Her Secret Amish Child

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Both turned and waved as they pedaled off. He wondered about the widow wearing a different colored dress now. Did that mean she was over her time of mourning? When she’d arrived in Pinecraft she’d still dressed in black.

He knew grief could make a woman distant and unfriendly, but Lizbeth seemed friendlier now. Perhaps he’d done the right thing putting her name on his list of potential women to step out with. The fact she had a boy didn’t bother him one bit. It just made his odds better, since she might be looking for a prospective husband to help raise her son. And she might not expect a potential husband to immediately surrender his heart.

He looked back at the simple wood house and lifted his shoulders as he took in a long, contented breath. He or Ulla would tell John he’d bought the house. No doubt the man could find another house for Lizbeth, but until Fredrik found a suitable wife, he was in no hurry. The widow could rent from him and live in the house if she wanted. He didn’t mind sharing, but she’d have to move once he married. He truly believed Gott would help him find his bride soon.

Fredrik made his way back to the apartment door, his gaze wandering to the backyard shaded by a big oak draped full of hanging moss. Lizbeth’s son seemed full of energy. This yard would have been the perfect place for a boy like him to play. It still could be.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he opened the solid wooden apartment door he’d left ajar and stepped back inside, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light. The picture window at the side of the big room had a set of closed, wide wooden blinds that blotted out the daylight. He tugged on their dangling cord and stepped back as dust floated on the sunlight flooding the room. The walls had once been a bright white, but now looked yellow with age. Just as he’d thought, they would need to be washed down and painted.