A Sister's Wish (2 page)

Chapter 1

Thursday, October 1

P
rincess,
nee
!” Amelia shouted as she scrambled down the front steps. “Stop!”

But Princess didn't hear her. Actually, that probably wasn't true. Princess no doubt heard her just fine. She simply didn't care to pay much attention to what Amelia wanted her to do.

Instead, the six-month-old pygmy goat continued to nonchalantly chew Oscar's leash.

From what Amelia could tell, the goat had been munching on it for some time. A good section of it was missing.

Thank heavens her sister Rebecca's bulldog puppy was unaware that he was free. Instead of running off as most dogs were wont to do, he was plopped on his side, enjoying the unexpected warmth of the October sun.

After picking up the pup—who, at twenty pounds, was now really too big to carry—and depositing him inside the screen
door of the house, Amelia braced herself. It was time to convince Princess that she really, really needed to begin minding her new owner.

Her pet had a silky white coat, long eyelashes, and beady black eyes. Princess was pretty, smart, and could climb almost anything. She was also as ornery as one might expect of a young doe.

Everyone had warned Amelia about this. Her siblings had begged her to return Princess to the farm where she'd bought her, saying that none of them had time to properly train the animal. But Amelia had steadfastly ignored both the warnings and the entreaties. She'd wanted this goat. Actually, she had wanted something to call her own, and a goat would do.

It seemed she was as stubborn as her pet.

“You silly girl,” Amelia said. “Rope ain't
gut
for you. You must learn to leave it alone.”

Princess bleated in reply.

Unable to help herself, she laughed. “
Jah,
that is what I thought you might say.” After carefully pulling the last bit of rope out of Princess's mouth, Amelia wrapped an arm around the pesky animal's neck and guided her to the barn. “Lucky for you, I just put some fresh alfalfa in your stall. You can get your fill of that while I do my chores.”

Just as she was about to step inside her cozy stall, however, Princess balked. With a grunt and a bleat, she pulled away.

“Princess, I ain't got time for this. It's already two in the afternoon. I need to work on supper.” And the garden. And sweep the floors. All the chores that were up to Amelia to complete since she was the lone member of her household still at home.

Really wishing that she'd put a harness or collar on her little
goat, Amelia grabbed Princess around the middle and pulled her forward.

But the doe froze, looking panicked, and bleated loudly.

Frustrated beyond measure, Amelia pulled harder. “Come, now. I know you are stubborn, but you must start minding me!”

Princess curled her lips, revealing lots of shiny, white, sharp teeth.

Amelia glared right back. “What has gotten into you?” Stepping into the stall, she yanked on Princess again.

“Bleat!” Princess protested frantically, and then kicked out her back legs, then the front, just like a bucking bronco.

One tiny, surprisingly sharp hoof made contact with Amelia's shin.

More surprised than anything, Amelia threw her hands up in the air as she fell to the floor of the stall. And when her hand flew out to catch herself, she discovered why Princess had not wanted to be anywhere near her home.

Because Amelia's left hand landed on a snake.

It didn't take kindly to the interruption. It slithered, hissed, and bit her hand.

Amelia cried out.

Princess scrambled farther away.

Fighting pain in both her palm and leg, Amelia gathered her wits, hobbled out of the stall, and at last leaned back against the wooden enclosure. Then she did exactly what she'd tried so hard to never do . . .

She burst into tears. Terrible, loud, unapologetic tears. She was alone, she was in pain, and suddenly, she'd had enough. More than enough.

Amelia Kinsinger cried for her mother, who'd died when
Amelia was only seven. She cried for her father, who'd recently perished in a fire in her family's lumber mill. She cried for her brother Levi, who had left town soon after.

In short, she cried for everything she'd ever lost and everything she still had.

But most of all, she cried because there was currently no one around to hear.

I
T SEEMED HE
wasn't capable of staying away.

Yet, as Simon Hochstetler approached the stately white house that the Kinsingers had lived in for generations, he knew his best friend didn't want him calling on his little sister. And for most of his life he'd honored Lukas Kinsinger's wishes. But about four months ago, Simon had decided he was tired of waiting.

He was twenty-eight years old. Now he was a manager at Kinsinger Lumber and had over thirty men reporting to him. More importantly, he'd been in love with Amelia Kinsinger for years. Since his return to Charm two years ago, he'd kept his distance out of respect for both her age and the fact that she was his best friend's little sister, but when Amelia had started talking to him more, gazing at him longer, and smiling shyly whenever he teased her, Simon knew she returned his feelings. Since he was either going to hurt Amelia or disappoint Lukas, Simon knew there was only one way to go.

And because he was not the type of man to wait when he wanted something bad enough, Simon had since found a way to see Amelia: A few weeks ago he'd begun to see her on the sly, visiting her when he knew no one else would be around.

He wasn't proud of this.

If Amelia's parents had been alive, he would have done what
ever it took to persuade them to accept him as a prospective suitor. But they had both gone up to Heaven and there was no way he was going to beg and plead his case to his childhood friend or Amelia's sister, Rebecca. Amelia was twenty-two and fully able to tell him if she didn't want him around. So far, she'd been delighted by his visits.

He'd told himself his visits were to give her some company—because Amelia worked at home by herself every day. But the truth was that Simon simply needed to be around her. Amelia was sweet, kind, and honest. She was beautiful, too. She was actually everything he'd ever wanted. More than he'd ever dared to yearn for.

Being in her company made him forget the mistakes he'd made. Her smiles gave him hope and her acceptance made him feel clean and worthy. There was no way he was ever going to give that up without a fight.

Still, even though he didn't mind doing whatever it took to see her, Simon knew that wasn't fair to Amelia. She deserved to have a man court her publicly. She deserved to see that Simon was willing to overcome any obstacle in order for her to be happy.

In fact, he was practicing different ways to convince Lukas of this when he arrived at the Kinsingers' house. Then, just as he began to walk up the front steps, he realized that something wasn't quite right. It was too quiet, everything unnaturally still. Usually, Amelia would be outside on the front porch with two Mason jars of iced tea or lemonade, waiting for him.

This was unexpected. They'd had plans. Just yesterday, he'd asked if she would be willing to spend an hour with him. She'd smiled and nodded.

But Amelia was nowhere in sight. Instead, the front door
was open. Only their ratty-looking screen door was preventing Oscar from getting out. The dog was staring at him in a pitiful way. He whined and pawed at the screen.

“Hey, boy,” Simon murmured. “What's going on here?”

Oscar gazed up at him with sad eyes and whined some more.

Simon was growing more concerned by the minute.

“Amelia?” he called out.

She didn't answer.

Opening the screen door, he let Oscar waddle through, then followed him back down the steps. Immediately, Oscar did his business. Then, with a little grunt, he trotted toward the barn as quickly as his stocky legs could take him.

His heart in his throat, Simon followed on his heels.

“Amelia?” he called out again.

At last he heard a gasp, followed by a small cry.

He picked up his pace, dust flying up around his thick work boots. “Amelia, where are ya?”

“I'm . . . I'm in the barn.”

Her voice didn't sound right. Running now, he followed the pup inside, then froze at the sight before him.

Amelia was sitting on the dirt floor of the barn crying. Her light pink dress was wrinkled and dusty. Her usually carefully pressed white
kapp
was smudged with dirt. Even in the dim light he could see that her cheeks were deathly pale, her nose and eyes were red from crying, and she was holding one hand awkwardly in the other.

He knelt by her side. “Amelia, what happened?” He didn't even bother with asking if she was all right. She so obviously wasn't.

She hiccupped. “There was a snake in Princess's stall.” She waved her hand. “It—it bit my hand.”

Simon was barely able to push aside his panic as he reached for her hand. Only the experiences of his past allowed him to control himself. “Are you sure? Was it a rattler? How long ago did this happen?”

“An hour ago. Maybe a little longer? And I'm not sure what kind it was,” she said. Gazing at her hand that was now firmly held in his own, she visibly gathered herself. “It was a rat snake, I think. Nothing poisonous. At least, I'm fairly sure about that. But, Simon, it still hurts terribly.”

Feeling marginally better, Simon forced his body to relax. If a copperhead or rattler had bit her, she would've likely been feeling much worse. She might have even passed out. But that didn't mean he didn't feel for her. Snake bites, venomous or not, were scary experiences.

“I reckon it does.” Turning her hand, he searched for the puncture wounds. They were located at the bottom of her palm, less than an inch from her wrist. The affected area was slightly swollen and red. Most of the skin around it looked angry. Even if the snake hadn't been poisonous, Simon knew the bite should probably be checked out.

“Let's get you on the porch. Once you get settled, I'll hitch up Stormy to the buggy. We'll run over to the emergency clinic in Berlin.”

When she looked up at him with a fierce expression, he braced himself for an argument. Amy was proud, and she hated being coddled. Furthermore, she seemed to be under the misconception that her needs weren't all that important.

Ever since Lukas had taken over the day-to-day operations at the mill following her father's death, she'd seemed intent on doing everything at home without complaint or help. And even
though Rebecca, along with Lukas's new wife, Darla, helped for a few hours every now and then, it didn't make up for the fact that Amelia alone tended the animals, cared for the garden, cleaned the house, did the laundry, and cooked supper every single day.

But to Simon's surprise, instead of arguing, Amelia nodded.

Unable to help himself, he brushed her wet cheek with the side of his thumb. “I'm glad you understand,” he said gently. “Now, give me your hand and I'll help you up.”

But when she tried to move, she winced, then cried out.

He froze. “What's wrong?”

Averting her face, she started crying again—quiet, thick tears that cascaded down her cheeks and broke his heart.

Concerned, he crouched by her side and promptly forgot all his intentions of treating her in a calm albeit friendly way. Sidling closer, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Amy, honey? Talk to me,
jah
?”

After taking a fortifying breath, she nodded. “Something else happened, Simon. Princess got scared of the snake and she kicked my shin. It hurts something awful. E-Even worse than my hand. I tried to get up, but I couldn't put any weight on it.”

With effort, he refrained from reacting. The last thing she needed was for him to get upset about her injuries or say what was at the center of his mind—that he'd known it wasn't safe for her to be alone on the farm for hours at a time, day after day. But, of course, casting blame wouldn't help her feel better.

“Which leg did she kick?”

Awkwardly, she pointed to the one stretched out. “That one.”

The hem of her dress was resting about mid-calf. He lifted
the fabric to her knee. Not seeing anything from that angle, he started to turn her calf when she cried out.

Growing alarmed, he moved to her other side so he could see the full extent of the injury. A large—very large—black-and-blue mark decorated her leg. It was extremely swollen and slightly misshapen.

He would bet money that the bone was broken. Visions of her sitting on the floor of the dusty barn in pain cut him deeply.

Once again, he ached to corner Lukas, Rebecca, and the missing Levi and give them a piece of his mind. Yes, Amelia was an adult, but she had been given no choice. While the three of them spent their days however they wanted to, Amelia was stuck at home alone. He'd told Lukas more than once that he worried something would happen to Amelia and she would be alone and helpless.

He wasn't exactly happy to have been proven right.

But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was taking care of Amelia and getting her help as soon as possible.

“Change of plans,” he said as he pulled out his work cell phone. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

The skin around her mouth whitened. “Do ya really think that is necessary?”

“I'm afraid so. I think your leg is broken.”

After staring at him for a few seconds, she sighed. “I'm afraid it is, too,” she whispered.

After pausing for a moment to give thanks that the bishop had allowed him to purchase a cell phone for work, he dialed 9-1-1. He'd deal with the consequences of using the phone for a nonwork-related reason at a later date.

He had to walk out the barn door to get a signal, but God was
good. In no time at all, he'd been connected to the emergency operator, explained Amelia's situation, and relayed her address. Once he was assured they were on their way, he turned to her. “What do you want me to tell Lukas?”