An Amish Reunion

Nathaniel Zook returns to his Amish community of Paradise Springs after inheriting his grandparents’ alpaca farm—but knows nothing of the furry creatures. Only one person can teach him what he needs to know to save his family’s homestead. But his childhood best friend, Esther Stoltzfus, still the pretty tomboy he remembers, is unusually reluctant. Nathaniel suggests the schoolteacher bring along some students so they can all learn together. Suddenly, the sweet alpacas and a dear young orphaned boy are bringing Nathaniel and Esther closer than ever. Yet he’ll have to risk sharing all that’s in his heart to form the family he always dreamed of.

“Danki for your help today, Esther.”

“I’m glad you’re my friend. You’ve been my friend since we were kinder, and I hope you’ll be my friend for the rest of our lives.” She put her hand out and clasped his. Giving it a squeeze, she started to release it and turn away.

Nathaniel’s fingers closed over hers, keeping her where she stood. She couldn’t look away from his eyes. She longed to discover what he was thinking.

Suddenly she stiffened. What was she thinking? Hadn’t she decided she needed to make sure he knew friendship was all they should share? She drew her arm away, and, after a moment’s hesitation, he lifted his fingers from her arm.

“Ja,” he said. “I’m glad, too, we’re always going to be friends. It’s for the best.”

“For us and for Jacob.”

“Of course for Jacob, too.” A cool smile settled on his lips. “That’s what I meant.”

“I know.” She took another step away. She couldn’t remember ever being less than honest with Nathaniel before. But it was for his own gut.

She had to believe that, but she hadn’t guessed facing the truth would be so painful.

JO ANN BROWN has always loved stories with happy-ever-after endings. A former military officer, she is thrilled to have the chance to write stories about people falling in love. She is also a photographer, and she travels with her husband of more than thirty years to places where she can snap pictures. They live in Nevada with three children and a spoiled cat. Drop her a note at joannbrownbooks.com.

His Amish

Sweetheart

Jo Ann Brown

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For if thou altogether holdest thy peace at this time, then shall there enlargement and deliverance arise to the Jews from another place; but thou and thy father’s house shall be destroyed: and who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?

—Esther 4:14

For John Jakaitis

Thank you for helping us find our way home.

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

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Paradise Springs

Lancaster County, Pennsylvania

Esther Stoltzfus balanced the softball bat on her shoulder. Keeping her eye on the boy getting ready to pitch the ball, she smiled. Did her scholars guess that recess, when the October weather was perfect for playing outside, was her favorite part of the day, too? The kinder probably couldn’t imagine their teacher liked to play ball as much as they did.

This was her third year teaching on her own. Seeing understanding in a kind’s eyes when the scholar finally grasped an elusive concept delighted her. She loved spending time with the kinder.

Her family had recently begun dropping hints she should be walking out with some young man. Her older brothers didn’t know that, until eight months ago, she’d been walking out—and sneaking out for some forbidden buggy racing—with Alvin Lee Peachy. Probably because none of them could have imagined their little sister having such an outrageous suitor. Alvin Lee pushed the boundaries of the Ordnung, and there were rumors he intended to jump the fence and join the Englisch world. Would she have gone with him if he’d asked? She didn’t know, and she never would because when she began to worry about his racing buggies and fast life, he’d dumped her and started courting Luella Hartz. In one moment, she’d lost the man she loved and her gut friend.

She’d learned her lesson. A life of adventure and daring wasn’t for her. From now on, she wasn’t going to risk her heart unless she knew, without a doubt, it was safe. She wouldn’t consider spending time with a guy who wasn’t as serious and stolid as a bishop.

As she gave a practice swing and the kinder urged her on excitedly, she glanced at her assistant teacher, Neva Fry, who was playing first base. Neva, almost two years younger than Esther, was learning what she needed so she could take over a school of her own.

Esther grinned in anticipation of the next play. The ball came in a soft arc, and she swung the bat. Not with all her strength. Some of the outfielders were barely six years old, and she didn’t want to chance them getting hurt by a line drive.

The kinder behind her cheered while the ones in the field shouted to each other to catch the lazy fly ball. She sped to first base, a large stone set in place by the daeds who had helped build the school years ago. Her black sneaker skidded as she touched the stone with one foot and turned to head toward second. Seeing one of the older boys catch the ball, she slowed and clapped her hands.

“Well done, Jay!” she called.

With a wide grin, the boy who, at fourteen, was in his final year at the school, gave her a thumbs-up.

Smiling, she knew she should be grateful Alvin Lee hadn’t proposed. She wasn’t ready to give up teaching. She wanted a husband and a home and kinder of her own, but not until she met the right man. One who didn’t whoop at the idea of danger. One she would have described as predictable a few months ago. Now that safe, dependable guy sounded like a dream come true. Well, maybe not a dream, but definitely not a nightmare.

Checking to make sure her kapp was straight, Esther smoothed the apron over her dress, which was her favorite shade of rose. She’d selected it and a black apron in the style the Englischers called a pinafore when she saw the day would be perfect for playing softball. She held up her hands, and Jay threw her the ball. She caught it easily.

Before she could tell the scholars it was time to go in for afternoon lessons, several began to chant, “One more inning! One more inning!”

Esther hesitated, knowing how few sunny, warm days remained before winter. The kinder had worked hard during the morning, and she hadn’t had to scold any of them for not paying attention. Not even Jacob Fisher.

She glanced at the small, white schoolhouse. As she expected, the eight-year-old with a cowlick that made a black exclamation point at his crown sat alone on the porch. She invited him to play each day, and each day he resisted. She wished she could find a way to break through the walls Jacob had raised, walls around himself, walls to keep pain at bay.

She closed her eyes as she recalled what she’d been told by Jacob’s elderly onkel, who was raising him. Jacob had been with his parents, walking home from visiting a neighbor, when they were struck by a drunk driver. The boy had been thrown onto the shoulder. When he regained consciousness, he’d discovered his parents injured by the side of the road. No one, other than Jacob and God, knew if they spoke final words to him, but he’d watched them draw their last breaths. The trial for the hit-and-run driver had added to the boy’s trauma, though he hadn’t had to testify and the Amish community tried to shield him.

Now he was shattered, taking insult at every turn and exploding with anger. Or else he said nothing and squirmed until he couldn’t sit any longer and had to wander around the room. Working with his onkel, Titus Fisher, she tried to make school as comfortable for Jacob as possible.

She’d used many things she hoped would help—art projects, story writing, extra assistance with his studies, though the boy was very intelligent in spite of his inability to complete many of his lessons. She’d failed at every turn to draw him out from behind those walls he’d raised around himself. She realized she must find another way to reach him because she wasn’t helping him by cajoling him in front of the other kinder. So now, she lifted him up in prayer. Those wouldn’t fail, but God worked on His own time. He must have a reason for not yet bringing healing to Jacob’s young heart.

Or hers.

She chided herself. Losing a suitor didn’t compare with losing one’s parents, but her heart refused to stop hurting.

“All right,” she said, smiling at the rest of the scholars because she didn’t want anyone to know what she was thinking. She’d gotten gut at hiding the truth. “One more inning, but you need to work extra hard this afternoon.”

Heads nodded eagerly. Bouncing the ball in her right hand, she tossed it to the pitcher and took her place in center field where she could help the other outfielders, seven-year-old Olen and Freda who was ten.

The batter swung at the first three pitches and struck out. The next batter kept hitting foul balls, which sent the kinder chasing them. Suddenly a loud thwack announced a boy had connected with the ball.

It headed right for Esther. She backpedaled two steps. A quick glance behind her assured she could go a little farther before she’d fall down the hill. Shouts warned her the runner was already on his way to second base.

She reached to catch the ball. Her right foot caught a slippery patch of grass, and she lost her balance. She windmilled her arms, fighting to stay on her feet, but it was impossible. She dropped backward—and hit a solid chest. Strong arms kept her from ending up on her bottom. She grasped the arms as her feet continued to slide.

The ball fell at her feet. Pulling herself out of the arms, she scooped the ball up and threw it to second base. But it was too late. The run had already scored.

Behind her, a deep laugh brushed the small hairs curling at her nape beneath her kapp. Heat scored Esther’s face as she realized she’d tumbled into a man’s arms.

Her gaze had to rise to meet his, though he stood below her on the hill. He must be more than six feet tall, like her brothers, but he wasn’t one of her brothers. The gut-looking man was a few years older than she was. No beard softened the firm line of his jaw. Beneath his straw hat, his brown eyes crinkled with his laugh.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Esther Stoltzfus!” he said with another chuckle. “Still willing to risk life and limb to get the ball.”

He knew her? Who was he?

Her eyes widened. She recognized the twinkle in those dark eyes. Black hair dropped across his forehead, and he pushed it aside carelessly. Like a clap of thunder, realization came as she remembered the boy who had made that exact motion. She looked more closely and saw the small scar beneath his right eye...just like the one on the face of a boy she’d once considered her very best friend.

“Nate Zook?” she asked, not able to believe her own question.

“Ja.” His voice was much deeper than when she’d last heard it. “Though I go by Nathaniel now.”

When she’d last seen him, he’d been...ten or eleven? She’d been eight. Before his family moved away, she and Nate, along with Micah and Daniel, her twin brothers, had spent most days together. Then, one day, the Zooks were gone. Her brothers had been astonished when they rode their scooters to Nate’s house and discovered it was empty. When her mamm said the family had moved to Indiana in search of a better life, she wondered if it’d been as much a surprise for Nate as for her and her brothers.

She’d gone with Daniel and Micah to play at his grandparents’ farm in a neighboring district when he visited the next summer, but she shouldn’t have. She’d accepted a dare from a friend to hold Nate’s hand. She couldn’t remember which friend it’d been, but at the time she’d been excited to do something audacious. She’d embarrassed herself by following through and gripping his hand so tightly he winced and made it worse by telling him that she planned to marry him when they grew up. He hadn’t come back the following summer. She’d been grateful she didn’t have to face him after her silliness, and miserable because she missed him.

That was in the past. Here stood Nate—Nathaniel—Zook again, a grown man who’d arrived in time to keep her from falling down the hill.

She should say something. Several kinder came to stand beside her, curious about what was going on. She needed to show she wasn’t that silly little girl any longer, but all that came out was, “What are you doing in Paradise Springs?”

He opened his mouth to answer. Whatever he was about to say was drowned out by a shriek from the schoolhouse.

Esther whirled and gasped when she saw two boys on the ground, fists flying. She ran to stop the fight. Finding out why Nathaniel had returned to Paradise Springs after more than a decade would have to wait. But not too long, because she was really curious why he’d come back now.

* * *

Nathaniel Zook stared after Esther as she raced across the grass, her apron flapping on her skirt. Years ago, she’d been able to outrun him and her brothers, though they were almost five years older than she was. She’d been much shorter then, and her knees, which were now properly concealed beneath her dress, had been covered with scrapes. Her bright eyes were as blue, and their steady gaze contained the same strength.

He looked past her to where two boys were rolling on the grass. Should he help? One of the boys in the fight was nearly as big as Esther was.

“Oh, Jacob Fisher! He keeps picking fights,” said a girl with a sigh.

“Or dropping books on the floor or throwing papers around.” A boy shook his head. “He wants attention. That’s what my mamm says.”

Nathaniel didn’t wait to listen to any more because when Esther bent to try to put a halt to the fight, a fist almost struck her. He crossed the yard and pushed past the gawking kinder. A blow to Esther’s middle knocked her back a couple of steps. Again he caught her and steadied her, then he grasped both boys by their suspenders and tugged them apart.

The shorter boy struggled to get away, his brown eyes snapping with fury. Flinging his fists out wildly, he almost connected with the taller boy’s chin.

Shoving them away from each other, Nathaniel said, “Enough. If you can’t honestly tell each other you’re sorry for acting foolishly, at least shake hands.”

“I’m not shaking hands with him!” The taller boy was panting, and blood dripped from the left corner of his mouth. “He’ll jump me again for no reason.”

The shorter boy puffed up like a snake about to strike. “You called me a—”

“Enough,” Nathaniel repeated as he kept a tight hold on their suspenders. “What’s been said was said. What’s been done has been done. It’s over. Let it go.”

The glowers the boys gave him warned Nathaniel that he was wasting his breath.

“Benny,” ordered Esther, “go and wash up. Jacob, wait on the porch for me. We need to talk.” She gestured toward a younger woman who’d been staring wide-eyed at the battling boys. “Neva, take the other scholars inside please.”

Astonished by how serene her voice was and how quickly the boys turned to obey after scowling at each other again, Nathaniel waited while the kinder followed Neva into the school. He knew Esther would want to get back to her job, as well. Since he’d returned to Paradise Springs, he’d heard over and over what a devoted teacher Esther Stoltzfus was. Well, his visit should be a short one because all he needed was for her to say a quick ja.

First, however, he had to ask, “Are you okay, Esther?”

“I’m fine.” She adjusted her kapp, which had come loose in the melee. Her golden-brown hair glistened through the translucent white organdy of her heart-shaped kapp. Her dress was a charming dark pink almost the same color as her cheeks. The flush nearly absorbed her freckles. There weren’t as many as the last time he’d seen her more than a decade ago.

Back then, she and her twin brothers had been his best friends. In some ways, he’d been closer to her than her brothers. Micah and Daniel were twins, and they had a special bond. He and Esther had often found themselves on one team while her brothers took the other side, whether playing ball or having races or embarking on some adventure. She hadn’t been one of those girly girls who worried about getting her clothes dirty or if her hair was mussed. She played to win, though she was younger than the rest of them. He’d never met another girl like her, a girl who was, as his daed had described her, not afraid to be one of the boys.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You got hit pretty hard.”

“I’m fine.” Her blue eyes regarded him with curiosity. “When did you return to Paradise Springs?”

“Almost a month ago. I’ve inherited my grandparents’ farm on the other side of the village.”

“I’m sorry, Nat—Nathaniel. I should have remembered that they’d passed away in the spring. You must miss them.”

“Ja,” he said, though the years that had gone by since the last time he’d seen them left them as little more than childhood memories. Except for one visit to Paradise Springs the first year after the move, his life had been in Elkhart County, Indiana.

From beyond the school he heard the rattle of equipment and smelled the unmistakable scent of greenery and disturbed earth. Next year at this time, God willing, he’d be chopping his own corn into silage to feed his animals over the winter. He couldn’t wait. At last, he had the job he’d always wanted: farmer. He wouldn’t have had the opportunity in Indiana. There it was intended, in Amish tradition, that his younger brother would inherit the family’s five acres. Nathaniel had assumed he, like his daed, would spend his life working in an Englisch factory building RVs.

Those plans had changed when word came that his Zook grandparents’ farm in Paradise Springs was now his. A dream come true. Along with the surprising menagerie his grossdawdi and his grossmammi had collected in their final years. He’d been astonished not to find dairy cows when he arrived. Instead, there were about thirty-five alpacas, one of the oddest looking animals he’d ever seen. They resembled a combination of a poodle and a llama, especially at this time of year when their wool was thickening. In addition, on the farm were two mules, a buggy horse and more chickens than he could count. He was familiar with horses, mules and chickens, but he had a lot to learn about alpacas, which was the reason he’d come to the school today.

He was determined to make the farm a success so he wouldn’t have to sell it. For the first time in far too many years, he felt alive with possibilities.

“How can I help you?” Esther asked, as if he’d spoken aloud. “Are you here to enroll a kind in school?”

Years of practice kept him from revealing how her simple question drove a shaft through his heart. She couldn’t guess how much that question hurt him, and he didn’t have time to wallow in thoughts of how, because of a childhood illness, he most likely could never be a daed. He’d never enjoy the simple act of coming to a school to arrange for his son or daughter to attend.

He was alive and well. For that he was grateful, and he needed to let the feelings of failure go. Otherwise, he was dismissing God’s gift of life as worthless. That he’d never do.

Instead he needed to concentrate on why he’d visited the school this afternoon. After asking around the area, he’d learned of only one person who was familiar with how to raise alpacas.

Esther Stoltzfus.

“No, I’m here for a different reason.” He managed a smile. “One I think you’ll find interesting.”

“I’d like to talk, Nathaniel, but—” She glanced at the older boy, the one she’d called Benny. He stood by the well beyond the schoolhouse and was washing his hands and face. Jacob sat on the porch. He was trembling in the wake of the fight and rocking his feet against the latticework. It made a dull thud each time his bare heels struck it. “I’m going to have to ask you to excuse me. Danki for pulling the boys apart.”

“The little guy doesn’t look more than about six years old.”

“Jacob is eight. He’s small for his age, but he has the heart of a lion.”

“But far less common sense if he fights boys twice his age.”

“Benny is fourteen.”

“Close enough.”

She nodded with another sigh. “Yet you saw who ended up battered and bloody. Jacob doesn’t have a mark on him.”

“Quite a feat!”

“Really?” She frowned. “Think what a greater feat it would have been if Jacob had turned the other cheek and walked away from Benny. It’s the lesson we need to take to heart.”

“For a young boy, it’s hard to remember. We have to learn things the hard way, it seems.” He gave her a lopsided grin, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She acted flustered. Why? She’d put a stop to the fight as quickly as she could. “Like the time your brothers and I got too close to a hive and got stung. I guess that’s what people mean by a painful lesson.”

“Most lessons are.”

“Well, it was a very painful one.” He hurried on before she could leave. “I’ve heard you used to raise alpacas.”

“Just a pair. Are you planning to raise them on your grandparents’ farm?”

“Not planning. They’re already there. Apparently my grossmammi fell in love with the creatures and decided to buy some when she and my grossdawdi stopped milking. I don’t know the first thing about alpacas, other than how to feed them. I was hoping you could share what you learned.” He didn’t add that if he couldn’t figure out a way to use the animals to make money, he’d have to sell them and probably the farm itself next spring.

When she glanced at the school again, he said, “Not right now, of course.”

“I’d like to help, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

“I won’t need a lot of your time. Just enough to point me in the right direction.”

She hesitated.

He could tell she didn’t want to tell him no, but her mind was focused on the kinder now. Maybe he should leave and come back again, but he didn’t have time to wait. The farm was more deeply in debt than he’d guessed before he came to Paradise Springs. He hadn’t guessed his grandparents had spent so wildly on buying the animals that they had to borrow money for keeping them. Few plain folks their age took out a loan because it could become a burden on the next generation. Now it was his responsibility to repay it.

Inspiration struck when he looked from her to the naughty boys. It was a long shot, but he’d suggest anything if there was a chance to save his family’s farm.

“Bring your scholars to see the alpacas,” he said. “I can ask my questions, and so can they. You can answer them for all of us. It’ll be fun for them. Remember how we liked a break from schoolwork? They would, too, I’m sure.”

She didn’t reply for a long minute, then nodded. “They probably would be really interested.”

He grinned. “Why don’t I drive my flatbed wagon over here? I can give the kinder a ride on it both ways.”

“Gut. Let me know which day works best for you, and I’ll tell the parents we’re going there. Some of them may want to join us.”

“We’ll make an adventure out of it, like when we were kinder.”

Color flashed up her face before vanishing, leaving her paler than before.

“Was iss letz?” he asked.

“Nothing is wrong,” she replied so hastily he guessed she wasn’t being honest. “I—”

A shout came from the porch where the bigger boy was walking past Jacob. The younger boy was on his feet, his fists clenched again.

She ran toward them, calling over her shoulder, “We’ll have to talk about this later.”

“I’ll come over tonight. We’ll talk then.”

Nathaniel wondered if she’d heard him because she was already steering the boys into the school. Her soft voice reached him. Not the words, but the gently chiding tone. He guessed she was reminding them that they needed to settle their disputes without violence. He wondered if they’d listen and what she’d have to do if they didn’t heed her.

As she closed the door, she looked at him and mouthed, See you tonight.

“Gut!” he said as he walked to where he’d left his wagon on the road. He smiled. He’d been wanting to stop by the Stoltzfus farm, so her invitation offered the perfect excuse. It would be a fun evening, and for the first time since he’d seen the alpacas, he dared to believe that with what Esther could teach him about the odd creatures, he might be able to make a go of the farm.

Chapter Two

The Stoltzfus family farm was an easy walk from the school. Esther went across a field, along two different country roads, and then up the long lane to the only house she’d ever lived in. She’d been born there. Her daed had been as well, and his daed before him.

After Daed had passed away, her mamm had moved into the attached dawdi haus while Esther managed the main house. She’d hand over those duties when her older brother Ezra married, which she guessed would be before October was over, because he spent every bit of his free time with their neighbor Leah Beiler. Their wedding day was sure to be a joyous one.

Though she never would have admitted it, Esther was looking forward to giving the responsibilities of a household with five bachelor brothers to Leah. Even with one of her older brothers married, another widowed and her older sister off tending a family of her own, the housework was never-ending. Esther enjoyed cooking and keeping the house neat, but she was tired of mending a mountain of work clothes while trying to prepare lesson plans for the next day. Her brothers worked hard, whether on the farm or in construction or at the grocery store, and their clothes reflected that. She and Mamm never caught up.

Everything in her life had been in proper order...until Nathaniel Zook came to her school that afternoon. She was amazed she hadn’t heard he was in Paradise Springs. If she’d known, maybe she’d have been better prepared. He’d grown up, but it didn’t sound as if he’d changed. He still liked adventures if he intended to keep alpacas instead of the usual cows or sheep or goats on his farm. That made him a man she needed to steer clear of, so she could avoid the mistakes she’d made with Alvin Lee.

But how could she turn her back on helping him? It was the Amish way to give assistance when it was requested. She couldn’t mess up Nathaniel’s life because she was appalled by how she’d nearly ruined her own by chasing excitement.

His suggestion that she bring the scholars to his farm would focus attention on the kinder. She’d give them a fun day while they learned about something new, something that might be of use to them in the future. Who could guess now which one of them would someday have alpacas of his or her own?

That thought eased her disquiet enough that Esther could admire the trees in the front yard. They displayed their autumnal glory. Dried leaves were already skittering across the ground on the gentle breeze. Ezra’s Brown Swiss cows grazed near the white barn. The sun was heading for the horizon, a sure sign milking would start soon. Dinner for her hungry brothers needed to be on the table by the time chores were done and the barn tidied up for the night.

When she entered the comfortable kitchen with its pale blue walls and dark wood cabinets, Esther was surprised to see her twin brothers there. They were almost five years older than she was, and they’d teased her, when they were kinder, of being an afterthought. She’d fired back with jests of her own, and they’d spent their childhoods laughing. No one took offense while they’d been climbing trees, fishing in the creek and doing tasks to help keep the farm and the house running.

Her twin brothers weren’t identical. Daniel had a cleft in his chin and Micah didn’t. There were other differences in the way they talked and how they used their hands to emphasize words. Micah asserted he was a half inch taller than his twin, but Esther couldn’t see it. They were unusual in one important way—they didn’t share a birthday. Micah had been born ten minutes before midnight, and Daniel a half hour later, a fact Micah never allowed his “baby” brother to forget.

Both twins had a glass of milk in one hand and a stack of snickerdoodles in the other. Their bare feet stuck out from where they sat at the large table in the middle of the kitchen.

“You’re home early,” she said as she hung her bonnet and satchel on pegs by the back door. The twins’ straw hats hung among the empty pegs, which would all be in use by the time the family sat down for dinner.

“We’re finished at the project in Lititz,” Daniel said. He was a carpenter, as was Micah, but the older twin specialized in building windmills and installing solar panels. However, the two men were equally skilled with a hammer. “Time to hand it over to the electricians and plumbers. Micah already went over what needed to be done to connect the roof panels to the main electrical box.”

“You’ve been working on that house a long time,” she said as she opened the refrigerator door and took out the leftover ham she planned to reheat for dinner. “It must be a big one.”

“You know how Englischers are.” Micah chuckled. “They move out to Lancaster County to live the simple life and then decide they need lots of gadgets and rooms to store them in. This house has a real movie theater.”

She began cutting the ham into thick slices. “You’re joking.”

“Would we do that?” Daniel asked with fake innocence before he took the final bite of his last cookie.

“Ja.”

“Ja,” echoed Micah, folding his arms on the table. “We’re being honest. The house is as big as our barn.”

Esther tried to imagine why anyone would need a house that size, but she couldn’t. At one point, there had been eleven of them living in the Stoltzfus farmhouse along with her grandparents in the small dawdi haus, and there had been plenty of room.

Daniel stretched before he yawned. “Sorry. It was an early morning.”

“You’ll want to stay awake. An old friend of yours is stopping by tonight.”

“Who?” Micah asked.

She could tell them, but it served her brothers right to let their curiosity stew a bit longer. Smiling, she said, “Someone who inherited a farm on Zook Road.”

The twins exchanged a disbelieving glance before Daniel asked, “Are you talking about Nate Zook?”

“He calls himself Nathaniel now.”

“He’s back in Paradise Springs?” he asked.

“Ja.”

“It’s been almost ten years since the last time we saw him.” With a pensive expression, Micah rubbed his chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Remember, Daniel? He came out from Indiana to spend the summer with his grandparents the year after his family moved.”

Daniel chuckled. “His grossmammi made us chocolate shoo-fly pie the day before he left. One of the best things I’ve ever tasted. Do you remember, Esther?”

“No.” She was glad she had her back to them as she placed ham slices in the cast-iron fry pan. Her face was growing warm as she thought again of Nathaniel’s visit and how she’d made a complete fool of herself. Hurrying to the cellar doorway, she got the bag of potatoes that had been harvested a few weeks ago. She’d make mashed potatoes tonight. Everyone liked them, and she could release some of her pent-up emotions while smashing them.

“Oh, that’s right,” Daniel said. “You decided you didn’t want to play with us boys any longer. You thought it was a big secret why, but we knew.”

She looked over her shoulder before she could halt herself. “You did?” How many more surprises was she going to have today? First, Nathaniel Zook showed up at her school, and now her brother was telling her he’d known why she stopped going to the Zook farm. Had Nathaniel told him about her brash stupidity of announcing she planned to marry him one day?

“Ja.” Jabbing his brother with his elbow, Micah said, “You had a big crush on Nate. Giggled whenever you were around him.”

She wanted to take them by the shoulders and shake them and tell them how wrong they were. She couldn’t. That would be a lie. She’d had a big crush on Nathaniel. He was the only boy she knew who wasn’t annoyed because she could outrun him or hit a ball as well as he did. He’d never tried to make her feel she was different from other girls because she preferred being outside to working beside her mamm in the house. Not once had he picked on her because she did well at school, like some of the other boys had.

That had happened long ago. She needed to put it out of her head. Nathaniel must have forgotten—or at least forgiven her—since he came to ask a favor today. She’d follow his lead for once and act as if the mortifying day had never happened.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Esther said, lifting her chin as she carried the potatoes to the sink to wash them. “I was a little girl.”

“Who had a big crush on Nate Zook.” Her brothers laughed as if Micah had said the funniest thing ever. “We’ll have to watch and see if she drools when he walks in.”

“Stop teasing your sister,” Mamm said as she came through the door from the dawdi haus. She’d moved in preparation for Ezra’s marriage. Though neither Ezra nor Leah spoke of their plans to marry, everyone suspected they’d be among the first couples having their intentions published at the next church Sunday.

“Well, she needs to marry someone,” Micah said with a broad grin. “She can’t seem to make up her mind about the guys around here. Just like Danny-boy can’t decide on one girl.” He poked his elbow at his twin again, but Daniel moved aside.

“Why settle for one when there are plenty of pretty ones willing to let me take them home?” Daniel asked.

Esther was startled to see his smile wasn’t reflected in his eyes. His jesting words were meant to hide his true feelings. The twins were popular with young people in their district and the neighboring ones. They were fun and funny. What was Daniel concealing behind his ready grin?

More questions, and she didn’t need more questions. She already had enough without any answers. The marriage season for the Amish began in October. As it approached, she’d asked herself if she should try walking out with another young man. Maybe that would be the best way to put Alvin Lee and his betrayal out of her mind. But she wasn’t ready to risk her heart again.

Better to be wise than to be sorry. How many times had she heard Mamm say those words? She’d discovered the wisdom in them by learning the truth the hard way. She’d promised herself to be extra careful with her heart from now on.

After giving her mamm a hug, Esther finished preparing their supper. She was grateful for Mamm’s assistance because she felt clumsy as she hadn’t since she first began helping in the kitchen. Telling herself to focus, she avoided cutting herself as she peeled potatoes. Her brothers were too busy teasing each other to notice how her fingers shook.

Danki, Lord, for small blessings.

She put the reheated ham, buttered peas and a large bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. Mamm finished slicing the bread Esther had made before school that morning and put platters at either end along with butter and apple butter. While Esther retrieved the cabbage salad and chowchow from the refrigerator, her mamm filled a pitcher with water.

The door opened, and Ezra came in with a metal half-gallon milk can. In his other hand he carried a generous slab of his fragrant, homemade cheese. He called a greeting before stepping aside to let three more brothers enter. They’d been busy at the Stoltzfus Family Shops closer to the village of Paradise Springs. Amos set fresh apple cider from his grocery store in the center of the table.

As soon as they sat together at the table, Ezra, as the oldest son present, bowed his head. It was the signal for the meal’s silent grace.

Esther quickly offered her thanks, then added a supplication that she’d be able to help Nathaniel without complications. To be honest, she’d enjoy teaching him how to raise alpacas and harvest the wondrously soft wool they grew.

As she raised her head when Ezra cleared his throat, she glanced around the table at her brothers and mamm. She had a gut life with her family and her scholars and her community. She didn’t need adventure. Not her own or anyone else’s. How she would have embarrassed her family if they’d heard of her partying with Alvin Lee and his friends! She could have lost her position as teacher, as well as shamed her family.

Learn from your failures, or you’ll fail to learn. A poster saying that hung in the schoolroom. She needed to remember those words and hold them close to her heart. She vowed to do so, starting that very second.

* * *

As Nathaniel drove his buggy into the farm lane leading to the large white farmhouse where the Stoltzfus family lived, he couldn’t keep from grinning. He’d looked forward to seeing them as much as he had his grandparents when he’d spent a summer in Paradise Springs years ago. Micah and Daniel had imaginations that had cooked up mischief to keep their summer days filled with adventures. Not even chores could slow down their laugh-filled hours.

Then there was Esther. She’d been brave enough to try anything and never quailed before a challenge. The twins had been less willing to accept every dare he posed. Not Esther. He remembered the buzz of excitement he’d felt the afternoon she’d agreed to jump from the second story hayloft if he did.

He knew he was going to have to be that gutsy if he hoped to save his grandparents’ farm. It’d been in the family for generations, and he didn’t want to be the one to sell it. Even if he couldn’t have kinder of his own to inherit it, his two oldest sisters were already married with bopplin. One of them might want to take over the farm, and he didn’t want to lose it because he hadn’t learned quickly enough.

Esther agreeing to help him with the alpacas might be the saving grace he’d prayed for. If it wasn’t, he could be defeated before he began.

No, I’m not going to think that way. I’m not going to give up before I’ve barely begun. He got out of the buggy. Things were going to get better. Starting now. He had to believe God’s hands were upon the inheritance that gave him a chance to make his dream of running his own farm come true.

He strode toward the white house’s kitchen door. Nobody used the front door except for church Sundays and funerals. The house and white outbuildings hadn’t changed much in ten years. There was a third silo by the largest barn, and instead of the black-and-white cows Esther’s daed used to milk, grayish-brown cattle stood in the pasture. The chicken coop was closer to the house than he remembered, and extra buggies and wagons were parked beneath the trees.

He paused at the door. He’d never knocked at the Stoltzfus house before, but somehow it didn’t feel right to walk in. Too many years had passed since the last time he’d come to the farm.

“Why are you standing on the steps?” came a friendly female voice as the door swung open. “Komm in, Nate. We’re about to enjoy some snitz pie.”

Wanda Stoltzfus, Esther’s mamm, looked smaller than he remembered. He knew she hadn’t shrunk; he’d grown. Her hair had strands of gray woven through it, but her smile was as warm as ever.

“Did you make the pie?” he asked, delighted to see the welcome in eyes almost the same shade as her daughter’s.

“Do you think I’d trust anyone, even my own kinder, with my super secret recipe for dried-apple pie while there’s breath in these old bones?” She stepped aside and motioned for him to come in.

“You aren’t old, Wanda,” he replied.

“And you haven’t lost an ounce of the charm you used as a boy to try to wheedle extra treats from me.”

He heard a snicker and looked past her. Esther was at the stove, pouring freshly brewed kaffi into one cup after the other. The sound hadn’t come from her, but his gaze had riveted on her. She looked pretty and somehow younger and more vulnerable now that she was barefoot and had traded her starched kapp for a dark kerchief over her golden hair. He could see the little girl she’d been transposed over the woman she had become, and his heart gave a peculiar little stutter.

What was that? He hadn’t felt its like before, and he wasn’t sure what was causing it now. Esther was his childhood friend. Why was he nervous?

Hearing another laugh, Nathaniel pulled his gaze from her and looked at the table where six of the seven Stoltzfus brothers were gathered. Joshua, whom he’d recently heard had married again after the death of his first wife, and Ruth, the oldest, who had been wed long enough to have given her husband a houseful of kinder, were missing. A pulse of sorrow pinched at him because he noticed Ezra was sitting where Paul, the family’s late patriarch, had sat. Paul had welcomed him into the family as if Nathaniel were one of his own sons.

Nathaniel stared at the men rising from the table. It was startling to see his onetime childhood playmates grown up. He’d known time hadn’t stood still for them. Yet the change was greater than he’d guessed. Isaiah wore a beard that was patchy and sparse. He must be married, though Nathaniel hadn’t heard about it. All the Stoltzfus brothers were tall, well-muscled from hard work and wore friendly smiles.

Then the twins opened their mouths and asked him how he liked running what they called the Paradise Springs Municipal Zoo. Nothing important had changed, he realized. They enjoyed teasing each other and everyone around them, and he was their chosen target tonight. Nothing they said was cruel. They poked fun as much at themselves as anyone else. Their eyes hadn’t lost the mischievous glint that warned another prank was about to begin.

For the first time since he’d returned to Paradise Springs, he didn’t feel like a stranger. He was among friends.

Nathaniel sat at the large table. When Esther put a slice of pie and a steaming cup of kaffi in front of him, he thanked her. She murmured something before hurrying away to bring more cups to the table. He had no chance to talk to her because her brothers kept him busy with questions. He was amazed to learn that Jeremiah, who’d been all thumbs as a boy, now was a master woodworker, and Isaiah was a blacksmith as well as one of the district’s ministers. Amos leaned over to whisper that Isaiah’s young bride had died a few months earlier, soon after Isaiah had been chosen by lot to be the new minister.

Saddened by the family’s loss, he knew he should wait until he had a chance to talk to Isaiah alone before he expressed his condolences. He sensed how hard Isaiah was trying to join in the gut humor around the table.

Nathaniel answered their questions about discovering the alpacas on the farm and explained how he planned to plant the fields in the spring. “Right now, the fields are rented to neighbors, so I can’t cut a single blade of grass to feed those silly creatures this winter.”

“You’re staying in Paradise Springs?” Wanda asked.

“That’s my plan.” His parents weren’t pleased he’d left Indiana, though they’d pulled up roots in Lancaster County ten years ago. He’d already received half a dozen letters from his mamm pleading for him to come home. She acted as if he’d left the Amish to join the Englisch world.

“Wunderbaar, Nate... I mean, Nathaniel.” Wanda smiled.

“Call me whichever you wish. It doesn’t matter.”

“I know your family must be pleased to have you take over the farm that has been in Zook hands for generations. It is gut to know it’ll continue in the family.”

“Ja.” He sounded as uncertain as he felt. The generations to come might be a huge problem. He reminded himself to be optimistic and focus on the here and now. Once he made the farm a success, his nephews and nieces would be eager to take it over.

His gaze locked with Esther’s. He hadn’t meant to let it happen, but he couldn’t look away. There was much more to her now than the little girl she’d been. He had a difficult time imagining her at the teacher’s desk instead of among the scholars, sending him and her brothers notes filled with plans for after school.

Esther the Pester was what they’d called her then, but he’d been eager to join in with the fun she proposed. He wondered if she were as avid to entertain her scholars. No wonder everyone praised her teaching.

Ezra said his name in a tone suggesting he’d been trying to get Nathaniel’s attention. Breaking free of his memories was easier than cutting the link between his eyes and Esther’s. He wasn’t sure he could have managed it if she hadn’t looked away.

Recalling what Ezra had asked, Nathaniel said, “I’ve got a lot to learn to be a proper farmer. Esther agreed to help me with the alpacas.”

“Don’t let her tell you Daniel and I tried roping hers,” Micah said with a laugh. “It was an innocent misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding? Yes,” Esther retorted. “Innocent? I don’t think so. Poor Pepe and Delfina were traumatized for weeks.”

“The same amount of time it took to get the reek of their spit off me.” Micah wrinkled his nose. “Watch out, Nathaniel. They’re docile most of the time but they have a secret weapon. Their spit can leave you gagging for days.”

Nathaniel grinned. “I’m glad you two learned that disgusting lesson instead of me.” He noticed Esther was smiling broadly. “I hope, Ezra, you don’t mind me asking you about a thousand questions about working the fields.”

“Of course not, though it’d be better to wait to ask until after the first of the year.” He reached for another piece of pie.

Nathaniel started to ask why, then saw the family’s abruptly bland faces. Ezra must be getting married. His mamm and brothers and Esther were keeping the secret until the wedding was announced. They must like his future bride and looked forward to her becoming a part of their family along with any kinder she and Ezra might have.

He kept his sigh silent. Assuming he ever found a woman who would consider marrying him, having a single kind of his own might be impossible. He’d been thirteen when he was diagnosed with leukemia. That had been after the last summer he’d spent in Paradise Springs with his grandparents. For the next year, he’d undergone treatments and fought to recover. Chemo and radiation had defeated the cancer, but he’d been warned the chemo that had saved his life made it unlikely he’d ever be a daed. He thought he’d accepted it as God’s will, but, seeing the quiet joy in Ezra Stoltzfus’s eyes was a painful reminder of what he would never have. He couldn’t imagine a woman agreeing to marry him once she knew the truth.

When the last of the pie was gone, the table cleared and thanks given once more, Nathaniel knew it was time to leave. Everyone had to be up before the sun in the morning.

As he stood, he asked as casually as he could, “Esther, will you walk to my buggy with me?”

Her brothers and mamm regarded him with as much astonishment as if he’d announced he wanted to discuss a trip to the moon. Did they think he was planning to court her? He couldn’t, not when he couldn’t give Esther kinder. She loved them. He’d seen that at the school.

“I’ve got a few questions about your scholars visiting the farm,” he hurried to add.

“All right.” Esther came to her feet with the grace she hadn’t had as a little girl. Walking around the table, she went to the door. She pulled on her black sneakers and bent to tie them.

The night, when they stepped outside, was cool, but crisp in the way fall nights were. The stars seemed closer than during the summer, and the moon was beginning to rise over the horizon. It was a brilliant orange. Huge, it took up most of the eastern sky.

Under his boots, the grass was slippery with dew. It wouldn’t be long before the dampness became frost. The seasons were gentler and slower here than in northern Indiana. He needed to become attuned to their pace again.

Esther’s steps were soft as she walked beside him while they made arrangements for the scholars’ trip. He smiled when she asked if it would be okay for the kinder to have their midday meal at the farm.

“That way, we can have time for desk work when we return,” she said.

“I’ll make sure I have drinks for the kinder, so they don’t have to bring those.”

“That’s kind of you, Nathaniel.” She offered him another warm smile. “I want to say danki again for helping me stop the fight this afternoon.”

“Do you have many of them?”

“Ja, and Jacob seems to be involved in each one.”

He frowned. “Is there something wrong with the boy that he can’t settle disagreements other than with his fists?” The wrong question to ask, he realized when she bristled.

“Nothing is wrong with him.” She took a steadying breath, then said more calmly, “Forgive me. You can’t know how it is. Jacob has had a harder time than most kids. He lives with his onkel, actually his daed’s onkel. The man is too old to be taking care of a kind, but apparently he’s the boy’s sole relative. At least Jacob has him. The poor boy has seen things no kind should see.”

“What do you mean?” He stopped beneath the great maple tree at the edge of the yard.

She explained how Jacob’s parents had been killed and the boy badly hurt, physically and emotionally. Nathaniel’s heart contracted with the thought of a kind suffering such grief.

“After the accident,” she said, “we checked everywhere for other family, even putting a letter in The Budget.”

He knew the newspaper aimed at and written by correspondents in plain communities was read throughout the world. “Nobody came forward?”

“Nobody.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Maybe that’s why Jacob is angry. He believes everyone, including God, has abandoned him. He blames God for taking his mamm and daed right in front of his eyes. Why should he obey Jesus’s request that we turn the other cheek and forgive those who treat us badly when, in Jacob’s opinion, God has treated him worse than anyone on Earth could?”

“Anger at God eats at your soul. He has time to wait for your fury to run its course and still He forgives you.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience.”

“It is.” He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her about the chemo. It was too personal a subject to share, even with Esther.

She said nothing, clearly expecting him to continue. When he didn’t, she bid him good-night and started to turn away.

He put his hand on her arm as he’d done many times when they were kids. She looked at him, and the moonlight washed across her face. Who would have guessed a freckle-faced imp would mature into such a pretty woman? That odd sensation uncurled in his stomach again when she gazed at him, waiting for him to speak. Another change, because the Esther he’d known years ago wouldn’t have waited on anything before she plunged headlong into her next adventure.

“Danki for agreeing to teach me about alpacas.”

He watched her smile return and brighten her face. “I know how busy you are, but without your help I might have to sell the flock.”

“Herd,” she said with a laugh. “Sheep are a flock. Alpacas are a herd.”

“See? I’m learning already.”

“You’ve got much more to learn.”

He grinned. “You used to like when I had to listen to you.”

“Still do. I’ll let you know when I’ve contacted the scholars’ parents, and we’ll arrange a day for them to visit.” She patted his arm and ran into the house, her skirts fluttering behind her.

With a chuckle, he climbed into his buggy. He might not know a lot about alpacas, but he knew the lessons to come wouldn’t be boring as long as Esther was involved.

Chapter Three

Nathaniel stepped down from his wagon and past the pair of mules hooked to it. There would be about twenty-two kinder along with, he guessed, at least one or two mamms to help oversee the scholars. Add in Esther and her assistant teacher. It was a small load, so it would give the mules, Sal and Gal, some gentle exercise. Tomorrow, he needed them to fetch a large load of hay. He’d store it in the barn to feed the animals during the winter.

The scholars were milling about in front of the school, their excited voices like a flock of blue jays. He was glad he’d left his mutze coat, the black wool coat plain men wore to church services, home on the warm morning and had his black vest on over his white shirt. His black felt hat was too hot, and he’d trade it for his straw one as soon as he got to the farm.

A boy ran over to be the first on the wagon. He halted, and Nathaniel recognized him from the scab on the corner of his mouth. It was the legacy of the punch Benny had taken from Jacob Fisher last week.

“Gute mariye,” Nathaniel said with a smile.

The boy watched him with suspicion, saying nothing.

“How’s the lip?” Nathaniel asked. “It looks sore.”

“It is,” Benny replied grudgingly.

“Have your mamm put a dab of hand lotion on it to keep the skin soft, so it can heal. Try to limit your talking. You don’t want to keep breaking it open.”

The boy started to answer, then raised his eyebrows in a question.

“A day or two will allow it to heal. If you’ve got to say something, think it over first and make sure it’s worth the pain that follows.”

Benny nodded, then his eyes widened when he understood the true message in Nathaniel’s suggestion. Keeping his mouth closed would help prevent him from saying something that could lead to a fight. The boy looked at the ground, then claimed his spot at the very back of the wagon bed where the ride would be the bumpiest.

Hoping what he said would help Esther by preventing another fight, Nathaniel walked toward the school. He was almost there when she stepped out and closed the door behind her. Today she wore a dark blue dress beneath her black apron. The color was the perfect foil for her eyes and her hair, which was the color of spun caramel.

“Right on time, Nathaniel,” she said as she came down the steps. He tried to connect the prim woman she was now with the enthusiastic kind she’d been. It was almost impossible, and he couldn’t help wondering what had quashed her once high spirits.

“I know you don’t like to wait,” he said instead of asking the questions he wanted to.

“Neither does anyone else.” She put her arms around two of the kinder closest to her, and they looked at her with wide grins.

He helped her get the smaller ones on the wagon where they’d be watched by the older scholars. He wasn’t surprised when Jacob found a place close to the front. The boy sat as stiffly as a cornstalk, making it clear he didn’t want anyone near him.

Esther glanced at Nathaniel. He could tell she was frustrated at not being able to reach the kind. He’d added Jacob to his prayers and hoped God would bring the boy comfort. As He’d helped Nathaniel during the horrific rounds of chemo and the wait afterward to discover if the cancer had been vanquished.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” he whispered.

“Me, too.” She smiled again, but it wasn’t as bright. After she made sure nobody had forgotten his or her lunch box, she sat on the seat with him.

He’d hoped to get time to chat with Esther during the fifteen minute drive to his farm, but she spent most of the ride looking over her shoulder to remind the scholars not to move close to the edges or to suggest a song for them to sing. Her assistant and the two mamms who’d joined them were kept busy with making sure the lunch boxes didn’t bounce off. As they passed farmhouses, neighbors waved to them, and the kinder shouted they were going to see the alpacas.

“Nobody has any secrets with them around, do they?” Nathaniel grinned as the scholars began singing again.

“None whatsoever.” Esther laughed. “It’s one of the first lessons I learned. I love my job so I don’t mind having everything I do and say at school repeated to parents each night.”

“It sounds, from what I’ve heard, as if the parents are pleased.”

A flush climbed her cheeks. “The kinder are important to all of us.”

He looked past the mules’ ears so she couldn’t see his smile. Esther was embarrassed by his compliment. If the scholars hadn’t been in earshot, he would have teased her about blushing.

Telling the kinder to hold on tight, he turned the wagon in at the lane leading to his grandparents’ farm. To his farm. This morning, he’d received another letter from his mamm, begging him to return to Indiana instead of following his dreams in Paradise Springs. He must find a gentle way to let her know, once and for all, that he wanted to remain in Lancaster County. And he’d suggest she find the best words to let Vernita Miller know, as well. He didn’t intend to marry Vernita, no matter how often the young woman had hinted he should. She’d find someone else. Perhaps his gut friend Dwayne Kempf who was sweet on her.

He shook thoughts of his mamm, Indiana and Vernita out of his head as he drew in the reins and stopped the wagon near the barn. Like the house, it needed a new coat of white paint. He’d started on the big project of fixing all the buildings when he could steal time from taking care of the animals, but, so far, only half of one side of the house was done.

“There they are!” came a shout from the back.

Jumping down, Nathaniel smiled when he saw the excited kinder pointing at the alpacas near the pasture fence. He heard a girl describe them as “adorable.” Their long legs and neck were tufted with wool. Around their faces, more wool puffed like an aura.

The alpacas raced away when the scholars poured off the wagon.

“Where are they going?” a little girl asked him as he lifted her down.

“To get the others,” he replied, though he knew the skittish creatures wanted to flee as far as possible from the noisy kinder.

Esther put her finger to her lips. “You must be quiet. Be like little mice sneaking around a sleeping cat.”

The youngest scholars giggled. She asked each little one to take the hand of an older child. A few of the boys, including Jacob, which was no surprise, refused to hold anyone else’s hand. Esther told them to remain close to the others and not to speak loudly.

“Where do you want us, Nathaniel?” she asked. “By the fence is probably best. What do you think?”

“You’re the expert.”

She led the kinder to the wooden fence backed by chicken wire, making sure the littler ones could see. “Can you name some of the alpacas’ cousins?”

“Llamas!” called a boy.

She nodded, but motioned for him to lower his voice as the alpacas shifted nervously. “Llamas are one of their cousins. Can you tell me another?”

“Horses?” asked a girl.

“No.”

“Cows?”

“No.” She pointed at the herd after letting the scholars make a few more guesses. “Alpacas are actually cousins of camels.”

“Like the ones the Wise Men rode?” asked Jacob.

Nathaniel saw Esther’s amazement, though it was quickly masked. She was shocked the boy was participating, but he heard no sign of it in her voice when she assured Jacob he was right. That set off a buzz of more questions from the scholars.

The boy turned to look at the pasture, again separating himself from the others though he stood among them. The single breakthrough was a small victory. He could tell by the lilt in Esther’s voice how delighted she’d been with Jacob’s question.

The scholars’ eager whispers followed Nathaniel as he entered the pasture through the barn. He’d try to herd the alpacas closer so the kinder could get a better look at them. His hopes were dashed when the alpacas evaded him as they always did. They resisted any attempt to move them closer to the scholars. If he jogged to the right, they went left. If he moved forward, they trotted away and edged around him. He could almost hear alpaca laughter.

“Let me,” Esther called. She bunched up her dress and climbed over the fence as if she were one of the kinder. She brought a pair of thin branches, each about a yard long. As she crossed the pasture, she motioned for him to stand by the barn.

“Watch the kinder,” she said. “I’ll get an alpaca haltered, so we can bring it closer for them to see.”

Curious about how she was going to do that, he watched her walk toward the herd with slow, even steps. She spoke softly, nonsense words from what he could discern.

She held the branches out to either side of her. He realized she was using them like a shepherd’s crook to move the alpacas into the small shed at the rear of the pasture. He edged forward to see what she’d do once they were inside. He’d wondered what the shed with its single large pen was for. He hadn’t guessed it was to corner the alpacas to make it easier to handle them.

She lifted a halter off a peg once the alpacas were in the pen. She chose a white-and-brown one who was almost as tall as she was. Moving to the animal’s left, she gently slid the halter over its nose and behind its ears. The animal stood as docile as a well-trained dog, nodding its head when Esther checked to make sure the buckled halter was high enough on the nose that it wouldn’t prevent the animal from breathing.

Latching a rope to the halter, Esther walked the alpaca from the shed. The other animals trotted behind her, watching her. Esther stayed on the alpaca’s left side and an arm’s length away. The alpaca followed her easily, but shied as she neared the fence where the kinder stood.

One kind pushed closer to the fence. Jacob! The boy’s gaze was riveted on the alpaca. His usual anger was fading into something that wasn’t a smile, but close.

Nathaniel wondered if Esther had noticed, but couldn’t tell because her back was to him. Again she warned the scholars to be silent. Their eyes were curious but none of them stuck their fingers past the fence.

Esther looked over her shoulder at him. “You can come closer. Stay to her left side.”

“You made it look easy,” Nathaniel replied with admiration.

“Any task is easy when you know what you’re doing.” She winked at the scholars. “Like multiplication tables, ain’t so?”

The younger ones giggled.

“Be careful it doesn’t spit at you,” Nathaniel warned the kinder.

“It won’t.” Esther patted the alpaca’s head as the scholars edged back.

“Don’t be sure. When I put them out this morning, this one started spitting at the others. She hasn’t acted like that before.”

“Were the males in there, too?”

He nodded. Before he’d gone to the school, he’d spent a long hour separating the males out because he feared they’d be aggressive near the kinder.

“Then,” Esther said with a smile, “my guess is she’s going to have a cria.”

“A what?”

She laughed and nudged his shoulder with hers. “A boppli, Nathaniel.”

The ordinary motion had anything but an ordinary effect on his insides. A ripple of awareness rushed through him like a powerful train. Had she felt it, too? He couldn’t be sure because the scholars clapped their hands in delight. She was suddenly busy keeping the alpaca from pulling away in fear at the noise, but she calmed the animal.

“I’m going to need you to tell me what to do,” Nathaniel said, glad his voice sounded calmer than he felt as he struggled to regain his equilibrium.

“There’s no hurry. An alpaca is pregnant for at least eleven months, but she’ll need to be examined by the vet to try to determine how far along she is.”

As she continued to talk about the alpacas to her scholars, he sent a grateful prayer to God for Esther’s help. His chances of making the farm a success were much greater than they’d been. He wasn’t going to waste a bit of the time or the information she shared with him.

No, he assured himself as he watched her. He wasn’t going to waste a single second.

* * *

Esther walked to the farmhouse, enjoying the sunshine. The trees along the farm lane were aflame with color against the bright blue sky. Not a single cloud blemished it. Closer to the ground, mums in shades of gold, orange and dark red along the house’s foundation bobbed on a breeze that barely teased her nape.

She’d left the scholars with Nathaniel while she checked the alpacas. Though he didn’t know much about them, he’d made sure they were eating well. She’d seen no sores on their legs. They hadn’t been trying to get out of the pasture, so they must be content with what he provided.

Hearing shouts from the far side of the house, she walked in that direction. She hadn’t planned to take so long with the alpacas, but it’d been fun to be with the silly creatures again. Their fleece was exceptionally soft, and their winter coats were growing in well. By the time they were sheared in the spring, Nathaniel would have plenty of wool to sell.

She came around the house and halted. On the sloping yard, Nathaniel was surrounded by the scholars. Jay, the oldest, was helping keep the kinder in a line. What were they doing?

Curious, she walked closer. She was amazed to see cardboard boxes torn apart and placed end to end on the grass. Two boxes were intact. As she watched, Nathaniel picked up a little girl and set her in one box. She giggled and gripped the front of it.

“All set?” he asked.

“Ja!” the kind shouted.

Nathaniel glanced at Jay and gave the box a slight shove. It sailed down the cardboard “slide” like a toboggan on snow. He kept pace with it on one side while Jay did on the other. They caught the box at the end of the slide before it could tip over and spill the kind out.

Picking her up again, Nathaniel swung her around. Giggling, she ran up the hill as a bigger boy jumped into the other box. His legs hung out the front, but he pushed with his hands to send himself down the slide. Nathaniel swung the other box out of the way just in time.

Everyone laughed and motioned for the boxes to be brought back for the next ride. As the older boy climbed out, Esther saw it was Benny. He beamed as he gathered the boxes to carry them to the top. Nathaniel clapped him on the shoulder and grinned.

She went to stand by the porch where she could watch the kinder play. She couldn’t take her eyes off Nathaniel. He looked as happy as he had when they were kinder themselves. He clearly loved being with the youngsters. He’d be a wunderbaar daed. Seeing him with her scholars, she could imagine him acting like her own daed.

Her most precious memories of Daed were when he’d come into the house at midday and pick her up. They’d bounce around the kitchen table singing a silly song until Mamm pretended to be irritated about how they were in the way. Then they’d laugh together, and Daed would set her in her chair before chasing her brothers around the living room. If he caught them, he’d tickle them until they squealed or Mamm called everyone to the table. As they bent their heads in silent grace, their shared joy had been like a glow around them.

Watching Nathaniel with the kinder, she wanted that for him. Too bad she and he were just friends. Otherwise—

Where had that thought come from? He was her buddy, her partner in crime, her competitor to see who could run the fastest or climb the highest. She had told him she’d marry him when they were little kids, something that made her blush when she thought of how outrageously she’d acted, but they weren’t kinder any longer.

When Nathaniel called a halt to the game, saying it was time for lunch, the youngsters tried not to show their disappointment. They cheered when he said he had fresh cider waiting for them on a picnic table by the kitchen door.

They raced past Esther to get their lunch boxes. She smiled as she went to help Nathaniel collect the pieces of cardboard.

“Quite a game you have here,” she said. “Did you make it up?”

As he folded the long cardboard strips and set them upright in one of the boxes, he shook his head. “Not me alone. It’s one we played in Indiana. We invented it the summer after I couldn’t go sledding all winter.”

“Why? Were you sick?”

“Ja.”

“All winter?”

“You know how mamms can be. Always worrying.” He gathered the last bits of cardboard and dropped them into the other box. Brushing dirt off himself, he grimaced as he tapped his left knee. “Grass stains on my gut church clothes. Mamm wouldn’t be happy to see that.”

He looked very handsome in his black vest and trousers, which gave his dark hair a ruddy sheen. The white shirt emphasized his strong arms and shoulders. She’d noticed his shoulders when she tumbled against him at school.

“If you want,” she said when she realized she was staring. “I’ll clean them.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” He carried the boxes to the porch. “You’ve got enough to do keeping up with your brothers.”

“One more pair of trousers won’t make any difference.” She smiled as she walked with him toward the kitchen door. “Trust me.”

“I do, and my alpacas do, too. It was amazing how you calmed them.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t know if I can convince them to trust me as they do you. It might be impossible. Though obviously not for Esther Stoltzfus, the alpaca whisperer.”

She laughed, then halted when she saw a buggy driving at top speed along the farm lane. Even from a distance, she recognized her brother Isaiah driving it. She glanced at Nathaniel, then ran to where the buggy was stopping. Only something extremely important would cause Isaiah to leave his blacksmith shop in the middle of the day.

He climbed out, his face lined with dismay. “Esther, where are the kinder?”

“Behind the house having lunch.”

“Gut.” He looked from her to Nathaniel. “There’s no way to soften this news. Titus Fisher has had a massive stroke and is on his way to the hospital.”

Esther gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth.

“Are you here to get the boy?” asked Nathaniel.

“I’m not sure he should go to the hospital until Titus is stable.” Isaiah turned to her. “What do you think, Esther?”

“I think he needs to be told his onkel is sick, but nothing more now. No need to scare him. Taking him to the hospital can wait until we know more.”

“That’s what I thought, but you know him better than I do.” He sighed. “The poor kind. He’s already suffered enough. Tonight—”

“He can stay here,” Nathaniel said quietly.

“Are you sure?” her brother asked, surprised.

“I’ve got plenty of room,” Nathaniel said, “and the boy seems fascinated by my alpacas.”

Isaiah looked at her for confirmation.

She nodded, knowing it was the best solution under the circumstances.

“I’ll let Reuben know.” He sighed again. “Just in case.”

“Tell the bishop that Jacob can stay here as long as he needs to,” Nathaniel said.

“That should work out...unless his onkel dies. Then the Bureau of Children and Family Services will have to get involved.”

Nathaniel frowned, standing as resolute as one of the martyrs of old.

Before he could retort, Esther said, “Let’s deal with one problem at a time.” She prayed it wouldn’t get to that point. And if it did, there must be some plan to give Jacob the family he needed without Englisch interference. She had no idea what, but they needed to figure it out fast.

Chapter Four

Esther looked around for Jacob as soon as her brother left. Isaiah was bound for their bishop’s house. He and Reuben planned to hire an Englisch driver to take them to the hospital where they would check on Titus Fisher.

She wasn’t surprised Jacob had left the other scholars and gone to watch the alpacas. The boy stood by the fence, his fingers stuck through the chicken wire in an offer for the shy beasts to come over and sniff them. The alpacas were ignoring him from the far end of the pasture.

The sight almost broke her heart. Jacob, who was small for his age and outwardly fragile, stood alone as he reached out to connect with another creature.

“Are you okay?” asked Nathaniel as he walked beside her toward the pasture.

“Not really.” She squared her shoulders, knowing she must not show the kind how sorry she felt for him. Jacob reacted as badly to pity as he did to teasing. He’d endured too much during his short life.

Suddenly she stopped and put out her arm to halt Nathaniel. He frowned at her, but, putting her fingers to her lips, she whispered, “Shhh...”

In the pasture, one of the younger alpacas inched away from the others, clearly curious about the boy who had been standing by the fence for so long. The light brown female stretched out her neck and sniffed the air as if trying to determine what sort of animal Jacob was. Glancing at the rest of the herd, she took one step, then another toward him.

The boy didn’t move, but Esther guessed his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. A smile tipped his lips, the first one she’d ever seen on his face.

In the distance, the voices of the other scholars fluttered on the air, but Nathaniel and Esther remained as silent as Jacob. The alpaca’s curiosity overcame her shyness, and she continued toward the boy. His smile broadened on every step, but he kept his outstretched fingers steady.

The alpaca paused an arm’s length away, then took another step. She extended her head toward his fingertips, sniffing and curious.

Beside her, Esther heard Nathaniel whisper, “Keep going, girl. He needs you now.”

Her heart was touched by his empathy for the kind. Nathaniel’s generous spirit hadn’t changed. He’d always been someone she could depend on, the very definition of a gut friend. He still was, offering kindness to a lonely boy. Her fingers reached out to his arm, wanting to squeeze it gently to let him know how much she appreciated his understanding of what Jacob needed.

Her fingers halted midway between them as a squeal came from near the house where the other scholars must be playing a game. At the sound, the alpaca whirled and loped back to the rest of the herd.

“Almost,” Jacob muttered under his breath.

Walking to the boy, Esther fought her instinct to put her hand on his shoulder. That would send him skittering away like the curious alpaca. “It’ll take them time to trust you, Jacob, but you’ve made a gut beginning.”

When he glanced at her, for once his face wasn’t taut with determination to hide his pain. She saw something she’d never seen there before.

Hope.

“Do you think so?” he asked.

She nodded. She must be as cautious with him as she was with the alpacas. “It’ll take time and patience on your part, but eventually they learn to trust.”

“Eventually?” His face hardened into an expression no kind should ever wear. “I guess that’s that, then. We’ll be leaving for school soon, ain’t so?”

He’d given her the opening to tell him the bad news Isaiah had brought. She must tell him the truth now, but she must be careful how she told him until they were sure about Titus Fisher’s prognosis.

“Jacob, I need to tell you about something that’s happened,” she began.

“If Jay said it was my fault, he’s lying!” Jacob clenched his hands at his sides. “Benny tipped over Jay’s glass, but said I did it. I didn’t! I always tell the truth!”

Tears welled in the boy’s eyes, and she saw his desperate need for her to believe him. And she did. Unlike some kinder, Jacob always admitted what he’d done wrong...if he were caught.

She squatted in front of him, so her eyes were even with his. Aware of Nathaniel behind her, she said quietly, “Nobody has said anything about a glass. This has nothing to do with the other kinder.”

“Then what?” He was growing more wary by the second.

“I wanted to let you know your onkel isn’t feeling well, so he went to see some doktors who will try to help him.”

“Is it his heart?” Jacob’s hands loosened, and he folded his arms over his narrow chest. Was he trying to protect himself?

When she glanced at Nathaniel, he looked as shocked as she felt at the forthright question. Clearly the boy was aware of his onkel’s deteriorating health. Jacob Fisher was a smart kind. She mustn’t forget that, as the other scholars did far too often, underestimating his intelligence as well as how brittle his patience was.

“Ja,” she answered. “The doktors want to observe him. That means—”

“They want to watch what his heart does so they can find out why it’s giving him trouble.” He gave a careless shrug, but he couldn’t hide the fear burning in his eyes. “Onkel Titus explained to me the last time he went to the clinic.”

She wanted to let him know it was okay to show his distress, but she wouldn’t push. Ja, he was scared, but Titus had prepared the boy. She reminded herself that Jacob didn’t know the full extent of what had happened. For now, it would be better not to frighten him further. She didn’t want to think of what would happen if his onkel didn’t recover. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears prickling her eyes.

And that would scare Jacob more.

* * *

Nathaniel saw Esther struggling to hold on to her composure. He should have urged her to let him talk to Jacob alone. Unlike him, she knew Titus Fisher, and she must be distressed by the old man’s stroke.

He drew her to her feet. He tried to ignore the soft buzz where his palms were spread across her arms. Releasing her because he needed to focus on the boy, he was amazed when the sensation still coursed along his hands.

Trying to ignore it, he said, “Jacob, under the circumstances, I think Esther would agree with me when I say you don’t need to go back to school today.”

“I don’t?” Glee brightened his face for a moment, then it vanished. “Then I’ll have to go to my onkel’s house by myself.”

Nathaniel tried not to imagine what the boy was thinking. The idea of returning to an empty house where he’d be more alone than ever must be horrifying to Jacob. Knowing he must pick his words with care, he said, “I thought you might want to stay here.”

“With the alpacas?” Jacob’s eyes filled with anticipation.

Nathaniel struggled to keep his smile in place as he wondered if that expression would have been visible on Jacob’s face more often if he hadn’t watched his parents die and been sent to live with an elderly onkel. Titus Fisher had provided him with a gut home, or as gut as he could. The old man had protected his great-nephew from the realities of his failing health by telling him enough to make this moment easier for the boy.

What would Jacob—or Esther—say if he revealed how his own childhood had been filled with doktors and fear? His mamm had overreacted any time he got a cold, and his daed had withdrawn. If it hadn’t been for their Englisch neighbor, Reggie O’Donnell, who’d welcomed Nathaniel at his greenhouses whenever he needed an escape, there would have been no break from the drama at home. The retired engineer had let Nathaniel assist and never made him talk or wash his hands endlessly or avoid playing with other kinder because he might get some germ that would bring on another bout of what they called “the scourge.”

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