An Amish Cinderella

Book 3: Amish of Apple Creek

by Shelley Shepard Gray

Genres: Amish & Mennonite; Christian Fiction; Clean & Wholesome Romance

Synopsis

Set in the close-knit Amish community of Apple Creek, Ohio, this sweet Cinderella-inspired novel from the New York Times and USA Today bestselling and award-winning author is complete with a matchmaking pet rat, and will delight fans of heartwarming, wholesome fiction and readers of Charlotte Hubbard, Beverly Lewis, and Beth Wiseman.
 
Now that her friends are all marrying or moving away, Heart Beachy has started feeling lonely. Worse, everyone keeps asking when she’s going to find a man of her own. Don’t they realize Heart has her hands full at home with her widowed dad, too many chores, and a menagerie of needy, small animals? Besides, she doesn’t understand the fuss about marriage.
 
Newcomer Clayton Glick is utterly charmed by Heart—and completely confounded. He can’t figure out why this beautiful woman is as awkward as a teenager whenever he’s around, which is often now that he’s an apprentice to her blacksmith father. So Clayton starts assisting with Heart’s never-ending tasks, even helping her corral her unruly pets. How else can he court an adorably flustered woman who doesn’t know the first thing about courtship? Because courting is exactly what he intends . . .
 
Heart doesn’t know why her pulse hammers every time she sees Clayton. She only knows yielding to such emotions will mean trouble. . . . But maybe with a little faith—and the loss of a shoe—Clayton can convince her to join him on the road to happily ever after.
 

Release date: September 26, 2023

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

At last, it was December. Though Heart Beachy loved Christmas and all the festivities and traditions surrounding the birth of Jesus, she didn’t care for the month all that much. As far as she was concerned, December was usually too busy, too filled with overblown expectations for the big day, and too cold.

Gazing at the clouds outside the kitchen window, at the way the gray skies seemed to cast a dull pall over the dormant plants and shrubs in the nearby flower beds, she almost . . . almost wished it was January.

At least in January the ground was usually covered in a thick blanket of snow. The fluffy white powder looked clean and bright. Plus, the frigid January temperatures encouraged folks to stay inside and relax. She would dearly love a day or two to relax.

Unfortunately, since it was forty-three degrees and there wasn’t a patch of snow in sight, today would be a different story.

She turned away from the dreary landscape. Grabbing a dishcloth, she began wiping down the counters and tried to think of brighter things. Soon everyone in Apple Creek would be looking forward to building snowmen, gathering for Advent, and displaying Christmas cards. Neighbors would be wrapping presents and baking cookies.

Just like in years past.

Or, for those blessed to be in love, perhaps they’d go on a sleigh ride, complete with bells and ribbons on the sleigh and a prancing horse. Couples could glide down the lane, snug in warm blankets . . . or in each other’s arms. It would be perfect.

Heart Beachy pressed a hand to the glass pane and dreamed about doing such things. If she had an outing planned with a handsome suitor, she’d make a new dress for it. Perhaps a cozy wool dress in a deep shade of cranberry. Her mother used to say that shades of red complemented Heart’s blue eyes and blond hair nicely.

“Nee, Mamm didn’t say that,” Heart murmured out loud. What she actually said was, “Hazel, I do like you in red. It sets off your beautiful blue eyes.”

Remembering how much she’d love to hear her mother’s sweet words, Heart smiled. Her mother always had encouraging words of praise for her only child.

On the heels of that good memory was a far less appealing one. It never failed to make her cringe, but Heart forced herself to remember it as well. Because instead of hugging her mamm for making her feel special and good, all she’d ever done was scowl and state that she hated her name and wanted to be called “Heart” instead.

Though her words had been true—after all, who really wanted to be named Hazel?—Heart wished she’d held her tongue. Ack, but she’d been such a spoiled child. Such a willful little girl. It was no wonder that at least two afternoons a week Mamm would send Heart out to go “help” her daed in his blacksmith workshop.

The barn had been hot and filled with dangerous things, but her father had never seemed to mind her being with him. He’d given her a little chair in the corner and small tasks to do.

Looking around the kitchen that was exactly the way her mother had originally organized it twenty-five years ago, she felt the same sense of loss she always did around this time of year.

Her mother had died on November 30, four years ago. Mamm, so sweet and pretty and bright, had died just weeks after contracting the flu. No doctor could give a reason why her mother hadn’t survived.... She just hadn’t.

All Heart knew was that Katie Beachy’s passing had left a hole in the house that neither her husband nor her daughter had been able to fill.

Not that either of them had ever tried.

Heart knew that if she had just one more day with her mother, she’d be so happy. She’d tell her just how much she loved her. How grateful she was to have such a sweet and loving mamm.

But, of course, wishes and dreams were for other folks. It seemed that so much of what she’d asked for never was going to come true. Maybe the Lord had decided that she already had enough for any young woman.

Before her dark thoughts descended deeper, the back door just off the kitchen opened with a rough clack.

“Heart, you have dinner on the table yet?” Daed called out as he bypassed the stationary tub next to the door and tromped into the kitchen.

She felt like pointing to the kitchen clock above the door. She served her father’s midday meal at eleven o’clock sharp every day. Always. Her father had come in too early. “Not yet. I’ll have it out soon.”

“When?”

She rolled her eyes. “In seven minutes, Daed. When it’s eleven.”

He scowled. “It ain’t ready early?”

“Nope.”

“Heart.” Her father had a deep, almost scratchy voice. That voice, combined with the fact that he was over six feet tall and a very muscular 250 pounds, made him an imposing presence.

She’d seen some men almost cower when he asked them a direct question. Actually, most people tended to give him a wide berth. He might be a very good blacksmith and a rather famous welder, but he wasn’t much for company.

She, on the other hand, was well used to the way he barked questions and glowered at his surroundings. He wasn’t a mean man. Not at all. It was more like the Lord had given him so many gifts working with hot metals that He hadn’t seen the need to give Levi Beachy too many softer qualities.

She, like her mother, was well used to his bark.

“No sense in complaining, Daed. Your midday meal will be ready when it’s ready. And that will be at eleven.” When he started to complain, she added a bit cheekily, “Hold your horses.”

His eyebrows snapped together, but he didn’t erupt. Instead, he simply exhaled. “Fine. I’m gonna wash up.”

“Danke.” He turned and walked down the hall to the bathroom.

He always made that walk, even though the stationary tub was right next to the back door, and it contained his favorite scrubbing soap and fluffy hand towels. And there was a sink in the kitchen, too.

Nope, he always insisted on making that trek, all while keeping on his dirty boots. No matter how many times she’d asked him to remove them, he didn’t listen. Not even when she explained how dirty they got her freshly swept floor. Or how stained his hands made the pristine guest bathroom sink.

He’d always look mystified about why a messy floor should concern him.

Knowing that some things would never change, she pulled out two bowls and silverware. Then decided to switch things up a bit. Maybe for once she’d wait to eat until later. Maybe after she went for a walk or something.

Carefully she spooned a hearty portion of shepherd’s pie into his bowl. Ground beef mixed with fresh vegetables and thick gravy. The top layer of mashed potatoes was golden brown.

She’d just placed his dish on the table when her father returned.

His eyes lit up and he took his chair. “Ah, Heart. You do have a way with meat and potatoes.”

This was high praise from her father, but as compliments went, it left a lot to be desired. “Danke, Daed.”

After placing his napkin in his lap—Mamm had trained her father well in the basics of table manners—he looked at the empty space in front of her. “Where is your food?”

“I decided to wait to eat.”

A line formed between his brows. “Why?”

“I’m not too hungry. Besides, the temperature isn’t too cold today. I was thinking that I might go on a walk.”

“Good thinking. It’s nice to get out of the house.”

After her father bowed his head in silent prayer, he dug in.

Heart sipped her water and mentally planned out the rest of her day. Most of the supper preparations were done, so after she returned from her walk, she could relax in the living room and maybe even work on a sewing project. Or begin work on her father’s Christmas cards. He sent each of his clients a card. Well, she did. There were almost two hundred of those to address.

Several minutes passed before he spoke again. “Where are you going to walk to?”

“I’m not sure.”

His gaze settled on hers. “You planning on visiting some of the neighbors?”

“Maybe.” She hadn’t really planned to visit anyone, but it was an idea.

“Mary Miller ain’t far. Maybe you could check on her. She’s got puppies, I heard.”

Heart enjoyed Mary’s company. She was easy to be around and usually in a good mood. Puppies were an added bonus. “I hadn’t heard about the pups. I’ll definitely have to go see them. Did her golden have the litter?”

He nodded. His blue eyes—the one thing she’d inherited from him—brightened. “I don’t know anyone whose day wouldn’t be made better by visiting a mess of golden retriever pups.”

She smiled back at him. “You are right about that.”

“Since you’ve been thinking about getting some work pet-sitting, you ought to stop by and see them. Maybe offer to give Mary a hand.” He took another bite. “If you have time, that is.”

Mary Miller’s husband had passed away when Heart was just a child. To everyone’s surprise, she’d never remarried. Instead, she seemed to enjoy her job, which was helping to care for elderly and ailing folks around the area. She usually brought her golden retriever with her and stayed in homes for weeks until her patient recovered or passed on to Heaven.

She’d helped Heart’s mamm years ago as well. Knowing her father had a soft spot for Mary, Heart nodded. “I can make time to help Mary. Danke for the idea, Daed.”

“It was nothing. Just be home by three o’clock.”

“Why?”

“Someone’s coming over who I want you to meet.”

This conversation was getting curiouser and curiouser. Her father did blacksmithing and ironworks for lots of people, but none of them were of much interest to Heart. Actually, Daed seemed to prefer that his customers stay away from her. “Who’s coming over?” she asked.

Her father looked almost smug. “You’ll see. Just be home by three.” Looking around the kitchen, he added, “And maybe you could make some of your monster cookies?”

He sounded so hopeful, she hid a smile. Her father might be several inches over six feet and built like a linebacker on a football team, but he had a soft spot for her special oversized cookies. He had no idea that making them took no time at all.

“Jah, Daed. I’ll be happy to make those.”

“Gut.” He scooted back his chair and strode to the door. It slammed behind him. Leaving behind a trail of dirt.

The right thing to do would be to eat her meal, sweep the floor, make the cookies, and wash the dishes. But she needed a break and wanted to enjoy at least an hour outside before she returned to all her chores.

Pleased with her decision, Heart covered the pie with some waxed paper, set it in the fridge, and walked out the door. She might be a twenty-five-year-old spinster, but she wasn’t without a backbone.

“Heart! What a nice surprise,” Mary Miller exclaimed when she opened her door. “What brings you here today?”

“My father mentioned that you had a litter of new puppies. I wondered if I could see them?”

Mary’s face turned into a wreath of smiles. “Yes, indeed. They’re tiny now and still have their eyes closed, but Virginia knows you,” she added over her shoulder as she led the way to the living room. “She won’t mind you visiting.”

“How many pups did she have?”

“Five!” Mary’s dark brown eyes fairly glowed with happiness.

“Five puppies! That’s wonderful-gut.”

“Virginia is tired, but pleased, I think.”

Crouching down to the large wooden box with a blanket for Virginia and shredded paper for the pups, Heart gasped. As puppies were wont to do, they were piled all on top of each other and fast asleep. “Oh, Mary. They are adorable.”

“Indeed they are. A litter of puppies is surely one of God’s sweetest blessings.” Reaching down, Mary gently rubbed the mother dog’s head. “You did a good job, Virginia. It’s a family to be proud of.”

The hund thumped her tail twice, just as several puppies woke from their slumber, squeaked, and then started rooting for sustenance.

Heart sighed. “They truly are miracles, ain’t so?”

“To be sure. You’ll have to come back often to see how they grow. Before you know it, they’ll be scampering everywhere and causing trouble!”

“Jah, but they’ll be so cute, I doubt you’ll mind. Are you going to keep any of them?”

“I’m afraid not. The puppies will bring me a good price. The money will be a nice addition to my savings account.”

“I understand.”

Heart stayed a few more minutes, but knew it was time to go home. She was getting hungry, plus there were treats to make before her father’s mysterious guest arrived.

Just as she was about to leave, she caught sight of a cage in the corner. “What’s that?”

“Hmm? Oh, that’s Spike.”

Heart walked closer and was startled to realize it was a pure white, rather stout rat. “Mary, why do you have a rat in your living room? And why does it have a name?”

“Well, the last woman I cared for passed away suddenly. She’d been a teacher or some such. This was her class’s pet rat.”

“I see.” Of course, she didn’t see at all.

Obviously reading her mind, Mary chuckled. “Spike isn’t a sewer rat; he’s a domesticated one.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“Oh, jah. Rats are popular pets. He’s smart, cuddly, and a good companion. When I realized what her awful family planned to do to him—which was chop off his head—I couldn’t let him stay.”

Though Heart had never thought about keeping a rodent as a pet, she sure didn’t like that idea, either. “That’s horrible.”

“What was sad was the inhumane way they were going to dispose of him.” Her voice lowered. “He’d never done a thing to them, either. I was so upset, I took him home.”

“Good for you.” Unable to help herself, she shivered. “Poor thing.”

“He’s a gut pet, for sure and for certain. Spike knows his name, and when I let him out of the cage, he never goes far. Most of the time he simply crawls onto my lap while I read. He really is a sweetheart.” Mary sighed. “The only problem is that I don’t know what I’m going to do with him now.”

“You don’t want a pet rat?”

“I’m going to watch another patient starting on Monday. When I broached the subject of maybe bringing Spike and keeping him in his cage in my room, everyone in my patient’s family had a fit. Why, one of the man’s daughters said that he likely carried rabies.”

Heart knew next to nothing about pet rats, but the daughter’s words did seem rather harsh. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. That conversation just happened this morning. My neighbor has offered to watch Virginia and the pups for a few days, but he won’t have the rat.”

Heart took a longer look at Spike. He stared back. A lump formed in her throat. The little rat was studying her, almost with a look of longing. He needed a home.

She certainly had that.

“I’ll take him,” she blurted.

Mary turned away from the rodent and gaped at her. “What?”

“I’ll give Spike a home. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Are you sure you want him?”

“Absolutely.”

“But what about your father? I mean, won’t Levi be upset?”

Heart was surprised that Mary knew her father’s first name. But that was silly. Of course, she did. Apple Creek was a small community, and both of their families had lived there for some time.

Hoping she sounded more confident than she actually was, she said, “Mei father won’t be upset at all. I’ll keep Spike in my room. Plus, Daed is usually out in his workshop. He’ll probably forget that there’s even a rat living in our house.” At least she hoped that was the case. Leaning down a bit, she carefully stuck a finger through the cage and gave Spike a tiny pet.

Mary clasped her hands together. “Heart, if you could give this rat a good home, I’d be so grateful.”

“Consider it done. Ah, what does Spike eat?”

Hurrying over to a cabinet in her kitchen, Mary pulled out a plastic container. “Here’s all of Spike’s things. He loves his chew toys, and the roll of paper towels is so he can make a cozy nest.” As she put all the items into a canvas bag, she added, “Rats are mighty clean, so be sure to change the shredded paper every week. Make sure his water bottle has fresh water, too. Now, to eat, he likes rat pellets and fresh fruit and vegetables.” Smiling at the little creature, Mary softened her voice. “He especially loves strawberries.”

“Spike loves strawberries?” She never would’ve guessed that.

“He enjoys being held and cuddling on your lap, too. But it might take a while for him to warm up to you enough to do that.”

Spike was beginning to sound far more personable—and harder to keep hidden—than she’d realized. “Okay.”

Mary chuckled. “If you have questions, you know where to come. I’ll help you as much as I can.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Thinking of her chores and that Spike was going to need to be cared for a bit, she stood up. “I think I should probably get on my way now.”

It could’ve been her imagination, but Mary looked rather eager for Heart to be on her way. “There’s a handle at the top of his cage. It’s not heavy.”

Next thing Heart knew, she was headed back home with a canvas bag on her shoulder and a rat cage in her arms. She was already regretting her decision, but consoled herself that a future pet-sitter needed to have at least one pet at home.

“I hope we’ll become fast friends, Spike,” she muttered. “I also hope and pray that you’ll be easy to take care of.”

Unfortunately, the rat didn’t squea. . .