Her Amish Child

Whosoever shall receive one of such children in my name, receiveth me: and whosoever shall receive me, receiveth not me, but him that sent me.

—Mark 9:37

To one of my favorite readers, Patsy Thompson. Thank you, Miss Patsy, for your encouraging letters and for your continued prayers!

Contents

Cover (#u67f84311-e3e5-5c81-8c82-3bece5b9cd9a)

Back Cover Text (#u74f72687-a407-5f25-96ee-e783245f19d2)

About the Author (#u794c0f00-469a-50a7-824d-500ed8c87494)

Booklist (#u55603394-976b-5bc5-84bc-85b28ad682dd)

Title Page (#ue55f890a-0879-5eb8-9c2b-83f0ccc97592)

Copyright (#uef673a6b-142b-569d-b176-dc9f0f042e43)

Introduction (#u7a00b07a-d7f8-5a9e-8f73-89c39abbbd24)

Dear Reader (#u059d8486-316c-5563-a5f9-b750ccf12215)

Bible Verse (#ubd6ff377-c37e-516f-b4c5-ec7f32212d70)

Dedication (#u32f18fde-f8ce-5b0e-8c46-a344b0be6f9e)

Chapter One (#u10be459f-35aa-5437-a6f5-5e4612f3863d)

Chapter Two (#uaa7e20f3-5ad5-573b-9c7a-12566d9b940b)

Chapter Three (#u74cf583c-e7b4-5103-8242-d554bbef6685)

Chapter Four (#uc30043a0-9bd3-5048-9adf-01d0613bba7c)

Chapter Five (#u2c18b02b-12fe-537e-bccd-119d0e9adb8a)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#u7b612a99-7ae3-5462-bb92-9cede9c2eed1)

The gloaming sparkled in a brilliant gold-washed shimmer that covered the sloping valley and glistened through the trees.

Raesha Bawell took a moment to stare out at the end of the day, a sweet Friday in late summer, and sighed with contentment.

It had taken her a long time to reach such contentment.

Even now, with the soft breath of fall hinting in the wind, she still missed her husband, Aaron. Her heart twitched as if it had been pierced but the piercing was now dull and swift.

She’d had to watch him die. How could a woman ever get over that kind of torment? Cancer, the doctors at the big clinic had told them. Too late for surgery or treatments.

Too late for children and laughter, for growing old together, for taking long walks on nights such as this.

Too late.

But never too late to remember joy. She sometimes felt guilty when joy came to her, but tonight she studied the trees and the big creek that moved through the heart of this community. Tonight, she thanked the Lord that she had her mother-in-law, Naomi, to guide her and keep her grounded.

Naomi had been a widow for several years so she knew the pain of losing a dear loved one. Knew it well since she’d also lost two infants at birth. Aaron had been her pride and joy.

But now, Naomi and Raesha had each other.

They worked side by side each day, but Raesha spent a lot of time in the long rectangular building around back of the main house. The Bawell Hat Shop had become more than just hats. They quilted and sewed, canned and cooked, laughed and giggled, and held frolics for their friends almost every month. They had loyal customers, both Amish and Englisch. They’d taken to making not only men’s hats, both felt and straw, and bonnets for Amish women and girls, but Easter hats and frilly scarves and caps for tourists, too.

“You don’t need to stay here with me,” Naomi always said. “You are young and full of life. You should get married again.”

“I am content,” Raesha would always reply.