Mending Hearts Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF JANICE KAY JOHNSON

  “Janice Kay Johnson wins our hearts with appealing characters in this poignant tale of sacrifice, healing, and family relationships.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Well-written characters living through complex situations that are neither glossed over nor magically solved. . . . A lovely romance with strong, likable characters.”

  —Her Hands, My Hands

  “Johnson writes in a way that conveys real life very well and, at the same time, makes romance seem possible for normal people in everyday places.”

  —All About Romance

  “Believable characters that demonstrate admirable growth and sensitivity. Remarkable in scope, beautifully realized with plot and characterizations. . . . Very highly recommended.”

  —Word Weaving

  Also by Janice Kay Johnson

  Turning Home

  A JOVE BOOK

  Published by Berkley

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  penguinrandomhouse.com

  Copyright © 2021 by Janice Kay Johnson

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  A JOVE BOOK, BERKLEY, and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Ebook ISBN: 9780593197998

  First Edition: March 2021

  Cover art by Steve Gardner

  Cover design by Kati Anderson

  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.

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  For the greatest blessings in my life, my daughters, Sarah and Katie

  Contents

  Cover

  Praise for the Novels of Janice Kay Johnson

  Also by Janice Kay Johnson

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Not needing even light pressure on the reins as a signal, the Bowman family’s mare, Polly, turned from the paved country road onto the dirt track leading up a slight rise to Bart Kauffman’s big white farmhouse, where today’s barn raising was taking place. Miriam craned her neck, seeing the long row of buggies and horses already here. She spotted two pickup trucks, too, probably belonging to Englisch neighbors who had come to work.

  Last week, a rare spring lightning storm had set a fire that devoured the Kauffmans’ old barn with horrifying speed. The Englisch among the volunteer firefighters had shaken their heads at the stubborn Amish refusal to use lightning rods because they believed their property as well as their lives rested in God’s hands.

  The blessing was that the horses had all been out to pasture. From what Miriam had heard, there wouldn’t have been time to get them out. The chicken coop had been a safe distance from the flames, too. Along with the barn, the family’s two buggies, a wagon, a cart, and much expensive farming equipment and tack for the horses had been lost. Fortunately, because of the season, the stored hay and bedding straw had already been depleted.

  Now, in the Amish way, members of the church district and other friends and neighbors were gathering to build a new barn. The brethren would also help replace what had been lost. Today, while the men worked, the women would do everything they could to help Bart and Ada’s family while also preparing a midday meal to feed the hungry workers.

  A work frolic such as this gave them a chance to gossip, laugh, and strengthen the bonds that bound them all together.

  Eli Bowman, Miriam’s daad, surrendered Polly and the buggy to a lanky boy, the oldest of Ethan and Ada’s seven children, who along with several other boys would be responsible for the horses. Her father gathered his tools and left Miriam and her mother to carry the food they’d brought to the farmhouse kitchen.

  “Oh, there’s Elam!” Mamm exclaimed. Miriam’s brother Elam was only a year older than she was. Last fall, he’d bought his own farm only a mile or two away from the Kauffmans’. They all missed him. Seeing him once a week or so wasn’t the same as all of them sitting down at the same table every morning and evening.

  Elam spotted them, too, from where he was helping lift a heavy beam. He grinned and Miriam waved.

  “I don’t see Luke,” Mamm fussed. Miriam couldn’t quite see why, since Mamm cared for Luke’s just-turned five-year-old daughter, Abby, Tuesday through Saturday every week while he and his new wife, Julia, worked at Bowman & Son’s Handcrafted Furniture. It wasn’t as if Mamm didn’t see her oldest son and his family almost daily.

  Friends whisked the dishes Miriam carried out of her hands, and she was soon chatting about the week, hugging the younger girls who were earnestly helping. She lost sight of her mother, engulfed by her own circle of friends and family.

  This was only May, which meant the day wasn’t hot by Missouri standards, but the men erecting the barn had big patches of sweat on their backs and under their arms anyway. She was soon back out on the lawn behind a table, pouring cups of lemonade that boys who were too young to help with the construction carried to the men. There had been a time when she would have automatically lifted her gaze to search for Levi among the men before being jolted by the reminder that he wasn’t here, and never would be.

  On a pang of muted grief, she couldn’t remember when she last did that. It had been years.

  A quick hug startled her. “You always beat us here,” her sister-in-law said with a smile. “I can’t imagine why that is.”

  Miriam laughed. “I’ll bet I get dressed a lot faster than Abby does.”

  Julia made a face. “You’d win that one. She still wants to wear leggings under her dresses. We let her sometimes, but Luke decided not today. Seeing tattered pink leggings beneath the hem of her dress offends some people.”

  The conservative, judgmental members of the church, she meant.

  “I think she’s adapting really well,” Miriam declared as she poured more lemonade into a row of paper cups. “Just like her mamm.”

  Julia chuckled. “I still struggle with those darn pins.” She looked ruefully down at her bodice, held closed by deftly placed straight
pins. “What’s wrong with buttons? Or Velcro?”

  Julia had converted to being Amish only eight months ago. Raised Englisch, too, Luke’s daughter Abby had initially dug in her heels and refused to wear a dress at all. As stubborn as she was, her favorite shirt, pink with a sparkly unicorn on the front, was in such tatters by the time she’d conceded that they could get rid of it, it couldn’t even be used as a rag.

  Miriam said, “I think the pins are supposed to remind us that we’ve chosen to take the difficult road.”

  Julia sighed. “I stabbed myself today.”

  The undertone of humor kept Miriam from taking Julia’s complaint seriously. Her conversion had been heartfelt, as was her love for Miriam’s big brother. Nearly everyone in their church district had welcomed Julia without question. Her warmth and generosity were so obviously genuine.

  Miriam’s older brother, tall and handsome, had already joined the men who appeared about ready to raise one wall of the new barn. Stragglers were still arriving. An older couple walking up the lane caught her eye: Isaac and Judith Miller. Both beamed, seemingly delighted to be here. Judith was a fine quilter and frequent customer at A Stitch in Time, the quilt shop in Tompkin’s Mill where Miriam worked.

  Levi’s tragic death had cost the Millers their son, too, who had been Levi’s partner in a logging business. After the accident, David had chosen to leave surroundings that were painful to him.

  So many years.

  A shout from several men working on the barn momentarily distracted her. Something crashed to the ground. When it became obvious no one was hurt, a few good-natured catcalls expressed relief.

  Miriam glanced back at Judith and Isaac to see another man accompanied them. His straw hat shadowed his face, but he was dressed like the others in broadfall trousers with suspenders that accentuated wide, strong shoulders. A visitor? They had relatives in Iowa, she knew, not so far away. But there was something about that long, controlled stride . . . Her brow creased in puzzlement.

  A hand closed over hers and took the pitcher from her. Miriam looked down to see she’d just poured lemonade in a river over the table.

  Heat in her cheeks, she exclaimed, “Oh, no! I let my mind wander. So careless!”

  The older woman beside her—Martha Beiler—chuckled. “Ach, it happens to all of us. No harm done.”

  Another woman was cheerfully mopping up the overflow with a terry-cloth rag. Miriam felt foolish. It took her a moment to recall what had pulled her attention from her appointed task.

  Oh—the man who’d accompanied the Millers. She had to turn her head now to spot them, because Judith was almost to the front porch steps carrying a large casserole dish, and the two men had broken off to join the workforce.

  Whoever the stranger was, he had to be the cause of the sudden lull. Hammers and saws momentarily went still. All the men were looking at the new arrival, and the greetings were more than polite. A couple of men clapped hands on his shoulder.

  He’s not a stranger.

  Understanding, Miriam stepped away from the table and let someone else take her place. That almost had to be David. Why else had Judith and Isaac radiated happiness? Their oldest son was home.

  Levi’s good friend and business partner was home.

  Aside from Levi’s mamm, a difficult woman, David was the one other person in the world who had loved Levi as much as Miriam had. Joy filled her as she watched the group of men, waiting for him to turn so she could see his face.

  This was an odd moment to realize that she really hadn’t known him well. Levi had been two years older than she was, and David was at least three years older yet. The Millers had been neighbors of Levi’s parents, though, and the two boys had grown up to be lifelong friends—almost brothers, they used to say—despite the age difference.

  Miriam was a little ashamed to realize how few words she’d ever exchanged with David. She’d been in love with Levi from the time she was twelve or thirteen, praying he wouldn’t marry, that he’d wait for her to grow up. Now, she wondered at how consumed she’d been by him, to the point even his close friend had been little more than background. She didn’t like to think now that David had noticed.

  Maybe it was because she stood completely still among children playing and women bustling to set up for the midday meal, but when the man did turn, his gaze went straight to her.

  This was David, for certain sure, but . . . he’d changed. Her heart squeezed, perhaps with pity. Even across this distance, she thought she saw pain in his eyes. Lines that hadn’t been there carved his face, leaving it grim—or was bleak a better word?

  As they stared at each other, she realized she couldn’t remember the color of his eyes. He had been that unimportant to her. Not brown, she thought. Gray? Or hazel? Levi had been blond, like her, while David Miller’s hair was a nut brown, wavy enough to be disheveled on the occasions she saw him hatless. He was taller than Levi, and broader, too.

  Even then, he’d been a man, not a boy.

  This realization took her aback. Had he made her uncomfortable?

  Maybe.

  Now he’d be . . . She had to think. David must be at least thirty, or even thirty-one. His clean-shaven jaw told her he still hadn’t married, while most Amish men took a wife by their early twenties. Even when the accident occurred, he’d been twenty-four or twenty-five. If he’d courted any girl, Miriam never noticed and Levi hadn’t commented. Perhaps both men had been eager to create a solid business first.

  “Miriam? Is something wrong?” It was Julia, who slipped an arm around her waist. “You look . . .”

  “Ferhoodled,” she admitted. “Just . . . remembering.” She laughed sadly. “I thought I was all grown up, when I wasn’t at all.”

  “When Levi was alive?”

  Julia knew her history.

  “Ja. That man—”

  “What man?” Julia sounded puzzled.

  He’d turned away, joining the others, most of whom wore the same blue shirt and dark trousers, the suspenders that formed the same Y on their backs, the same straw hats. She couldn’t pick him out, not the way she’d have sworn she could Levi, back then.

  “David Miller. He and Levi logged together,” she said, grateful to sound so steady. “After what happened, he went away. I suppose his parents heard from him, but I haven’t seen him since Levi’s funeral. He just arrived with his parents. You know Judith and Isaac.”

  “Will seeing him upset you?”

  “No.” She shook her head in emphasis. “No, I’m glad he’s back. I hope he means to stay. His parents missed him so much.”

  “Mammi!”

  Both women looked down at the tiny blond girl who must have run up and now clutched the skirt of Julia’s dress. Abby had fallen in love with Julia at first sight—just as Miriam’s brother, Luke, had.

  “I couldn’t see you,” Abby complained. “Where were you?”

  Abby had been brought to Luke less than a year ago, after her biological mother died. Traumatized, she had refused to speak for a long time.

  “In the kitchen,” Julia said, “and then standing right here talking to your aenti Miriam. Weren’t you having fun?”

  “Ja, but I couldn’t see Daadi, either.” Her fear of being abandoned hadn’t entirely left her.

  Julia crouched to her level and pointed. “That’s him, right there. Do you see?”

  She was able to recognize her husband instantly, even from the back. Envy stung, to Miriam’s dismay. She wanted only happiness for Luke, Julia, and Abby. Truly, God.

  Julia rose back to her feet more slowly than usual. One hand rested on Abby’s head, the other, momentarily, on her own belly. Miriam looked from that hand to her friend’s warm brown eyes.

  Julia smiled and nodded. “I was going to tell you today.”

  “I am so glad for you.” Tears in her eyes, Miriam enveloped her dearest
friend and sister-in-law in a hug. This time, she felt no envy, only delight. If she never married, she’d have plenty of nieces and nephews to love. She didn’t see her sister Rose’s family as often as she’d like, because Rose had married a man in a different church district. But Luke’s family would grow, and Elam was openly courting a young woman from their own church district, Anna Rose Esch. Anna’s father would have planted extra celery this year, for certain sure, since stalks of celery in jars replaced the bouquets of flowers that would be at Englisch weddings. Given Elam’s eagerness and determination, Miriam wouldn’t be astonished if the wedding happened sooner than November, the traditional month for Amish weddings.

  Without letting herself glance back to where the men already had three walls raised, she went to the kitchen to help wherever she was needed.

  * * *

  * * *

  So now he’d seen her. For a moment, when their eyes first met, David had felt as if one of the raw wood beams had slammed him in the chest. It had been all he could do not to stagger back.

  In one way, she hadn’t changed: Miriam Bowman was still beautiful. Petite, with a heart-shaped face and sparkling blue eyes. In another way—he’d seen a woman instead of the girl she’d been. Amish dress was not revealing, but he could tell she had more curves than she’d once possessed. Something in her stare challenged him, in a way she wouldn’t have then.

  Today, she’d seen him. Her gaze hadn’t glanced off him, as if he were one of the team of draft horses Levi and he had used for logging. He had bitterly resented that, fighting with himself to shut away emotions that a godly man shouldn’t feel. If he’d succeeded—

  David looked down at a half-driven peg, and faced a truth he could never forget. If he’d succeeded, Levi Schwartz might be alive today. He and Miriam would likely be long since married, with several children.

  It had been six years since Levi’s death. Miriam had probably married someone else and might well have children. David hadn’t asked about her, not even yesterday evening when his mother chattered about former friends and acquaintances. Why would he? Miriam had never been the slightest bit interested in him, and so far as he knew, nobody had ever guessed how David felt about her. Even if she did become interested, he didn’t deserve her. He hadn’t come home because of Miriam. He’d do best to avoid her.