An Amish Arrangement Read online

  The Farmer’s Instant Family

  Jeremiah Stoltzfus hopes the Amish community of Harmony Creek will provide a fresh start...until days before closing on his new farm, he finds a beautiful trespasser. Mercy Bamberger claims the property is hers, promised by her late grossdawdi. Jeremiah can’t turn out the single mom and her daughter, nor can he leave. His solution: temporarily sharing the farm until ownership is settled. Once a city kid adopted by a Mennonite family, Mercy yearns to make the farm a haven for unwanted children. But living beside the handsome Amish farmer has her yearning for everything that’s eluded her...laughter, love and a forever family.

  “I’m not going to relinquish my family’s farm to you or anyone else.”

  “But—”

  “We moved in a couple of days ago. We’re not giving it up.” Mercy crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s our home.”

  Jeremiah had to select his words with care. He didn’t know if he’d be allowed to close on the farm as scheduled. He’d never heard of a person dying before property was transferred.

  Until he spoke with his real estate agent and got her advice, he didn’t know what the outcome of this sticky situation would be. Mercy wasn’t going to back down. That much was clear. If their situations were reversed, he suspected he’d be as unwilling to compromise. He was unwilling to compromise.

  There wasn’t room to. Either the farm was going to be his...or it wasn’t.

  A pleasant warmth buzzed through him again as his gaze connected with hers. He looked away. Until he knew what was going to happen with the farm, he needed to keep his distance.

  Jo Ann Brown has always loved stories with happily-ever-after endings. A former military officer, she is thrilled to have the chance to write stories about people falling in love. She is also a photographer and travels with her husband of more than thirty years to places where she can snap pictures. They have three children and live in Florida. Drop her a note at joannbrownbooks.com.

  Books by Jo Ann Brown

  Love Inspired

  Amish Hearts

  Amish Homecoming

  An Amish Match

  His Amish Sweetheart

  An Amish Reunion

  A Ready-Made Amish Family

  An Amish Proposal

  An Amish Arrangement

  Love Inspired Historical

  Matchmaking Babies

  Promise of a Family

  Family in the Making

  Her Longed-For Family

  Sanctuary Bay

  The Dutiful Daughter

  A Hero for Christmas

  A Bride for the Baron

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  AN AMISH

  ARRANGEMENT

  Jo Ann Brown

  Then the Lord put forth His hand, and touched my mouth. And the Lord said unto me, “Behold, I have put My words in thy mouth.”

  —Jeremiah 1:9

  For Leon Barkley,

  one of my first friends.

  Together we learned softball from my dad

  and basketball from your brother.

  Thanks for your help with my real estate

  questions and making this story possible.

  A special thank-you to Tina, Melissa and Dina,

  who have shared my love for the

  Stoltzfus family right from the beginning

  and made each book better.

  Contents

  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

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from The Texan's Twins by Jolene Navarro

  Chapter One

  Harmony Creek Hollow, New York

  The day had started out as Jeremiah Stoltzfus had planned.

  It didn’t stay that way after a woman dropped into his arms.

  For most men, playing the hero for a beautiful woman would have been a dream come true. But most men didn’t discover that woman trespassing on a tumbledown farm in northern New York. A farm Jeremiah couldn’t wait to call his own.

  He’d been invited by the current owner to visit when he reached Harmony Creek. In a couple of days the farm would be his.

  At dawn Jeremiah had left his family’s home in Paradise Springs, Pennsylvania. He was joining others to build a new Amish settlement near the Vermont border. He’d made arrangements during the past few months, purchasing the farm based on a few photographs sent by his Realtor. After saying goodbye to his mamm, brothers and sisters along with their spouses and kinder and knowing it was unlikely he’d see them again for a year, he’d taken a train north to Albany. There, he was met by a van, which drove him the last fifty miles to Harmony Creek Hollow.

  The valley edging the creek was set outside the tiny town of Salem. Rolling hills covered with trees and meadows would support dairy farms for the Amish families moving into the area.

  The owner of the sixty-acre farm he was buying, Rudy Bamberger, had invited him to stop by before the closing in two days. Jeremiah suspected the old man wanted to size him up first.

  Rudy had already asked him a lot of questions through Kitty Vasic, Jeremiah’s Realtor. Personal questions that Kitty told Jeremiah he didn’t have to answer. However, Jeremiah had no problem with the questions, because the old man had been selling his family’s farm. Jeremiah had written a long letter, explaining his background and his plans for the farm and his future. His answers must have satisfied Rudy, because the old man accepted his offer on the farm the next day.

  When he’d arrived, Jeremiah had carried his two bags as he crossed the snowy yard past neglected barns. No tracks had been visible. Nothing had gone in or out of the big barn since the last snowstorm. Allowing himself a quick glance at the other outbuildings, which needed, as he’d known, a lot of repairs, he’d walked through the freshly fallen snow to the main house.

  The large rambling home had a porch running along the front and the side facing the barn. Through a stand of spruce trees, he could see another house, where a tenant family once would have lived. The few remaining shutters hung awkwardly at the windows, a sure sign the house was a fixer-upper, too.

  He looked forward to beginning—and finishing—the tasks ahead of him as he made the farm viable again. His skills as a woodworker would be useful while renovating the barns and the sap house near the sugar bush farther up the hill.

  Climbing onto the porch, he’d set down his bags before he knocked snow off his well-worn work boots. He’d gone directly to the side door. Rudy had told him to use that door when he arrived.

  “Don’t knock,” the most recent letter had instructed him. “My ears don’t work like they used to, and I don’t want you standing in the cold while you bang and bang. Come in and give a shout.”

  He’d thrown the door open. “Rudy, are you here?”

  A shriek had come from close to the ceiling. He’d looked up to see a ladder wobbling. A dark-haired woman stood at the very top, her
arms windmilling.

  He leaped into the small room as she fell. After years of being tossed shocks of corn and hay bales, he caught her easily. He jumped out of the way, holding her to him as the ladder crashed to the linoleum floor. His black wool hat tumbled off his head and rolled toward the wall.

  “Oh, my!” gasped the woman.

  She was, he noted because her face was close to his, very pretty. Her pleated kapp was flat unlike the heart-shaped ones his sisters wore. Beneath it, her hair was so black it gleamed with bluish fire in the fading sunlight coming through the door and tall windows. Her brown eyes were large with shock in her warmly tanned face, where a few freckles emphasized her high cheekbones. She wore a pale pink dress with white and green flowers scattered across it in a subtle pattern. No Amish woman from Paradise Springs would use such fabric. It must be allowed in the new settlement along Harmony Creek. What else would be different here?

  But first things first.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, not surprised she wasn’t the only one who sounded breathless. His heart had slammed against his chest when he saw her teetering. And from the moment he’d looked into her lustrous eyes, taking a deep breath had seemed impossible.

  “I’m fine. I had just a little farther to go. Just a little...” Her voice trailed away as the shuddering ladder, which had landed on its side, clattered to the floor.

  Jeremiah frowned. There was nothing on the wall to prevent her from falling. He saw the ruined wallpaper and chipped crown molding along with scraps of paper she’d already pulled off were piled on the floor. Why was she tearing off wallpaper in Rudy’s house?

  “Who are you?” he asked at the same time she did.

  “I’m Jeremiah Stoltzfus,” he answered. “You are...?”

  “Mercy Bamberger.” Her face shifted into a polite smile, and he guessed she’d collected her wits that had been scattered by fear. “Thanks for catching me.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Instead of answering, she said, “You can put me down.”

  Jeremiah was astonished his curiosity about why she was in what would be his house had let him forget—for a second—that he was still cradling her in his arms. He set her on her feet, but caught her by the elbow when she trembled like a slim branch in a thunderstorm.

  Hearing uneven thumps upstairs and hoping they heralded Rudy’s arrival, he steered her to the left. There, a staircase was half-hidden behind a partially closed door. Seating her on the bottom step, he picked up his hat as he asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I am.”

  He didn’t believe her, because her skin had a gray tint and her voice quivered. He wouldn’t push her, because he guessed she was embarrassed by the circumstances. But one question remained: What was Mercy Bamberger doing in his house?

  “Bamberger?” he asked aloud. “Like Rudy Bamberger?”

  “Yes. Do you know my grandfather?”

  Well, that explained who she was and why she was in the house. Glancing up the stairs, his eyes widened when he saw a shadow slip across the top. It was far too small for a grown man and appeared to have four legs.

  He watched, saying nothing as he realized the silhouette belonged to a kind. A little girl, who looked about seven years old, had braided hair as black as Mercy’s. She leaned on metal crutches with cuffs to go around her skinny arms. Her legs were encased in plastic and Velcro from the tops of her black sneakers to her knobby knees. Who was she?

  As if he’d asked the question aloud, the little girl cried, “Mommy!” Rushing at a pace that forced his heart into his throat again, because he feared she’d fall, the kind flung her arms around Mercy’s neck. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Mercy reassured her.

  The kind glanced at him with a scowl. “I heard the ladder fall and—”

  “I’m fine, Sunni.” She hugged the little girl. “Jeremiah kept me from getting hurt.”

  “Who?”

  “Jeremiah.” Mercy pushed herself to her feet and swung the little girl off the steps. She kept herself between the kind and him, showing she didn’t trust him though he’d saved her from a broken bone or worse. “He’s Jeremiah.” Without looking at him, she added, “Jeremiah, this is my daughter, Sunni.”

  Again he fought not to ask the questions battering at his lips. The kind was unquestionably Asian, and her eyes, like Mercy’s, glistened like dark brown mud in a sun-washed puddle. She also wore plain clothing with a small print.

  Comprehension struck him. Mercy and her daughter weren’t Amish. They dressed like the Mennonite women who lived near Paradise Springs. He searched his mind, but couldn’t recall if his Realtor had mentioned anything about Rudy living plain. He glanced up at the electric light hanging from the ceiling. Some plain folks used electricity.

  Too many questions needed answers.

  Right away.

  “Hi, Sunni,” he said, because he didn’t want to upset the little girl or her mamm more.

  She aimed another frown at him before turning her back on him. When she didn’t answer him, Mercy asked the kind why she’d been upstairs. He thought she was dismayed the little girl had gone on the stairs by herself until Mercy said, “Be extra careful. Don’t forget the floors aren’t safe.”

  “I stayed away from those, Mommy.” Sunni raised her left crutch and tapped the floor beside her. “I do that to check before I go in.” Without a pause, she asked, “Can I have a cookie?”

  “One,” Mercy said with a smile. “Put the bag clip on after you get your cookie.”

  “Okaaaay,” Sunni replied in the same tone Jeremiah had used as a kind when his own mamm said something he deemed obvious.

  He smiled, but again the little girl acted as if he were invisible before she drew her arms from the cuffs on the crutches. Leaning them against the wall, she hurried through a doorway to the right. He guessed it must lead to the kitchen.

  His grin vanished as he glanced around the room. Rudy called it his everything room. Hooks on the wall showed where coats, hats and bonnets could be hung. The bare floor was scraped from years of barn boots on it, and the tattered wallpaper was a grubby white. It might once have been a brighter color. The room was furnished with a rickety table and a battered sofa covered with a worn blanket. A desk had a book under one leg to keep it steady on the sloping floor. The interior of the house was in worse condition than the outside. The photographs sent by the Realtor had been misleading.

  Had he failed to examine them closely enough in his eagerness to buy the farm and get started on making his dream come true? No, he’d peered at each picture through a magnifying glass to discover every detail. He knew the kitchen cabinets were painted dull brown, and there was electricity in the house. He planned to remove the latter as soon as the papers were signed.

  Jeremiah picked up the ladder and raised it against the wall again. Checking it was solidly in place, he looked at Mercy. He was curious why she was peeling paper off the wall in what would be his house. He could understand if she wanted to take one of the pictures of the farm hanging on a fake brick wall behind the desk, because the farm was her grossdawdi’s. In the silence, the tick-tock of a wall clock in the kitchen was loud.

  Jeremiah appraised the room again. He intended to use it for the farm’s office, as he guessed Rudy had. It was one plan among the many he had. His brothers teased him about having to have every detail set in place before he acted, but trying to find knots in a piece of wood before he began working on it had kept him from wasting time when building a piece of furniture. Being as cautious in his other endeavors seemed wise.

  Though he knew, too well, the best of plans could fall apart. He’d thought his future was set with Emmarita Kramer, but she’d jumped the fence and married an Englisch guy she’d met at an auction Jeremiah had taken her to. She never broke the courtship off with Jeremiah, just left. He should forgive her and forget hi
s shock, but when he hadn’t been able to do either, he’d decided on a clean start in the new Harmony Creek settlement.

  Hearing a throat cleared and knowing Mercy was trying to get his attention, he turned. She was shorter than he’d realized. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. As she stuck several vagrant strands of black hair beneath her pleated kapp, she regarded him coolly. She was, he could tell from the set of her taut lips, as curious about him as her daughter had been.

  He had a lot of things he wanted to ask her, too, but he waited for her to speak first.

  She took one step, then another toward him, though she was at a disadvantage because she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. Then, seeing the determination in them, he wondered if she saw her height as a liability or a way to surprise those who underestimated her.

  “You never answered my question,” she said.

  “Which one?” He couldn’t remember what she’d asked him, and he refused to be put on the defensive in what would be his own home.

  “The important one. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see Rudy Bamberger.” He frowned. “You said he’s your grossdawdi.”

  She nodded.

  “Then I’m surprised he didn’t tell you I’d be coming here today.”

  “Why?”

  He didn’t think she was being cagey on purpose. Until now, she’d been straightforward. “He invited me to come and look around.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand why.”

  “Didn’t he tell you he’s selling me his farm?”

  * * *

  Mercy Bamberger was shocked speechless. Had she hit her head when she’d dropped into Jeremiah Stoltzfus’s strong arms after trying to grab another strip of wallpaper? She’d made a mess of this conversation from the get-go.

  With the ancient Adirondacks to the west and the gentle Green Mountains to the east, the farm had been a haven for her from the first time she’d come to visit the man she called Grandpa Rudy. It offered the very thing she’d lost and didn’t think she’d ever find again. Home. How desperate she’d been for a sanctuary! And how precious it seemed as the promise she’d held within her heart for the past decade was being fulfilled.