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
And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.
—Ephesians 4:32
He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.
—Psalms 147:3
This book is dedicated to Vicki Sewell,
who is so much like family that she is family.
I know you know—but I love you.
I would like to thank my editor, Melissa Endlich, for pushing me to write better. I’d also like to thank the art department and editorial team for helping me through the art forms, line edits and everything in between. Finally, thank you to my agent, Steve Laube, for your continued guidance.
Also a big thanks to my family, who remind me to step away from the computer and experience this thing we call life. It’s when I’m with you that I find the heart of my stories.
And finally, “Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20).
Contents
Caleb Wittmer glanced up from the fence he was mending. Something had caught his eye—a bright blue against the snow-covered fields that stretched in every direction. There it was again, to the north and west, coming along the dirt road.
He stepped closer to the fence. His horse moved with him, nudged his hand.
“Hold on, Stormy.” Caleb squinted his eyes and peered toward the northwest, and then he knew what he was seeing—he just couldn’t make sense of it. Why would a woman be walking on a cold December morning with no coat on?
Goose bumps peppered the skin at the back of his neck. As he watched, the woman wandered to the right of the road and then back to the left.
Something wasn’t right.
He murmured for the gelding to stay, climbed the fence and strode toward her. He’d covered only half of the distance when he noticed that she was wearing Amish clothing, though not their traditional style or color. She was a stranger, then, from a different community. But what was she doing out in the cold with no coat? More disturbing than that, she wore no covering on her head. All Amish women covered their hair when outside—Swiss, Old Order, New Order. It was one of the many things they had in common. The coverings might be styled differently, but always a woman’s head was covered.
He was within thirty feet when he noticed that her long hair was a golden brown, wavy and thick, and unbraided.
At
