Phoebe's Gift Read online

  BOOKS BY JERRY S. EICHER

  THE ADAMS COUNTY TRILOGY

  Rebecca’s Promise

  Rebecca’s Return

  Rebecca’s Choice

  THE BEILER SISTERS

  Holding a Tender Heart

  Seeing Your Face Again

  Finding Love at Home

  EMMA RABER’S DAUGHTER

  Katie Opens Her Heart

  Katie’s Journey to Love

  Katie’s Forever Promise

  FIELDS OF HOME

  Missing Your Smile

  Following Your Heart

  Where Love Grows

  HANNAH’S HEART

  A Dream for Hannah

  A Hope for Hannah

  A Baby for Hannah

  LAND OF PROMISE

  Miriam’s Secret

  A Blessing for Miriam

  Miriam and the Stranger

  LITTLE VALLEY

  A Wedding Quilt for Ella

  Ella’s Wish

  Ella Finds Love Again

  THE ST. LAWRENCE COUNTY AMISH

  A Heart Once Broken

  Until I Love Again

  Always Close to Home

  PEACE IN THE VALLEY

  Silvia’s Rose

  Phoebe’s Gift

  Mary’s Home

  STANDALONES

  My Amish Childhood

  The Amish Family Cookbook (with Tina Eicher)

  HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

  EUGENE, OREGON

  Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Cover by Garborg Design Works

  Cover Image © Dean Fikar, volgarivar, Cozy Nook / Bigstock

  The author is represented by MacGregor Literary, Inc.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  PHOEBE’S GIFT

  Copyright © 2017 by Jerry S. Eicher

  Published by Harvest House Publishers

  Eugene, Oregon 97402

  www.harvesthousepublishers.com

  ISBN 978-0-7369-6932-1 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-6933-8 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Eicher, Jerry S., author.

  Title: Phoebe’s gift / Jerry S. Eicher.

  Description: Eugene, Oregon: Harvest House Publishers, [2017] | Series: Peace in the valley; 2

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017004441 (print) | LCCN 2017010977 (ebook) | ISBN 9780736969321 (softcover) | ISBN 9780736969338 (ebook)

  Subjects: LCSH: Amish—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Christian / Romance. | GSAFD: Christian fiction. | Love stories.

  Classification: LCC PS3605.I34 P48 2017 (print) | LCC PS3605.I34 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6 — dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017004441

  All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s and publisher’s rights is strictly prohibited.

  CONTENTS

  Books by Jerry S. Eicher

  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

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Questions

  A Beautiful Rose, Like True Love, Never Fades

  How to Heal a Broken Heart

  Ready to Discover More?

  About the Publisher

  ONE

  Phoebe Lapp entered the low-beamed barn and closed the rickety door behind her. Cobwebs laced the ceiling and hung on the highest rafters, where the haymow opened into the loft. Cleaning the barn was her responsibility, but there hadn’t been enough hours in the day with the constant care Grandma had needed this past year. Now it didn’t matter. Grandma Lapp was gone. Since the funeral, none of the family had complained about the barn’s condition. They had mourned and comforted each other with the godly testimony Grandma had left behind. Mamm and Daett had departed an hour ago with two van-loads of relatives for the long journey back to Lancaster. Now silence followed the sorrow.

  Phoebe jumped when a man appeared from the stalls in front of her. “David Fisher!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  He ducked his head. “Just checking on the ponies. Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

  “No. I mean, that’s okay,” she stammered. “I’m collecting my thoughts after…” She waved her hand in the direction of the house, where the funeral had been held. “Of course you’re here. Someone has to do the chores.”

  His smile was crooked. “I’ll be going now. Do you know what happens from here? I mean, with the ponies?”

  Phoebe shook her head. “That’s a problem. No one has made any plans.”

  “Well, if I can be of any help, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll continue to cover the chores until a decision is made on…I mean…” He searched for words. “We all knew Grandma Lapp would pass, but it was still kind of unexpected.”

  “Yes.”

  “I…Sometimes I…ah, I really should be going.”

  “It’s very kind of you to help with the chores,” she called after him. “Thanks so much.”

  “I’m more than glad to help out Grandma Lapp.” He paused and ducked his head again. A moment later he vanished through the barn door.

  Phoebe stared after him. David and his sister Ruth had a close relationship with Grandma Lapp and lived a mile south of her farm. Beyond that, Phoebe hadn’t asked questions about the Fisher family. Grandma Lapp had run things her own way. Not that any of the family had complained. David was shy and carried the burden of the Fisher family’s ne’er-do-well reputation in the valley—which wasn’t fair, from what she could see. David had always performed his duties for Grandma. A man shouldn’t be held accountable for his daett’s inability to run his farm efficiently.

  A chorus of neighs from the horse stalls along the far end of the barn interrupted Phoebe’s thoughts. The sound brought a smile to her face. Grandma’s horses were known in the district.
Her Assateague ponies were little wild horses from Maryland who had no business being in an Amish community nestled under the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains, but they were here nonetheless. Cousin Herman Yoder—Aunt Millie’s husband’s relative—had seen to that, although the idea must have come from Grandma. Cousin Herman wouldn’t have been able to talk Grandma into something she didn’t fully support.

  Phoebe leaned over the wooden boards of the first stall and stroked the pony’s nose. “Howdy, little one.”

  She had never been told their names. Grandma had not been well enough to explain such things or to say why she kept Assateague ponies as pets.

  Phoebe moved on to the next stall. In the past year she had taken every precious second she could find away from her duties in the house to spend time with the ponies. They soothed her spirits as she cared for Grandma during her waning days. The ponies were small compared to a regular horse, sort of stuck in the middle like Phoebe. Here she was in her midtwenties with no prospects of marriage, and now her duties in the valley had drawn to a close. Several unmarried men in Lancaster had taken her home for Sunday evening dates before she came to the valley, but the relationships had all fizzled for one reason or another.

  “Something will come up if I go back,” Phoebe muttered. She opened the back barn door to release the three ponies from their stalls. She watched as they raced into the pasture, their heels lifted joyously at their newfound freedom. They were proud little creatures, half wild, and yet loving and tender once their hearts were won.

  Why had Grandma asked Cousin Herman to buy the small horses? Grandma never did anything without a reason. Phoebe had been a child when Grandpa Tobias passed in a terrible farm accident, and afterward people said that Grandma had become eccentric—but that didn’t explain the ponies. Maybe there were no answers, and the ponies would be disposed of along with the rest of the farm now that Grandma had gone to her rest. Phoebe would find out soon enough. Someone would be by this morning to begin the sale process, and she would have to make her own plans.

  There was always the option of returning to Lancaster, and life would go on in Mamm and Daett’s old house outside of Gap. Her parents were ready to build a dawdy haus and turn the farm over to her youngest brother, Ernest, and his frau, Thelma, along with their three children. Perhaps some handsome unmarried man would notice her return from the valley. Phoebe smiled dreamily. She had never been in a rush, but the years were passing.

  Her parents had hoped she would find a husband in the valley, but she’d been too busy with Grandma the last year to think about marriage. And whom would she have dated? The valley community was small, and the eligible young men who didn’t have girlfriends were few and far between. David was available, but she and he didn’t exactly fit. He was too shy for her timid ways, and his family had a poor reputation—whether he deserved it or not.

  The little one-room schoolhouse on Peckville Road didn’t have a schoolteacher for this term. She had overheard Fannie Fisher, the deacon’s frau, say so this past Sunday. Phoebe could apply for the job, and if accepted, try her hand at teaching. Maybe that was what she should do. She was a baptized member of the community. She had always loved children, and she’d enjoyed her own school years. What other qualifications did she need?

  For Phoebe, though, the shadows were more comfortable than the bright sunlight. Teaching school would place one in the full exposure of either the community’s approval or dislike. On the plus side, she would have a drawing card when any unmarried men ventured into the valley in search of prospective wives.

  Phoebe sighed. She gazed at the three ponies as they trotted across the pasture with their manes and tails flowing out behind them. How freely they lived, without a worry or concern in the world. She wanted to live like that. She wanted to move through life with both abandonment and certainty. Why could she not be like Grandma—bold, confident, and tenderhearted all at the same time? But she was no Grandma Lapp. She was plain Phoebe Lapp. There was no other way to look at things.

  Phoebe jerked her head up when she heard buggy wheels in the driveway behind her. The ponies also noticed the new arrival and stood with their heads turned toward the barn, their ears perked up. Someone from the family had arrived. Uncle Homer, most likely.

  Phoebe took slow steps toward the barn door before Uncle Homer burst through.

  “There you are!” he exclaimed.

  “Yah,” Phoebe muttered, but Uncle Homer hurried on.

  “Cousin Herman here has agreed to take the horses.” Uncle Homer motioned over his shoulder with his beard. “And help us sell them.”

  Phoebe forced a smile. This was not unexpected, and it was the logical conclusion to Grandma’s venture into owning the ponies.

  Cousin Herman walked inside, tipped his hat, and smiled. “Goot morning, Phoebe. I’m sorry about the ponies and for the loss of the woman we all loved. I haven’t had a chance to tell you personally.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You have done goot taking care of Grandma Lapp this past year,” Cousin Herman added. “She endeared herself to all of us, but to you especially, I suppose.”

  “We grew close, yah.” Phoebe pressed back the tears. “She was a sweet grandma.”

  Both men nodded, and Cousin Herman continued. “She was a special woman.”

  “Like her Assateague ponies!” Uncle Homer snorted. “She was a little strange, but she was a goot mamm. I don’t disagree with that.”

  “Yet look how you turned out,” Cousin Herman teased.

  Uncle Homer ignored the jab. He walked to the back barn door and hollered over his shoulder. “Maybe you can help call them in, Phoebe. We’ll tie them to the back of my buggy. I think Herman and I can handle three little horses between the two of us.”

  Ponies, not horses. Phoebe wanted to correct her uncle, but why protest? Cousin Herman had stepped forward to help Uncle Homer, and she was clearly supposed to follow. Yet she knew she had to say something. Otherwise the moment would be lost forever.

  “I’d like to keep the ponies,” she croaked. Where did this nerve come from?

  Uncle Homer’s head whirled about. “Keep them? How would you do such a thing?”

  Phoebe moved her hand around in a circle. “They can stay here in the barn until I find a place to live, and—”

  “I don’t think that’s wise!” Uncle Homer proclaimed. He stroked his beard. “I never did agree with Mamm’s plan for these horses.”

  “Her plan!” Phoebe drew a sharp breath. “What plan?”

  “She never told you?” Uncle Homer eyed her sharply. “I expected Mamm spent the last year filling your ears with her harebrained idea.”

  Phoebe stilled her rapid breathing. “What is this plan? I’ve wondered plenty myself.”

  “It’s not going to happen,” Uncle Homer said. “I told Mamm it was foolishness, but nothing could turn her from her fancies once she set her mind to them. And since Daett’s passing, who of us children could tell her no?”

  Cousin Herman shrugged from the back barn door, his eyes locked on the ponies as if to say he bore no responsibility for Grandma’s scheme.

  “You’ll have to tell me now,” Phoebe told him. She couldn’t believe her boldness this morning.

  Uncle Homer continued. “We have a spare room at our house, and there is an opening for a schoolteacher this fall. You can take that job. We will speak no more about the horses.”

  “But…but…I will find out somehow, and then what?” Phoebe said. “Why are you doing this, Uncle Homer, when you know that Grandma’s ideas were always right? She was the kindest, gentlest person any of us knew.”

  Uncle Homer flinched. Clearly her arrow had found the mark.

  “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you,” he finally mused. “How can this be, Cousin Herman? You are the one who bought the horses for her.”

  “Hey, don’t blame me!” Cousin Herman yelped. “I couldn’t tell the woman no, and she didn’t fully explain to me why she wan
ted them.”

  “Of course she didn’t.” Uncle Homer fixed a fierce gaze on the hapless Cousin Herman. “She paid you well, and you made fancy trips down to Englisha places. You even got your picture in the paper over it.”

  “Well, it…I…it wasn’t my fault,” Cousin Herman sputtered. “And what harm could come from humoring an old woman?”

  “That much harm!” Uncle Homer gestured toward the ponies as they ran in the pasture. He turned back to Phoebe. “I thought for sure Mamm brought you up from Lancaster to carry on her dream.”

  “Really, Uncle. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “I guess that would be like her now that I think about it,” Uncle Homer muttered. “Trusting in the Lord and getting her way as usual. Confound that woman.”

  “She was your mamm,” Cousin Herman pointed out. He hid his smile with a quick turn of his head.

  Uncle Homer still noticed. “I guess that’s true,” he grumbled.

  “So are you going to tell me?” Phoebe clasped and unclasped her hands. What was this great secret? Grandma must have asked for her to move in from Lancaster for reasons beyond the obvious. Never had Phoebe imagined such a thing.

  “You want to step right into your grandma’s shoes,” Uncle Homer said. “What makes you think you’d be up to it?”

  Phoebe’s heart pounded. “If Grandma thought I could do this—whatever it is—then I surely can.”

  Uncle Homer grunted. Somehow she said all the right things this morning.

  “We are reading the will later,” he continued. “But I am already aware of its contents. We were expecting Mamm to leave something to force our hand, but there is nothing. All the children will receive equal shares of the farm, which means…” He paused. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, Phoebe. How about we forget this conversation? Cousin Herman will take the ponies and sell them in no time, and you—”

  Phoebe shook her head.

  He sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

  Cousin Herman spoke up. “I think your conscience is bothering you, Homer. You shouldn’t have opposed your mamm’s plan to begin with. She might have lived a little longer with something worthwhile in her life.”

  “You always were on her side.” Uncle Homer glared at Cousin Herman.