Missing Your Smile Read online

  Readers of Amish fiction love Jerry Eicher’s Little Valley series…

  Ella Yoder, a young, independent Amish woman, suffered a terrible loss. But now she must pick up the pieces of her shattered life and move forward. Will her faith in God and in her community survive?

  Ella and Aden’s wedding and their move to their dream house is set for June. The beautiful wedding quilt is almost finished when tragedy strikes and the life they’d planned together is demolished. Why would God take my true love home? Ella wonders.

  With Aden gone, Ella’s future is uncertain. Daniel, Aden’s brother, decides to finish Aden and Ella’s dream house. Should Ella sell the home and land? Or will she go against tradition and move in to the home alone?

  Ella Yoder has moved into her dream house. Living alone for the first time, she ponders her options. How is she to make a living? How will she live without Aden? What is to become of her?

  Two would-be suitors soon make their intentions known. Ella agrees to take care of Preacher Stutzman’s three motherless girls. Her heart is touched by their love for her. Could their affection be the answer for Ella’s shattered heart? Does God want her to marry Ivan so she can be the mother his three children need? But there’s the bishop’s offer of marriage to consider…and the unusual option of staying single and living in the home Aden designed.

  Ella loves the widower Ivan Stutzman’s children. She is genuinely devoted to Ivan and keenly aware of his desire to propose, but her feelings stop just short of romance. Is her love for Ivan’s children enough to make a marriage work?

  When a handsome Englisha man seeks Ella out to ask about the Amish faith, Ella is wary but intrigued. She agrees to meet with him—but only with the bishop’s approval. Soon Ella is torn between her devotion to Ivan and his children and her growing feelings for the Englisha. With dire consequences at stake, Ella must determine what her heart really wants, what God’s will is for her, and whether she will stay true to her Amish heritage.

  Jerry Eicher’s Hannah’s Heart series follows Hannah Byler’s quest for true love within the traditions of the Amish faith. Although life in rural Montana is unfamiliar and at times dangerous, Hannah learns to thrive as she shoulders new responsibilities, deals with sudden hardships, and embraces her place in this small community of believers.

  Hannah Miller’s Amish faith is solid and her devotion to family and the Amish community unquestionable. Yet her young spirit longs for adventure and romance. Troubling circumstances arise that provide a good excuse to spend the summer in Montana at a relative’s ranch.

  Her heart awhirl with emotion, Hannah dreams about her future. Sam, the boy Hannah has known all her life, is comfortable and predictable. Peter is a wild card. And Jake is unpredictable and mysterious. Hoping for a dream come true, Hannah leaves the life she’s known and sets out for the wilds of Montana.

  Hannah and her husband live near a small Amish community in a rough log cabin that is far from everything Hannah holds dear. Anxious about her new role as wife and soon-to-be mother, Hannah understands she must learn to control her anxious heart if her marriage is to survive.

  When her husband loses his job and answers the call to ministry, they discover hardships will either drive them apart or draw them closer together. With winter pressing in and money scarce, Hannah is determined to find hope despite the fearful conditions.

  Hannah is adjusting to married life. While her husband works long days as a furniture maker and minister, she stays busy keeping their home in order. Both anticipate their baby’s birth with joy.

  When word of a Mennonite tent revival spreads and worry about losing church members mounts, Hannah’s sister arrives and quickly catches the eye of a bachelor whose brother left the church during the last revival. And when a neighbor—an Englisha—announces his interest in one of the Amish widows, Hannah’s husband is caught in the middle of the controversy.

  Will Hannah and her husband’s determination to stay faithful to God and the traditions of their church survive the turmoil?

  HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

  EUGENE, OREGON

  Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota

  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, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  MISSING YOUR SMILE

  Copyright © 2012 by Jerry S. Eicher

  Published by Harvest House Publishers

  Eugene, Oregon 97402

  www.harvesthousepublishers.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Eicher, Jerry S.

  Missing your smile / Jerry S. Eicher.

  p. cm. — (Fields of home ; bk. 1)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-3943-0 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-4244-7 (eBook)

  1. Amish—Fiction. 2. Amish women—Fiction. I Title.

  PS3605.I34M57 2012

  813'.6—dc22

  2011021196

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America

  12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 /LB-SK/ 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Readers of Amish fiction love Jerry Eicher’s Little Valley series…

  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

  Discussion Questions

  Following Your Heart

  About Jerry Eicher…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Susan Hostetler drew in her breath, her eyes drawn down the crowded street to the odd sight. Why on earth would Amish people be coming to the Oyster Festival in Asbury Park? she wondered. Hadn’t she moved far enough away from Indiana and her Amish roots?

  She resumed slicing the roast beef as an older man and his wife in front of the concession stand stared at her, waiting for their sandwiches.

  “Sorry about that. Something just gave me a start,” she said. “I’ll have this ready in a minute.”

  The couple turned in the direction of Susan’s gaze and then exchanged glances.

  “I don’t see anything,” the woman muttered. “Unless it’s those Amish folks.”

  The man shook his head. “They’re pretty harmless. They’re not murderers on the loo
se or anything.” He laughed.

  Susan kept her eyes away from them, laying pieces of roast beef on the bread before adding lettuce and tomatoes. Let them laugh, and let the two think what they wanted. Sure the Amish weren’t murderers, but there was one of them back home who murdered the heart, but that likely didn’t count in the Englisha world. The sad thing was, it hadn’t counted much in the Amish world either. She should have burned her wedding dress instead of burying it in the cedar chest at home.

  Her mamm had said, “It’s each one’s choice whom to marry.” Well, Thomas had chosen, and she could also choose, regardless what anyone said about it.

  “There,” she said, wrapping the two sandwiches and shoving them across the temporary counter. “You can pay at the register.”

  They both raised their eyebrows and looked sideways at each other before moving toward Laura, who was working the register at the moment.

  Across the street, the Amish couple was moving closer to the sandwich stand. The man was tall, his beard coming down almost to his fourth shirt button. His wife stood beside him holding a little girl. The mother was in her white kapp and the girl in a black bonnet—dressed just as the Amish women had done for many years. Her people would never change. But she would. And change would help the pain go away.

  The crowd shifted and another young Amish couple appeared, following closely behind the first. He was round, like a short barrel, his wife skinny as a rail behind him. Neither of them carried a child. Susan caught herself hiding her face behind her hand, but then she realized how foolish it was. She no longer looked Amish without her kapp, and what would it matter anyway?

  “We’ll take two roast beef with all the toppings,” a girl’s voice said in front of her, bringing Susan back to the booth. “Yah…coming right up!” She glanced at the two girls before her and tried to smile as she began the sandwiches. What is wrong with me? Amish talk is supposed to be out of my system by now! And here I am saying yah again at the mere sight of Amish people.

  “So how are you two girls doing?” Susan asked as she laid out the bread. At least she could try being Englisha again.

  “Okay, I guess,” one said with a shrug. “Just the usual stuff life gives you. Most of it stinks.”

  The girl beside her giggled. They can’t be out of middle school, Susan thought. She finished wrapping the sandwiches and said, “Well, maybe these will make the day go better for you.”

  The girls smirked at each other and moved down to pay Laura.

  Down the street, the Amish couples were coming closer. Surely they wouldn’t stop at Laura’s stand. Susan really didn’t want to see Amish people up close right now. There were dozens of vendors lining the street. It would be the luck of the draw either way, but she was the only one selling roast beef sandwiches, and all the Amish Susan knew sure liked roast beef.

  I’m trying to be Englisha now. Even if they stop here, they won’t know I used to be one of them, Susan reminded herself.

  “Are you okay?” Laura asked, walking over to stand beside her.

  “Oh yah…yes…of course,” Susan said. “Why do you ask?”

  “You were a little short with the older couple. I know this festival brings a lot of business, and we’re all tired. Still, it’s not good manners to be abrupt, even if we won’t ever see these people again.”

  “I’m sorry,” Susan said. “I really am. I’ll try to do better.”

  “That’s okay.” Laura smiled. “You did better with the two girls. I know we can’t talk with everyone, especially when things get busy, but it’s a nice service touch when we can.”

  “I know,” Susan said. And she did know. Her life so far had taught her that much.

  The Amish couples paused across the street, now standing close together, their heads leaning toward each other. How like home, so natural and at ease they are. Susan forced herself to glance away. It would do no good to think about such things. She had left all that behind. This was her new life.

  In spite of herself, she looked their way again. They were talking, their lips moving and motioning with their hands. None of them looked aware of the looks they drew from curious people around them. Insulated, that’s what they are, Susan thought. She no longer was. The world they were so guarded against, she had welcomed. At least there was comfort in the fact that they didn’t know who she was, and she didn’t really know who they were.

  Susan brushed the strands of her long hair back over her shoulder, tucking them under her collar. There was no time to tighten the hair band, and it would make no difference anyway. A girl without a kapp would be Englisha to them, even with her Amish-looking dress. No questions would be aroused unless they thought she looked like a Mennonite girl. And what would an Amish or Mennonite girl be doing in a concession stand in Asbury Park?

  The Amish were crossing the street now, coming straight toward her. Susan clasped her hands, daring to look at them only in the last seconds before they stood in front of her.

  “Hi,” she said as casually as she could. “Can I help you? It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

  They ignored her questions as they searched the sandwich menu above her head. Quick glances between them followed, but no words.

  “We’ll take four roast beef sandwiches,” the older man finally said. “With everything you have on them.” His face was younger than she’d thought now that he had come up close. It was framed by his large beard. His eyes were a piercing blue.

  Susan turned and busied herself with the bread and roast beef. She reached for the lettuce, peppers, onions, tomato, and mayonnaise. Why did the man have blue eyes? And why did they cut so deep into her? Was he a relative of Thomas’s? No, of course not. And besides, many of her people had blue eyes.

  She could tell he was watching her as she worked. She suddenly asked, “How do you want your lettuce? I can add extra pieces. And the tomatoes?” What questions. Why had she asked them?

  The man didn’t seem to notice anything strange. He simply replied, “Ach…that’s plenty.”

  “You from around here?” the large man’s wife asked with a smile.

  Susan tried to keep breathing, the warning racing through her brain. Don’t be tricked into speaking their language.

  “I live in Asbury Park for now,” she said. “I’ve been here for a few weeks.”

  “You do know how to make a gut sandwich,” the portly man with the piercing eyes said. The large man next to him was silent, still eyeing the sign above him.

  “I’m glad you think so.” Susan slid the first sandwich across the counter and turned to wrap the others. “We also have drinks. Laura will ring you up.”

  “Yah, a Pepsi is what I want,” the large man said, pushing back his hat.

  “You should drink water, that’s what I say,” his wife said.

  They all laughed.

  “He’s a big one,” piercing eyes said, glancing at Susan again. “We don’t work him hard enough on the farm.”

  “That would be the cabinet shop,” the large one said. “We’re from Lancaster County. We’re spending the day visiting the ocean. Thanks for the sandwiches.”

  They nodded, moving on toward Laura, piercing eyes producing a well-worn billfold from his front pocket. Susan watched out of the corner of her eye. They mustn’t notice her interest, but really there was no way they could even imagine the truth.

  As the two couples paid and then walked away, Laura turned to Susan. “You know those people?”

  “No,” Susan said, her eyes still following them.

  “Nice people, the Amish are,” Laura said, watching Susan’s face. “You look frightened.”

  “I’m not. Really I’m not.” Susan forced a smile, pulling her eyes away from the bonnets bobbing in the distance. She had to get over this. Wasn’t making a clean break from the past part of her plan?

  “You wouldn’t know them from Indiana?”

  “No.” Susan shook her head.

  “I thought they might be from your home community.”<
br />
  “Oh,” Susan laughed, “there are Amish all over the place.” She turned to face an approaching older couple. “Good afternoon! Are you enjoying the festival?” she asked.

  “Everything except the oysters,” the man said as he ran his hand through his hair.

  “He’s not much for oysters,” his wife explained. “Fix him a big, fat roast beef sandwich, if you would. No mustard and no pickles.”

  “Coming right up!” Susan said. “Wheat or white bread?”

  “Make that wheat,” the wife said, reaching up to run her hand over her husband’s cheek. “It’s better for him.”

  “She’s just like that. A real health case of late.” He laughed, his eyes on her face.

  “Well…” the wife said, stroking his cheek again.

  Susan sliced the roast beef, trying not to glance at them. Her mom and dad would never act like that in public.

  “Have you been married long?” she asked, laying a slice of roast beef on the bread. Another dumb question that was, but it just slipped out.

  A broad smile spread across the man’s face. “Longer than you can imagine, dear.”

  “It was fifty years ago, last week,” the wife said, still stroking his cheek absently. “And we just had to come back to Asbury Park to celebrate.”

  “Even with the oysters.” He laughed again.

  “We used to bring the children here for the festival,” the wife said, the words flowing out of her. “They always wanted to see the ocean. All three of them did. Not for swimming mind you, but just seeing the water. That’s why we never came in the summer when everyone else comes. We’d rent rooms for the day, right on the beach, and stay up most of the night listening to the waves rolling in. For farm kids, it was the highlight of their year. We’d walk the boardwalk the next day, buy sandwiches, and little things. We couldn’t afford much in those days, but we did what we could. The trip was expensive enough.”

  “We have a farm well north of Philly,” he said. “Retired now. We rent out the place, and the kids are all gone on to bigger and better things. I guess farming isn’t too profitable, so I can’t blame them.”