Chapter One

      Elizabeth Stoltzfus stared at the small residence surrounded by a yard filled with junk—wood scraps, rusted cars and other debris she couldn’t identify. She’d been cleaning houses for years now, but she’d never seen a place like this. The family who’d recently moved to their church district lived here? This was the place the bishop wanted her to clean?

      She frowned. The house wasn’t large enough for a typical Amish family, and it certainly wasn’t big enough to warrant a cleaning lady. But she’d do it because Bishop John had asked her, although she was afraid of what she might find inside.

      She steered her buggy to the end of the driveway, where she secured her horse to the hitching post, which looked brand-new. Ellie reached into the back of her vehicle for her cleaning supplies, including her broom. When she cleaned houses for the English, she used her clients’ vacuum cleaners. Her corn broom or a damp mop was the best way to clean Amish floors, most of which were made of wood or linoleum.

      She approached the side door with her plastic supply tote in one hand and broom in the other. She leaned the broom handle against the building and rapped hard on the door. A child’s high-pitched cry rent the silence before the door opened. A young woman with a baby on her hip studied her, then saw the supplies and smiled with relief.

      “Sarah Miller?” Ellie realized the woman was actually a teenage girl.

      “Ja, I’m Sarah. Come in,” she said as she moved aside to allow Ellie entry. “You’re here to clean for us, ja? Thanks be to Gott. The house needs it badly.”

      With a smile, Ellie quietly took in her appearance. Sarah wore no head covering, and tendrils of hair were pulled out as if she or her baby had tugged on the blond locks. Her light blue tab dress was stained with what looked like baby food and who knew what else. She had dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes.

      “The bishop sent you.”

      Ellie nodded. “You’re the one who spoke with him, then? He’s a gut man.” She meandered around the room, taking stock of what needed to be done, which looked to be a great deal. “Is there any particular place you want me to start?”

      She hid her horror at the condition of the kitchen as she tied on her apron. The floors were stained and warped, and the walls needed several coats of white paint. The countertops didn’t look much better. She wondered why this young family had moved here and about the state of their finances.

      “You can start here, in the kitchen,” the girl said, gesturing about the room. The baby cried louder, and Sarah tried to soothe him.

      Ellie felt bad for the young mother, who looked ready to keel over. The girl clearly needed her rest. She’d offer to hold the little boy, but she had a job to do and the work had to be completed first. She grabbed her broom and started on the floor, which was covered with dust and dirt. With even sweeps of the corn broom bristles across warped wood, she swept the filth into a pile, then onto a metal dustpan, which she dumped outside.

      The floor done, she began to wipe down the countertop with a wet, soapy sponge. After checking inside the cabinets, she removed the meager contents and ran a damp sponge over the shelves. Sarah had left the room. She could hear the baby crying from upstairs. Trying to ignore the sound, Ellie did what she could to clean the kitchen. The stove looked new and required little but a damp cloth. She spent a good amount of time on the small gas-powered