Plain Pursuit
© 2009 by Beth Wiseman
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Scriptures taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wiseman, Beth, 1962–
Plain pursuit : a Daughters of the promise novel / Beth Wiseman.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-59554-719-4 (pbk.)
1. Amish—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3623.I83P58 2009
813'.6—dc22
2009009227
Printed in the United States of America
09 10 11 12 13 RRD 5 4 3 2
Table of Content
To my mother, Pat Isley
ach
: oh
Aemen
: Amen
baremlich
: terrible
boppli
: baby or babies
bruder
: brother
daadi
: grandfather
daed
: dad
danki
: thanks
die weibsleit gwilde bis in die nacht
: the women quilt long into the night
Deitschi wege
: Dutch ways
dippy eggs: eggs cooked over easy
Englisch
or
Englischer
: a non-Amish person
es dutt mir leed
: I am sorry
fraa
: wife
guder mariye
: good morning
gut
: good
hatt
: hard
haus
: house
in lieb
: in love
kaffi
: coffee
Kapp
: prayer covering or cap
katzhaarich
: short-haired
kinner
: child
maeds
: girls
make wet
: rain
mamm
: mom
mammi
: grandmother
mei
: my
naerfich
: nervous
onkel
: uncle
Ordnung
: the written and unwritten rules of the Amish; the understood order by which the Amish are expected to live, passed down from generation to generation. Most Amish know the rules by heart.
outten the lights: turn off the lights
Pennsylvania
Deitsch
: Pennsylvania German, the language most commonly used by the Amish
rumschpringe
: running-around period when a teenager turns sixteen years old
schnuppich
: snoopy
schtinkich
: smelly
sell is es bescht vun allem
: that is the best of all
streng meiding
: strong shunning
ummieglich
: impossible
wunderbaar
: wonderful
ya
: yes
LUNCH WITH HER EDITOR USUA LL Y ME A NT ONE THING. TROUBLE.
Carley couldn’t think of anything she’d done to warrant the meeting. Granted, she hadn’t written any award-winning stories for the newspaper lately, but she’d held her own. Every deadline had been met. The stories had been newsworthy. But something was clearly on Matt’s mind. His forehead creased with concern as they took their seats at a small deli near the office.
“They have good burgers here,” Matt said, scanning the menu.
He was stalling.
“I’m just going to have a salad.” Closing the menu, she folded her hands and waited. It was straight-up noon, and the harried waitress was taking orders several tables over. Carley was glad to see her favorite sandwich shop back in business and full of hungry patrons. It had taken months for Houston to recover from the devastating effects of the hurricane, but life had obviously returned to normal.
Normal. Such a loose term,
she thought, waiting for Matt to drop whatever news had prompted the lunch.
Matt finally closed his menu and sighed. “Carley, you’re a good reporter . . .” The lines above his bushy brows became more prominent. She waited for the
but
. He cleared his throat instead, and she took the opportunity to remind him of her tenure.
“I’ve been with the paper four years. I’d like to think I’ve done a good job.” He nodded his agreement, although his expression remained solemn. “What’s
wrong, Matt?”
She searched his face, her heart rate kicking up. Matt had been her editor at the paper since she started, and they’d been to lunch only twice. Once as a celebration of sorts when she won a prestigious award, and once when Matt felt an article she wrote had crossed the journalistic line.
She hadn’t won any awards lately.
“Carley, you’ve got plenty of unused vacation. Why haven’t you taken any?” His eyes cut to the jagged scar spanning three inches across her left forearm. Instinctively, her right hand covered the evidence of the event that had forever altered her life.
“I took two weeks off when Mom died.”
Where is he going with
this? It’s been six months since the accident.
“Carley,” he grumbled, “that wasn’t a vacation, and part of that time you were in the hospital yourself.” He shook his head as the waitress approached.
“I’ll have the grilled chicken salad,” Carley said after Matt ordered his burger and fries. She immediately regretted her decision. What was the point? You couldn’t live forever. She bet her mother would have loaded up with an extra helping of pie on Christmas Day if she’d known it was her last day on earth.
“No, wait. I change my mind. I’ll have a burger and fries too.”
“Good girl,” Matt said after the waitress scurried away. “You’re too thin as it is.”
“Now what were you saying, Matt?” She’d rather get this over with and salvage her appetite.
“I want you to take some vacation time.”
Although his tone left little room for argument, she quickly countered. “I don’t need a vacation.”
“If you don’t see it, then I’ll just come out and say it: you aren’t at the top of your game. You’re a far cry from it, Carley. Your stories lack the zing they used to have. The facts are there, but they’re lacking . . . What’s the word I’m looking for?”
“I have no idea.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Emotional capacity,” he continued. “You used to weave emotion into your stories—just enough to spruce up the article.” He shrugged, and she saw the pity in his eyes as they locked with hers. “The intensity of your writing just isn’t there anymore.”
“I—I didn’t realize that.” She fought the sudden tremor in her voice. “I’ll work harder.”
When it appeared Matt was going to argue, she dug deep for the truth. “I need to work, Matt. It’s all I have.”
She dropped her gaze, hating the vulnerability she knew her expression revealed.
Matt has to understand. I can’t take any time off. What
would I do?
Until six months ago, her leisure time had been divided among her mother, her boyfriend, and her friends. Now her mom was gone, and Dalton had broken off their three-year relationship. And after one too many declines, her few girlfriends quit asking her to participate in their activities.
She had nothing but work.
“That’s what I mean, Carley,” Matt urged. “You are a beautiful woman with no relationships or interests outside of work. You’re slowly withdrawing from life, and it’s noticeable in your writing.” He leaned over the table. “Carley, on a personal note, we’re worried about you.”
“Who is
we
?” She knew the answer. “Katrina?”
Her reporting rival had bumped up a notch to assistant editor awhile back and now latched onto every opportunity to remind Carley of her position.
“Yes, Katrina and I discussed it, Carley, but—”
“She doesn’t like me, Matt.”
Right away she realized the comment sounded childish.
“Not true.” Matt shook his head and pushed an envelope in Carley’s direction. “This is a month’s vacation pay. You’ve accumulated a lot more than that. Take a month off, Carley. Come back refreshed. You should have taken more time off after the accident.”
Carley peered at the envelope on the table as the waitress returned with their lunches and offers of ketchup and extra napkins. “I’m not taking a vacation, Matt. Why should I be forced to use my time right now?”
“Because you wouldn’t like the alternative.” He wrapped his mouth around his burger.
Carley wasn’t hungry for anything except Katrina Peighton’s hide. This was her doing, not Matt’s.
“So let me get this straight. Either I go on vacation or I’m fired?”
“Don’t look at it that way, Carley,” Matt said between bites. “Take advantage of this. I would.”
Her thoughts churned.
What will I do? Sit around my big empty
house?
No. Too much time to think.
She bargained. “I’ll take a week off.”
“A month, Carley. We will welcome you back with open arms in one month.”
By the end of the meal, she’d reluctantly accepted the envelope. Not that she had any choice in the matter. Matt made it quite clear her vacation started directly after lunch.
CARLEY TRIED TO KEEP HER EYES ON THE ROAD AS SHE studied the map laid out beside her on the car seat. She’d never been to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, but a sign flashed by, indicating twenty-six miles to the town of Paradise. Good. She was on the right track.
She watched the farmland scrolling by and thought about seeing Lillian. Her friend had fled the craziness of Houston a year and a half ago, moved in with her Amish grandparents, married an Amish man, and now happily resided in the town of Paradise with her new family. Carley couldn’t help but wonder how much her friend might have changed. From her initial letters Carley knew Lillian’s grandparents’ farm in Paradise had provided Lillian with a safe haven where she could get her life together. But when Lillian wrote to say she had converted and was staying—that was a lot to swallow. Carley couldn’t get past the lack of electricity, much less the fact that Lillian had married Amish widower Samuel Stoltzfus, become a stepmother to his thirteen-year-old son, and now had a baby of her own.
Of course, Carley knew she had changed too. Everything had changed last Christmas Day . . .
According to Lillian’s letters, she had been baptized in the Amish faith—a required step toward marrying an Amish man. Her friend also adhered to all their Plain customs, including the wardrobe. It was an unbelievable transformation. No television, makeup, jewelry. No computer.
Hmm.
Carley eyed her laptop on the floorboard of the rental car. How was she going to charge the battery?
One thing shone through in all Lillian’s letters: she was happy. As a writer, Carley excelled at reading between the lines. She had looked for clues that perhaps Lillian wasn’t as content as she let on. She couldn’t find one. Lillian’s destination seemed to have brought her the peace Carley knew Lillian longed for.
Carley felt like she was still wandering, her own destination unknown.
Which brought her to her current situation. In her last letter to Lillian, Carley had asked her friend if she might come for a visit and do an article about the Amish ways. Lillian quickly responded with an invitation—which Carley accepted the day her forced vacation began. She would put her leave to good use. Even better, she would incorporate work into her trip.
