His Unexpected Amish Twins

Book 1: Unexpected Amish Blessings

by Rachel J. Good

Genres: Amish & Mennonite; Christian Romance; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

When Micah Miller’s brother and sister-in-law are killed in a buggy accident, he’s devastated. But he fulfills the promise he made when their twins were born seven years earlier: to raise Abby and Isaac should tragedy strike. Still, coping with the children’s grief as well as his own, requires extra support. Micah takes them to a counselor who recommends animal therapy. He’s surprised to find an Amish farm that offers just that . . .
 
Hope Graber had to find a way to save the family farm after her daed’s health forced him to stop breeding horses. Providing animal therapy proved to be the answer—thanks to the help of expert trainer Logan Russell. Together, they not only pay the bills, they make positive changes in children’s lives. Hope loves working with each child, but she takes a special interest in the Miller twins. She even makes Micah smile again—and he does the same for her. In fact, as Micah emerges from his depression, he longs to make them one happy family. But will Hope’s debt to her Englisch trainer, and their close partnership, stand in the way?

Release date: February 25, 2020

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 306

Sample

Not again! Hope Graber planted her elbows on the scarred maple table, lowered her head into her hands, and rubbed her damp forehead. She could barely breathe in the sweltering summer air. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed that when she opened them, she’d find she’d misread the letter spread on the kitchen table.

She eased her eyelids open but kept her gaze slightly unfocused. Maybe it would lessen the shock.

Please, please, be wrong.

But the blurry numbers on the sheet before her sharpened. Impossible. The bank must have made a mistake.

Unless . . .

Stomach churning, Hope stood on shaky legs and headed toward the staircase. “Daed,” she called.

No answer. Had he known the bank statement would arrive today?

She snatched up the paper and marched upstairs. The scorching heat increased with each step, and so did her temper. When she reached the landing, faint snores issued from Daed’s bedroom. Very odd.

First of all, he never slept during the day, except when he was ill. And second, his usual breathing pattern at night consisted of a buzzing chain saw that rattled the windowpanes followed by a series of shrill train whistles.

One hand on the doorknob to her father’s room, Hope hesitated. The Bible said to honor your parents, and she always tried hard to treat Daed as God commanded. But what about in this situation? Would it be disrespectful to accuse Daed of faking?

She needed answers and she needed them now. With a quick snap, she opened the door and barged into the room. “Daed, do you know anything about this?”

The gentle snores persisted.

“You don’t fool me,” Hope said. “We need to talk about this bank statement.” She rattled the offending paper to get his attention.

Avoiding her eyes, he groaned and maneuvered his bulk to a sitting position. “I wasn’t expecting that so soon.”

Really? Then why had he been pretending to sleep? Her father never stretched out on a bed fully clothed in midafternoon.

Hope pinched her lips together to control the flow of accusations gathering in her throat. He was her father. The man who’d loved and cared for her as a child. The man who’d always enjoyed jokes and hearty laughter. The man who’d taught her to follow her faith and led by example. The man who’d worked hard to build a thriving horse-boarding business. The man who’d tenderly cared for Mamm during her last days.

Flashes of that man still flickered through this unkempt, sweat-stained, bleary-eyed stranger, his rotund chest straining his suspenders, the fabric of his shirt stretched taut over his burgeoning belly. Perhaps she’d been wrong to take charge of the farm. She hadn’t meant for him to stop working completely.

Usually, children gave their fathers the money they earned until they turned twenty-one, but just before she turned nineteen, she and Daed sat down with the bishop and church elders to discuss their financial situation and Daed’s problem. He’d confessed to them, but the church leaders had suggested he not handle money for the next year or two.

Rather than accusing Daed or reminding him of the past, Hope held out the bank statement. “Unless the bank’s made a huge error, a large sum of money is missing from the savings account. Should I call them to see if that’s the case?”

Daed hung his head. “No, dochder.” His grave words were barely audible.

“Please tell me you still have the money,” Hope pleaded, praying her dreams and plans hadn’t just disappeared.

“I–I can’t do that,” he mumbled.

Nooo. Hope bit her lip. Taking a deep breath to keep her voice calm and measured, she emphasized each word. “That money was to pay the therapist who’s coming tomorrow and to pay for start-up costs.”

She’d placed ads, bought the signs, purchased therapy equipment . . . All those bills needed to be paid. She’d offered free horse therapy sessions over the next few weeks to introduce people to the farm’s services, so she’d have no income.

Her father’s voice wobbled as much as his double chins. “I’m so sorry.”

“But how did you—?” Daed had barely been out of the house this month. No way could he have gone somewhere to gamble.

“Art stopped by two weeks ago. He was heading to Penn National. I told him I couldn’t go, but I was sure one of the horses would be a winner. You were having lunch at Priscilla’s, so . . .” Daed hung his head, muffling the rest of the sentence. “Art drove me to the bank.”

Their Englisch neighbor Art had been the one who’d introduced Daed to gambling. He and Daed had gone to the horse races in Grantville, where Daed, with his knowledge of horses, had had great success.

Art had been thrilled. So had Daed, although he’d kept it a secret from the family. He’d invested the money in the business, and he’d expanded the barn so they could board even more horses. Maybe no one would have discovered Daed’s secret life if Art hadn’t convinced Daed to try other forms of gambling.

Daed’s luck hadn’t held, and he’d lost all of the profit he’d made and more. Instead of quitting, Daed took even greater risks. Especially once Mamm got sick. He wanted money to cover her hospital bills. Instead, he’d ended up deeply in debt. But he’d covered it up, and no one suspected.

Hope worried about him as he grew haggard and depressed. To help, she decided to surprise him by taking over the accounting. Only she ended up being the one who was surprised. And shocked, scared, and sick.

When she’d confronted him, he’d confessed and agreed to meet with the church leaders. He admitted he had an addiction. The bishop’s solution had been for Hope to take over their finances.

After that decision, Hope ended up in charge of the horse-boarding business. She was the one who informed all the owners she couldn’t board their horses anymore. She didn’t tell them why, only that the business was closing.

They’d been left with three gentle, older horses of their own and their buggy horse. With her friend Priscilla’s advice and support, Hope planned to start a new business, another horse-related job that fit her better. Priscilla’s autistic younger brother had served as the inspiration. The sign had been ordered and would be installed next week: “Graber’s Horse Therapy: Hope for Children.”

That dream had sustained Hope as she worked long overtime hours at the restaurant. She’d paid back every boarder, caught up on bills, kept them out of bankruptcy, and saved every extra penny each week for more than two years.

Finally, she’d saved enough to pay a licensed therapist, start her own certification course, and place ads in a few local newspapers that were still in circulation. She’d also sent a letter to the Die Botschaft, describing her start-up services, not that she expected many Amish customers. Most of the children who came would most likely be Englisch. Eventually, she hoped to convince some of the parents of special-needs children who went to the Amish schoolhouse how beneficial therapy could be.

Now her nest egg for the business had disappeared. They had barely enough to pay this month’s bills. Her eyes stung. What would she do?

She had to get away, do some thinking. The broiling August heat seared her as she fled to the barn. Being around horses always soothed her, but not this time. As she strode past the stalls, questions crowded her mind. How would she pay for the horses’ daily upkeep? Would she have to sell off the few horses she’d kept? Close down her business before opening day?

She wanted to talk to someone, but she’d spent so much time covering for Daed and hiding the truth. From the outside, they might appear to be a normal father and daughter, but their g’may, with the exception of the three leaders, had no idea what lay beneath the surface.

Who could she trust? Would sharing her concerns about Daed be a betrayal?

Her best friend, Priscilla, always provided a listening ear and sound advice, and she could be trusted to keep a secret. Several years ago, Hope had told Priscilla about their financial difficulties, but she’d never confided the reason. Priscilla’s father, though, had been one of the church leaders who met with Daed, so Priscilla might already know or suspect.

Though Hope was reluctant to expose her family’s shame, she had to discuss this problem. Perhaps she and Priscilla could come up with a solution.

Hope trudged out to the barn to hook up the buggy, and soon Biscuit was clomping along the country roads while Hope cooked inside the buggy’s interior. After she arrived at the Ebersols’, she wiped the beads of sweat dripping from her brow and peeled her damp dress from her skin.

When she tapped at the back door, Priscilla’s cheery “Come in” greeted Hope through the screen. She slid off her shoes in the mudroom beside the kitchen and padded through the doorway to find Priscilla ladling jam into jars. The battery-powered fan on the kitchen table did little to dispel the heat in the steamy kitchen.

“Almost done,” Priscilla said. “What’s the matter?” With her usual sensitivity, Priscilla had picked up on Hope’s distress.

“Let me help you finish the jam first.” Hope followed behind her friend, inhaling the sweet scent of warm raspberry as she wiped jar rims and screwed on lids.

When all the glass jars gleamed in neat rows, Priscilla poured them each a cup of lemonade, and Hope sank into a chair at the kitchen table and spilled her problems.

Priscilla sat silent for a minute, then she leaned closer to Hope. “I have an idea. Daed’s been setting aside the money I’ve been earning on the jam. I don’t need it for anything right now, and I’ll be making money teaching in the fall. Why don’t I lend you that money?”

Hope shook her head. “I couldn’t take anything from you.”

Leaning forward, Priscilla fixed Hope with an intent gaze. “Would you accept it if I promise it isn’t charity? I’d like you to pay me back when you can, but take your time. And I can even charge you extra if that makes you feel better.”

“I don’t know.” Priscilla’s offer sounded like an answer to Hope’s prayers, but taking money from a friend didn’t feel right.

Priscilla rose from the table and returned with a pad and pen. After she did a little figuring, she slid a paper across the table. “Here’s what I’ll give you, and this is when you can pay me back.”

Hope glanced at the numbers and gasped. “How could you possibly have that much?”

“I’ve been working nonstop this summer, and I get a small percentage from each person I train for the jam business. It adds up.”

“I don’t have to pay anything for six months? And no extra?” Hope shook her head. She couldn’t accept these terms.

“In the end, I’ll get about the same amount as leaving it in the bank. Meanwhile, it will benefit you and all the children who need therapy, including Asher.”

“But we already agreed he’d be coming for free.” Hope refused to charge Priscilla’s family for her brother’s therapy. She’d never have this business if it weren’t for Priscilla and Asher.

“Exactly. You want to do kind things for me, so let me do something in return.” Priscilla rose from the table. “The boys and Daed will be back from the hardware store soon. I need to start supper, but if you come back tomorrow, I’m sure Daed will go with you to the bank to make the transfer.”

Supper? Hope should be home making a meal for Daed. Dazed and overwhelmed, she headed for the door. “Danke.” She still didn’t feel right about taking Priscilla’s money, but right now she had little choice. And the children’s needs had to come before her pride. Once the business became profitable, though, she’d pay Priscilla back at a much higher interest rate.

Clucking to get Biscuit moving at a faster clip, Hope hurried her horse along the winding roads, her heart a little lighter. They swung around a curve, and Hope sucked in a breath. Yanking on the reins, she swerved onto the shoulder and dragged Biscuit to a stop. At the sight ahead, bile rose in her throat.

An overturned buggy. A car with a smashed windshield. Its front end crumpled. Facing the wrong direction, one wheel stuck in a ditch.

No! Hope pulled her buggy to the side of the road and tied Biscuit to the nearby speed limit sign. Then, whispering prayers, she raced toward the accident.

A car screeched to a halt on the opposite shoulder, and a man jumped out, carrying a cell phone. He jabbed at it, then yelled into it as he sprinted across the street. He reached the buggy before she did.

Among the grasses alongside the road, a flash of blue stood out, and Hope halted. A small girl lay sprawled on the ground, her eyes closed. She must have been thrown from the buggy. Hope’s insides churned. Was she hurt? Dead?

The Englischer would help the occupants of the buggy. Someone needed to stay with the child.

Hope knelt beside the girl, whose chest was rising and falling. Thank God, she was alive. As a farm girl, Hope had assisted the vet with animal emergencies, so the sight of blood shouldn’t shock her. But it did. The young girl looked so fragile, so innocent. Hope longed to gather the child in her arms and hold her close, but the little girl’s arm was bent at an odd angle.

A gash on her forehead bled profusely. Hope had to stop the bleeding somehow. She needed cloth. Her apron. Swiftly, she unpinned her half-apron, folded a section of it into a compress with the clean underside facing out. She applied pressure to staunch the flow. With the opposite corner of her apron, Hope gently wiped the girl’s eye and cheek.

Cars screeched to halt near the buggy, and people rushed to help. People called out questions or shouted out directions in the background chaos behind Hope. A woman offered to do CPR for the buggy occupants, but then screamed and stumbled away. A deep voice ordered everyone back from the buggy. One man held up traffic so vehicles coming the other way could inch around the accident scene.

Hope tried to block out the pandemonium to concentrate on the child, but the noise and confusion surrounding her filled her ears and her mind. Her breathing tight and rapid, she stayed beside the little girl and prayed the ambulance would hurry.

“Is she all right?” a woman asked. “It’s a bad scene over there. I don’t think they’ve noticed her over here.”

Hope raised her eyes to meet the woman’s. “How are the people in the buggy?”

“I couldn’t get close enough to see, but it looks terrible. They’re keeping everyone away.”

That didn’t sound good.

“Do you need help?” The Englischer gestured toward the little girl.

“She’s bleeding, but she’s breathing.” Definitely a blessing, given how far the child had been thrown. “Her arm, though . . .” Hope nodded toward the injured arm.

The woman grimaced. “She’s unconscious?”

“Jah, I mean yes.”

Just then the small girl whimpered, and her eyes fluttered open. “Mamm?”

“She can’t come right now.” Hope scooted over to block the smashed buggy from the child’s view. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Want . . . Mamm.”

Hope reached for the small hand. “I wish she could be here with you, but she isn’t able to come.”

“It . . . hurts.”

“I know. Someone will be here soon to help.”

In the distance, an ambulance siren screamed. The girl shivered as it drew nearer and then pulled past them to stop close to the crash. Police cars arrived to set up flares and direct traffic. A fire truck pulled in front of the accident scene. All around them, lights pulsed blue and red, and sirens shrieked.

The small girl cringed at the flashing lights and earsplitting racket.

EMTs spent several minutes at the car and buggy before one came to check on them, her face grim. The EMT did a quick assessment. “Let’s get you to the hospital,” she said to the little girl.

Then she glanced over at Hope. “We’ll be transporting the boy too. I think it would be best to keep them together.”

“Jabin?” The small girl’s voice shook.

“Is that your brother?” the EMT asked softly. At the girl’s barely audible “yes,” the EMT said, “Can you tell me your name?”

“Chloe . . . Miller.”

“All right, Chloe. We’re going to put Jabin in first, then take you.”

“I . . . want . . . Mamm,” she wailed.

The EMT gazed at her with compassion. “We can only fit the two of you into the ambulance. I’m so sorry.”

Hope stayed beside Chloe, holding her hand until she was on the litter.

Before they wheeled her away, the little girl clutched Hope’s hand. “Don’t . . . go.”

How could Hope leave this little one whose parents couldn’t take care of her? She glanced at the EMT, who nodded, and Hope climbed into the back of the ambulance to accompany two young children she didn’t know to the hospital in place of their parents.

Ring! Ring!

Micah Miller jerked awake. Who would be calling at this hour? Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he stumbled out of bed and across the room, stubbing his toe hard on the dresser leg as he passed. He bit back a yelp and hopped a few steps on one foot.

“Sohn?” Daed called out.

“I’ll get it,” Micah assured him.

The ringing ended, then began again. Now that his eyes were accustomed to the dark, Micah hurried downstairs despite his throbbing toe. He opened the door to the kitchen, where the receiver from the black box kept dinging. Suddenly, it stopped. Blessed peace reigned.

But not for long. Whoever had called would leave a message. You didn’t phone this late at night unless it was an emergency.

Brrinngg. The phone started up again, and Micah snatched up the receiver.

“I apologize for calling after nine.” The woman’s voice on the other end didn’t sound familiar. “My name’s Hope Graber, and I’m calling about Anna . . .”

Anna? Micah’s sleep-fogged brain struggled to place the name. Two older ladies in their church district were named Anna, one toddler, and . . . Wait! Not Anna his sister-in-law. “Anna from Lancaster?”

“Yes, Ben and Anna . . .” The line went silent except for a strangled sob. “I’m so sorry—”

“They what? Is something wrong?”

“Didn’t the police get through?”

“Police? Neh.” Had those been the calls he’d missed? “Has something happened to them?”

“A buggy accident,” she choked out.

Micah shook his head, as if that could dislodge what she’d said. Buggy accidents were often horrific. “Are they all right?” He hoped she’d say they were. But if they hadn’t been hurt, they’d be calling themselves. Of course, they’d have waited until the morning. And she’d mentioned the police.

Her stifled sob prepared him for bad news, but not for the full impact of her barely intelligible, stark statement. “They were killed instantly.”

Each word dropped like a heavy boulder, crushing his heart. The kitchen swam around him, and Micah slumped into the nearest chair. It couldn’t be. Not his older brother Ben, the brother Micah had always tried to outdo but never succeeded. And Ben’s lovely, sweet wife, Anna.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman whispered, her voice thick with tears. “Everyone who stopped by to check on the children said Ben and Anna are, were . . . the sweetest couple. So in love.”

“Yes, they—” His air passages closed completely. He couldn’t say they are, but the word were stayed stuck in the back of his throat, creating a barrier, blocking the flow of his sentence.

A picture flashed through his mind of Anna, cuddling the twins on her lap when he’d visited last month. Ben stood behind her, smiling down at her and the children. A pang of envy had shot through Micah at his brother’s perfect family.

If Micah had known his brother only had a few weeks to live, he’d never have begrudged Ben his happiness. Now, when it was too late to tell Ben, Micah realized how much he loved his brother, despite their childhood rivalry. He should have put aside his petty jealousy and appreciated their time together.

“Are you still there?” the soft voice drew Micah back to the receiver in his hand.

He had to speak, to ask what had happened to the twins. He forced out his question, the simple phrase pain-filled and raw. “The twins?”

“They have some injuries. Chloe had surgery for her broken arm and needed stitches in her forehead. They’re keeping her in the hospital for observation because of head trauma. Jabin has two broken ribs and a partially collapsed lung.”

Micah sucked in a breath. “So . . . they’re alive.”

“Covered in scrapes and bruises, but, yes, they’re”—her voice shook—“alive.”

She sounded so close to tears, Micah wanted to reach out to comfort her.

After drawing in an audible breath, she said, “I’m here at the hospital with them now.”

“Thank you. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” Micah set the receiver on the counter, but instead of moving, he sagged back in the chair and tried to put his world back together. Except none of the pieces fit.

“Micah?” Daed called from the head of the stairs.

A faint light shone from that direction. Daed must be carrying the battery-powered lantern. Mamm’s deep, hacking cough filled the air.

“I–I’ll be right up.” How would he break this news to his parents? Mamm and Daed had always favored their older son. Micah had been only a shadow who followed Ben’s every move and tried to imitate him, but Micah could never measure up to the skills of a brother who was five years older. Whatever Micah tried, Ben had always accomplished it before him. In school, on the playground, and in farm chores, Ben had always known more, done more, excelled more.

And now Ben was gone.

“Is everything all right?” Daed started down the stairs.

Micah scraped back his chair and rose. “I’m coming.” Now he’d be the older brother, the responsible one, the one who carried all the weight on his shoulders.

Climbing the stairs was like swimming upstream through thick sludge, lifting each foot became a chore. Daed stared down at him, his face grave, but he waited until Micah reached the landing before speaking.

“What is it? What’s happened?”

Micah motioned toward his parents’ bedroom. “I’ll tell you both.” He wasn’t sure he could get it out the first time. Once he did, he’d never be able to repeat it.

After they reached the room, Daed turned to him. “What’s wrong, Sohn?”

Micah took a deep breath to steady his nerves, but the overpowering odor of the onion Mamm had strung about her neck inside a cotton mesh bag stung his nose and eyes. He blinked to clear his vision.

“There’s been an accident.” Micah took a deep breath and, pushing the words past too-tight vocal cords, he repeated what the woman had told him.

Daed sank heavily onto the bed, his head bowed. He reached out and grasped Mamm’s hand. She hadn’t said anything, only stared at Micah. No, not at him, but through him, her eyes glazed.

“I’m so sorry,” Micah said. “I wish—”

Waving a hand to cut him off, Daed responded in slow, measured tones, “It’s God’s will. ‘Thy will be done, in Earth as it is in heaven.’” Yet, even as he recited the verse, the huskiness and trembling in his voice revealed his uncertainty. And the bleakness in his eyes reflected his questions.

The agony of missing Ben still seared Micah’s spirit, but the familiar prayer offered some comfort, some support.

“‘The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away,’” Daed repeated, his words shaky. “‘Blessed be the name of the Lord.’”

Daed seemed to be trying to remind himself and them that Ben’s passing was God’s will, and Micah believed it, but right now, his heart ached too much to calmly accept the loss of Ben and Anna.

He wanted to smack his fist into his palm, to demand an answer. To lift his head and shout at the ceiling, Why? Why? Why? And rail because the Lord hadn’t given him a chance to make amends with Ben, to confess his resentment, to ask for forgiveness.

For the first time, Mamm spoke. “I should go to Lancaster. The children are my responsibility.” Coughs racked her body.

“You’re not well enough for that,” Daed insisted. “And you can’t take a chance of giving the twins pneumonia. Especially not when they’re recovering.” He lowered his head into his hands.

“I’m going.” Micah made sure his tone was firm. He didn’t want Daed to argue with him. “I told the person who called I’d come to the hospital.” Maybe in this way, he could atone for long-held grudges.

“I see.” Daed stared off into the distance. “That might be best.”

All three of Micah’s younger sisters were married and had young children. Daed couldn’t leave his. . .