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Overview
Faith faces an impossible situation: Should she do the right thing and bring heartache to nearly everyone she knows or deny her true self and always wonder . . . what if?
Sixteen-year-old Faith has worked full-time in her parents’ restaurant since she finished eighth grade. She loves her Amish community—and the romantic attentions of her longtime friend, Gideon.
When her sister seems to be getting too friendly with Englischers, and her parents are in a buggy accident, Faith wants to escape into her dream of joining the church and getting married.
But then a local newspaper runs a story about a child named Adriana who was kidnapped fifteen years earlier, and everything Faith has held true comes into question.
Suddenly the community Faith has known her whole life seems unreal. Can she even trust her own family? And how will she ever find home again if she no longer belongs in the world she knows best?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780718082451 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | HarperCollins Christian Publishing |
| Publication date: | 08/22/2023 |
| Series: | Amish Mercies Series , #1 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 351 |
| Sales rank: | 353,224 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
About the Author
Ruth Reid is a CBA and ECPA bestselling author of the Heaven on Earth, the Amish Wonders, and the Amish Mercies series. She’s a full-time pharmacist who lives in Florida with her husband and three children. When attending Ferris State University School of Pharmacy in Big Rapids, Michigan, she lived on the outskirts of an Amish community and had several occasions to visit the Amish farms. Her interest grew into love as she saw the beauty in living a simple life. Visit Ruth online at RuthReid.com; Facebook: Author-Ruth-Reid; Twitter: @AuthorRuthReid.
Read an Excerpt
Abiding Mercy
An Amish Mercies Novel
By Ruth Reid
Thomas Nelson
Copyright © 2017 Ruth ReidAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7180-8245-1
CHAPTER 1
Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
Fifteen years ago
Roslyn Colepepper shuttled her eighteen-month-old daughter, Adriana, through the produce section of the Best Choice Market, the cart wheels clacking. Her daughter didn't seem to mind the thumping, unbalanced ride, but the noise was a nuisance to Roslyn and, judging by the snippy glances from nearby patrons, to others as well. She contemplated exchanging carts at the front of the store, but if she walked near the exit, she would be tempted just to leave. Doing so would put a crimp in her schedule. Her dinner guests would arrive at six only to find her unprepared, which wouldn't bode well in her vie for the president position in the Bloomfield Hills Women's Republican Club.
Her husband had been right. Instead of stressing over meal preparations, she should have arranged a catering service. After all, her housekeeper had always handled the details. Roslyn would simply choose the menu and leave the rest to Georgette, who kept the butler's pantry stocked with organic fruit, vegetables, and every soy product imaginable. Georgette's culinary skills went beyond the typical housekeeper's talent, which made it impossible to replace her when she requested a leave of absence to care for her sick grandmother.
The last girl the temp agency sent fell short. The maid purchased substandard food and ended up pocketing the allotted funds. Of course the girl denied the charges, leaving Roslyn no choice but to dismiss her immediately. Now here she was pushing a malfunctioning shopping cart down the produce aisle when she should be at home preparing for her guests.
Roslyn stopped the buggy in front of the green beans and inspected them for freshness. As she placed a handful in a clear baggy, Adriana leaned sideways in the cart, stretching her little fingers toward the bin of Brussels sprouts.
"You're too young for those, darling. Mommy doesn't want you to choke." She pushed the cart forward.
Adriana's round face puckered. "Mine."
"No, sweetie."
Tears welled in the child's light-blue eyes, then Adriana let out a curdling cry that caused several nearby patrons to look their way.
"Hush now," Roslyn whispered. "You're causing a scene." She smiled at the red-haired man stocking heads of cabbage in the case. This was why she dreaded taking Adriana anywhere without her nanny. Unfortunately, Brittany had come down with something and Roslyn had no choice but to dismiss her for the day. After all, she couldn't have Adriana exposed to those germs. Roslyn's leniency with the staff had forced her to cancel her nail appointment and reschedule the masseuse. What good was having a live-in nanny if she always had the sniffles?
While she was thinking about it, Roslyn stopped the cart and riffled through her handbag. Locating her PalmPilot, she tapped a note. Call agency for a replacement nanny. Arrange interviews for a permanent housekeeper starting next week. Her thoughts ricocheted a dozen directions. It'd be easier to use her cell phone to call the house and leave a detailed message on the answering machine. She needed a personal assistant. And one of those new BlackBerrys she'd heard so much about. Something sticky touched her forearm. "No — no, Adriana. Put the berries down."
Adriana jammed a pudgy fistful of raspberries into her mouth, dribbling juice down her chin and staining her pink flowered dress. A half second later, her mouth dropped open and she began pawing berries off her tongue. Managing to rid her mouth of the undesired fruit, she lifted her arms. "Up."
Oh no. Not until you're cleaned up. Roslyn had spent a small fortune in New York on her silk blouse, and she wasn't about to let dirty hands stain it. The same held true for the Jaguar. Sticky fingers would destroy the '63 vintage cream leather interior. Granddaddy would turn in his grave if she didn't keep the car in its original state of glory.
Roslyn rummaged through her purse for the package of antiseptic wipes she'd used earlier to clean the shopping cart. Adriana squirmed, not liking her face wiped. Even after removing the raspberry residue, her daughter's mouth and lips remained red. The same bright-red shade she'd turned after eating strawberries earlier in the year — an allergic reaction that had terrified Roslyn. Mental note: no raspberries.
Roslyn wiped Adriana's neck and hands, then worked on the front of the dress, although it was already ruined. To ease the child's distress, she removed a box of animal crackers from the shelf, opened the package, and offered her one. Her daughter's crocodile tears evaporated quickly and, at least for the moment, she seemed content. Roslyn used the opportunity to finish shopping while still monitoring Adriana's face for any sign of hives. Within a short time, she conquered the store one aisle at a time, filling the cart with the items on her list plus a few extras.
Adriana's eyes closed and her head nodded only to startle herself awake. Roslyn glanced at her watch. Noon. No wonder everything looked good. She'd fed Adriana breakfast this morning but neglected to eat anything herself.
"I know you're tired, darling. We're going home now." Roslyn headed to the checkout.
The store wasn't that busy for a Thursday, but with only one register open, the time crawled standing in line. Another reason not to shop here when her schedule was already full. She tapped her fingers on the cart handle as the person ahead of her insisted the almond milk had wrung up at the wrong price. Roslyn called the house and dialed the code to retrieve the messages on the answering machine while the price was verified and the correction made. A twenty-cent difference cost them almost five minutes. As the clerk rang up Roslyn's items, she didn't bother watching the prices. A handful of pocket change wasn't worth arguing over. Her focus was divided between getting Adriana down for a nap, getting dinner started, and jotting down some key ideas for the upcoming fundraising gala.
The strong autumn breeze made her wish she hadn't been concerned with someone dinging her car door, which prompted her to park in the farthest open space from the store. Roslyn hurried across the parking lot, steadied the cart next to the car without it touching the paint, then opened the trunk. As she went to grab a grocery bag, she noticed Adriana holding her hand over her ear. The poor child was prone to ear infections and had been to the pediatrician only last week. High wind exposure would most likely result in another clinic visit and more antibiotics. Roslyn unfastened the safety strap around Adriana's waist and took her out of the cart. Her daughter's eyes closed the moment Roslyn fastened her into the car seat. Not wanting to run the risk of Adriana catching a cold, Roslyn slipped behind the wheel, started the engine, and adjusted the heat to its highest level. With her daughter situated, she went back outside to load the groceries.
Refrigerated and freezer items on the right side, nonperishables on the left. She leaned over the shopping cart to retrieve the case of bottled water and something struck the back of her head. Her mind not fully registering what had just happened, she took a step back, but another blow darkened her surroundings and she hit the pavement.
CHAPTER 2Posen, Michigan
Present day
Faith Pinkham peeked through the round window separating the kitchen from the eating area of The Amish Table and cringed at the large lunch crowd. Many of the tables hadn't been cleared since the breakfast surge and her older sister, Olivia, had her hands full taking new orders. Faith glanced over her shoulder at the pot of broccoli-and-cheese soup simmering on the stove. If she hurried, she could clean off a few tables before Olivia turned in the next order. Wiping her hands on her apron, she pushed the swinging double doors open with her hip.
Mrs. Meyer, one of their regular customers, shot up a quick wave from a back table. The retiree from downstate had bought a house on a nearby acre lot two years ago and had been busy planting gardens ever since. When it came to growing tea roses, Faith had never known anyone to have a green thumb like Mrs. Meyer. Tea roses are tender and prone to disease, but her bushes were lively and massive and fragrant.
Faith strode to the back of the dining area and stopped at the garden lady's table to say a quick hello before cleaning off the empty table next to Mrs. Meyer. "How are you today?"
"Doing just peachy, sweetie. Do they have you working in the kitchen?"
"Jah, I'm cooking." And cleaning tables.
"You poor thing. It must be blazing hot over the stove." She added a splash of cream to her coffee.
Faith smiled. The large fans in the kitchen helped exhaust the heat, but on days like today, she looked forward to soaking her feet in the creek after work. She stepped to the recently vacated table next to the window and began stacking dirty plates. Olivia had grabbed the tip off the table without taking any of the dishes away.
Mrs. Meyer stirred her coffee. "Are you doing anything special for the Fourth of July?"
"You mean other than work?" Faith chuckled. "Probably nett." The Amish only celebrated Thanksgiving, Christmas, Second Christmas, and Easter, but not many Englischers knew that.
Mrs. Meyer had an inquisitive soul. Since moving to northern Michigan, she'd shown more interest in the Amish lifestyle than most people who lived in Posen all their lives. Although Faith didn't mind answering the friendly woman's questions, she didn't volunteer anything more. If Mrs. Meyer knew about Faith starting baptism classes, she would have a slew of questions. Questions Faith wouldn't feel comfortable answering.
Faith repositioned the chairs. She would come back to wash the table, restock the condiments, and replace the paper place mats and napkin-wrapped utensils. She glanced at Mrs. Meyer sipping her coffee. "Can I get you anything? More coffee?"
"I have everything I need, sweetie."
"New order," Olivia announced, waving the carbon-copied slip on her way into the kitchen as if it were a flag.
Faith groaned under her breath. Several more tables needed to be cleaned off. Too bad it was her cousin Catherine's day off. Admittedly, Catherine was a better cook than all of them, except for Mamm. But then, her older cousin had worked over fifteen years at the restaurant, and over time Mamm had taught her everything. Olivia often voiced to Faith how it wasn't fair that Mamm gave their cousin the prime shifts, but Olivia was annoyed about everything lately — everything Amish, that is.
Faith positioned the dirty mugs and silverware on top of the plates. "I'll see you next week, Mrs. Meyer." She picked up the stack. "I want to hear about your roses when there's more time to talk."
"Don't work too hard in the kitchen," the woman said.
Faith wished that was an option, but people came from all over to eat an authentic Amish meal. As she headed to the kitchen, the tiny bell over the door jingled, announcing yet another customer. She liked staying busy, but at this rate, her feet would be too swollen to get her shoes off for wading through the creek. "Take a seat wherever you like," she called out, keeping her eye on the teetering mug atop her pile.
A man cleared his throat behind her. "I'm here to deliver the cherries your mamm ordered, nett eat."
Faith glanced up and smiled. "Hiya, Gideon." He'd been so busy lately that today was the first she'd seen of him since Sunday service.
He lifted the gallon-sized ice-cream pails now heaped with bright-red cherries. "I knocked on the kitchen door, but no one answered. Is your mamm here?"
"She's running errands." Faith moved cautiously toward the kitchen, focusing again on the wobbling mugs, then paused long enough at the double door to bob her head for Gideon to follow. Faith bumped the door with her hip and proceeded to the sink area where mounds of dirty dishes littered the counter. Their restaurant didn't have a fancy electric dishwasher. Her hands had remained chapped since she finished school after eighth grade and started working full-time almost four years ago with her mother, older sister, and cousin.
"Looks like you've been busy today," Gideon said, his gaze taking in the disarray.
Faith's face heated. When her mother or Catherine ran the kitchen, it never looked this unorganized. "It's just been Olivia and me all morning, so we haven't had time to catch up."
Olivia stood at the drink dispenser, filling glasses with ice. "Did you hear me say you have an order?"
"Jah." Faith maintained a cheerful tone. First she had to find a bare surface for these dishes. Her arms grew weaker under the weight and a mug toppled over, spilling cold coffee down her arm.
Gideon swiped a pillar of unwashed plates off the counter, clearing an empty space.
Olivia balanced a large tray of water glasses and steaming mugs on her shoulder. "I told them you'd put a rush on the order. They're in a hurry." She came around the corner and smiled when her gaze landed on Gideon. "I didn't see you kumm in, Gideon. How are you?"
"Fine."
Olivia backed into the door, butting it open with her hip. "Gut to hear." She sprang out the door, leaving it to flap in her wake.
A baffled expression overtook Gideon's face.
Faith imagined he was taken aback by Olivia's aloofness but was too polite to mention it. She strode to the counter and unclipped the order slip suspended on the wire above her. Six omelets. All different. And a half dozen sides of potato pancakes. How was she supposed to rush this? She had used the last of the diced vegetables on the last order and was running low on grated potatoes.
"Does everyone have to be in a hurry today?" Faith grumbled.
"I guess I'm nett — in a hurry." Gideon lifted the dirty dishes he'd picked up to make room a little higher.
"Ach, Gideon. Why didn't you say something?" She tossed the slip on the counter and dashed over to the dishwashing area. After carefully piling one stack on top of another, she cleared a spot. "You can leave them here."
He set down the plates, then immediately rolled up his sleeves.
Faith watched in disbelief. "What are you doing?"
"Well, I'm nett much of a cook." He worked on rolling up the other sleeve. "But I do know how to wash dishes."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know." He plugged the stainless-steel basin with a stopper, turned the hot-water tap on, then squirted in some dish soap.
"I don't want to keep you from your cherry deliveries."
"You're nett." He smiled.
Faith's insides fluttered. She'd never shared kitchen duty with a man. "Danki, but you can leave them soaking. Once mei mamm returns from the market, she'll relieve me from cooking, and I'll have time to catch up on the dishes."
Gideon motioned to the stove. "You should probably get started on that order." He dipped his hands into the soapy water, glanced sideways at her, and winked. "Aren't they in a hurry?"
"Ah, jah, that's right." Faith spun around and scurried over to the prep sink where she lathered her hands with soap. The oddity of a man with his sleeves rolled up past his elbows while not delivering a calf, but washing dishes, was a bit disturbing. In a good way.
She stole a glance over her shoulder at Gideon and sighed. Strong, kind, handsome, hardworking, he had all the traits of a good husband — for her sister, Olivia, if only she would show him a little interest. The man used every excuse possible to conjure up ways to be around her sister. Last month, when it came time for her family to host the Sunday meeting, Gideon volunteered to help her father muck the barn and set up the benches for the service. He even washed dishes today to see Olivia. Faith sighed. Her sister was blessed with creamy skin, blond silky hair, and enough smarts to teach school, yet she was dim-witted when it came to Gideon. Faith had known him her whole life, not that he ever paid much attention to her. She was Olivia's kid sister — lanky, grease-clogged pores from working over the fryer, and dark, coarse hair that tended to frizz in the summer — nothing more.
Faith turned off the tap water and dried her hands. Too much daydreaming had slowed her pace. She slid the refrigerator door open and removed the onions, mushrooms, green peppers, spinach, and tomatoes for one omelet; sausage, goat cheese, and jalapenos for another. Some naturally took longer to make because she had to fry the bacon and brown the ham. Not to mention one person wanted egg whites only, and that took more time.
A few feet away, Gideon hummed "Das Loblied" as he worked, an added treat to Faith's ears. Recognizing the tune as one of their Amish hymns, she hummed along while dicing vegetables. Once this order was filled, she would make him something special to eat for all his hard work. Since it was almost noon, maybe a cheeseburger. She stole another peek at him working, his head bobbing to the tune. She could get used to his help in the kitchen.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Abiding Mercy by Ruth Reid. Copyright © 2017 Ruth Reid. Excerpted by permission of Thomas Nelson.
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