© 2019 by Kate Lloyd
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-1893-0
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the authors’ imaginations and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Dan Thornberg, Design Source Creative Services
Author is represented by MacGregor Literary, Inc.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
Recipes
About the Author
Back Ad
To Kathleen Kohler
CHAPTER ONE
The moment I saw the sign for Miller’s Quilts and Gifts through the onslaught of snow, my throat constricted as if I’d swallowed a handful of salt. I jammed on the brakes, but the car glided through the white flurry, slid into a ditch, and came to rest with a metallic crunch against a fence.
My brain spun with uncertainty, as if I’d gotten onto a roller coaster ride and changed my mind. But it was too late to turn around and drive back home to Hartford, Connecticut. This car wasn’t going anywhere until I called a tow truck. I cut the engine.
At least the airbag hadn’t inflated, making it possible to move. But when I reached for the door handle, I shouldered the door without success. I was trapped.
The snow fell so quickly that my windshield was soon covered with a blanket of white. The setting sun cast a gray shadow. What on earth was I doing here? Who in their right mind would travel to Lancaster County on the day before Christmas Eve?
Me, apparently. Because I wasn’t planning to celebrate Christmas. Ever again. Not since my sister and I took our DNA tests and found out we weren’t related in any way, flipping my world upside down.
We’d gone to our father, as our mother had died two years earlier. The corner of his mouth had lifted a skosh. “Uh . . . we adopted you, Maria. I’d wanted a boy, but your mother said it was too late to change our minds. And then she got pregnant with Trish four years later.”
My sister and I looked at each other with new eyes. I recalled her as a toddler and remembered my mother’s jubilation as they decorated her nursery. “I’m just like Hannah in the Bible,” Mom had said years later. “God answered my prayers.” Her hand moved to the nape of her neck. “He answered them—twice.”
I heard a knock on my window, saw a man’s glove swipe across it. “Are you okay?” came his muffled words. “Unlock the door.”
I fumbled to unlock it as a hefty form tugged at the door and pulled it open past snow-covered grasses.
“Kumm.” He was Amish, dressed the way I’d seen in books and movies, but never in real life. He assisted me in escaping my dungeon.
“Oh! Thank you so much.” With the wind whipping particles of snow into my eyes, I squinted at the shop’s sign, way down a fence-lined lane and what looked to be an impossibly long distance. “I need to go to the quilt shop.”
“It’s not open, but the owners live next door.” Snow accumulated on his black felt hat and shoulders. “It’s five o’clock and tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”
“Yes, I know, but that’s where I’m headed.” I’d have to check the damage to my car later. “Will you help me?”
“Yah, of course.”
When I stood, I found my legs shaky. The man, who looked to be in his upper twenties like me, took my elbow and helped me climb out of the ditch. I chided myself for thinking I could drive my Toyota in the snow. But the weatherman hadn’t predicted this humongous accumulation.
A gust of wind blew the man’s hat off, and he bent to retrieve it. After a shake, he set it squarely on his head.
There wasn’t another vehicle in sight. I felt chill air invading my clothing. “Wait, maybe I should call a tow truck first.”
“I doubt you’ll get help tonight.” He straightened his hat, but the wind threatened to toss it away again. “My friend and I can assist you tomorrow.”
“Really? I heard Amish don’t drive.”
“My friend’s Mennonite, so he can.”
“Oh, okay.” But where would I sleep? I’d planned to find a cheap motel room in town. Well, I’d come this far and would not be deterred. As the sky darkened, I was losing sight of the quilt shop. I couldn’t afford to wait any longer. I took a step and felt icy snow creeping over the tops of my socks.
He proffered a hand. “The snow’s deep, so you best let me give you support.”
“Nah, I’m fine.” A moment later I lost my balance, but he caught me in midair.
“Thanks again,” I said, even though Mom taught me never to trust strangers. Wait, she hadn’t even been my mother. How could I believe her words of advice?
“What’s your name?” I asked, my words muted by a gust of wind.
“Isaac Stoltfuz. You want to borrow my coat?”
“No, that’s okay.” I should have thought to wear warmer clothes.
“And what’s yours?”
Did I want to tell a stranger anything about myself? A first name couldn’t hurt anything. “Maria.” I looked around expecting to spot his buggy but saw nothing. I’d heard the Amish used horses and buggies, and I wouldn’t mind getting a look at one. But evidently he was on foot.
I started my trudge toward the sign for the quilt shop and saw a spacious home. A hurricane lamp in a window cast yellow light across the white lawn. Now that I thought about it,
