Chapter One
a
Dinah Hershberger came to the end of the early-morning rush at her bakery and coffee shop and let out a breath. She'd hoped to keep the shop going after her husband's death, needing the sense of purpose it gave her. But if the bakery continued to be this busy, she would need some help.
Adding three tables and coffee service seemed to have made the difference. Most of the small community of Promise Glen seemed to stop by for morning coffee and one of her baked treats. Maybe her younger sister, Lovina, would be willing to work a few hours a week. The thought made her smile. Lovina would liven up the mornings-that was certain sure.
Brushing off the white apron that protected the black dress she'd worn during the two years since Aaron's death, she headed for the pantry at the rear of the shop. She'd need a few more muffin tins if she were to use up the abundance of zucchini from the garden in zucchini-nut muffins. They were popular even with customers who'd never touch a zucchini any other way.
The pans she wanted proved to be on a high shelf. Standing on tiptoe to reach them, she managed to lose her grip and send the whole stack clattering to the floor, and her breath caught. Not because of the noise-because of the memory that sprang out at her, clawing at her heart.
She pressed her hand against her ribs, trying to ease her breathing back to normal. The memory of the grief and anger on Aaron's face chilled her. He'd dashed a rack full of pans to the floor, letting the anger come to the surface. If only . . .
No. She wouldn't let her mind travel back to that pain. But if they could have grieved together instead of parting in anger that day . . .
Dinah stopped herself again. Gathering up the pans, she hurried back to the kitchen. Look at the time-she hadn't yet taken Jacob Miller his morning coffee. Her landlord's harness shop was only a swinging door away. Maybe this would be the morning when he'd stop trying to press money on her for the coffee and jelly doughnut that he claimed got him through the time until lunch. She owed Jacob so much more than her rent and the morning coffee. Without him, she'd never have been able to continue the business after Aaron's death.
It took just a moment to pour the coffee and take a jelly doughnut from the glass-fronted cabinet. She preferred crullers herself, but Jacob certain sure had a sweet tooth. With the thick mug in one hand and a small plate with the doughnut in the other, she pushed through the swinging door.
The harness shop was fairly quiet, as it usually was this time of day. She inhaled the scents of leather and neat's-foot oil. With a blindfold on she'd still know which shop she was in. She'd come here with her father when she was small, and it smelled and looked the same today, except that Jacob's father had sat at the heavy sewing machine where Jacob was now.
Dinah walked toward him, thinking he hadn't heard her. But before she reached him, some sense must have alerted him. He slowed the needle, and the heavy belt that extended below the floor stopped. Jacob turned to her with the wide grin that was so friendly that folks couldn't help returning it.
"Ach, I thought I smelled a jelly doughnut coming." He reached the counter in a couple of long strides and relieved her of cup and plate.
"I'm not so sure jelly doughnuts have a smell once they're cool," she said. "Don't you think it's the coffee?"
He shook his head and then bit into the doughnut, raspberry jelly spurting out onto his chin. He wiped it away, smiling with satisfaction. "If I ever marry and grow a beard, I'll have to be more careful of where the filling goes, ain't so?"
"I'm sure you'll manage." The community had been wondering for years when Jacob would take the plunge into marriage. It certain sure wasn't that the women weren't attracted. Every girl in her rumspringa group had had a crush on Jacob, with his light brown hair, lively smile, and broad shoulders.
It seemed odd, when she thought about it, that she'd never succumbed to his attraction, but that was probably because the two families had lived next to each other for generations. Jacob had been more like an extra brother to her than anything else.
He wasn't the boy he'd been, of course. His shoulders were even broader now, probably from wrestling with the heavy harnesses all day long. And if his bright blue eyes sometimes had a tinge of sorrow and there were more lines around his firm mouth than there once were, that was normal enough, given the loss of both his parents within such a short time.
Jacob had had to take over the harness shop much earlier than anyone had expected, but no one denied he was doing as fine a job as his father had done.
The last bite of the doughnut disappeared, and Jacob gave a sigh of satisfaction before diving into his coffee. She shook her head, smiling.
"I never saw anyone consume a doughnut faster than you. Another one?"
Jacob shook his head. "With the fall festival coming at us and four or five weddings as well, I'd best save myself or I'll regret it." He slapped his flat stomach.
"I don't think you need to worry about your figure. You don't look an ounce heavier than when you were side-sitter at our wedding."
As Aaron's close friend, Jacob had been seated next to Aaron on that day, along with Aaron's brother. She'd had her dear friends Sarah and Dorcas sitting next to her. They were all so young and so happy then, with no experience of the sorrow life could bring.
"Ach, I must be a few pounds heavier by now," Jacob said, always careful about mentioning Aaron around her. "Even if there's no one to cook for me."
That reference to his empty house surprised Dinah. He seldom let anyone see that side of his life. Rallying, she shook her head.
"Don't tell me your cousin Sarah and all the relatives don't keep you supplied with home cooking, because I won't believe it. Besides, my mamm is feeding you half the time anyway."
Sarah, Jacob's cousin, was one of Dinah's closest friends. Sarah had been married in the spring to the man she loved, becoming the devoted mother of twin boys. And now Dorcas Beiler, the third of their circle of rumspringa friends, would marry her Thomas in one of the flurry of fall weddings coming up.
Jacob smiled again at the reference to his cousin Sarah. "Actually, Sarah sent Noah over with two shoofly pies first thing this morning. Just in case I didn't have enough for breakfast."
"That doesn't surprise-"
The sound of the telephone from her shop interrupted her. A good thing, because he was just reaching into his cash box. Shaking her head at the money in his outstretched hand, she rushed back through the swinging door and snatched up the phone, catching her breath.
"Hershberger's Bakery. How may I help you?"
"Dinah? Is that you?"
The voice sounded familiar, but who . . . and then she realized, and it was like a roll of thunder on a sunny day. "Anna? Anna Miller?" She gasped. "Where are you?"
"Never mind that. I want-"
"You want your bruder." Excitement coursed through her. "I'll run and get him."
"No!" Anna's shout froze her in place. "Just listen, Dinah. I need your help."
"Your brother . . . ," she tried again. Two years ago Jacob's younger sister, Anna, had disappeared into the Englisch world, leaving Jacob with no one. If she was coming home to him . . .
"Not Jacob. Just you. Please." Anna's voice wavered on the last word, and Dinah's heart melted.
"I'll do anything to help you, Anna. You know that."
"Gut. I want you to get the bus to Williamsport this afternoon. You still close the shop on Tuesday afternoons, don't you?"
"Yah, but . . . Williamsport?" The city was a fairly long bus ride, and one she'd made only a few times in her life. "Why Williamsport?"
"I'll explain when I see you." Anna sounded rushed. "Just come, Dinah. I'll meet you at the bus station. Today. Don't let me down."
She wanted to argue, wanted to say that Jacob would be better able to help than she would. But she feared that Anna's mind was made up and any mention of her brother would ruin this first contact with home.
"Yah, all right. I'll be there." But first, she'd speak with Jacob. Jacob would know what to do for his sister.
"Denke. I knew I could count on you." She paused slightly and then went on. "Just one thing-don't tell Jacob."
"But, Anna-"
"Don't tell him! Not now, anyway. Afterward you can tell him whatever you want, but I have to see you first."
"Anna, listen to me."
"Promise me. Promise me, or none of you will ever hear from me again." Her voice was demanding and shrill, and Dinah gripped the receiver tightly, her stomach churning.
She didn't want to keep anything from Jacob, but it seemed she had no choice. She knew Jacob's headstrong little sister about as well as he did. She knew Anna meant it.
"All right. I'll do as you say. I promise."
"Gut." Anna sounded relieved. "I'll meet you at the bus station."
Before Dinah could say a word, Anna had hung up. Dinah stood there, staring blindly at the buzzing receiver. She ought to tell Jacob, all her instincts told her that, but how could she? If she didn't, he'd be angry, and he'd have the right to be.
It had been two long years since Jacob had seen Anna's empty bedroom and found a note telling him not to look for her.
He did try, of course, but Anna had managed to lose herself completely. Finally he'd come back home, settled into his work, and most of the time looked like a man content with his place in life. Most of the time, anyway, except to those who saw the pain beneath the surface, like Dinah.
Her heart ached to tell him. But she'd promised Anna, because if she hadn't, she would have lost Anna completely. Jacob would have to understand. He would know, as surely as she did, that she had to help his lost sister, even if it meant keeping a secret from him.
Jacob continued to stare at the door even after Dinah had gone through. She looked better now-he was sure of it. For a long time after AaronÕs death she had been a shadow of the girl heÕd known. HeÕd understood, that was certain sure, but even so, it was a relief to see a little of her old self in the laughter in her face and the lift of her head.
For a moment he seemed to see Aaron and Dinah on their wedding day. As one of Aaron's oldest friends, he'd been a side-sitter that day, so he'd had a good view as they sat at worship. They'd looked so happy, but seemed barely old enough to get married. Still, they'd been sure.
Aaron had bubbled with enthusiasm and a sort of triumph at having been the first of his group to marry, hardly able to keep solemn enough to suit the bishop and ministers. As for Dinah . . . well, Dinah's sweet face had glowed with the warmth of an inner fire, so much so that he'd seemed to feel its heat even two seats away. Too bad that things hadn't stayed that way.
The bell on the shop door jingled, and he brought his mind back from the past. Noah Raber, husband of his cousin Sarah, came in. He raised his hand with a smile of greeting.
"Wilkom, Noah. What's happening? You don't often have need for the harness shop."
That was a running joke between them. Noah's furniture workshop was well-known and thriving, so aside from the family horse and buggy, Noah didn't have much use for Jacob's services. He claimed the last harness Jacob's daad had made for him would last a lifetime.
Noah grinned. "Everybody ends up here sooner or later, yah?" He dropped a leather headstall on the counter between them. "I noticed the buckle pulling loose when we got back from worship last Sunday. I figure it's best to get it fixed before it pulls clean off."
"A stitch in time," Jacob said, running the headstall between his fingers. "I wish everybody paid that kind of attention to their gear. I'd certain sure rather do a little fix more often than a big fix that takes me a couple of days."
"Careful, that's me. After all, I'm a family man, not like some people." He shot Jacob a meaningful look.
"Don't tell me you and Sarah have joined the line of relatives who think it's time I was married. Did she tell you to nudge me?"
Noah chuckled. "Well, she might have mentioned it a time or two. When you're happy, you want everybody else to be happy, too, ain't so?"
"You tell her I'm happy enough as I am." He turned the subject off with a laugh, as he always did when someone urged marriage on him. "How are the boys? And how is Sarah? Thriving, I hope."
Everyone in the community knew that Noah and Sarah were soon to add to their family, but as was the custom, a man didn't comment on it until the new arrival was safe in his or her cradle.
He couldn't vouch for what went on in a group of women. They probably talked the subject to death while they were busy quilting crib blankets and knitting little booties and hats.
"You know Sarah. She won't slow down. But she insists she's fine. Even the twins have been rushing around trying to help her." His face warmed at the mention of his twin boys, seven now and devoted to their stepmother.
"Gut for them." He gestured toward the buckle with his coffee mug. "I'll repair while you wait if you have time. It won't take a minute."
"Sure thing. Finish your coffee first." Noah nodded to the mug. "And you might want to wipe the red jelly off your cheek before any more customers come in."
"You don't think it adds to my image as a craftsman?"
"Maybe not. But I see Dinah is taking gut care of you. It's a gut thing, working right next to a bakery." Noah sniffed. "Smells wonderful gut. I might have to stop by."
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