Happily Ever Amish

Book 1: Amish of Apple Creek

by Shelley Shepard Gray

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

Synopsis

Combining the appeal of a small-town Amish setting and favorite romance tropes, New York Times bestselling author Shelley Shepard Gray—one of the most beloved voices in inspirational romance—presents the first in a heart-warming new series perfect for fans of Beverly Lewis, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Charlotte Hubbard.
 
Addie Byler may be Apple Creek’s resident wallflower, but she knows she has a lot to offer—and much to be grateful for. Raised by her loving grandmother, she lives a life filled with good friends and hard work. Wary of romance, Addie assumes no man will look beyond her glasses and her tendency to talk to her rescue donkey, Snickers—until the day she finds a note from a secret admirer. A prank, most likely. But then, a second note arrives . . .
 
It’s not that Daniel Miller doesn’t like Addie, he just doesn’t want to court her. She’s too willful, too chatty, too odd. Yet when he learns she’s been teased because she’s never had a beau, he decides to send a little note of encouragement. One note leads to another. And when Addie begins replying with thoughtful messages of her own, he’s struck by her sweetness and warmth.
 
As chilly winter melts into spring, what began as a gesture of sympathy becomes something much deeper. Daniel fears revealing the truth, but with courage, faith—and a helping hand from their close-knit community—Apple Creek’s most unlikely couple may find their path to happiness . . .
 

Release date: October 25, 2022

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

Daniel Miller was bored. It made no sense. Not really. It was Saturday night, there was no church in the morning, and he was standing with a group of longtime friends in the Troyers’ backyard. Furthermore, he was holding a mug of hot chocolate, there was a bonfire keeping everyone warm and comfortable, and the sky was clear.

So, it was a good night. A nearly perfect one, really. However, he’d recently learned that valid reasons didn’t always matter when feelings were involved. When all was said and done, strong emotions overruled most everything.

Or, in his case, the nagging sense of restlessness he couldn’t seem to banish.

Looking around at the almost one hundred people listening to the laughter and stories that were being told, Daniel knew he should be entertained.

He wasn’t, though. Not by a long shot. The fact of the matter was that Aaron and June’s engagement party was a carbon copy of practically every other engagement party he’d been to before.

And Daniel had been to a lot of them in his twenty years of living.

As his best friend Roman started telling everyone a complicated story of mishaps that had happened during the last corn harvest, Daniel tuned him out. While the story was amusing, he’d heard it before. Instead, he scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces.

Scanning crowds was an unfortunate habit he’d developed of late, an attempt to ease his restlessness and corral his interest. Oftentimes it was a rather successful activity. He’d usually spy someone new or a friend he hadn’t seen in years. Or he’d catch sight of an acquaintance who looked in need of attention. When that was the case, he’d jump at the chance to visit with him or her.

Unfortunately, at the moment, even with a hundred people surrounding him, he wasn’t finding anyone of interest.

As Roman’s voice rose, nearing his punch line, Daniel bit back a sigh. If he couldn’t find anyone else to chat with for a spell—well, then he wasn’t going to stay much longer. There was no reason to stand around with the same group of people and listen to the same stories that he’d already heard many, many times.

He liked his friends, but he could only take so much.

The winter evening might be mild, the multitude of lit candles might be very pretty, and the occasion might be joyous. . . but he’d rather be home. If he were, he could be sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He could be eating a grilled cheese sandwich next to his dog Bob. Bob was a mighty easy companion to be around.

His faithful dog was also probably watching out the window for him to return. Bob was a creature of habit and liked the house to be shut tight by nine, ten at the latest.

He really ought to be relieving Bob’s anxiety soon.

When everyone laughed and a couple of folks slapped Roman on the back, it was obvious the story was over.

Everyone began to move away, heading toward the hot chocolate. Daniel sighed in relief. He could go now without causing a fuss.

“Who are you staring at, Daniel?”

He blinked, identifying the speaker. It was Bradley Park, their Mennonite buddy who not only drove a car but also worked at an RV factory near Kidron. “Hmm? Oh, no one.”

“Come on. You were staring at something across the yard. What was it? Better yet, who was it?”

“I don’t know.” That was the truth. He might have been staring, but he’d been thinking about cheese sandwiches and Bob.

Still looking amused, Bradley grinned. “If you aren’t gonna tell me, I’m going to figure it out myself.”

“Bradley, there ain’t nothing to see. Actually, I think I’m gonna head out. . . .”

“Hold on.” Obviously his friend was feeling at loose ends, too, because he wouldn’t give up his silly search. His voice rose. “Let’s see now . . . I’m fairly sure you weren’t scowling at old Lester and his cronies or the half dozen kinner playing hopscotch next to the lanterns. Nooo . . . I’m thinking something more interesting caught your eye.”

Daniel felt like rolling his eyes. “Nothing caught my eye.”

“Sure it did. I’ve known you all my life, remember? You and I sat next to each other in sixth grade.”

“I haven’t forgotten that.” Or that Bradley never could name all the states and their capitals. Charleston, West Virginia, had always messed him up.

“Knowing you forever means I know when you’re thinking hard about something.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or someone.” Grinning, Bradley said, “I’m guessing you found someone you haven’t seen in a while. You always do that, you know . . . look for people who are unfamiliar or different.”

Daniel was flummoxed. Had he really been that obvious? Did people truly watch him watch crowds? “I wasn’t doing that.” Of course, that was a lie.

“Sure you were. No worries, though. We’re all used to it.”

“What are we used to?” asked Roman, another of his good friends. “What’s going on?”

“I’m trying to guess who Daniel was looking at tonight,” Bradley answered. “You know how he likes to watch people.”

“Bradley’s talking crazy. I wasn’t doing that.”

No one paid his words any mind. “If it’s a guessing game, I’ll play along,” redheaded Ruthie said. Sounding amused, she added, “Let’s see. I’m pretty sure Daniel wasn’t scowling at Aaron and June—he’s never that rude.”

Rude? “I’m not—”

She continued. “Hmm. The couple sitting next to the fire pit doesn’t look all that interesting either. What were their names again?”

“Eddie and Sylvia,” Roman supplied as he scanned the crowd. “And I don’t think Daniel was paying them any mind either.” He folded his arms over his chest. “My guess is that our gut friend here was staring at a woman.”

This conversation had gone from bad to worse to . . . to . . . he didn’t even know. “Everyone, halt. All I was doing was gazing off into the distance. That’s it. You know how I get tired at night. Speaking of which, I think Bob is looking for me.”

His protest was ignored. Ruthie scanned the area again, then smiled. “Ah ha. Daniel, I know exactly who you were looking at, and who can blame you? You were staring at Addie Holmes, weren’t ya?”

He had noticed Addie but wasn’t going to admit that. Addie was a sweet girl who had the unfortunate reputation of being something of an odd person. It was too bad.

She was odd, but there was nothing wrong with that—at least not in his book. At least she wasn’t boring.

Unfortunately, a lot of other people didn’t see things the same way. Mild panic began to form inside him. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to start talking about her. Addie had enough problems without being the focus of stupid conversations. “I was not looking at Addie Holmes.”

“Of course he wasn’t,” Bradley said. “I mean, does anyone really look at her anymore?”

“Don’t be mean,” Ruthie chided.

“I’m not being mean. All I did was state a fact. No one takes a second glance at a woman who’d rather speak to her donkey than any of us.”

Daniel reckoned he’d rather be speaking to a donkey instead of them as well. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Ruthie and her friend Mary Jo, who’d just joined them, exchanged glances. “That’s probably for the best, though I do feel sorry for her.”

“Why is that?” Daniel blurted.

“She’s had such a hard life already.”

Mary Jo nodded. “She’s the only person I’ve ever heard of whose parents didn’t want her.”

“I heard that rumor isn’t true.”

“Come on, Daniel,” Mary Jo chided. “Of course it’s true. Addie Holmes lives with her grandmother, and she hasn’t seen her parents in years. Not since they dropped her off in Apple Creek when she was four.” She lowered her voice. “Why, I bet if her parents came knocking on her door tomorrow, she probably wouldn’t even recognize them.”

“How do you know this?”

Ruthie shrugged. “We asked her about her parents when we were little.”

“You mean, back when you were her friend?” Daniel asked. When Ruthie’s eyes got big, he knew he should regret his pointed remark, but for the life of him, he could not. “You shouldn’t be sharing things like that.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s the truth, you know,” Mary Jo pointed out.

“It is, and you’re being hateful.”

“My word, Daniel. You don’t need to sound so judgmental.” Ruthie lifted her chin. “All we’re saying is that she’s had a number of tough breaks, and they began when her parents chose not to raise her.”

“Have her tough breaks ever ended?” Bradley asked. His voice was full of mirth.

“It’s doubtful. I’ve never heard of any man who took an interest in her,” Roman said. “Though that might be as much to do with her mommi as anything. Lovina Stutzman is formidable.”

“I really do feel sorry for Addie,” Mary Jo said. “After all, she’s the only girl I know who’s never had any boy show interest in her. Why, even back when we were in school and passing notes to each other, she never received a single one.”

“Maybe Addie did but she didn’t tell you,” Daniel said. Why he was continuing this conversation he didn’t know.

Mary Jo shook her head. “No, she didn’t. I know because we girls used to walk home together and share news about our secret admirers.” She lifted her chin. “We all used to get notes. Some of us even got them from you, Daniel.”

Remembering those days, those awkward, hormonal days when he was likely to be more fascinated by a girl’s smile than he was by a new chapter in their history books, his cheeks flushed.

Daniel crossed his arms in front of his chest. “That doesn’t mean much.”

“Daniel, not to correct you again, but I think you’re wrong,” Roman said. He rocked back on his heels. “Now, I personally don’t care if Addie has a suitor or not. All I’m saying is that even back when we were fifteen and sixteen and all went to Singings on Sundays, no boy ever showed interest in Addie.” He shrugged. “And who can blame them, really? She’s a foundling, she wears glasses, is too thin, and talks to donkeys. None of those are traits I want in a wife.”

“Roman does have a point,” Bradley said quietly. “Not to be mean, but it’s a fact that not everyone finds a match, right? You’re a good man, Daniel, but this is the first time I’ve ever heard you say much about her at all.”

“I never mentioned her in the first place!”

“See? Don’t you think that would be different if she’d ever, ever caught your eye?”

Daniel’s mouth went dry. As much as he hated to admit it, Bradley did have a point. He might not like everyone talking unkindly about Addie, but not everything they were saying was false.

The truth of the matter was that Addie simply didn’t fit in. Whether it was her looks or her circumstances or her odd interests, he didn’t know. But it certainly was sad.

Gazing across the way at her again, he realized that she was staring at his group. He was too far away to guess if she was looking at him and his friends with irritation, longing, or if she felt nothing at all. And maybe it didn’t even matter.

What did matter was that something needed to change.

Thinking of one of the men at work who’d only turned into a good worker after he’d been praised and then befriended by one of the other men, Daniel wondered if a bit of interest and kindness was what Addie needed. Maybe she simply needed someone to care enough about her to boost her confidence?

If that was the case, he knew he should walk right over and chat with her for a spell. But as soon as he imagined doing so, he froze. First of all, he doubted they’d have much to say to each other.

Secondly, if he did such a thing publicly, it would only cause more talk. That would be bad for her and him.

No, he needed to do something better. Something thoughtful but secret. Something that girls seemed to like but would not backfire on him . . . Something secret, but in a good way.

And that was when he knew what to do.

“I’m heading home,” he said.

Roman frowned. “Already? June and Aaron haven’t made their speech yet.”

“Let me know if they say something out of the ordinary. Bob’s waiting. Plus, I just realized that I’ve got something important to do.”

Daniel had a letter to write.

Looking out the kitchen window, Addie Holmes frowned. It might be Sunday morning and the start of the second week in March, but it sure looked the same as it had back in February. The sky was gray and overcast, and there was a blustery chill in the air. Snow flurries seemed likely.

March was such a tease. Everyone loved to talk about the approaching spring and their planned gardens, but sunny, warm days were weeks away yet.

Still exhausted from Aaron and June’s party, Addie took the time to enjoy two cups of coffee on her grandmother’s ancient couch in front of the fireplace. Yes, she did have a lot to do, but all those chores would have to wait. She needed a few moments to simply sit. It was a no-church Sunday. Their church district, like most every other Old Order Amish community, only gathered every other Sunday to worship.

Clad in her thick woolen tights and gray wool dress, she sipped her coffee, said her prayers, and tried to think more positively.

Unfortunately, all she seemed to be able to do was relive the awkward feelings she’d experienced during the party.

Yet again.

Not for the first time, Addie wished things were different. No, she wished she was different. For some reason she seemed to lack whatever was necessary to fit in with everyone her age in Apple Creek.

She’d certainly tried—but no matter what she said or did, it was met with derision. She was one of those square pegs attempting to fit into a round hole. No matter how hard she tried, her rough edges were never going to smooth out or go away. She might be nineteen years old, slim, and blond . . . but she was also a bit too thin and her facial features a bit too bold. Her glasses didn’t help, either.

Neither did her family history.

Most days Addie didn’t let it bother her, but this morning, remembering just how happy June and Aaron had looked together, she couldn’t ignore how far she was from their engaged bliss.

“You need to stop feeling so sorry for yourself, Addie,” she said out loud. “There’s nothing you can do about your eyesight—or your parents. You have a great many blessings. It’s time you started appreciating them.”

Taking another sip of coffee, she promised to do just that. Then, she threw an old blanket over her shoulders and headed outside to say hello to Snickers and gather eggs.

Heading into the warm barn, she found Snickers still half asleep. “Good morning, donkey,” she whispered.

Snickers opened one eye, then two . . . then seemed to yawn. Addie giggled as it took him a moment to get his bearings; at last the little donkey trotted to the front of the stall and stuck his head out.

She rubbed the dark forelock on the top of his head before kissing his nose lightly. “I’ll come back later to chat and give you breakfast.”

The snow she’d been dreading had just begun, and the fresh flakes dotted her glasses and chilled her cheeks as she left the barn. She picked up her pace and pulled open the door to the henhouse. “Gut matin!” she called out to the hens.

Unfortunately, the six hens seemed to realize she wasn’t at her best. They warily watched her every move with dark, beady eyes, clucking their annoyance when she moved each aside to gather eggs. “Sorry, ladies. I fear it is a hen’s lot in life to give up her eggs to the one who puts food in her stomach.”

Betty, the oldest hen, squawked.

It almost made Addie smile. After tossing out their corn and grain, she hurried back to the house, her old blanket doing little to shield her from the spitting snow or frigid temperature.

She’d just finished washing off the eggs, making biscuits, and frying bacon when her grandmother woke up, at eight o’clock.

Mentally preparing herself for the questions that were sure to come, Addie summoned a smile. “Gut matin, Mommi,” she called out when she heard her grandmother slowly begin making her way to the kitchen. Two years ago, the doctor had insisted that she get a walker. At first, she’d protested, but now the metal contraption seemed like a part of her. Addie had become used to listening as the muted thunk of the tennis-ball-covered legs on the wood floor announced her presence.

“Good morning to you, child. How was the party last evening?” Mommi asked as she continued to slowly make her way into the kitchen.

Ack! Mommi sounded so hopeful. Again and again, her grandmother imagined that Addie would suddenly fit in and be the belle of the ball. Just like a fairy princess in the children’s tales she used to get from the bookmobile.

Addie knew better. Of course, that was never going to happen, but relaying the news made her feel terrible. She hated to disappoint the woman who’d done so much for her.

A half dozen answers swirled in Addie’s head, all of them only half-truths. After weighing the pros and cons of various replies, she settled on the vaguest one. “It was all right.”

After treating Addie to a long, measured look, her grandmother carefully maneuvered her walker to the percolator on the stove. She steadied herself on the counter with one hand while she pulled down a coffee cup, added sugar, then poured milk into the cup with the other.

Addie watched with misgiving. After attempting to prepare her grandmother’s coffee several times, Mommi had told Addie to leave her be.

Addie understood her grandmother’s need for independence, but she was biding her time until Mommi missed the carafe and hot coffee spilled all over the counter.

This wasn’t the morning to take over, however.

After giving the brew two stirs, Mommi carried the cup to the table with one hand.

Only when she sat down did she speak again. “Ah,” she said.

Thankful that they weren’t going to have to discuss the engagement party any further, Addie said, “You were sound asleep when I got home. I’m glad I didn’t wake you.”

“I’m glad, too, but I wouldn’t have minded. Especially if you were singing because you were so happy.”

Addie hid a smile. There was a reason that she’d loved those children’s fairy tales so much—Lovina Stutzman did, too. “Oh, Gram. No one does things like that except in books.”

Faded brown eyes met her own. “Young ladies do sing, and you would too if you were happier.”

“I am happy. I’m just not happy at parties like that.”

“I see. You’re not happy to attend engagement parties that include all of your friends in Apple Creek?”

“You know what I mean.” Especially since most of her friends were . . .