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Amish Christmas Twins
Patricia Davids
The Widower’s Christmas WishWith Christmas just around the corner, widow Willa Chase will do anything to retain custody of her twin girls and unborn baby—even if it means escaping to her childhood Amish home. After her grandfather turns her away, Willa finds herself stranded at the home of blacksmith John Miller. A widower, John buries himself in work—until Willa’s vibrant twins become impossible to ignore. And before long, John is smitten with their beautiful mother, too. But when Willa’s past secrets are revealed, will they prevent John’s Christmas wish for a happily-ever-after from coming true?Christmas Twins: Twice blessed for the holiday season
The Widower’s Christmas Wish
With Christmas just around the corner, widow Willa Chase will do anything to retain custody of her twin girls and unborn baby—even if it means escaping to her childhood Amish home. After her grandfather turns her away, Willa finds herself stranded at the home of blacksmith John Miller. A widower, John buries himself in work—until Willa’s vibrant twins become impossible to ignore. And before long, John is smitten with their beautiful mother, too. But when Willa’s past secrets are revealed, will they prevent John’s Christmas wish for a happily-ever-after from coming true?
“In spite of the cold, it’s a lovely evening to go caroling, isn’t it?”
The thick snow obscured the horizon and made it feel as if they were riding inside a glass snow globe. The twins tried to catch snowflakes on their tongues between giggles.
Their first destination was only a mile from John’s house. As Lucy and Megan scrambled down from the sleigh, John offered Willa his hand to help her out. When she took it, he gave her an affectionate squeeze. She graced him with a shy smile in return.
“Was this what you imagined Christmas would be like when you decided to return to your Amish family?”
She shook her head. “I never imagined anything like this. Do you do it every year?”
“We do.”
“You aren’t going to actually sing, are you, John?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Nee, but I will hum along.”
“Softly, dear, softly,” she suggested.
He wondered if she realized that she had called him dear. It was turning out to be an even more wonderful night than he had hoped for.
Dear Reader (#ue25a4891-f3bc-51e0-9566-b3db562dc4b2),
First, I want to wish you a blessed Christmas season. Life brings us all unexpected joys and unexpected heartaches, but He is never far from us if we trust in His love and mercy.
The issue of postpartum psychosis is one that attracts attention only when a woman suffering from it does the unthinkable. My grandmother suffered from this illness, although it wasn’t diagnosed as such back in those days. My aunt once told me that my grandfather had to tie a rope to his wife and take her with him into the fields where he worked because he feared she would hurt herself or the children while he was gone. Thankfully, only a very small number of women have such acute cases.
If you would like more information on this illness, I suggest you visit www.postpartum.net (http://www.postpartum.net) and click on the following link: Postpartum psychosis help and info.
There are countless women who have suffered with postpartum psychosis and recovered completely. The key is getting immediate help. If you suspect that someone you love has postpartum psychosis, she should not be alone at any time until a professional diagnosis is received and she is under the continuous care of a healthcare provider.
Bringing awareness of this condition and the need for continuing research was my mission in writing this story. I wanted my grandmother’s illness brought to light, not hidden as it was for so many years. She died before I had the chance to know her. In some small way, this story is my tribute to her.
I pray the holidays bring you many joys, and if you have a schnickelfritz or two in your life, give them a Christmas hug from me.
Blessings,
After thirty-five years as a nurse, PATRICIA DAVIDS hung up her stethoscope to become a full-time writer. She enjoys spending her free time visiting her grandchildren, doing some long-overdue yard work and traveling to research her story locations. She resides in Wichita, Kansas. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her online at patriciadavids.com (http://www.patriciadavids.com).
Amish Christmas Twins
Patricia Davids
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children.
—Isaiah 54:13
This book is happily dedicated to Tony Hill, a wonderful, helpful son-in-law and a loving stepfather to my two precious grandchildren.
Thanks, Tony, for all you do. Love you to pieces. Oh, and don’t forget to mow my lawn.
Mama Pat
Contents
Cover (#u5e3b2819-1460-52ea-af11-979fb5e82320)
Back Cover Text (#u144cf9ef-74b0-502f-a985-d088ac265404)
Introduction (#u6f594348-d035-56f2-b733-0d03e05e08d2)
Dear Reader (#u5b181392-4554-5c8f-ada5-687ef077adcd)
About the Author (#u7f7ebbd4-2623-5aab-ba73-e57e6f055376)
Title Page (#u36d8a2ed-1d99-5fb0-8b7c-277daa37d0e6)
Bible Verse (#u35df2a07-e855-5394-a20d-afee87436939)
Dedication (#uc21fc7e5-7490-5040-8a7e-3bfb5481ef22)
Chapter One (#u73e7c0a1-bfcc-50af-9255-5bda6105f8cf)
Chapter Two (#ua95463e1-a5f8-5246-ac05-b8181a8007d0)
Chapter Three (#uf7c1a3d2-a955-5d71-8591-8ca93eaf9903)
Chapter Four (#u711c3fdb-a162-5dc4-9877-91a8da0cdc6f)
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)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ue25a4891-f3bc-51e0-9566-b3db562dc4b2)
John Miller squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the impact of the bus hurtling toward the back of his wagon.
God have mercy on my soul.
A powerful draft knocked his hat from his head as the bus flew around him, missing his wagon by inches. The reckless driver laid on the horn as he swerved back into the proper lane. John’s frightened team of horses shied off the edge of the highway, jolting the wagon and nearly unseating him.
He quickly brought his animals under control and maneuvered his wagon back onto the roadway. It took longer to get his heart out of his throat. When his erratic pulse settled, he picked up his black Amish hat from where it had fallen onto the floorboards and dusted it against his thigh. God must still have a use for me here on earth. I’m sorry, Katie May. One day I will be with you again.
John shook his head when the bus pulled to a stop a few hundred yards down the highway. “Foolish Englischer. In a hurry to get nowhere fast.”
He settled his hat on his head and glanced back at his cargo. Thankfully, the restored antique sleigh carefully wrapped in a heavy tarp hadn’t shifted. He could ill afford another delay in getting it to its new owner.
His entire trip had been one misadventure after another. He’d left home in plenty of time to complete the two-day journey, but a wrong turn in unfamiliar country had taken him five miles out of his way. One of his tie-downs had snapped, forcing him to lose time rigging another. Then a broken wheel had taken three hours to repair, time he didn’t have to spare. This simple trip could end up costing him as much if not more than a hired hauler would have charged and he was already half a day late for his appointment. He hoped his Englisch client was the understanding sort.
Putting his team in motion, John reached the rear of the bus before it moved on. According to the directions in the letter from his customer, he needed to turn right at the rural intersection just ahead. He waited for the bus driver to move out of the way. After several minutes, he leaned to the side trying to see what the holdup was. A woman in a red coat with a purple backpack slung over her shoulder finally stepped off with two little children in tow. The bus pulled away, belching black fumes that made his horses snort and toss their heads. He spoke softly to quiet them.
The woman stood at the edge of the highway, looking first north and then south as if expecting someone who hadn’t shown up. The roads were empty in all directions except for the bus traveling away from them. The children, both girls about three years old, were clinging to her legs. One rubbed her eyes, the other cried to be picked up. The family’s clothing and uncovered heads told John they weren’t Amish.
He slapped the reins against his team’s rumps and turned his wagon in front of them, glancing at the woman’s face as he did. She looked worried and worn-out, but she smiled and nodded slightly when she met his gaze.
One of her little girls pointed to his team. “Horsey, Mama. See horsey?”
“I do, sweetheart. They’re lovely horses, aren’t they?” Her smile brightened as she glanced down at her daughter. The love in her eyes shone through her weariness. Why wasn’t anyone here to meet them?
“Horses bad,” the other child said, stepping behind her mother.
The woman dropped to one knee and pulled the child close. “No, they aren’t bad. They may look big and scary, but they won’t hurt you. This man tells them what to do. I’m sure they mind him far better than you mind me sometimes.”
The child muttered something he couldn’t make out, but the young mother laughed softly. It was a sweet sound. “No, precious. They won’t step on you and squish you.”
The child latched on to her mother’s neck and muttered, “I tired. Want to go home now.”
He should keep moving. He’d told his client to expect him four hours ago, but it didn’t feel right to drive away and leave this young mother standing alone out here even if she wasn’t Amish. He pulled the horses to a stop and looked down at her. “Do you need help?”
Detaching the child from her neck, she stood up and smoothed the front of her coat with one hand. As she did, he noticed a bulge at her waist. Was she pregnant?
“I’m trying to get my bearings. I haven’t been out this way in years. Do you know an Amish farmer named Ezekiel Lapp?”
Her voice was soft and low. He heard the weariness underlying her tone. The wind blew a strand of her shoulder-length blond curls across her face. She brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear as she looked at him with wide blue eyes.
She was a pretty woman. Her daughters, identical twins by the look of them, were the spitting images of her with blue eyes and curly blond hair. Some man was fortunate to have such handsome children and a lovely wife to come home to at night.
She placed a hand on each little girl’s head in a comforting or perhaps protective gesture, her fingers moving gently through their hair. She raised her chin as she faced him.
The gesture reminded him of his wife, Katie, and sent a painful pang through his chest. Katie used to give him that exact look when she was determined to do things her own way. The woman at the roadside wasn’t physically similar to his wife. She was tiny where Katie had been tall and willowy. She was fair where Katie had been dark, but the two women shared the same stubborn set to their chins and the same determination in their eyes. He smiled in spite of himself.
Katie would have been a good mother, too...if only she had lived.
He shut away his heartbreaking memories. Katie May was gone, their unborn child laid to rest with her. It had been four years since their passing, but his grief was as sharp as if it had been yesterday. Most folks thought he had moved on with his life. He’d tried to, but he couldn’t forgive God or himself for her death.
He looked away from the young woman and her children. “I don’t know him. I’m not from this area.”
Realizing how gruff his voice sounded, he gestured to the tarp on the flatbed wagon behind him. It had taken him eight weeks to restore the sleigh and two days to haul it this far. He was anxious to drop it off and head home. “I’m delivering this sleigh to Melvin Taylor. The directions he sent said he lived four miles south of this intersection. Does that help?”
Her face brightened. “I remember Melvin. He lived a half mile south of Grandfather’s farm. We can find our way now. Thank you. Come on, girls.” She repositioned the backpack on her shoulder and took each girl by the hand as she started down the road.
John didn’t urge his horses to move. A three-and-a-half-mile walk was a lot to ask of such small children, and the woman if she was pregnant. It would be dark before they arrived at their destination. The mid-November day had been pleasant so far, but it would get cold when the sun started to go down.
He didn’t normally concern himself with the affairs of the Englisch, but something about this young woman kept him from driving away. Maybe it was the worry he had glimpsed on her face when he first saw her, or how she spoke so caringly to her girls. Perhaps it was the way she squared her shoulders, looking as if she carried a great weight upon them. He didn’t know what it was, but he couldn’t leave without offering her assistance.
Maybe it was because she reminded him of Katie.
This is foolish. They’ll be fine on their own. An Amish family wouldn’t think twice about walking that far.
However, an Amish mother and her children would be properly dressed with heavy coats and sturdy shoes. The thin white shoes on this woman’s feet didn’t look as if they would last a mile. He sighed heavily and urged his team forward to catch up with her.
He pulled his horses to a halt beside her. “It’s a long walk, frau. I can give you a lift. I’m going in the same direction.”
She stopped walking and eyed him with obvious indecision. “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.” It was, but it would trouble him more to leave her.
“We’ll be fine.” She started walking again.
Stubborn woman. “It will be dark before you get there. The kinder, the children, already look tired.”
She glanced at her girls and then at him. “You’re right, they are tired. It was a long bus ride from...home.” Her gaze slid away from his.
He didn’t care where she was from or why she didn’t want to share that information. The more time he spent reasoning with her, the longer his client would be waiting. He leaned toward her. “Then hand the children up to me and save them a long walk.”
She hesitated, chewing on the corner of her lower lip.
