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The Amish Mother
Rebecca Kertz
Unexpected LoveAmish widow Lizzie Fisher loves her seven stepchildren as though they were her own. But her brother-in-law's unexpected arrival on the farm has her worried. After all, Zachariah Fisher is the true heir of the property. And he could decide to send her away from her family and her home of two years. Lizzie is determined to show the handsome farmer that her physical challenges don't prevent her from being a hard worker or a loving mother. For she finds herself losing her heart to Zack and hopes he'll see they're meant to be a family forever.Lancaster Courtships: Life and love in Amish countryCollect all 3 book in the series!The Amish Bride by Emme MillerThe Amish Mother by Rebecca KertzThe Amish Midwife by Patricia Davids
Unexpected Love
Amish widow Lizzie Fisher loves her seven stepchildren as though they were her own. But her brother-in-law’s unexpected arrival on the farm has her worried. After all, Zachariah Fisher is the true heir of the property. And he could decide to send her away from her family and her home of two years. Lizzie is determined to show the handsome farmer that her physical challenges don’t prevent her from being a hard worker or a loving mother. For she finds herself losing her heart to Zach and hopes he’ll see they’re meant to be a family forever.
“I thought I’d stay for a while,” Zack said.
Lizzie gasped. “But that wouldn’t be proper…” The thought of having Zack on the farm was disturbing.
She became unsettled when Zack put her in the focus of his dark gaze. “I’ll send for my mudder—and my sister Esther,” he said easily. “The three of us can stay there comfortably.”
Lizzie felt a feeling of dread. “But—”
“Not to worry, Lizzie Fisher.” He flashed her a friendly smile as he buttered the muffin. “I’ll head home and then accompany them back to Honeysuckle. I won’t be moving in without someone as chaperone.”
But that wasn’t all that concerned Lizzie. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he—they—would be staying. Why did he want to stay? She’d never met her mother-in-law or any of Abraham’s siblings. What if they didn’t like her? What if they judged her incapable of managing the farm and decided she was no longer needed?
Could she bear to be parted from her children?
Because, in her heart, they were her children, although she hadn’t given birth to them.
What would the future hold?
REBECCA KERTZ was first introduced to the Amish when her husband took a job with an Amish construction crew. She enjoyed watching the Amish foreman’s children at play and swapping recipes with his wife. Rebecca resides in Delaware with her husband and dog. She has a strong faith in God and feels blessed to have family nearby. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, doing crafts and visiting Lancaster County.
The Amish Mother
Rebecca Kertz
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
In my distress I cried unto the Lord,
and He heard me.
—Psalms 120:1
For Maggie, Ellie and Ainsley with love
Contents
Cover (#u152df11b-5782-5e0d-ae86-86be719a0c72)
Back Cover Text (#u76f6453a-0c47-5cb8-9072-d4b3d021630d)
Introduction (#u45544142-8ffa-5aca-911c-825fa9625747)
About the Author (#u2935506e-fdd6-5ae5-a5cf-d3bd3eb16c2a)
Title Page (#uc1aaa47e-5180-546a-9683-8560fc3849b9)
Bible Verse (#u7643a442-b1c5-5413-9368-563f0574f2d7)
Dedication (#u2128b130-13f3-5609-87a6-929524f74081)
Chapter One (#u150b0523-9f3c-5641-a983-3cc0a403fddc)
Chapter Two (#u60d8fde9-b74f-599f-ac92-d21ce521078c)
Chapter Three (#ue749799e-8866-5eae-bbbb-b72874aece14)
Chapter Four (#ubd4d066a-0778-5462-9b2e-b20d10bccab9)
Chapter Five (#u8e239b16-2fd6-582a-8988-85d1e3cfdb98)
Chapter Six (#u2c356ff1-9299-51b0-b957-372a5e0521a6)
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)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_00fd2911-7773-5c87-ab02-caf3b7c51a02)
Lancaster County, Pennsylvania
The apple trees were thick with bright, red juicy fruit waiting to be picked. Elizabeth King Fisher stepped out of the house into the sunshine and headed toward the twin apple trees in the backyard.
“You sit here,” she instructed her three youngest children, who’d accompanied her. She spread a blanket on the grass for them. “I’ll pick and give them to you to put in the basket. Ja?”
“Ja, Mam,” little Anne said as she sat down first and gestured for her brothers to join her.
Lizzie smiled. “You boys help your sister?” Jonas and Ezekiel nodded vigorously. “Goot boys!” she praised, and they beamed at her.
“What do you think we should make with these?” she said as she handed three apples to Jonas. “An apple pie? Apple crisp?”
“Candy apples!” Ezekiel exclaimed. He was three years old and the baby of the family, and he had learned recently about candy apples, having tasted one when they’d gone into town earlier this week.
Lizzie grinned as she bent to ruffle his hair. Ezekiel had taken off his small black-banded straw hat and set it on the blanket next to him. “Candy apples,” she said. “I can make those.”
The older children were nowhere in sight. Elizabeth’s husband, Abraham, had fallen from the barn loft to his death just over two months ago, and the family was still grieving. Lizzie had tears in her eyes as she reached up to pull a branch closer to pick the fruit. If only I hadn’t urged him to get the kittens down from the loft...
Tomorrow would have been their second wedding anniversary. She had married Abraham shortly after the children’s mother had passed, encouraged strongly by her mother to do so. She’d been seventeen years old at the time, but she’d been crippled her entire life.
“Abraham Fisher is a goot man, Lizzie,” she remembered her mother saying. “He needs a mother for his children and someone to care for his home. You should take his offer of marriage, for in your condition you may not get another one.”
My condition, Lizzie thought. She suffered from developmental hip dysplasia, and she walked with a noticeable limp that worsened after standing for long periods of time. But she was a hard worker and could carry the weight of her chores as well as the rest of the women in her Amish community.
Limping Lizzie, the children had called her when she was a child. There had been other names, including Duckie because of her duck-like gait, which was caused by a hip socket too shallow to keep in the femoral head, the ball at the top of her long leg bone. Most of the children didn’t mean to be cruel, but the names hurt just the same.
Lizzie had spent her young life proving that it didn’t matter that one leg was longer than the other; yet her mother had implied otherwise when she’d urged Lizzie to marry Abraham, a grieving widower with children.
Abraham had still been grieving for his first wife when he’d married her, but she’d accepted his grief along with the rest of the family’s. His children missed their mother. The oldest two girls, Mary Ruth and Hannah, resented Lizzie. The younger children had welcomed her, as they needed someone to hug and love them and be their mother. And they were too young to understand.
Mary Ruth, Abraham’s eldest, had been eleven at the time of her mother’s death, her sister Hannah almost ten. Both girls were angry with their mother for dying and angrier still at Lizzie for filling the void.
Lizzie picked several more apples, handing the children a number of them so that they would feel important as they placed them carefully in the basket.
“Can we eat one?” Anne asked.
“With your midday meal,” Lizzie said. She glanced up at the sky and noted the position of the sun, which was directly overhead. “Are you hungry?” All three youngsters nodded vigorously. She reached to pick up the basket, which was full and heavy. She didn’t let on that her leg ached as she straightened with the basket in hand. “Let’s get you something to eat, then.”
The children followed her into the large white farmhouse. When she entered through the back doorway, she saw the kitchen sink was filled with dirty dishes. She sighed as she set the basket on one end of the counter near the stove.
“Mary Ruth!” she called. “Hannah!” When there was no response, she called for them again. Matthew, who was eight, entered the kitchen from the front section of the house. “Have you seen your older sisters?” Lizzie asked him.
He shrugged. “Upstairs. Not sure what they’re doing.”
“Matt, are you hungry?” When the boy nodded, Lizzie said, “If you’ll go up and tell your sisters to come down, I’ll make you all something to eat.”
Jonas grabbed his older brother’s arm as Matt started to leave. “Mam’s going to make candy apples,” he said.
Matthew opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he glanced toward the basket of apples instead and smiled. “Sounds goot. I like candy apples.” Little Jonas grinned at him.
Matt left and then returned moments later, followed by his older sisters, Mary Ruth, Hannah and Rebecca, who had been upstairs in their room.
“You didn’t do the dishes,” Lizzie said to Mary Ruth.
The girl regarded her with a sullen expression. “I didn’t know it was my turn.”
“I’ll do them,” Rebecca said.
“That’s a nice offer, Rebecca,” Lizzie told her, “but ’tis Mary Ruth’s turn, so I think she should do it.” She smiled at the younger girl. “But you can help me make the candy apples later this afternoon after I hang the laundry.” She met Hannah’s gaze. “Did you strip the beds?”
Hannah nodded. “I put the linens near the washing machine.”
Lizzie smiled. “Danki, Hannah.” She heard Mary Ruth grumble beneath her breath. “Did you say something you’d like to share?” she asked softly.
“Nay,” Mary Ruth replied.
“I thought not.” She went to the refrigerator. “What would you like to eat?” Their main meal was usually at midday, but their schedule had differed occasionally since Abraham’s death because of the increase in her workload. Still, she had tried to keep life the same as much as possible.
“I can make them a meal,” Mary Ruth challenged. Lizzie turned, saw her defiant expression and then nodded. The girl was hurting. If Mary Ruth wanted to cook for her siblings, then why not let her? She had taught her to be careful when using the stove.
“That would be nice, Mary Ruth,” she said. “I’ll hang the clothes while you feed your brooders and sisters.” And she headed toward the back room where their gas-powered washing machine was kept, sensing that the young girl was startled. Lizzie retrieved a basket of wet garments and headed toward the clothesline outside.
The basket was only moderately heavy as she carried it to a spot directly below the rope. She felt comfortable leaving the children in the kitchen, for she could see inside through the screen door.
A soft autumn breeze stirred the air and felt good against her face. Lizzie bent, chose a wet shirt and pinned it on the line. She worked quickly and efficiently, her actions on the task but her gaze continually checking inside to see the children seated at the kitchen table.
“Elizabeth Fisher?” a man’s voice said, startling her.
Lizzie gasped and spun around. She hadn’t heard his approach from behind her. She’d known before turning that he was Amish as he had spoken in Deitsch, the language spoken within her community. Her eyes widened as she stared at him. The man wore a black-banded, wide-brimmed straw hat, a blue shirt and black pants held up by black suspenders. He looked like her deceased husband, Abraham, only younger and more handsome.
“You’re Zachariah,” she said breathlessly. Her heart picked up its beat as she watched him frown. “I’m Lizzie Fisher.”
* * *
Zachariah stared at the woman before him in stunned silence. She was his late brother’s widow? He’d been shocked to receive news of Abraham’s death, even more startled to learn the news from Elizabeth Fisher, who had identified herself in her letter as his late brother’s wife.
