involvement, but all of his ideas are put to the test when his childhood playmate Rebecca Mast returns to the farm next door after the death of her husband. Sorrow and pain have changed Rebecca drastically from the happy girl he knew, and he feels compelled to help her despite the danger that his childhood friend might become his forever love.
The Amish community of Lost Creek is based on several Amish groups here in central Pennsylvania, most of them daughter settlements to the Lancaster County Amish. They’ve settled here for the less expensive farmland and the welcoming environment. Most of my story ideas begin with a place, and I love it when I can write about my own home area, the place I love most.
Please let me know if you enjoyed my story. You can reach me via my website, www.martaperry.com, on my Facebook page, www.Facebook.com/martaperrybooks, and via email at [email protected]. I’d be happy to reply and to send you a signed bookmark and my brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes.
All the best,
Marta Perry
This story is dedicated to my husband, Brian, with much love.
Contents
Two days after Rebecca Mast’s return to her childhood home in Lost Creek, she walked down the lane of the family farm toward her future. Her black widow’s dress contrasted starkly with the pale greens and bright yellows of a sunny spring day in the Pennsylvania countryside. Her son, six-year-old Elijah, trudged next to her, holding tight to her hand rather than skipping and hopping ahead down the lane like one of his cousins would.
It was early yet, she assured herself. Surely soon he’d forget the darkness of the past few years and be like any other Amish child his age. That was the heartfelt prayer of her heart for her son. As for her...well, the return to normal would take longer, if it ever happened.
But at least she was home, with her family around her, and today she would take the first step toward a new life for her son and herself. That alone was something to make her heart thankful.
The two-story frame house came into view ahead of them, standing at the point where the farm lane met the country road. When her mammi had written that old Mr. Evans had gone to live with his daughter and put the house up for sale, she’d known exactly what she wanted to do with the money she’d receive for selling the farm she and James had owned in Ohio.
The down payment James’s brother, John, had given her had been enough to cover the cost of the house. John’s continuing monthly payments would pay to remodel the old place into a secure, peaceful home for her and Elijah, and the quilt shop she’d have in the downstairs rooms would support them. That was the extent of her dreams for the future, and it was enough.
Daniel King stood, waiting by the back porch, leaning against one of the posts as if he could wait there all day for her, if need be. As they came closer, her stomach tightened as she searched the tall, broad figure for a glimpse of the neighbor boy who’d been her childhood playmate. She didn’t find him, nor did she see the gangly teenager who’d told her all about his crushes on the girls in their rumspringa group.
