Authors: Mary Ellis
A Plain Man
Standalone Novels
Sarah's Christmas Miracle
An Amish Family Reunion
The New Beginnings Series
Living in Harmony
Love Comes to Paradise
A Little Bit of Charm
The Miller Family Series
A Widow's Hope
Never Far from Home
The Way to a Man's Heart
The Wayne County Series
Abigail's New Hope
A Marriage for Meghan
The Civil War Heroines Series
The Quaker and the Rebel
The Lady and the Officer
Angel of Mercy
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
All Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota
Cover photos © Chris Garborg; Bigstock / ewenger
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, is entirely coincidental.
A PLAIN MAN
Copyright © 2014 by Mary Ellis
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ellis, Mary
A plain man / Mary Ellis.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-7369-4980-4 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-4982-8 (eBook)
1. AmishâFiction. 2. BachelorsâFiction. I. Title.
PS3626.E36P53 2014
813'.6âdc23
2013031966
All rights reserved.
No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any otherâwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author's and publisher's rights is strictly prohibited.
Thanks to Carol Lee Shevlin for providing my home away from home, Simple Pleasures Bed and Breakfast in Winesburg, and for opening many doors in the Amish community. I will be forever grateful.
Thanks to Joanna, Kathryn, Rosanna, Esther, and members of the Old Order Amish districts of Wayne and Holmes Counties. A special thanks to Rosanna Coblentz for her delicious recipes.
Thanks to my agent, Mary Sue Seymour; my lovely proofreader, Joycelyn Sullivan; my publicist Jeane Wynn of Wynn-Wynn Media; my editor, Kim Moore, and the wonderful staff at Harvest House Publishers.
Thanks to my husband, Ken, construction superintendent extraordinaire, for building the house that shelters me and answering my endless questions about construction and labor disputes.
Thanks to my former pastor, Reverend Bob Petruccio, for leading me into a reedy, fish-infested, muddy-bottomed lake to baptize me. You changed my life forever.
Finally, thanks be to God. All things in this world are by His hand.
The boots of the warrior
and the uniforms bloodstained by war
will all be burned.
They will be fuel for the fire.
For a child is born to us,
a son is given to us.
The government will rest on his shoulders.
And he will be called:
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
His government and its peace
will never end.
He will rule with fairness and justice from
the throne of his ancestor David for all eternity.
I
SAIAH
9:5-7
COME, THOU FOUNT OF EVERY BLESSING
Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.
Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,
Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit,
Here Thy praises I'll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Here by Thy great help I've come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.
O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.
O that day when freed from sinning,
I shall see Thy lovely face;
Clothed then in blood washed linen
How I'll sing Thy sovereign grace;
Come, my Lord, no longer tarry,
Take my ransomed soul away;
Send thine angels now to carry
Me to realms of endless day.
CONTENTS
Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing
Josie's Secret Recipe Four-Bean Salad
Rosie's Favorite Breakfast Casserole
Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
F
REDERICKSBURG
, O
HIO
M
ARCH
C
aleb Beachy pulled the wagon up to the door and carried two buckets brimming with sap into the barn. Careful not to spill the sticky liquid, he struggled up the stepladder and dumped one and then the other into the sap evaporator.
“How many does that make, Cal?” Pushing up the brim of his hat, James Weaver peered up from his crouched position in front of the woodburner.
“These are seventy-seven and seventy-eight for today, one-forty-two including yesterday's for the weekend. But who's counting?” Caleb winked to let his friend know he was teasing. Then he returned to the wagon for the rest of the sapâhis eighth load of the day and by no means his last. Other friends and neighbors were collecting buckets from Weaver maple trees spread over two hundred acres of wooded hills. The trees had been planted by James's
grossdawdi
many years ago. The other workers would combine half-buckets together and set them in rows at the collection point on the trail. Caleb and James's
daed
each drove a team of Belgian draft horses to the Weaver sugarhouse, a veritable beehive of activity every January, February, and March.
Maple syrup, along with sugar candy in a variety of shapes, was the cash crop for the Weaver family. Plenty of people preferred real maple syrup on their pancakes and waffles instead of the less expensive cane
syrup. And judging by the joyous expression on his face, James would still enjoy producing syrup when he was a
grossdawdi
himself.
As for Caleb, he couldn't wait to take a hot shower and wash away any remaining amber goop. “How many trees did you tap this year?” he asked good-naturedly. As much as he disliked the work, he liked James. And friends within the district were few in number since he'd moved back from Cleveland.
“Over two thousand.” James straightened to his full height of barely five and a half feet. “That's a record for us.” Tugging off his gloves, he drained his water bottle in a few swallows. “If prices stay as high as last year's, we should have plenty to pay taxes and fatten the medical expense fund.” His bright pink cheeks and curly red hair gave him a boyish appearance. James couldn't wait to find a wife so he could grow a beard, insisting he would then look his age of twenty-five.
“Well, I plan to stay until your last tree runs dry.” Caleb offered his most authentic smile. “Without a job, working here for free was the best offer I got.” They both chuckled.
“Don't forget we give you lunch. Plus you'll take home a year's supply of syrup.” James followed Caleb out to the wagon instead of feeding more wood into the evaporator. “Say, are you going to the big pancake breakfast in Shreve in two weeks? They hold it on both Saturday and Sunday, so it won't interfere with preaching services.”
Caleb fastened the top button on his coat before the wind cut him in half. “I hadn't planned on it. My
mamm
fixes pancakes all the time. Why would I pay money for them? Besides, it'll be nothing but a bunch of
Englisch
tourists there.” He lifted two buckets from the wagon, spilling some on his leather boots.
“Nope, lots of Amish folk attend the annual event, especially if it's a nice day.” James stepped closer to whisper conspiratorially. “Plenty of Plain
women
will be there too.”
Caleb almost swallowed his tongue trying not to laugh. From his inflection, it sounded like James considered females as rare as gold or silver. “Gosh, I'm not sure I've seen one of
them
before.” He strode toward the barn, trying to keep his buckets evenly weighted.
James followed at his heels and took no offense from Caleb's teasing.
“Will you get serious? Here we areâalmost a quarter of a century old and still no wives. If we don't get moving, all the young and pretty ones will be snatched up.”
Caleb climbed the stepladder, thinking his friend might climb up behind him. “What will that leave usâbald-headed grannies in their seventies? At least they should be great cooks by that age.” He leaned back from the heat while emptying his sap into the evaporator.