Katie's Way

Table of Contents

 

 

“What a joy it is to read Marta Perry's novels!
Leah's Choice
has everything a reader could want—strong, well-defined characters; beautiful, realistic settings; and a thought-provoking plot. Readers of Amish fiction will surely be waiting anxiously for her next book.”

—Shelley Shepard Gray, author of the Sisters of the Heart series

“Sure to appeal to fans of Beverly Lewis.”

—
Library Journal

“Realistic characters . . . [a] strong, original plot.”

—
Romantic Times

“A knowing and careful look into Amish culture and faith. A truly enjoyable reading experience.”

—Angela Hunt, author of
The Fine Art of Insincerity

“A lovely book. Simply lovely.”

—Linda Goodnight, author of
The Christmas Child

“A wonderful book!”

—
Romance Reviews Today

“Takes us into the heart of Amish country and the Pennsylvania Dutch, and shows us the struggles of the Amish community as the outside world continues to clash with the Plain ways. This is a story of grace and servitude as well as a story of difficult choices and heartbreaking realities. It touched my heart. I think the world of Amish fiction has found a new champion.”

—Lenora Worth, author of
The Doctor's Family

“More than just a sweet Amish love story, it is a complex mix of volatile relationships and hard choices. I couldn't put it down. I highly recommend it!”

—Colleen Coble, author of
The Lightkeeper's Ball

“A wonderful start to what is sure to be a very memorable series.”

—
Romance Junkies

 

LEAH'S CHOICE

RACHEL'S GARDEN

ANNA'S RETURN

SARAH'S GIFT

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This is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

 

PUBLISHER'S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

KATIE'S WAY

Copyright © 2011 by Martha Johnson.

Excerpt from
Hannah's Joy
copyright © by Martha Johnson.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

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ISBN : 978-1-101-54569-0

Berkley trade paperback edition / November 2011

 

 

An application to register this book for cataloging has been submitted to the Library of Congress.

 

 

I'd like to express my gratitude to those whose expertise, patience, and generosity helped me in the writing of this book: to Erik Wesner, whose
Amish America
newsletters are enormously helpful in visualizing aspects of daily life; to Donald Kraybill and John Hostetler, whose books are the definitive works on Amish life; to Louise Stoltzfus, Lovina Eicher, and numerous others who've shared what it means to be Amish; to my quilting family and friends; and most of all to my family, for giving me a rich heritage upon which to draw.

F
ast-paced
chatter in Pennsylvania Dutch, followed by a ripple of women's laughter, floated through the archway to Caleb Brand's handmade-furniture shop from what used to be a hardware store next door. Caleb forced himself to focus on the rocking chair he was waxing, trying to ignore the sounds of change.

He didn't like change. This building, with its two connected shops, had been a male enclave for years. Now everything was different, because Bishop Mose had decided to rent the other side to Katie Miller for a quilt shop.

Caleb gritted his teeth and rubbed a little harder, trying to concentrate on the grain of the hickory. Rocking chairs were among his best sellers, and this one had turned out to his satisfaction. He'd never let anything go out of his shop that he wouldn't be happy to have in his own home.

Another peal of female laughter. How many women were over there, anyway, helping to set up for the opening tomorrow? It sounded like half the sisters from the church district.

No reason why Katie Miller, newly komm to Pleasant Valley from Columbia County, shouldn't open a quilt shop. He wished her well. Just not next door to him.

The bell on his own front door jingled, and he looked up. Bishop Mose, his white beard fluttering in the mild May breeze that swept down the main street of the village, ducked into the shop.

“Bishop Mose.” He half rose, showing the bishop that he was behind the counter at the rear of the showroom.

“Ach, Caleb, I thought you'd be tucked away upstairs in your workshop at this hour.” The bishop, his years seeming to sit lightly on him, wound his way through the handmade wooden furniture that filled the room.

“Nobody's here to help out today, so I have to mind the shop.” Caleb put the lid on the furniture wax, tapping it down tight. “Can I do something for you?”

“Ach, no.” The bishop's blue eyes, wise with a lifetime of service to the Amish of Pleasant Valley, crinkled a little. “Chust thought I should see for myself how you're dealing with your new neighbor.”

Caleb glanced down at the rocker to avoid meeting the bishop's gaze. “Fine. Everything's fine, I think.”

He didn't understand why Bishop Mose had seen fit to install a quilt shop next to him, but he wouldn't complain. He'd never forget that when it seemed every person in the valley had turned against him, Bishop Mose had accepted his word.

It was eight years since then, and Caleb supposed folks still talked about him and Mattie, though not in his presence. But thanks to Bishop Mose, he still had his place here.

In the brief silence between them, the sound of women's voices came through clearly, talking about how best to display some quilts, it seemed.

“That's gut,” Bishop Mose said. “I thought maybe it would be a bother to you, having a quilt shop next door instead of a hardware store.”

Absently, Caleb caressed a curved spindle of the rocker, the wood warm and smooth under his hand. Could he drop a hint in the bishop's ear?

“Well, I did think a hardware store was a better fit with my shop.” He said the words as cautiously as if he were walking on eggs. “We shared more of the same customers, ain't so?”

“You don't think the folks who buy Katie's quilts will be interested in your fine rocking chairs and chests?” Bishop Mose lifted white eyebrows.

Another burst of laughter scraped at Caleb's nerves. “No. I don't think a bunch of quilting women are likely to want what—”

He stopped—a little too late, it seemed. Katie Miller stood in the archway, and he didn't doubt she'd heard his words. He cleared his throat, trying to think what to say, but she beat him to it.

“Ach, Bishop Mose, I thought I heard your voice.” The warm smile she directed toward the bishop probably didn't include Caleb. “Would you like to see what we've done with the shop?”

“We would like nothing better.” He reached across the counter to clap Caleb's shoulder. “Komm, Caleb. We'll have a look at your new neighbor's shop, ain't so?”

Caleb hesitated, glancing at Katie. Her blue eyes were guarded, it seemed to him, and her strong jaw set. Katie Miller looked like a determined woman, one bent on doing things her way.

Which was maybe how she'd reached her midtwenties without marrying, an unusual situation for an Amish woman. And at the moment her way most likely didn't include showing him her shop.

But in the next instant her expression had melted into a smile. She smoothed back a strand of light brown hair under the white kapp on the back of her head and nodded. “Komm. I'd like fine to show you what we've done.”

With the bishop's hand on his shoulder Caleb couldn't very well pull away. He walked through the archway, feeling as if he were moving into a foreign land.

It looked that way, too. Harvey Schmidt's barrels of nails and coils of wire were long gone, of course. The shop had been stripped down to the bare shelves during Harvey's closing sale. But now—