Love Blooms in Winter Read online

  Emma turned to see Bishop Miller approach. He spared a smile for her as he drew near enough to lean his arms across the wooden side of the wagon and watch the activity inside. Samuel helped Papa to his feet and handed him the broad-brimmed hat that had fallen off. Emma breathed a sigh of relief when he took a ginger step to try out his leg and smiled at the absence of pain.

  “My son is fine.” Maummi waved a hand in his direction, as though in proof. “And so is my hutch. Though my heart may not say the same, such a fright I’ve had.” She placed the hand lightly on her chest, drew a shuddering breath, and wavered on her feet.

  Concern for her grandmother propelled Emma toward the back of the wagon. As she climbed up, she called into the house, “Rebecca, bring a cool cloth for Maummi’s head.”

  The men backed away while Katie and several other women converged on the wagon to help Emma lift Maummi down and over to the rocking chair that rested in the shade of the porch, ready to be loaded onto the cart. Maummi allowed herself to be lowered into the chair, and then she wilted against the back, her head lolling sideways and arms dangling. A disapproving buzz rumbled among the watching women, but Emma ignored them. Though she knew full well that most of the weakness was feigned for the sake of the bishop and other onlookers, she also knew Maummi’s heart tended to beat unevenly in her chest whenever she exerted herself. Yet another reason why she ought to stay behind in Apple Grove, but Maummi insisted her place was with Emma, her oldest granddaughter. What she really meant was that she intended to inspect every eligible young Amish man in Troyer and hand-pick her future grandson-in-law.

  Aunt Gerda had written to say she anticipated that her only daughter would marry soon, and she’d appreciate having Emma come to help her around the house. She’d also mentioned the abundance of marriageable young men in Troyer, with a suggestion that twenty-year-old Emma was of an age that the news might be welcome. Rebecca had immediately volunteered to go in Emma’s place. Though Papa appeared to consider the idea, he decided to send Emma because she was the oldest and therefore would be in need of a husband soonest. Maummi insisted on going along in order to “Keep an eye on this hoard of men Gerda will parade before our Emma.”

  As far as Emma was concerned, they should just send Maummi on alone and leave her in Apple Grove to wait for her future husband to be delivered to her doorstep.

  Rebecca appeared from inside the house with a dripping cloth in hand. A strand of wavy dark hair escaped its pins and fluttered freely beside the strings of her kapp. At barely thirteen, Rebecca possessed the rosy cheeks and smooth, high forehead that reminded Emma so sharply of their mother that at times her heart ached.

  Rebecca looked at Maummi’s dramatic posture, and her eyes rolled upward. She had little patience with Maummi’s feigned heart episodes, and she was young enough that she had yet to learn proper restraint in concealing her emotions. Emma awarded her sister with a stern look and held out a hand for the cloth.

  With a contrite bob of her head, Rebecca handed it over and dropped to her knees beside the rocking chair. “Are you all right, Maummi?”

  “Ach, I’m fine. I don’t think it’s my time. Yet.”

  Emma rang the excess water from the cloth, waved it in the air to cool, and then draped it across the back of Maummi’s neck.

  “Danki.” The elderly woman realized that the men had stopped working in order to watch her, and she waved her hand in a shooing motion. “Place those quilts over my hutch before you load anything else! Mind, Jonas, no scratches.”

  Papa shook his head, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Ja, I remember.”

  The gray head turned toward Emma. “Granddaughter, see they take proper care.”

  “I will, Maummi.”

  Katie joined Emma to oversee the wrapping of the hutch. When Samuel Miller offered a strong arm to help Katie up into the wagon, Emma hid a smile. No doubt she would receive a letter at her new home soon, informing her that a wedding date had been published. Because Samuel was the bishop’s son, there was no fear he’d not receive the Zeungis, the letter of good standing. Rebecca would be thrilled at the news of a proper wedding in tiny Apple Grove.

  But Emma would be far away, in Troyer, and would miss her friend’s big day.

  Why must I live in Troyer when everything I love is here?

  She draped a thick quilt over her end of the hutch and sidled away while Papa secured a rope around it. The faces of her friends and family looked on. They filled the area between the house and the barn, maybe eighty in total. She knew every one, loved every one in her own way. Yes, even Amos Beiler. She sought him out among the crowd and smiled at the two little girls who hovered near his side. Poor, lonely Amos. He was a good father to his motherless family. No doubt he’d make a fine husband, and if she married him, she wouldn’t have to move to Troyer. The thought tempted her once again, as it often had over the past several weeks since Papa announced his decision that she would live with Aunt Gerda for a while.

  But she knew that if she agreed to become Amos’ wife, she’d be settling. True, she’d gain a prosperous farm and a nice house and a trio of well-behaved children, with the promise of more to come. But the fact remained that though there was much to respect about Amos, she didn’t love him. The thought of seeing that moon-shaped face and slightly cross-eyed stare over the table for breakfast, dinner, and supper sent a shiver rippling across her shoulders. Not to mention sharing a marriage bed with him. It was enough to make her throw her apron over her face and run screaming across Papa’s cornfield.

  He deserves a wife who loves him, she told herself for the hundredth time. Her conscience thus soothed, Emma turned away from his mournful stare.

  “That trunk goes in the front,” Maummi shouted from her chair on the porch. “Emma, show them where.”

  Emma shrank against the gigantic hutch to give the men room to settle the trunk containing all her belongings. An oiled canvas tarp had been secured over the top to repel any rain they might meet. Inside, atop her dresses, aprons, bonnets, and kapps, was a bundle more precious to her than anything else in the wagon. A quilt, expertly and lovingly stitched, nestled within a heavy canvas pouch. Mama had made it with her own hands for Emma’s hope chest. The last stitch was bitten off just hours before she closed her eyes and stepped into the arms of her Lord.

  Oh, Mama, if you were here you could convince Papa to let me stay home. I know you could. And now, without you, what will happen to me?

  Yet, even in the midst of the dreary thought, a spark of hope flickered in the darkness in Emma’s heart. The future yawned before her like an endless Kansas prairie. Wasn’t there beauty to be found in the tall, blowing grasses of the open plain? Weren’t there cool streams and shady trees to offer respite from the heat of the day? Maybe Troyer would turn out to be an oasis.

  “Emma!”

  Maummi’s sharp tone cut through her musing. She jerked upright. Her grandmother appeared to have recovered from her heart episode. From the vantage point of her chair, she oversaw every movement with a critical eye.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Mind what I said about that loading, girl. The food carton goes on last. We won’t have time to go searching for provisions when we stop at night on the trail.”

  An approving murmur rose from the women at the wisdom of an organized wagon.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Emma exchanged a quick grin with Katie and directed the man carrying the carton of canned goods and trail provisions to set his burden aside for now.

  A little while later, when all had been loaded and secured under an oiled canvas, the men stood around to admire their handiwork. Samuel even crawled beneath the wagon to check the support struts, and he pronounced everything to be “in apple-pie order.”

  Emma felt a pluck on her arm. She turned to find Katie at her elbow.

  “This is a gift for you.” Her friend pushed a small package into her hands. “It’s only a soft cloth and some fancy colored threads. I was fixing to stitch you a design, bu
t you’re so much better at fine stitchery than I am that I figured you could make something prettier by yourself.” She ducked her head. “Think kindly of me when you do.”

  Warmed by her friend’s gesture, Emma pulled her into an embrace. “I will. And I expect a letter from you soon.” She let Katie see her glance slide over to Samuel and back with a grin. “Especially when you have something exciting to report.”

  A becoming blush colored the girl’s cheeks. “I will,” she promised.

  Emma was still going down the line, awarding each woman a farewell hug, when Bishop Miller stepped up to the front of the wagon and motioned for attention.

  “Time now to bid Jonas Switzer Godspeed and fair weather for his travels.” A kind smile curved his lips when he looked to Maummi and then to Emma. “And our prayers go with our sisters Marta and Emma as they make a new home in Troyer.”

  He bowed his head and closed his eyes, a sign for everyone in the Apple Grove district to follow suit. Emma obeyed, fixing her thoughts on the blue skies overhead and the Almighty’s throne beyond. Silence descended, interrupted only by the snorts of oxen and a happy bird in the tall, leafy tree that gave shade over the porch.

  What will I find in Troyer? A new home, as the bishop says? A fine Amish husband, as Papa wishes? I pray it be so. And I pray he will be the second son of his father, so he will come home with me to Apple Grove and take over Papa’s farm when the time comes.

  A female sniffled behind her. Not Katie, but Rebecca. A twist inside Emma’s ribcage nearly sent tears to her eyes. Oh, how she would miss her sister when Rebecca left Troyer to return home with Papa. She vowed to make the most of their time together on the trail between here and there.

  Bishop Miller ended the prayer with a blessing in High German, his hand on the head of the closest oxen. When the last word fell on the quiet crowd, Maummi’s voice sliced through the cool morning air. “Now that we’re seen off proper, someone heft me up. We’ll be gone before the sun moves another inch across the sky.”

  Though she’d proved earlier that she could make the leap herself at need, Maummi allowed Papa and the bishop to lift her into the wagon. She took her seat in her rocking chair, which was wedged between the covered hutch and one high side of the wagon bed. With a protective pat on the hutch, she settled her sewing basket at her feet and pulled a piece of mending into her lap. No idle hands for Maummi. By the time they made Troyer, she’d have all the mending done, and the darning too, and a good start on a new quilt.

  Emma spared one more embrace for Katie, steadfastly ignored Amos’ mournful stare, and allowed the bishop to help her up onto the bench seat. She scooted over to the far end to make room for Papa, and then Rebecca was lifted up to sit on the other side of him. A snug fit, but they would be okay for the six-day journey to Troyer. Emma settled her black dress and smoothed her apron.

  “Now, Jonas, mind you what I said.” Maummi’s voice from behind their heads sounded a bit shrill in the quiet morning. “You cut a wide path around Hays City. I’ll not have my granddaughters witness to the ufrooish of those wild Englischers.”

  On the other side of Papa, Rebecca heaved a loud sigh. Emma hid her grin. No doubt Rebecca would love to witness the rowdy riots of wild cowboy Englischers in the infamous railroad town of Hays.

  Papa mumbled something under his breath that sounded like “This will be the longest journey of my life,” but aloud he said, “Ja, Mader.”

  With a flick of the rope, he urged the oxen forward. The wagon creaked and pitched as it rolled on its gigantic wheels. Emma grabbed the side of the bench with one hand and lifted her other hand in a final farewell as her home fell away behind her.

  The One Who Waits for Me

  He touched her heart as no other man ever had… Would she be willing to wait for him?

  Summer, 1865—In the months just after the end of the Civil War, old ways of life are changing in the South. At a plantation in North Carolina, three young women are determined to leave everything behind for an unknown future without an evil uncle or cousin.

  But Beth Jornigan, her sister, Joanie, and their friend Trella encounter trouble from the very start. A fire racing through dry cotton fields almost ends their journey before it has a chance to begin. Fortunately, soldiers on their way home rescue them just in time. Only these brave young men don’t want the trouble that lovely, defenseless women will surely bring. They are more than ready to do nothing but put the war behind them, eat fresh-baked pie, and drink sweet tea surrounded again by their families.

  And yet both the men and women discover that God sometimes has other plans than the ones we hold dear, and embracing those plans just may be an adventure and a chance for all of their dreams to come true.

  The intersecting lives and tales of these engaging characters and those they meet along the way create an uplifting story of tested faith, growing seeds of love, and the challenge and gift of believing in God’s promise of a future and a hope.

  Outlaw’s Bride

  What are you going to do, McAllister? Put your life on hold forever and let a woman like Ragan slip through your fingers so you can pursue scum like Bledso?

  Johnny knew Bledso wasn’t worth a hair on Ragan’s head. Why couldn’t he let it go and just get on with his life?

  Convicted of a bank robbery he didn’t commit, drifter Johnny McAllister is sentenced to do time in a rehabilitation program in the home of Judge Proctor McMann, a gentle, wise soul who believes in second chances.

  Johnny’s aim is to be a model prisoner. He hopes to be released early to return to his life’s mission: to find and kill Dirk Bledso, the man who wiped out his family 16 years before. Johnny has planned for everything…except his encounter with Ragan Ramsey, the judge’s beautiful and kind housekeeper, and his involvement with the generous folks of Barren Flats.

  Can this would-be outlaw let go of his hate and anger and embrace something better—something he can’t yet see?

  A Kiss for Cade

  The corner of Cade’s eye caught a glimpse of a redheaded woman entering the drugstore. His quickening heartbeat caught him off guard. For a moment he thought it was Zoe. It wasn’t. He settled back in the saddle, grinning. Zoe Bradshaw. Now there was a woman not easily forgotten.

  Famous bounty hunter Cade Kolby is forced off the trail to decide the fate of his late sister’s orphaned children. He’s not only returning to his hometown and nieces and nephews but also to a fiery redhead he loved and left 15 years ago.

  The last person Zoe Bradshaw wants to see is Cade, but she does want to raise her best friend’s children as her own. So she tries to be polite, if cool, even as the attraction between them flares up again. Only this time, Zoe is determined not to let Cade get close to her heart.

  But the townsfolk have other ideas. They want to see the little orphans with a mother and a father, and they form a plan that includes the possibility of a kiss…

  Walker’s Wedding

  “You can’t let one woman ruin your whole life, son,” the old foreman said. “You got to pray harder and ask that the good Lord will send the right woman. You got to produce an heir.”

  Walker thought he had plenty of time to worry about marriage and kids. After Trudy’s betrayal, it would be a cold day in July before he gave his heart to another woman.

  Abandoned by his fiancée just hours before their wedding, Walker McKay is determined to never let a woman near his heart again. Then a near-fatal accident makes producing an heir to the ranch a high priority. Beginning all over and courting someone new is out of the question, so he’ll have to find a wife another way.

  Wealthy railroad heiress Sarah Livingston wants to be married, but her suitors are either fortune hunters or deemed unsuitable by her unreasonable father. When the opportunity comes to take the place of a mail-order bride, she believes she’s found the answer to her husband problem and grabs it with both hands.

  Will Sarah’s deception and Walker’s wounded heart keep them from finding what they are both look
ing for? Or will they discover that they are, after all, truly meant for each other?

  About the Publishers

  To learn more about books by Lori Copeland or to read sample chapters, log on to our website:

  www.harvesthousepublishers.com

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  EUGENE, OREGON