Love Redeemed
Authors: Kelly Irvin
The Bliss Creek Amish
To Love and to Cherish
A Heart Made New
Love's Journey Home
The New Hope Amish
Love Still Stands
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version
®
, NIV
®
. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011, by Biblica, Inc.⢠Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.
www.zondervan.com
Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota
Cover photos © Chris Garborg; Bigstock / Copestello
LOVE REDEEMED
Copyright © 2014 by Kelly Irvin
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Irvin, Kelly.
Love redeemed / Kelly Irvin.
pages cm. â (The New Hope Amish ; Book 2)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5495-2 (pbk)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5496-9 (eBook)
1. AmishâFiction. 2. Life change eventsâFiction. I. Title.
PS3609.R82L65 2013
813'.6âdc23
2013012860
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 meansâelectronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any otherâwithout 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.
For my brother, Larry Lyne, Jr. May you rest in blessed peace.
And for my parents, Larry Sr. and Janice Lyne, who learned to go on.
Contents
The Original New Hope Families
P
hoebe and Michael's story wasn't an easy one to write, even though the words came more quickly than any novel I've ever written. My biggest fear is that I didn't do their story justice. I dedicate this book to my brother, Larry (always known as Little Larry to distinguish him from our dad, Big Larry). Little Larry died in a boating accident at the age of thirty in 1991. A big guy, well over six feet tall, he loved to fish and hunt deer and tell jokes. He loved his wife, Jana, and his daughter, Holly, who was five at the time. He didn't get a lot of breaks in his short life, but he always remained a good guy. As adults, our life journeys took us on very different paths and we didn't see each other much, but he remains a part of my life to this day.
I was eight months pregnant with my son when I received the news of Larry's death a thousand miles from my South Texas home. I always know exactly how long it's been since he left us as I celebrate my son's birthday each year. I hope my parents will understand how much their ability to accept and learn to go on affects the words on these pages. I also hope this story honors all parents who have lost children far too soon.
A special thanks to my editor, Kathleen Kerr, who took time from her busy schedule more than once to read early drafts and assure me everything would be fine. I believe her exact words were “Dude, stop panicking!” Thank you, Kathleen, for your abundance of patience and kind words.
As always, thanks to my husband, Tim, for his unfailing support and to my children, Erin and Nicholas, for simply being who they are. Love always.
Â
Who is a God like you,
who pardons sin and forgives the transgression
of the remnant of his inheritance?
You do not stay angry forever
but delight to show mercy.
You will again have compassion on us;
you will tread our sins underfoot
and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea.
M
ICAH
7:18-19
The Original New Hope Families
Luke & Leah
Shirack
William
Joseph
Esther & Martha (twins)
Jebediah
Hazel
Elijah & Bethel
Christner
Silas & Katie
Christner
Jesse
Simon
Martin
Phoebe
Elam
Hannah
Lydia
Sarah
Ida Weaver (Katie's sister)
Thomas & Emma
Brennaman
Eli
Rebecca
Caleb
Lilah
Mary & Lillie Shirack (Emma's sisters)
Tobias & Edna
Daugherty
Jacob
Michael
Ephraim
Nathaniel
Margaret
Isabel
Aaron & Mary
Troyer
Matthew
Molly
Reuben
Abraham & Alexander (twins)
Ella
Laura
Benjamin & Irene
Knepp
Hiram
Daniel
Adah
Melinda
Abram
Joanna
Jonathan
Peter & Cynthia
Daugherty
Rufus
Enos
Deborah
Rachel
John
Mark
Phillip
Ruth
Naomi
P
hoebe Christner longed for water. Sweet, cool water. The kind that soothed a parched throat. She should be concentrating on living water, but the blazing August heat made it almost impossible. Who had the bright idea of holding baptism classes outside in hundred-degree weather? Probably her
daed
. As if the searing heat would make the scholars more likely to choose the church and eternal salvation. She hid a smile behind her damp palm and then swiped at the sweat trickling down her forehead with the back of her sleeve.
The sound of hymns sung by the other members of her community wafted from her family's barn, a slow, steady hum that threatened to lull her to sleep. She jerked upright on the hard wooden bench. No sleeping in class. The humid air hung heavy on her shoulders, making her dress sodden under her arms. She strained to feel a tiny breeze, a hint of fresh air to dissipate the rank smell of manure and horse that hung over the corral. Her stomach rumbled like a train, threatening to drown out the sound of the blue jays chattering in the oak trees that shaded their small class.
The heat of embarrassment rolled over her, compounding her discomfort. She hazarded a glance at Michael Daugherty. He sat back straight, arms folded over his chest, on the bench across from her, next to his best friend Daniel Knepp. She tried her best not to stare, but Michael's dark blue eyes, full lips, and the hint of dimples rarely seen
but surely there made it hard to look away. His gaze sideswiped hers. The skin of his tanned face grew darker. He ducked his head.
Now she'd embarrassed him too. Her face as warm as the sun that beat on them, Phoebe wiggled in her seat and leaned over to brush away a piece of dry grass from her dusty prayer service shoe. Michael's cousin Rachel elbowed her and gave her the look. The look that said
Stop it now before it's too late
. Molly Troyer, sitting at her right side, coughed into her hand, a soft, warning cough. They'd all been friends since before Phoebe could remember. They knew how easy it was for her to get off track.
Too late.
“Phoebe, are you sitting on a pile of ants, by any chance?” Despite his words, Thomas Brennaman didn't sound angry. Phoebe so wanted to possess the deacon's unending well of patience. Instead, she flitted from one thing to the next, like a hummingbird. “Forget those flights of fancy and concentrate. Baptism is one of the most important and sacred acts in your life.”
Mortified, she cast a swift glance in Michael's direction. A touch of somethingâsympathy maybeâsoftened his gaze. He shook his head slightly, as if to ask,
What's going on with you?
He had no idea how hard she tried. He so rarely talked to her beyond a few mumbled words of greeting at the singings or a congratulatory whoop when she got a hit at the baseball games they'd played outside the schoolhouse in the old days. In fact, he seemed to go to great lengths to avoid talking to her. To be fair, he wasn't much of a talker with anyone. If only he could make an exception with her.
“Phoebe, do you have corn cobs in your ears?” Now Thomas did sound aggravated. “Hello?”
Daydreaming again. Her face burned. “I'm sorry. It's so warm today. And I didn't have time to eat breakfast this morning.” She flapped both hands in front of her face, trying to create a breeze. “Now it's hard to concentrate because I'm so hungry. The lesson and three hours of serviceâwell, it's a long time until we eat.”
“You always have an excuse. We've been through a half dozen lessons this summer, and you're still offering excuses. You're not a child
anymore.” Thomas's thick eyebrows waggled over a new pair of gold-rimmed spectacles that made him look like her daed when he sat down to read
The Budget
newspaper in the evening. “After you join the church, you'll be considered an adult.
If
you finish these classes. You can't burn the candle at both ends⦔
He let the sentence trail off, but his gaze wandered to the others in this group, all young, all at the tail end of their
rumspringas
. The older folks turned a blind eye to the shenanigans that went on during this period of running around, but sometimes it was hard to miss. The late hours, the
schinckt
of cigarette smoke lingering in clothes, a necklace one of them forgot to remove. Phoebe tried never to flaunt her forays into the
Englisch
world in her parents' faces, but she knew they cringed at her late hours and unexpected absences. This morning she'd overslept and only arrived downstairs in time to clean the kitchen. She couldn't expect to eat if she didn't help prepare the meal.