Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Barbara Cameron has a heart for writing about the spiritual values and simple joys of the Amish. She is the best-selling author of more than 40 fiction and nonfiction books, three nationally televised movies, and the winner of the first Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award. Her books have been nominated for Carol Awards and the Inspirational Reader s Choice Award from RWA s Faith, Hope, and Love chapter. Barbara resides in Jacksonville, Florida.

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A Time to Heal - Quilts of Lancaster County Series #2

Abingdon Press

Chapter One

They couldn't keep him caged up any more. He took a deep breath of the summer air, warm and fragrant with the scents of earth and the crops growing in the fields on each side of the road.

A man could get to feeling dead inside living in the place he'd been, trapped in a prison of despair and pain, shut away from the rest of the world. He'd gotten out and he would never go back.

He had enough scars to last a lifetime.

His surroundings were so different from the small rural town in Kansas where he'd grown up. But there was a similar feel to this landscape with the crops ripening in the fields and, most of all, the huge barns that cast shadows over neat farmhouses, as if asserting their importance. Work came first.

The old-time farm equipment looked weird. Modern-day efficiency ruled the fields back home. And the buggies—well, they were the biggest surprise. He knew the Amish drove buggies. He'd seen photos. But the reality made him feel as if he'd stepped back in time, not just stepped out of the prison he'd been in for so long.

Dusk began falling as his military boots marched toward their goal. He set his backpack down and pulled a wrinkled map from his pocket, studying it for the hundredth time. Excitement quickened his step even though he felt exhausted and hungry. She wouldn't be expecting him. Might not even appreciate the surprise. But he'd felt compelled to come here. It might mean trouble, but he'd never backed down from a problem before.

He heard the sound of horse hooves clip-clopping behind him, interrupting his thoughts.

"Need a ride there, sohn?"

He turned and looked up into the friendly face of an Amish man whose grizzled beard blew in the cooling late summer breeze.

"No, thanks," he said. "I don't have much farther to go."

He watched as the Amish man nodded and called to his horse, and the buggy moved on down the road.

Forced to rest a short while later, he ate the jerky strips and apple he'd bought at a convenience store earlier. A meager meal but he'd had worse—sometimes none at all. The ability to enjoy God's country outside made it a banquet.

He pitched the apple core into the nearby cornfield. It'd make a meal for some mouse or other tiny animal. He tucked the jerky package into his backpack and stood. Pain shot through his knee. He winced and then worked out the kinks before he tried walking.

Not far now. The farmhouse perched on a small hill ahead. He recognized it without even looking at the number on the mailbox. She'd described it so well.

He didn't know if he'd get a welcome. After all, they hadn't met under the best of conditions. Perhaps he should have written and asked if he could come visit. But he hadn't wanted to know she didn't want him to. If she refused to see him, he'd find a place and see for himself what she'd talked about.

But as he looked around him, as he breathed the air of freedom and walked alone and unfettered, he knew that he'd found what he'd been searching for all these years.

Paradise.

* * *

Hannah stepped out of the buggy, reached back inside to lift the covered tray, and smiled. She couldn't believe they'd be celebrating Joshua's birthday again. Time seemed to fly by. Parents often said that. She hadn't believed them before now. But Joshua was eight already.

Balancing the tray on her hip, she opened the door to the schoolhouse and stepped inside. Joshua turned and waved before he resumed working with another scholar. Several other children smiled and waved shyly but they, like Joshua, returned to their work without needing a reminder from Leah, the teacher.

"I thought I'd come a little early to see if you could use some help," Hannah said as Leah walked over to greet her.

"I knew you would. I can't tell you how grateful I am for all the time you volunteer here."

Hannah glanced around the room. Nothing had changed since she'd attended this very schul. She'd sat at that desk over there by the west window, done her sums and written sentences on the blackboard, and heated her sandwich on the radiator as they all did in the winter. She'd celebrated birthdays here, performed in little plays with the other scholars, and fallen in love with Samuel Lapp. She had been in seventh grade; he, in eighth.

Unfortunately, Samuel hadn't known she existed even though he sat just two rows away.

Leah held out her hands. "Let me set this down for you. What kind did you make?"

"Half yellow, half chocolate. I put in two chocolate cupcakes just for you."

Leah's eyes lit up. "You know me so well."

Hannah laughed. "I should. You always bargained with me for anything chocolate if I brought it in my lunch." She glanced around. "What can I do?"

"Daniel and Jacob could use some help with their addition and subtraction lesson."

Hannah walked over to the table where Daniel and Jacob were hunched over their tablets. "Can I help you with your addition and subtraction?"

"Could we have a cupcake first?" Daniel responded, his grin full of charm.

She shook her head and tried to look stern. "Not until it's time. And besides, Joshua's mamm and daedi aren't here yet."

Jacob looked up at her and frowned. "Jenny isn't his real mamm. She died."

Daniel smacked his arm. "Hannah knows that. Don't be a schtummer! Jenny's his new mamm."

"I'm not a dummy!" Jacob said. He hit Daniel on the arm, and the two glared at each other.

"That's enough," Hannah said. "Time to get to work or the two of you will sit here while the rest of us eat cupcakes."

Groaning, they hunched over their lesson again. Hannah hid her smile while she watched Daniel, tongue caught between his teeth, worry over a problem. When he held up the paper and showed her his answer, she nodded with approval.

The door opened and Jenny walked in. Hannah watched as her schwei made her way across the room. Sometimes she still couldn't believe that this glowing, healthy woman was the same one who'd come home a pale, shattered version of herself just two years ago. Now, only those who knew what Jenny had been through could detect the slight limp in her walk and the small scar that lingered on her face, evidence of the injuries she'd suffered.

But everyone could see how she radiated happiness and could feel the aura of peace that surrounded her. Some of it came, Hannah knew, from Jenny working so hard to overcome her injuries. Some of it came from her deepening faith and her love of the Plain community into which she'd been accepted. And some of it came from the man she'd married—Hannah's widowed bruder, Matthew.

Praise God for that. Matthew had changed for the better after he and Jenny had married.

Hannah remembered how Jenny had once asked her what she looked for in a man. Had she made up a wish list? Jenny had wanted to know. Hannah, having never heard of such a thing, shook her head and laughed a little at the thought.

But Hannah had no interest in any of the men here in Paradise, and she'd started to wonder whether she would ever marry and start a family of her own. She feared that she'd become en alt maedel—an old maid.

Hannah joked with this sister of her heart that the man who would become her husband would just have to...