An Amish Mother's Secret Past and Her Amish Suitor's Secret by Jo Ann Brown

Author:Jo Ann Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2021-11-29T20:14:47+00:00

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After the van driver dropped him off at the end of the long dirt driveway—which appeared more like a road—leading to the lakeside cabins, Caleb inhaled the piney scent, trying to calm his nerves. He’d spent nearly every moment since he called Nancy the weekend before preparing for his arrival here. He’d ordered an Amish hat and clothing and listened to as many recordings of people speaking Deitsch as he could find online. He’d even considered traveling the hour and a half from Madison to Green Lake County to hang out at the Amish market and practice the language, but he didn’t want to do anything to draw attention to himself.

He surveyed the fields as he ambled past them. Nancy had told him most of the acreage was used for berries and potatoes, but they also grew a variety of fruits and vegetables, from asparagus to watermelons and everything in between. From what Caleb could discern, their crops were flourishing. He’d developed an interest in horticulture as a teenager, when being alone outdoors provided him with an escape from his parents’ quarrels, and Caleb anticipated managing the gardens would be the most pleasant part of his role here, too.

The open fields gave way to a little forest of pine trees and once he’d trekked another quarter of a mile, Caleb spied what appeared to be the main house, as well as the roofs and back walls of several small cabins. He dallied a moment in the shade, his heart thumping in his ears. He felt as nervous as if he were waiting offstage, about to perform in a play—and in a way, he was.

“Wilkom,” a trim middle-aged woman called from the porch of the main house as Caleb approached. She pushed herself up from the wooden glider and waved to him.

“Guder nammidaag,” he replied, his voice cracking dryly.

“I’m Nancy Petersheim,” she said when he climbed the steps. “You must be Caleb Miller.”

“I am, jah,” he answered awkwardly, and set down his suitcase. Some Amish shook hands and others didn’t, so he waited for Nancy to take the lead.

“You walked in from the road? You must be parched. I’ll bring you a cool drink and a slice of Rose’s aebeer babrag boi. Take a seat.”

Caleb knew aebeer meant strawberry and boi meant pie, but his mind went blank on the word babrag. He sat in a glider and scanned the grounds. The property in front of the main house sloped down toward the lake. From where he was situated on the porch, Caleb’s view of the water was partially obscured by trees, but he could see enough of the lake to understand why it was referred to as pristine on the flyer his brother had received. He counted nine small cabins tucked beneath the pines, each one angled toward the water. To his delight, he noticed the ground was covered in needles. No grass means no mowing. His least favorite part of yard work.

He turned toward the door as Nancy emerged with a tray of goodies.

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