Rachel's Garden Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  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

  GLOSSARY OF PENNSYLVANIA DUTCH WORDS AND PHRASES

  Teaser chapter

  PRAISE FOR Leah’s Choice

  “I loved Leah’s Choice by Marta Perry! More than just a sweet Amish love story, it is a complex mix of volatile relationships and hard choices. I couldn’t put it down. I highly recommend it!”

  —Colleen Coble, author of The Lightkeeper’s Daughter

  “Leah’s Choice is a wonderful, fresh addition to the growing collection of novels about the Amish life. Marta Perry has created characters that I came to care for deeply and a plot that kept me guessing at every turn.”

  —Deborah Raney, author of Above All Things and

  the Hanover Falls novels

  “Leah’s Choice captured me on the first page—complex characters, unexpected conflicts, and deep emotion. Make the right choice. Savor this special book.”

  —Lyn Cote, author of the Texas Star of Destiny series

  “What a joy it is to read Marta Perry’s novels! Leah’s Choice has everything a reader could want—strong, well-defined characters; beautiful, realistic settings; and a thought-provoking plot. Readers of Amish fiction will surely be waiting anxiously for her next book.”—Shelley Shepard Gray, author of the Sisters of the Heart series “Leah’s Choice by Marta Perry is a knowing and careful look into Amish culture and faith. A truly enjoyable reading experience.”

  —Angela Hunt, author of Let Darkness Come

  “I was moved and challenged by Leah’s honest questioning, her difficult choices, and most of all by the strength of her love and faith. Leah’s Choice is a lovely book. Simply lovely.”

  —Linda Goodnight, author of Finding Her Way Home

  “Leah’s Choice takes us into the heart of Amish country and the Pennsylvania Dutch, and shows us the struggles of the Amish community as the outside world continues to clash with the Plain ways. This is a story of grace and servitude as well as a story of difficult choices and heartbreaking realities. It touched my heart. I think the world of Amish fiction has found a new champion.”

  —Lenora Worth, author of The Perfect Gift

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England

  This is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2010 by Martha Johnson.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY© is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley trade paperback edition / March 2010

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Perry, Marta.

  Rachel’s garden / Marta Perry.—Berkley trade paperback ed.

  p. cm.—(Pleasant Valley; bk. 2)

  eISBN : 978-1-101-18571-1

  1. Amish—Fiction. 2. Lancaster County (Pa.)—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3616.E7933R33 2010

  813’.6—dc22

  2009047800

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  This story is dedicated to my husband, Brian,

  with all my heart. Without your unflagging support and

  belief in me, it would never have happened.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to express my gratitude to those whose expertise, patience, and generosity helped me in the writing of this book: to Erik Wesner, whose Amish America newsletters are enormously helpful in visualizing aspects of daily life; to Donald Kraybill and John Hostetler, whose books are the definitive works on Amish life; to Louise Stoltzfus, Lovina Eicher, and numerous others who’ve shared what it means to be Amish; to the unnamed Plain People whose insights have enriched my life; and most of all to my family, for giving me a rich heritage upon which to draw.

  CHAPTER ONE

  A flicker of movement from the lane beyond the kitchen window of the old farmhouse caught Rachel Brand’s eye as she leaned against the sink, washing up the bowl she’d used to make a batch of snickerdoodles. A buggy—ja, it must be Leah Glick, already bringing home Rachel’s two older kinder from the birthday party for their teacher.

  Quickly she set the bowl down and splashed cold water on her eyes. It wouldn’t do to let her young ones suspect that their mamm had been crying while she baked. Smoothing her hair back under her kapp and arranging a smile on her lips, she went to the back door.

  But the visitor was not Leah. It was a man, alone, driving the buggy.

  Shock shattered her curiosity when she recognized the strong face under the brim of the black Amish hat. Gideon Zook. Her fingers clenched, wrinkling the fabric of her dark apron. What did he want from her?

  She stood motionless for a moment, her left hand tight on the door frame. Then she grabbed the black wool shawl that hung by the door, threw it around her shoulders, and stepped outside.

  The cold air sent a shiver through her. It was mid-March already, but winter had not released its grip on Pleasant Valley, Pennsylvania. The snowdrops she had planted last fall quivered against the back step, their white cups a mute testimony that spring would come eventually. Everything else was as brown and barren as her heart felt these days.

  A fierce longing for spring swept through her as she crossed the still-hard ground. If she could be in the midst of growing things, planting and nurturing her beloved garden—ach, ther
e she might find the peace she longed for.

  Everything was too quiet on the farm now. Even the barn was empty, the dairy cows already moved to the far field, taken care of by her young brother-in-law William in the early morning hours.

  The Belgian draft horses Ezra had been so pleased to be able to buy were spending the winter at the farm of his oldest brother, Isaac. Only Dolly, six-year-old Joseph’s pet goat, bleated forlornly from her pen, protesting his absence.

  Gideon had tethered his horse to the hitching post. Removing something from his buggy, he began pacing across the lawn, as if he measured something.

  Then he saw her. He stopped, waiting. His hat was pushed back, and he lifted his face slightly, as if in appreciation of the watery sunshine. But Gideon’s broad shoulders were stiff under his black jacket, his eyes wary, and his mouth set above his beard.

  Reluctance slowed her steps. Perhaps Gideon felt that same reluctance. Aside from the formal words of condolence he’d spoken to her once he was well enough to be out again after the accident, she and Gideon had managed to avoid talking to each other for months. That was no easy thing in a tight-knit Amish community

  She forced a smile. “Gideon, wilkom. I didn’t expect to be seeing you today.”

  What are you doing here? That was what she really wanted to say.

  “Rachel.” He inclined his head slightly, studying her face as if trying to read her feelings.

  His own face gave little away—all strong planes and straight lines, like the wood he worked with in his carpentry business. Lines of tension radiated from his brown eyes, making him look older than the thirty-two she knew him to be. His work-hardened hands tightened on the objects he grasped—small wooden stakes, sharpened to points.

  He cleared his throat, as if not sure what to say to her now that they were face-to-face. “How are you? And the young ones?”

  “I’m well.” Except that her heart twisted with pain at the sight of him, at the reminder he brought of all she had lost. “The kinder also. Mary is napping, and Leah Glick took Joseph and Becky to a birthday luncheon the scholars are having for Mary Yoder.”

  “Gut, gut.”

  He moved a step closer to her, and she realized that his left leg was still stiff—a daily reminder for him, probably, of the accident.

  For an instant the scene she’d imagined so many times flashed yet again through her mind, stealing her breath away She seemed to see Ezra, high in the rafters of a barn, Gideon below him, the old timbers creaking, then breaking, Ezra falling as the barn collapsed like a house of cards ...

  She gasped a strangled breath, like a fish struggling on the bank of the pond. Revulsion wrung her stomach, and she slammed the door shut on her imagination.

  She could not let herself think about that, not now. It was not Gideon’s fault that she couldn’t see him without imagining the accident that had taken Ezra away from them. She had to talk to him sensibly, had to find out what had brought him here. And how she could get him to go away again.

  She clutched the shawl tighter around her. “Is there something I can do for you, Gideon?”

  “I am here to measure for the greenhouse.”

  She could only stare at him, her mind fumbling to process his words. The greenhouse—the greenhouse Ezra had promised her as a birthday present. That had to be what Gideon meant.

  “How do you know about the greenhouse?”

  The words came out unexpectedly harsh. Ezra was gone, and plans for the greenhouse had slipped away, too, swamped in the struggle just to get through the days.

  He blinked, apparently surprised. “You didn’t know? Ezra and I went together to buy the materials for your greenhouse. He asked me to build it for you. Now I’m here to start on the work.”

  The revulsion that swept through her was so strong she could barely prevent it from showing on her face.

  Perhaps he knew anyway. The fine lines around his eyes deepened. “Is there a problem with that?”

  “No—I mean, I didn’t realize that he had asked you. Ezra never said so.”

  “Perhaps he thought there was no need. I always helped him with carpentry projects.”

  True enough. It wasn’t that Ezra couldn’t build things with his own hands, but he was far more interested in the crops and the animals. Since his childhood friend Gideon was a carpenter, specializing in building the windmills that had begun to dot the valley, Ezra had depended on him.

  But that was before. Now ...

  Now the thought of having Gideon around for days while he built the greenhouse that was to have been a gift of love from her husband—

  No, she couldn’t handle that. She couldn’t. It was, no doubt about it, a failure on her part, one that she should be taking to the Lord in prayer.

  “Rachel?” She had been silent too long, and Gideon studied her face with concern. “Was ist letz? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Nothing at all. It’s just that I hadn’t thought about the greenhouse in months.” Her voice thickened—she couldn’t help that.

  Gideon heard it, of course. A spasm of something that might have been pain crossed his face.

  “It gave Ezra great pleasure to think about giving it to you.” His deep voice seemed choked.

  She blinked, focusing her gaze on the barn beyond him, willing herself to be calm. Think. What could she say that would not hurt Gideon, but would get him to go away?

  “I haven’t—I haven’t decided what to do about the greenhouse.” As she hadn’t decided so many things in the past few months, lost as she’d been in grief. “Will you give me a little time to think?”

  “Of course.”

  But his voice had cooled, as if he knew something of what she was feeling. His gaze was intent on her face, probing for the truth, and all she could think was that she wanted him to leave so that she didn’t have to talk about the bittersweet nature of Ezra’s last gift to her.

  The creak of an approaching buggy broke the awkward silence between them. She glanced toward the lane.

  “Here is Leah, back with the children.” She probably sounded too relieved as she turned back to him. “Perhaps we could talk about this some other day.”

  His expression still grave, Gideon nodded. “Ja, another time, then.” He turned away, but then glanced back over his shoulder. “I promised Ezra, ain’t so? I have to keep that promise.”

  He walked toward his waiting buggy, back stiff.

  Leah shook her head, cradling between her hands the mug of tea Rachel had given her. “I don’t understand. Why are you so ferhoodled at the idea of Gideon putting up the greenhouse for you? He’d do a good job, that’s certain sure.”

  “Ja, he would.” She couldn’t argue with that. Everyone knew how skilled a carpenter Gideon was. “I just ... it makes me feel ... makes me remember ...” Her voice trailed off.

  Leah reached across the scrubbed pine kitchen table to cover Rachel’s hand with her own. “It’s hard, I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Ach, I’m being foolish.” She shook her head, determined not to slide into burdening Leah with her sorrow and her worries. She’d done that enough lately. She freed her hand and stood. “I think I’d best take a look out at those children. I haven’t heard any noise from them in a while.”

  Three-year-old Mary, building a house with her favorite blocks in the corner of the kitchen, chose that moment to knock it over, chortling when the blocks crashed to the floor. Leah laughed, and Rachel shook her head.

  “Plenty of noise in here, though. Mary, pick those up, please. It’ll be time to help with supper soon.”

  “I set the table,” Mary announced, and began to pick up the blocks, putting them in her wagon.

  Rachel leaned against the sink to peer out the window over the plants that crowded the sill. Her daughter Becky and Leah’s stepdaughter, Elizabeth, seemed to be in a deep conversation, side by side on the wide swing that hung from the willow tree. Her first-grader Joseph and Leah’s Jonah, who was a year o
lder, were romping with Dolly, the nanny goat.

  “All seems well at the moment.” She sat down again, pushing the plate of snickerdoodles toward Leah.

  “That’s usually when they’re the most ready to get into mischief,” Leah said. She took another cookie, sighing a little. “I shouldn’t eat this, but it tastes like more. Since the morning sickness finally went away, I’ve been eating everything in sight.”

  Rachel studied Leah’s glowing face. “Being pregnant agrees with you, for sure. I’ve never seen you look better.”

  Leah shook her head, smiling a little, and patted her rounded belly. “I look like a hippo.”

  “I’ll bet Daniel doesn’t think so.”

  Leah’s cheeks grew pink, but instead of answering, she shoved the plate of cookies back toward Rachel. “You have another. You need all the energy you can get.”

  Leah undoubtedly thought she had grown too thin in the past months, just as her mamm did, but Leah was too kind to say so outright.

  It was strange, how much their situations had changed. A year ago Leah had been the devoted teacher at the Amish school, single and content to remain so, while Rachel had been completely occupied as a wife and mother, helping Ezra to run the farm, far too busy to think about anything else.

  Now they’d switched places, it seemed. Leah was happily married to Daniel Glick, instant mother to his three children, and glowing with the joy of her pregnancy.

  As for her—Ezra was gone, and she struggled to raise their children without him, caught in a web of indecision about the future.

  Leah must have guessed at her thoughts, because her green eyes darkened with concern as she leaned toward Rachel. “Are you all right? Are you getting enough help? Daniel would be glad to come over, or we could send Matthew to do chores.”

  “That’s gut of you, but we are managing to get everything done. There’s not so much this time of the year. William comes every day to deal with the milking, and he’s so willing to do anything he can. I think it helps him with his grief, knowing that he’s doing what Ezra would have wanted.”