Beside Still Waters (A Big Sky) Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  BESIDE STILL WATERS

  This book is a keeper! When I opened Beside Still Waters I was transported into the world of the Amish. Tricia's expressive storytelling and vivid descriptions drew me into the heartache and joy of the characters as if they were real people. So compelling.

  —Robin Jones Gunn, author of the Christy Miller series

  With Beside Still Waters, the talented Tricia Goyer adds a new flavor to the popular Amish genre. Journey with Marianna from the plains of Indiana to the mountains of Montana as they join a new group. But the journey is about much more than a physical move as Marianna learns an important truth about herself. A story that will stay with you long after the last page is read. Another winning read from one of my favorite authors.

  —Cara Putman, author of Stars in the Night

  Only a gifted writer like Tricia Goyer could present such a captivating story about a group of Amish forging a new community in Montana. Tricia writes in such a way that the reader can't wait to turn the page and learn more about main character Marianna's experience. Tricia's talent for connecting our heart to Marianna's plight also connects us to our need for one another. Beside Still Waters draws you in with its genuine characters, and it holds you there with its enduring bonds of love and family.

  —Suzanne Woods Fisher, best-selling author of the Lancaster County Series

  Beside Still Waters is heart wrenching and meticulously researched by Tricia Goyer. You feel as though you are truly experiencing the Amish lifestyle and the struggles the main character faces. It is a beautiful, thought-provoking work.

  —Alexa Schnee, author of Shakespeare's Lady

  The inspired pen of talented author Tricia Goyer has done it again—brought to life characters and events that tug at our hearts and transport us to faraway places and times.

  From the tragic accident that snags us at the book's opening in the otherwise peaceful Amish setting of Indiana to the wild big-sky country of Montana, we travel with Marianna as she searches for love and acceptance in much the same way we all do. And in the midst of it, we are reminded that sometimes we find what we didn't even realize we were searching for.

  —Kathi Macias, award-winning author of more than thirty books, including the popular Extreme Devotion series

  I've discovered a new favorite author of Amish fiction—Tricia Goyer! Beside Still Waters is a moving and gentle story that touched my heart and stirred my soul. I'm recommending Beside Still Waters to all my friends who enjoy Amish fiction.

  —Marlo Schalesky, author of Christy-award winning Beyond the Night and Shades of Morning

  Tricia Goyer brings her considerable writing talent to the Amish genre. Beside Still Waters is a sweet, tender tale that's sure to please readers. Amish fiction fans will be wanting more from Ms. Goyer!

  —Kathleen Fuller, author of A Summer Secret, A Hand to Hold, and The Secrets Beneath

  Copyright © 2011 by Tricia Goyer

  All Rights Reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-1-4336-6868-5

  Published by B&H Publishing Group

  Nashville, Tennessee

  Dewey Decimal Classification: F

  Subject Heading: AMISH—FICTION FAMILY LIFE—FICTION SPIRITUAL LIFE—FICTION

  Published in association with the Books & Such Literary Agency, Janet Kobobel Grant, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370, www.booksandsuch.biz.

  Scripture references are taken from the New International Version, copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society.

  Scripture references marked KJV were taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Cover photo by Steve Gardner, PixelWorks

  Publisher's Note: The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 • 15 14 13 12 11

  "Be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God." (Romans 12:2 KJV)

  DEDICATION

  To Ora Jay and Irene and your daughters in heaven.

  Thank you for sharing your story. Thank you for sharing your life and your faith. May many be as touched by glimpses of your story as I have been.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tramp Soup (Potato Soup)

  Fruit Tapioca

  Oatmeal Butter Crisps

  Haystacks

  Betty's Salad

  Author's Note

  Teaser Chapter for Book 2

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am thankful for my friends who have welcomed me into their home and who've shared the Amish lifestyle with me:

  Ora Jay and Irene Esh

  Dennis and Viola Bontrager

  Ida Miller

  Betty Yoder

  Marilyn Miller

  Linda Keim

  Irene Beachy

  This book also wouldn't be possible without my dear friend Martha Artyomenko. Martha was my guide through Amish country, my research buddy, and my first reader. Growing up among the West Kootenai Amish, she provided valuable influence. Also thank you to Amy Lathrop and Cara Putman for reading through my story and giving your input, too.

  I also appreciate the B&H team, especially Karen Ball and Julie Gwinn. Thank you for loving this story as much as I do and believing in me!

  I'm also thankful for my agent, Janet Grant. You always encourage, always believe!

  And I'm thankful for my family: John, Cory and Katie, Leslie, Nathan and baby Alyssa. I couldn't write about a loving family unless I experienced one myself.

  Finally, to my best friend Jesus Christ. None of this would be possible without You. Thank You for meeting me beside still waters.

  PPROLOGUE

  The memory of laughter mixed with the sound of the horse's hooves on the asphalt lulled him into a half-sleep. They still had thirty minutes until they reached home. Thankfully, the horse knew the way.

  His wife nestled at his side with their son Levi, three years old, on her lap—well, as much on her lap as the little one could fit. Their next son or daughter would be joining the family in a matter of months, and the thought of it brought a smile to his face. He'd always wanted a big family, a good wife, a small piece of land to call his own. Yes, for a time he'd considered not joining the church, but it was the thought of a family and nights like this that had helped him decide to join. He cracked his eyes open, gazing up to the stars with a heart of thankfulness. And checking the road ahead.

  Only one part of the ride home required he stay awake. It was a stretch of highway that split their country road in two. Sometimes, especially during th
e daytime, he had to wait minutes and minutes to cross because the traffic flowed so fast and heavy. Yet on nights like this he didn't expect a problem. He glanced at the highway ahead. Almost there. Once across, he could close his eyes and let the horse finish the trek.

  His wife's breathing fell soft beside him, as did the sweet breaths of his two girls. They lay on the back platform of the buggy, snuggled in heavy blankets like a warm cocoon.

  Many of his friends had wished for sons first, to carry on the family name and to help with chores—but he was overjoyed with his daughters. His love for them grew by the day, expanding from the moment he first held Marilyn's tiny hand in his. Expanding when he brushed Joanna's blonde curls. Or showed them how to make a necklace of dandelions. They were six and four years old now, impossible to believe. It seemed yesterday his eldest was born, and now two others followed. Soon to be four. He glanced at his wife's hard, round stomach.

  His own stomach felt full of too much ice cream, and the buggy's gentle sway lulled him once more. The snores of his daughters brought a smile, and he looked to the stop sign up ahead, a gray shadow under the night sky. He leaned over to rest his head on the back of the seat. His eyes fluttered closed.

  It was the blare of the horn that startled him first. Loud, deep, close. The horn of a big truck. Then bright, white light. Headlights. The jolting of the horse. An overwhelming screech of brakes.

  A terrified child's cry pierced the air. The semitruck hit the back wheels. The buggy crumbled into pieces. His body propelled forward. Pain filled him. Fear stabbed. My wife. My children!

  He heard his son's cries. Listened to his wife's moans. The baby . . .

  He slammed against the hard, jagged gravel with bone-crushing force, but adrenaline pushed him up from the ground. Standing, his eyes darted from side to side as he tried to make sense of what had happened. The sight of the truck shuddering to a stop filled his vision. The scent of burning rubber from the truck's tires overpowered him. Up ahead the horse raced down the road. The buggy lay around him in pieces.

  Staggering toward his wife's cries and the cries of his son, he sunk onto the ground next to them and embraced them, thankful they were safe. His whole body trembled. He looked back over his shoulders to his daughters—

  His daughters.

  Red and blue lights swirled in the peaceful night sky, and Abe told himself to turn and walk away. There was nothing he could do for his daughters now. He reached down and took his daughter, Joanna's, tiny hand in his. It was cold. Limp.

  Footsteps sounded on the gravel. A cold air picked up, and Abe thought he smelled rain.

  "Sir, can I ask you a few questions?"

  Abe swallowed hard and lowered his head. "Ja. I—" The words grew in his throat and he pushed them out. "I fell asleep."

  He could hear the Englisch officer writing something in his small notepad.

  "It is the Lord's will . . ." A guttural cry escaped Abe's lips. It didn't sound like his own voice.

  "Abe!" Ruth's cry carried through the night. His wife called his name again. "Abe!"

  He rose, hurried toward the ambulance. When the paramedics had arrived, they checked Levi and Ruth first. Seeing Ruth's pregnancy, they forced her to lie down in the back of the vehicle. Abe thought for certain she'd protest, but with a hand on her stomach she nodded.

  Now her pale face reflected horror, disbelief, heartbreak. Abe looked away.

  "We should take you to the hospital for observation." The paramedic's voice was gentle.

  "No." Ruth shook her head. "No."

  She wouldn't leave. Not yet. A mother doesn't leave her daughters behind.

  Now Abe looked to his wife, frail, pale, tucked under a white sheet. Levi stood beside her, eyes wide. He was dirty but only had a few scratches. Levi had insisted on putting his hat back on even though the rim was crushed. It sat on his head crooked.

  Two paramedics tended to Ruth now, and there wasn't room for him inside. Abe stretched his hand for his wife. Tears streaked her cheeks and her neck was flush.

  "Did you see them?" The words came out in a moan.

  "Our girls stand before their Creator now." It was the only assurance he could give her. He'd told her the same thing fifteen minutes ago, before the ambulance arrived. She'd been curled in a crumbled heap on the ground, rocking Levi, and he'd told her they were gone. Ruth hadn't wanted to believe him then, and from the look on her face she still wouldn't do so.

  Her lips pressed tight and the smallest moan escaped. Her hands clenched her abdomen and he realized these tears weren't only for their daughters, but for the child to come.

  "The baby comes now, Abe." Her hazel eyes, the color of a backlit storm cloud, widened.

  "No," he whispered. "It is too soon."

  The paramedic's large hand touched Abe's arm. "We have to get her to a hospital now, sir."

  "There is not time, Abe. Tell them there is not time! The baby comes." Ruth panted the words.

  The pain of losing his daughters magnified—they would lose another this night. Two months yet. Ruth birthed small babies anyhow. This one . . . how could it make it so soon?

  Abe looked to her face. Ruth's jaw clenched.

  One of the paramedics jumped down from the vehicle, preparing to shut the doors.

  Abe stretched out a hand, stopping him. "There is no time."

  He watched his wife draw back her legs and only then did the workers understand. Abe reached inside the ambulance and pulled Levi into his arms, hurrying to the side of the vehicle.

  He leaned against the cold steel frame of the ambulance. His shoulders trembled. His fingers twitched as he clenched Levi to his chest. His knees softened like butter melting in the sun. A pain clenched his side as more fire trucks and police cars arrived. A clomping of horse hooves filled the air too. Their Amish neighbors were beginning to gather. And then came Ruth's cries—a sound that chilled his soul. She never cried when birthing her babies. Few Amish women did. Perhaps her moans came from the knowledge of another child to be lost.

  Dear Lord, isn't our pain great enough? Save this child. Please, Lord.

  His wife's cries quieted, and Levi's hands clutched around his neck. Abe nestled his cheek against his son's ear, and the boy pulled back from the scratchiness of his father's beard. Abe knew he should do something, anything. He should pray. He should seek strength from his neighbors. He should be by Ruth's side to carry the burden. Instead, his heart crumbled like freshly tilled soil. His legs rooted, unmoving.

  "Dat?" Levi's hand wiped his face, and the sensation of tears on his cheeks made its way through the fog of Abe's brain.

  And then he heard it. Over the blaring siren of yet another vehicle approaching.

  A baby's cry.

  He expected it to be weak, but the cry grew louder. Abe hurried to the back of the ambulance. Ruth held the tiny bundle to her chest. The baby's red body wiggled. The paramedic's surprised laughter met Abe's ears.

  "A boy?" Abe looked to the paramedic.

  "A girl. Small but healthy."

  My daughters.

  Abe looked behind him where police officers were carrying away two bundles in sheets.

  Marilyn. Joanna.

  He looked back to his wife. Instead of looking at the baby, her eyes stared into the dark night. The baby cried again.

  My daughter.

  "Marianna. We will name her, Marianna." He climbed in the back of the ambulance, clambering to get to his wife's side. "We will name her after our gir—our girls."

  His wife nodded, but she did not respond. Then she looked to him, and her gaze said it all . . .

  How could one ever take the place of two?

  Dear June-Sevenies,

  Can you keep a secret yet? One I haven't told my mom or even my best friend, Rebecca? Aaron Zook has asked me on a date. Yes, the Aaron I always talk about. The one who cleans my fish for me at the river and who sat next to me at the last youth gathering. He wants to wait until fall, I'm not sure why. Have you ever heard of ha
ving to wait four months for someone to take you for a buggy ride and a picnic? His eyes were bright as he asked me. As clear of blue as any bright, spring morning sky. Listen to me. I sound like a woman in love. Not quite, but I could see it happening. When I look to the rows of corn stalks low and green in the fields, I think of them tall, golden, and swaying in the wind as I ride in Aaron's buggy.

  If the truth be known, I couldn't have dreamed of anything better. Dat always tells me I have my head in the clouds when I'm working around the house. What would he think if he knew all my daydreams centered on having a house of my own with a special man? With the very same special man who confessed he thinks I'm special, too. That dream is only followed by imaginings of our children, ach, what pretty little tykes they'll be.

  I'm glad I can tell all of you and know it won't get back to Mem. I've told my older brother Levi, too. He's the only one. He hasn't spoke to Dat in months. Hasn't even shown his face round the farm. A few of you have met my father and you might wonder what Levi fears. I don't think my brother fears my father's words or his wrath. I think it's the disappointment in Dat's gaze, and knowing the hurt he's caused. Some people carry their heart around in pieces. A bit in this pocket, a few pieces in that satchel. Even during their happiest days my folks protect their fragile load.

  Lena, congratulations on the new member of your family! Do your sisters number five now? Finally, more than the boys!

  The evening light is fading, I best be going yet. This will be a short letter, but I want to get the envelope moving along. Oh, one more thing, Clara, you can be sure I'll find a ride to your wedding in September. I have no plans except tending to my siblings and the neighbor's children. And waiting for that promised date, of course.