The Amish Quiltmaker's Unlikely Match

Book 4: Amish Quiltmaker

by Jennifer Beckstrand

Genres: Christian Romance

Synopsis

Filled with her trademark humor and relatable characters, award-winning author Jennifer Beckstrand's blends quilting, matchmaking, and a close-knit Colorado community in her newest Amish Quiltmaker novel, as independent-minded quilter Esther Kiem sets her sights on an unusual match between the shyest Yoder sister and a professional baseball player…

Perfect for fans of Charlotte Hubbard, Wanda Brunstetter, and Linda Byler.

Though Mary Yoder longs to marry someday, she finds caring for her community’s injured and sick is much easier than courting. But when Englischer Clay Markham crashes his car nearby, Mary’s nursing shows her his hidden wounds are more painful than his injuries. Though she’s irresistibly drawn to his kind nature, can she risk letting him into her heart?

On the run from his troubled past, ex-pro baseball player Clay can’t believe the quiet sanctuary he’s found under Mary’s care. Her gentle faith and knowledge are somehow giving him hope he can change his life—and offer her the love she truly deserves. But when his secrets catch up with him, can he and Mary find the courage to face the truth, set things to rights . . . and make way for a future together?

Release date: January 23, 2024

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 272

Sample

“Help, help! Don’t eat me! Don’t eat me!”

Mary Yoder snapped her gaze out the window, and her heart did a somersault and two backflips. An elderly Englisch woman in a bright magenta parka and lemon-yellow pants ran toward the house with all four goats and the dog chasing after her. Ach, vell, she wasn’t exactly running. She looked too old to be able to muster any speed, but she was certainly shuffling her feet very rapidly in an attempt to escape the animals. “Dat!” Mary yelled. “There’s trouble out front.”

Mary didn’t wait to see if Dat had heard her. She sprinted outside, ran past the brightly colored Englisch woman, and waylaid the goats and the dog before they could catch up to the poor old lady. Mary shot out her hand and grabbed Pepper by the collar, then knelt down in the late October snow and corralled all four goats in her outspread arms. “Smiley, Blue, you should be ashamed of yourselves,” Mary cooed, “chasing a nice old lady like that. She’s a perfect stranger and never did you no harm.”

Pepper barked, but the goats just stared at Mary with innocent looks on their faces, as if they hadn’t been doing anything but following Pepper’s orders.

“They tried to eat me,” the Englisch woman said, who had managed to make it to the porch unmolested.

Mary turned to the old woman. Her frown looked as if it had been pounded into her face with a chisel, but her blue eyes were lively and intelligent, like someone much younger lived in her aged body. “They really are harmless,” Mary said. “And quite friendly. I’m sorry they frightened you.”

“I wasn’t frightened for myself. I was frightened for my wardrobe.” The old woman brushed her hands down the front of her blindingly bright pants. “These are brand new joggers. I had to special order them in yellow.”

“I’m froh they didn’t scare you.”

The woman grunted. “I don’t scare easy, but I do get mighty irritated at times.”

Mary patted Fluffy’s soft white head. “Goats like to explore things with their lips, sort of how babies put everything in their mouths at first. Your pants are safe from the goats.” But Mary couldn’t guarantee those yellow pants would be safe from bumblebees, wasps, or hummingbirds.

The woman frowned like a trout, but her eyes twinkled with amusement. “I guess a little goat saliva never hurt anybody.”

Mary giggled in relief. The woman wasn’t ferociously angry or wildly frightened. It wasn’t likely she’d die from a heart attack on the front porch.

Dat appeared from the side yard carrying a galvanized bucket. He glanced at the woman on the porch. “I heard a ruckus and thought you might need help.” He held out his hand for the dog. Mary released Pepper, and Pepper sprinted to Dat’s side. Dat was Pepper’s favorite person, and Pepper was Dat’s favorite person. The horse, Patty, was Dat’s second favorite person, and the goats were favorite persons three, four, five, and six. Dat liked animals much more than he liked people, and he loved Pepper most of all.

“All is well, Dat. Pepper was just making mischief, and the goats never seem to have anything better to do.”

He nodded. “Pepper never saw a person he didn’t want to bark at.” He patted Pepper’s head. “I know you’re making quilts today, and I have to mend some fences. I’ll stay out of your way.” Dat stared a little too long at the woman on the porch, probably wondering at her outfit choices, then gave her a friendly wave of his hand. “Have a nice day.”

Mary shooed the goats away. As expected, they followed Dat around the side of the house, trotting energetically as if there’d never been any trouble to begin with. Never a dull moment with four pygmy goats and an incorrigible dog living on your farm. Mary smiled at the woman. “Would you like to come in and have a drink?”

The woman nodded, shifting her huge purse from one shoulder to the other. “Just as soon as Esther catches up.”

Mary bloomed into a smile as she saw Esther Kiem climb out of the van parked in front of the house. Esther cradled her new baby in one arm while her other hand held tightly to her daughter Winnie’s wrist. “Esther!” Mary ran to her friend and grabbed the baby from her arms, burying her face in the folds of the buplie’s sweet-smelling neck. “Ach, Esther, he’s just adorable. Look at those cheeks.”

Esther laughed. “Only four weeks old and already a double chin.”

Mary smiled to herself. Esther had a habit of tucking strange things behind her ear for safekeeping, and today, just under her kapp, a baby binky hung from the top of her ear like a bucket hanging from a hook. Mary pointed to the binky. “That’s something I haven’t seen before.”

Esther curled one side of her mouth and fingered the binky at her ear. “Ach, I keep misplacing Levi Junior’s binkies. This way, I always know where at least one is.”

Even though Esther was six years older than Mary and married with a family of her own, she was one of Mary’s closest friends and one of the finest quilters in Colorado. Her quilting skill was the reason Mary had invited her over today. Winnie, Esther’s three-year-old daughter, skipped to the porch and wrapped her arms around the old woman’s yellow leg.

Esther pointed at the woman. “Mary, this is Cathy Larsen. She drives a lot of Byler Amish around town, and she’s also a master quilter. That’s why I asked her to come today.”

Cathy patted Winnie’s head. “I wasn’t thinking straight, or I would have got back in the car instead of letting those goats chase me around your yard. I think I pulled a hamstring.”

Mary drew her brows together. “Ach, I’m sorry. Come in the house and rest.”

Cathy waved away that suggestion. “I can rest when I’m dead. I came to talk quilting.”

Mary liked that idea. She opened the door and herded everyone into the great room. “Please sit. I’ll fetch the others.”

Mary quickly ran upstairs and stuck her head in Beth’s room. Beth, as usual, was lounging on her bed reading a book. “Beth, Esther is here to talk about our quilt.”

Beth didn’t even look up. “Okay, I’m coming.” Beth was the youngest of the Yoder schwesteren and the prettiest. At least Mary thought so. All three of her sisters were much prettier than Mary was, even though Great-grandmother Beulah kept insisting that Mary was the prettiest of them all and that she would have no trouble finding a husband. But such talk only made Mary anxious and unhappy. She panicked at the thought of even talking to a boy, and the pressure to be entertaining and charming enough to snag a husband made her heart race and her chest tighten. At twenty-eight years old, Mary hoped she was finally too old to attract attention from any boys in the district. She’d much rather spend her time caring for Dat; Dat’s dog, Pepper; their old horse, Patty; and the four goats that roamed their farm like stray cats.

Mary would gladly let her sisters attract all the attention and all the suitors. There was too much for Mary to do on the farm to spend any time caring about boys and romance and marriage.

Mary skipped downstairs to the kitchen where Joanna was just popping a pan into the oven. “I’ll be right in,” Joanna said, closing the oven door, then setting the timer. “I thought our guests might enjoy apiece of coffee cake while we chat.”

Mary nodded. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Everyone is happier with a full stomach.” She glanced at the clock. “How long do you think this will take? I don’t want to be difficult, but I need to make a batch of bread for our trip tomorrow.”

“It depends on how long it takes you to pick which quilt block you want to make.”

Joanna’s eyes danced. “I can be very quick when I have to be. It’s you I worry about. You’ve never made a decision that you didn’t overthink.”

“I know, but I think I’ve already picked the one I want.”

Joanna’s eyes flashed with a tease. “You think you’ve already picked one?”

Mary giggled. “I think I have.”

Joanna put her arm around Mary. “Have you thought about coming with us tomorrow? We hate to go without you.”

Mary’s three schwesteren were going to Iowa tomorrow for Cousin Lily’s wedding. Mary and Dat were staying home. Dat was staying home because he didn’t want to leave the animals and he didn’t want to face Aunt Gloria, and Mary was staying home because she didn’t want to see Cousin Peter. She sighed. “I’ve already over-thought this one. I’m staying.”

Joanna was just younger than Mary, twenty-six, and as fresh as a daisy, as Mammi Beulah always described her. Joanna smiled constantly and was always planning a practical joke to play on someone. She had beautiful chestnut-brown hair that was unmanageably curly, and there was always a spiral lock or two peeking out from under her kapp. Joanna had already been proposed to four times. Her beauty and her cooking skills attracted the boys like honey attracted bees. But Joanna was also very particular—about her cooking and her suitors—and she had confided to Mary that she didn’t think she’d ever find a man who lived up to her standards. She’d much rather stay single than settle for just anyone.

Joanna poured some milk into a saucepan and set it on the stove. “I’ll make up a quick batch of hot chocolate. Nothing warms the heart like chocolate.”

Mary donned her coat and went out the back door in search of her oldest schwester, Ada, whom she found in the barn mucking out. Ada wore a thick wool kerchief on her head in place of her kapp, her black work coat, and a pair of brown woolen mittens. Two of the goats, Blue and Apple, were playing in the barn and keeping Ada company.

Ada tapped the manure fork on the floor to remove the straw. “Are they here?”

Mary curled her fingers over the stall door. “Jah. Can you come?”

“Almost done.” Ada stabbed at a clump of straw. “Did you invite them in and hang up their coats?”

“Jah and nae. I haven’t hung up their coats yet.”

“We should have Joanna whip up a batch of cookies, and have you warned Beth not to complain in front of our guests?”

“Beth is Beth. I’m not responsible for her behavior, and Joanna already has a coffee cake in the oven.” Mary quickly turned and walked away before Ada could give her any more instructions. Ada liked being in charge, even though the other schwesteren were perfectly capable of being in charge of themselves. Mary sighed. She loved Ada with her whole heart, and more than anything, Ada wanted to feel needed. If bossing her sisters around brought Ada that much joy, then Mary saw no harm in letting Ada be the boss.

Mary went back into the great room where Beth and Joanna were chatting with Esther and Cathy Larsen. Without any help from Mary, both visitors had managed to get their own coats hung on the hook by the door. Mary sat next to Esther and pulled Esther’s daughter, Winnie, onto her lap.

Cathy reached into her massive purse and pulled out three books. “I brought my favorite quilt pattern books for you to look through. What kind of quilt do you want to make?”

Joanna held the ticking kitchen timer in her hand. She was very serious about her baked goods and refused to let a cake bake for one minute longer than was appropriate. “We want to make a sampler quilt for Great-grandmother Beulah to celebrate her one-hundredth birthday.” She pointed to Mary. “It was Mary’s idea. We’re each going to pick a particular quilt block for the quilt.”

Cathy got a funny look on her face. “I don’t mean to offend you, but you didn’t think this through very well. It’s a nice idea, but there are only four of you. That’s a terribly small quilt.”

“We want to make a quilt with four sections. Nine of each block sewn together. Like four smaller quilts put together in one quilt top.”

Cathy frowned and nodded. “That has potential.”

Mary couldn’t decide if Cathy thought it was a gute idea or if she was just being polite. “Is . . . is that . . . will it look nice?”

Esther patted Mary’s knee. “It will be darling. We could also try putting the individual blocks in a pattern over the entire quilt. What do you think about that, Cathy?”

“That’s a bad idea,” Cathy said, and Mary nearly laughed out loud. Cathy was obviously not inclined to be diplomatic.

Esther didn’t seem offended in the least. “We can experiment with patterns after the blocks are finished.”

Cathy pursed her lips. “I suppose.” She opened one of the quilt pattern books and slid on her glasses, which dangled from a chain of chunky beads around her neck. “This book has five hundred of the most popular quilt blocks. Unless you’re picky, you should be able to find a block you like.”

Ada marched into the great room and plopped down on the sofa right next to Cathy. “I’m sorry I’m late. I had to finish mucking out. What did I miss?”

“Ada, this is Cathy Larsen,” Mary said. “She’s going to help us with the quilt we’re making for Mammi Beulah.”

Ada nodded at Cathy. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for helping us with our quilt.”

Cathy peered over her glasses. “You’re welcome, and I’m dependable as long as I don’t get the flu or a bladder infection. I’m completely useless with a bladder infection.”

Mary wasn’t quite sure what a bladder infection had to do with quilting, but she was too polite to ask. “Have you tried baking soda?”

Cathy cocked an eyebrow. “For the flu?”

Esther handed Beth one of the pattern books. “Why don’t you start looking through this and see if there’s a pattern that catches your eye.”

Beth nodded and leafed through the book with little interest. She was not excited about Mary’s quilt idea because she’d never had the patience for quilting or handwork.

Ada looked over Cathy’s shoulder while Cathy pointed out her favorite quilt blocks. Mary picked up the third book and offered it to Joanna. Joanna shook her head. “I already know what block I want to make for Grossmammi Beulah. I love to bake desserts, so I thought the Sugar Bowl quilt block would be fun.”

Esther nodded enthusiastically. “That is a darling block, perfect for you.”

Cathy thumbed through her book, found the page, and held the book up for everyone to see. The Sugar Bowl block was a series of triangles arranged to look like a basket with a handle. Cute and sort of tricky. “Sugar Bowl has lots of small pieces and corners to match,” Cathy said. “Are you sure you’re up to it? I won’t stand for unmatched corners.”

Joanna scrunched her lips to one side of her face. “I’ve always been careful with my corners.”

Cathy narrowed her eyes. “I believe you, but be sure not to get overconfident. Overconfidence is a quilter’s downfall.” She scratched her head. “Actually, now that I think about it, arthritis is a quilter’s downfall.” She shook her finger in Joanna’s direction. “Don’t ever get arthritis. You’ll immediately regret it.”

Joanna’s timer dinged, and Joanna jumped up to get her coffee cake from the oven. “I’ll be right back.”

Beth landed on a page toward the back of her book. “I want to do this one. Grandmother’s Flower Garden, since this quilt is for Grossmammi Beulah.”

Esther glanced doubtfully at Mary. Then Mary and Ada exchanged looks.

Ada shook her head. “That is one of the hardest quilt blocks to make, Beth. You should choose something easier like a nine-patch.”

Beth lifted her chin. “You don’t think I can do it.”

Ada sighed. “I never said that.”

“You don’t think I’m good at anything.”

Ada sighed louder. “I never said that either. You don’t like to quilt, Beth. Why would you choose a hard block to sew?”

Beth turned her face away. “Because it’s cute, and I want to do it, and you’ll see I’m not as incapable as you think I am.”

“I never said that,” Ada murmured through gritted teeth.

Cathy eyed Beth for a few seconds. “That’s a lot of corners. I have no patience for unmatched corners.”

Beth folded her arms around her waist. “I’ll do a good job.”

Cathy huffed out a breath. “I like your determination, even if it’s completely misguided. If you’re willing to try Grandma’s Flower Garden, I’m willing to help, as long as my gout doesn’t act up. Gout is a quilter’s downfall.”

Beth seemed pleased. She closed the pattern book and handed it to Mary. “Choose one, Mary.”

Joanna came back with a tray of mugs and handed them out. “Hot chocolate for a cold day. I put a little extra milk in Winnie’s so it wouldn’t be so hot.”

“Denki,” Esther said, motioning for Winnie to sit next to her on the hearth. “Use both hands, Winnie, so you don’t spill.”

Joanna left again and came back with a tray of coffee cake cut into squares.

“This smells heavenly,” Esther said.

Joanna smiled. “It’s one of my favorite recipes. You can never have too many chocolate chips.”

Cathy set her mug and her piece of cake on the table and continued thumbing through her book. Ada stopped her on one of the pages. “Wait. I like this one. It almost looks like it’s moving.”

Uncertainty traveled across Cathy’s face. “It has a lot of corners.”

Esther laughed. “Cathy, they all have lots of corners. They’re going to do fine.”

Cathy’s frown was so deep it practically scraped against her chin. “I suppose.”

“I like it,” Ada said. “It doesn’t look too hard.”

Cathy pressed her lips together. “It’s not the corners necessarily that concern me.” She tapped her finger on the page. “Do you see the name of this one?”

Ada’s gaze traveled down the page. “Bachelor’s Puzzle.”

Cathy leaned back, her eyebrows traveling up her forehead. “You know what they say about that.”

Ada paused and looked to Joanna and Mary for help. “Um, no. What do they say?”

Cathy lowered her voice as if sharing a shocking secret. “There’s a little magic in every stitch you sew into a quilt block.”

Beth took a sip of hot chocolate. “The Amish don’t believe in magic.”

“Then call it superstition, and don’t tell me you Amish aren’t superstitious. I’ve heard plenty of talk about charming warts and burning eggshells.” Cathy eyed Ada. “Every quilt you make has a little bit of magic in it. Don’t be surprised if you start meeting all sorts of bachelors once you finish your blocks.”

Ada sputtered with laughter. “I’m not superstitious, Cathy. It’s only a name. Nothing magic about it. It certainly doesn’t have anything to do with real life.”

Cathy shrugged. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

Mary didn’t believe in such hogwash, but just the same, she was reluctant to mention the name of the quilt block she wanted to make.

Unfortunately, Cathy was too curious. “Have you chosen your quilt block, Mary? I’ll try not to get upset about the number of corners it has.”

Mary swallowed hard and nodded. “I want to do Drunkard’s Path. It’s tricky, but I think Mammi Beulah will love the pattern.”

Cathy’s eyes widened, and she looked as if Mary had just announced she was joining the circus. “That will never do. Corners are hard, but curves give me a headache. Nobody ever gets them right.”

Esther turned to Drunkard’s Path in her quilting book. “Mary is a wonderful-gute quilter. I don’t wonder but she’ll do very well with the curves.” She showed everyone a picture of a quilt made up of Drunkard’s Path quilt blocks. “Look how delightful this looks.”

Cathy didn’t look the least bit convinced or impressed.

“I like a challenge,” Mary said. “And you don’t need to worry. I’ve done curves before. I once made a Flowering Snowball quilt for the church auction.”

Cathy pushed her glasses up her nose. “Of course I’m worried. Did you hear anything I just told Ada? Mark my words, if you go through with this crazy plan, I’ll start getting migraines and you’ll start hanging out at bars.”

Cathy seemed so concerned and so earnest, Mary nearly burst into laughter. She valiantly curbed her amusement. “Please don’t worry about any such thing. As a general rule, the Amish don’t drink, and I don’t plan on starting, no matter how frustrating my curves are.”

Cathy raised her hands in surrender. “I’ve said my peace, and it’s obvious I can’t convince you otherwise. I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t choose Wild Goose Chase or Bear’s Paw or Rocky Road to California. Those would definitely get you into all sorts of trouble.” Her expression softened into something a little less hard than granite. “If you all can manage to make your corners match, it’s going to be a fine quilt.” She snapped the quilt book shut. “Just remember what I told you. Every quilt has little magic stitched into it. You’ll see it if you’re watching for it.”

Mary sho. . .