A Promise for Miriam
Read A Promise for Miriam Online
Authors: Vannetta Chapman
Tags: #Christian Fiction, #Amish & Mennonite, #Amish, #Christian, #Fiction, #Romance, #Love Stories
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible,
New International Version
®
NIV
®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
Cover by Koechel Peterson & Associates, Inc., Minneapolis, Minnesota
Cover photos © Koechel Peterson & Associates, Inc. / iStockphoto / Thinkstock
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
A PROMISE FOR MIRIAM
Copyright © 2012 by Vannetta Chapman
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Chapman, Vannetta.
A promise for Miriam / Vannetta Chapman.
p. cm — (The Pebble Creek Amish series ; bk. 1)
ISBN 978-0-7369-4612-4 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-4613-1 (eBook)
1. Amish—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3603.H3744P76 2012
813'.6—dc23
2011050769
All rights reserved
. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
For my sister,
Pam Lindman
When I was four years old, my sister taught me how to tie my shoes. I’m grateful she’s still in my life, and she continues to have the patience to teach me things such as quilting and double crochet stitches…which are both much harder than how to knot your shoelaces. I love you, sis.
Although Pebble Creek doesn’t actually exist, the village of Cashton does, and there are several folks in the Driftless region I’d like to thank, including Anita Reeck (Amil’s Inn Bed and Breakfast), Kathy Kuderer (Down a Country Road), and Pete and Nora Knapik (Inn at Lonesome Hollow). Richard Lee Dawley (author of
Amish in Wisconsin
) was also kind enough to answer questions while I was conducting research.
The
Englisch
development I describe being built in the area of Nappanee, Indiana, is entirely fictional, though the Menno-Hof Museum mentioned does exist in Shipshewana, Indiana, and can be visited at
www.mennohof.org
.
Thanks to Suzanne Woods Fisher and the
Budget
for their endless supply of Amish proverbs. Other reference materials include
The Amish School
by Sara E. Fisher and Rachel K. Stahl, and
Herbs and Old Time Remedies
by Joseph VanSeters.
Thanks also to my editor, Kim Moore, and the excellent staff at Harvest House, as well as my agent, Mary Sue Seymour.
Mary Ellis was an encouragement to me in the writing of this book. My friends and prereaders, Donna, Kristy, and Dorsey, are a precious gift. Bobby, Mom, and kids—I adore you all.
I didn’t attend a one-room schoolhouse, but I am a better person today because of the teachers in my life who cared, who were dedicated to their profession, and who encouraged a very shy little east Texas girl. I’m thankful that they did.
Contents
Indiana
March
G
abe sat by the side of the bed, clasping Hope’s hand.
The wind fought with the window panes, intent on finding its way into the small upstairs room. The rain lashed out against the night sky.
He knew when Dr. Frank left the room. He heard him in the hall murmuring to Erma and recognized the defeat in his voice as he moved down the stairs.
Gabe felt the weight of thick, heavy exhaustion pressing down on him. He couldn’t have held up his head if his life had depended on it, though he would have found a way to do so if it could have saved Hope.
Saving Hope.
It had become his life mission, but that wasn’t
Gotte’s wille.
So the bishop had said as recently as an hour ago. So Erma was saying to the doctor as he left the house even now. Why couldn’t Gabe’s heart agree? Instead, he allowed his head to drop to the quilt, allowed his lips to kiss her hand—a hand that was even now growing cold, and for this moment he allowed himself to weep.
He heard Erma walk slowly up the stairs and stop outside the bedroom door, allowing him this final moment alone with his wife.
“
Mamm
!” Grace’s scream tore through the house, startling in its pitch and intensity. Lunging past Hope’s mother, Gabe’s five-year-old daughter threw herself into the room, clawing at the bed and attempting to crawl on it, all the time sobbing and crying. “I want my
mamm
. Why won’t she wake up? Make her wake up!”
He tried to pull her away, putting his arms around her small frame and murmuring in her ear, but her cries only increased.
“Silence that child!” Hope’s father stood in the doorway, his face an inscrutable mask, his voice a hammer falling. Walking into the room, he jerked Grace from Gabe’s arms. “Take her, Erma. Take her and silence her. I will not have such a display in my home.”
Micah paused a moment, his eyes taking in Gabe’s tearstained face and the lifeless form of his daughter. Briefly, Gabe thought he saw the mask of indifference slip from his features, but it was less than the span of a heartbeat, and in the dim lantern light he could have imagined it. With a scowl, the older man turned and trudged from the room, leaving Gabe alone to deal with his grief.
