Love Comes to Paradise

  HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

  EUGENE, OREGON

  Scripture verses are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, IL 60189 USA. All rights reserved. Verses are also taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota

  Cover photos © Chris Garborg; Bigstock / Volohatiuk

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  LOVE COMES TO PARADISE

  Copyright © 2013 by Mary Ellis

  Published by Harvest House Publishers

  Eugene, Oregon 97402

  www.harvesthousepublishers.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Ellis, Mary,

  Love comes to Paradise / Mary Ellis.

  p. cm.—(New beginnings series; bk. 2)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-3867-9 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-4300-0 (eBook)

  1. Young women—Fiction. 2. Life change events—Fiction. 3. Reputation—Fiction. 4. Triangles (Interpersonal relations)—Fiction. 5. Amish—Fiction. 6. Missouri—Fiction.

  I. Title.

  PS3626.E36L68 2013

  813’.6—dc22

  2012031186

  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—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  THERE IS A FOUNTAIN

  William Cowper, lyrics 1771

  There is a fountain filled with blood

  Drawn from Immanuel’s veins

  And sinners plunged beneath that flood

  Lose all their guilty stains.

  The dying thief rejoiced to see

  That fountain in his day

  And there may I, though vile as he,

  Wash all my sins away.

  Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood

  Shall never lose its power

  Till all the ransomed church of God

  Be saved, to sin no more.

  Ever since by faith, I saw the stream

  Thy flowing wounds supply

  Redeeming love has been my theme

  And shall be till I die.

  When this poor lisping, stammering tongue

  Lies silent in the grave

  Then in a nobler, sweeter song

  I’ll sing thy power to save.

  On that day a fountain will be opened for the dynasty of David and for the people of Jerusalem, a fountain to cleanse them from all their sins and impurity.

  ZECHARIAH 13:1

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to Robert Tucker of the Taylor House Inn in Columbia, Missouri, for providing a fabulous place to stay.

  Thanks to Kay and Judy, sisters from Higbee, along with patrons of Crossroads Restaurant in Sturgeon, Missouri, for answering my endless questions.

  Thanks to Rosanna Coblentz of the Old Order Amish for the delicious recipes.

  Thanks to my agent, Mary Sue Seymour, who had faith in me from the beginning; to my lovely proofreader, Joycelyn Sullivan; and to my pastor, Daniel Jarvis, for his inspiring, “fiery” sermons.

  Thanks to my editor, Kim Moore, and the wonderful staff at Harvest House Publishers.

  Finally, thanks to the charming Old Order Amish of Randolph, Audrain, and Boone Counties who allowed me to peek into their lives. Although those counties are real, Paradise, Missouri, is a fictional town.

  Contents

  There Is a Fountain

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Recipes

  Discussion Questions

  A Little Bit of Charm: Sample Chapter

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  ONE

  There is a fountain filled with blood

  Are you lost, miss? This is the bus to Columbia.”

  Nora King almost jumped out of her high-top shoes. She turned to find a kind ebony face inches from her own.

  “I don’t think I am. Do you mean Columbia, Missouri?” She shifted the heavy duffel bag to her other hand.

  The bus driver chuckled, revealing several gold teeth. “It’s the only one we’ve got. You’re a long way from South Carolina. Want me to stow your bag in the underbelly, or do you want it in the overhead?”

  The question dumbfounded Nora as people jostled past on both sides. “I’m not sure,” she murmured. In fact, she wasn’t sure of much since leaving Maine. Who would have thought it would be so hard to get to Missouri? It certainly hadn’t been such an ordeal to travel from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, to Harmony, Maine, last year.

  The bus driver straightened after stowing several suitcases into a large compartment above the wheels.

  “It’s a little more than two hours to Columbia from here, St. Louis.” He pointed at the ground, in case she truly was lost. “Is there anything you will need from your bag during the drive? Snacks, reading material, personal items?”

  “Jah…I mean, yes.” Nora flushed as she lapsed into her Deutsch dialect. “Sorry, I’m Amish.”

  He offered another magnificent smile. “That much I figured out on my own. Because your bag isn’t too large and you’ll need things, feel free to stow it in the rack above your head. But you’ll want to climb on up and find a seat. It’s time to go.” The driver gestured toward the steps and then resumed packing luggage into the compartment.

  Nora had no idea why she was acting so uncertain of herself. She’d ridden plenty of buses in her lifetime—just not on any this side of the Mississippi River. She was in the West and in the new home state of Elam Detweiler. That thought left her weak in the knees. Nevertheless, she joined the queue boarding the bus in the St. Louis terminal and started the second-to-last leg of her journey. Soon she was inside the vehicle and looking for a seat.

  “Nora? Nora King?” An unfamiliar female voice sang out.

  Nora gazed over a sea of English faces, yet none seemed particularly interested in her.

  “Back here, Nora.” A small hand waved in the air, midway down the aisle.

  Nora inched her way forward, careful not to bump anyone with her overstuffed bag. Her sister Amy had sewed her several dresses, along with lots of white prayer kapps, and then bought her brand-new underwear. Nora should have brought a bigger suitcase. After hefting up her bag and jamming it between two others, she looked into the blue eyes of the person calling her name—a pretty girl around her own age.

  “You’re A-Amish,” she stammered.

  “I am. Did you think you would be the only one on board?” The girl became even prettier when she smiled. “Sit here with me and stop blocking the aisle.” She patted the vinyl seat beside her.

  Acutely aware people were growing impatient behind her, Nora did as she was told. “Danki, I will.”

  “I’m Violet, and
I’m your official welcome-to-Missouri committee. My mother and me, that is.” She hooked a thumb toward the rear of the bus. “My mamm moved to another seat so you and I could get acquainted during the ride.” Violet straightened her apron over her dress with an expression of joy with her idea.

  Nora peeked over the seat. Two rows back a sweet-faced woman lifted her hand in a wave. She appeared old enough to be the girl’s grossmammi, not her mother. “Danki for saving a seat and for the welcome, but how did you know I would take this bus?”

  “Our meeting was arranged by Emily Gingerich, sister of Sally Detweiler, sister-in-law to your sister Amy Detweiler. Hmm, does that make Sally your sister-in-law too? I don’t know how that works, but it doesn’t really matter because you’re here now, and soon we’ll be in Columbia. My father arranged for a hired van to take us the rest of the way to Paradise.”

  Nora blinked like an owl, bewildered despite Violet’s detailed explanation. “I see,” she said unconvincingly.

  “Forgive me for chattering like a magpie. My daed says I run off at the mouth to make up for the fact I can’t run around.” She laughed without restraint.

  “I don’t mind. Talk all you want. But are running or jogging frowned upon in your local Ordnung?” Nora was eager to learn the rules and regulations after her experience in the ultraconservative district of Harmony, Maine.

  “Goodness, no. You can run until you drop over with a side-stitch if you like. But I can’t due to bum legs.” She patted her dress where her kneecaps would be. “I fell from the barn loft when I was four years old. I’d sneaked up the ladder when my sister wasn’t looking, even though my parents had warned me a hundred times to stay away from it.”

  “Oh, my. You’re lucky you weren’t killed.” Nora noticed with pleasure that Violet’s dress was a soft shade of sea blue. The Harmony Ordnung had allowed only dark or dull colors: navy, black, brown, or olive green.

  “That’s the truth. I don’t have to stay in a wheelchair all the time. I can hobble around on crutches, but I tire out quickly.”

  “At least a wheelchair is more comfortable than the hard, backless benches at the preaching services. And you’ll always have a place to sit at social events.”

  Violet threw her head back and laughed. Her freckles seemed to dance across her nose. “You have a great attitude! You’re not uncomfortable with me being handicapped?”

  Nora stared at her as the bus pulled out of the depot. “Of course not. What difference does it make whether or not you can run? I can always push your wheelchair fast if you need to get some place in a hurry.”

  Without warning, Violet threw both arms around Nora and squeezed. “You and I might end up being good friends.”

  A perfect stranger until ten minutes ago.

  An expression of affection from a human being other than her sister Amy.

  “That would be nice. I don’t have any friends in Missouri. I only had two in Maine, and I didn’t have many in Lancaster, either.” Nora smoothed out the wrinkles in her mud-brown dress, wishing she’d worn one of the new ones.

  Violet’s eyes rounded. “You lived in Lancaster? I’ve heard stories about how crowded that county has become. Many Old Order folks have resettled here because they couldn’t find affordable farmland to buy in Pennsylvania.”

  Nora’s stomach lurched, and it had nothing to do with the bus gaining speed on the freeway entrance ramp. “Please don’t tell me that where I’m headed has only a dozen families and a town the size of a postage stamp. There were just a couple hundred Amish people in three communities in the entire state of Maine.”

  “You’re moving to a place you know nothing about?” Violet drew back, clucking her tongue. “There are nine thousand Amish in Missouri in thirty-eight settlements and at least ninety districts. Does that brighten your day a bit? The city of Columbia is only an hour away with beautiful parks and nature areas and a super-duper mall.” She leaned over conspiratorially. “But don’t tell my daed that mamm and I went there twice after doctors’ appointments. We didn’t buy anything except for a giant pretzel. We just looked around at the stuff Englischers spend their hard-earned money on. My father has no use for English malls, but I think they are quite fun.”

  Grinning, Nora relaxed against the headrest. She liked Violet already. “Harmony would be nice if I were ready to marry and raise a family, like my sister Amy. But for a single woman, not wanting to settle down yet, it was deader than an anthill in January.”

  “In that case you’ll like Paradise. We have almost forty Amish businesses in town and spread throughout the county. Lots of bakeries; mercantiles; doll shops; and quilt, craft, and antique stores, as well as manly businesses such as lumberyards, feed-and-seed stores, leather tanners, and carriage shops. You’ll have no trouble finding a job.” Violet dug a package of crackers from her purse and offered some to her companion.

  Nora took one to calm her queasy stomach. “You mean your Ordnung permits women to work?”

  “Of course women are allowed to work. Where did you say you came from? Maine or Mars?”

  Nora choked on a bite of cracker. “The two were pretty much the same thing,” she said after a sip of water. “Women were forbidden to take jobs outside their homes.”

  “Usually women here quit work once they marry and the bopplin start arriving, but until then people will scratch their heads or shake a stick if you sit around the house twiddling your thumbs.” She leaned over to whisper into Nora’s ear. “Don’t you love that quaint expression, ‘start arriving,’ as though babies take the Greyhound to the Columbia depot, call for the hired van, and show up with a fully packed diaper bag?”

  Nora snickered. “It does paint a different picture than a mother in hours of painful labor.” She pulled another cracker from Violet’s pack. “I’m glad Paradise isn’t as stodgy as Harmony. There was little to do, especially during the winter, with few social events other than singings. And the church singings were for everybody, not just young single people. And there was no rumschpringe.”

  Violet’s hand, holding the last cracker, halted midway to her mouth. “You’re pulling my pinned-together leg, right? No rumschpringe?”

  “I assure you, I don’t joke about the district I used to live in. The Amish there are very conservative and tolerate no running-around time.”

  “How on earth do folks court, marry, and then add to the rapidly growing Amish population? Or are you saying most Harmonians live and die lonesome, celibate lives?”

  Nora smiled at that. “People still manage to meet and fall in love, in spite of the incredible obstacles placed in their path.” She gazed out the opposite window as memories of tall, handsome Lewis Miller flitted through her mind. She could easily have fallen in love with him if not for the monotony of central Maine…and if the irresistible, black-eyed, wild-as-an-eagle Elam Detweiler hadn’t changed everything for her. She shook off thoughts of both men and turned back to her companion. “Do you know Emily Gingerich—Sally Detweiler’s sister? I will be staying with her, at least for a while, but we have never met.”

  “Of course I know her. Paradise may be larger than Harmony, but we have plenty of social occasions to meet one another. Besides, Emily owns Grain of Life Bakery.” Violet lowered her voice. “That is the best bakery in town, but don’t tell my mamm I said that. One of her schwestern owns another of the shops.”

  “So far you’ve shared with me one secret to keep from your father and another from your mother, Violet. We just met today. For all you know, I could be the world’s biggest blabbermouth.”

  “You don’t appear to be, and I’m a good judge of character.” Violet studied Nora with narrowed eyes, not the least bit nervous. “Tell me, are you up to the challenge, Nora, to not divulge the confidences you’ve heard today?”

  “You bet I am. It’s been a long time since anybody trusted me.” She sighed, remembering Elam and his secrets.

  Violet reached down to rub her leg, generating a metal-against-metal sound. “My leg br
aces itch like crazy sometimes.” She winced, as though her scratching had touched a sore spot. “And now that you’re privy to several of my dark secrets, you must confess one of yours.”

  Nora’s head snapped around. “What do you mean? What makes you think I have any?”

  “Come on. My legs may not be perfect, but there’s nothing wrong with my mind. You just moved halfway across the country to a town that’s a complete mystery and are staying with a couple you’ve never laid eyes on. I smell a secret as strong as cheese left out in the sun.” Her eyes practically bored holes through Nora. “Don’t you trust me?”

  Typical of her impetuous personality, it took Nora no time to decide. Something about Violet appealed to her enormously. She wanted nothing to nip their friendship in the bud.

  “I fell in love in Harmony with the wrong sort of man,” she whispered. “I don’t know if he plans to stay Amish, and he doesn’t even know I’m coming. But when he left Maine, he said he was heading to Paradise. So I pointed myself in the same direction.” Nora leaned back in her seat. “Now you know my secret.”

  Violet stared at her, wide-eyed. “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I will take your secret to my grave if need be.”

  And if her expression of awe could be trusted as an indicator, Nora had just made a new best friend.

  “I’m coming,” called Emily from the hallway. She pulled off her apron, tossed it on the counter, and swept open the kitchen door. Before her stood a small woman, not more than a girl, really, in a dusty cape and wrinkled brown dress. Her clothes looked too big for her, as though they were cut from a pattern meant for someone else. But she had the prettiest green eyes Emily had ever seen.

  “Mrs. Gingerich?” the girl asked, peering up through thick dark lashes. “I’m Nora King, Amy Detweiler’s sister. I’ve come from Maine.”

  “Thank goodness. For a moment I feared you were here to sell me a new set of pots and pans or some of those English cosmetics.” Emily grabbed her sleeve and pulled her into the kitchen.