What the Heart Wants

Book 3: Amish New World

by Virginia Wise

Genres: Historical Fiction

Synopsis

In this latest novel in Virginia Wise's enthralling historical saga about America's first Amish settlement, two devoted sisters forge ahead in a difficult new world—only to find that love is a thrilling discovery of its own . . .



Outgoing and irrepressible, young Christina has her choice of suitors. But she and her practical-minded older sister, Hilda, have built a thriving life in the rugged Pennsylvania backcountry. Hilda has given up her marriage dreams as foolish—and Christina vows she'll never marry until she finds her sister a husband. So when two handsome newcomers arrive, Christina engages in a bit of secret matchmaking—with disastrous results . . .



Johan is used to hard work and overcoming obstacles. He's instantly drawn to Christina's lively nature—and agrees with her that his serious brother, Wilhelm, would be perfect for Hilda. But Christina's selfless schemes are keeping her from seeing how much Johan really cares for her. And between mishaps, mistakes, and an unintentional masquerade, Christina and Johan will need to search their hearts to understand themselves, set things right—and embark on a future together . . .

Release date: December 29, 2020

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

The cabin felt snug and warm as the sun slipped below the tree line. The sheep were safe in their pen for the night, and a fire flickered in the hearth. Christina and Hilda sat with their sewing as the evening shadows lengthened across the hard-packed dirt floor.

“New Canaan feels so isolated compared to the German countryside,” Christina said as she ripped out a misplaced stitch. “Have you adjusted to the quiet?”

“I’ve always enjoyed the quiet,” her sister, Hilda, answered. She smiled, but did not look up from her work.

“That’s because you don’t like to be interrupted.”

Hilda laughed. “You are interrupting me, you know.”

Christina grinned. “I know. But we ought to take a break.”

“I’ll have this bodice resized by the morrow if I maintain my pace.”

“I feel as if we’ve been sitting here for hours.” Christina rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on sewing an even stitch.

“We’ve only just sat down.”

“Oh?”

Hilda shook her head as she pushed her needle through the linsey-woolsey fabric.

Christina sighed and set down her needle and thread. “Don’t you ever feel like something’s missing? It’s so . . .” She waved her hand from one side of the room to the other. “. . . quiet.”

“Yes. You mentioned that. And I mentioned that I—”

“Like the quiet,” Christina interrupted. “I know.”

Hilda smiled. “I get more done this way.”

Christina sighed again. “You mentioned that too.”

Hilda nodded, but kept her eyes on her sewing.

“Don’t you ever feel as if you need an adventure?”

“An adventure? Heavens no. We’ve had adventure enough traipsing through the wilderness and setting up a home here, in the middle of nowhere. New Canaan is a wonderful good settlement, but when I think of the dangers, it sends a shiver down my spine, let me tell you. I really—”

“But there’s still one adventure that we’ve not yet had,” Christina said.

“Making a home in the backcountry, protecting our sheep from the wolves and goodness knows what else, making meals from whatever we can get our hands on—that’s not adventure enough?” Hilda furrowed her brow as she pulled a length of thread through the fabric. “It keeps me busy enough, anyway.”

“Oh, Hilda, you know exactly what adventure I mean.”

“I most certainly do not.”

Christina raised an eyebrow. Her sister did not look up. “Love, Hilda. Love!”

“Foolishness, Christina. Foolishness.”

Christina released a long, heavy breath and turned her gaze to the window. “Just imagine who could be out there, waiting for us.”

“The only thing waiting for us out there right now is a fever. The air has quite a chill for late spring.”

“Don’t you have any dreams left?”

“I never had any to begin with, Christina. There’s no need. I have everything I want right here—a good home, an honest living, and the freedom to worship as Amish. What more is there to want?”

Christina laughed. “Sometimes I don’t know if you are trying to be funny or if you really mean what you say.”

“There is nothing funny about what I say.”

“Hilda, you know there is.”

“You ought to put aside those girlish dreams and settle for what you have.”

“I’m happy for what I have—I just want more!” Christina’s eyes flashed as she drew her hands together and clasped them under her chin. “Just imagine a man on his way to this cabin, right now. He’d be tall and handsome and witty. And he would appreciate all of my jokes.”

“Any man is taller than you, Christina.” Christina was forever standing on her tiptoes to reach things. And she always had to tilt her head back and stare upward during conversations with others.

“Handsome and witty then.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure he would be.” Hilda frowned and looked up for the first time in the conversation. “Did you just sew that fabric to your skirt?”

“What?” Christina pulled her eyes from the window and tried to lift the white linen shift she had been hemming. Her skirt lifted with it. “Oh, for goodness’ sake!”

Hilda gave a slight smile, then turned back to her sewing. “And that is what dreaming gets you.”

Christina laughed. “One day, Hilda, a man will walk through that door and you will never be the same. Just wait, sister mine. The day will come.”

“Ha!” Hilda’s laugh sounded more like a dry bark. “We both know those days are past. I’m on the shelf, as they say. A thirty-two-year-old woman simply does not find a husband.” Hilda reached over and patted Christina’s knee. “You are a dear, but you must stop dreaming. It serves no purpose, save to create disappointment.”

Christina opened her mouth to argue. She knew that, once dreamed, a dream never died. It would go on and on, fighting and aching to be realized. But as she worked to form a clever argument, a low growl interrupted the quiet. The growl erupted into a fierce round of barking. Christina leapt to her feet. “The sheep!”

“Wolves, like as not.”

“I’ll go,” Christina said as she hurried for the door.

“Thank you. I want to finish working on this bodice.” Hilda glanced up from her stitching. “Do be careful. Although I’m sure Bruno will take care of it. He’s certainly bigger than any of the wolves.” The enormous sheepdog had proven indispensable in the backcountry. “And stay close to the cabin.”

“Ja.” Christina made sure to pull the door shut behind her—just in case. She had an unreasonable fear that a wild animal would sneak into the cabin—or at least Hilda claimed it was unreasonable. Christina found it very reasonable, indeed.

Bruno stood at the base of the woodpile with his four legs firmly planted and his sharp, white teeth bared. A man balanced on top of the woodpile.

A man!

And not just any man. A tall, handsome man. Christina stared for a moment. She could not quite believe her eyes. A wet growl sounded in the back of Bruno’s throat. The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other to maintain his balance and stay clear of Bruno’s jaws. “Call him off, would you?” The man flashed a boyish grin. “It seems we got off on the wrong foot.”

Christina realized that she had been staring in a most unladylike fashion. “Oh!” She ran toward her dog. “Bruno! Down, boy! Down!” Bruno fell silent and turned his big, black eyes to Christina. “That’s right. Let the poor man go.” Bruno looked up at the man, then back to Christina. “It’s all right, you big bully.” Christina reached down and ruffled Bruno’s long, shaggy fur. “Now go on and watch the sheep, won’t you?” Bruno whined softly and stayed by Christina’s side. “It’s all right. He’s a stranger, but he’s one of us.”

Christina looked up at the man. “Aren’t you? One of us, I mean.” She noticed the youthful spark in his gray eyes and the cheerful expression on his face—and not just any face. A confident, chiseled face. My goodness! Was that all she could think about? This poor man was under attack from her dog and all she could think was how handsome he was! But it wasn’t every day that a handsome stranger appeared on one’s woodpile.

The man leapt from the top of the woodpile and landed with a heavy thud beside Christina. A couple of logs rattled to the ground, and he bent to pick them up. When he straightened up to his full height, Christina nearly gasped. Handsome and the perfect height too? He looked tall, but not too tall for her. She did not have to strain her neck too much to look into his eyes. Who was this man?

“I’m Johan. Just got here.” He flashed that grin again, and Christina thought she might melt into the ground. Her stomach felt hot and her heart zipped into her throat. Johan glanced around the yard. “I was looking for the river. My brother and I set up camp nearby.”

Christina noticed the wooden yoke and buckets on the ground nearby. “I guess Bruno had other ideas.”

“He’s a good guard dog.” Johan restacked the loose logs atop the woodpile, then reached down to pat Bruno’s head. Bruno showed his teeth and let out a warning growl. Johan pulled his hand back and chuckled.

Christina smiled. Johan was friendly and easygoing as well as handsome. She wondered if he was witty too. That would be too much. She cleared her throat and hoped that her face had not given her away. She had an unfortunate habit of turning pink whenever she felt a strong emotion. “Ja. He’s a good sheepdog too. I thought you were a wolf. But you’re not. You’re . . .” Christina didn’t finish the sentence because she wanted to say, You’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for. Christina cleared her throat again. “Welcome to New Canaan. I hope you like it here.”

“I’m off to a good start.”

“Are you?” Christina smiled and patted Bruno’s neck. “You haven’t had a friendly welcome.”

“No?” Johan gave a dazzling smile that made Christina’s face flush. “It feels very friendly to me.”

“Oh.” Oh! He meant . . . Oh my! Christina knew she had turned pink, now. She felt her cheeks. “It’s cold out, isn’t it?”

Johan’s smile softened into a knowing half grin. “Ja. So cold that it’s turned your face red.”

Christina swallowed hard. “I’m very sensitive.”

“I can see that.” He looked down, and those twinkling gray eyes locked on hers.

Christina’s tongue couldn’t form the right words. She tried to calm her heart, but it pounded against her breastbone. She could feel her cheeks grow redder until she knew she resembled a ripe beet. Favoring a root vegetable was no way to win a man. “The river’s that way,” she managed to say as she pointed to the woods, hoping her face would return to a more natural color.

“Ah. I see.” Johan tipped his black beaver felt hat at her and grinned. “Until next time. Which will be soon, ja?”

Christina swallowed again. He wanted to see her again soon? “It will?”

“Worship service tomorrow, ja?”

A worship service. Of course. He hadn’t meant that he would call on her. Could her face flush any redder now? No, it most certainly could not. Christina nodded. She did not trust herself to speak.

“You know, I never caught your name.”

“Christina. My name is Christina. Hello.” Hello? Why on earth did I say that?

“Hello, Christina.” His voice sounded so deep and masculine when he spoke her name that Christina had to remind her knees to hold her weight.

Johan nodded, winked, and turned on one heel. He retrieved the bucket and yoke he had dropped and strode into the forest without looking back. Christina stared at the tree line for a long time even though she knew she should go back inside. If he could see her, she would look foolish for staring. And yet, she could not look away. Oh my, she thought as she stared into the silent evening shadows. Oh, my!

Johan had not expected to meet a beautiful woman while standing on a woodpile to escape the jaws of a sheepdog. It was not his most dignified meeting. When a man wants to make a good impression, he does not want to be rescued—he wants to swoop in and do the rescuing. But she had rescued him. The embarrassment stuck to his throat. She must think him quite foolish.

Oh well, it couldn’t be helped. Johan shrugged as he tramped through the woods and whistled a happy tune. He couldn’t stay discouraged for long. It wasn’t in his nature. The important thing was that he had met a lovely young lady—a lovely young single lady. New Canaan was already better than he had expected.

When Johan returned to the campsite, his older brother, Wilhelm, was crouched by the fire as a toddler pulled at his sleeve and a young boy clamored up his back. Another little boy ran across the clearing with a branch in his hand. “I’ll keep the wolves away!” he shouted.

“Don’t run with sticks, Fritz!” Wilhelm said as he plucked the other child from his shoulders and pulled him into his lap. “And don’t climb on Papa, Franz. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.” The little boy looked up at him, then settled into his lap and laid his head against his father’s chest. The toddler continued to tug on Wilhelm’s sleeve. “All right, you too, Felix.” Wilhelm pulled the child into his lap and tried to stoke the fire with his free hand.

“Another relaxing night around the campfire, I see.” Johan grinned as he strode into the clearing and eased the yoke off his shoulders. Water sloshed over the sides of the wooden buckets as he set them onto the ground.

“Ja,” Wilhelm said as Fritz ran back across the clearing. “Very relaxing.” This time, Fritz held a frog instead of a stick. “Where did you get that—” Wilhelm cut the sentence short, sighed, and shook his head. “As long as no one gets hurt.”

“We’re off to a good start,” Johan said as he settled onto a log and held his hands to the fire.

“Are we?” Wilhelm pulled a half-eaten leaf from Felix’s hand.

Johan broke into a carefree grin. “Yes.”

“Put that poor frog down,” Wilhelm shouted to Fritz, then turned to Johan. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because I met someone.”

“I don’t guess she’s on her way with a hot meal and a bedtime story for these three boys?”

Johan laughed. “If only life were that simple.”

Wilhelm pulled an arm away from the children in his lap to rub his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “If only.”

The journey through the wilderness to reach New Canaan would have been difficult enough—but with three young children, it had been nearly impossible. Johan had convinced Wilhelm to make a new start after Wilhelm’s wife died. And where better for a new start than the first Amish settlement in America? There, the brothers had reasoned, Wilhelm would have the support of a likeminded community as he navigated single fatherhood. And, they had the promise of land. In the Pennsylvania backcountry, a man could make his own way and build a future for himself. In Germany, the brothers had been poor tenant farmers with little hope of a better life.

“At least we’ve found a place where we belong as Amish.” Johan reached over and tousled his nephew’s hair. “It’s a start.”

“Ja.” Wilhelm exhaled and ran his fingers through his own hair. “The question is, now what?”

Johan laughed. “Tomorrow, we go to the worship service. Day after tomorrow, we start clearing the land.”

“And after that?” Wilhelm asked.

“We build a cabin and plant our crops.”

Wilhelm’s oldest son raced by again. The frog was gone, but so were the boy’s waistcoat and woolen hose. Wilhelm opened his mouth, then closed it again. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And then what?”

“We’ll take it one day at a time after that. Who knows where life will take us?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Wilhelm said.

Johan laughed. “Look at life as an adventure.”

Fritz barreled toward Wilhelm, leapfrogged over his lap—and his two brothers—and kept running.

“I’d settle for something more predictable,” Wilhelm said.

Johan grinned. “There’s no fun in that!”

“I’ll take predictability over fun any day.” As Wilhelm spoke, Fritz’s feet slid out from under him and he landed flat on his face in a mud puddle. Brown water splashed upward and splattered Wilhelm in the eye. He sighed, took out a handkerchief, wiped his face, and stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. “As I was saying . . .”

“Point taken.” Johan wanted to tell Wilhelm more about the captivating young woman he had met. But he hesitated. What good would it do to mention it? Wilhelm needed a wife far more than Johan did. In fact, Johan did not think he needed a wife at all. He rather enjoyed the carefree bachelor life—or he had before he’d started helping his widowed brother care for three motherless children. Life had not been carefree since then.

Indeed, Johan had learned a powerful lesson. Family life could be difficult. Children were not always sweet and silent. In fact, they could be quite loud. And boisterous. And downright dangerous. Especially when they ran with sticks and hid frogs in their uncle’s bedcovers. No, Johan was quite happy to stay single. One family was enough to handle—he didn’t need to start his own!

It was too bad he couldn’t get that lovely Christina out of his mind. He hoped it was a passing fancy. Anything else would be quite inconvenient.

Christina danced into the cabin. Her feet felt as light as a cloud in a springtime sky. Something wonderful had happened. Something momentous and unprecedented. Something she had always dreamed would happen. A man had been waiting outside her door! What madness! What glory!

“What in heaven’s name has come over you?” Hilda glanced up from her sewing, shook her head, and turned her attention back to her needle and thread.

“You won’t believe it.”

“Hmmmm. Probably not.” Hilda frowned as she pulled the thread taut. “Let me guess. You just met the man of your dreams and we will all live happily ever after now.”

Christina clapped her hands. Her face still had a happy pink glow. “How did you guess?”

“Because it’s all you ever talk about.”

“That is not true, strictly speaking. I also talk about you meeting the man of your dreams.”

“Hmmmm.” Hilda did not look up. “You took care of the sheep?”

“I didn’t need to.”

Hilda gave a curt nod as she snipped the end of the thread. “So it was nothing.”

“Nothing? I told you, it was a man!”

“Ah.”

“Don’t you want the details? He was—”

“All finished.” Hilda held up the bodice she had been stitching. “Good as new, ja? You’d never know it’s been taken in.”

“Don’t you want to hear about—”

Hilda picked a loose thread from the bodice. “Oh, Christina.” She shook her head. “You have to stop this.”

“Hilda, you don’t understand.”

“Christina, the man of your dreams won’t just appear. This is the real world. You have to stop dreaming. Can’t you see life is hard enough without adding unrealistic expectations? You’ll make yourself sick with all that hope.” Hilda stood and hung the bodice on a peg in the wall. “Try and be satisfied with what you have.”

“I am satisfied. I just want more.”

Hilda laughed, but it sounded small and hollow. “This is all there is.”

Christina wanted to say more. She wanted to shout out every detail about Johan. She wanted to take her sister by the hand and dance around the cabin and tell her everything. But Christina said nothing. How could she? Hilda had given up her life to take care of Christina when their parents died. Hilda had sacrificed and struggled and found a way to bring them from their German village to the New World, where they could live free as Amish. Now, at thirty-two years old, Hilda had no hope left for a match. She was far past marriageable age. Hilda would never admit regret, but Christina could sense the loss her sister felt. Hilda would never have a family of her own, and Christina felt responsible.

How could Christina talk about meeting the man of her dreams when Hilda had no one? How could Christina think of leaving Hilda alone? Christina closed her eyes and pushed the temptation away. She would find a man for her sister. She must. Then, and only then, would she dare to dream of a man of her own.

The next day dawned bright and fair. Wildflowers dotted the woodlands and ran along the edges of cleared land, where wild grass fought to overtake freshly plowed fields. Christina’s thoughts stayed on Johan as she and Hilda walked to the worship service. Every step along the narrow footpath led her another step closer to the man she had met—she had no doubt he was, indeed, the man of her dreams. How could he be anything else? Men didn’t just fall from the sky and land atop one’s woodpile—not unless they were meant to find you. Christina shivered with expectation. What did der Herr have planned for her?

“Isn’t that right, Christina?”

Christina flinched. “What?” She had not meant to daydream.

“The shearing. It should be a good year, ja?”

“Oh, ja. A very good year.” Christina turned her face toward the rising sun. The rays felt warm and soft on her skin. She wanted to melt into the warmth and dream of melting into Johan’s arms—but she could not. Christina straightened her spine and cleared her throat. What foolishness. She had already promised herself she would banish Johan from her mind until Hilda found a match. How Hilda would find a match here in the backcountry, where wolves and cougars outnumbered eligible bachelors, she did not know. But there had to be a way. Christina squeezed her fists together. There had to be a way. She could not leave Hilda alone.

“Christina, dear, are you quite well? You look as if you might punch something.”

Christina loosened her fists and flashed a smile. “What? I haven’t any idea what you mean.”

“Hmmmm. Ah, here we are.” Hilda turned off the path and picked her way down an embankment toward a stout little cabin. Hemlocks towered over the dirt yard. Sunlight glistened across the dark green needles that shaded the clearing.

Christina’s heart leapt into her throat as she scanned the yard. She saw Jacob and Greta, the hosts of this week’s service, as well as the Widow Yoder, Eli and his new bride Catrina, the Gruber and Stolzfus families and . . . oh, where could he be? Christina’s eyes darted about the clearing. He had to come. Surely he wouldn’t miss a service.

Surely he wouldn’t miss a chance to see her again.

Christina stood on her tiptoes to peer above the cluster of settlers, but she couldn’t see anything but the backs of starched, white prayer kappes. Christina pursed her lips and jumped up to see better. Hilda gave her a warning glance. Then Jonah Gruber stepped aside to say hello to Bishop Riehl. A gap opened in the crowd and a pair of sparkling gray eyes came into view. There he was!

Johan glanced up and spotted Christina. Their eyes met and his lips curled into a grin. Christina heard herself gasp as her stomach dropped to her toes. He had noticed her. He had even smiled at her! She felt a happy glow spread across her cheeks and knew she was blushing. Of course he had smiled at her. He was the man she had been dreaming of all these years.

“Christina, are you well?”

Hilda’s voice sounded far away. Christina’s focus stayed on the young man with the glint in his gray eyes and that charming, disarming smile. “Yes,” she answered. “I am very well, indeed.” Oh, yes. She had never been so well.

The crowd shifted, and Amos Knepp filled in the empty space and blocked Johan from Christina’s view. Everyone wanted a chance to say hello to the newcomer. Christina could hear their friendly introductions from across the clearing. She let out a long, dreamy sigh as she stared into the crowd.

“I fear you have taken ill, sister mine.” Hilda put a cool hand to Christina’s forehead. “You ought to have worn your cloak when you went outside last night. You must have caught a chill.” Hilda clucked her tongue. “Or are you just daydreaming again?” . . .