Made with Love
Authors: Tricia Goyer
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota
Cover illustrations © Marvid, thailerderden10 / Bigstock
Published in association with the Books & Such Management, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370,
www.booksandsuch.com
.
Published in association with the literary agency of The Steve Laube Agency, LLC, 5025 N. Central Ave., #635, Phoenix, Arizona, 85012.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously.
MADE WITH LOVE
Copyright © 2015 Tricia Goyer and Sherry Gore
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
ISBN 978-0-7369-6129-5 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-6130-1 (eBook)
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.
To Jacinda Gore, Warrior Princess
Your beauty and grace inspired many. Looking forward to heaven's family reunion.
Contents
Connect with Tricia Goyer and Sherry Gore online!
Hand-Breaded Pork Chops and Creamy Country Gravy
Noah's Mem's Skillet Pear Ginger Pie
Upside-Down Cinnamon Pudding Cake
Yoder's Restaurant Chicken Stuffing Casserole
Keep your words soft and sweet in case you have to eat them.
A
MISH
P
ROVERB
August 15
L
ovina Miller opened the refrigerator and slipped her mixing bowl and pie crust ingredients inside to chill. Mem had taught her that to get the best results one had to put in one's best efforts. Mem had also told her, more than once, to get her mind out of the kitchen and be sociable for a change. It wasn't as if Lovina didn't enjoy attending the volleyball games and the church events where bachelors could be foundâ¦it was just that she had her mind on other things. On a pie shop. Of her own.
The kitchen window was open. A breeze blew in, ruffling the red and white checkered curtainsâone of the few things that had moved with them from Ohio to Pinecraft, Florida.
The breeze wasn't hot and sticky like most mornings this time of year, and she was thankful. Instead, the southerly wind carried in salty air and the scent of flowers. It smelled of rain too. And maybe of promise? Lovina liked to think so.
She closed the refrigerator door and looked at the six empty glass pie plates on the counter ready to be filled with crusts.
Making the crusts was her favorite part, and filling them was a close second. But today they'd have to wait. She had an important assignment. Something inside her said not to dawdle. Could it be the Spirit of God that her grandma used to talk about? Did He really place dreams in the hearts of men and women like Grandma always said? Lovina would do anything to know. It would help her make sense of her inner urgency. The urgency telling her that today baking pies could wait.
The street outside their house was empty except for a gray stray cat that strolled just beyond their white picket fence, striding as if she owned the place.
Pinecraft was a favorite vacation destination for Amish and Mennonites during the winter. In August it was nearly empty except for the hundred or so full-time residents. There was no way Lovina could have a pie shop open by Thanksgiving when the first tourist buses rolled into town, was there? Her mind told her no, but something in her heart told her she needed to keep praying, keep looking, keep dreaming.
A shuffling sounded behind Lovina. One of her sisters was also awake. The loud yawn told her it was Hope.
Lovina turned to see her sister in Amish dress and kapp, with her hair mostly tucked in. Hope was always in too great a hurry to get outdoors to worry about spending time smoothing down her unruly strawberry blonde hair. Much to Mem's chagrin. This morning a few strands of fine, reddish blonde hair slipped from the bobby pins under her kapp and framed her face.
Hope moved to the window over the stainless steel sink, closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Oh, Lovina, do you smell the gardenias this morning? They are lovely.”
Lovina sniffed the air again. “Is that the flowery scent on the breeze?”
“Ja.” Hope chuckled. “Those small white flowers on the bush with the dark green leaves are gardeniasâ¦like the name of our street.”
Lovina nodded. “It is lovely, but not quite as good as the aroma of a pie fresh from the oven.”
Hope tucked a strand of hair back into her kapp and took out a paper bag, packing a sandwich she'd made the night before and some fruit for her outing. She shrugged. “To each her own.”
Lovina's mind turned back to the crusts. She'd been craving lemon meringue for a while, and Dat always enjoyed cherry. She opened the door to the small pantry and pulled out a jar of cherry filling. She tried not to compare the pantry to the cellar back in Ohio. She could nearly get lost among all the bins and shelves of jars as a girl. She brushed the top of the jar with her finger, brushing away the dust.
