.

Father, can I ever forgive him? How can I even start?

Beth had voluntarily filled them in on the details earlier, her voice hushed and whispery. Ava Jane hadn’t wanted to hear it but she’d held her breath with each revelation Beth brought out.

“He is staying in the grossdaadi haus for now. The bishop approved that. He takes his meals with Mamm and me, but doesn’t sit with us.” She shrugged. “His choice, out of respect for Daed.”

He was here to work hard and help his family, she explained. In the meantime, he planned to make things right with the church. With God.

“He started the baptism sessions weeks ago.”

Deborah glanced at Ava Jane during these tidbits of information regarding Jeremiah. “Where has he been for so long?” Deborah asked, her innocent tone barely masking her inquisitive nature.

“Out in California,” Beth said. “At least that’s the address he sent me a year ago, after he’d finished his duty. But I didn’t tell anyone except Mamm.” She shrugged. “He joined the Navy and went on some sort of secretive missions. I don’t ask for details. I think whatever he did out there must have changed him. He needed to come home.”

She shot Ava Jane a beseeching, hopeful smile.

Ava Jane didn’t tell Jeremiah’s sister or mother that she’d searched in the library to learn about the Navy and the SEALs. Why bring that up now? She hadn’t asked any questions while Beth talked either, but now she tried not to think about Jeremiah being out in the world alone. She only knew he’d have to make a lot right in order to be brought back into the fold. That was the Amish way. The bishop and ministers had obviously approved of him coming back. He’d have to study and understand adult baptism, discipline, shunning and separation to see where he fit in and to accept that once he committed and was baptized, he’d be expected to stay here and follow the church rules.

Once Jeremiah confessed his sins in front of the church and asked forgiveness and was baptized, he would be accepted. They would not mention his past again. And he would become Amish again. For good.

Could he do that? Could he confess what he’d done all these years, just forget all about it? How did a man forget about killing and war? What if he wanted to go back out there into the world or go back into the fray? What about that duty Beth had mentioned?

If he left again after he’d pledged to serve God and return to the tenets of the Ordnung, which consisted of a district-wide set of rules and regulations they were all expected to observe, Jeremiah could never return.

Please, Father, I pray he means to stay.

She refused to feel anything beyond that hope, but her heart hurt for what he must have done in the name of war. He had courage, too much courage. He’d always had a reckless, rebellious side and he defended his friends, no matter what.

Honoring a friend was why he’d left in the first place.

But he was back and he was indeed trying to make amends. Ava Jane knew she wasn’t to judge. That didn’t mean she could forget either.

She could only pray for Jeremiah and hope for the best for him.

The shining thankfulness in Moselle Weaver’s eyes told Ava Jane one thing. He was still very much loved. And love could heal a multitude of sins.

“I think that’s it,” her mother announced from behind where Ava Jane stood by the sink, staring out toward the fields.

They’d finished in time for Ava Jane to make it home to greet her children after school. “Gut. I need to get back before the kinder put out a search party.”

She was about to turn to leave when she saw Jeremiah plowing, his broad shoulders firm and solid, his big hands working the reins with a seasoned knowledge, as he urged the two big Belgian draft horses through the hard dirt. Growing up, he’d been muscular and big boned, his upper body full of strength because he managed to sneak off and swim in the creek all summer long. He’d had a natural grace about him. He’d been the kind of man who could take on any task and make it look easy. A smart learner, her daed used to say. Now that muscle was solid and fully matured and that grace fell across his broad shoulders like a mantle. He would farm this land and make it good again.

She didn’t want to accept how natural he did look, back in the fields, his hair long and curling around his hat, his face bare to mark him as unmarried. When she thought of that and of all the unmarried friends she had, a streak of fierce jealousy shot through her like a spark of fire.

She would not be jealous. She had no right to be jealous of anyone who might be interested in Jeremiah.

Behind him in the far distance, the covered bridge stood solid and firm, a glisten of water peeking through in diamond-like sparkles. Beyond that, far on the other side of the big creek that ran deep and wide, stood Campton House. The huge Georgian-style mansion had always fascinated Ava Jane. But the house held bad memories for her, too. Jeremiah spent a lot of his rumspringa at that house.

Something fluttered inside her heart. A memory of Jeremiah and Jacob laughing and playing in the body of water centered in their community. Jeremiah loved to swim since the day his daed had begun teaching him. He’d glide through the water like a fish. Jacob hadn’t been quite as strong but he tried to keep up. She’d watch them from the covered bridge, her fear of water too pronounced to allow her to join them. Jeremiah coaxed her to join even though girls didn’t swim with boys.

“I’ll teach you how to swim, Ava Jane,” he’d said.

She’d never learned. And she’d never told him that she was terrified of the water.

Why had she remembered that now, when the man she watched was deep in rich dirt and misty dust?

“He’s going to plant our spring garden even though it’s late in the season,” Beth said from behind, causing Ava Jane to come out of her stupor. “He’s trying so hard, Ava Jane.”

“I can see that,” she said to Beth, meaning it. “I’m glad for him. You need him home, ja?”

“Ja,” Beth replied. “God brought him home. Our prayers have been answered.”

Thinking of the Biblical story of the prodigal and how his father had welcomed him with open arms, Ava Jane touched Beth’s hand but didn’t speak. Then she turned to her mother and sister. “I need to go now please.”

She almost ran out of the room, her heart betraying her every step. She had to stay away from Jeremiah Weaver. He’d broken her heart once...and she was still mourning the loss of her husband. But she was still mourning the loss of Jeremiah, too. It was wrong to think of another man when she ached for Jacob every day.

Jacob had drowned down in the creek, trying to save a hurt calf. He’d slipped on some rocks and old limbs, fallen and hit his head. A neighbor had heard the little calf crying out and had found Jacob.

The prodigal might be home but her husband was gone forever. That didn’t seem fair to Ava Jane. Not at all.

She would try her best to forgive Jeremiah for leaving her but she couldn’t forget how badly he’d hurt her. The guilt of loving him haunted her. Even now.

* * *

Jeremiah stayed away from the house long after he was sure Ava Jane and her mother and sister were gone. He couldn’t be around her right now. It hurt too much to see the disappointment in her eyes, to read the judgment in her expression.

Coming back here had been hard. He’d been prepared for the curious stares and the condemning whispers. He’d also been prepared to work hard toward forgiveness and baptism. But he’d blocked out everything else. Or he’d tried. He thought he could get on with things if he avoided Ava Jane. Campton Creek was a small community and the Amish community within the tiny hamlet was even smaller. People knew he was back and, while most had been kind if not standoffish, everyone was watching him as if he were a deadly bug.

Shunned but not really shunned.

Alone in the middle of the world he’d loved and left.

Longing for a woman he’d loved and left.

Dear Father, I don’t think I can do this.

“Jeremiah?”

He whirled, hoping.

But it wasn’t Ava Jane walking toward him with a tall glass of lemonade. His sister, Beth, came up to the fence he’d been working on. “I reckoned you’d be thirsty.”

“Ja.” He took a long swig of the cool tart liquid. “Denke.” His little sister gave him the curious expression he remembered so well. “Is there something else you need to say, Beth?”

Beth watched as the big Belgian geldings munched on their evening hay. “You stayed out here all day. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m used to hard work.” He glanced back toward the house.

“They have left, Jeremiah. You can come inside now.”

“I’m used to being outside, too,” he replied. “It’s nice to be back on the land.”

Again, that curious stare. “What was it like, Jeremiah? Out there, I mean.”

His gut clenched. He didn’t talk about such things. None of them ever did. For one thing, his team members were trained to stay quiet about their missions. But then, how could he explain it to innocent, pure Beth? Or anyone for that matter. The brutality of being in such a secretive, demanding career changed some men in ways that could never be explained. But he had refused to let it change him.

He did not want to talk about it either.

Instead, he did a scan of the landscape, his gaze hitting the big creek where he’d frolicked and played with Jacob, with Ava Jane sometimes watching from the shore or the bridge. “What happened to Jacob?” he asked.

Beth shot him a disappointed frown. “Did you not hear? I thought I told you in one of my letters.”

“No. I didn’t even know she...Ava Jane...was a widow. You never mentioned that in your letters.”

“I did try to contact you, but later I tried not to mention her in my letters,” Beth replied, guilt coloring her pretty eyes. “I didn’t want you to think of a married woman, and then I only wrote about our family, since I didn’t want to gossip or hurt you.”

“I thought of her every day,” he admitted. “Now, tell me what happened to Jacob.”

Beth swallowed and held on to the weathered fence post. “He drowned down in the creek.”

Jeremiah flinched and closed his eyes. “How? He was a fair swimmer.”

“He went in after a trapped calf and, from what the sheriff could put together, he must have fallen and hit his head. They found a deep gash over his left temple. He was knocked out and went underwater. Just a foot or so of water.”

Jeremiah hit a hand against the fence, causing the old wood to crack. Beth stepped back, shock in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a gravelly whisper, his heart rate accelerating. “I...I had to learn to swim one thousand yards in twenty minutes and to hold my breath for at least two minutes underwater. I mastered scuba diving, underwater demolition and swimming for miles at a time. I could have... I could have saved him.”

Beth’s expression filled with shock at what he’d blurted out, but she shook her head, a hand on his arm. “You weren’t here, Jeremiah. And even if you had been, the fall caused him to go underwater. No amount of training or ability can change that.”

“I should have been here,” Jeremiah said, the rage at what he’d done bubbling up inside of him. “I should have been here.”

He tried to move away but Beth held him still. “If you had been here, you would have been married to Ava Jane, and Jacob would have been somewhere else that day.”

“Ja,” he said, nodding in a rapid-fire gesture of anger. “Exactly.”

Then he did pull away, leaving his confused, frightened sister to stare after him.

If he’d been here, everything would have been different.

But now that he was back, so many things had changed forever.

Chapter Five

A week later, Jeremiah stood in the hardware aisle at Hartford’s General Store when Ava Jane came in, carrying a basket of muffins. Everyone praised her muffins and pastries, and he noticed Mr. Hartford kept a supply in stock at the store, which meant she was earning money by selling them there. Jeremiah had bought a couple. Good, sturdy muffins full of oatmeal, nuts and fruits. Carrot muffins, banana muffins, pumpkin, too. He even got ahold of a zucchini one and he didn’t even like zucchini.

No fancy cupcakes for Ava Jane. She believed in hearty, stick-to-the-ribs food.

He watched now as she smiled shyly while Mr. Hartford bragged about her cooking skills to a couple of giggly female tourists out for a day of “experiencing all things Amish.”

Ava Jane listened and smiled and answered their questions with grace and patience. After the women bought a bagful of the baked goods right out of her basket, Mr. Hartford took the rest and placed them near the register.

Then Ava Jane turned to shop, her eyes meeting Jeremiah’s, her serene smile fading into a wisp of air.

He caught up with her in the produce aisle, where tender seedling plants lined the bins near the fresh produce. “Hi.”

“Hello, Jeremiah,” she said, her dainty hand patting her bonnet. “How are you?”

“Gut,” he said. “Just gathering some supplies to fix things around the place.”

Sympathy colored her eyes a sad blue. “It must be hard, seeing your daed like this. He was such a fine, strong man. I’m so sorry.”

Jeremiah had to swallow the lump in his throat. “He hasn’t woken once since I’ve been home. I talk to him but...”

“He hears you,” she said, something shifting in her attitude, her eyes softening, almost as if a wall had crashed down around her. “He hears you. It’s gut you came home.”

“Is it?” he asked, wishing it so. Wishing he could have come home to friendly greetings and a welcoming community. Everyone tolerated him, but Jeremiah wasn’t sure he’d ever belong here again. The bishop and the ministers and the deacons were all probably shaking their heads about what to do with him.

He had to stay on course, stay on the straight and narrow. Surprisingly, his military training was coming in handy. He could focus. He could go into a zone and see things through to the finish. Because he wanted this now as much as he’d wanted that then.

He prayed every night. He prayed while he sat with his father. He prayed when he looked into Ava Jane’s eyes.

Ava Jane looked shocked at his question. “It can be good, ja. Isn’t that why you came back? To make things right again?”

He nodded and wished he could snap his fingers and fix everything. But the bishop had warned him this would be a long, hard journey. “I have a lot of work to do yet,” he said. “I guess I’d better get going.”

“Not all of your work will be out in the fields, Jeremiah,” she said. Could she see into his heart?

He nodded, understanding. He had a lot to work through and most of it revolved around his feelings for her.

He was almost to the door when Mr. Hartford called out to him. “Jeremiah, you’ve been doing a lot of carpentry work since you returned. Ava Jane was just asking me yesterday about someone to help repair her back porch. What did you say, Ava Jane? A couple of rotten boards?”

Ava Jane turned pale, panic frozen on her face. Mr. Hartford had no idea about her relationship with Jeremiah. “It’s nothing, really. I can find someone else. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“I don’t mind,” Jeremiah said, sending Mr. Hartford a nod. “I’ll come by later this week to see what needs to be done,” he said to Ava Jane. “If that’s all right with you.”

She lowered her head and fidgeted with her apron. “That is fine. Mamm has been complaining about it and Daed keeps forgetting to fix it. Besides, I try to do things on my own and not run to my parents for every little thing.”

Jeremiah’s heart hurt for her. A woman alone with two growing children, trying to keep things together. She probably got up early to get her baking done.

“You don’t have to run to anyone,” he said. “I’ll be by to look at your porch first thing next week.”

He turned to leave before she could tell him no.

* * *

Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny with a slight crispness in the wind. But springtime freshness filled that same wind with various scents rising up: herbs and baked bread, bacon frying, the earthy scents of hay and animals and trees blossoming.

Ava Jane stood at her favorite spot in front of the kitchen sink, where the view of the valley and the water beyond always took her breath away. The sun peeked out over the rolling hills and winked through the newly budding trees. She remembered so many mornings waking up to this. Jacob would come up behind her and tug her close, his chin against her hair.

The water reminded her of two men. Jacob and Jeremiah. In a way, she’d lost them both to water.

Dear Father, how do I remember one when I’m trying to forget the other?

Ava Jane finished washing the breakfast dishes and called to the kinder, “Kumm.”

Sarah Rose came rushing down the stairs, chattering like a magpie. “Eli won’t hurry, Mamm. He’s got one boot on and one in his hand. His hair needs combing—”

“Stop spluttering so,” Ava Jane said with a smile. “Eli, what’s taking so long?”

Her son seemed to move at a slow pace at times. He was a good boy but he did tend to get into trouble a lot.

She added one more prayer to her morning list. She needed strength to raise her children. Strength and wisdom and purpose. She needed to teach her kinder obedience first and foremost.

Her parents were so good with the children, but Ava Jane knew she had to be tough on them in order to teach them the right paths in life. Eli was a constant challenge and Sarah Rose had a strong-willed personality.

Ava Jane might have softened since Jacob’s death but she was gaining strength every day. Hadn’t she managed to be kind to Jeremiah the other day at the general store?

And she’d be kind to him if he showed up to fix her porch. But that would be an uncomfortable situation.

At least it would save her having to pester her daadi about it. He had a bad back and she wouldn’t have to add to that.

“Eli!” she called, frustration edging her tone.

Her son ambled down the stairs, his dark hair flying out in shiny clusters around his head. “I forgot my hat,” he said, turning to head back up the stairs.

Sarah Rose shook her head and put her little arms across her midsection in frustration. “I don’t like being late.”

“Nor do I,” Ava Jane confirmed. “Eli, you have sixty seconds. Sarah Rose will count.”

She knew Sarah Rose could only make it to fifty, but Eli came rushing down the stairs, his black felt hat crooked. “Here, Mamm.”

“I’m not finished counting,” Sarah Rose whined, her eyes going big and misty.

“You can finish counting on the walk over to the Miller place,” Ava Jane said. “Now, let’s gather our things and get on the road. It’s a nice Sunday morning.”

The Millers held services in their big barn. Jacob and most of the other men of the district had helped them build it a few years ago. The women had gathered and made food for the event. Barn buildings were always an event to see.

Now the tall, sturdy building had weathered a bit but it would stand the test of time. Not like her old farmhouse. Jacob had tried to keep up with the many repairs around the twenty-acre farm, but he’d never been able to get the place the way he wanted. He loved working the land and they’d made a passable income selling produce and grain, but in spite of her family’s best efforts, she’d been forced to let some of the field go fallow. Now she sold baked goods, eggs and canned goods to make a living and tended a small garden so she could sell fresh produce and fruit at the local farmers market. She also made quilts, doilies, pot holders and aprons to help bring in extra income.

It wasn’t a bad life, but it was a tiring life. Constant worry nagged at her. She had two children to feed and clothe and, while her parents helped, she could never catch up.

Ava Jane waved to a family passing in a buggy but her thoughts went back to the day she’d seen Jeremiah in the general store. Why she’d agreed to let him come to fix her porch was beyond her. She couldn’t stop him now. She’d seen the determination in his deep blue eyes. There was something commanding about him that frightened her and made her wonder what he’d seen and done out there.

Steel. His gaze held a sliver of steel.

That had to have come from being trained to...fight and kill.

She couldn’t think beyond that. She couldn’t imagine what he’d been forced to endure in the name of justice and democracy. And yet, beyond that steel, she’d also seen a brokenness, a crack in the armor he’d had to put on.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

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