Home To Stay

Book 2: Little Child Shall Lead Them

by Loree Lough

Genres: Amish & Mennonite; Christian Romance; General Fiction

Synopsis

In the New Order Amish community of Pleasant Valley, a helping hand is never far away, and a baby's smile can be reason enough to start over—and risk love again . . .

Since losing his family in a tragic accident, building contractor Max Lambright can't seem to find purpose in anything but hard work . . . until he meets feisty newcomer, Willa Richards. As she struggles to make a new life for herself and her baby girl, she challenges him in just about every possible way. Dare he hope that, alongside this spirited woman, he might rekindle his lost faith, and find the path to love and the family he craves?

Poor choices and a difficult past have inspired Willa to make better decisions for her precious Frannie, even if it means leaving the familiar behind and starting over . . . among strangers. As she adapts to the Amish ways, she learns about Max's generous and steadfast nature. The loneliness he tries so hard to mask can't be hidden . . . not from a woman with something to prove: Together, they can build their friendship into something that will forever stand as the cornerstone of a happy family . . .

Release date: April 28, 2020

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 353

Sample

The work was hard, but Max liked it that way. The more demanding the job, the faster the hours passed. If he had a complaint, it was his partner’s unpredictable moods.

“Where is Samuel?” Dan bellowed.

“Unloading the truck,” their foreman said, pointing.

Max watched Dan’s frown become a scowl as he stomped toward the flatbed, where Sam had just handed a two-by-four to Jonah. “You two . . . !”

“Who?” they asked.

“Your feet do not fit a limb, fools.”

The Miller brothers—taller and broader than Dan—flinched as he used the roll of blueprints as a pointer. When he’d finished taking them to task for leaving the office trailer unlocked, he made his way back to Max.

Sensing Dan’s mood today was more foul than usual, Max’s mutt cowered and trotted closer to his master.

“You are not afraid that beast will get hurt on the job?”

“I never let him get near anything dangerous. Besides, I like his company. He smiles from time to time.”

The sarcasm was lost on Dan, who said, “Your dog, your decision.” He stepped onto the porch and smacked the roll against a support post. “There is good reason for my frown.” He shook his head. “Do not marry. Do not ever, ever take a wife.”

Max had grown tired of listening to the man’s criticism of his wife. Squatting, he plucked sawdust from Rascal’s fur, and hoped Dan would move on to another topic.

He did not.

“You cannot satisfy a woman. Build her a house, she wants to fill it with children. And if the doctor says she cannot bear them, there will be no consoling her. So much for accepting all things as part of God’s will!” He kicked at the post, missed, and issued a low growl. “I will gladly work to provide for children of my own. But to endure blisters and gashes and a sunburnt neck for a young’un born of another man’s loins? I think not! And instead of appreciating my honesty, Anki punishes me with cold stares and never-ending silence. Two solid weeks of it now!” He kicked again, and this time, made contact.

Rascal pressed closer to Max. “Thank God for steel-toed boots, eh?”

That joke, too, fell on deaf ears.

“Take my advice, boy. A wife is for cooking and cleaning and not much more. Learn to do those things for yourself and save your sanity!”

Boy, indeed. Max had been doing for himself since the fire—six long years ago now—that had taken most of his family. The women in his life had contributed far more than belly-filling meals and clean laundry. They’d tended gardens, stitched quilts, crocheted sweaters and afghans, and managed shops that kept the Englishers coming back, year after year. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be with them again!

“Lord give me patience,” Dan was saying.

“Ask for patience, and you will get it by way of trials and tribulations. Be smart, m’friend. Pray for endurance, instead.”

Dan waved away the advice and focused on something across the way. Max followed his line of sight, and saw a young woman walking toward them. Walking fast enough to kick up clouds of dust with every purposeful bootstep. The brisk October wind pressed her gray skirt against long, muscular legs that told him she didn’t spend her days lounging about. It also mussed shiny curls that had escaped the confines of her black cap ... curls the color of the chestnuts his grandmother had once roasted at Christmastime.

Was she a visitor here, or new to Pleasant Valley?

“That,” Dan said, pointing, “is the second thorn in my side.” He thumbed the hard hat to the back of his head. “Anki’s live-in helper.”

“Helper?” Max met Dan’s eyes. “I hope Anki is not sick.”

“Hmpf. In the head, maybe. Dr. Baker says she is depressed, because she cannot have a baby.” Using his chin as a pointer he said, “And that one? She pops out a child that she did not even want.” He harrumphed again. “Are all women crazy?”

The young woman didn’t look crazy to Max, but then, he was paying far more attention to eyes so big that he could tell, even from this distance, that they were bright green.

“You forgot your lunch,” she told Dan. Thrusting a black dome-topped lunch pail at him, she added, “Again.”

“You would forget, too, if you had to deal with Anki’s nonstop whining.”

From her facial expression alone, Max decided she didn’t approve of the way Dan belittled his wife any more than he did. So far, she hadn’t made eye contact with him. A good thing, since he’d probably fumble and stutter and stumble over his own boots, the way he always had around pretty girls.

Just then, she zeroed in on him. “Don’t tell me this is your business partner. Why haven’t I seen him before?”

“Maybe because, like most women, you are interested only in yourself. And maybe because he is a hard worker.”

She clucked her tongue. And then, in a sad attempt to emulate Dan’s deep voice, said, “Nice of you to deliver my lunch, Willa. Be careful walking through the construction site on your way out. And tell Anki I’ll be there . . .” Eyes narrowed, she said through clenched teeth, “When will you be home?”

“I will get there when I get there.” He clutched the lunchbox to his broad chest. “Now go. We have work to do.”

Ignoring the insinuation, she inspected Max, starting with his well-worn work boots, stopping when their eyes met.

“What’s your name, partner?”

He shifted the hammer from his right hand to the left. “Max. Max Lambright.”

“Short for Maxwell?”

“Maximillian.”

“Well, Maximillian Lambright, I feel very, very sorry for you, having to spend your days with this . . .” She glared at Dan. “. . . with this ungrateful, two-legged porcupine.” She started walking away, stopping long enough to say, “And in case he hasn’t already told you all about my pathetic past, I might as well do it myself. I’m Willa Reynolds, the reformed drug addict and unwed mother who would probably be in jail—or dead—if not for Anki’s kindness and generosity.”

And without another word, she jogged away.

“Close your mouth, boy, before a horsefly buzzes down your throat.”

Max clamped his teeth together. “She . . . she lives at your house?”

“Believe me, it was not my idea. But anything to keep Anki’s complaining to a minimum. Too bad it doesn’t quiet Willa’s baby. That child contributes nothing to the household but noise and poop and drool.”

“And Willa’s husband?”

“You were not listening when she said ‘unwed mother’?” An exasperated puff of air passed his lips. “Genoeg lollygagging! We can’t make any money if we stand around, te gapen.”

Max hadn’t realized he’d been gaping. “Where is she from?”

“Baltimore. Philadelphia. Deep Creek.” He shrugged. “She’s a bit of a gypsy, if you ask me.”

“Ah, so that is why she does not speak like us.”

“Jij oet wel een genie zijn.”

If Max was a genius, he wouldn’t have said, “But her dress and cap, even those boots—”

“Hand-me-downs, given by the ladies in Anki’s quilting circle. As long as Willa looks the part, people will tolerate her and the child. The pair of them get free room and board at my place. She gets a paycheck, too, in exchange for housekeeping, cooking, doing laundry and yard work ... things Anki would do, if she wasn’t . . .” He rolled his eyes. “. . . depressed.”

Dan’s mockery wasn’t lost on Max. He pictured the Hofmans’ modest cottage and wondered how they’d found space for another adult and a baby.

Just get back to work, he told himself. What goes on under their roof is none of your concern.

Max decided to concentrate on the fact that today was payday. As bookkeeper of the business, he’d recently discovered that Dan had added to his regular salary reimbursement for what it had cost him to travel to the outdoor market in Grantsville. When Max had questioned going that far for jams and jellies, breads, and pies that were readily available in Pleasant Valley, Dan told him that Anki believed the Grantsville goods far surpassed those here at home; once she figured out the ingredients and duplicated the recipes, Dan added, she intended to sell them in her own shop. She hadn’t, thanks to bouts with depression. Would Anki have been happier if she had?

“Dunner uns Gewidder!” Dan muttered. “Guck emol do!”

It wasn’t like Dan to preface any statement with “confound it.” Max followed his gaze again, this time to the path Willa had taken.

“The simpele zielen girl has dropped her apron.”

The apron, like everything else she’d worn, didn’t fit properly. It hardly seemed fair to call her simpleminded because it fell off.

“She probably did it on purpose.”

“Why would she do such a thing?”

“Because she is a vrouw. And women want attention, no matter what it takes to get it.”

“I’ll fetch it, save you having to do it later.”

Max didn’t wait for Dan’s agreement. He half ran toward the spot where he’d last seen Willa, slowing long enough to scoop up the apron. Shaking it free of gravel and grit as he made his way to the road, Max wondered what he’d say once he caught up with her.

She whirled around to face him. “Why are you following me?”

“I’m not.” He held up the apron. “You dropped this.”

Her expression softened a bit as she took it from him. “Thank you. This was really nice of you.” She glanced toward Dan. “How long have you worked with Mr. Prickly?”

Rascal had followed, and now sat, smiling up at her. “Seven years,” he said as she stooped to pet the dog. “One year as an employee, the rest, as a partner.”

She exhaled a long, whispery sigh. “Seven years.”

The way she said the word, it might have been seventy.

“I’ve only been with the Hofmans for a month. How do you do it!”

“You learn to let a lot of things slide,” Max admitted.

Willa stood. “What’s his name?”

“Rascal.”

Her grin lit up her whole face. Her pretty, freckled, green-eyed face. Then she tied the apron around her waist. Her long, slender waist.

“Go ahead,” she said, securing its bow. “I can see that you have questions. Ask away. I’m honest ... when I can be.”

A strange qualifier, he thought, and said, “How old is your baby?”

“Frannie is one. She isn’t walking yet, and Dan believes it’s because I was still taking drugs before I realized I was pregnant. I was not, but since the Great Hofman knows all . . .”

He spared her the ordeal of defending herself by saying, “According to my mother, I did not walk until I was well into my second year. Her theory was that I hadn’t found a reason to get to my feet. She also said that such things are different for each child.”

“That’s exactly what Dr. Baker told me, just the other day!” She tilted her head slightly. “Next question?”

“How did you get here?”

“On the train. You didn’t think I walked, with a baby on my hip, did you?”

Max returned her smile. “No, I just meant, how is it that of all the places you might have ended up, you live in Pleasant Valley, with the Hofmans.”

“You should smile more, Max. You’re quite handsome when you do.”

Then she focused on something behind him. Based on the sudden change in her mood, it must be Dan.

“You’d better get back, before his head explodes.” She turned, but only halfway. “I hope we’ll run into one another again ... so that I can answer the rest of your questions, of course.”

Of course? Max didn’t know how to interpret that, but he watched until she turned from the jobsite’s gravel drive onto the road.

“Oh, we will run into one another again, Willa Reynolds. You can count on it.”

Willa filled the tip of the tiny spoon with applesauce and held it near Frannie’s lips.

“I tried to get her to eat,” Anki said, “but the child only wants her mother today, it seems.”

“Nonsense. She adores you. Who has the gift for quieting her when she cries? Who knows which toy she wants, even before she reaches for it? And who gets her to cooperate when we need to put a bonnet on her head? You, Anki, that’s who!”

When the woman smiled that way, it lifted her entire being. It made Willa want to find ways to encourage Anki’s smiles.

“May I be honest with you, Anki?”

“Of course.”

As usual when she felt out of place, uncomfortable, or displeased, Anki stared at the floor and fiddled with her apron ties. Honesty, Willa realized, was the last thing she wanted to hear, thanks to her belligerent, overbearing husband.

“It’s natural for Frannie to prefer me. I’m her mother, after all, and she knows it. But she’s grown very fond of you in a very short time. And as you know, she’s a very discerning li’l gal.”

Frannie chose that moment to pound on the wooden highchair tray, one of the many items on loan from Anki’s neighbors. “Mama!” she squealed.

“Aw, you want more applesauce, don’t you, beautiful girl.”

Frannie’s wide smile revealed six tiny whiter-than-snow teeth, four on top, two on the bottom. “You’re the best thing that ever has happened to me. I’ll never love anyone more. Ever.”

Anki stood at the kitchen sink, staring into the backyard. “The human heart can hold much love, Willa. One day you will see for yourself that this is true.”

It seemed beyond unfair that the poor woman so desperately wanted a child and couldn’t carry one to term. Much as she’d like to blame Dan for his wife’s depression, Willa suspected other factors were at work. For one thing, Anki didn’t eat enough to keep a sparrow alive, and night after night, she’d heard the woman pacing the squeaky wood floors, muffling her tears with a linen napkin. Willa didn’t know how long she’d be welcome to stay with the Hofmans, but while she was here, she intended to do everything she could to ease the woman’s suffering.

“Guess what ... I just met the most interesting man.”

That, at least, made Anki turn around. “Oh? Here in Pleasant Valley?”

“Yes. When I delivered Dan’s lunch to the jobsite, I met his partner.”

“Ah yes. Max.” Affection softened her features.

“He seems nice. Smart, too. And oh, that handsome smile!”

Cupping her elbows, Anki pressed herself against the back door. “It is difficult to believe he smiles at all, considering . . .”

“Considering what?”

Eyes closed, Anki bit her lower lip. “When he was a boy, his father and brothers were killed when a drunken driver crossed the center line of the highway and crashed into the Lambrights’ buggy. He and his mother moved in with the grandparents. His grandfather began suffering memory lapses. Forgot how to run the farm machinery. Got lost walking from the barn to the house. And one night, he loaded up the woodstove and forgot to close the door. The fire killed them all and destroyed the house.”

“How horrible! Where was Max?”

“He had delivered a load of firewood to the hardware store in Oakland. It was too dark to drive home, so he’d slept in the buggy.”

That explained the sadness in his blue eyes. But why did Anki seem so shaken, relating the information? Had she witnessed the fire? Or perhaps she was related to Max . . . an in-law, a cousin once removed ...

Willa fed Frannie the last of the applesauce, then let the baby bang the spoon on the empty bowl. Giggles rippled from her as she gnawed its rubber-sheathed tip. If only Willa could transfer some of that joy into Anki!

“How long ago was the fire?” she asked.

“Oh, six, maybe seven years ago?”

Willa had never known her father and didn’t have siblings, but her relationship with her mother had been deep and abiding, and when cancer took her a decade earlier, Willa’s life spun out of control.

“How many were . . .” It seemed heartless to say killed, so Willa said, “How many did he lose that night?”

“The grandparents, of course. His mother. And a sister. His father was an only child. So . . .”

“He never married? Has no children?”

Slumping onto a kitchen chair, Anki sighed. In place of an answer, she said, “Max is a lovely young man. He invested in Daniel’s business when no one else would help him. The only person in all of Pleasant Valley who can control my husband.” She smirked. “I wish I knew his secret.”

“So do I.” Willa shivered involuntarily. “Every time that temper of his flares, I’m reminded of Joe.” She shivered involuntarily.

Anki leaned in close and drew Willa into a sideways hug. “Now, now, do not let his behavior—or my husband’s, for that matter—remind you of bad times. Your life here can be good and fulfilling. It will take time, but I believe you will be happy here. It will be good for sweet Frannie, too, to live in a place where she is safe from people like your Joe.”

Her Joe? Willa supposed she deserved that. She hadn’t been an impressionable child when he came into her life, and he certainly hadn’t held a gun to her head. Everything she’d done, everything that had happened to her after meeting him . . . that was on her. And she admitted it every time she looked into Frannie’s perfect, beautiful face.

“Max has not taken a wife.”

Willa translated the woman’s mischievous smile to mean he was eligible, if marriage was on her radar.

“It’s time for Frannie’s nap,” she said, and lifted the baby from the highchair. “Once she’s quieted down, I’ll start supper. Did Dan demand—I mean, request—anything special for tonight?”

Anki shook her head. “No, but I’m in the mood for venison roast, with potatoes and carrots, green beans.” She blinked, like an innocent schoolgirl. “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Consider it done.” She gave her boss’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Say nite-nite to Anki, cutie pie.”

The baby opened and closed her chubby fist three times, then snuggled into Willa’s neck.

“I will pray for sweet dreams,” Anki said as they headed for the stairway.

Upstairs, in the room she and Frannie had shared for the past month, Willa pulled down the green roller blind to block the bright afternoon sun, changed the baby’s diaper, and snapped her into a clean onesie . . . another hand-me-down from her Pleasant Valley neighbors. Leaning into the borrowed crib, she whispered, “I’ll pray for sweet dreams, too.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek, then lifted the crib’s guardrail until it snapped into place. “One day, we’ll have a place of our own. I’ll work hard and save every penny, and find us a place where you’ll have a room and I’ll have a room—with sunshine streaming through the windows—and a big front porch with rocking chairs and hanging plants and—”

But Frannie had already closed her eyes. Best baby in all the world, Willa thought, heart thumping with love.

Willa stood at the window and lifted the shade just enough to peek outside. How odd, she thought, that some of the community’s women decorated their homes with curtains and tablecloths, while others, like Anki, did not. What would she say about the ruffled Cape Cods her mother had hung in every window ... yellow in the kitchen, white in the bathroom, pale blue in the living room...

Plainness. Here at the Hofmans’, it started with the white clapboards that hugged the house, then slid inside, where the only bright color was found on the pages of the calendar in the kitchen. If not for its counting-days usefulness, Anki had explained, it wouldn’t be there, either.

“In our house, baby girl,” she whispered, “there’ll be curtains in the windows, puffy throw pillows on the couch, landscapes and still lifes on the walls, and thick rugs under our feet!”

In the yard below, Willa saw the white sheets, pillowcases, and patchwork quilts rising and falling on the breeze. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear them, snapping and flapping to bring her attention to steely clouds that hung low on the horizon, warning of an oncoming storm.

The roast would have to wait.

Since her arrival in Pleasant Valley, the weather had been balmy and dry, and everyone had been praying for rain. Willa looked up, past the angry gray billows. “Just don’t go overboard, okay, God? The crops and gardens and wells need water, but not a deluge.” She could almost see her mom, pretending to look annoyed, shaking her forefinger, saying, “You talk to Him like He’s one of your schoolmates. Show some respect!” They’d gone round and round about it, and because Willa hated seeing her mom the least bit upset, she’d taught herself to make every prayer sound a little more ... formal. But in the privacy of her mind, she continued speaking to Him as a friend. Because that’s exactly how she saw Him.

Until she met Joe . . .

Frannie exhaled a sweet baby sigh, and Willa tiptoed over for a closer look, taking care not to step on the creaky third board beside the crib. Oh, but she was adorable. “Thank you, Lord,” she said softly. And she meant it.

As soon as the pregnancy test came back positive, she’d stopped drinking. Stopped taking drugs. Stopped delivering them to Joe’s “customers,” and started making plans to get as far from Philadelphia as possible. Her mom had left a small inheritance. If Joe had known about it, she never could have withdrawn every dollar ... or taped the bills to her torso, then hidden them beneath thick, oversized sweatshirts.

Leaning both forearms on the crib rail, she said, “Did you feel those big, hard bundles bouncing against you that day? Man, I sure hope not!”

She’d thanked God back then, too, for blessing her with the good sense to deposit the money in a major Philly bank—and giving her the strength to leave it there—despite a thousand temptations to spend it on pills or pot that promised to dull the pain of being completely alone in the world.

“But I’m not alone now, am I?” she whispered. “I’ll never be alone again, thanks to you, sweet girl.” Willa sighed. “Remember how much you hated walking with me?” A soft laugh punctuated her question. “Oh, what a fuss you kicked up in my belly, and you didn’t let up until I found us a place where you could be born and a proper babysitter to keep an eye on you while I worked.”

Outside now, Willa slid two-pronged clothespins from the line and made quick work of folding Dan’s socks, handkerchiefs, and work clothes into the wicker basket, remembering how she’d walked west, stopping in town after town, washing dishes, cleaning motel rooms, babysitting, cooking and cleaning her bosses’ houses ... anything to earn a few dollars to add to her mother’s savings. Her intended destination? Deep Creek Lake. She’d read all about the resort in a free brochure, found at the travel agency next to one of the diners where she’d waited tables. There, she believed, she’d find steady work, a place to live, and babysitters who worked for the lodge to care for Frannie.

Of course, she’d been just Baby, not Frannie, back then. Tears stung Willa’s eyes, as she remembered how she’d dreamed of seeing the beautiful, white cloud–cloaked Allegheny Mountains in person. Sniffling, she dried them with the corner of her apron. The one she’d almost lost on Dan’s jobsite. Correction. Dan and Max’s jobsite.

It had taken months, and she’d taken a lot of risks, alternately hitchhiking and walking to get there. But they’d only made it as far as Baltimore, where she hired on with a resort-type hotel in the Inner Harbor. Her coworkers had taken a liking to her, but none more than the manager. Martha’s kids lived on the West Coast, so she’d more or less adopted Willa. And when Frannie came along, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Martha to step into the surrogate grandma role.

Everything was going great, Willa thought, carrying the basket inside, until someone filed a complaint with the Department of Child and Family Services. But God . . . He was watching out for you, even then, baby girl. It was thanks to Alice from DCF that Willa ended up in Pleasant Valley, working for cranky Dan and his sulky wife. Willa refused to complain, because here, it was calm and quiet and clean, and she didn’t fall exhausted into bed at the end of each workday.

After putting the laundry where it belonged, she returned to her room, where Frannie still slept. She eased fingertips through Frannie’s dark curls. “Oh, how I worried before you were born. I thought ... what if the garbage I put into my system in the days before the pregnancy . . .”

At the window again, Willa cupped her elbows as the tears flowed freely. Get hold of yourself, Will. That venison won’t roast itself while you stand here feeling sorry for yourself.

In the small bathroom across the hall, Willa blew her nose and dried her eyes. She looked into the mirror—hung for the sole purpose of helping Dan shave his mustache and groom his beard—and for the first time in a long, long time, she didn’t hate the woman looking back at her.

“And that’s all thanks to You, Lord.”

She didn’t deserve such a perfect, sweet-tempered baby. Living in this tiny house with the Hofmans was a challenge, but they paid a fair wage. More important than the money, Frannie was safe. That, too, was thanks to the Almighty.

Willa wasn’t fooling herself. He hadn’t done it for her. Not after all the sins she’d committed before Frannie came into her life. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving how gr. . .