An Unlikely Amish Match. Vannetta Chapman

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An Unlikely Amish Match - Vannetta Chapman


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      This book is dedicated to Ms. Peggy Looper, who inspired in me a real love for the art of storytelling.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

      Note to Readers

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Bible Verse

       Dedication

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      Susannah Beiler was carrying a to-go bag holding half of a cinnamon roll in one hand and her coffee in the other when she stepped out of Cabin Coffee and started across the street. At that exact moment, a large Ford pickup truck careened to the curb. Her friend Deborah pulled her back with a laugh and a smile. “Wouldn’t do to have you flattened on the streets of Goshen on this beautiful spring day.”

      After all she’d been through the last two years, it would be ironic. Susannah shook off that thought and would have walked across the street that was now clear, but Deborah stepped back under the canopy of the coffee shop and nodded toward the truck. “Do you ever wonder why people act like that?”

      The music was blaring at such a high level that the vehicle was practically rocking. The truck sported a bright blue paint job with streaks of lightning painted down the side, a large chrome bumper and spinning tire rims.

      “Why would you jack it up so high?” Susannah crossed her arms, tapping her right index finger against her left arm. Sometimes she felt like she didn’t understand other people at all.

      “And who would want to purchase such big tires? They look as if they’d fit a tractor.”

      “Ya, I’m not sure what the point is.”

      They glanced at one another when a young man jumped out of the truck, empty fast-food bags and soda cans trailing after him. He noticed the girls, smiled in a cocky Englisch way and then realized they were staring at the litter that had escaped from the truck.

      “Oops.” He snatched up the trash and tossed it into an adjacent trash can before once again flashing them both a smile.

      He was a bit taller than Susannah, but then, most men were. He was also built like the mule her dat kept to watch over the goats—stocky and muscular. Blue jeans, a T-shirt that sported the logo of some rock and roll band, and sandy-colored hair flopping into his eyes and curling at his neck completed the picture.

      Deborah laughed, but Susannah shook her head.

      She couldn’t abide rude people, and this guy seemed oblivious that the truck was obnoxious and the music was too loud.

      The driver of the truck had put the vehicle into Park and jumped out. He had bright red hair sticking out from his ball cap, but other than that he could have been a twin to the first guy. As Susannah and Deborah watched, he walked up to his buddy, and they performed some complicated handshake.

      “Take care, man.”

      “You know it.” The first guy reached into the truck and snatched out a ball cap and a faded backpack.

      “Later.”

      “Much.”

      The driver hopped back into the truck and sped away. The sandy-haired guy winked at Susannah and Deborah, pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and proceeded to stare at it as he walked in the opposite direction.

      “Clueless,” Susannah said, rubbing at the brow over her right eye. “He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t fall off the sidewalk the way he’s staring down at that phone.”

      “Maybe.”

      “Are you kidding me?”

      “I’m only saying that just because he’s different doesn’t mean that he’s bad.”

      “I didn’t say he was bad.”

      “Uh-huh, but the look you gave the both of them would have frightened a small child.”

      “Really?”

      “Definitely. You’ve always been able to do that—stop someone in their tracks.” Deborah linked their arms together and turned them toward her buggy. “Are you sure you don’t want to be a teacher?”

      “I’m not sure of much, but I am sure of that.”

      “Which is just as well, because you’re a fabulous quilter.”


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