Willow Creek
Karen Ann Hopkins

One More Chapter

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

Copyright © Karen Ann Hopkins 2020

Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

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Karen Ann Hopkins asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Source ISBN: 9780008431853

Ebook Edition © October 2020 ISBN: 9780008431846

Version: 2020-09-23

Contents

Prologue

1. Katie

2. Rowan

3. Katie

4. Rowan

5. Katie

6. Rowan

7. Katie

8. Rowan

9. Katie

10. Rowan

11. Katie

12. Rowan

13. Katie

14. Rowan

15. Katie

16. Rowan

17. Katie

18. Rowan

19. Katie

20. Rowan

21. Katie

22. Rowan

23. Katie

24. Katie

25. Rowan

26. Katie

Acknowledgments

Thank You for Reading…

You Will Also Love…

About the Author

One More Chapter...

About the Publisher

Dedicated in memory of my mother.

You were my number one advocate, loved me unconditionally, and were my best friend. You were a beautiful woman, inside and out, a wonderful mother, and the best grandma ever. You’re reunited with Dad, and that makes me happy. I will think of you every day until we meet again.

Marilyn Norma Lanzalaco

11/13/1937 ~ 12/17/19

Prologue

October 2014

Willow Creek Amish Settlement, Indiana

Katie dodged the sheets of pouring rain, her boots splashing with each stride she took. A dazzling claw of lightning streaked across the sky as she grabbed for Dusty’s reins. The strawberry roan mare jumped sideways just as the crack of thunder rolled across the wet field. Katie’s fingers closed tightly around the reins. Though snapped upright and dragged a dozen feet, she didn’t dare let go.

“Shh, girl. It’s all right. Just a silly storm. No need to pitch a fit,” Katie murmured through trembling lips. Her hip and thigh throbbed with pain, and a glance downward confirmed her entire right side was plastered with mud.

Dusty threw her head up higher and when the sky lit up again, her eyes widened in fear, exposing their whites. Katie held on, moving with the horse the best she could and trying hard not to lose her own footing. The countryside was a glistening, fuzzy picture of tall grass, trees, and dark, angry clouds. She could barely see through the splattering raindrops pelting her face and stinging her eyes. Even though her sight was compromised and the storm raged in her ears, she still managed to catch a glimpse of an approaching horse.

Katie grunted in surprise. Of all the people in the world, it had to be him, she thought in surprised disgust. She dropped her head to avoid looking directly at the boy as he jumped down from his bay horse.

“Are you hurt?” Rowan shouted above the wind, his voice concerned as his gaze skimmed over her.

Before Katie had a chance to reply, the boy tossed his horse’s reins to her and grabbed onto Dusty’s.

“Whoa, girl, whoa,” Rowan cooed to the frightened horse. He was a few inches taller than Katie, and even though he had a slim, wiry build, he was still stronger than she was. Between his coaxing voice and steady hands, the horse settled into a quivering standstill. “Go on and ride Scout back to the barn. I’ll take the mare.”

The downpour subsided, leaving only spattering raindrops in its wake. Katie’s cheeks flamed hot and she narrowed her gaze at Rowan. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Dusty started bucking when the storm hit. It’s not safe to ride her.”

The corner of Rowan’s mouth twitched, then lifted a little. His usually stoic dark eyes twinkled, as if he’d just heard something funny, but was trying hard not to laugh out loud. He didn’t seem to notice the flashes of light or the battering wind. He stared back at Katie with the challenging look of an arrogant boy.

Katie’s mouth dropped open and bubbles rose in her chest. At that moment, she both hated Rowan Coblentz and admired him greatly.

A jagged finger of lightning hit the ground not far away, splitting the air with a deafening crack. Hot tingles ran up through the girl’s boots, along her body, and straight into her hair. Scout took a step back, but remained calm. Before Dusty could bolt, Rowan swung into the saddle. He was one with the horse when she crow-hopped, kicking out. The confident grin didn’t leave his face as he expertly moved with Dusty, guiding her into a sideways trot.

“Come on! We don’t want to get struck by lightning,” Rowan urged, losing some of his annoying smile. His brows lifted questioningly when Katie didn’t immediately move.

Katie was certain he’d wait there all day in the raging storm, just to prove the point that he wasn’t afraid. She wiped the water from her eyes with her arm and lifted her foot to the stirrup. She flung her leg over and grasped the horse’s sides with her legs. She dug in her heels and hung on, leaving Rowan behind without even bothering to look back.

Dusty’s heavy breathing reached Katie’s ears and she glanced over her shoulder to see the roan horse galloping a few lengths behind her.

They raced through the grass and didn’t slow when they turned onto the narrow path that went through the woods. Katie leaned forward as the fallen log came into view. Scout jumped the obstacle without losing stride. Katie pulled back on the reins just enough to watch Dusty also glide over the log. She had to admit that Rowan was an excellent rider, but only grudgingly so. Her evil side still wished Rowan would get tossed into the mud the same way she had.

By the time they slid to a stop in front of the training barn, the wind had died down to a stiff breeze and the rain had all but stopped. A shard of sunlight broke through the clouds as the storm moved away to the west.

Katie lowered herself slowly from Scout’s back, bracing her muscles as she gingerly stepped down onto her sore leg. She glanced sideways, watching Rowan dismount effortlessly. His dark brown hair was a little too long in front and he shook the wet locks to clear his vision. The suspenders over his shoulders drew her eyes, reminding her that he was her Amish neighbor ‒ a boy who had been working at the ranch for almost a year, but who had only spoken to her a handful of times. Her father had hired him to exercise the horses and clean out the stalls. The kid took his job very seriously and didn’t make time for small talk with Katie. Today was probably the most he’d ever said to her at one time.

Rowan’s sudden loosening up intrigued Katie. They were both sixteen years old. Why shouldn’t we be friends? Fixing her gaze on him, she noticed his high cheekbones and full lips. His nose curved ever so slightly and his brown eyes were wide and curious. He pinned her with a steady gaze and one cocked brow. She answered her own question. Because he’s gorgeous and my knees go weak when he looks at me.

“How did you know I fell off?” she asked pointedly, looking past him and hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremor that shook her. She handed Rowan Scout’s reins and took Dusty’s from him.

His cheeks darkened a shade and he sniffed, shifting his weight between his feet. It struck Katie as odd that he wasn’t as bold on the ground as he was when sitting on the back of a horse.

He drew in a sharp breath. “I didn’t, but I noticed how high stepping Dusty was when you left the barn with her. She sensed the coming storm, and so did I.”

Katie squinted at Rowan’s face. “So you came to my rescue?”

Rowan’s blush deepened and he dug the toe of his boot into a clump of mud. “You’re a good rider and all”—he shrugged—“but no match for that mare on a day like this.”

Katie’s mouth gaped open. She wanted to knock the smug look off his cute face. She raised her hand, pointing at Rowan’s chest, but before she could set him straight, he reached for her elbow and said, “You’re bleeding.”

Distracted by his touch and the worried look on his face, Katie followed his gaze. Rowan was right. Blood dribbled from an inch-long gash on her arm.

“Does it hurt?” Rowan asked.

Until he pointed it out, she hadn’t felt any pain. Now, as she watched the dark liquid pool in the wound, it began to throb. A rush of dizziness hit Katie like a wall, and she wobbled on suddenly jelly-like legs.

Rowan’s arm snaked out and firmly grasped her side. With his free hand, he quickly looped Scout’s reins around the hitching rail, and then tied Dusty the same efficient way. Katie let Rowan slip his arm around her waist without argument and guide her out of the brisk air and into the dim, quiet stable.

She worked up a weak smile. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Blood never bothered me before.”

Rowan helped her onto the nearest bale of hay and stepped back, appraising her with a cocked head and a frown. “You came off your horse in the middle of a downpour, jumped back on Scout, and galloped home.” He lifted his brow and Katie saw admiration shine in his eyes. “It took a toll on you.” His mouth lifted into a grin. “Or maybe it’s the sight of blood that got you. I remember when my sister, Rebecca, fainted the first time she helped me and Da butcher a steer.”

Katie swallowed down the acid that burned her throat as the image of the poor cow appeared in her mind.

“Don’t talk.”

She shook her head.

Rowan spun on his heels and sprinted down the aisle, and Katie’s head snapped back up to watch him go. Several stalled horses shied back when he rushed by. He turned into the tack room, disappearing for less than a minute. When he emerged, he held the first-aid kit in his hands. He jogged back at a slower pace than he’d left and Katie reclined against the wall, considering him.

When Katie had first laid eyes on Rowan the previous year, she’d immediately developed a secret crush. She appreciated his serious demeanor, and he brought that same quiet reserve into the saddle when he rode the horses. Over time, his aloofness had annoyed her. He’d move about the barn silently, and she was never successful at luring him into conversation or any kind of playful banter. He’d all but ignored her for months, and she’d finally given up hope of any kind of relationship with Rowan Coblentz.

Katie’s stomach clenched with discomfort that she’d been stupid enough to be smitten with someone who usually didn’t even acknowledge her existence. She snorted. “Now you’re a doctor?”

Rowan ignored her, opening the kit and pulling out a wad of gauze and the medical tape. “Not much different than bandaging a horse, I reckon.” He glanced up and there was a brightness in the brown depths Katie had never seen before. “Not that I’m comparing you to a horse or anything.”

She smiled reluctantly and held out her arm like a dutiful patient. It was an awkward place for Katie to bandage herself, she reasoned in her mind ‒ and if she pulled her brand-new hoodie on to keep from shivering, she’d get it all bloody. She didn’t want that to happen, either.

Rowan’s questioning gaze met hers. When Katie nodded once with her lips tightly pressed together, a soft flicker of surprise lit his face. He quickly recovered and went straight to work on her elbow. He applied the antiseptic wipe, dabbing the cut carefully. Then he squeezed some antibiotic ointment onto the bandage and covered the wound.

He sat back, balancing on the balls of his feet. “How’s that feel?”

Katie gingerly pressed the bandage with her fingertips and then flexed her elbow. She found the confidence to look up and saw him waiting. His lips turned down slightly and his anxious expression caused a million needle pricks in Katie’s belly.

“You did a good job.” She swallowed, forcing her eyes to meet his. “I guess all your practice on the horses has given you some people-doctoring skills, too.”

He broke out in a grin. “You’re my first patient.”

His smile was contagious and Katie finally relaxed. She liked his warm brown eyes, and his lips were curved and playful. Rowan was awfully close ‒ maybe too close. She caught the scent of horse hair, leather, and sweet hay and breathed in deeply, swaying slightly closer. Her cheeks warmed and she exhaled.

Something changed in him at that moment. His brow crinkled and his eyes widened for a second, and then the moment of confusion was gone. It was replaced by the hungry look of anticipation.

It happened so quickly, Katie didn’t have a chance to pull back when Rowan’s lips carefully touched hers. Her mind froze in shock, but also pleasure. The last thing she expected was to be kissed, but even though she should have been offended by his presumption that she wanted to be kissed, she wasn’t. He was the first boy who had even tried. Most of her friends had gotten their first kisses out of the way by the time they were fourteen, and here Katie was, a sixteen-year-old who’d not only never had a boyfriend, but who had never been kissed. Up until now, she hadn’t really fretted about it. But the thrill of having it over with, coupled with the fact that the boy kissing her was a real cutie, made her sag against Rowan and open her mouth wider to allow his tongue access.

Thoughts slipped away. A small groan escaped his lips and she sighed into his mouth. Her knees dropped to his sides and Rowan took advantage of the opening to slide in closer. His arms encircled her and his fingers dug into the small of her back. Katie could feel the heat seeping through her bones and the weight of his arms around her shoulders was already familiar.

Suddenly, he broke from the kiss, pulling back a few inches. His eyes were wild.

“I like you, Katie. I’ve liked you for a long time,” he said with a rasp.

Rowan’s change of behavior was startling, but Katie wasn’t disappointed by his unexpected display of affection. As a matter of fact, she welcomed it. The reality that he was Amish and she wasn’t was only a tiny pestering jolt at the back of her mind.

Fearing that she might say something stupid, she ignored his words altogether. She slipped her hand behind his head, spread her fingers into his thick hair, and pulled his face back to hers.

Their mouths had barely touched when a voice boomed, “What’s going on here?”

Rowan jumped away from Katie as if he’d been stunned with a cattle prod. His back snapped straight and he faced her father.

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s not what it appears to be—”

Charlie Porter was a large man. He wore his usual button-down flannel shirt, blue jeans, and a ball cap. His blue eyes flashed as he strode forward and loomed over Rowan. “I wasn’t born yesterday, boy. It is what it is.”

His steady, calm voice didn’t deceive his daughter. Anger practically puffed off her dad, causing Katie to jump to her feet and take the two steps to Rowan’s side. “It’s nothing, Daddy. Rowan bandaged my arm.” She lifted her injured elbow and waved it back and forth. “See? I fell off Dusty and gouged it. Rowan was just helping me take care of the wound. That’s all.”

Her dad’s gaze rested on Katie for only a few seconds. She thought she saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes before he returned them to Rowan. His voice was still under simmering control when he spoke.

“I hired you with reservations. I thought having a teenage boy around here would be trouble, but I owed your father a favor and took you on with strong misgivings. I see I was right to worry.” He jabbed his finger at Rowan and she honestly feared for the boy. “I warned you to stay away from my daughter. Simple thing to do, and you promised you would.”

“I’m sorry—” Rowan rushed the words out. He tried to say more, but her dad interrupted him again.

“How long has this been going on?” Charlie glanced between Katie and Rowan.

“Today was the first time, Daddy. It’s not a big a deal, really—”

“Go to the house, Katie.” His mouth was drawn into a tight line and his cheeks were flushed with anger.

She opened her mouth to protest and her dad bellowed, “Now!”

Charlie was a temperamental man. His shout sent shivers shooting down her spine, and she glanced sideways to find that Rowan wasn’t looking at her. His chin was raised defiantly at her dad and his eyes were stony.

Almost as if Katie had been physically pushed, she stepped away. Tears blurred her vision. She hardly knew Rowan, and the kisses they’d just shared were probably insignificant to most people. Whatever connection had sprung sweetly to life only moments before snapped, leaving Katie feeling sick.

She jogged through the doorway and stopped, hesitating. Cool wind dried her cheeks and she strained to listen.

“Don’t come back here ever again, Rowan. You can tell your father whatever you want, but I don’t want to hear from him either. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I won’t be back.”

The finality of Rowan’s words caused Katie’s insides to twist in knots. She whirled around and sprinted toward the house.

With a sinking feeling, Katie slowed and turned to look back at the barn. Daddy ordered Rowan not to talk to me a long time ago. It all finally makes sense…

Rowan untied Scout from the hitching rail and mounted swiftly. Without looking in Katie’s direction, he kicked his horse into a canter. There was only the sound of hoofbeats striking the driveway as he rode away.

Katie’s mind was fuzzy for a moment. When her vision cleared, she was crying.

She sucked in a quivering breath, and vowed that she didn’t care if her dad ever changed his mind about Rowan. Katie never wanted to see the Amish boy again.

One

Katie

October 2020

Willow Creek Amish Settlement, Indiana

My sight blurred as I stared at the ledger. I finally lifted my gaze to the open window, watching the gold and red leaves sprinkling down from the old maple tree in front of the house. After rubbing my eyes, I thumped my coffee mug on the table.

“Stop it, Katie. Your fidgeting is going to be the death of me.” Momma’s voice wavered from behind the mug of steaming liquid held to her lips.

“It’s hopeless.” I slouched, dropping my head back with a grunt. “The money coming in doesn’t equal the money going out.”

“So what’s your answer, then? Sell the ranch?” Momma said it in a casual way, but I wasn’t fooled. The color had drained from her tanned face and her lips thinned.

A horse whinnied and my gaze was drawn back out the window. The countryside was awash in fall splendor, but there was a hint of chill in the air that hadn’t been there the day before. I breathed in the crisp breeze fluttering the gingham curtain. It carried with it the scent of rotting foliage and damp dirt. Winter was on its way. We had thirty-eight horses and nearly one hundred head of cattle to feed.

“I can train the two-year-olds and have them ready to go by the December sale.”

Momma blasted out a loud snort. “How can you do that with your arm in a sling?” She leaned back, shaking her head. “Better to cut our losses and sell them now, while they’re still fat and looking good. In a few months we won’t be able to feed them. It’s the right thing to do.”

I rubbed my face and pain throbbed in my forehead. I knew my eyes were bloodshot from too little sleep the night before. “If we don’t make some decent money on those horses, we won’t be able to pay the mortgage.” I regretted raising my voice when I saw Momma flinch.

“I was such a fool. I trusted your father to take care of things.” She rose from the table, knocking the chair backwards with her sudden movement. “But he was squandering our hard-earned money on that”—she took a gulp and my heart burst for her—“that woman. Now he’s gone because of her.”

I slid around the table and grabbed hold of Momma with my good arm without remembering the action to get there. Momma’s gentle sobs rocked against me. “It’s all right. I’ll figure it out. Why don’t you go lie down? You should rest.”

Momma pulled back, wiping her eyes and sucking in wet breaths. “You’re only twenty-two. This responsibility shouldn’t fall on you. I need to be stronger.”

I gave her a pat on the shoulder. “You’ve been through so much. It’s okay to take it easy for a few days and catch your breath. We have until the end of the month to come up with a plan. I can take on more hours at the restaurant, and—”

She raised her hand to silence me. “You’re already working seven days a week as it is.” Her eyes watered and she swallowed hard, softening her voice. “You must prepare yourself, Katie. We’re going to lose the ranch.” Her features hardened and she drew herself up taller. A wisp of faded red hair, streaked with gray, fell over her eye and she brushed it aside. She was in her late fifties, but her skin was still smooth, the only wrinkles on her face being at the corners of her eyes from smiling all the time. Momma was a beautiful, vibrant woman. It made it even more difficult to understand why Daddy had done what he had.

“I’m not giving up hope.” Mom’s brows shot up and I quickly added, “At least not until the end of the month. Give me a few weeks to fix this.” Stupid tears filled my eyes and I blinked them away. “This is our home. There has to be a way to stop the foreclosure.”

“Unless we have some rich relative that I don’t know about who’s going to pay the back payments and taxes, I don’t see a way out of this mess. But I won’t keep you from trying, my girl. You’re a stubborn one, and it will eat you alive if you don’t at least give it your best shot.” She reached out and cupped my cheek. “Just don’t be too hard on yourself. This isn’t your fault. It’s his.” She hissed the last word out and turned away. She walked slowly, slouched over, to the doorway. “I’m going to take your advice and close my eyes for a little while. Wake me if you need anything.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Do whatever you think is best, Katie. I’m leaving the decision-making up to you. I’m in no state of mind to run things at the moment.”

She disappeared into the hallway and I sagged into the nearest chair. Lady pushed her nose into my leg and I reached down to rub the dog’s shaggy black head. Her little whine made my heartrate speed up. It wasn’t just Momma and me losing our home; our horses and the rest of the animals would be homeless too.

Life had changed so much in the six days since the accident. A week ago, I had no idea that we were four months behind on the mortgage payments, and also owed the IRS last year’s taxes. I was blissfully unaware that my daddy was having an affair, and that he was secretly blowing all his income on a woman who wasn’t much older than me.

My stomach rolled and the inside of my mouth became thick and dry at the sick visions that rose up before me. The images had pestered me for days, and I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly in an attempt to cleanse my mind. Momma’s health was nagging me, too. She had multiple sclerosis and the stress of all this could definitely bring on a relapse.

Drastic times called for drastic measures.

I reached across the table and snatched my cellphone up. Before I could change my mind, I searched for the number and hit the call icon.

Sitting back into the chair, I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer that I was doing the right thing.

Two

Rowan

I pushed the hat back and ran my fingers through my sweaty hair, staring at Scout’s forelock. There were gray hairs mixed in with the brown ones, and it struck me for the first time that the gelding was getting old. I frowned at the horse, trying my best not to look at my sister, who was sitting on the bale of straw in front of Scout’s stall. She cradled her head in her hands and occasionally she sniffed or mumbled something.

I closed my eyes, remembering happier times. When we were little kids, Rebecca would ride her pony beside me, her chin held high and her eyes laughing. Back then she was my shadow, following me around like an eager puppy. Sometime between then and the past few years, she’d changed. Her carefree spirit had darkened and her laughter had stopped. She never smiled anymore and most of the time she sulked about, quietly murmuring to herself. Occasionally Rebecca’s eyes cleared and a small light sparked in those pale depths. Those times were the worst. That was when she became jittery and defiant; that was when she’d fight with Father and Mother.

I dropped onto the straw beside her and thudded my head back against the wooden boards. “Why do you do this to yourself?” I asked, unable to keep the annoyance from my voice. I had worked all day with the building crew and now there were four horses waiting to be shod. The sun had dipped beyond the horizon and the air was still and hazy. It would be a miracle if I finished all the horses before darkness fell. And without lights in the barn, that meant an extra early morning the following day.

Rebecca sat up. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and then stared back at me with a furrowed brow. Her skin was drawn tightly over her face, and it suddenly occurred to me that she’d lost weight. Her eyes and cheeks were hollow and she was rail thin. In recent days her mood swings had become more severe, and I’d tried avoiding her. It was just too difficult to see my sister withering away and losing her mind at the same time.

The doe-eyed look she shot at me created a sinking feeling in my heart. I rubbed my hands together. “I’m not being mean. Mother and Father just want what’s best for you. You should listen to them and take their counsel,” I urged.

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed and she leaned in. “They’re wrong, Rowan. They think they know what’s best for me but they don’t. They’re selfish and want to make me like them. I’m not the same.” Her voice came out in a wet whistling sound.

I licked my lips. “Of course, you are. You and I are Amish, just like our parents and everyone else in the community. You’re going through a rough patch. It will pass in time, and you’ll see the light.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened to saucer size and the side of her mouth rose into a sharp smirk. “That’s what you all wish, but it’s not going to happen. I have a sinful heart, brother, and you know it. I can’t follow the rules anymore. I don’t even believe in the minister’s teachings. I can’t pretend any longer to be something I’m not.”

I swiveled my head, scanning the barn’s hallway warily. When I saw that the coast was clear, I lowered my voice to an urgent whisper. “Don’t say such crazy things. You don’t have anywhere to go. You’d never survive as an Englisher.”

“How do you know that? I couldn’t be much worse off than I am right now.” She adjusted her white cap, pressing a pin down sharply on her head. I winced; it looked painful. “Jessica said there’s medications available that would help me feel better and you know that’s not an option if I stay here.”

I shook my head. “Jessica is just a driver. What makes her an expert on such things?”

Rebecca let out a small grunt. “Her sister suffers from depression and some other things. She thinks I might have the same problems.”

“You shouldn’t listen to her. She’s just trying to corrupt you into running away.” I looked around again to make sure no one had snuck up on us. When I returned my attention to Rebecca, she was staring straight ahead with pursed lips. “Don’t you remember what happened to Lucinda when she went English?” Rebecca took a shallow breath but otherwise didn’t respond, so I plowed on. “She got mixed up with a man who did drugs and he got her hooked on them too. She was pregnant and homeless within a few months.”

“She killed herself. Tied a couple of sheets together and hanged herself off the back porch of the rundown rental she was living in.” Rebecca’s tone was lifeless, as if she was reading from a boring book. She continued to stare straight ahead.

My chest constricted painfully. Before I had a chance to chastise her callous words, she turned and sputtered, “It didn’t have to be that way for Lucinda. If her family had supported her, she might have gotten the aid she needed…” Rebecca trailed off and began quietly humming. She pushed the dirt around with her black tennis shoe as what she had said settled on the quiet, dusty air.

Did my younger sister think she would end up like poor Lucinda? Was she threatening to run away or maybe even kill herself? Was she crying out for help and no one was listening?

I swallowed down the uncomfortable knot growing in my throat. It wasn’t easy being Amish. Temptations from the outside world were always present. Things like driving cars, going to the movies, listening to music, and even wearing modern clothes, were off limits to us. It was worse when we were teenagers. When the English kids were learning to drive and hanging out unchaperoned, we were sneaking out behind the barn after our parents were in bed to play games and listen to music on our secretly purchased cellphones. The lack of freedom caused many of us to rebel against the elders in even more serious ways. Some kids fancied the English ways and fell in with the wrong kinds of people. They drank alcohol, did drugs, and other things that were strictly forbidden for our people. Sometimes they were discovered and punished severely or even shunned by the community for an extended period of time. Other times they escaped that reckless time without anyone being the wiser.

Our community was even tougher than some others when it came to the number of rules we had to abide by. Our teenagers didn’t get the opportunity to experience Rumspringa, either. The short period of relative freedom that some communities let their young people celebrate helped many decide which way they wanted to go ‒ Amish or English. The Willow Creek settlement had decided long ago that allowing their teenagers to run amuck was a recipe for disaster and a threat to growing the population of the community. Sure, back in those days even I resented the harsh rules we lived by, but over time my restless heart had steadied and I had realized there were good reasons for the authority. For me, it all became shockingly clear when one of my closest childhood friends, Abe Schrock, snuck out one night with an English girl he was sweet on. She picked him up in her dented little red car and they went somewhere to fool around and drink beer. The girl was drunk when she drove Abe back to his farm. It had been raining all day and she slid off a slick road into a telephone pole. The car had been traveling at a very high speed ‒ at least that’s what the police officer told the bishop the next morning. The officer also said that both teenagers had probably died instantly. It wasn’t long afterwards that word reached the community that Lucinda had committed suicide. Both incidents had dulled my desire to leave the Amish and most of the other kids my age felt the same way. The outside world was a dangerous place. I was content to farm the land, just like Da, and live a simpler life.

Rebecca was a few years younger than me. She hadn’t experienced the jolt of losing a friend to bad judgment. Lucinda’s death was only a hazy, dreamlike event to my little sister. Rebecca seemed more intent on idolizing the troubled young woman for having had the courage to leave, rather than actually pondering what had really happened to her out in the world.

Glancing down at Rebecca’s head, I forced myself to really look at her. She bobbed up and down nervously and her sniffs were the only sounds in the ever-darkening barn. Rebecca’s body was wasting away, and her soul was lost and lonely.

“Ma and Da are coming … and the bishop is with them!”

Our heads snapped up in the direction of the fearful voice. Nathaniel stood in the doorway. He was out of breath and his cheeks were red. Our little brother was only fourteen, but he was already tall for his age. People said he favored me with his dark hair and eyes, but he was a dreamy kid, like our sister. I was more likely to find him reading a book under the willow tree than doing his chores. He was trustworthy though, and the warning look on his face made me jump to my feet. Rebecca didn’t move; she simply clasped her arms around her frail body and rocked back and forth.

“Nathaniel, take the trash down to the road,” Father bellowed when he came around the corner. Nathaniel didn’t move quickly enough and Father swiped the air in between them for emphasis, getting my brother’s legs moving in a hurry.

I strode after Nathaniel but Father grasped my arm. “You can stay, Rowan. You’re a man now. This is community business and you need to learn the way things work.”

Anger flared within me. “I thought it was a family matter.” I glanced at Ma but saw no support in her pinched face.

Bishop Elijah Graber stepped forward. He glanced between me and my sister. He was shorter than me and thickly built. His beard was as rough-looking as his hair. Elijah’s round face was always ruddy and his eyes were unfailingly alert. As a child, he had reminded me of a plump fox, and now that I was an adult, I still found it to be a good comparison. The bishop wasn’t an imposing man, but somehow he managed to intimidate people with his quick and cunning mind. The fact that he was taking an interest in my sister’s problems was a real concern ‒ and I had no doubt it was Rebecca he had come to see.

Bishop Graber smoothed his black beard down. It was largely peppered with gray hairs, matching his bushy eyebrows. “When our young people rebel, it becomes community business,” he said softly and very matter-of-factly.

I saw emotion flare in Rebecca’s face and then settle as her features slowly became expressionless. Anger bubbled to the surface as I turned back to the bishop. “My sister’s issues are not rebellion.” I glanced at Ma. “Please explain her situation to Elijah,” I begged.

Ma’s face twitched in disapproval. “Your father and I asked Elijah to come. As our bishop and an elder in our church, Rebecca needs his guidance.”

I rolled my eyes and looked away when I caught the bishop’s gaze narrow at me. I didn’t want his attention.

“What do you want of me?” Rebecca’s quiet question turned all our heads.

The bishop took the few steps needed to face Rebecca. He tilted his head as Rebecca looked up. “You’ll meet with me and the other ministers on Wednesday afternoons. We’ll read the Bible together and discuss how you can fit into the community better by making friends and becoming more involved in the women’s activities.”

Rebecca nodded passively. She stood and forced a smile, saying, “Thank you for thinking of me. I look forward to our meetings.” She searched our parents’ faces as they stood stoically, side by side. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go close up the chicken coop.”

Father raised his gaze to the bishop and received a curt nod in return. “You may go.”

Rebecca scurried out of the barn, shooting me a quick look as she passed by. The sour expression on her pale face caused a lump to form again in my throat.

When Rebecca was gone, Ma turned back to the bishop. “Thank you for doing this, Elijah. I only hope your guidance will put that girl on the right path.”

The bishop tipped his hat at me and then strode for the doorway. “Only time will tell. Some young’uns need a little coaxing, while others are impossible to reform. I’d hate for you to lose your daughter if it turns out she’s the latter.”

Mother and Father hurried after the bishop into the darkness without giving me another glance. A bird made a shrill call as it settled down for the night in a nearby tree and a cow bellowed in the lower field. I removed my hat, wiping the sweat from my brow. Cool wind brushed my face when I leaned against the doorframe, watching the bishop untie his horse and climb into his buggy. The sound of my parents’ goodbyes were muffled, and I ignored their voices and the clip clops of the hooves on the driveway. The memory of Rebecca’s bewildered face hammered a place in my head. A sort of foreboding chill raced up my spine and I grunted.

My parents were trying to do what they thought was best for Rebecca, but they were mistaken to think Bible classes with the ministers and lecturing from the bishop would make any difference whatsoever. Rebecca couldn’t be fixed in the way they wished. As much as I hated to admit it, even to myself, she had serious problems that required a professional’s help ‒ and she would never get that kind of aid if she stayed with the Amish.

Somehow, I had to get her out. But how? It would require a decent amount of money to spirit her away to one of our distant English relatives in Pennsylvania. I had some savings, but I gave much of my earnings back to Father to help pay for the farm expenses. Father had promised to deed me the bottom land acres along the river if I contributed my income for another year, but that left me short on money most days. Now I was twenty-two, Mother was pushing me to begin seriously courting, and she even had a girl or two in mind. I could hardly argue with her on that matter. I felt the itch to settle down on my own land and start a family with a good woman. Unfortunately, up until now, none of the girls had struck my fancy ‒ at least no one in the community. There had only been one girl who had quickened my heart, but she was English, and that was a very long time ago.

Still, more often than I liked, a certain face came to mind. I shut my eyes and let the memory flood in.

It was an overcast, rainy day, and the girl’s blue eyes shone brightly from her round, fresh face. Wisps of red hair escaped her ponytail and she kept pushing her hair back behind her ears in annoyed movements. A light smattering of freckles splashed her straight nose and over her pink cheeks. She walked with confident, ground-covering strides that reminded me of a prancing filly on a springtime pasture. This special girl liked to talk about horses and the books she was reading, and often there was a thoughtful, far-off look on her face.

I opened my eyes, shaking the memory away. That was six years ago, and the girl was a grown woman now. I had only caught glimpses of her here and there in all these years, but still, she was never far from my mind. I resented the strange, invisible hold she had on me. We’d kissed a couple times in the span of a few minutes, and that was all. It was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me, but if I was going to be a good husband, I had to let go of the dreams I had for a woman I could never have.

The simple truth was, thoughts about the English girl made me happy. How I had wanted that girl ‒ and I still did.

For now, my main concern was figuring out a way to raise some extra money to save my sister. I scratched my chin, staring up at the stars that began appearing in the dark sky.

“Please, Lord, provide me with the means to take Rebecca to the English world, if it be your will,” I whispered.

The telephone rang and the loud bell made me jump. I ran across the barnyard to the shed where the phone was kept, searching down the lane to see if anyone else was coming. I was alone when I threw open the door and grabbed the receiver off the hook.

“Hello,” I said into the phone.

There was a long pause, and I repeated myself.

“Is this Rowan Coblentz?” a female asked.

I held my breath. Something about the pensive voice made my heart pound.

“Yes, yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?”

There were a few more seconds of silence. Just when I was about to speak, she finally answered.

“It’s Katie Porter. You probably don’t remember me. I live up here at Diamond E. You worked at the ranch some years ago. Would you be interested in breaking a string of colts for us?”

Her words were rushed and anxious but they were music to my ears. I couldn’t keep the grin from my face when I glanced up at the stars and mouthed a thank you to the Lord for answering my prayer so quickly ‒ and in more ways than one.

I cleared my throat and worked hard to keep the excitement from my voice. I hesitated, gripping the receiver tightly. “What about your father? Is he all right with me lending a hand? The last time I spoke with him, he made it quite clear he didn’t want me around anymore.”

I couldn’t stop myself from heating uncomfortably. Thoughts that I’d tried to keep bottled up, and which had kept me up many nights, came flooding back in. I remembered Katie’s plump lips moving against mine, and the warm, vanilla scent of her skin.

“Daddy’s dead. Momma and I are running things now,” Katie said bluntly.

I stood up straighter and my mind cleared as if it had been slapped. “I hadn’t heard. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be,” she snapped. “Can you break the colts or not?”

Her tone was unmistakably hostile, and as the shock settled in the pit of my stomach, I quickly responded, “Of course. I can be there tomorrow evening if that works for you.”

“It does. Meet me in the training barn at seven o’clock,” she instructed and then she was gone.

We hadn’t even discussed payment, but I didn’t care. I hung up the telephone and replaced my hat.

Any extra money at all would help Rebecca and I’d finally get to talk to Katie Porter again. Maybe she was nothing like I remembered and had grown into a nasty shrew but I doubted it. I guessed she’d blossomed from a pretty teenager into a beautiful young woman.

The girl who’d been nothing but a fantasy in my mind for so long was about to become reality. That realization both terrified and excited me in ways I should have been ashamed of.

As I walked toward the house, I whistled an unnamed tune, thinking, God has one hell of a sense of humor.

Three

Katie

The bay horse tied to the hitching rail swung his head my way and nickered. I instantly recognized the white star in the center of his forehead and the bushy black mane and tail. It was Scout ‒ the same gelding that had carried me back to the barn that stormy day six years ago. I reached out and touched the gelding’s velvety nose and murmured, “Hello, handsome.” I didn’t linger at the rail. My heart jumped and my legs felt weak. I tightened my ponytail with a tug and let out a breath as I stepped into the dim interior of the training barn. My eyes adjusted and I quickly found who I was looking for.

Rowan Coblentz stood a few stalls down the hallway, petting Remington, a two-year-old palomino stud colt. I wasn’t surprised that Rowan had honed in on that particular horse. The tall, golden-colored colt was stunning with heavy muscling in just the right places, a refined head, and intelligent eyes. Remington was also pawing at the ground and flipping his pretty head from side to side. With his good looks and breeding, he’d do well in the sale ring, but the horse had a mean streak that made him impossible to work with safely.

“He’s Daredevil’s colt out of Dixie Belle,” I said when I stepped up behind Rowan.

He didn’t even startle, which disappointed me a little. When he turned around, I struggled to keep my expression neutral, but it was difficult. Rowan had grown several inches taller since I’d last seen him, and now he towered over my five foot five inches. Still lean but with broad shoulders, his arms now bulged with muscles. The boyish fullness of his sixteen-year-old face had been replaced with sharp, strong lines. His dark brown hair was as thick and messy as it used to be and his eyes still held that wolfish intensity that I remembered so well. My first glimpse of Rowan confirmed one thing: The attraction I used to feel for the Amish horseman hadn’t diminished one bit in the years we’d spent apart.

Rowan tilted his head and leaned against the stall door in a very relaxed way. Remington’s ears went back and I thought the colt was going to strike at Rowan with his teeth, but he ended up only shaking his head, dropping it out the stall door opening beside the man’s shoulder. Rowan ignored the ornery horse completely. His gaze locked on me, causing me to fold my arms over my chest and stare back.

Unhurried, Rowan’s eyes lowered to my boots and then back up to my face again just as slowly. The leisurely appraisal made my belly tighten into a fiery ball that flushed my face. Irritation filled my insides, and I was just about to tell him how rude I thought he was when he decided to talk.

“It’s good to see you, Katie,” he drawled.

I opened my mouth and then closed it. Rowan’s voice was husky and smooth at the same time, and the way he said my name sent a sprinkle of tingles over my skin.

When we were teens, I had been bothered by Rowan’s inattention. He’d all but ignored me when I worked here and when I’d found out it was all because Dad had ordered him to stay away from me, his unfriendliness had at last made sense. Now, with his hot gaze drilling into me and making my stomach do flip-flops, I almost longed for the days when he wouldn’t even look at me.

I was determined to not to offend the only man I knew who could train the colts, including the fiery-tempered Remington, in such a short time period. Momma and I needed to sell them for enough profit to pay the bills and save the ranch from foreclosure. I’d given myself quite the pep talk the night before as I’d lain awake in bed, imagining this encounter, and I wasn’t about to let Rowan rattle me.

“Nice to see you, too.” I gestured to Remington. “Do you think you can get him working well under saddle in six weeks for the McGovern horse sale?”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. He dropped his eyes and when he raised his head again, the wispy look of amusement had vanished. He was a patient man; that was one of the reasons the horses liked him. He thought about things before he said them and rarely did anything impulsively. I was the complete opposite, and his overly laidback demeanor was beginning to fray my last nerve.

“What happened to your arm?” he asked pleasantly.

My brows shot up and the all-night pep talk went straight out the window. I was exhausted and stressed about everything from the farm bills to my mom’s health. I’d lost my dad on the same day I’d discovered he was a cheating piece of crap. Yeah, I was done with niceties.

“Why don’t you just answer my question? This isn’t a game. Momma and I are going to lose the ranch if I can’t get these horses ready for the sale,” I spat.

Rowan wasn’t relaxed anymore. He rose to his full height and hot energy pulsed tightly from his athletic frame. His brown eyes were troubled.

“I’m sorry if you took my response as rude.” He shrugged and the tightness faded from his face. “I thought you were a friend who I hadn’t seen in a while. I apologize for making assumptions about our relationship,” he said gently and motioned at the horses. “I can get your horses fit and ready in time for the sale, even that belligerent one.” He pointed at Remington. “If this is just business as usual, we’ll need to discuss my payment.”

Dammit. I’d shot myself in the foot. Instead of being sweet and flirty, like a woman in need of some cheap labor, I had attacked the man with the force of a dragon.

Rowan’s jaw became firmly set and his brows arched. I took a breath and, for once, gathered the words in my head before I spoke. “I was thinking we could pay you a set amount per horse after they sell. What do you think?”

He pursed his lips, continuing to stare at me with those probing eyes. Rubbing the side of Remington’s face, he replied, “I’d like ten percent of the sale price per horse.”

I quickly calculated average selling amounts at ten percent in my head. It was a fair fee and also encouraged the man to train up the horses to their very best, as his fee would be directly dependent on how much each horse sold for.

I exhaled. “Done. When can you begin?”

A smile appeared on his serious face. “Right now.”

I hated that my eyes bulged and my heart raced. This was business, nothing more. “Perfect,” I managed to say with some constraint.

“I do have a question, though.”

I nodded for him to continue.

“When did your father pass away?”

The warm breeze sweeping through the barn hallway caught my hair and lifted it away from my face. Scents of horse manure and the hay in the loft mingled. I breathed in the familiar smells with a sigh.

“A week ago tomorrow.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

I studied the Amish man’s rigid features. Curiosity oozed off him, but his voice was tentative, almost as if he was holding his breath. He recognized my hesitation and quickly added, “I caught a glimpse of him a couple of months back at the Willoby stock sale in Ohio. He looked pretty healthy at that time.”

Something about the way he said the word healthy, with too much emphasis and hidden meaning, made me incline my head. “It was a car accident. Happened in Ohio.”

Rowan nodded slowly and didn’t look away. I shivered and blinked, forcing my legs into motion. I brushed past him and snatched Remington’s halter from the peg, holding it out to him.

His face became guarded as he took the halter. “I guess we don’t have time for small talk.”

“Only six weeks to get all these horses ready; there won’t be much time for anything else.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

“Got it.” He slipped the halter over Remington’s golden head and then spared a glance for me. “Are you going to watch the first lesson?”

As I cradled my hurt arm, which still throbbed and was itchy, I couldn’t help smiling back at Rowan. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Four

Rowan

I slipped the halter over Remington’s chiseled head and led him out of the stall. The colt leaned heavily on my shoulder and I stopped, wagging the reins to force him to take a step backwards. He snorted and flashed a wide-eyed look around the aisle. “You aren’t going to push me around, boy. I’m the leader and you’re the follower.” I tilted my head. “You’ll have some manners soon enough.”

After tying the large colt in the cross ties, I took the brush Katie handed me. She avoided my gaze as she moved to the bale of hay and plopped down on it. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she crossed her arms and studied Remington, refusing to grace me with even a glimpse of those pretty blue eyes.

I turned back to the colt and groomed his golden coat until it shone. A dry breeze stirred the dust in the barn. I exhaled and wiped my brow, considering the English woman who seemed intent on ignoring me. She was even more beautiful than I’d remembered. But that carefree quality she’d once possessed appeared to have gone ‒ or was hidden deep down ‒ replaced with anxiousness and anger. There seemed to be a lot more to her father’s passing than she was willing to talk about. The mere fact that she wouldn’t answer my simple question about his death struck a nerve with me. She was hiding something ‒ something that had upset her greatly. It pained me to think that the sweet girl I’d stolen a couple of kisses from in this very same barn was having troubles. I wanted to ask her what I could do to help, but feared she’d shoot down my offer quicker than I could blink an eye.

I was being overly presumptuous anyway. Katie Porter was nothing more to me than an employer. My obsession with her as a teenager was just a crush and maybe even my own form of quiet rebellion. I was Amish, and Katie wasn’t. It was for the best for both of us that her father had warned me away. She had probably only kissed me in a moment of boredom or experimentation. By now, she had surely learned the ways of the world and had her own man to kiss.

I shook my head at the uneasy thought, chastising myself for being a fool. I couldn’t help it that the now-grown woman still got under my skin. It wasn’t right that I should feel any kind of jealousy toward any man who might be her beau, though. It had been six years without us having any real contact, and it wasn’t like we were ever a couple or anything like that. Katie was entitled to her own happiness. With her beauty and intelligence, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was more than one man seeking her attention.

Besides, I was Amish and she wasn’t. Anything more than a friendly business relationship was impossible. I was a fool to let so many thoughts about an English woman fill my head.

The colt relaxed under the gentle strokes of the brush. A swath of late evening sunlight covered Remington’s face and he closed his eyes. His breathing steadied to a calm rhythm as I glided my hand down his leg, leaning into his forearm until he picked up his hoof. I murmured a few words of encouragement and used the pick to loosen the packed dirt out of the hoof quickly, setting it back down smoothly. I moved around the horse silently, repeating the act with his other three hooves.

Katie didn’t say a word but I could hear the shuffling sound of her shifting weight on the bale and I caught the whiff of her vanilla scent whenever I inhaled. The aroma bothered me. It was familiar, the way a memory jerked at your senses. I purposely took shallower breaths, beginning to believe that Katie was purposely trying to bewitch me.

As if on cue, she spoke, breaking the humming sound of Remington’s breathing. I paused working and glanced over my shoulders.

“How’s your family?” Katie asked. Her voice was brisk yet a little looser than it had been earlier.

Our eyes met briefly and she glanced away. I took the saddle pad from the nearby rack and set it on Remington’s back. The colt tensed, but stood still, dropping his head back to see what I was doing. I shadowed the horse with steady, yet firm movements. I wanted Remington to feel my confidence and take notice that I wasn’t afraid of him. At the heart of it all, he was a herd animal. The colt wanted to be the boss or to be led by a competent herd mate. Part of the training process was convincing the eleven-hundred-pound animal that he wasn’t bigger, stronger, or smarter than me. I had to persuade him that I was the chieftain of the herd and prove that I was worthy of his honor and obedience. With an ornery horse like Remington, the task was easier talked about than actually done.

I couldn’t stop the rush of adrenaline coursing through my body that Katie had spoken to me in a somewhat friendly manner. I hated that her words had perked me up so easily, like the invigorating feel of wind whipping my face when one of my trotters was moving effortlessly on the roadway or when I jogged down the stairs on Christmas morning and first inhaled the delicious smells coming from Ma’s baking, knowing I wouldn’t have to work a lick on that special day. It would be difficult to erase the English woman from my mind but that was what I had to do ‒ forget all the irrational romantic thoughts that had pestered me for years. Katie wasn’t mine, and she never would be.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. “Mother and Father are both in good health. Mother is busy making a quilt with the other women for the schoolhouse benefit dinner raffle and Father has grown the organic vegetable farming business. He’s even selling produce to several grocery stores in the area. Little Nathaniel is growing like a weed. He’ll catch up to my height soon enough.”

I flinched, realizing how much information I’d rattled off. It fell quiet again and I peered over Remington’s back at Katie. She was chewing on the end of a piece of hay, staring out the open barn doors. I took the saddle from the rack and carefully placed it on the colt’s back, grasping the girth and pulling it up to attach the leather tie strap.

“Don’t you have a sister?”

Katie’s question took me off guard. It was a simple thing to ask, and I suddenly understood how she might have felt when I abruptly asked about her father’s death. Uncomfortable subjects weren’t easy to talk about. I didn’t want to lie to her but I really didn’t want to dig into the muck of what was really going on with Rebecca, either. Remington stepped sideways and I paused with one hand on the girth, steadying him using my other hand on his bowed neck.

“Yes, I do. Rebecca’s doing fine as well,” I lied.

“She’s not much younger than us, is she?”

This was the Katie I remembered, full of curiosity and questions. I might not want to talk about Rebecca but I liked that we were at least talking. “Turned eighteen back in August.” I took a breath and looked directly at her. She met my gaze for a change. I leaned against Remington. “Why do you ask?”

Katie shrugged. “I saw her at the feed store a few years ago. I recognized your dad and just assumed she was your sister. She’s pretty. You two look a lot alike.” Her cheeks reddened and she quickly dropped her gaze.

“I hope you’re not saying I’m pretty,” I teased, unable to keep the corner of my mouth from lifting.

She snorted and stood up, smacking the loose hay from her jeans. “Naw. I didn’t mean that.”

I pulled the girth tighter in order to loop the tie strap through the opening. I was distracted and not focused on my charge the way I should have been. Before I had the strap secured, Remington’s muscles tensed and a second later he reared up. I reached for the crosstie closest to me but the scoundrel was too quick. He came down with a thump and crow-hopped, jerking his head sideways. The rope attached to his halter on his far side snapped tight and the buckle gave way. The colt almost had his head completely free. I pulled on the end of the rope that still held him, releasing the slip knot and freeing Remington before he could do much more damage.

It all happened like a blur. The golden horse crashed into me, knocking me off balance. I grabbed the stall door to right myself and Remington whirled around like a tornado. I saw Katie shimmy to the right, trying to get out of the way, but the horse was too large. She disappeared behind his haunches just before he bucked, flinging the untied saddle from his back. The saddle hit the wall with a whacking sound, which was immediately joined by the pounding of Remington’s hooves as he raced out of the barn. Horse heads that were lazily resting outside of their stalls a moment before, shied back in panic. Nickers and snorts followed the colt as he ran past.

I raced to Katie’s sprawled form. Her eyes were closed and I held my breath when I dropped down and touched her cheek softly.

“Katie, are you all right?” I gasped.

Her mouth twitched and then she found her smile again. Blinking, she started to push up into a sitting position. I slipped my hand beneath her arm and around her back. It occurred to me how light she was as I helped her stand.

Katie blew out a shaky breath and wiggled away. I didn’t want to let her go, fearing that she wasn’t steady enough to stand just yet. I loosened my grip as she pulled away, taking a step with her in case she lost her balance. Her eyes sparked fire and I drew back.

“If that colt wasn’t so damn pretty, Daddy would have sold him a long time ago,” she said, brushing the dirt from her pant legs.

“Do you need to sit down?” I asked tentatively, trying not to hover too close.

“No, I’m fine.” She raised her arm in the sling up and down, wincing a little with the action. “He just bumped me, hard. There’s no way Remington will be ready in time for the sale. With his bloodlines and looks, he would have brought a high price. It’s such a shame.”

I removed my hat and wiped my brow, not taking my eyes off Katie. “Whoa, don’t you give up on me or that horse so easy. I told you I’d have all these horses broke by sale day, even Remington, and I keep my promises.”

A light flickered in her eyes and her lips parted. She was about to say something and then snapped her mouth shut. She exhaled loudly, shaking her head. “That horse is rogue, Rowan. Every time Daddy or I worked with him it went the same way. For a few minutes he’s civil and then all hell breaks loose. He’s too smart for his own good and I’m beginning to think he’s not worth the trouble.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “You could get seriously injured.”

My chest constricted with her softer words of warning. I searched Katie’s face for something more than just general concern over my wellbeing, but her expression was grim. I had the intense urge to reach out and squeeze her shoulders, give her a gentle shake, and tell her not to worry about me. I wanted to feel her skin beneath my fingers and the thought of doing something so completely inappropriate sent a shiver down my spine. I had once held this woman in my arms and kissed her passionately. Now, I could only dream of touching her again.

I swallowed down the nervous energy bubbling in my gut and reached by Katie to grab the lead rope off the peg.

“Where are you going?” She swiveled toward me.

“To catch that horse. It’s going to be a long night.”

I turned away and strode out of the barn before Katie could say anything else. My available time to work with her horses was limited and Remington was going to be more difficult to work with than I’d imagined. I was being honest with Katie when I said that I kept my promises. I would get the colts ready in time for the sale, not just for Katie, but for my sister too, who I also owed a promise.

Five

Katie

I leaned over the porch railing the next morning, watching the dust billow up from the round pen. Sweat beaded between my breasts and at the nape of my neck, beneath my ponytail.

“That boy must be awfully determined. He’s been out there in this heat for over an hour, hasn’t he?” Momma stepped up to my side, startling me.

She held out two glasses of lemonade. The ice cubes clinked when I took them. “About that. He started out lunging him with the line, and now he’s working with him freestyle. Remington is stubborn, but I believe Rowan might be even more so.”

Momma grinned, raising a brow. “He grew up to be a fine-looking man.”

The wicked look on Momma’s face made me snort. I felt the heat rise on my cheeks, but I didn’t really care. She was right about Rowan; he was a fine-looking man, and it was good to see her crack a smile for the first time since we’d received news of Daddy’s accident and his infidelity.

“Can he really do it?” Momma’s face grew serious once again. “Train them horses up by sale day?”

I took a deep breath and looked back at the round pen. The dust had settled and Rowan was standing at Remington’s shoulder. The colt’s head was dropped and his hind leg cocked in a resting position. The Amish man rubbed the golden fur along the horse’s neck and I could see his mouth moving as though he was murmuring something. The man and horse looked about as relaxed as they could be.

“Rowan definitely has a way with horses. If anyone can pull it off, it’s him,” I admitted quietly.

“I’m surprised he’s giving us the time of day after the way your father treated him.”

I cocked my head and stared back at Momma. She’d never mentioned the incident before. “Why was Daddy so tough on Rowan? That was the first time we’d ever kissed. Before that, Rowan had all but ignored me.”

A sad smile appeared on Momma’s lips and her eyes had that foggy, faraway quality that I knew so well. She leaned against the railing and sighed, lifting her chin toward the round pen. “That boy wasn’t ignoring you, Katie. He was smitten from the get-go.”

My jaw dropped. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged and gave an annoyed shake of her head. “I guess you were too young to read his aloofness but I saw it.” Her gaze drifted back to the pen. “I felt sorry for him. He understood that it was impossible to have a relationship with you but the attraction was there, and I know firsthand how difficult it is for an Amish man who is sweet on an English woman.

I set the drinks down on the flat board on the top part of the railing and placed my hands on my hips. Heat fanned my face and my insides twisted. “What are you talking about?” I asked in a low voice.

The fearful look that passed over Momma’s face made me hold my breath.

“It’s about time I tell you the entire story, Katie, especially since that Amish boy has come back into our lives. Honestly, I never thought we’d see him again up here at the ranch, working with our horses.” She shrugged. “Life is a strange journey. Now that your father is gone, there’s no more reason to keep secrets.” Momma swallowed and lifted her gaze. Her green eyes glistened. “You see, when I was a little younger than you, I met James Coblentz, Rowan’s father, at a neighbor’s yard sale. Do you remember Mrs. Collins?” I nodded briskly, giving a wave of my hand for her to continue. “Well, my mother had asked me to assist Edna with the yard sale she was having. She was old and her body was riddled with arthritis. She could barely move at the time. I remember that day quite clearly. It was bright and cloudless. The sky was such a pale blue, like a robin’s egg.”

I was still holding my breath and my head felt light with anticipation. Momma’s pause was killing me but I was afraid to say anything to pull her back from those long ago memories. Ever since that day in the barn when Rowan and I had been caught kissing, I’d always thought there was something more than just Daddy being overly protective of me. Something about what he’d said to Rowan, about doing his father a favor, had bugged me for a long time.

Momma sighed deeply and continued. “Edna had an old cart stored in the shed. It was an antique and she’d listed it in the ad she’d posted in the paper. When James showed up to take a look at it, Edna couldn’t possibly make the walk to the shed out back so she asked me to take the young Amish man to see it.” She smoothed down the front of her pink blouse and took another quick breath. “I was very shy. I hadn’t spent much time around Amish folk and certainly not a young man my age.” She glanced up from under her lashes and the mischievous look she flashed me made my skin chill. “He was also a fine-looking man ‒ very tall and well built, with brown hair and the darkest eyes. Oh, how my heart pounded on that long walk to the shed. I was a nervous wreck, I think, but then an amazing thing happened. James began talking to me. His steady voice was pleasant. He asked all kinds of questions about my life, and why I was acting so shy; he seemed almost arrogant in his confidence.” Momma chewed her lower lip. She was beginning to falter and I reached out, squeezing her arm. The touch seemed to calm her nerves. She wrung her hands. “James ended up buying the sulky and starting up a friendship with me at the same time.”

“Friendship?” I said the word with slow emphasis.

Momma made a small huffing noise. “Don’t make me say it, Katie. It’s hard enough to talk about this as it is. You see, I was already dating your father at the time. All of a sudden I had two men in my life that I was very fond of, and it wasn’t an easy time at all.”

“But how did you manage to even see Rowan’s father, him being Amish and all?”

“He would sneak over to my house after dark and we’d take walks together in the fields. Sometimes, we’d arrange meetings at the little general store at the edge of town. It wasn’t easy, and then things got complicated.”

“What happened?” I whispered, imagining all kinds of sordid scenarios.

“Your father found out about James. He was very upset and demanded I choose between the two of them. I cared deeply for your father and I didn’t want to hurt him, but I had already made up my mind. I wanted to be with James.”

“How would that have even been possible?” I breathed.

“That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? It wasn’t possible. At the time I was too naïve to understand, though. The next time I saw James I told him that I was breaking up with your father to be with him.”

A tear trickled down Momma’s cheek but I couldn’t move to wipe it away. Hearing her tell this secret from her past left me frozen. Shock and wonder held me in place.

Momma gulped and sniffed. “That’s when James explained that we couldn’t be together, that he would never leave his people, and that I would not make a good Amish woman.”

“He didn’t!” I hissed.

She nodded. “Yes, that’s what he told me. He dismissed me like I meant nothing to him. The times we’d shared together had been meaningless.” My limbs loosened and I took a step to embrace her but she held up her hands, stopping me. “Your father never mentioned James Coblentz again, until he hired the boy about seven years ago. I was beyond surprised and more than a little uncomfortable having the teenager, who looked so much like his father, coming and going on a daily basis. I never understood why your father would give Rowan a job. It made no sense to me but I didn’t question his decision. When he caught the two of you in the barn together and fired the boy, I wasn’t surprised in the least. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t question it. I was happy to see the boy go. His face had been a constant reminder of the way James had treated me.”

I digested what she’d said, my mind reeling. Momma’d had a fling with an Amish man, with Rowan’s father. Did Rowan know? If he was ignorant of his father’s past, should I even bring it up? I got the answer to my last question immediately.

Momma raised her finger and her threat came out in a low, angry growl. “Do not say a word about this to anyone, especially that boy out there. It’s nobody’s business. We’ve all moved on and if news got back to James’s wife, Rachel, she’d be devastated. There’s no need for any more heartache over a stupid infatuation from the past.”

“It sounded like it was more than just an infatuation for you,” I said softly.

“I learned the hard way that Amish men are nothing but trouble.”

“Couldn’t you say that for all men?” After what Daddy had done, it didn’t seem fair to single out only Amish males for bad behavior.

“I suppose so, or maybe I’ve just had bad luck with men in general.” Her face sagged. “I can honestly say that your father’s betrayal is nothing compared to the devastation I felt when James turned away from me. My feelings for your father were never quite the same as the love I felt for the young Amish man I used to take walks with. The heart is tricky, my dear. Don’t be swept into a forbidden romance the way I was. You’ll only get hurt in the end.”

I shook my head vigorously. “No, no. You don’t have to worry about that with me and Rowan. He’s just training the horses so we don’t lose the ranch. That’s it. I don’t even like him much.”

Momma looked at me with the arch of her eyebrows that signaled firm wisdom, making me catch my breath. “I hope that’s true, for your sake, and that we might be able to hold onto the ranch.” She pinned me with a steady gaze. “Mark my words, Katie. If that boy finds out his father and I were in a relationship before his mother came along, he might not finish the job. That’s a chance we can’t take.”

Her warning settled over me like a heavy winter blanket. I didn’t like secrets under the best of circumstances, but keeping something like this to myself wouldn’t be such a big deal if it weren’t for Rowan and his penetrating eyes. He probably thought my daddy was the bad guy, but in truth his own father was even worse.

I nodded reluctantly, agreeing, and glanced back up. I spotted Rowan coming from the barn with the saddle in his arms.

“Oh, great,” I mumbled, jogging down the porch steps.

“Wait,” Momma called out. She picked up the two glasses of lemonade and followed me down the steps. “He must be dying of thirst by now.” When I frowned back at her, she added, “The sins of the father don’t belong to the son. As long as you keep the relationship business-only, you’ll be fine, Katie. We’ll all be fine.”

I took the glasses without meeting her gaze. Of course, she was absolutely right. I needed Rowan to train the horses; that’s all I needed from him. Any flirty looks he might shoot my way meant nothing. He was probably a player, just like his ol’ dad. I’d heard stories of the Amish partying, dating non-Amish, and going wild before they finally settled down in their communities. That was probably what had happened with James Coblentz. He’d taken a fancy to my mom and had a little fun before he found an Amish woman to cook, clean, and warm his bed at night. I wouldn’t fall into the same trap as Momma.

As I approached Rowan, holding the glasses in my hands, I admitted to myself that it was a shame the man was once again off limits. He finally noticed me and set the saddle down on the fence railing. I tried not to look at his broad shoulders and slim hips, but that meant looking him in the eye.

When he saw the lemonade, he smiled and tipped his hat. His brows lifted and his eyes widened. He left Remington and shimmied between the fence railings to meet me.

I caught a whiff of his musky sweat mixed with horse hair and leather. When I looked up, shielding my eyes from the sunshine, he stepped closer. His tall frame blocked the sunlight and I suddenly ached for those strong, muscled arms to encircle me.

“You read my mind.” He gestured at one of the glasses of lemonade.

I held it out to him but before he took it, he abruptly kneeled in the dirt beside me. I dropped my gaze.

“Hey, girl, do you remember me?” Rowan ran his hands through my dog’s fur in the same gentle way

he touched Remington. “She must be getting on in years,” he commented, still petting Lady.

I nodded once, at a loss for words. Lady didn’t like anyone but Momma and me. The electric meter-reading guy couldn’t even climb out of his truck for fear of getting bitten. And here she was, after six years of not seeing Rowan, rolling onto her back and letting him rub her belly. She’d turned back into a panting, squirming puppy for him.

Staring at Rowan’s crouched form over my dog, I knew I was a goner.

Rowan finished off the lemonade with a swig and handed me the glass. “That was refreshing. Thank you.”

“Momma made it,” I said quickly.

Rowan smiled a little and grasped Remington’s lead line. The horse had been resting in the sun, eyes closed and head dropped. The slight touch on the rope connected to his halter brought him fully alert. His ears pricked forward and he turned to look at Rowan.

I set the glasses onto the ground and crossed my arms over the railing to watch Rowan lead the colt around the pen a couple of times. Occasionally he stopped Remington and turned him in tight circles. The horse moved in a willing way. He almost seemed a little tired.

When Rowan dropped the rope and said, “Whoa,” Remington slid to a stop, licking his lips. The mouth action showed that the horse was giving in to Rowan, trusting him as his master.

I cocked my head and studied Rowan’s movements. He walked around the horse with a casual demeanor that neither threatened Remington, nor made him feel that Rowan was a pushover. The man’s strides were free and easy, his posture loose. He crossed the pen with his head lowered most of the time, seeming to ignore the horse altogether. I wasn’t fooled. My trained eyes picked up Rowan’s subtle glances and his slightly cocked head and listening ears. He was always aware of where Remington was and what he was doing.

I tried not to notice Rowan’s athletic physique and the bulge of muscles where his shirt sleeves were rolled up. Suspenders slipped over wide shoulders, and dust stained the sweaty, cream-colored material. When he spoke to Remington, his voice was quiet yet firm. Even though it had to be over eighty-five degrees, a shiver raced up my neck when Rowan spoke my name.

“Katie, I think we’re ready for the saddle.”

I almost protested, wishing he’d give Remington a few more days of ground training, for Rowan’s own safety, but with twelve other colts to break, there wasn’t the luxury of time to go slow with the palomino. I nodded, giving Rowan the go-ahead to try the saddle again.

This time Rowan placed the pad and saddle down on the horse’s back at the same time. He probably didn’t want Remington to have much time to figure out what was happening. The longer a smart horse like Remington had to think, the more danger the trainer was in.

In a smooth action, Rowan pulled the girth under the belly and secured the tie strap. In an even quicker motion, Rowan slipped his boot into the stirrup and lightly swung his other leg over Remington’s back. A warm breeze lifted the horse’s white mane, bringing with it the scent of the grass that was curing in the hayloft. I breathed the sweet scent in deeply and then held my breath, waiting for Remington to explode.

Rowan sat deep in the saddle, slightly hunched, with his long legs barely touching Remington’s sides. He slid just the toes of his boots into the stirrups while he leaned over and rubbed the golden neck.

“There, boy. That’s not so bad, is it?” he asked in a coaxing voice.

When he made the same clucking sound he’d made earlier to get Remington moving off on the rope, I gripped the rail. Lady gave a low whine, as if she understood how temperamental the horse was and that Rowan was in danger.

The barnyard quieted; even the birds seemed to pause their singing to see what happened next.

Remington shifted his weight, spreading his legs further out to the sides, stubbornly not moving. Rowan made the noise again and this time, he brushed his boot heels into the colt’s sides. Remington surged forward awkwardly. His balance was off with the man’s weight straddling his back for the first time. Rowan lifted his hands, using his expertise to easily control his own balance as Remington trotted bouncily around the pen. Whenever the horse started to lose impulsion, Rowan urged him forward with clucks and his forward seat. I let out a breath and began to enjoy the training session. The horse listened to the man, speeding up and slowing down on cue. When Remington’s golden coat was slick and shiny with sweat and his breathing was heavy, Rowan sat back and said, “Whoa, boy,” with a firm voice.

Remington remembered the words and their meaning. He seemed relieved when he planted his four feet on the ground and immediately dropped his head to rest.

“I’m impressed,” I admitted.

“Strong-willed horses like this one need a job to do more than most. He wants to be a part of a team. He’ll make a great horse when we’re finished with him.”

That he’d said we’re made me wonder at his choice of words. After all, Rowan was the one training the horse, not me. I let the thought go. My arm was beginning to throb and I had to get ready for work if I was going to make my shift on time. I’d missed several days for Daddy’s burial, and although Billy had been more than accommodating with my time off, I didn’t want to push the restaurant owner’s generosity too far. Besides, Momma and I needed the money.

“How long can you stay today?” I asked.

Rowan looked at his watch and leaned back, resting his hand on Remington’s croup. “Our driver should be picking me up in about a half hour, I reckon. I have to work with the building crew this afternoon.”

I tried not to let the disappointment show on my face. I knew when I’d hired Rowan that he had other jobs to keep up with and that training the horses wouldn’t be his sole priority. I responded with as cheery a voice as I could manage. “All righty. Can you come back tomorrow?”

Rowan lifted the rope and clucked to Remington, waking him from his tired trance. He took a few steps to reach me at the fence and stopped again when Rowan said, “Whoa.”

“The schoolhouse benefit dinner is tomorrow night and I’m signed on to help some of the other men put up the tent and clean out the tie stalls for the horses.” He must have read the disappointment on my face, because he quickly added, “I can plan to come over after the auction and maybe even later today.” He glanced around. “Your barn and pen are well lit and it’ll be cooler at night.” He pursed his lips, frowning. “That’s something I really envy you of: electric lights at night.”

I grinned back but I couldn’t help asking, “Why don’t your people use electricity anyway?”

His spine straightened. “If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that question—”

I cut him off. “Sorry, you don’t have to explain it to me.” My skin bristled with agitation that I’d been so stupidly forward. The Amish had their own culture and even though I didn’t understand half of why or what they did, their religion deserved respect like anyone else’s.

Rowan removed his hat and dragged his fingers through his thick, dark hair. An image of Momma and Rowan’s father kissing sprang to mind. I quickly looked down the driveway. Maybe it would have been better if Momma had never told me about her and James Coblentz. The idea of her romance with an Amish man was mind-blowing enough but the images dancing around in my head were downright disturbing. The only reason I could fathom that she’d shared a glimpse into her past with me was to make sure I didn’t make the same mistake with Rowan that she had made with his father. Momma had never been good at telling me what to do. Her parenting skills were much more subtle than that. By retelling the story of her disastrous relationship with an Amish man, she’d gotten the message across loud and clear. Even if my friendship with Rowan blossomed into something deeper while he trained the horses, it didn’t matter. He was Amish and therefore off limits.

“I didn’t mean that I didn’t want to explain it to you, just that it’s something I figured most people would understand by now.” His brow lifted and he managed a weak smile. “You know, there are hundreds and thousands of us, and our communities have spread to most of the States and Canada.”

“I hadn’t really ever thought about the Amish population before.” I shifted my gaze back to Rowan’s face.

“We don’t use electricity for several reasons but the main one is that it opens our homes up to the outside world through the electric lines.”

I scrunched my face, shaking my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. What about gas? I’ve heard your people use natural gas for lights and the stove, and to run your refrigerators.”

His smile disappeared and his lips thinned. “Just because it’s the way we do things, doesn’t make it perfect.” His mouth twitched and then broke out into a wide grin.

I snorted out a laugh and began to pivot away when he cleared his throat.

“Have you ever been to the benefit dinner?”

I shook my head. I’d been tempted on a few occasions but I was always working or doing something else, it seemed.

Rowan’s voice dropped lower and he leaned forward over Remington’s neck. The horse stepped sideways and I guessed he believed his resting session was over. “You should come. There’s good food, and we raise the money to pay for our teacher’s salary and our little school’s maintenance. There’s an auction at seven o’clock and everything from wooden furniture and crafts to doves and goats will sell. The quilt my Ma and the other ladies are sewing will be raffled off, too.”

“Sounds fun, but I have work tomorrow.” I pulled my cellphone from my back pocket, checking the time. “I’m running late for today’s shift. I have to go. I’ll tell Momma to leave the gate open tonight and tomorrow, so you can come on up and work with the horses after dark, if you have the time.”

“You won’t be here tonight?” Rowan’s voice was guarded, almost rough.

“I normally pull a double shift on Fridays. Sometimes I don’t get home until after midnight. It just depends on how busy the restaurant is.”

“I see.”

Rowan’s expression was tight and his eyes downcast. If I was a betting woman, I’d say he was disappointed that he might not see me for a couple of days.

I smothered my satisfied smile with my hand. “You’re doing a great job with Remington. He really is the worst of the bunch. After today, I’m hopeful that you might actually succeed and get the training done by sale day.”

He tipped his hat. “Oh, there’s no doubt I’ll have them colts trained up in time.”

His confidence caused my muscles to ease and my nerves to quiet. It would still be a small miracle, but the Amish man was determined, making it a little less of a long shot.

Lady led the way back to the house when Rowan called out, “If you don’t mind me asking, where do you work?”

I paused to look back. “At Billy’s Diner and Saloon. Have you ever eaten there?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“I’m sure your standards are fairly high, with all I’ve heard about how delicious Amish cooking is, but the steak sandwich, with a baked macaroni cheese side, is really good.”

“Maybe I’ll check it out sometime,” he replied.

I turned away and kept walking. I’d never seen any Amish people in Billy’s before. Someone had said it had to do with the word saloon in the restaurant’s name ‒ and that the Amish didn’t frequent places that sold alcohol.

As I climbed the porch steps, my heartrate sped up. I had a feeling Rowan would be true to his word. He’d be the first Amish person to dine in the restaurant and, if my instincts were correct, he wouldn’t wait too long to check out Billy’s Diner.

Six

Rowan

When I closed the door behind me the smell of baked goodness assailed my senses. I breathed in deeply and looked around. The kitchen was empty and I let go a sigh of relief. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation with family. It had been a hot afternoon on the roof of a garage the crew had built for a fellow in town. The beating sun had burned the back of my neck and the side of my temple ached where Martin had dropped a board on my head as I’d climbed up the ladder behind him. I rubbed the throbbing spot and crossed the room to the refrigerator. I grabbed a cold bottle of water from the top shelf and sat down at the table. A dozen pies were lined up and cooling on the counter. The breeze stirring the curtains above the sink was still warm, even though the sun had dropped low in the sky. I still had to feed the horses and calves.

I wasn’t surprised that Ma wasn’t around. She’d told me that morning that she would be visiting Martha Miller this evening ‒ something about needing a few more stitches on the raffle quilt to make it perfect ‒ and that Father would take her over with the buggy. He wanted to see Tim’s new team of Belgian horses anyway. There was a small piece of paper on the table. I reached out and dragged the note over with my fingers.

Your dinner is in the fridge. Nathaniel came along with us but your sister stayed home.

Please keep an eye on her. I don’t want her getting into any mischief. Mother

I leaned back in the chair. I’d seen the plate with the pork chop and potatoes when I’d fetched the water but I wasn’t hungry and had ignored it. I cocked my head and listened. The house was quiet, except for the dull ticking sound of the old clock on the fireplace mantle in the adjoining room. Where was Rebecca?

Like horses breaking from the gate in a race, my heart began pounding. I stood up and hurried into the hallway, glancing into the parlor first. The sofa and chair were empty. The room was shadowed and only a small strip of the floor was lit by the low, buttery light shining in through the window. I passed the painting of the white farmhouse in the snow, and the scripture verse in the corner popped out at me:

“But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.”1 Timothy 6:6-7

Even though the house was stuffy, a chill penetrated the skin on my arms. I took two steps at a time as I climbed the staircase to the second floor. Mother and Father had expected me to arrive home sooner. The mischief they worried Rebecca might get into had to do with their idea of her rebellion and had nothing to do with her troubled state of mind. After our conversation about what had become of poor Lucinda, I was more afraid that Rebecca was thinking about death and its promise of freedom from our restrictive world.

I stopped in front of Rebecca’s bedroom door and held my breath. The door was shut. Slowly I turned the knob and pushed. The last rays of daylight spilled through the west-facing window. Beneath those splendid rays, I found Rebecca sitting on the floor. Her back was to me and her head was bent. She was very still except for an occasional bob of her head. I hadn’t relaxed enough to take a proper breath. Careful not to startle my sister, I stepped lightly. It wasn’t until I reached the warmth of the fading sunshine that I saw the white plastic plugs in her ears. They were connected to thin wires that draped around her neck, attaching to a small technology device. It looked like a cellphone, but smaller.

I was close enough to hear the muffled beat of music and realized she was listening to a song. I knelt beside her and leaned over. Rebecca couldn’t hear me and her eyes were closed. Her mouth was parted and her lips mouthed silent words. The tight paleness of her face made me shiver, but it was what she was holding in her hands that made me shrink back, rocking onto the heels of my boots.

In one hand she held a drawing pencil and in the other a sketch book. I forced myself to take a closer look at the picture Rebecca had drawn. It was of a girl ‒ or maybe a young woman ‒ with long hair, blowing across her eyes. Her neck was thrown back, raising her face to a dark sky. The girl was naked with a bent leg and her long hair hiding the lower part of her body. A breast was exposed. The fact that she’d drawn such a scandalous picture barely penetrated my mind. It wasn’t the girl’s nakedness that was shocking; it was the look on her face that held me in a stony grip. The mouth twisted open grotesquely in a scream that I was sure if I closed my eyes I would be able to hear. Then I noticed the girl’s fingers digging into her thigh and the blood drops dribbling down her skin. The girl’s tightly curled toes completed the tortured image. My gaze quickly lifted to the paintings decorating the pale blue walls.

Rebecca was a self-taught artist. She began doodling as a child. All she’d ever wanted for her birthday presents was painting supplies, and Father had even let her use the back side of the toolshed as a canvas for her ever-changing color experiments. Early on, everyone had praised her for her growing abilities, but over time, Mother and Father became annoyed by the increasing time she spent painting, time that took her away from her many tedious chores.

Now, as I looked at her creations, I suddenly realized just how gifted my sister was. There was a picture of Rebecca’s round-barreled black pony standing knee deep in lush, green grass. Butterflies of all colors and sizes dotted the landscape. Wild chicory added blue splashes here and there in the pasture. Another painting captured the friendly warmth of the family farmhouse and red barns surrounded by hills and forest. The picture above Rebecca’s bed was of a brilliant red sunset over a cornfield. All of her artwork was expertly painted and beautiful to behold. Even the painting she’d done in the downstairs foyer, with its lonely house on the snowy hill and the melancholy Bible verse attached, was still striking.

But this newest drawing grasped in her hands was something altogether different. The black and charcoal grey strokes were harsh and the image of the pained girl, disturbing. If this was a glimpse into Rebecca’s soul, she was doomed.

This drawing was a cry for help if I ever saw one. I reached out and tapped her shoulder. She jumped up and slammed the sketchbook closed. Her gray eyes were wide and surprised.

She pulled the plugs from her ears and groaned, “Why are you sneaking up on me, Rowan?”

The hostile look of betrayal aimed at me made me take a step back. Annoyance prickled my insides. “If you didn’t have those things in your ears you would have surely heard me enter the room,” I shot back.

Rebecca glanced down at the white ear plugs and then clenched them in her balled fist. “Are you going to tell Da and Ma?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Of course not.”

Her shoulders dropped and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before she turned back to her writing desk. She opened the drawer and pulled out a Bible. I inclined my head, watching curiously as she opened the book and set the slender device and the plugs into an opening she’d carved away from the pages.

A short gasp bubbled up from my throat. “Are you kidding me? You chopped up a Bible to make a hiding spot for your phone?”

“It’s not a phone ‒ just an iPod.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “You listen to music with it. That’s all.”

I rubbed my forehead vigorously. “I thought you were going to try to behave yourself, Rebecca. Father and Mother are on to you, and now the bishop is involved. You’re treading in dangerous waters.”

Rebecca faced me, her arms crossed. She leaned against the desk in a casual way that most people would have found disrespectful. When she was in this kind of mood, it unnerved me the most. Instead of looking back with her usually sad, desperate eyes, she glared at me. Her drawn features were filled with combative tension. I swallowed and braced for her anger.

Her voice was calm and quiet when she spoke. “There’s nothing wrong with listening to music while I draw. If I weren’t Amish, no one would even notice, let alone think to punish me.”

I plopped down on the edge of her bed and stared at the wooden floor. She was absolutely right, but that didn’t matter at all. Because we were Amish, our ways were different to the outside world. Rebecca understood that, so there was no point in arguing with her.

“You’re smarter than this. If it really is your intention to leave the community, then do it the right way ‒ with a sound plan.”

Rebecca’s eyes glowed. “You’re going to help me?”

I inhaled sharply. “If that’s what you really want, yes, I’ll help you. But you have to be patient. It’s going to take some time to sort things out.”

“What things?” Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she stood up straight and tall.

I sighed. “First and foremost, you’re going to need money for a place to stay. Eventually, you’ll have to get a car and that will be expensive.”

“I’ll take on another job,” she said firmly.

“Sure you can do that, but you’ll still need a place to stay and transportation to travel around.”

“Jessica has a cousin who she said I can stay with for a little while until I get my act together.”

I couldn’t help narrowing my eyes. “You already talked to that crazy driver about running away?”

Rebecca raised her chin. “I hardly call it running away when I’m eighteen years old. I’m an adult and can live on my own if I choose to.”

I licked my lips, feeling my face grow hot. I knew I had to be patient with Rebecca but she was making it very difficult.

“That woman has you thinking like an Englisher. Well, you’re not ‒ at least not yet.” I drew in a raspy breath and blew it out. “Rebecca, if you do this properly and with respect for Father and Mother, it will be better for you in the long run. You don’t want to rely on strangers to help and support you. I understand you’re fed up with all the rules that our people live by, and maybe you just don’t fit in. I get it, but don’t be naïve. It’s a cruel world out there. In our community, we’re always there for each other. Whether it’s raising a neighbor’s barn, delivering food after a new baby arrives, or when someone is recovering from illness. The Amish are never alone and from what I’ve seen, that’s not always the case for Englishers.”

“I don’t care about any of that. I’ll make a living as a painter. I’ll have my own studio and everything.”

“You can still sell your artwork as an Amish woman,” I argued.

She muffled her bark of laughter with her hand. “Sure. For a little while maybe, but then I’ll be pressured to marry and have babies.” When I began to protest, she raised her hand and rushed on. “You know it’s true, Rowan. If I don’t settle down, raise a family, and take care of the house, I won’t be accepted. I already have that problem. You don’t feel lonely because everyone loves you. You’re outgoing and like to talk to them about the same things that interest the other men, like farming and horses.” She pushed away from the desk and fell to her knees in front of me. “You like it here and I understand why it works for you. Why, oh why, can’t you see that being Amish just doesn’t work for me?” she pleaded.

“I do see that! I’m trying to guide you to leave in the right way.”

“Is there a right way?” Her hand pressed to her heart. “No matter how I do it, it’s going to be a nightmare.”

“That’s probably true, but you can make it a little easier.”

“How?”

“By being as respectful of our parents as you can be. Do the sessions with the bishop and the ministers. It won’t kill you, and at least then you can say to Ma that you really did try. She’ll see that you made an effort and that might help her better deal with your decision to leave. You never know, you might even change your mind.” The stubborn set of her jaw made me quickly add, “I’m training horses for the Porters. I should have enough money saved by December to set you up in your own apartment.”

“You would do that for me?” Her lips trembled and I stared out the window. Darkness had fallen and a cool breeze lifted the curtains.

“Father and Mother won’t be happy, but yes, if it’s your decision to leave the Amish, I’ll help you. As long as you promise to see a doctor about your problems.” She nodded briskly. “You’re a stubborn one, Rebecca, and I know that no amount of cajoling will keep you here if you don’t want to stay. I reckon it’s better if I assist you so you don’t make a complete mess of your life in the process of following your dreams.”

Rebecca folded her hands in her lap and smiled sweetly. “You’re a good brother ‒ better than I deserve.” She twiddled her thumbs like she was a distracted child again. “I’ll do as you say and slow things down a bit. I can survive the bishop’s lectures, I suppose.” She rolled her eyes. “But I can’t wait too long, Rowan. I’ll go nuts if I don’t get out of here soon.”

“You want to be away from us that bad?”

Abruptly, her eyes misted and she dropped her head. “Of course not. It’s just so hard for me sometimes. The other day Ma swatted me with the broom because I refused to go to Sarah’s baby shower on the only day I had off in over a week. Between working at the butcher shop and doing the household chores, I have no time to paint or even read a few pages of a book most days. I have no say about what happens in my own life at all. It’s not that I want to get away from you all, because I’ll miss you and Nathaniel desperately. I might even miss Da and Ma after a while. I just can’t live like this anymore. I can’t.”

“Won’t it be strange to wear trousers and have your hair down?”

She giggled. “Maybe at first. But you have no idea how uncomfortable these stupid caps are.” She adjusted hers with a sharp jerk to head.

“I can’t even imagine you driving a car.” I rubbed my chin, becoming wary with the conversation.

“It will be a grand adventure to learn so many new things,” she said wistfully.

For a moment, pink color flushed her cheeks and her eyes twinkled. Seeing her hopeful, after so many months of mood swings from melancholy depression to frightening anxiety, made all the trouble worth it. And it would definitely be a lot of trouble. In the end, I might find myself being lectured by the bishop. I certainly wouldn’t escape unscathed if I succeeded in spiriting my sister away. I would be punished for helping her.

Rebecca stood up. “I’ll heat up some dinner for us.”

I rose from the bed. “Father asked me to pick up a box of roofing nails today, but I didn’t have time. Thomas said he’d drive me into town this evening to get them to save time in the morning, if I wanted.” Rebecca stared at me with raised brows and eyes full of confusion. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight,” I suggested carefully.

Rebecca’s face lit up. “Truly? I can go to town with you?”

“Sure. I don’t think Father or Mother will have a problem with it. After all, I’ll pay the driver from my own money and Father needs those nails.”

“Where shall we eat?” Rebecca asked excitedly with a bounce.

“Billy’s Diner and Saloon.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened and her mouth exploded into a huge smile. “Ma and Da will be so angry if we eat there.”

“That’s why it’ll be our little secret. Are you all right with that?”

She drew nearer. “I’m more than okay ‒ and you know I can keep a secret.”

“Yes, I do.” My heart raced. “I’ll call Thomas, and then feed the horses and calves.” I glanced at the wall clock. “Be ready to leave in a half hour.”

Rebecca bobbed her head and ran out of the room. She had her own chores to finish before we could leave.

My gaze strayed to her sketchbook on the desktop. I had no doubt that it was best for Rebecca to leave, especially after the drawing I’d just spied. Her mind was too busy to ever be satisfied with the ways of an Amish woman. I only hoped that whatever darkness had touched her spirit would be permanently lifted once she got her freedom. Because if it followed her to the outside world, there would be no one there to save her.

Heaviness settled over my mind as I jogged down the steps and went out through the doorway. Was I doing the right thing? Only time would tell. There was one thing that put an extra spring to my step. I would see Katie Porter this very night. It was a foolish thing to do, I knew, but I felt reckless ‒ just like my little sister.

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