Widow Rebecca Mast returns to her Amish community with her son and a dream—to own a quilt shop. Carpenter Daniel King is determined to help Rebecca and revive their childhood friendship. But as he bonds with her son, Rebecca’s afraid the secret she’s been keeping will be revealed. Can Daniel convince Rebecca he’s a man she can trust—and love?

A lifetime spent in rural Pennsylvania and her Pennsylvania Dutch heritage led MARTA PERRY to write about the Plain People who add so much richness to her home state. Marta has seen nearly sixty of her books published, with over six million books in print. She and her husband live in a centuries-old farmhouse in a central Pennsylvania valley. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, traveling, baking, or enjoying her six beautiful grandchildren.

Also By Marta Perry

Love Inspired

Brides of Lost Creek

Second Chance Amish Bride

The Wedding Quilt Bride

An Amish Family Christmas:

Heart of Christmas

Amish Christmas Blessings:

The Midwife’s Christmas Surprise

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Wedding Quilt Bride

Marta Perry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08421-5

THE WEDDING QUILT BRIDE

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“When I came back, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t lean on anyone else. I would stand on my own two feet.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Daniel said, “except that it’s not the Amish way. We help one another, as you know very well. You wouldn’t hesitate to help me if I needed it.”

Rebecca’s arguments were being cut from under her, and she struggled to find a solution they both could accept.

Daniel crossed the distance between them and stood smiling at her. “What’s wrong? Can’t find anything else to say?” His voice teased her gently.

“Suppose we do this. You let me help. Surely there are things I can do. And you don’t turn down other jobs to work for me.”

“Deal,” Daniel said. He grinned at her. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She’d tell him it was, but he wouldn’t understand. None of them would, because they didn’t know what her life had been like with James.

She had to walk away from the past. She had to accept Daniel’s help to do so. He held the door open to her new life, but she had to pass through, and she would.

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

—Proverbs 3:5–6

Dear Reader,

I’m so happy you decided to pick up the second book in my Brides of Lost Creek series. I had such a good time visiting the Lost Creek Amish again for a new love story, and I hope you enjoyed reading it.

The new book captures the story of Daniel King, an Amish carpenter, who is determined to remain a bachelor. Daniel has what he feels are good reasons to stay away from a romantic involvement, but all of his ideas are put to the test when his childhood playmate Rebecca Mast returns to the farm next door after the death of her husband. Sorrow and pain have changed Rebecca drastically from the happy girl he knew, and he feels compelled to help her despite the danger that his childhood friend might become his forever love.

The Amish community of Lost Creek is based on several Amish groups here in central Pennsylvania, most of them daughter settlements to the Lancaster County Amish. They’ve settled here for the less expensive farmland and the welcoming environment. Most of my story ideas begin with a place, and I love it when I can write about my own home area, the place I love most.

Please let me know if you enjoyed my story. You can reach me via my website, www.martaperry.com, on my Facebook page, www.Facebook.com/martaperrybooks, and via email at marta@martaperry.com. I’d be happy to reply and to send you a signed bookmark and my brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes.

All the best,

Marta Perry

This story is dedicated to my husband, Brian, with much love.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Introduction

Bible Verse

Dear Reader

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

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Two days after Rebecca Mast’s return to her childhood home in Lost Creek, she walked down the lane of the family farm toward her future. Her black widow’s dress contrasted starkly with the pale greens and bright yellows of a sunny spring day in the Pennsylvania countryside. Her son, six-year-old Elijah, trudged next to her, holding tight to her hand rather than skipping and hopping ahead down the lane like one of his cousins would.

It was early yet, she assured herself. Surely soon he’d forget the darkness of the past few years and be like any other Amish child his age. That was the heartfelt prayer of her heart for her son. As for her...well, the return to normal would take longer, if it ever happened.

But at least she was home, with her family around her, and today she would take the first step toward a new life for her son and herself. That alone was something to make her heart thankful.

The two-story frame house came into view ahead of them, standing at the point where the farm lane met the country road. When her mammi had written that old Mr. Evans had gone to live with his daughter and put the house up for sale, she’d known exactly what she wanted to do with the money she’d receive for selling the farm she and James had owned in Ohio.

The down payment James’s brother, John, had given her had been enough to cover the cost of the house. John’s continuing monthly payments would pay to remodel the old place into a secure, peaceful home for her and Elijah, and the quilt shop she’d have in the downstairs rooms would support them. That was the extent of her dreams for the future, and it was enough.

Daniel King stood, waiting by the back porch, leaning against one of the posts as if he could wait there all day for her, if need be. As they came closer, her stomach tightened as she searched the tall, broad figure for a glimpse of the neighbor boy who’d been her childhood playmate. She didn’t find him, nor did she see the gangly teenager who’d told her all about his crushes on the girls in their rumspringa group.

Daniel had grown into a strong, sturdy-looking man. It was her own uncertainty that made her long to find something in him that was familiar. The rich, glossy brown of his hair was a bit darker now, and the fact that he didn’t have the traditional Amish beard allowed her to see his stubborn jaw.

He’d always had that stubbornness. His golden-brown eyes had a glint of kindness that she felt sure reflected his kind heart, and his lips curled in a familiar grin. Her tension evaporated, and she smiled.

“Rebecca!” He came forward now to greet them, taking her hands in both of his for a momentary squeeze. “It’s wonderful gut to see you again.” His face sobered. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She nodded. She had a stock of reasonable comments to use when someone commented on her widowhood, but they didn’t seem appropriate for Daniel, who’d known her so well.

Daniel didn’t seem to notice. He’d focused on Lige, who was hiding behind her skirt, and he squatted down to eye level.

“You must be Elijah. I’ve heard about you from your grossmammi. She told me you just turned six. Is that right?”

Lige, clutching the fold of Rebecca’s skirt, gave the smallest of nods. Fortunately, Daniel didn’t seem to expect more.

“I’m Daniel,” he said. “I live over there.” He pointed across the field to the neighboring farm. “When your mammi and I were your age, we used to play together every day.”

Still no response. She tried to think of something to say to pull his attention from Lige, but Daniel was already rising, his smile intact. “Ach, it’s hard to get to know a lot of new folks at once, ain’t so?”

“Yah, it is,” she said, grateful for his understanding. “Sam tells me that your carpentry business is a wonderful success these days.” Sam, Rebecca’s older brother, had been best friends with Daniel’s older brother, Caleb. It had seemed natural for her and Daniel to pair up, as well.

“Ach, I wouldn’t say great, but it’s doing okay. It doesn’t give me much time to help Caleb with the dairy farm, but I do what I can. And he’s got Onkel Zeb and young Thomas Stoltz to work with him, too.”

“I’m sure he needs it, running such a big dairy operation.” Daad had told her how Caleb had increased his herd until it was one of the larger ones in the valley. “I’d be most happy if you have time to take on this job for me.”

She glanced at the house, trying to picture it the way it was in her dreams. With Daniel’s help, that dream could be a reality.

“Let’s go in and have a look at what you want done,” Daniel suggested. He held out a hand as she reached the three steps up to the back porch. “Mind the treads, now. There’s a loose board there I’ll fix right off.”

She nodded, turning to help Lige up to the porch. “It’s a little bit run-down now,” she told him. “But Daniel will help us turn it into a gut home for us.”

Lige darted a cautious sideways glance at Daniel, but he still didn’t speak. She tried to suppress a sigh. If she’d realized earlier the harm James’s behavior was doing to Elijah...but what choice did she have? James had been his father, and there was no getting away from that.

The back door opened into the kitchen, and they stepped inside.

“The cabinets need some repair,” Daniel said, swinging a door open and closed. “But they’re good solid wood—none of those thin layers they use sometimes now.”

Rebecca was busy picturing the kitchen with the cabinets freshly painted white and seedlings growing in pots on the wide, sunny windowsills. “The gas range is perfect,” she said. “But I’ll have to replace the electric refrigerator with a gas one.”

“I don’t know much about the electrics, but there’s a man I worked with on a few Englisch houses who does that kind of work. He could take out all the electrics for you.”

“Wonderful gut.” Surely the fact that things were falling into place meant that her plans were in accord with the gut Lord’s will. “Our table will fit in this space, won’t it, Lige?”

He nodded but hadn’t yet let go of her skirt.

“When do your things arrive?” Daniel pulled himself out from behind the refrigerator, a cobweb clinging to his straw hat.

“In a few days.” Smiling, she reached up to lift the cobweb away, inadvertently brushing his cheek. She withdrew her hand quickly, trying to ignore the way it tingled from the brief contact. “The family will store everything for us until we can move in here.”

The back of the house held the kitchen, a pantry and two smaller rooms. One would be their living room and the other a storeroom or workroom. Swinging the door open, Rebecca stepped into the room at the front of the house. Her breath caught.

The room extended across the whole front of the house, and sunshine poured in through the windows to lie across the wide-plank floors. The back wall would be perfect for shelves, and she could have a display area of quilts on one side and stocks of fabrics and notions on the other.

“You look happy,” Daniel said, his brown eyes warm. “Is this going to be your living room?”

“No.” She swung in a slow circle, taking it all in. “This will be what I’ve been dreaming of. This will be my quilt shop.”

She knew her happiness had to be shining in her face. And when she looked at Daniel, she saw her anticipation reflected in his eyes, crinkling as they shared her feeling. There, at last, was her old friend.

* * *

Daniel stood still for a moment, transfixed by the sheer joy on Rebecca’s face. He couldn’t help but share it. Obviously, this quilt shop was important to her, but why? So far as he knew, she hadn’t had a shop in the past.

He didn’t doubt that she was a wonderful quilter. Rebecca’s sister-in-law, Leah, had shown off the baby quilts Rebecca had made and sent for each of her young ones. Rebecca’s mother had a gift for designing patterns, and she must have inherited it.

“Can you make this ready first?” She swung toward him, all eagerness. “I need to open the shop as soon as possible.”

Need? That was a funny way of putting it. He’d heard that Rebecca sold the farm she and her husband had owned in Ohio. He’d think that would have given her enough that she wouldn’t have to rush into business for herself.

Still, it might be that she felt she had to have something to occupy her mind and heart. Her husband had died less than six months ago, and grieving was hard—he knew that as well as anyone.

“I have plenty of time for your job,” he said. And if he didn’t, he’d make time to accommodate her, especially if it kept her looking the way she did now.

He couldn’t deny that he’d been shocked when he first saw her, so thin and pale, with an almost-haunted look darkening the blue of her eyes. Rebecca had always been as bright as a ray of sunshine with her golden hair, rosy cheeks and the sparkle in her clear blue eyes. He nearly hadn’t recognized his friend, and that had set a distance between them.

Already she was withdrawing into herself again, her face becoming strained. But at least now he’d seen the old Rebecca, if just for a moment.

“So, you’ll tell me what you want done in here, and I’ll do the measurements and work out a plan.” He glanced toward the front door that led directly into the room. “We’d best check out the front entrance as well, if your customers are going to come in that way.”

Rebecca nodded, looking around the room as if seeing it looking very different. “I’ll want tables to hold bolts of fabric on this side,” she said, gesturing. “And then some open space where I can have a bed to show how a quilt will look and a counter near the door for checking out.”

Daniel made notes on his pad that no one would ever understand but him. “What about the walls?”

“They’ll need to have several different-sized racks to hold quilts, crib quilts, wall hangings and table runners.” She unfolded a sheet of paper, and they both bent their heads over it. “See, here are the kinds and sizes I need and where I thought maybe they could go.”

She’d printed it all up for him with sketches. “So neat,” he said. “Just like your schoolwork used to be.” He glanced at the boy, standing quiet and solemn next to his mammi. Did he ever laugh? “When we were in school together, your mammi had the best printing of anyone in the school. Whenever a sign had to be made, we’d get her to do it.”

Lige nodded, as if he didn’t doubt it, but still he didn’t smile or speak. Well, he’d get a smile out of the boy even if he had to stand on his head to do it.

He turned to Rebecca. It wouldn’t be bad to get another smile from her, as well. “Do you want to make decisions about the rest of the house today, or just focus on the shop for now?”

“Just the shop today,” she said quickly. “It’s more important than getting moved in right away.”

“If I know your mamm and daad, they’d be happy to have you stay with them in the grossdaadi house for always, ain’t so?”

Her lips curved a bit, but her blue eyes were still dark and serious. “That’s what they say, but we shouldn’t impose on them.”

Now all he could do was stare at her shuttered face. “Impose? Since when is it imposing to have you home again? Your folks have been so happy since they knew you were coming that they’re acting ten years younger. Sam and Leah and their young ones have been marking the days off on a calendar because they’re so eager. You’re not imposing.”

Rebecca stiffened, seeming to put some distance between them. “It’s better that I stand on my own feet. I’m not a girl any longer.” She looked as if she might want to add that it wasn’t his business.

No, it wasn’t. And she certain sure wasn’t the girl he remembered. His Rebecca, so open and trusting, would never have doubted her welcome. Grief alone didn’t seem enough to account for the changes in her. Had there been some other problem, something he didn’t know about in her time away or in her marriage?

He’d best mind his tongue and keep his thoughts on business, he told himself. He was the last person to know anything about marriage, and that was the way he wanted it. Or if not wanted, he corrected himself honestly, at least the way it had to be.

“I guess we should get busy measuring for all these things, so I’ll know what I’m buying when I go to the mill.” Pulling out his steel measure, he focused on the boy. “Mind helping me by holding one end of this, Lige?”

The boy hesitated for a moment, studying him as if looking at the question from all angles. Then he nodded, taking a few steps toward Daniel, who couldn’t help feeling a little spurt of triumph.

Carefully, not wanting to spook Lige, Daniel held out an end of the tape. “If you’ll hold this end right here on the corner, I’ll measure the whole wall. Then we can see how many racks we’ll be able to put up.”

Rebecca, who had taken a step forward as if to interfere, stopped and nodded at her son. “That’s right. You can help with getting our shop ready.”

Daniel measured, checking a second time before writing the figures down in his notebook. His gaze slid toward Lige again. It wondered him how the boy came to be so quiet and solemn. He certain sure wasn’t like his mammi had been when she was young. Could be he was still having trouble adjusting to his daadi’s dying, he supposed.

“Okay, gut. Now, you let the end go, and I’ll show you how it pops back to me. Ready?” Lige put his end on the floor and took a cautious step away, as if not sure what to expect.

“Now.” Daniel pushed the button, and the steel measure came zooming back, rerolling itself. “There. Did you ever use one of these before?”

Lige shook his head and hurried over to Daniel without hesitation. “Can we do it some more?”

“Sure thing. Let’s measure how wide the window is, because we wouldn’t want a quilt to cover it, would we?”

Without being told, Lige pulled the end out so that they could measure the width of the windowsill. When they’d finished, Daniel held out the tape measure to the boy. “Do you want to roll it up this time?”

Lige came eagerly, his shyness of Daniel forgotten. Daniel put his large hand over the boy’s small one, showing him the button. “Now, push.”

Lige did, and the tape measure performed its vanishing trick again. He looked up at Daniel, and the sight Daniel had been looking for appeared. It was tentative and a little stiff, but it was a genuine smile.

“Did you see, Mammi? I did it all by myself.”

“Yah, I saw.” Some of the color had come back into Rebecca’s pale cheeks, and she met Daniel’s gaze with one that was so filled with fierce maternal love that it startled him. “Denke, Daniel.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Somehow that simple incident seemed to dissolve much of the strangeness between them. They worked their way around the room, measuring and talking about what she wanted in the shop, until finally Daniel squatted down and put his notebook on his knee to figure out an estimate.

He stole a covert glance at Rebecca, who was saying something to her son. He hadn’t missed the slight apprehension in her face when he’d talked about the supplies they’d need. Was the money a problem?

It shouldn’t be, not if she’d just sold a thriving farm, but how did he know? He’d do the work gladly for nothing in the name of their old friendship, but he knew Rebecca wouldn’t hear of it. That steely independence of hers was new, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Finally he had an approximate materials cost worked out. He stood, catching that trace of apprehension in her eyes.

“How much will it cost to do what I want?”

In answer, he held out the notebook page. “That’s an approximate guess as to the cost of the materials. Unless the mill has upped its prices for a board foot,” he said. “Just joking,” he added quickly, not sure she was in the mood for humor.

“But that’s not including your work,” she said. “I should give you the whole amount...”

“Not up front,” he said, interrupting her. “You pay for the initial materials, so I can start. Then you can pay my labor when the job is finished.” Seeing the objection rising in her face, he added firmly, “That’s how it’s always done, Rebecca. If that outlay for materials is more than you can manage at one time, we can always break the job into smaller units.”

“No, no, that’s okay.” She opened a small bag and began counting out the money into his hand.

He didn’t miss the fact that there was very little left in the bag when she was done, and it troubled him. But when she looked up at him with the smile he remembered, it chased other thoughts away.

“I’ll go to the mill first thing tomorrow, and then I can start work in the afternoon.” He glanced at Lige. “You’ll bring my helper back, ain’t so?”

The boy’s smile rewarded him. “Can I, Mammi?” He tugged on her apron.

“Yah, as long as you listen to Daniel and do just as he says.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Sehr gut,” Daniel said. “Tomorrow then.” Shouldering his tool bag, he headed out.

Rebecca and her son followed him to the porch and stood there, watching him go. As he cut across the field toward home, he took a quick look back and again was assailed by that sense of something he didn’t understand. The two of them looked oddly lonely, standing there on the porch of that decrepit house.

Rebecca was home, but he sensed she had brought some troubles with her. As for him...well, he didn’t have answers. He just had a lot of questions.

* * *

Supper in Leah’s kitchen was a lively time, with the long table surrounded by cheerful faces—Leah, Sam, their children, her mamm and daad, and now her and Lige. Lige, sitting next to her, had been engrossed in looking from one to another during the meal, his small face gradually relaxing as he realized all the chatter was normal and accepted.

It had been normal when she was growing up, as well. It never would have occurred to any of her siblings that their contributions wouldn’t be welcome. But life with James, especially after his accident, had been another story entirely.

At least Lige was beginning to lose the tension that told her so clearly he was waiting for an explosion. He actually laughed at something one of his cousins said, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

With the last crumb of apple crisp consumed and the silent prayer at the end of the meal said, the boys began getting up from the table to do their chores. Sam, who’d been saying something to Daad, glanced up as they headed out the door.

“Joshua.” He raised his voice to call his eldest back.

And Lige cringed, wincing back in his chair, his face strained and fearful.

No one moved. Rebecca could hear their indrawn breaths, could see the comprehension dawning on the faces of the adults. Rebecca bent over Lige, speaking softly.

“Hush now. It’s all right. Onkel Sam just wants to tell Joshua something.”

Leah seemed to get a grip on herself first. “Yah, he wants to tell Joshua to take Lige out with him and let him help. Ain’t so, Sam?”

“For sure,” Sam said.

Kindhearted Joshua came and squatted down by Lige’s seat. “Want to komm help me feed the buggy horses? You can measure the oats, yah?” He spoke softly, holding out his hand to Lige.

Lige looked up at her, as if asking for guidance.

“You’ll like that,” she said, flashing a glance of thanks to her nephew. “Go along with Joshua and the other boys now.”

Lige slid off his chair, probably glad to get out of the kitchen. He took Joshua’s hand, and they went off together.

At a look from Leah, Sam and Daad went out, too.

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