The Love Letters (39 page)

Her heart swelled with love for this, her truly adoring beau.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “Will you let me love you all the days of your life?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she couldn't speak. He opened his free arm to her, and she nestled against him. “I will,” Marlena said at last, thankful to God for bringing Luke into her life.

He smiled handsomely and, reaching for her hand, motioned toward the house. “I want my parents and Sarah to hear this first,” he said with a wink. “All right with you?”

She agreed. “Then I'd like Mammi Janice to be next.”

They were united in this plan, and when Angela Rose clapped her little hands, completely unaware—surely—of what had just taken place, Luke chuckled, a spring in his step when he took his “two girls” into the house.

Luke held the screen door for her and called for his mother to come right quick. “I've got the best news!”

Never was there a sweeter day!
Marlena thought as she stepped inside.

I
t was soft-spoken Jake Bitner who first told pretty Angela Rose about the bow-tie man he'd met at the old mill a decade ago. Luke and I had just celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary and were hosting a Thanksgiving dinner for our families, including dear Mammi, who'd ridden over for the day in Bitners' family carriage. Their unmarried son, Jake, now twenty-four, drove the horse-drawn sleigh with his three single sisters all bundled up, including nine-year-old Esther, born a year after Abigail came for her dear Boston. Dorcas and her husband and baby boy joined us at our home, too.

Angela Rose and Esther Bitner, close in age, sat next to each other on the long wooden bench and folded their hands and bowed their heads as Luke pronounced the blessing over the feast. My dear husband thanked God for the struggles that make us strong and for the blessings of an abundant harvest.

After the amens echoed, Luke reached under the table and squeezed my hand. I must've blushed because Mammi Janice caught my eye and beamed over at me.

The next day, while our baby son napped snug in his cradle,
I sat down with Angela Rose and her younger sister—Luke's and my daughter, six-year-old Emma—to show them how to make quilt stitches on a practice sampler. Little Emma screwed up her face, having a hard time, but Angela managed to put three on her needle right away. She was so excited as she tried to get stitches that I decided to tell her the background behind her favorite quilt . . . the one I'd sewn from her Mamma's dresses. Emma wandered off to play with her homemade faceless dolls as I shared.

“I want to tell you a true story, honey-girl. I have a feelin' you'll tell it to your own children on chilly autumn nights as you sit around the fire, and they'll retell it to their youngsters one day.”

Angela's eyes were wide with wonder beneath her white
Kapp
. “My mother, Luella, was fancy like my first father, ain't so?” she said.

“For a time,
jah
.” I explained that Luella had grown up Amish, then left to become an
Englischer
and married Gordon before he'd gone off to war. “But she never forgot what it meant to be Plain, and she wrote about it in one of her love letters to your father . . . before she died.”

“Can I read the letter someday, Mamma?”

“Let's ask your first father when he and his wife and little boys come for their Christmas visit, all right?”

That seemed to satisfy Angela, and I leaned over to kiss her.

“I'd like to make a crazy quilt, too,” Angela said, returning to her stitching again. “Will ya teach me, Mamma?”

“I surely will. And ya know what I think? My sister Luella would've been very happy if she knew of your interest in quilting.”

Angela Rose smiled up at me. “So I ain't too young, then?”

“Well, my Dawdi Tim used to say,
‘Listen for God's
voice when you're young, and quickly answer His calling.'
”

My darling girl nodded her head. “And do it with all your might, ain't?”

That night I gathered my daughters to me as we sang “Jesus Loves Me” in
Deitsch
. Then I tucked them into bed with a prayer.

I headed across the hallway to Luke but thought I heard the breathy strains of a harmonica and stopped to listen.
Where's it coming from?

Lured by the music and the rising moon, I walked to the end of the hall and looked down over the fenced pastureland. The mules' coats were thickening up for winter, and it wouldn't be long before more snow and sleet clattered against the windows.

The solitary melody seemed to drift back to me over the years. And as I sat down to nurse my young son, rocking him to sleep and stroking his fuzzy little head, I hummed along with the hushed refrain.

I was brimming with ongoing thankfulness for Luella's precious love-gift, and for all that God had brought my way—dearest Luke and our darling second daughter . . . our newborn son, too. My gratitude blended with the unexplained music . . . and a heritage of enduring wisdom.

The light of the moon accentuated the white church spire in the near distance, and seeing it, I smiled and remembered. “Wise folk never reject the possibility of a miracle,” I whispered.

T
he rural setting of Brownstown, Pennsylvania, is a reminder of some of my happiest childhood memories. It is the blissful location of my uncle Amos and aunt Anna Jane Buchwalter's home, where they raised their four children. Their large white clapboard house was situated within yards of the picturesque stone Brownstown Mill, built in 1856 as a lumber mill, though it later served as a grist mill and woolen mill, owned by DeSager, before being renovated into offices and boutiques. Presently it is a private residence. And the topping on my research came when Sarah Hartman Shanely, a fan of my books, contacted me to say that she had grown up in the mill after her parents purchased it in 1994. What a small world! I'm so pleased at Sarah's eagerness to answer questions about her beautiful childhood home.

My sister and I and our cousins looked forward to exploring this area, especially near Conestoga Creek and the one-lane bridge not far from the historic mill, where we tossed pebbles into the water below like Small Jay Bitner in this book. We also ice-skated on that creek during the winter, and fished
and played in it—often up to our waists—in the good old summertime.

Buchwalter family gatherings were held in the three-story house surrounded by Amish and Mennonite farmland, the familiar
clip-clop
of driving horses hitched to buggies regularly coming from the road in the predawn hours on visiting and Preaching Sundays.

As occasionally happens, the splendid setting presented itself to me first, eventually giving way to three cherished story threads for this novel, as well as a cast of endearing characters. Marlena Wenger, however, had been in my heart for some years, waiting her turn as one of my gracious leading ladies. I sometimes think Marlena is, perhaps, one of the most tenderhearted protagonists I've written to date. Perhaps you agree.

As is always true, there are a host of remarkable people who helped to bring this book to its completion. They are the following: David Horton, my fine acquisitions editor and wonderful friend, who was keenly interested in this storyline from the outset; Rochelle Glöege, my brilliant line editor, who partnered with me in delving into medical treatment for mental disorders in the '60s (which was woefully lacking!); Aleta Hirschberg, Nan Best, Sarah Shanely, Dale and Naomi Hartman, and David Buchwalter, for period research; Dale Birch and Dave Lewis, for relevant aspects of the Vietnam war; and Erik Wesner, for helpful input into Amish settlements near Mifflinburg, Pennsylvania. (Don't miss Erik's new book,
50 Fascinating Amish Facts.
)

I'm grateful to my husband, David Lewis, for his brainstorming help (so fun!), double-checking Plain facts and tradition, and reading the hundreds of pages of rough drafts; our granddaughter Ariel for suggesting the name Anderson
for Gordon's father; Jim and Ann Parrish, Donna De For, Noelle Buss, and many other prayer partners for consistent and faithful devotion to prayer; Steve Oates for driving me all over Mifflinburg during the fall 2014 book tour; and Amy Green, my adventuresome publicist, who reminded me on a sunny September afternoon how daring it is to wade across Conestoga Creek.

Many thanks also to Hank and Ruth Hershberger for answering Amish-related questions and offering correct
Deitsch
spellings; Barbara Birch for expert proofreading and always warm encouragement; and to my numerous cheerful and cooperative Amish and Mennonite friends and relatives, who read my drafts but choose to remain behind the scenes.

Finally, abundant thanks to you, my devoted and caring readers. You are so very dear to my heart, and I am sincerely appreciative of your interest in my work.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Beverly Lewis
, born in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, is the
New York Times
bestselling author of more than ninety books. Her stories have been published in eleven languages worldwide. A keen interest in her mother's Plain heritage has inspired Beverly to write many Amish-related novels, beginning with
The Shunning
, which has sold more than one million copies and is an Original Hallmark Channel movie. In 2007
The Brethren
was honored with a Christy Award.

Beverly has been interviewed by both national and international media, including
Time
magazine, the Associated Press, and the BBC. She lives with her husband, David, in Colorado.

Visit her website at
www.beverlylewis.com
or
www.facebook.com/officialbeverlylewis
for more information.

The Love Letters

The River

H
OME
TO
H
ICKORY
H
OLLOW

The Fiddler

The Bridesmaid

The Guardian

The Secret Keeper

The Last Bride

T
HE
R
OSE
T
RILOGY

The Thorn • The Judgment • The Mercy

A
BRAM
'
S
D
AUGHTERS

The Covenant • The Betrayal • The Sacrifice

The Prodigal • The Revelation

T
HE
H
ERITAGE
OF
L
ANCASTER
C
OUNTY

The Shunning • The Confession • The Reckoning

A
NNIE
'
S
P
EOPLE

The Preacher's Daughter • The Englisher • The Brethren

T
HE
C
OURTSHIP
OF
N
ELLIE
F
ISHER

The Parting • The Forbidden • The Longing

S
EASONS
OF
G
RACE

The Secret • The Missing • The Telling

The Postcard • The Crossroad

The Redemption of Sarah Cain

Sanctuary
(
with
David
Lewis
)
 • Child of Mine
(
with
David
Lewis
)

The Sunroom • October Song

Amish Prayers

The Beverly Lewis Amish Heritage Cookbook

www.beverlylewis.com

Resources:
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