Authors: Mindy Starns Clark
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota
Cover photos Â© Chris Garborg; Bigstock / DWStock
The authors are represented by MacGregor Literary, Inc.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The quote by William Andrews before part one is from an article titled “The Shadow Knows” by Dava Sobel, dated January 2007, and can be found at this link:
THE AMISH CLOCKMAKER
Copyright Â© 2015 by Mindy Starns Clark and Susan Meissner
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
ISBN 978-0-7369-5738-0 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-5739-7 (eBook)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Clark, Mindy Starns.
The Amish clockmaker / Mindy Starns Clark and Susan Meissner.
pages ; cm.â(Men of Lancaster County ; book 3) 1. AmishâFiction. I. Meissner, Susan, 1961- II. Title.
All rights reserved.
In loving memory of
1970 â 2013.
sister in Christ
missed beyond all measure.
Thanks so much toâ¦
Everyone at Harvest House Publishers, in particular our wonderful editor and friend, Kim Moore.
Chip MacGregor, our literary agent, who brought about this collaboration.
John Clark, loving husband to Mindy and her number one story consultant/idea man/information resource.
Emily Clark, whose talent and dedication helped make this book a reality.
Rich Scannell, Ned Scannell, and Isaac and Lorraine Kauffman, for patiently answering our numerous questions.
The Riehl, Fisher, and Stoltzfus families of Lancaster County, for sharing your knowledge and your homes and businesses with us.
Lauren Clark and Tara Kenny, for being so helpful throughout the process.
To be a clockmaker is to work not just for yourself or your client, but also for someone else far in the future, someone who knows enough to judge your work and who will look at something you've made someday andâyou hopeâsay, “That was done right.”
William Andrewes, Curator
Harvard University Collection of Historical Scientific Instruments
tanding at the edge of the grassy lot, I squinted my eyes in the predawn darkness and envisioned the future. Construction hadn't even started yet, but I had pictured this place so many times in my mind that it was nearly real to me already, from the sweep of the roofline to the span of the side walls to the stretch of the covered walkway that would connect it to the barn. Once completed, the remodeled building wouldn't be fancy or showy, but it would be bigâtwice as big, in fact, as what we had now.
The expansion of Zook's Feed and Tack, my family's store, was set to begin in just two hours, not a minute too soon as far as I was concerned. My parents didn't exactly see it that way, but in the end it had been my decision. They would come around eventuallyâat least I hoped they wouldâbut I didn't have time to wait. If I was going to save this company, I had to keep things moving forward. God had blessed us with some exciting opportunities, but taking advantage of them meant first doubling our space and our inventory.
God willing, we'd end up doubling our revenue as well.
Such a thought should have left me feeling excited and eager to get started. Instead, my emotions were mixed. On the one hand, I was thrilled to be breaking ground today and confident this expansion was the right move for us to take. On the other hand, I was frustrated with my father, with how he could notâ
notâunderstand or embrace my vision. He and I had
always gotten on so well, and he was a kind and godly man, but this situation had created a rift between us I feared we'd never be able to mend.
To make matters worse, a deep ache of loss had been rising up inside of me for days. That feeling came from the knowledge that my beloved grandfatherâmy kindred spirit in so many waysâwasn't here to share in this day with me. At least
had been in on the early planning, I told myself as I began walking across the dewy grass. He'd known and approved of my intentions before he diedâand that was some consolation.
Then again, he had passed away more than three months ago, before the final plans were drawn up, before the crew was hired, before we were even certain we'd be able to pull this off. Now that it was finally happening, I missed him with an intensity that hadn't felt so piercing since the day of his funeral.
I came to a stop at the center of the scruffy, unused piece of land that stretched out beside and behind the current building and would be the site of today's construction. The last thing added to our property was a little cottage up by the house that had been put in a few years ago, when one of my older brothers was getting married. Amanda and I were living there now, but ultimately it would become my parents' home, their
, and Amanda and I would shift over to the main house.
This homestead sat on a hill, low at the front and higher at the back. Heading up our driveway, which ran along the right side of the property, one would encounter first the parking lot, then the tack store, the feed store, a horse barn, the main house, the cottage, and a small fenced-in field out back. At five acres total, this place wasn't big enough to call a farm, though we did own two horses and enough pastureland to keep them fed. Beyond that, we lived more like city folk than our friends and fellow church members, many of whom were farmers.