Amish Christmas Hideaway

Nathan’s breath caught. That old stump wouldn’t last much longer.

“On three,” he said. “One, two...three.”

He tugged her up and out and then pulled her away from the now-shaking car. With a groan, the car’s front right fender scraped against the rock before sliding over the edge of the ravine and crashing down below.

The sound of metal breaking apart echoed out over the hills.

“Are you all right?”

Alisha let out a long, shuddering sigh. “I could have died if you hadn’t come along...”

Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?

—Psalm 2:1

To all of the friends I’ve made while writing Amish fiction. Thank you to our loyal readers!

Contents

Cover (#u28f978e1-ffe2-56ea-91cc-5616432001c8)

Back Cover Text (#ucc4e3959-4c07-5cae-8c6a-066ff3171b8f)

About the Author (#u8dba1fb4-75e8-5534-8ef2-f6305bb7bb98)

Booklist (#u17fc1afd-1153-5e7e-9c90-6c6667a863f8)

Title Page (#u875715cc-79b4-56c2-abef-b282371f898b)

Copyright (#u0e63804e-298c-5763-9395-d1640b463806)

Note to Readers

Introduction (#u742a9285-751c-51ab-b4c0-536a1fe525af)

Bible Verse (#ud0128bf6-9c1f-535a-aa90-00aed44a9fce)

Dedication (#ufc6c01c2-ce44-5248-8cd7-e20c7c1403fc)

ONE (#u98fe6c97-6157-5a4c-a47e-92f336ca61a3)

TWO (#ubfe5c810-11c1-5a21-901b-7681c538b75b)

THREE (#u3e008f05-e9f1-5e58-bf7b-41be273cf050)

FOUR (#u2410998a-8f17-5c11-9112-e61ef189c2b0)

FIVE (#udda0600c-3d9c-5614-8723-304a909edbdb)

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THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

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EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

ONE (#uda613ac7-f9c6-5b42-8ed0-6a1cc5fc147d)

She’d stopped here on a whim. Tired from a lengthy deposition in Philadelphia, Alisha Braxton planned to find a strong cup of coffee. She needed to stay awake to drive the two hours from the city to the small community of Campton Creek in Lancaster County to celebrate Christmas with her grandmother Bettye Willis.

This quaint Christmas market on the outskirts of Philadelphia beckoned her with the promise of something warm to drink and maybe something wonderful to nibble on while she traveled. Too busy to shop for gifts before now, she decided she’d do a quick browse and buy her grandmother something special. And maybe Mrs. Campton, too.

The two elderly women lived together in the carriage house at the Campton estate, now called the Campton Center. Alisha did several hours a week of pro bono work at the center. It was a good chance to visit with her grandmother and help out the community.

But this week she wouldn’t be working as much. A whole week with Granny—a gift from her firm. Five days before Christmas. Her boss had insisted and, as much as she loved her career as an associate with the law firm of Henderson and Perry, Alisha needed a break.

She looked forward to spending the upcoming holidays there with her grandmother, who’d been Judy Campton’s assistant for years and now her companion since they were both widowed. A week off and then she’d get back to her paying hours at the small law firm near Reading where she’d worked since law school. The firm was a satellite branch connected to the main firm in Philadelphia. Alisha hoped to work at the big firm one day, but for now she was paying her dues and working her way up the firm’s ladder.

Taking in the bright lights lining the marketplace that had once been a town square on the outskirts of Philadelphia, Alisha pulled her small blue sedan into what looked like the last available parking place. A couple strolled by together, holding hands and laughing, packages hanging from their arms. The man smiled down at the woman then tugged at her long dark hair.