An Amish Second Chance Romance

Book 8: Surprised by Love

by Rachel J. Good

Genres: Amish & Mennonite; Contemporary Christian; Christian Romance

Synopsis

From stunning handmade crafts to fresh-picked produce and mouthwatering baked goods, Lancaster, Pennsylvania’s Green Valley Farmers Market offers sweet surprises every day—including the chance to make new friends, find community—and even discover a forever kind of happiness . . .

Cathy Zehr prides herself on her skilled donut-making—and on her plain speaking. After all, talking about others’ failings is only telling the honest truth—and it might prevent others from making the same mistakes. But gossiping has made her an alt maidel—someone never courted to be a wife. And she’s finally at a loss for more than words when she must care for her ailing brother's young sons. To find out what not to do, she turns to reserved woodworker Myron King, a bachelor who raised his orphaned niece and nephew. His advice proves invaluable—plus, Cathy discovers they have much in common. Yet she fears their growing closeness will never overcome her deep trauma—much less lead to love . . .

Myron is taken aback by Cathy’s request—yet he’s also intrigued. Perhaps confessing his parenting regrets will ease some of his guilt. Still, he’s surprised when Cathy truly listens to him, even softening her blunt manner. Myron is even more surprised by his growing attraction to her—despite his fears about risking heartbreak again. But when their deepest secrets suddenly collide, can faith, forgiveness, and courage unite their longing hearts?
 

Release date: July 29, 2025

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Myron King awoke with a jolt, his whole body on alert. Something was off. He jumped out of bed. Tim. He had to check on Tim.

Every muscle in his body ached. Like most nights, he’d waited up until the wee hours of the morning for his nephew to come in, and he’d fallen asleep on the couch in an awkward position. As he stretched out the kinks in his arms and back after waking, he still didn’t know if Tim had made it home.

With a sigh, Myron tiptoed down the hall and opened his nephew’s door a crack, hoping it wouldn’t squeak. Tim hated his uncle checking up on him, but Myron couldn’t go to work without making sure his nephew had returned safely.

That huge lump under the sheet might be Tim. The musky, sickening-sweet odor hanging in the air made Myron’s eyes water and his stomach turn. Tim had been out with his Englisch friends. The ones who did drugs.

Although the smell provided a clue Tim was sleeping in his bed, Myron waited to be sure his nephew’s chest rose and fell. Too many times, Tim had fooled Myron with pillows under his covers. A small snore reassured Myron his nephew lay under the heap of tangled bedcovers. Myron eased the door shut.

No time for coffee or breakfast. He’d overslept, so he had to rush to work. He made it to his shop with only minutes to spare. The leather strap of bells jingled when he flipped the door sign to open. Usually he loved walking around the showroom, inspecting the items for sale, proud of his handiwork. That day, though, his woodworking shop, which had always been his refuge, now seemed like a prison.

He wanted to be home to keep an eye on Tim. Instead of starting on one of his orders, Myron paced back and forth. What was he going to do about his nephew? Now that an electrical fire at the factory had put Tim out of work for weeks, his nephew had gone even more wild than usual.

Myron’s two young apprentices, Lloyd and Jed, slipped in the rear employee entrance a few minutes later. The aroma of coffee made Myron’s stomach growl. A bag crinkled. His workers must have stopped for fast food on their way in.

Jed popped his head around the doorway of the workshop behind the showroom. He held up a small paper-wrapped English muffin. “Want coffee and a breakfast sandwich? We got extra.”

Myron nodded and joined them in the back. When he wrapped his hand around the coffee cup, his whole body filled with gratitude. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Jah, we did. We don’t want to deal with a grumpy boss all day.” Lloyd flashed Myron a teasing smile.

“So that’s what you think of me?” Myron pretended to be annoyed, but his employees were right. If he didn’t eat, he acted out of sorts all day. He gave Lloyd and Jed a rueful smile. “Guess you know me too well. Danke for this.” He unwrapped the bacon and egg sandwich. “Lunch is my treat today.”

Jed perked up. “That sounds fair.” He eyed Myron with concern. “Not sure if I should tell you this, but my sister Katie was coming home from her late shift last night, and she saw Tim in our neighbor’s barn.” Jed lowered his gaze. “They were . . .”

At his hesitation, Myron finished the sentence. “Doing drugs?”

“Jah.” Jed squirmed. “I thought maybe you’d waited up for him and wouldn’t get much sleep, so you probably didn’t have time to eat this morning.”

How had Myron ended up with such kind and thoughtful employees when he was a grouch most days? He tried not to bring his family problems to work, but he must not have succeeded.

“I’m sorry if I take things out on you.”

Lloyd’s lips curved into an understanding smile. “We understand. All of us are worried about Tim too.”

“We’re praying for him. And you.” Jed stood and crumpled his wrapper. “Guess we’d better get to work, huh?”

“That’s what I’m paying you for.” Myron tried to sound stern, but his grin gave him away.

If only Tim had agreed to work here, maybe Myron would be bantering with his nephew like this. He shook his head. He was dreaming. Tim had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the business or with Myron. Everything Myron asked of Tim, every rule Myron set, Tim broke it on purpose. And he made sure Myron knew of his defiance.

Shoving those painful thoughts aside, Myron threw himself into sanding the chest he had to finish by tomorrow. The rhythmic movements across the maple surface brought peace to his troubled mind. The comforting wood scent and the dainty curving lines filled him with satisfaction. He excelled in craftmanship. God had given him a talent, and he used it for the Lord’s glory. If only that competency extended to his parenting skills.

Time after time, Myron vowed to be a better father figure, but Tim’s misbehavior fueled Myron’s anger and propelled arguments and hurtful words. Deep inside, Myron blamed himself for Tim’s rebelliousness. Myron had been young, single, and inexperienced when he’d taken on the care of his orphaned nephew and niece. It’s all my fault. I didn’t know how to raise children.

He threw himself into his work to forget, but when they stopped for lunch, all the pain and guilt flooded back. Myron couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do something.

After his apprentices finished the pizza Myron ordered for lunch, he retreated to his office with two cold leftover slices. He set a hand on his business phone. Two o’clock. His brother would have a few hours before the afternoon milking on his dairy farm. Myron wished they lived closer so he could stop by and talk to Hank in person.

He dialed his brother’s business phone and prayed someone would answer. Relief flooded through him when Abe picked up.

“Guten tag, Myron.”

His nephew’s cheerful greeting lifted Myron’s spirits. Why couldn’t Tim be more like Abe? Obedient, thoughtful, hardworking, kind? Abe was only a few years older than Tim, but he acted much more mature.

“Could I talk to your daed?”

“Sure. I’ll go get him. Be right back.” The receiver clunked onto a counter.

Soon, Hank’s confident voice vibrated through the phone line. “Myron? What’s going on?”

When he was young, Myron had always counted on his older brother to help when he got into trouble. That hadn’t changed since they’d become adults. Whenever Myron had a problem, he appreciated talking it over and hearing Hank’s wise advice.

“I hate to ask for another favor since Abe only left here three weeks ago, but the factory where Tim works burned down, so he has too much free time. He’s getting into trouble.”

“Drugs again?”

How did Hank always seem to know the problem before Myron told him? “Jah. And staying out most of the night. Now that he doesn’t have to report to a job, he’s gotten even more wild and disobedient.”

Hank exhaled a long sigh. “Abe and I’ll be praying.”

“Danke. I’m doing the same, but I hoped—” Myron swallowed hard. It was a lot to expect, but whenever Abe came to visit, Tim calmed down and semi-followed the rules. Myron desperately needed to rein in Tim’s rebelliousness.

Again, Hank sensed the request before Myron managed to put it into words. “I wish I could send Abe, but all my other children as well as my neighbors are busy in the fields. I have nobody to take Abe’s place.”

Myron had known it was too much to ask. “I understand.” He sighed heavily.

“You think we could talk Tim into coming up here?” Hank asked. “We could use an extra hand.”

“I don’t know.” Myron doubted Tim would leave his friends and illegal activities to go to New York State to milk cows.

“Tell you what—why don’t I have Abe call Tim and talk him into it? Abe has Tim’s cell number.”

Myron grimaced. Despite his objections, one of Tim’s first purchases after he started his factory job had been that phone. He carried it everywhere.

“You there?” Hank asked with concern.

“Jah. Maybe Abe can convince Tim to visit. It’s worth a try.”

“Meanwhile, we’ll all be praying.”

Hank’s words echoed in Myron’s ears after he hung up. He’d been begging God for years to work in Tim’s heart, but lately Myron despaired of ever receiving an answer.

Myron still couldn’t believe Tim had agreed, but Abe must have said something to convince his cousin. Tim had gone willingly, if not cheerfully. Or maybe he had been happy about visiting Fort Plain, but refused to let Myron know. Even Tim’s last comments before leaving had been cutting and sarcastic.

A few days later, Myron rolled out of bed feeling edgy and headed to check on Tim out of habit. Halfway down the hall, the truth kicked in. Tim wasn’t here. He’d gone to Fort Plain, New York. Myron sagged in relief. If his brother Hank wasn’t kidding, Tim was getting up at four every morning to milk cows.

Myron shook his head in disbelief. After all the trouble he’d had with Tim, he couldn’t believe his rebellious nephew would willingly rise early and do physical work. Here in Lancaster, Tim complained if Myron asked him to take out the trash.

It still didn’t seem real that the daily clashes and heartache had ended—at least temporarily. Myron had no idea when Tim would return, but he’d be in New York for a while longer. Still, Myron couldn’t shake off the past. He and Tim had butted heads for so long, Myron woke every day expecting to fight and scold and lecture. It might be a long time before he could accept Tim was gone and relax.

Despite his relief over Tim being in New York, Myron discovered that life without his nephew could be lonely.

Loud knocking on the front door jerked Cathy Zehr from a deep sleep. She rolled over and squinted at her alarm clock. Nine thirty? She’d gotten into bed and fallen asleep an hour ago so she could get up at four to make donuts for her market stand.

The pounding continued. Cathy dragged herself out of bed. “I’m coming,” she yelled.

Grumbling, she pulled on a robe and hurried downstairs. Who’d be here at this time of night? This better not be a prank. If it was, she’d give those teens a piece of her mind.

Everyone in the neighborhood knew she went to sleep early. Some of the Englisch kids took advantage of that to egg or toilet paper her house. Whenever she caught the culprits, she gave them a tongue-lashing and reported them to their parents, hoping they’d get a fitting punishment. Now they all glared at her sullenly whenever they saw her. Hmph. Served them right.

Annoyed, she yanked the door open a crack, but she peeked warily from behind it to hide her nightclothes and to be sure her face wasn’t a target for a rotten tomato or an egg. You couldn’t trust those kids any farther than you could throw them.

“Cathy?” Barb Smucker from next door held out a cell phone. “Your nephew’s on the phone.”

Frowning, Cathy stared at the offending device, reluctant to touch it. She’d never understood why other Amish families used such worldly things.

“Can’t you take a message?” Her clipped words expressed her annoyance at being woken and her disapproval of Englisch tools.

“He wants to talk to you.”

Barb never lost her perpetual smile. An I-love-everyone-in-the-world smile that grated on Cathy’s nerves. Her neighbor acted like nothing ever went wrong. Maybe for her, nothing ever did.

Cathy ground her teeth. Changing places with me might wipe that cheery expression off your face.

“It’s an emergency.” Barb stuck her hand through the thin gap between the door and the jamb.

“Why didn’t you say so?” Cathy snatched the phone from Barb’s hand. “Wayne?” She didn’t have to wonder which nephew. None of her other nieces or nephews kept in touch with her.

“Aenti?”

His somber tone scared Cathy. The last time he had sounded like this, his wife had died. She gripped the phone tighter, praying she didn’t accidentally push one of those buttons and cut him off. “Is one of the boys hurt?” Or, heaven forbid, dead?

She didn’t want to put that awful thought into words. Her nephew and his two sons were the only kin who visited her, sent her holiday cards, and seemed to care about her.

Through his ragged breathing, Wayne choked out, “Not the boys. Me. I have cancer.”

Cancer? Cathy squeezed the plastic so hard every ridge pressed into her palm.

“It’s stage four. I’m going to Mexico for treatment.”

“Oh, Wayne, no.” Many Amish people chose Mexico. Prices were cheaper, and they could get treatments not approved in the United States. But Cathy didn’t agree with going out of the country. Another thought struck her. “What about the boys?”

“That’s why I’m calling. W-would you watch them while I’m gone?”

“Me?” Her voice squeaked. She knew nothing about raising children.

“I don’t have anyone else.”

Wayne’s admission tore at Cathy’s heart. Like her, he’d been estranged from the rest of the family for years. Of all her relatives, he was the only one who’d supported her when she broke from her family and fled from New Wilmington to Lancaster to live on her own. He’d been much younger than she was, but he had a wisdom beyond his years. Now he needed her help. How could she deny him?

“Are you there?” Wayne asked, his voice thick with tears.

“I’m here.” She’d always be here for him. “I’ll do whatever you need.”

“Danke, danke. I’m leaving in two weeks. I’ll send the boys with a driver I trust. I can’t tell you how much—” His voice broke.

Two weeks? She had only two weeks to prepare? How would she ever get ready? She was terrible with kids. All the little ones in the community avoided her. Her gruff tone scared them off. Cathy preferred that. She was not fond of sticky fingers, runny noses, whiny pleas. The thought of that curdled her stomach.

These were her grandnephews, though. She didn’t want them to go to strangers. But couldn’t someone in his g’may care for them?

Before she could voice her question, Wayne said a shaky goodbye. “I know you need your sleep. Sorry for waking you.” And he hung up.

Cathy stared at the phone in her hand. She still had so many questions, so much she wanted to say.

“Is everything all right?” Concern in her soft, caring eyes, Barb studied Cathy.

“No.” Cathy thrust the phone at Barb.

She didn’t want to share Wayne’s news with anyone. Especially not someone like Barb, who would try to find the silver lining. As far as Cathy could see, this situation had no positive side. It was a tragedy.

Barb took the phone. “I’m sorry. I’ll be praying.”

Cathy grunted something she hoped sounded like danke before she shut the door. Her sleep totally disrupted, she sank onto the living room couch, fretting over all the things that could go wrong.

Standing in the back of her Dough-Re-Mi donut stand at the Green Valley Farmer’s Market, Cathy flipped over a batch of donuts in the fryer. Normally, she ran out of glazed donuts first, but this morning, she’d had a run on lemon and blueberry cake donuts. She hadn’t made enough of either of those flavors. Most customers didn’t buy as many donuts on hot summer days. Today had been an exception.

It didn’t help that she’d overcooked two batches. She’d been struggling to keep her mind on her work. She hadn’t even had enough energy to warn other people about trouble. Some people called it gossip, but Cathy had made it her mission to tell people things she’d seen that might affect their lives or relationships. At the moment, though, she’d been too consumed by her own problems.

Ever since her nephew’s phone call, she’d been gripped by fear. She had no idea how to care for children. David and John would be five and six by now. What did she know about boys that age? Only that they were noisy, dirty, and unruly. At least the ones she saw after church on Sundays seemed to be. And smelly, once they’d been running around and playing in the yard after church.

The last time they’d visited her, David and John had been three and four. They’d been with both their parents, who’d made sure they behaved. Still, her main memories included a few tantrums, crying at bedtime, spilled food, and toys strewn everywhere. Oh, and sticky faces, sticky hands, and—ACH!—sticky kisses.

She drained the donuts and set them on the cooling rack. When she turned around, she spied a face she hadn’t expected to see. What was Abe King doing here at the market? Odd that his cousin Tim wasn’t with him.

Actually, she hadn’t seen Tim around for a while now. He often came to bother Caroline at Hartzler’s Chicken Barbecue. He was sweet on her, but anyone could tell she had eyes only for that handsome auctioneer. Cathy had spent a lot of time trying to dig up dirt on Noah because she didn’t want Caroline to get burned.

But where was Tim today? He couldn’t be at work, because the factory had burned. Cathy hoped he wasn’t out doing drugs with his troublemaking Englisch friends.

Usually, when Abe visited, the two cousins went everywhere together. It was unusual for Abe to be back here so soon. He’d left for his home in Fort Plain about three weeks ago. If Cathy weren’t so upset about her own worries, she’d be able to pinpoint the exact date he’d left. He must be here to see Anna Mary Zook. That meant the two of them were getting serious.

With no customers lined up at her stand, Cathy slipped into the aisle to follow Abe. She couldn’t wait to see his meeting with Anna Mary. That would tell her a lot about the state of their relationship. But Cathy ended up as disappointed as Abe.

Although he stared longingly in Anna Mary’s direction, his girlfriend was too busy to notice him. He couldn’t even get close enough to attract her attention.

Why was Hartzler’s Chicken Barbecue doing so well when business at Cathy’s stand had slowed just now?

She’d had her usual crowds when she first opened. Perhaps some of these Hartzler customers would head to her stand for dessert. She had to get back so she wouldn’t miss them.

But Abe looked dejected. She should talk to him and find out why he was here in Lancaster. Then a brilliant idea popped into her head.

She scurried over and gripped Abe’s arm. He tried to jerk away, but she held firm. “Come with me,” she commanded. “I have something for you.”

Despite his reluctance, she pulled him past the quilt stand and into the small niche beyond it, where her tiny donut stand was tucked.

Abe studied her wooden sign decorated with musical notes, Dough-Re-Mi, that hung above her small glass case filled with donuts.

Because he seemed puzzled, she explained, “I love to sing, so . . .”

He nodded, and his smile indicated he thought the sign was clever. But from the way his eyes darted around, he obviously couldn’t wait to escape.

“Could you take something to your onkel for me?” Cathy tried to keep the pleading tone from her voice, but she wasn’t quite successful. She didn’t want him to think she was needy. Even if she was.

“Myron?” He appeared confused.

What a foolish question. “Do you have any others?” she asked tartly. She knew for a fact Myron and Tim were his only relatives around here. He surely didn’t think she’d be giving him something for any onkels in Fort Plain she’d never met.

She motioned for him to wait while she filled a box with a dozen donuts. Then she jotted a quick note, slid it into an envelope, and taped on the box top.

Maybe she didn’t need to give Abe an explanation for giving his uncle an unexpected treat, but she didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. “I need him to do something for me. I hope this might sweeten him up.”

Lord, please help Myron to say jah.

Abe glanced at her askance when he thought she wasn’t looking, and he appeared reluctant to take the box. She thrust it into his hands. Sometimes you had to push other people to do what you wanted.

He turned and rushed from the stand as if he couldn’t wait to put a huge distance between them. A lot of people scurried away from her like that. Cathy sighed. Not everyone appreciated her helpful information or her avid interest in their lives.

“Danke,” she called after Abe as he wove his way through the crowd. He’d probably head back to Hartzler’s, but for once, she didn’t have the urge to follow him and spy on him and Anna Mary. She had more pressing concerns on her mind.

Scorching July sunshine rose in shimmers from the asphalt as Myron King drove the last few miles home and pulled into his gravel driveway. He mopped his brow with a rag while he unhitched his buggy. Then he rubbed down his horse and fed both horses. After a busy day at his woodworking shop, Myron dragged himself into the house.

With one hand on the doorknob, he hesitated to enter the empty house. He hadn’t realized how lonely he’d be now that Tim had gone to New York State to help Hank in the dairy business. As much as Tim frustrated Myron, his nephew’s absence ached like the emptiness of the gap from a missing tooth. You were grateful to be rid of the painful tooth, but the hole left behind felt deeper than a canyon.

Hank had surprised Myron by asking to send Abe to Pennsylvania shortly after Tim arrived. Evidently, Tim had taken to milking right away. His nephew remembered his early childhood visits to Fort Plain every summer before his daed had died and he’d moved in with Myron. Hank assured Myron that Tim set right to work each day. Myron could hardly believe they were talking about the same teen.

Abe was supposed to arrive today, but most likely, he’d spend all his time with his girlfriend. Not that Myron blamed him. But it’d still leave him with an empty house except when Abe came back here to sleep. By that time, Myron would be in bed.

With a sigh, Myron opened the kitchen door and did a double take. Abe stood by the stove, and two bowls sat on the table. “You’re eating here?”

At his obvious pleasure, Abe looked guilty. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around much last time I was here.”

“Didn’t expect you to be. You’re here for a reason, and that reason’s over there.” Myron waved a hand in the direction of Anna Mary’s house.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. That maedel should have all your attention. It’s only right and fair.”

Myron stepped closer to the pot Abe was stirring. Bits of celery and carrot floated to the surface of the broth, scenting the air with chicken. Egg noodles swirled around the spoon, along with chunks of meat. A lump blocked Myron’s throat, and his eyes stung. He turned quickly and pulled out a chair before Abe noticed.

“I want to be with you too,” Abe said as he turned off the flame under the chicken corn soup.

“I’m honored.” His throat tight, Myron’s voice came out husky.

Abe ladled the soup into the bowls and set sandwiches on their plates. Then he sank into his usual chair, and they bowed their heads.

Myron took a moment to compose himself before he prayed. Being so sentimental over a pot of soup and friendly company seemed ridiculous. Shaking off the emotion, he prayed fervently and added a petition that God would touch Tim’s heart.

When Myron lifted his head, he was surprised by Abe’s defeated expression. “What’s the matter? You look so glum.” He hoped his nephew and Anna Mary hadn’t had an argument. Myron knew the pain of that firsthand. And for Abe to break up when he was so far from home would be even more agonizing.

Abe swallowed hard. “Daed fell for Anna Mary’s mamm, Esther, when the family came to visit us in Fort Plain. They spent so much time together and seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Daed proposed to Esther before they left.”

Myron nodded. “Your daed told me he planned to do that. He didn’t mention a word about it afterward, so I figured it must not have gone well.”

“You’re right. While Esther visited, Daed was happier than I’ve ever seen him since Mamm passed. But Esther has cold feet. She’s lost two husbands. Anna Mary says her mother fears marrying again and losing a third.”

Rubbing his chin, Myron stared at the table. “I understand how she feels.” He cleared his throat. “Guess I’m not the best person to give advice on this, because I’ve done the same. Shut myself off from pain. When you do that, you wall yourself off from all love.”

If anyone would know about that, it’d be him. After his fiancée had died, he’d never dated anyone. Not for the past twenty-five years. Once your heart has been broken, it’s hard to love again. And in his case, he’d also had to live with guilt. He’d never told anyone. . .