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A Widow's Hope
Vannetta Chapman
His scars are visible.Hers are hidden…An Indiana Amish Brides matchAfter tragedy claimed her husband's life and her son's ability to walk, Hannah King doesn't want a new man. She has her family, a home and mounting debts. Scarred Amish bachelor Jacob Schrock offers Hannah the job she desperately needs. But while Hannah helps Jacob resolve his accounting issues, can she and her little boy also heal his wounded heart?
His scars are visible.
Hers are hidden...
An Indiana Amish Brides match
After tragedy claimed her husband’s life and her son’s ability to walk, Hannah King doesn’t want a new man. She has her family, a home and mounting debts. Scarred Amish bachelor Jacob Schrock offers Hannah the job she desperately needs. But while Hannah helps Jacob resolve his accounting issues, can she and her little boy also heal his wounded heart?
VANNETTA CHAPMAN has published over one hundred articles in Christian family magazines, receiving over two dozen awards from Romance Writers of America chapter groups. She discovered her love for the Amish while researching her grandfather’s birthplace of Albion, Pennsylvania. Her first novel, A Simple Amish Christmas, quickly became a bestseller. Chapman lives in the Texas Hill Country with her husband.
Also By Vannetta Chapman (#u11cbee26-a654-5945-b19d-a38c9d8cd17e)
Love Inspired
Indiana Amish Brides
A Widow’s Hope
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A Widow’s Hope
Vannetta Chapman
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08551-9
A WIDOW’S HOPE
© 2018 Vannetta Chapman
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“I need to apologize, Jacob...”
Hannah glanced up at Jacob, and then away. “I was rude to you yesterday, and I’m very sorry. I know better than to speak harshly, let alone to someone who is being kind to us.”
“It’s my fault. I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong.”
Now she laughed outright. “Perhaps you did, but it was probably something I needed to hear.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Danki.”
“Gem gschene.” The age-old words felt curiously intimate, shared there on the bench with the sun slanting through golden trees.
“It’s a fine line,” Hannah said. “Giving him the extra attention and care his condition requires, but not being overly protective. I’m afraid I’m still learning.”
“You’re doing a wunderbar job.”
Which caused her to smile again, and then suddenly the tension that had been between them was gone.
He realized that what Hannah was offering with her apology was a precious thing—her friendship.
For now, he needed to be satisfied with that.
And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God.
—Romans 8:28
The Lord hath heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer.
—Psalms 6:9
Dear Reader (#u11cbee26-a654-5945-b19d-a38c9d8cd17e),
Sometimes life’s burdens can seem terribly heavy, and yet we have the assurance that all things work together for the good of those that love God. He has wonderful things planned for us—the very best things—and He loves us more than we can begin to imagine.
Hannah is a young mother who had envisioned a very different future for herself—she would have a houseful of children, relish the steady and faithful love of her husband, and live a plain and simple life. But even Amish lives are touched by tragedy. When she returns home, she is reminded of the comfort of family, and she also remeets Jacob. God knows Hannah’s hurts, and He is planning a future for her all along.
Jacob has endured his own tragedies, and yet to some degree he has come to terms with his solitary existence. But he doesn’t see himself as God sees him—as a beautiful creation. He doesn’t believe anyone would want to spend their life with him. Then one day he shows up to build a playhouse and finds his future waiting for him.
I hope you enjoyed reading A Widow’s Hope. I would love to hear from you. Feel free to email me at vannettachapman@gmail.com.
Together may we “always give thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20).
Blessings,
Vannetta
This book is dedicated to JoAnn King, who has recently become an avid reader. JoAnn, you’re a constant source of encouragement and joy. Thank you for your friendship.
Acknowledgments (#u11cbee26-a654-5945-b19d-a38c9d8cd17e)
I would like to thank Melissa Endlich for inviting me to join the wonderful group of authors at Harlequin/Love Inspired. I’d also like to thank my fellow LI authors who have willingly answered questions, explained procedures and offered guidance. Thank you to Steve Laube for overseeing my career.
And a big thanks of gratitude to my husband, Bob, for getting up at first-bark and taking care of pets, laundry, grocery shopping, cooking and the countless other things that I neglect because I’m squirreled away in my office.
And finally, “Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20).
Contents
Cover (#uc0ca8574-17c4-5e42-8d10-d6b6ba793362)
Back Cover Text (#u859fcb50-4c1a-54d6-b8ab-7cfb438d6a5c)
About the Author (#u3a62eecc-bb85-5a90-ac70-a94b8b5fd75d)
Booklist (#u1fc02b34-b3ff-54a3-9a68-ebbb66f239f6)
Title Page (#u84b9dece-14b6-5a47-b5ef-667d009cd0b3)
Copyright (#u88a4c3ff-70a6-5de8-9c86-1eab54623986)
Introduction (#uf63b9dcb-380f-54cf-80e1-fc73c621115f)
Bible Verse (#u48dc41b0-1db3-569a-aade-cf0bb1925f0f)
Dear Reader (#uf1e8a77b-2c96-595e-9fec-083c417c9472)
Dedication (#ua946f204-0e70-5e3b-b39d-e80b5bd1aa29)
Acknowledgments (#uc05ef2bb-ae49-59b7-b802-a79a4dae3196)
Chapter One (#u80e9a055-1399-55aa-9c1b-f27108dbb838)
Chapter Two (#u3e7d79d7-2c6e-5f83-ac3e-8ae5aa795cfb)
Chapter Three (#u7e6efae0-4694-5498-b64e-4c63ef84001a)
Chapter Four (#ufdba52d5-5e0a-568b-8543-52be3e496f3b)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u11cbee26-a654-5945-b19d-a38c9d8cd17e)
Monday mornings were never easy. Though Hannah King heard her four-year-old son calling, she longed to bury her head under the covers and let her mother take care of him. She’d had a dream about David. It had been so real—David kissing her on their wedding day, David standing beside her as she cradled their newborn son, David moving about the room quietly as he prepared for work.
But he wasn’t in the room with her, and he never would be again. A late-summer breeze stirred the window shade. In the distance she could hear the clip-clop of horses on the two-lane, a rooster’s crow, the low of a cow. Summer would be over soon. Here in northern Indiana, where she’d grown up, September was met with a full schedule of fall festivals and pumpkin trails and harvest celebrations. She dreaded it all—had no desire to walk through the bright leaves, or decorate with pumpkins or bake apple pies. Fall had been David’s favorite time of year. Matthew was born in September. The accident? It had occurred the last week of August. That terrible anniversary was one week away.
This year, the thought of autumn overwhelmed her. Her entire life left her feeling tired and unable to cope. She was happy to be home with her parents, but she hadn’t realized the extent of their financial troubles until she’d already moved in. Their church in Wisconsin had used money from the benevolence fund to pay for Matthew’s surgeries, but her parents had paid for all of his rehab from their savings. Now they were operating month-to-month, and the stress was beginning to show. She needed to find a job, to help them with the bills, but how could she work when her primary responsibility was to care for Matthew?
She should at least make an attempt to find employment, but she wanted and needed to be home with her son. If she were honest with herself, she dreaded the thought of interacting with other people on a daily basis. She hadn’t enough energy for that.
Hannah pushed off the bedcovers, slipped her feet into a pair of worn house shoes and hurried to the room next door as her mother stepped into the hall.
“I can take care of him if you like.”
“Nein. I’m awake.”
She should have said more, should have thanked her mother, but the memory of David was too heavy on her heart, her emotions too raw. So instead she quickly glanced away and opened the door to Matthew’s room.
Though her son was four years old, soon to be five, he still slept in a bed with rails along the side. This was mainly to keep him from falling out.
The thinnest sliver of morning light shone through the gap between the window and the shade, fell across the room and landed on little Matthew. He was lying on his back, his legs splayed out in front of him. Matthew smiled and raised his arms to her, but instead of picking him up, Hannah lowered the wooden rail that her dat had fastened to the bed and sat beside him. Matthew struggled to a sitting position and pulled himself into her lap. For a four-year-old, his arms were incredibly strong, probably to make up for the fact that his legs were useless.
“Gudemariye, Mamm.” The Pennsylvania Dutch rolled off his tongue, thick with sleep.
“Good morning to you, Matthew.”
He reached up and touched her face, patted her cheek, then snuggled in closer.
She gave him a few minutes. Long ago, she’d learned that Matthew needed time to wake up, to adjust to the world. When he was ready, he said, “Potty?”
“Sure thing, Matt.”
But before she could pick him up, her father was standing in the doorway. No doubt he’d been awake for hours, and he carried into the room the familiar smells of the barn—hay, horses and even a little manure. It was an earthy smell that Hannah never tired of.
“I thought I heard young Matthew awake.”
