Patchwork Dreams

What Others Are Saying…

Laura V. Hilton has penned a touching story of love and its impact on a hurting heart. A compelling story line and unforgettable characters make Patchwork Dreams a must-read!

—Penny Zeller, Author, McKenzie and Kaydie (books one and two in the Montana Skies series)

Laura V. Hilton’s book captured my interest from the start. It opens with raw emotions and doesn’t let up.

—Mary A. Hake, President, Oregon Christian Writers

Laura Hilton captures the complicated relationships that spin out of the expectations of family and church. This poignant story is sometimes touching, sometimes humorous, sometimes bittersweet. Readers will find themselves rooting for Becky’s broken heart to heal and to turn to Jacob. Hilton keeps us guessing until the last page.

—Suzanne Woods Fisher, Award-winning author, The Search

Laura Hilton combines her expert knowledge of the Amish with exceptional storytelling to create a fast-paced, poignant romance. You will fall in love with her bigger-than-life hero in this first book of her series The Amish of Seymour.

—Mary Ellis, Award-winning, best-selling author, Sarah’s Christmas Miracle and A Widow’s Hope

With an amazing twist that makes it fresh, Patchwork Dreams is a wonderful new Amish story that you will want to read from front to back without putting it down.

—Cindy Loven, Book reviewer, cindylovenreviews.blogspot.com

Laura V. Hilton conveys a true depiction of God’s transforming love in Patchwork Dreams. It’s a wonderfully written love story between a broken woman with a marred past and the man determined to restore her heart.

—Ruth Reid, Author, The Promise of an Angel

A gentle, sweet romance with enough twists and turns to keep you guessing. Laura’s beautifully written novel will satisfy any romance lover!

—Miralee Ferrell, Author, Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona, and Finding Jeena

Laura Hilton weaves a delightful tale of love, hope, and forgiveness as she carries you into the world of the Amish of Seymour. I thoroughly enjoyed the road to romance in Patchwork Dreams, and I look forward to reading the rest of the series!

—Susette Williams, Author, Something About Sam and New Garden’s Conversion

If you love Amish romances, you’ll find Laura Hilton’s writing style engaging and tough to put down.

—Tammy Barley, Author, The Sierra Chronicles (Love’s Rescue, Hope’s Promise, and Faith’s Reward)

Patchwork Dreams is an uplifting tale of hope for tomorrow and the power of second chances.

—Ginny Aiken, Author, the Silver Hills Trilogy, and the Women of Hope series

Patchwork Dreams is a joy to read.

—Diana Lesire Brandmeyer, Author, Wyoming Weddings and Hearts on the Road

Publisher’s Note:
This novel is a work of fiction. References to real events, organizations, or places are used in a fictional context. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.

Patchwork Dreams
The Amish of Seymour ~ Book One

Laura V. Hilton

ISBN: 978-1-60374-255-9
Printed in the United States of America
© 2011 by Laura V. Hilton

Whitaker House
1030 Hunt Valley Circle
New Kensington, PA 15068
www.whitakerhouse.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hilton, Laura V., 1963–
Patchwork dreams / by Laura V. Hilton.
p. cm. — (The Amish of Seymour series ; bk. 1)
ISBN 978-1-60374-255-9 (trade pbk. : alk. paper)
1. Single mothers—Fiction. 2. Amish—Fiction 3. Seymour (Mo.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3608.I4665P38 2011
811'.6—dc22

2011000700

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical—including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system—without permission in writing from the publisher. Please direct your inquiries to [email protected].

I’d like to offer my heartfelt thanks to the following:

The Swartz family, for allowing me a look at the inside of an Amish home and the outside layout of their farm. And for giving me a taste of their homemade jams and jellies.

Susanne Woods Fisher, for contacting her sources to settle a few questions to which I couldn’t find the answers.

The residents of Seymour, for answering my questions and pointing me in the right directions.

The Ozark Folk Center in Mountain View, Arkansas—specifically, Scott Reidy—for giving me a crash course in blacksmithing.

The amazing team at Whitaker House—Christine, Courtney, and Cathy. You are wonderful.

My agent, for believing in me all these years.

To my critique group—you know who you are. You are amazing and knew how to ask the right questions when more detail was needed. Also, thanks for the encouragement.

To my husband, Steve, for being a tireless proofreader and cheering section, and my sons, Michael and Loundy, for taking over the kitchen duties when I was deep in the story.

And in memory of my parents, Allan and Janice, and my uncle Loundy, and my grandmother, Mertie, who talked about their Pennsylvania Amish heritage.

Steve, my best friend,

Loundy, my favorite song,

Michael, my adventurous one,

Kristin, my precious daughter,

Jenna, my sunshine,

Kaeli, my shower of blessing,

and to God, who has blessed me with these.

In loving memory of Allan and Janice Price, my parents, and my Uncle Loundy, who have blessed me with some knowledge of our Pennsylvania Dutch ancestors.

Also to Tamela, my agent, for not letting me give up and for giving sage advice.

ach—oh

“Ain’t so?—”a phrase commonly used at the end of a sentence to invite agreement

Ausbund—Amish hymnal used in worship services. Includes lyrics only.

boppli—baby or babies

bu—boy

buwe—boys

daed—dad

danki—thank you

dawdi-haus—a home built for grandparents to live in once they retire

Englischer—a non-Amish person

frau—wife

grossdaedi—grandfather

grossmammi—grandmother

gut—good

gut nacht—good night

haus—house

hinnersich—backward

“Ich liebe dich”—“I love you”

jah—yes

kapp—prayer covering or cap

kinner—children

kum—come

maidal—an unmarried woman

mamm—mom

nein—no

onkel—uncle

Ordnung—the rules by which an Amish community lives

rumschpringe—“running around time,” a period of adolescence after which Amish teens choose either to be baptized in the Amish church or to leave the community

ser gut—very good

verboden—forbidden

“Was ist letz?”—“What’s the matter?”

welkum—welcome

Jacob Miller hunkered on the middle seat of a white van. He wasn’t a prisoner, but he might as well have been.

Could he say, “I quit”?

Could he say, “Stop this ride, I want to get off”?

No, to both questions.

Despair roiled in his gut as the van passed a McDonald’s on the right, then pulled off the southbound lane of Highway 60, turned left at the light, and continued down a road covered with snow. The ice-laden trees, while beautiful to behold, did nothing to settle his inner turmoil. The heat from the van’s air vents only dispelled the outer chill. This was possibly the worst thing that had ever happened to him—having to leave his girl as he was tossed out like an old copy of the Amish newspaper,
The Budget
.

Jacob leaned forward, his black felt hat clutched in his hands, as the vehicle lurched over a bump. Or something. Seymour, Missouri, wasn’t too far from Springfield, which the driver called the “Queen City of the Ozarks.” But the trip dragged by as if in slow motion. Maybe because he’d been dreading it for so long.

Fearing it.

Having nightmares about it.

Mamm’s fourth cousin twice removed lived somewhere in this rural Missouri town. What would his family be like? Would Cousin Daniel be a harsh disciplinarian like Daed? Or would he be more easygoing, like Mamm? Jacob blinked hard, remembering Mamm’s tears when he’d boarded the transport driver’s van for a ride to the bus station.

He wished he could use his contraband cell phone to call home to talk to Mamm. But his parents didn’t own a phone; there was only the community one in a shack a couple of miles down the road.

Jacob grimaced as the van rumbled past several small businesses and then turned down a narrow dirt road.

“Not too far now. A bit anxious, are you?” The driver glanced at Jacob in the rearview mirror, then reached forward and adjusted the heat. “Getting a mite warm in here.”

Jacob made a noncommittal grunt and looked away. The driver had made a couple of attempts at conversation since picking him up at the bus station, but with nausea clogging his throat, he didn’t want to risk opening his mouth to speak.

How could Daed do this to him? It seemed wrong in so many ways.

Instead of building his farm in Pennsylvania, Jacob would be working the rocky red clay of southern Missouri. If he were home, he could be drinking a mugful of hot apple cider made from the family’s orchard and then going out to prune the fruit trees, working alongside his brothers—something he’d always imagined himself doing for life.

Jacob pushed that thought away. Better not to think of what might have been.

Instead of marrying sweet Susie during wedding season, he’d be spending a year helping out a distant cousin he’d never met. Susie’s warm, brown eyes flashed in his mind. Her quick laugh. Her willingness to try new things, never content to settle for the old. Ach, he already missed her. He reached for his cell phone to send her a text message but couldn’t get a signal. No coverage.

Well, if Daed thought this would destroy their love for each other, he had another thing coming. Jacob couldn’t imagine living without Susie for a week, let alone a year.

Bare trees dotted the edges of someone’s property, and in the distance, the rolling hills made a rather hazy background picture. Pretty, though not at all like home.