Suzanne Woods Fisher - The Waiting

Books by Suzanne Woods Fisher

Amish Peace: Simple Wisdom for a Complicated World
Amish Proverbs: Words of Wisdom from the Simple Life

LANCASTER COUNTY SECRETS

The Choice
The Waiting

LANCASTER COUNTY SECRETS

Book 2

The WAITING
A NOVEL

Suzanne Woods Fisher

2010 by Suzanne Woods Fisher

Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com

E-book edition created 2010

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means for example, electronic, photocopy, recording without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

ISBN 978-1-4412-1301-3

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

Scripture used in this book, whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters, is taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Published in association with Joyce Hart of the Hartline Literary Agency, LLC.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Love and thanks to all my family,
near and far.

Contents

Morning dew shimmered in the warm summer sun as Jorie King led the last horse to a paddock by the road. She unhitched the halter and gave the horse a swat on his hindquarters to hustle him into the pasture. She couldnt help but smile. A stubborn one, he was. Must be part mule.

As she swung the gate closed, she noticed a car at the end of the driveway. A stranger leaned against the hood of the car, his arms crossed against his chest. When the man spotted Jorie, he waved to her and called out, Hey there! Maam! Any idea how far to a gasoline station?

Jorie latched the paddock gate and walked over to him. About two miles, she said, pointing up the road.

The man regarded Jorie with mild curiosity, tilting his head as he appraised her prayer cap and Plain clothes. My car ran out of gas.

Jorie spotted her neighbor across the street, leading some cows to their pasture to graze. Ephraim! she called out, waving to the boy. Ephraim, would you bring a can of gasoline down here?

Ephraim did a double take when he noticed the stranger. Jorie swallowed a smile at the boys reaction not many men in Stoney Ridge had skin the color of chocolate. A few cows split off and wandered into the cornfield before Ephraim suddenly remembered them and rounded them up. He guided them through the pasture gate, locked it, and waved to Jorie as he ran up the long drive to the barn.

Jorie waited for the tall dark man to speak again. The stranger seemed at ease with silence. His gaze followed Ephraim until he disappeared into the barn, and then the mans eyes swept across the countryside in front of them. I think that might just be the most beautiful place Ive ever seen.

Jorie looked over to take in the sight of the farm: the two-story white frame house nestled against a hill. A gray-topped buggy leaning on its traces by the large barn. About halfway up the drive, a ribbon of a creek wove parallel to the house. On the banks of the creek sat an enormous willow tree that provided shelter to a handful of sheep. And surrounding the house were acres and acres of fields, straight and even rows of corn and wheat. The only sound punctuating the stillness was a distant neighbor calling for his cows. Thats Beacon Hollow. It belongs to my neighbors, the Zooks.

Clear to see theyre good farmers, he said as his eyes scanned the farm.

They stood silently, waiting for Ephraim, listening to the husky whisper of the dry August corn in the fields. The Zooks have always been farmers, she finally said, breaking the quiet. They were some of the first settlers around here. Now the land is farmed by four brothers. She looked up the drive to see Ephraim on his way down the hill, lugging a red can of gasoline with two hands. Ephraim is one of the brothers.

Dont tell me theyre all as young as him, managing a big farm like that!

Jorie smiled. No. Hes the youngest. The oldest brother is Caleb. He and his wife Mary Ann are really running the farm. Matthew hes eighteen he does quite a bit of work.

Wheres the third brother?

Jorie hesitated. That would be Ben. Hes in Vietnam.

The man looked at her curiously. Pardon me for asking, maam, but I thought the Amish didnt fight in wars.

Jories chin lifted a notch. Hes not fighting. Hes a conscientious objector.

Ephraim crossed the road with the full gas can and gave a shy nod to the stranger. The man poured the gasoline into his tank and tightened the cap, then handed the can back to Ephraim. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet, opened it, and took out a few dollars to hand to Ephraim. Let me pay you for the gasoline.

Ephraim shook his head. No n-need.

The man offered the money to Jorie, but she waved it away.

Im beholden to you. And I like to pay my debts. He peered into his wallet. Say, do you like wild animals? When Ephraims eyebrows shot up with interest, the man smiled and held out two tickets. These are tickets to the Mezzo Brothers Circus & Menagerie that just came to Lancaster. Most of the animals are on the shady side of retirement, but theres a young cougar. The trainer said he just bought it off of a trapper in West Virginia last week.

Ephraim shot a sideways glance to Jorie before accepting the tickets. She smiled and gave a brief nod. If Cal and Mary Ann objected, she would explain the circumstances, maybe even offer to take Ephraim to the circus. Everybody knew how he loved animals.

He put down the gasoline can to study the tickets, a look of wonder on his face. They r-really have a c-cougar?

They used to roam free in Pennsylvania, the man said. The last one was killed in the 1930s. He put a hand on his car door, but his gaze had settled on the horses behind Jorie, as if watching them eat was the most fascinating thing in the world. Are those Belgian drafts?

Percherons, Jorie said.

Ephraim pointed to Jories driveway. That l-leads to S-Stoney Creek, the K-Kings farm. They b-breed Percherons. He looked back at the man. Most every P-Percheron around here is f-from the K-Kings. N-No one knows horses l-like Atlee K-King. He gave Jorie a shy smile.

She was surprised and pleased that Ephraim spoke to the man. He didnt talk much, especially around strangers, self-conscious of his stutter.

They sure are beautiful creatures, the man said. A colt peered over the pasture fence at them for a moment, then tossed his dark mane and trotted off down a dirt trail to join his mother.

The clang of a dinner bell floated down on the wind. Ephraims head jerked toward the farmhouse at Beacon Hollow. Friehschtick! Breakfast! He gave a quick nod to Jorie and the man, grabbed the empty gasoline can, and set off at a sprint up the long drive to the farmhouse.