Love at Pebble Creek

Book 5: Hope Chest of Dreams

by Lisa Jones Baker

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

Synopsis

In Lisa Jones Baker’s heartwarming series, precious hand-carved chests hold treasured dreams—and bring blessings to a new generation … Anna King has a talent—and a secret. Like the birth mother she never knew, Anna is gifted at sketching and longs to study and teach art one day. Unbeknownst to her beloved adoptive family, she’s even entered a contest to win a full scholarship to art college. Sketching isn’t a desirable vocation in her community, so Anna does her work in a remote spot by Pebble Creek and stores it in her beautiful hope chest. Only her family’s farmhand, Jesse Beiler, knows her plans—and that’s by accident… The bishop’s son, Jessie is surprised to discover Anna’s contest entry form. He can’t imagine wanting a life beyond having his own farm and raising a family. Still, he admires Anna’s spirit and promises to keep her secret, despite their differences. Yet the better he and Anna get to know each other, the more they find their personalities—and their hearts—complement one another. With Gott’s guidance, can they forge the futures they desire—together? “The heart of this romance goes far beyond stereotypes… providing an unusual and welcome level of insight into the characters’ inner lives.” —Publishers Weekly on Rebecca’s Bouquet, STARRED REVIEW “A sweet tale. . . . Forgiveness is a key theme, as is the concept that life is a combination of good and bad situations that make us who we are.” —RT Book Reviews on Annie’s Recipe

Release date: August 27, 2019

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 211

Sample

A storm was about to hit. Thunder crackled, forcing twenty-year-old Anna King to work faster. As the wind howled and oak branches brushed against the sides of her family’s home in the countryside of Arthur, Illinois, she looked around and mentally ticked off her to-do list before the rain came.

The windows are closed. Fertig. The horse tied outside needs to be taken to the stall. As soon as the livestock are inside, close the barn doors. At least, the front ones. The wheelbarrow’s by the garden; put it in the shed. The hoe, too. If time permits, put mesh over the garden plants.

She looked down. And change aprons. With one quick motion, she removed the one she was wearing and replaced it with her larger work apron. Her parents were at King’s Bakery, so no one was home but her. Anna’s adrenaline rushed to an urgent speed as she considered everything needing to be done before the unforecasted downpour.

As she pulled shut the large front door of her home behind her, the lock clicked into place. The wreath she’d made for her mother was hanging on its holder for dear life, so she quickly unhooked it, opened the front door, and set the decoration just inside.

She closed the door again and stepped out on the front porch. To her surprise, the hot summer temperature had taken a sudden dip since early this morning, and an unusually cold breeze for the second week in July lifted her bangs.

Her daed followed the weather closely, and he would have prepared and warned her if this storm had been in the forecast. But her keen instincts noted the red flags that indicated one was coming: the suddenly dark sky and the loud, eerie-sounding wind.

For a brief moment, she imagined grabbing a phone from her pocket and dialing her eltern. She gave a quick shake of her head.

That wasn’t about to happen. The Amish didn’t use cell phones, not in this neck of the woods anyway, and the wall phone was out in the barn, so getting things done was all up to her.

Without help, no doubt, closing things up so fast would be a challenge. Still, there was plenty to smile about. The clipping she’d found while cleaning up at King’s Bakery that morning. A customer had left a St. Louis newspaper on a tisch.

She’d picked it up from the table and torn off the part of interest and stuffed it in her satchel. And the clipping would stay her secret. This entry could give her longtime dream a chance to come true. Which she wanted more than anything. The number-one thing on the list she kept inside her hope chest.

Outside, a few unruly tendrils of jet-black hair broke free from her kapp, and she didn’t bother to shove them back under her tight head covering. By the fierce-looking sky, she was sure there wasn’t much time to act.

The old chain that held the painted, light-blue wooden front porch swing to the ceiling creaked as the wind moved it back and forth in an uneven motion. Automatically, she grabbed the metal and hiked up one side to hook the middle part to the ceiling and stepped to the other side to repeat the action.

It came automatically to her because she and Maemm routinely did this together after any weather advisory in order to prevent the swing from being blown against the front of the house or, even worse, from colliding with and breaking the large front window. She lifted the heavy bench on one side as high as she could. Just enough for the chain to hook.

Fertig. As she caught her breath, she took in the sky in the distance, which had quickly become an uglier shade of dark gray. The color reminded her of charcoals in her daed’s grill after they’d burned.

The air smelled of rain. She pressed her lips together in a straight line, realizing that time was of the essence. She hiked up her dress and rushed down the front porch stairs. At the bottom, she continued to hold both sides to avoid tripping and falling.

She glimpsed Blaze, their beloved horse, tied to a post. Automatically, her eyes followed the path to the large, open barn doors. A drop of cold rain landed on her forehead, and she ran a hand over it.

As the ruthless, unforgiving wind continued to pick up speed, tall oak branches banged the roof of the two-story family dwelling. Bolts of lightning sparked in the sky. Some let out a loud crack, while others were silent.

Ominous-sounding thunder. She could hear loud neighs, whinnies, and moos as their livestock proceeded into the barn’s back entrance.

As she took in the healthy distance that needed covering fast, she straightened and let out a determined sigh before traversing the long stretch of jade-colored grass that her daed kept mowed short. She took quick, small steps, fully aware that her sturdy black shoes and her long navy dress weren’t conducive for running.

As she made her way to Blaze, she passed her summer garden, filled with produce that Anna would freeze for the winter. Bright red tomatoes. Red and green peppers. Green beans. Zucchini. Pumpkin plants.

Cucumber vines lined the ground like a map of the world. Tall stalks of corn stood in the back, accompanied by a row of large, yellow sunflowers. The wind moved the faux snake across the yard.

As Anna stepped around a dip in the lawn, she felt sorry for the plants. Because right now, they fought for survival against Mother Nature as they swayed back and forth and dipped helplessly with the wind. Anna hoped that their stems would be able to withstand the power of the storm that, by the sound of it, was only getting started.

The urgent noises of livestock competed with a loose shutter banging against the house. Metal pans tied throughout the garden to scare off birds made a light, tinny sound as they bumped one another.

As dirt blew into her eyes, she stopped for a moment to cover her face with her hands. She blinked at the sting and teared up. She blinked again, uncovered her eyes, and continued forward.

The fake owl perched on top of the clothesline post fell to the ground. From her peripheral vision, she glimpsed the empty dawdy house. Two brown and white goats skipped across the large backyard to the barn, where they entered with three chickens through the large front doors that had blown open.

Blaze clomped his right hoof and let out a loud whinny. Not long after, he repeated the action.

“I’m coming!”

As she got closer to the horse, she remembered that she’d left her satchel on the buggy, which was parked next to the house. Losing the satchel to the brewing storm didn’t worry her, but what was inside of it did. The newspaper clipping. But it would have to wait.

A rooster darted in front of her, and Anna made an abrupt stop to avoid tripping over it. The bird eventually made his way into the hen coop. As charcoal-gray clouds moved toward the west, a duo of light raindrops hit the back of her neck.

No rain yet, please. On both sides of her, purple coneheads dipped in the direction the wind blew them. Tin pans tied to wooden posts in the garden jumped up and down with the breeze, making a light sound as they met with the metal stakes they were attached to.

When she dropped the sides of her dress, she quickly yanked them up again to avoid tripping. Finally, she reached Blaze and untied him. “C’mon, Blaze. Let’s get you inside.” She grabbed his lead.

As she and the family horse approached the large, old structure, rain came down. First, at a light dose. Then, the volume increased.

She blinked open and closed to avoid getting dirt and debris in her eyes. As rain dampened her clothes, a chill swept up her spine, and she shivered, realizing how very cold it had gotten. Between the rain and the wind, it was becoming increasingly difficult to see. And to breathe.

Sounds of protest floated through the air. A loud chorus from the cattle eventually morphed into one solid sound, competing with whinnies from their field horses.

As they got closer, Blaze jerked his long, braun neck up. Anna struggled to catch her breath, but the wind was against her, and she still had quite a distance to cover.

She started to lose her balance and stopped for a moment. When a large bolt of lightning crackled, a downpour started, and Anna tasted dirt on her lips. Smelled it. Her eyes felt gritty, and the speed of the wind became so fierce, it took her kapp. “C’mon, boy. Let’s get inside.” She could feel her long mass of thick hair drop to her shoulders.

As Anna and Blaze hurried to the barn, all sounds became one: rain, thunder, the animal chorus, and her own breathing. It became so difficult to see, she held on tightly to the lead and slowed her pace, moving in the direction of the clanging of heavy doors being blown open and shut.

For a moment, the rain let up just enough for her to glimpse the barn. “C’mon, boy! We’re almost there!” Just then, something hit her with such great force, it knocked her down. Jagged ends of a heavy broken oak limb that had cracked in the middle stuck in the ground on both sides of her and pinned her entire body.

As she closed her eyes a moment, she tasted blood and realized it was coming from her forehead. I have to get Blaze inside and close the doors to protect the animals.

“Dear Lord, please keep us safe. Amen.”

The moment she whispered her prayer, there was an additional sound that she hadn’t noticed before. She heard the whinny of a new horse in the distance. Surely her parents hadn’t attempted to make it home from the bakery in this storm. When the clomp-clomping of hooves and another loud whinny sounded, Blaze responded with his own and made his way into the barn.

At that moment, the sky opened up even more and drenched her. Clumps of leaves covered her face as she tried to move the tree parts off of her. But it was impossible. Between the fierce wind and the heavy downpour, Anna struggled to get her breath.

She was drenched. She coughed. It was hard to believe that just a short time ago, she’d enjoyed the sun’s warm rays, which had beaten down on her face.

But now, thanks to the branch that pinned her, she couldn’t get up, and there was a severe pain in her head. Warm blood oozed from the place she’d been pierced. Yet even with her injury, all she could think about was getting to the barn and closing the doors so the animals would be safe from blowing debris. But would it happen?

It was Jesse Beiler’s first day of work for one of the owners of King’s Bakery. Never had he imagined that the morning would start like this. He’d pictured his initial task as having something to do in the large barn. Like sharpening tools. Or raking animal stalls. Or working in the hayloft. Or, best of all, farming the one hundred and some acres behind Paul King’s home.

But it was nothing of the sort. To his surprise, John King’s brother had assigned him the responsibility of ensuring that his only daughter was safe, which, to Jesse’s mind, was a far cry from farming.

But here he was, in the countryside of Arthur, Illinois. He leaned forward as Serene, his beloved Standardbred, which had been adopted from Dr. Jared Zimmerman, picked up speed, pulling him and his buggy down the desolate blacktop that led to the two-story dwelling of Paul King, his wife Naomi, and his only child, Anna. And according to the sky, the gusty wind, and the severe temperature drop, time was of the essence.

In the past half hour, Jesse had given his word that he’d ensure Anna was inside the house, safe and sound, from the unexpected storm. Now, he was second-guessing his promise.

When he’d committed, he hadn’t known that the storm would progress so quickly. Unfortunately, its unexpected nature hadn’t given him much time.

But he was almost there. The combination of fierce wind and rain made it difficult to see. Fortunately, he and Serene were familiar with the blacktop they traveled. And from where they were, it was a straight shot to their destination.

To his relief, the rain let up just long enough to offer enough time to check his whereabouts. A quick, clear glance at the familiar landscape told him that he was within close range of the King farm.

Even so, as the downpour restarted, Jesse was fully aware that the remaining half mile to the farm wouldn’t be easy. It was still late morning, yet the sky was as dark as it would be after sunset.

He straightened, praying to get there in time to make sure Anna was okay. As he said “Amen,” a large bolt of lightning charged the sky. To Jesse’s dismay, Serene reacted by rearing her front legs in the air.

“Whoa!”

Jesse gritted his teeth, still determined to keep his word. Although today was his first day as a farmhand, he and the Kings had been friends and fellow church members for years, and he couldn’t count the number of times they’d gotten together here.

So, the layout wasn’t a mystery. He knew where to find the garden, the house, and the large, old barn where Paul loved to spend time. The three made a triangle, with the garden nearest the road.

Still, despite the fact that Jesse knew their place like the back of his hand, what needed to be done wouldn’t be easy. Not in this storm. Thankful he was closer, he was fully aware that being outside in these conditions wasn’t safe. For him. Or Serene. As they headed up the long, dirt drive, flying debris filled the air.

“Whoa, girl.” The moment he reached the barn, he jumped off and quickly led Serene inside the building. As he did so, he heard a call for help.

Outside, he followed the sound of the voice. “I’m coming!”

Finally, he looked down at Anna, who was pinned to the ground by a large, broken oak limb.

Even as he asked, he could see she wasn’t all right. Her head was bleeding. “I’ll get you inside.” With all of his strength, he pulled the heavy limb that trapped her out of the ground, scooped her into his arms, and carried her inside the barn.

He could hear her soft, tired voice. “Jesse . . . How . . . how did you know? What are you doing here?”

He didn’t respond. Right now, he needed to get her to a safe place. Then he’d explain.

As he took quick steps, he held on to her tightly and focused on his footing as he searched for where she’d be most comfortable. It didn’t take long to decide on the best spot. Her arms encircled his waist. He could hear small coughs coming from her throat.

He stopped to catch his own breath. “You okay?”

The only response was a cough.

He eyed several bales of straw that touched the wall nearest the stalls. “I’ll put you down.” He bent, careful to support her neck. She wasn’t light, but she wasn’t heavy either.

Thunder rumbled as he frowned at the large gash on her forehead and the blood oozing from the injury.

“Jesse? What are you doing here?” Before he could answer, she went on. “I . . . I’m okay,” she said to the bishop’s son.

He frowned, fully aware that the first thing he had to do was to stop the flow of blood. He kneeled so he was eye-to-eye with her before glancing at the nearest wall. With one fluid motion, he made his way to a hook with a clean, oversize rag. As he returned to Anna and pressed the cloth gently against her forehead, a cold shiver swept up his spine.

A faint smile of appreciation lifted the corners of her lips as she met his gaze. “How did you know I needed help?”

Relief swept up his arms and landed in his shoulders. “Right now, I’m just glad you’re conscious.” He leaned over her, gently using the cotton to absorb the blood. “By the looks of your forehead, that limb hit you pretty hard. Just try to stay still while I stop the blood.”

For a moment, she closed her eyes. He bent so his face was near hers. With great care not to hurt her, he took strands of loose, jet-black hair and, using his most gentle, careful touch, pulled them, one by one, off her face.

He heard the cadence of her breathing change. “Ouch.”

He lowered the pitch of his voice so that it was barely more than a whisper. “Sorry.”

When she opened her eyes, it was impossible not to notice the mesmerizing jade color. The deep shade reminded him of a beautiful yard after a fresh mow.

Circumstances warranted their closeness. He’d never seen her with her hair down, and the fullness and beauty of the wet, jet-black waves took him by surprise.

He wasn’t sure why; he supposed it was just because he’d never seen Anna King without her kapp. Or any other girl who went to church with him, for that matter.

As he continued pulling her hair away from her face, he folded the rag and touched the dry side to her forehead. “It looks like you’ll need stitches.”

He pressed. She winced.

He gritted his teeth in agony. The last thing he wanted to do was put her in more pain than she already was. “Sorry. I don’t have much practice with this sort of thing.”

As she closed her eyes, he tried to keep her talking to make sure she stayed awake. Not sure what to ask, he said the first thing that came to his mind. “What’s your favorite color?”

When she opened her lids, he was quick to catch the expression of disbelief.

“Blue.” The corners of her lips lifted in amusement. “Like your eyes.”

As soon as she closed her lids again, he smiled a little in satisfaction. She’d always been spunky. And unafraid. But right now, her verbal reaction wasn’t all he sought.

He needed more evidence to convince him that she was okay. The gash on her forehead looked wicked, and the knot over it was growing. She might have a concussion.

“My next question will tell me whether or not . . .