New Beginnings at Promise Lodge

Book 4: Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

Genres: Amish & Mennonite; Christian Romance; Romance

Synopsis

Spring blossoms with new life and new beginnings for the flourishing Amish community of Promise Lodge. And as a just-opened bakery sweetens the air with fresh-baked goodness, residents will find that change can be a most joyous test....

Recently widowed after twenty years of marriage, Frances Lehman is only just tasting the freedom and opportunity that her Promise Lodge friends enjoy. So she's not about to be pressured into marriage by her widowed brother-in-law, even if she and her daughter have no real means of support. Much more promising is her new friendship with Preacher Marlin Kurtz, though their respective families don't see their relationship as proper....

When Frances suffers a serious injury, she's determined to prove she can recover — and remain independent — without burdening Marlin. Now, with his steadfast belief in real love tested, Marlin's hope is that Promise Lodge's irrepressible residents can help him restore Frances's joy — and that faith will show them a way to turn their fragile second chance into a blessed and abiding future together.

Release date: September 24, 2019

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 326

Sample

Dressed in her Sunday-best black dress, Frances Lehman strode along the road to the lodge building. It was a picture-perfect April day, complete with sunshine that shimmered on Rainbow Lake, a sky the color of morning glories, and the sweet scent of lilacs filling the air—exactly the kind of day Rosetta Bender and Truman Wickey deserved for their long-awaited wedding. Every marriage ceremony was a joyful event, but this wedding marked a turning point: because Bishop Monroe Burkholder and the preachers had agreed that Amish and Mennonites could intermarry, Promise Lodge would be considered far more progressive than most Old Order church districts.

Frances was pleased to belong to this community. It had been settled only a year ago when Rosetta and her two older sisters had purchased an abandoned church camp and transformed it into a new Plain settlement. Even though she’d lost her husband, Floyd, a month ago, Frances felt hopeful and at peace in this place, where spousal abuse wasn’t tolerated and women had unusual freedom to run businesses—to determine how they’d live their lives. Maybe it was the warmth in the springtime air, but Frances couldn’t help walking with more spring in her step. Living among women who had such positive, can-do attitudes was a balm to her lonely soul.

“Frances, wait up!” a familiar voice called out behind her. “I thought we were attending the wedding together.”

Suppressing a sigh, Frances slowed her pace—but only a little. Her brother-in-law, Lester Lehman, had lost his wife and son the week before Floyd had passed, so he deserved her patience and sympathy. But he was such a wet blanket. His presence—and his constant hangdog expression—never failed to bring her down.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately,” Lester was saying as he caught up to her. “As the male of the Lehman family, it’s only right that I take care of you and Gloria. It’s just plain silly for you and me to roll around like BBs in boxcars, living in two separate houses—”

Frances closed her eyes, half afraid of what he’d say next.

“—so why don’t I move into that back bedroom at your place?” Lester continued earnestly. “The siding and window business Floyd and I started here is going great guns, so you’ll want for nothing, Frances.”

Her eyes flew open in dismay. What was Lester thinking, suggesting that they live together without being married? It was one thing for him to come over for meals with her and her daughter, Gloria, several times a week—and she’d washed his clothes and cleaned his house a couple of times, too. Any decent woman would do such basic housekeeping tasks for a brother-in-law who’d lost his wife.

No matter how progressive we’ve become at Promise Lodge, however, I can’t believe our leaders will allow unmarried men and women to live together—thank goodness, Frances mused. What chance would I ever have at happiness with Lester living in my home, casting a constant shadow over me?

An uneasy silence stretched between them as Frances tried desperately to come up with a no that didn’t sound harsh and heartless. As they passed Preacher Amos and Mattie Troyer’s house, the lodge came into view ahead of them. Several folks were entering the rustic, timbered building, talking excitedly as they anticipated a day of celebration, but none of them could rescue her from this difficult situation. The men would encourage Lester to marry her—a man needed a wife to run his household, after all. The women would probably sympathize with her, but their opinions wouldn’t dissuade Lester from trying to court her and tie the knot.

“I thought you’d show a little more enthusiasm, Frances,” Lester muttered. “It’s time to talk about being practical by—”

“You’re doing the talking, Lester,” she blurted out.

Lester frowned. He was a handsome man with a full head of dark hair, and for most of the years she’d known him, he’d been pleasant and cheerful. But his wife’s passing had beaten him down. He needed time to grieve, because he’d also lost his son—not to mention Floyd, his brother and business partner—which had taken a huge emotional toll, as well. The downward lines on Lester’s face were etched so deeply that Frances wondered if he’d completely lost his ability to smile.

“I’m only doing what Floyd would’ve wanted,” he protested. “You can’t tell me you enjoy being alone, now that he’s gone.”

“With Gloria around, I never lack for company or entertainment,” Frances pointed out, hoping to change the subject. “If she’s not baking something to impress Allen Troyer—and probably burning it, bless her heart—she’s dreaming up other ways to get his attention. Are you sure you want to deal with her romantic fantasies, and her fear of ending up a maidel?” she teased.

“I raised a couple of girls, you know,” Lester reminded her gruffly. “Gloria needs a father figure to tell her what a husband is really interested in—and to see that she spends her time preparing to be a wife instead of flitting around and flirting.”

Frances looked away, her heart sinking further. At twenty-three, with a mind of her own, Gloria wouldn’t take kindly to Lester’s advice. In January Frances’s younger daughter, Mary Kate, had married Roman Schwartz, whom Gloria had already set her heart upon, so Gloria was determined to marry Allen despite his protests that he wasn’t interested in her. Life with her older daughter was an emotional roller-coaster ride, and Frances doubted that Lester’s presence would improve that situation.

“I know you mean well, Lester,” she began, “but maybe it would be best to reconsider—or to wait awhile before you—”

“Wait for what?” Lester cut in. “You need a man to tend your stable chores and pay your bills and fix things around the house. It doesn’t make sense for both of us to maintain homes—”

“Gut morning, folks!” a cheerful voice called out behind them. “Can’t stop to visit—sorry! I’m running late for the preachers’ meeting before church.”

Frances turned to see Preacher Marlin Kurtz approaching at a jog. As he caught up to them, he waved and kept going. “Gut morning, Marlin,” she said. “It’s a beautiful day for a wedding!”

“It’s a blessed day for all of us!” he called back over his shoulder.

Frances smiled at the preacher’s enthusiastic response. When Marlin had arrived at Promise Lodge with his family for a fresh start after losing his wife, he’d agreed to serve as the deacon—and to preach occasionally—because their church district already had two preachers, Amos Troyer and Eli Peterscheim. Marlin manufactured barrels in a small factory he’d built beside the home he shared with his son and daughter-in-law. The Kurtz family had been a welcome addition to the Promise Lodge community.

“Well, we might be blessed but that doesn’t mean we’re happy,” Lester remarked sourly as he followed Marlin’s progress toward the lodge. “You and I aren’t finished discussing my idea, Frances. It’s my earnest prayer that you’ll come to see reason sooner rather than later, so we can both get on with our lives.”

With that, Lester strode off toward a group of men who’d gathered on the lodge’s front porch, leaving Frances to gape after him.

I’m getting on with my life pretty well, all things considered, she thought. The last thing Gloria and I need is a storm cloud taking up residence in our home, spoiling our springtime.

Marlin smiled at the congregation, gathering the thoughts that would conclude his sermon and the church service that preceded the wedding ceremony. Several families from the Mennonite church the Wickeys attended in Cloverdale had joined them, along with folks from Coldstream, where Rosetta and her sisters had lived previously, so the twelve new pew benches he and Preacher Amos had built for the occasion had come in handy.

“It’s a joy to see so many of you here to celebrate Rosetta and Truman’s marriage—and it’s a momentous occasion for Promise Lodge,” Marlin said as folks nodded their agreement. “Because Bishop Monroe has been willing to consider that God’s love for us is bigger than any rules established by our forefathers in the Old Order, we’re progressing into a new era—a new understanding of what it means to be people of faith in today’s world, even as we honor our traditional beliefs.”

Marlin gazed at the bride, who beamed at him from the front row of the women’s side, gripping the hands of her sisters, Christine and Mattie. “Rosetta, one of the first things I admired about you when I came here was your way of planning for happiness,” he continued. “You understand that happiness doesn’t just happen—it’s a conscious choice we make dozens of times each day. Your marriage to Truman is a shining example of what’s possible when we plan for the best rather than accepting the limitations of the past or shying away from a future that rocks the boat.”

Rosetta’s smile rivaled the sun as she nodded—and then gazed at Truman, who sat directly across from her on the men’s side. He appeared so happy and so deeply in love that Marlin envied him. He’d felt the same way when he’d married his Essie nearly twenty-five years ago.

“I wish you two all the best as you become one,” Marlin concluded. “May God’s grace bless you all the days of your life together.”

As Marlin returned to the preachers’ bench, Bishop Monroe rose to address the congregation. “It’s my special pleasure to welcome Zachary Miller from the Mennonite Fellowship in Cloverdale to share his message before Truman and Rosetta exchange their vows,” he said, gesturing toward the guest preacher. “We’re pleased to welcome all of you folks to our celebration today.”

Marlin settled on the wooden bench beside Amos Troyer and Eli Peterscheim, who nodded at him to acknowledge his sermon. He was always pleased to take a turn at preaching, because the two men beside him—as well as Monroe—could have insisted that he stick to minding the district’s money and reading the Scriptures. Weddings were a special treat, a time when people came together for an entire day to celebrate a couple’s love as a reflection of God’s love. This was the first wedding sermon he’d given since Essie’s passing, and the flow of God’s inspiration as he spoke had lifted him above missing her so badly, like the wings of a snow-white dove.

In the past few months, Noah Schwartz had married Deborah Peterscheim, and Mary Kate Lehman had married Roman Schwartz—a positive sign for the future because these young couples had new homes and were starting families at Promise Lodge. In addition, Preacher Amos had married Mattie Schwartz—his childhood sweetheart—and Bishop Monroe had married her sister Christine after falling in love at first sight. Marlin saw these second marriages as an indication that midlife could bring a chance for new happiness these folks hadn’t foreseen when they’d come to the tiny town of Promise, Missouri, to start fresh.

As Zachary delivered his message about the ups and downs of marriage with occasional twists of humor, Marlin noted the happy expressions on the faces in the congregation. Despite how hard they’d worked to turn an abandoned church camp into a new Plain community and reestablish their businesses, the people of Promise Lodge exuded such a positive energy—

But Frances Lehman looked like she’d cut into an onion. Was she on the verge of tears because the wedding was making her miss her deceased husband, Floyd?

Or is she upset because Lester was lecturing her about how she needs a man—presumably him—in her life?

Marlin considered this. Overall, Frances had been handling her grief quite well during the past month. She’d helped prepare the food for Rosetta and Truman’s wedding dinner. She crocheted with other ladies at the lodge, and she hadn’t missed any church services—even though she’d sometimes appeared subdued and caught up in her own thoughts. That was only natural as she became the head of the household and took on tasks Floyd had always handled.

Marlin thought some more. What had Lester been saying as he’d jogged past, on his way to the preachers’ meeting? Something about doing the stable chores and fixing things around Frances’s house.

What would need fixing in a house that’s only a few months old? Marlin wondered. And Frances only has a couple of buggy horses, which her son-in-law, Roman, has been tending.

Trying not to be obvious about it, Marlin looked at Frances. He suspected that Lester’s tone of voice had seemed heavy-handed to her, and that she probably wasn’t ready to consider taking another husband. Although it was customary for Amish men to look after the single and widowed women in their families—and it wasn’t unusual for in-laws to marry after they’d lost their spouses—he could understand why Frances wasn’t responding well to Lester’s remarks.

When Lester enters a room, he sucks the joy right out of it.

Marlin blinked at this unexpectedly harsh thought. He liked Lester—a lot—but it was a sad fact that Bishop Floyd’s brother wasn’t handling the loss of his wife nearly as well as Frances was bearing up after her husband had passed. Delores Lehman and their son had died in a nasty traffic accident only a month ago, so Lester had a lot of grieving to do yet. A lot of memories to deal with.

Marlin had often seen this situation when the wife died first. Most men weren’t prepared to cook, wash clothes, or manage other household functions, and as the business of daily living overwhelmed them, they became crankier and more depressed.

There but for the grace of God—and sharing a home with Harley and Minerva—I would have gone, Marlin acknowledged, thinking fondly of his son and daughter-in-law . Lowell and Fannie are blessings, too, because they make me laugh. His younger son and daughter certainly kept him on his toes as a parent.

Lester’s two daughters, on the other hand, had recently married and remained in Sugarcreek, Ohio. Despite his girls insisting that he should live near them, Lester had returned to the new house he’d built for Delores at Promise Lodge. It had to be hard, waking up each day to see the furnishings from their house in Ohio—bleak reminders of his loss. Lester had no one to talk to at home, no one to love. If it hadn’t been for Truman’s finding him long-term siding and window work at the housing project he was landscaping, Lester would be even more emotionally adrift.

Marlin glanced at Frances again. As sorry as he felt for Lester, he could certainly understand why Frances didn’t want to take up with her brother-in-law. Lester’s gloomy presence was enough to depress anybody.

So talk to her about it. Be the light, like you’re always preaching. If anyone needs a friend, it’s Frances—and Lester, of course, he added quickly.

He shifted on the wooden bench, suddenly enthusiastic about spending time with Frances. His barrel-making business had kept him indoors a lot recently, fulfilling orders for rain barrels, and the half barrels folks used for planting flowers, and decorative barrels with checkerboards on top, so he was due for some time outside. It was a beautiful spring day, with the lilac bushes in bloom and a cloudless blue sky that shimmered with sunshine. Surely he and Frances would both benefit from walking in the fresh air—nothing romantic, because he wasn’t looking for another wife, and he didn’t want Frances to think he was.

If she’s out for a walk, she won’t spend the rest of the day washing dishes!

Marlin nearly laughed out loud, anticipating the smile he’d bring to Frances’s face when he rescued her from yet another afternoon of kitchen duty. She helped the other women willingly, of course, but the ladies had cooked and cleaned up for several recent weddings—and everyone benefited from a break in routine now and then.

He focused on the sermon Zachary Miller was bringing to its conclusion. If he planned for some happiness, who knew what might happen? Joy was like skimming pebbles across a pond: once a pebble splashed happily on the surface before it sank, the ripples would spread deeper and wider than the eye could see.

But you have to pick up the pebbles. You have to be the initiator, with a positive, joyful intention, or you’ll just be throwing rocks.

Frances sat up straighter, determined to share Rosetta and Truman’s joy as they repeated their vows—because it was a waste of her time to brood about her overbearing brother-in-law. Rosetta looked radiant in her beautiful blue dress and the special white apron Truman’s mamm, Irene, had sewn for her. What with milking her goats, making soap to sell, and managing the apartments in the lodge and the cabins behind it, Rosetta was usually up to her elbows in work. It was wonderful to see her beaming at Truman as though he was the only other person in the room—or in the world.

To Frances, it seemed like only yesterday that she’d been standing in front of a bishop with a young, vibrant Floyd Lehman. Even before he’d become a preacher and then a bishop at a younger age than most men were called to serve, he’d been decisive and outspoken—a man who knew what he believed, and who could persuade others to follow the light of Christ, as well.

The years had flown by and their lives had been filled with two daughters who’d brought much love and many challenges into their marriage. Even after the unthinkable had happened to Mary Kate, leaving her pregnant by the English stranger who’d attacked her in a ditch by the road, Floyd had prevailed over their tragedy: he’d moved them to Promise Lodge so Mary Kate could escape the gossip and stigma that would’ve come with raising a child out of wedlock in their very conservative Ohio church district.

You took better care of us than you did of yourself, dear man, Frances mused as she glanced at Amos Troyer on the preachers’ bench. When Amos had been fetching a Frisbee from the roof of the barn beside Rainbow Lake, the corner of the building had collapsed—and Floyd had rushed over to break Amos’s fall. Both men had been hospitalized and wheelchair-bound . . . but Amos had taken physical therapy while Floyd had insisted that God was the only doctor he needed. A stroke had weakened him further, and from there, he’d simply faded away.

But you followed God’s plan as He revealed it to you, Floyd. You stayed true to your convictions—and to your family.

Frances smiled. Floyd’s convictions had sometimes rubbed her—and the other women here—the wrong way, but now that he was gone, she chose not to dwell on his stubbornness or his insistence that women were to be subservient to their men. When she thought of Floyd, she sensed his presence—as though his arms were wrapped around her, supporting and encouraging her—so she didn’t feel so alone. His spirit had helped her through a lot of desperate moments and sleepless nights as she’d thought about how she and Gloria would handle their finances without any income in their foreseeable future.

Lord, I hope you’ll grant Rosetta and Truman as much love and joy as you gave to Floyd and me, she prayed, dismissing her thoughts about money. You obviously created them to be together, and we’re so blessed that Bishop Monroe has allowed interfaith marriages at Promise Lodge.

Her heart thrummed as Rosetta’s voice rang confidently, repeating the age-old vows after Bishop Monroe. Truman’s handsome face was alight with love as he, too, spoke the words that would bind them in holy matrimony.

Moments later, the bishop beamed out over the congregation. “Truman and Rosetta, I pronounce you husband and wife,” he proclaimed. “Every one of us in this room wishes you all the best of the love and grace God can grant you, for all the days of your life together.”

Frances rose to her feet with the women around her, beaming at the newlyweds. Beside her, Beulah Kuhn and her sister, Ruby, let out contented sighs.

“They’re married, at last!” Beulah said. “I was a little worried when that misunderstanding about Maria came between them.”

“Jah, but Truman’s a gut man and he worked it out,” Ruby put in with a nod. “The way I hear it, Maria’s new bakery in Cloverdale is going like gangbusters—and we’d best get into the kitchen like gangbusters and put out the food for this huge crowd!”

“I’m right behind you,” Frances said as she sidled out of the pew row with them. As Mennonites, the Kuhn sisters were wearing colorful floral-print dresses—and as maidels, they rented lodge apartments from Rosetta. Frances suspected that the outspoken sisters had pointed out to blond, blue-eyed Maria that her flirtatious ways with Truman were inappropriate—and that Rosetta had called off the wedding earlier in the spring because of her. Ruby and Beulah were good-hearted ladies and wonderful cooks, beloved by all at Promise Lodge.

As Frances passed through the lodge’s large dining room, she noted the pretty white tablecloths on the long tables. Mason jars with stalks of celery sat in the center of each table, a traditional Amish wedding centerpiece—except the Kuhns had added sprigs of fresh lilac blossoms as a way to celebrate this wedding that broke with Old Order tradition. The dessert table was spread with cut pies and cookie trays. Two tall chocolate wedding cakes with mocha frosting sat on stands behind the raised eck table in the corner, where the wedding party would eat. Ruby had made them double layered and triple tiered so they would provide enough cake for everyone. To the Kuhns, the ultimate sin was running short of food.

Frances inhaled deeply as she entered the kitchen along with Christine’s daughters, Laura and Phoebe Hershberger. “Oh my, but the turkey smells gut,” she said to the younger women. “It’s nice that your mamm and your aunt Mattie get the day off from kitchen duty to be in the wedding party.”

“Jah, but look at all of us next-generation helpers,” Laura said, gesturing at the others who were streaming into the kitchen. “What with your Gloria and Mary Kate, and Lily Peterscheim and her sister Deborah, and Minerva and Fannie Kurtz, and the Helmuth twins, we’ll get this job done!”

“Ruby and Beulah have this meal so well organized, all we have to do is set the pans in the steam table and keep them replenished,” Phoebe pointed out. “Our wedding meals run a lot more smoothly because we can serve them in the lodge building, too.”

“You’ve got that right,” Beulah said. She opened an oven and began taking out large stainless-steel pans of food. “Working in a kitchen that was designed to feed a couple hundred campers—and serving the food buffet-style in a big dining room—is a lot easier than fixing a wedding meal in a family home.”

“You sisters could start up a business, catering Plain weddings,” Minerva teased as she removed lids from the big pans. “You’ve got it down to a fine art.”

Ruby waved her off. “The last thing we need is another business to run. My bees are in full buzz now that the flowers and apple trees are blooming, which eventually means more honey to bottle and sell—”

“And we can barely keep up with orders at our cheese factory,” Beulah put in. “The Helmuths’ new nursery has made a lot more customers aware that we have fresh cheese made from Christine’s cows’ milk and Rosetta’s goats’ milk.”

Frances nodded, along with the other ladies who were bustling around the kitchen. She was plea. . .