neither expected. Life can be like that sometimes—surprising. As for their future, God isn’t finished with either of them yet, in the same way He isn’t finished with you or with me.
I hope you enjoyed reading An Unlikely Amish Match. I welcome comments and letters at [email protected].
May we continue to “always give thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20).
Blessings,
Vannetta
Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.
—Philippians 1:6
But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.
—Luke 15:20
This book is dedicated to Ms. Peggy Looper, who inspired in me a real love for the art of storytelling.
Contents
Note to Readers
Susannah Beiler was carrying a to-go bag holding half of a cinnamon roll in one hand and her coffee in the other when she stepped out of Cabin Coffee and started across the street. At that exact moment, a large Ford pickup truck careened to the curb. Her friend Deborah pulled her back with a laugh and a smile. “Wouldn’t do to have you flattened on the streets of Goshen on this beautiful spring day.”
After all she’d been through the last two years, it would be ironic. Susannah shook off that thought and would have walked across the street that was now clear, but Deborah stepped back under the canopy of the coffee shop and nodded toward the truck. “Do you ever wonder why people act like that?”
The music was blaring at such a high level that the vehicle was practically rocking. The truck sported a bright blue paint job with streaks of lightning painted down the side, a large chrome bumper and spinning tire rims.
“Why would you jack it up so high?” Susannah crossed her arms, tapping her right index finger against her left arm. Sometimes she felt like she didn’t understand other people at all.
“And who would want to purchase such big tires? They look as if they’d fit a tractor.”
“Ya, I’m not sure what the point is.”
They glanced at one another when a young man jumped out of the truck, empty fast-food bags and soda cans trailing after him. He noticed the girls, smiled in a cocky Englisch way and then realized they were staring at the litter that had escaped from the truck.
“Oops.” He snatched up the trash and tossed it into an adjacent trash can before once again flashing them both a smile.
He was a bit taller than Susannah, but then, most men were. He was also built like the mule her dat kept to watch over the goats—stocky and muscular. Blue jeans, a T-shirt that sported the logo of some rock and roll band, and sandy-colored hair flopping into his eyes and curling at his neck completed the picture.
Deborah laughed, but Susannah shook her head.
