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  A LOVE FOR LEAH

  “You and I got off to a rocky start the first time we met, jah?”

  She nodded.

  “Why? I didn’t know you, and you didn’t know me. So why did we immediately start arguing with each other?”

  “I don’t pretend to know.”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Acting like you hate me so you don’t have to face the truth.”

  “What truth? That I like you?”

  “Jah.”

  “That’s the most absurd thing I have ever heard.”

  “Is it? Then why can Hannah see it?”

  “Hannah is seeing what she wants to see.”

  But somehow he knew there was something more to it than that. “There’s one way to find out for certain.”

  “How’s that?” she asked.

  He knew if he said the words there was no going back, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was foolish and bold and possibly crazy. But he was certain this was one time when he needed to take a chance. “Kiss me . . .”

  Books by Amy Lillard

  The Wells Landing Series

  CAROLINE’S SECRET

  COURTING EMILY

  LORIE’S HEART

  JUST PLAIN SADIE

  TITUS RETURNS

  MARRYING JONAH

  THE QUILTING CIRCLE

  The Pontotoc Mississippi Series

  A HOME FOR HANNAH

  A LOVE FOR LEAH

  Amish Mysteries

  KAPPY KING AND THE PUPPY KAPER

  KAPPY KING AND THE PICKLE KAPER

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  A Love For Leah

  Amy Lillard

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  A LOVE FOR LEAH

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Amy Lillard

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  BOUQUET Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4568-7

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4569-4

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4569-X

  To my sister Susan and her beautiful daughter Olivia.

  And to all the families created from tragedy and adoption.

  God has a plan.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I can’t speak for all authors of Amish fiction, but I am researching every chance I get. I love to travel to the places where my books are set. I love talking to the people, getting the “lay of the land,” and otherwise living the experience so I can bring it to the reader. Inevitably I get home and start writing when questions arise.

  As always I owe a big thank-you to my Amish friends in Lancaster who always answer my general questions and never remind me that I might have asked that one before. Thanks to the people of Pontotoc and the incredible Amish of Randolph. Your unique community is both amazing and beautiful in its simplicity.

  Another big thank-you goes out to my reader Patti Gallagher who navigated this poor Baptist through the modern Mennonite church. Patti, you are a wonderful help and any mistakes on the workings of the Mennonite church are my own.

  To my assistant, best friend, Girl Friday, and all around good-deed Carl, Stacey Barbalace, thanks always for being there to answer questions, proofread, and listen to me cry when things (aka, the plot) is not coming together as I had planned.

  Thanks to my family for always standing behind me, even if among the encouraging words are not-so-subtle hints to catch up the laundry and cook something for supper. You are my heart and my life.

  A super big thank-you goes out to the Seymour Agency and my wonderful editor at Kensington, John Scognamiglio. These books don’t just write themselves you know! Thanks for all you do!

  And thanks to you, the reader. Without you, this journey wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. I’m glad we’re on this ride together!

  Chapter One

  Leah’s heart beat a little faster in her chest as she pulled her car down the lane leading to her parents’ house. Coming home. It always felt the same, like riding a roller coaster with no restraints. Even after all this time.

  “Who’s that?” Brandon, her fifteen-year-old nephew, pointed to the buggy parked to one side. He may have only been in Amish country for a short while, but already he could tell the subtle differences in each individual buggy. The Amish might strive for community and sameness, but some things couldn’t be completely contained.

  “I don’t know.” And she really didn’t care. Not to be rude, but she was too tired to give it much thought other than that her family seemed to have company a lot. She didn’t need to know who it was as long as there was still a place for her at the table. She pulled her car next to the parked carriage and turned off the engine.

  The evening sun had dipped behind the tree line. September was quickly approaching, and soon it would be dark. That was the thing about fall and winter. The days were shorter, and when she had so much to do. Lord, please.

  That was her prayer of late. Only two words, but powerful. She had been praying the same prayer for weeks, ever since she decided to open Twice Blessed, a secondhand store on Main. She had prayed so often she figured God knew what she was about to say. No sense in wasting His time with too many words.

  She rested her head against the steering wheel and released a heavy sigh. It felt good to just sit there for a moment and soak it all in: being home, the upcoming grand opening of her store, and life.

  “Aunt Leah?”

  She turned her head, opening her eyes to find Brandon looking in the passenger side window. A small frown of concern wrinkled his brow.

  “Are you coming in?”

  “Yeah.” She sat up and grabbed her bag out of sheer habit. It wasn’t like she needed her things at her childhood home.

  She slung the strap over one shoulder and followed Brandon up the porch steps.

  As usual, the Gingerich house was buzzing with activity. Brandon jumped right in, heading toward the back of the house where the kitchen was located. To get a snack or lend a hand, who knew? That was the thing about teenagers—they were hard to read.

  “Hey, sis.
How’s the store coming?” Her twin sister, Hannah, swept in from the direction of the kitchen carrying a basket of bread. She deposited it on the table as Leah set her purse in a nearby chair.

  “Good. Good.” She moved in for a hug.

  It felt more than good, more than wonderful, to feel her sister’s arms around her. They had been so close growing up, but when Hannah decided to get a taste of the Englisch world, everything changed. It had taken fifteen years, but finally they were back on track.

  “We have guests,” Hannah whispered as she moved away.

  “What kind of guests?”

  “The male variety. One grown, one about six.”

  “Anyone we know?”

  Hannah shook her head, her loosely tied prayer kapp strings swaying with the motion. It was still a little bit of a shock to see her sister in her Amish clothing. It had been so long since Hannah had worn Plain dresses. But Leah was starting to get used to it. “They’re from Ethridge.”

  There were two Amish settlements in Tennessee. The one in Ethridge was the largest, while the one in Adamsville was small, like theirs in Pontotoc, Mississippi. Adamsville had sprung from nowhere when couples who lived in Pontotoc had too much family in Ethridge and grew homesick. The small town was a halfway point of sorts between the two communities.

  “Where did Mamm find them?”

  Eunice Gingerich seemed to always be on the lookout for lost souls. Maybe that was where Leah got it, that need to help her fellow man.

  “You know Mamm.”

  That she did.

  Hannah moved in close. “I think he’s looking for a wife. Well, at least Mamm seems determined to find him one.”

  “Gracie?” Leah asked, speaking of their cousin.

  Hannah shrugged. “If Gracie gets married, Mamm won’t have any help.”

  “You’re here.”

  “Just for a while.” By this time next year, Hannah Gingerich McLean would marry Aaron Zook and become the mother of three new children she obviously adored.

  Leah wasn’t the least bit jealous. She had led an eventful life, one that she certainly couldn’t have lived if she had remained in her small home community. She had traveled to faraway places, other countries, to build shelters for the poor, repair schools, and tell people about Jesus. Fulfilling.

  “What are we whispering about?” Gracie glided into the room, the platter of roast beef nearly hiding her face from them.

  “Our supper guests.”

  Gracie’s mouth formed a small O as she set the food on the table.

  “Where’s Tillie?” Leah asked. Their youngest sister was seriously dating her longtime friend Melvin Yoder. Well, as serious as dating could be before either one of them had joined the church. But once that decision was official, everyone expected they would marry as soon as possible.

  “Picking the last of the tomatoes,” Gracie said.

  “He seems nice enough,” Hannah said.

  “Who? The man?” Leah asked.

  Hannah nodded. “And Peter’s a little cutie. But . . .”

  “But what?” she asked.

  “You’ll see at supper. Now come help us set the table.”

  * * *

  With all three women working, it didn’t take long to get the food to the large dining table that sat in a room off the kitchen. In fact, it took longer to get all the people there. But once Leah’s father came in from his workshop—she knew he was trying to squeeze every ounce of daylight from the sky—her younger brother, David, followed close behind. Jim, the eldest, had most likely headed to his own house across the way to eat with his own wife and children.

  Introductions went all around. Leah did her best to hide her surprise when she was presented to Jamie Stoltzfus. To say he wasn’t what she had expected would be a huge understatement. Not that she had known what to expect. Tall and broad, Jamie was younger than she had imagined, with reddish-blond hair and eyes the color of a spring sky. She could picture those eyes sparkling with laughter, but right now they were serious, with fine lines at the corners. Worried. That was the word. His eyes were beautiful, but worried.

  “How do you like Pontotoc so far?” Leah asked, looking from Jamie to Peter. He really was an adorable child. He favored his uncle quite a bit, enough that they could easily pass for father and son.

  Peter ducked his head and stared down at his bare feet. Fall was coming, and soon he would be forced to wear shoes—a terrible time for most kids in the district.

  Leah waited for Peter to glance back up, fighting his own shyness, but his gaze remained downcast. She looked to Jamie, who acted as if nothing was amiss. “Not much different from Tennessee. Just smaller.”

  Her mother bustled past with a pitcher of water and smiled. “You’ll get used to it soon enough. There are days when I feel it’s too big.” She turned her attention to Peter. “What do you think?”

  Peter’s head dropped a little lower.

  “He doesn’t . . . talk.” Jamie cleared his throat. “Not since the accident.”

  All conversation came to a halt. Normally Gingerich family time was busy and loud. Was it any wonder, with nearly ten people waiting to be fed?

  “Oh.” Mamm set the pitcher on the vinyl tablecloth and blinked. Her expression was one of shocked sympathy, but somehow Leah didn’t think Jamie would appreciate the sentiment.

  “It’s all right though,” Jamie said. His eyes held a bright light, as if he was doing everything possible to convince those around him, as well as himself.

  Slowly the conversation around them had picked back up. Yet Peter kept his gaze trained firmly on the floor. Something about the boy touched Leah’s heart. It could’ve been his mop of coppery brown hair that hung almost to his shoulders, or those blue eyes so like his uncle’s. But it was more than that. It was the haunted look on his face, the shadows that deepened his eyes as if he had seen far too much in his short years.

  “What happened to the back of your hand?” At Brandon’s question, everyone’s attention swung back to Peter. He seemed to withdraw into himself, making his presence even less than it had been before.

  Gracie hurried over and linked her arm with Leah’s. “My goodness,” she chirped. “We forgot to put the butter on the table. Brandon, can you help me with the butter?” She said the words even as she steered Leah toward the doorway leading into the kitchen.

  Brandon looked at her as if she had completely lost her mind. “Can’t you—”

  “I’ll help too.” Not one to be left out, Hannah eased past them all and into the next room.

  They all bustled into the kitchen, where Brandon propped one hip on the smaller kitchen table and looked at his aunts and cousin. “Now, that wasn’t obvious at all,” he drawled. “I take it that it’s some secret?”

  Gracie shook her head. “Not a secret, but a painful memory.”

  They had only a moment to wait before Hannah picked up the rest of the story. “Did you hear about that fire in Ethridge?”

  “About six months ago?” Gracie clarified.

  Leah thought through all the news she remembered hearing in the last few months. “The house fire?”

  “That’s the one.” Gracie nodded.

  “But—” Leah looked back toward the dining room. She had spent enough time in both rooms to know that they couldn’t be overheard, but she lowered her voice all the same. “His parents died.”

  “And his baby sister,” Hannah filled in.

  “Peter himself was in the hospital for a couple of months.”

  “Poor family.” Leah made a mental note to add the Stoltzfuses to her prayer list. She might be exhausted and hanging on by a thread, but there were others out there still in need.

  “So that mark,” Brandon said, “it’s a burn scar?”

  “Jah,” Gracie said. “But don’t mention it. Peter is sensitive.”

  Brandon nodded. “I read this book once where these two kids run into a burning schoolhouse to save some other kids. One got really burned, but he died.�
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  Leah’s heart went out to what was left of the family—an uncle and a son. They had traveled so far for a chance to start over.

  David poked his head into the kitchen and gave them all a small grin. “Dat said quit whatever it is you think you’re doing and get back to the table. We have company and it’s time to pray. Oh, and Mamm said bring the applesauce.”

  “Jah. Okay,” Hannah murmured and moved to exit the kitchen. Leah grabbed the applesauce while Brandon and Gracie started toward the dining room once again.

  The air around the table was thick with suppressed emotion. Leah could feel it like a weight pressing her down into her seat. The oppressive atmosphere did not change as everyone bowed their heads to pray. In no time, they were passing food around as everyone filled their plates. At least the conversation had started to flow again, though it was more stilted than smooth.

  “What do you do, Jamie?” David asked as he scooped out a helping of mashed potatoes.

  “For a living?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  Jamie cleared his throat. “I was hoping to get into a bit of handiwork.”

  “Like repairs and things?” David asked.

  Jamie nodded. “I don’t have enough land to farm. Farming’s hard, going it alone.”

  Nods went all around the men at the table.

  “Leah opened a store,” Tillie blurted.

  “Not yet,” Leah murmured.

  “Well, this week.”

  Jamie turned those incredibly blue eyes to her. “Is that so? What kind of store?”

  “It’s a resale shop. You know, clothes and house goods.”

  He nodded. “Where is it?” he asked. “In front of your house?”

  Most all Amish in Pontotoc had a small store in front of their house in which to sell their family’s products. Jams, jellies, pickles, and sauerkraut were peddled on a regular basis.