The Beekeeper's Son (The Amish of Bee County Book 1)

ACCLAIM FOR
THE BEEKEEPER’S SON

“Kelly Irvin’s
The Beekeeper’s Son
is a beautiful story of faith, hope, and second chances. Her characters are so real that they feel like old friends. Once you open the book, you won’t put it down until you’ve reached the last page.”

—A
MY
C
LIPSTON
,
BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF
A G
IFT OF
G
RACE

“
The Beekeeper’s Son
is a perfect depiction of how God makes all things beautiful in His way. Rich with vivid descriptions and characters you can immediately relate to, Kelly Irvin’s book is a must read for Amish fans.”

—R
UTH
R
EID
,
BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF
A M
IRACLE OF
H
OPE

“Kelly Irvin writes a moving tale that is sure to delight all fans of Amish fiction. Highly recommended.”

—K
ATHLEEN
F
ULLER
,
AUTHOR OF THE
H
EARTS OF
M
IDDLEFIELD AND
M
IDDLEFIELD
F
AMILY NOVELS

ZONDERVAN

The Beekeeper’s Son
Copyright © 2014 by Kelly Irvin

ePub Edition © January 2015: ISBN 978-0-310-33958-8

Requests for information should be addressed to:
Zondervan,
Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Irvin, Kelly.

The beekeeper’s son / Kelly Irvin.

pages ; cm -- (The Amish of Bee County)

ISBN 978-0-310-33945-8 (softcover)

1. Young women--Fiction. 2. Beekeepers--Fiction. I. Title.

PS3609.R82B44 2015

813’.6--dc23

2014028959

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible,
New International Version
^®
,
NIV
^®
. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

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, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 / RRD / 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For Tim, Nicholas, Erin, Shawn, and now, little
Brooklyn Jane. Love always to my Lone Star family.

CONTENTS

DEUTSCH VOCABULARY

FEATURED BEE COUNTY AMISH FAMILIES

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

EPILOGUE

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

DEUTSCH
VOCABULARY
*

aenti
: aunt

bopli
: baby

bruder
: brother

daed
: father

danki
: thank you

dawdi haus
: grandparents’ retirement house

dochder
: daughter

Englischer
: English or non-Amish

fraa
: wife

gmay
: church district meeting

Gott
: God

groossdaadi
: grandpa

groossmammi
: grandma

guder mariye
: good morning

gut
: good

hund
: dog

jah
: yes

kaffi
: coffee

kapp
: prayer covering or cap

kinner
: children

lieb
: love

mann
: husband

mudder
: mother

nee
: no

onkel
: uncle

Ordnung
: an Amish district’s set of written and unwritten rules

rumspringa
: period of running around

schtinkich
: stinks, smelly

schweschder
: sister

suh
: son

*
The German dialect spoken by the Amish is not a written language and varies depending on the location and origin of the settlement. These spellings are approximations. Most Amish children learn English after they start school.

FEATURED BEE COUNTY
AMISH FAMILIES

Abigail Lantz (widow)

Deborah

Leila

Rebekah

Caleb

Hazel

Stephen Stetler (bachelor)

Mordecai King (widower)

Abram (and wife, Theresa)

Phineas

Esther

Samuel

Jacob

Susan King (Mordecai’s sister)

John (Abigail’s brother) and Eve Mast

Obadiah

Rufus

Joshua

Frannie

Hannah

Rachel

Leroy (bishop) and Naomi Glick

Adam

Jesse

Joseph

Simon

Sally

Mary

Elizabeth

Solomon Glick (Leroy’s father)

Andrew and Sadie Glick

Ruth Anne

Will

Patty

Henry

Catherine

Nehemiah

ONE

Getting lost might be a sign.

Deborah Lantz wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve to hide her grim smile. Getting lost might be a sign
Mudder
shouldn’t marry a man she couldn’t really claim to know—not in recent years, anyway. Abigail Lantz would call such a thought pure silliness and she would be right. Why would God send them nine hundred miles away from their home in Tennessee only to give them a nudge in the wrong direction so they ended up lost deep in south Texas?

Not likely. God had a plan for the Lantz family. Deborah need only be patient. At least that was what she’d been told hundreds of times.

As if it were an easy task.

Deborah wiggled, trying to get more comfortable between Hazel’s booster seat and Rebekah, who had her nose pressed to the van window, not wanting to miss a single thing, even after watching the same monotonous, flat countryside for hours. Deborah longed to feel the excitement of her younger sisters. At nineteen, she was old enough to know what she’d be missing
back home. All the singings with her friends, the buggy rides with Aaron afterward, the frolics. She would miss the chance to become Aaron’s
fraa
and mudder of his children.

All the things she’d ever wanted.

Wrinkling her nose at the scent of sweat and warm feet, she leaned toward the window to watch the barren countryside now that their driver, Bert Richards, had slowed down as much as he dared on a highway where the speed limit signs read seventy-five miles per hour.

“There! There it is.” Despite being only ten years old, her brother, Caleb, served as an able map reader. He pointed with one finger and clutched the map with his other hand. “Tynan, County Road 796. Turn there. Turn there.”

“Got it.” Bert whipped the steering wheel to the left. The force of the turn sent them all listing in the same direction. Hazel crowed with laughter and clapped her chubby hands. Bert hazarded a glance back, his forehead wrinkled above bushy eyebrows only partially hidden by thick, black-rimmed glasses. “Sorry about that. I didn’t want to miss the turn a second time. Is George still behind us?”

Deborah scooped up her notebook from where it had lodged against the van door and turned to peer through the back window. The van that carried their bags of clothes and the boxes of household goods still followed at a steady pace. “
Jah.
Yes, he’s still behind us.” Her tone sounded tart in her ears. She worked to soften it. “George is a good driver.”

Too good. Maybe a second or third wrong turn and they could wheel around and go home.

Deborah hugged her notebook to her chest, thinking of the two letters she’d begun. One to Josie, her best friend, and one to
Aaron, who’d been well on his way to being her special friend. If only she could write to them and say it was all a big mistake and they were coming home. Then she could erase the look on Aaron’s face as he watched her get in the van and wave until she couldn’t see him anymore.

One more turn. One more turn and she would meet her future.

“Gaitan Road,” Bert sang out as he made a sharp right turn at a corner that featured a yellow sign that read S
UPPORT
B
EEVILLE
B
EES
. B
UY
L
OCAL
H
ONEY
. “We did it. We’re here.”

“Indeed we are.” Mudder clapped her hands, her face lighted with a smile. The weariness of the trip dropped away, and Deborah saw an Abigail Lantz she hadn’t seen in a long time—not since
Daed’s
death more than two years ago. “We made it. Praise
Gott.
”

Praise Gott. Deborah hoped Mudder wouldn’t read her face. If coming to Bee County made her mother happy, then Deborah would make the best of it.

Make the best of it.
That was what Daed would’ve said.

Whatever
it
was.

Even if
it
involved leaving behind the only home they’d ever known and all their friends and most of their family because Mudder wanted to marry an old beau who’d stepped aside long ago when she married Daed.

The van rocked to a stop in front of a long, dirty white building with rusted siding and a tin roof. The sign out front read C
OMBINATION
S
TORE
. A broken-down black buggy sat in front of it as if someone had parked it there and left it to waste away until it collapsed and disappeared into the earth.

“Come on, come on, don’t just sit there. Let’s get out.” Mudder slid open the door. “Stephen will be waiting.”

“He’s waited this long . . .” Deborah bit back the rest of the sentence. Mudder did what she thought was best. Deborah had no business questioning. “Are you sure he’s meeting us?”

“I told him we were dividing the trip into two days so we would arrive middle of the afternoon today.”

Deborah slipped from the van, glad to stand on solid ground. Dirt puffed up around her bare feet, then settled on her toes, turning them brown. If it was this dry in early June, what would it be like in August? A desert? Grasshoppers shot in all directions. Two landed on her apron. She brushed them away, more interested in the deafening sound in the air like a buzz saw cutting lumber. She’d never heard such a ruckus. The smell of manure mixed with cut hay hung in air heavy with humidity. She glanced back at Leila, who climbed down with more grace. She had the same bewildered look on her face as Rebekah. “What is that noise?”

“Cicadas, I reckon.” Rebekah shrugged. “Leastways, that’s what I’m thinking. Caleb was reading about them in his books.”