Return to Paradise Read online

  Return to Paradise

  Other books by Barbara Cameron

  The Quilts of Lancaster County Series

  A Time to Love

  A Time to Heal

  A Time for Peace

  Annie’s Christmas Wish

  The Stitches in Time Series

  Her Restless Heart

  The Heart’s Journey

  Heart in Hand

  The Quilts of Love Series

  Scraps of Evidence

  The Amish Road Series

  A Road Unknown

  Crossroads

  One True Path

  Twice Blessed: Two Amish Christmas Stories

  Return to Paradise

  Copyright © 2016 Barbara Cameron

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by the 1976 Copyright Act or in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission can be addressed to Permissions, The United Methodist Publishing House, 2222 Rosa L. Parks Blvd., P.O. Box 280988, Nashville, TN, 37228-0988 or e-mailed to [email protected].

  The persons and events portrayed in this work of fiction are the creations of the author, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Macro Editor: Teri Wilhelms

  Published in association with Books & Such Literary Agency

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Cameron, Barbara, 1949- author.

  Title: Return to paradise / Barbara Cameron.

  Description: Nashville, Tennessee : Abingdon Press, [2016] | Series: The

  coming home series ; book 1

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016001891 (print) | LCCN 2016009631 (ebook) | ISBN

  9781426770883 (pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781501816284 (e-book)

  Subjects: LCSH: Amish--Fiction. | Paradise (Lancaster County, Pa.)--Fiction.

  | GSAFD: Christian fiction. | Love stories.

  Classification: LCC PS3603.A4473 R48 2016 (print) | LCC PS3603.A4473 (ebook)

  | DDC 813/.6--dc23

  LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016001891

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

  For Monica

  For cheering me on. Wishing you bestsellerdom!

  A Note to the Reader

  What does home mean to you? Family? The place you live?

  I began thinking about this in the last year or so after losing two members of my birth family within a few months of each other. It became more important to me to be physically closer to my grown children, so with the help of friends, I sold my home of twelve years in a small town and moved to a big city about an hour and a half farther north where I would be closer to my daughter and her little son.

  While my little yellow house hadn’t been my dream home, it had become a nice, quiet sanctuary for me, and a place to own and also foster a number of dogs. I didn’t realize how wrenching it would be to leave it, even though we found a small house that was brighter and located just fifteen minutes from my daughter.

  Jennifer, a woman who had started as someone helping me organize and take care of my home, became a good friend and she got me through alternating and unexpected bouts of crying as we packed. I veered between happiness when the house sold quickly—and anxiety about the process of leaving my safe little area and venturing into a big city. I am really a small town girl who doesn’t like big cities much.

  But life is all about change and growth. I started thinking about what would happen if a young man who’s always only known his Amish community but struggled with a difficult father would do if he left that community . . . and then found he needed to return.

  How would the woman he left behind feel about his return and his desire to rekindle their relationship?

  I proposed the idea of an Amish series called Coming Home to my editor, Ramona Richards, and want to thank her for her enthusiasm for the project. Abingdon Press has been the home for my Amish books for a long time, and I appreciate everything Ramona and everyone at the company does to bring my work to readers.

  I also want to thank my daughter, Stephany, and her son, Kasey, for finding me this home. They called me on her cell phone with the speaker on to tell me they had found this development which, I could hear him piping up, “has lots and lots of flowers . . .and bushes!” He sounded just like one of the hosts on the HGTV network shows he likes to watch with his mother.

  Now I sit happily in a home office with a stencil on the wall behind me that says, “Home is where your story begins.”

  Of course, my biggest thanks goes to God for giving me life and helping me to tell stories of hope and faith and love.

  1

  You’re sighing again.”

  Lavina looked up from the baby quilt she was sewing and stared at Mary Elizabeth, her schweschder. “What?”

  “You’re sighing.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are,” Rose Anna, her youngest schweschder, said quietly. “Ever since we sat down to sew.” Her blue eyes were kind. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Who,” said Mary Elizabeth. “A better question is who is she thinking about?”

  “I’m not thinking about anyone.”

  Both her schweschders frowned at her. Lavina was twenty-three, the oldest of the three, but the way they looked at her she felt as if she were a kind. The three of them were barely a year apart and looked so alike with their blonde hair, blue eyes, and petite figures they could have passed for triplets.

  “Maybe I’m just tired.” Lavina set the quilt aside, got up and walked over to look out the window. Leaves the color of gold, red, and orange danced in the wind, heralding autumn. It used to be her favorite season. The long, hot summer and all the work of harvest, canning, and preserving was over.

  But weddings were taking place now. This time last year she’d thought she and David were getting married . . .

  “She’s doing it again,” she heard Rose Anna whisper behind her.

  “Tea,” Lavina said, and she turned and gave them a bright smile. “Anyone want a cup of tea?”

  “Schur.”

  She walked into the kitchen, filled the teakettle, and put it on the stove. Her glance went to the calendar on the wall. She looked away at how many weddings were noted for the month.

  This time last year she’d been planning on marrying David Stoltzfus and making a home for them.

  Sinking into a chair at the table, she cupped her chin in her hands and waited for the water to come to a boil.

  “Lavina?”

  She looked up. “Hmm?”

  “I’ve always found that if you want the water to boil you have to turn the gas on under the kettle.” Mary Elizabeth demonstrated by turning the dial. Her mouth quirked in a smile.

  “Oh, ya. Silly me.”

  Mary Elizabeth pulled out the chair next to Lavina and sat. “I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. I was just thinking about something and forgot to turn it on.”

  “You’re sad.”

  Lavina did her best not to sigh. “Ya. I’m sad. I’ll get over it.”

  She racked her brain for something to talk about, a way to change the subject. Mary Elizabeth wasn’t shy about pressing an issue when she wanted to.

  “I think I’ll have a cookie. Want one? Mamm made some chocolate chip.”

  “Schur. But— ”

  “Are you going into town with me to Leah’s tomorrow?”

  “Maybe next time. Mamm and I are goin
g over to Waneta’s house. Listen—”

  “Leah’s going to be happy I’m bringing her orders in a little early.”

  “I know.”

  “I think she’s going to be really happy with that Sunshine and Shadow quilt you made.”

  Mary Elizabeth shrugged. “I like that pattern. And the tourists like the old traditional Amish patterns.”

  “Well, you did a great job on it.”

  “If I have time I want to do a Broken Star pattern before Christmas.”

  Lavina brought the cookie jar to the table and tried to hide her smile. Finally she’d distracted her schweschder from worrying about her.

  They talked about quilt patterns for a few minutes and then the teakettle shrieked.

  Mary Elizabeth got up to turn the gas off. She filled two cups and sat again.

  “I should get tea for Rose Anna.”

  “She can come get it if she wants.” Mary Elizabeth handed her a tea bag and then chose one for herself from the bowl on the table.

  Lavina listlessly dunked the tea bag over and over in the cup until Mary Elizabeth took it from her and set it the saucer. “Go ahead,” Lavina said. “Tell me I have to get over him.”

  “I’m not going to tell you that.”

  Lavina looked up. “You’re not?”

  “Nee. You love David and time apart isn’t making you forget about him.”

  “He made his decision. And he didn’t ask me to leave Paradise with him.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  Shocked, Lavina stared at her schwesder. “You know I didn’t! I couldn’t!”

  “You could have. You chose not to.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  A windstorm of emotions swirled up inside her. Lavina rose, paced the kitchen. “I couldn’t make that choice. You know I’d have been shunned. I joined the church. But David hadn’t.”

  “I wonder—” Mary Elizabeth stopped, then took a deep breath. “Lavina, would you have been as miserable as you’ve been since David left? You’d have been with him.”

  “Well, that’s blunt.”

  “Ya, you know I say what I think.”

  “There’s just one thing you’re forgetting. David didn’t ask me to marry him. He didn’t ask me to go with him.”

  “I know.” Mary Elizabeth fell silent for a long moment. “I do understand what you’re feeling. Only a few months after David left his bruder Samuel went with him and took part of my heart.”

  Lavina reached out her and touched Mary Elizabeth’s. “I know.”

  Rose Anna wandered into the room. “I thought you were going to fix tea. You’re having it without me.” She put her hands on her hips and pouted.

  Mary Elizabeth stood and poured another cup of hot water. “It’s my fault. I was talking to her. We weren’t trying to make you feel left out.”

  Rose Anna sniffed but took a seat to the right of Lavina. “What were you talking about?”

  Lavina started to say it was nothing, but knowing how Rose Anna, the youngest, was acting, she figured it would just make her feel even more left out.

  “Mary Elizabeth feels I should have gone with David when he left the community.”

  Rose Anna’s face took on a dreamy expression. “That would have been so romantic.”

  “He didn’t ask her to go with him,” Mary Elizabeth said. “Remember?”

  Lavina’s heart sank. She felt sandwiched in by Blunt Schweschder on one side and Hopeless Romantic Schweschder on the other.

  Could the three of them be any more different?

  “It was bad enough he left,” Rose Anna complained. “But he didn’t have to take his bruders with him. I really cared about John . . .” Tears filled her eyes.

  “We have to stop talking about this,” Mary Elizabeth said. “We’re just going to depress ourselves.”

  “I agree,” Lavina said. And heard herself sigh. “I kept hoping he’d change his mind.” She shook her head and stood. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Take your jacket,” Mary Elizabeth said. “It’s getting a little chilly.”

  “Yes, Mamm,” she said, making a face at her. But she took the jacket. And then, after only a moment’s hesitation, she put some of the oatmeal raisin cookies they’d baked earlier into a plastic baggie and took them with her. Mary Elizabeth gave her a knowing look. She knew where Lavina was headed.

  David’s home—his former home—was just a half-mile from hers so it was no wonder they’d been close as kinner. They’d walked to schul together, played together, gone to youth activities at church together. As the years had passed they’d become such good friends. More than friends. She had thought they were going to get married and then, after repeated arguments with their bishop, he’d suddenly moved away.

  She frowned as she neared the Stoltzfus home and saw Waneta, David’s mamm, sitting on the front porch looking miserable.

  “Waneta? Are you allrecht?”

  “Lavina, gut-n-owed.” She tried to smile. “I’m fine. Just getting some air.”

  “Chilly air.” Lavina climbed the steps and took a seat in the rocking chair next to her. “I thought I’d take a walk and bring you some cookies we baked earlier.”

  “Such a sweet maedel. Danki.”

  Lavina took one of the woman’s hands in hers and found it was cold. She chafed it. “Why don’t we go inside and have some with a cup of tea?”

  Suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass inside the house. Waneta jumped and glanced back fearfully.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Just my mann being careless,” Waneta said. “You know men, so clumsy.”

  The front door opened, and he stuck his head out. “Where’s my supper?” he demanded. Then he saw Lavina. “You come around to ask about David? Well don’t! I don’t have a sohn!” The door slammed.

  Waneta jumped. “He doesn’t mean it.” But tears welled up in her eyes. “He’s not well.”

  “Not well?” David had told her once that his dat sometimes drank . . .

  Tears rolled down Waneta’s cheeks. “The doctor told us today that he has the cancer.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. Then she looked at Lavina, seemed to struggle with herself. “Lavina, do you ever hear from David?”

  She shook her head. “You know I would come tell you. We’ve talked about this. If either of us heard from him, we’d tell the other. It wouldn’t matter if we’re supposed to shun him. We’d tell each other.”

  “He needs to come home,” Waneta said, sobbing now. “He and Samuel and John. They need to come home or they may never see their dat again.”

  ***

  David sat in his new-to-him pickup truck in the driveway of his Englisch friend Bill’s house.

  It had taken him a year to save up enough for the five-year-old pickup truck, but he’d firmly resisted the temptation to get a flashy new truck because it meant buying on credit. He wasn’t dead set against credit. Sometimes a person had to use it. Land was expensive in Lancaster County. Unless you inherited it you often had to arrange for a bank loan.

  The memory of the farm he’d grown up on flashed into his mind. He firmly pushed it away. He didn’t miss all the arguments with his dat and with the bishop.

  David missed Lavina, but there was no point in thinking about her. He couldn’t have her so he had to keep pushing her out of his mind. After being away from her for a whole year now, he was down to only having to do that a couple of times a day.

  He wondered what she would think of the truck. One of their favorite things had always been to go for a buggy ride.

  “Ready for your first ride?” Bill asked as he got into passenger seat.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where are we headed?”

  David shrugged. “I don’t know. Where shall we go?”

  “Let’s just do some country roads, get you used to the truck.”

  “And not scare you in Paradise traffic?”

  “You didn’t scare me when I
was teaching you to drive.”

  “Right.”

  Bill chuckled. “Well, not much, anyway. Now, teaching my younger brother, that was scary. Kid has such a lead foot.”

  David went through the steps Bill had taught him to do prior to turning on the ignition. Fasten seat belt. Check. Position rearview mirrors. Check. Check gas gauge. Check. Release parking brake. Check. Turn on ignition. Check. Put car in gear. Check. Look for traffic.

  “You forgot a step.”

  David stopped the truck before he left the driveway and turned to his friend. “What?”

  “You forgot to check out your appearance, dude.” Bill pulled the visor down and checked his hair, smoothing it with one hand, then checked out his smile before he turned the visor back. “C’mon, don’t be shy. You want to look good for the ladies when you cruise.”

  With a laugh, David pulled down his visor and checked out his appearance. After months, he was still not used to seeing himself with an Englisch haircut. He hadn’t recognized himself in the glass store window he’d passed the day after the haircut. He’d had to take a second look, see that it was him, see the dark blue eyes and square jaw, the brown, almost black hair.

  “And don’t forget the shades,” Bill said, passing him the pair he’d urged David to buy. “They’re not just to look cool. You have to be careful about glare when you’re driving.”

  “So much to remember. It was easier to just hitch up a horse.”

  “But wait ’til you get this baby out on the road and feel the horsepower under the hood,” Bill said, stretching out his long legs. He tilted his own sunglasses down and looked at David over the top of them. “Not that I’m urging you to speed.”

  “Not going to do that,” David said firmly. “Speeding tickets are a waste of good money.”

  “Wise man. Too bad I didn’t think that way when I first started driving. ’Course, it’s part of growing up, I guess. In my culture, I mean.”

  “Guys in their rumschpringe race their buggies,” David said as he checked for traffic and eased out of the driveway. “You’d be surprised the speed some of them can get out of them. Sometimes the Amish buy horses that have been retired from racing.”