A Christmas Bride in Pinecraft (20 page)

Dear Reader,

Last year we went to Denver for Christmas. My son had moved there about six months before and only got Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. So, instead of having Arthur come home for Christmas, we went to him.

Like most people just starting out, his apartment was small. It was also filled with a bunch of our old furniture, skis, plastic bins filled with who-knows-what, and one sixty-five-pound furry white dog named Rudy. Our daughter Lesley opted to sleep on Arthur's floor on an air mattress. Tom and I opted to sleep at a hotel nearby.

To be honest, I have always liked hosting Christmas. I like putting up the tree. I love to bake. I like doing all the little “Christmasy” things that moms like to do for their kids, even when their kids are adults. Because of all that, I didn't exactly have real high expectations for this first Christmas where I wasn't the host. I shouldn't have worried, though. It turns out that our son loved hosting Christmas.

It also turned out that there are several advantages to four people and one furry dog hanging out together in a one-bedroom apartment. We spent lots of time together! We played Scrabble and Clue. Life and Hearts. Somehow, all four of us managed to make a standing rib roast with all the trimmings in a very tiny kitchen. We ate our Christmas meal around an old table with mismatched chairs and mismatched plates and silverware. It was perfect. Afterward, we all settled in and watched old James Bond movies. Rudy chewed on a bone.

Our time together was simple. We didn't do anything all that special. And because of that, I have to admit that it was the nicest Christmas we'd had together in years. It turns out Arthur can host Christmas just fine.

We flew home on the morning of December twenty-sixth. I'd love to say it was an emotional good-bye, but it was hectic. It was snowing, Art was defrosting his car so he could go to work, and Lesley was trying to find something to put on that wasn't covered in white Rudy fur. It was only when we landed back in Cincinnati that I realized that our whirlwind trip was over and we wouldn't likely have another couple of days like that until, well, next Christmas.

Already I can't wait.

Thank you for reading this book. I hope you have a blessed Christmas, whether you're at home or in someone else's. Take time to give thanks, hug those who love you, and glory in the miracle of His birth.

Merry Christmas!

Shelley Shepard Gray

P.S. I love to hear from readers, either on Facebook, through my website, or through the postal system! If you'd care to write and tell me what you thought of the book, please do!

Shelley Shepard Gray

10663 Loveland Madeira Rd. #167

Loveland, OH 45140

1. The book opens with Beverly being devastated by an unexpected event. How do you think she handles it?

2. After Eric reveals more of his past, Beverly is hurt that he'd kept much of it a secret. Who is right? Eric, for being cautious about revealing his past, or Beverly for wishing that he'd trusted her more from the beginning of their relationship?

3. Why do you think Josiah and Effie have become such good friends? How do they need each other?

4. Why do you think it was easier for Eric to ask Beverly's close friends for help than it was for her to reach out to them? Can you think of a situation in your life where it was hard to ask for help when you needed it?

5. What are your first impressions of Mark, Laura, and Peter?

6. One of the novel's themes is accepting and offering help, even when doing either is difficult to do. Can you think of a time when you've either accepted help that you didn't want to accept . . . or when you've offered to help someone without being asked?

7. How does Beverly become stronger during the novel? If you've read the series, how has she changed during the entire series?

8. What do you think will happen to Josiah and Peter?

9. What characters in the series did you connect with the most? Are there any that you would like to read more about?

Golatschen
is the German word for “pastry”

⅔ cup sugar

1 cup butter, softened

½ teaspoon almond extract

2 cups flour

Any flavor jelly

1 cup powdered sugar

⅔teaspoons water

1½ teaspoons almond extract

Preheat oven to 350°F. Cream sugar, butter, and ½ teaspoon of almond extract. Add flour and mix well. Shape into 1-inch balls and place on ungreased cookie sheets. Press thumb in centers and fill with 1 teaspoon jelly. Bake 10 to 12 minutes.

Mix icing ingredients, adding more water until icing is runny. Drizzle over warm cookies.

Taken from
Simply Delicious Amish Cooking
by Sherry Gore. Copyright © 2012 by Sherry Gore. Used by permission of Zondervan.

www.zondervan.com.

Shelley's Top Five Must-See Spots in Pinecraft

H
ONESTLY
, I fell in love with everything about the tiny village of Pinecraft, nestled in the heart of Sarasota and nearby Siesta Key! Here are five places to start your journey:

   
1.
Yoder's Restaurant.
I've been to a lot of Amish restaurants. I've eaten a lot of coconut cream pie at each one. But nothing has compared to this well-known restaurant. The line to get in is always long, usually at least a thirty-minute wait. But the long lines allow everyone to chat and make friends.

   
2.
The Produce Market at Yoder's.
The market next to Yoder's is full of beautiful Florida-fresh produce. We couldn't resist picking up two pints of strawberries and five oranges. Just to snack on—in between servings of pie, of course!

   
3.
Pinecraft Park.
It's the social center of the community! The night we were there, kids were playing basketball, men and women were playing shuffleboard (women have their own lane), and there were at least another forty or fifty people standing around and visiting.

   
4.
The bus parking lot.
Behind the post office is a large parking lot where everyone meets to either board one of the Pioneer Trails buses or to watch who is arriving and leaving.

   
5.
Village Pizza.
It's located right behind Olaf's Creamery. You can order a pie and take it right over to one of the picnic tables outside. The pizza is delicious. Eating pizza outside in the sunshine in February in the Florida sun? Priceless.

Scenes from Pinecraft

Photographs courtesy of Katie Troyer, Sarasota, Florida

The Pioneer Trails bus arrives in Pinecraft.

Siblings and friends at Big Olaf in Pinecraft.

Enjoying a Song Fest at Pinecraft Park.

Playing bocce in Pinecraft Park.

A Sneak Peek from the First Book in Shelley's New Series,
A Charmed Amish Life
A Son's Vow

Coming January 2016 from Avon Inspire

I
T WAS ANOTHER
picture-perfect day in Charm.

The sky was a pale blue, quietly complementing acres of green, vibrant farmland as far as the eye could see. Spring lambs had arrived. They were frolicking in the fields, their eager bleats echoing through the valley. The morning air was not too chilly or too damp. Instead, a hint of warmth teased the air, bringing with it as much hope as the tips of the crocus buds that peeked through the dark dirt filling the numerous clay pots decorating cleanly swept front porches.

It was the type of morning that encouraged a person to go out walking, to smile. The type of day that reminded one and all that God was present and did, indeed, bestow gifts.

In short, it was the type of day that used to give Darletta Kurtz hope. It used to spur her energy, revitalize her. It used to make her want to pull out a pencil and one of her many notebooks and record the images she saw and list activities she wanted to do.

It was the kind of day she used to love and maybe—just maybe—take for granted.

But now, as she rested her elbows on the worn wooden countertop that no doubt generations of postal workers before had rested on, too, Darla only silently acknowledged that another day had come. It was sure to feel as endless as the one before it, and would no doubt be exactly like the rest of the week.

It was another day to get through. A way to pass ten hours of expected productivity before she could retreat to her bedroom and collapse on her bed. Only then would she feel any sense of peace. Because only then would she be able to wait for oblivion. She'd close her eyes, fall into a peaceful slumber, and, hopefully, forget her reality for eight hours.

Until nightfall, however, she had the day to survive.

It was the ninety-ninth day since her father had died. Tomorrow would bring the one hundredth. It was a benchmark she'd never intended to look forward to. Wearily, she wondered if anyone else in Charm was anticipating the milestone as well.

Undoubtedly some were.

After all, her father hadn't been the only man to die in the accident at the Kinsinger Lumber Mill. No, he was one of five. Though she'd never forget, there were many in Charm who took care to remind her of this constantly.

As Mary Weaver pushed open the door and strode forward, Darla braced herself.

“You have a lot of nerve, Darletta Kurtz, getting a job here like you did,” Mary said as she slapped a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “It's bad enough that your family stayed in town, but here you are, thriving.”

Each word hurt, as Mary no doubt intended for it to. Darla thought she would have been used to the verbal abuse by now, but it still felt like a slap in the face.

Just as she did two days before, Darla did her best to keep her voice even and her expression impassive. “What can I get ya?”

“One book of stamps. The flags.”

After opening the thick wooden drawer that had served countless mail workers before her, Darla scanned the UPC code on the stamps and picked up the money. Quickly, she gave Mary the stamps and her change, taking care to set it on the counter so their fingers wouldn't have to touch. “Here you go, Mary.
Danke
for coming in.”

Mary narrowed her eyes. “That's all you're gonna say?”

It was obvious that Mary was itching for a fight. But no way was Darla going to give it to her. She'd learned at least a couple of things in the ninety-nine days since the accident at the mill. It was always best to turn the other cheek. “There's nothing to say. Your mind is made up to be angry with me.”

“My ‘mind' has nothing to do with the facts. Everyone in Charm knows that your father caused the accident at the mill. He killed my Bryan, Clyde Fisher, Paul Beachy, and Stephen Kinsinger.”

“You forgot to add one: John Kurtz, Mary. My father died, too, you know.”

Mary's mouth flattened. “All of us are struggling with our losses. Struggling to make ends meet with our men gone. But here you are almost every morning, standing behind this counter with a smile on your face.”

Though Mary wasn't the first person to say such a thing to her—she wasn't even the twenty-first—Darla still didn't understand why she should bear the weight of her father's guilt.

Especially since it had been proven that while her father's sleeve had gotten caught, and he had jerked and fallen into a stack of timber that had collapsed, he certainly hadn't intended to hurt a single person at the mill. Everyone who'd been there was marked by the terrible tragedy in December. Furthermore, when Stephen Kinsinger's son Lukas took over the mill, he'd publicly forgiven her father.

However, Lukas's speech had done little to change the general feeling of anger and hurt that pervaded their village. Somehow, it seemed that everyone needed someone to blame. And because John Kurtz wasn't there, many people felt his children would have to bear the brunt of the community's hurt and anger.

Now that it had been going on for ninety-nine days, Darla was getting pretty tired of it.

Which was why, even though she would likely not be heard, she stood up a little straighter and glared. “I'm merely doing my job, Mary.”

Blue eyes flashed with anger. “What do you have to say about Aaron? He is still at the mill.”

Clenching her hands, Darla fought to remain still. Her relationship with Aaron was both confusing and difficult. “I canna speak for my
bruder
,” she said quietly.

“Everyone says he is becoming a problem. Men have heard him fault the mill for your father's poor judgment.”

“Any problem Aaron might have at work is between him and Lukas and Levi Kinsinger,” she said, staring directly at Mary and not the customers who'd just entered. “Now, do you need anything else?”

“I do not. You know I only came in here to give you a piece of my mind.”

“And you've done that,” a voice from the back of the room interrupted. It was one that Darla knew well. One that, until very recently, she used to hear on a daily basis.

Mary swerved around. “Lukas!” she exclaimed in a sickly sweet voice. “I didn't hear you come in.”

“I've only been here long enough to hear what you just said to Darla,” Lukas Kinsinger replied. “I must say that I'm shocked to hear you are speaking to her in such a tone.”

As Darla watched, Mary stepped away from the counter and toward Lukas, who was standing with his arms folded over his chest.

“How is your family, Lukas? My Thomas and I have been praying for you and your siblings.”

“I appreciate your prayers, but I would be just as glad to know that you were praying for all the victims' families. Remember, forgiveness is a virtue.”

“So is repentance,” she replied as she looked over at Darla.

When Lukas said nothing, merely stared at her coolly, Mary darted outside.

Feeling his gaze now settle on her, Darla helped the two customers who were holding packages. Then, when the room was empty except for the two of them, she walked around the counter.