Her Forbidden Amish Love Read online

  “I’ve missed you, Hannah.”

  Her eyes were wide. Liquid with tears behind the dark blue. “I...”

  Gabe held his breath, waiting to hear why she’d abruptly abandoned him years before. Pressing her lips together, Hannah glanced away to stare out the window. Instantly, she stiffened.

  “What is it?”

  “Barb mentioned you were moved in?” Arms crossed tightly over her chest, Hannah was scanning the rest of the small, sparsely furnished apartment. “There’s not much here.”

  At least her comment admitted that she had talked with her employer about him. It wasn’t much, but he’d take it. “Well, I haven’t collected much. There are some boxes yet to unpack in the kitchen. Some more still in my vehicle. Otherwise, that’s about it. Did you think I was kidding when I said I needed curtains to cheer the place up?”

  Her gaze was fixed on his well-worn brown couch. “I thought you had other motives.”

  It was the closest she’d come to mentioning their past. “I did.”

  Growing up on a farm, Jocelyn McClay enjoyed livestock and pursued a degree in agriculture. She met her husband while weight lifting in a small town—he “spotted” her. After thirty years in business management, they moved to an acreage in southeastern Missouri to be closer to family when their eldest of three daughters made them grandparents. When not writing, she keeps busy hiking, bike riding, gardening, knitting and substitute teaching.

  Books by Jocelyn McClay

  Love Inspired

  The Amish Bachelor’s Choice

  Amish Reckoning

  Her Forbidden Amish Love

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  HER FORBIDDEN AMISH LOVE

  Jocelyn McClay

  Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.

  —Matthew 7:7

  First and always, thanks to God for this opportunity.

  This book is dedicated to my mom, Barbara. Thanks for exposing me to the joy of exploring quilt shops. I’m so glad I have projects that we found in them together. You don’t own a quilt shop in real life, so here is one for you in this story.

  Thanks to my uncle Gale, who lives within an Amish community, for his insight.

  Thanks to Misti and Joe, who began as terrific resources of paramedic work and quickly became wonderful friends.

  Thank you to Saundra for answering my quilt shop questions and having lovely inventory to tempt me for future undertakings.

  Thanks to Amy of the local animal shelter, who took the time to advise on puppy care.

  Any mistakes made on the above topics are entirely my own.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Choosing His Family by Jill Lynn

  Chapter One

  It was Socks’s soft yip that alerted her. Hannah Lapp looked up from snipping across the dark green material to see her expectant friend, Ruth Schrock, sway as she rose from her seat. Dropping the scissors, Hannah shot out a helpless hand as Ruth grabbed at the shelf behind her, bolts of fabric slowing her descent as she slid to the floor. Now the brightly hued material lay about Ruth’s unmoving figure in a kaleidoscope of color.

  “Is she having the baby?” Barbara Fastle, the Englisch owner of The Stitch quilt shop, asked as she and Rachel, an Amish customer, hurried from the back of the shop. “She seemed fine when she was sitting there a moment ago.”

  Hannah darted around the counter to kneel at Ruth’s side. Tentatively touching her friend’s face, she took in her closed eyes and pale color. “I don’t think so. But I’m not sure.” She carefully moved a nearly empty bolt that lay over Ruth’s torso and placed a gentle hand on the woman’s protruding stomach. When she felt an abrupt kick against her palm, but no tightening of flesh, Hannah exhaled in relief.

  Looking up, her gaze connected with two hovering faces that shared her concern. It was obvious that Louisa Weaver’s death a short month ago, along with her unborn child’s, was foremost in their collective minds. Hannah’s stomach clenched at the possibility of her friend meeting the same fate. “Rachel, run down to the furniture shop and get Malachi. He needs to be here.” An instant later, the bell over the door jangled frantically as the young Amish woman dashed out.

  “That EMT guy—” hastening toward the counter and the portable phone, Barb waggled her hand urgently as if it would assist her in what she was trying to say “—the one they had the grant for. He rented the apartment upstairs. Moved in this weekend. He’d be the fastest help. Run up and see if he’s there. If not, I’ll call 911 and get something rolling from out of town, but it’ll be a while before they can get here.”

  Jumping to her feet, Hannah rushed toward the rear of the store where an exit opened into a short hallway, her dog Socks at her heels. Bursting through the brightly painted door, Hannah pivoted from the alley entrance and toward the interior stairway that led up to the small apartment the elderly shop owner occasionally rented out. Hannah’s heart was racing faster than her black-soled shoes as she pounded up the steps’ worn linoleum.

  Hammering rapidly on the paneled wooden door, Hannah shot a worried look back down the narrow stairway as if she could still see her friend lying among the fallen bolts of fabric. Spying a concerned Socks on the steps, Hannah pointed for the Border collie to retreat to the bottom. When the door clicked open, she whipped her head back.

  At the sight of the man in the open doorway, Hannah gasped and her eyes widened. Mind whirling, she stepped back into the empty space of the stairwell. Only the hand that shot out to close around her wrist kept Hannah from tumbling down to land in a heap at the base of the stairs. She found herself pulled against a broad chest as strong arms wrapped about her back. The sensation was as riotous as the fall down the stairs would’ve been. Socks’s anxious bark barely penetrated the buzzing in her ears.

  Her nose was tucked under a smooth-shaven jaw. If anything, her heart rate accelerated at the sensation. She knew that jawline. If her sister hadn’t left that day, it would’ve been the one Hannah gazed at across the breakfast table for the past five years.

  But Gail had walked away.

  And Hannah had made the difficult decision to cut Gabriel Bartel out of her life.

  Her fingers throbbing against the sturdy chest that cushioned her, Hannah inhaled the scent of male and fresh soap before gingerly pushing away, careful this time to stay on the small landing. Gabriel’s hands slid from her back and down the sleeves of her dress to lightly encircle her wrists. Tapping with her toe into the area behind her until she felt the first step, Hannah hastily stepped onto it. Their arms stretched out between them before he opened his hands and released her. From the base of the stairs, Socks’s barks receded to a few concerned woofs.

  “I need...” Hannah swallowed, firmly pushed her shock aside and started again. “We need your help downstairs. Ruth has—a woman has fainted, a woman who’s with child...” The blood drained from Hannah’s face when Gabe stepped back into the apartment,
leaving her standing on the step. Surely he wouldn’t refuse to help because of their past? She puffed out a breath in relief when he reappeared a moment later, carrying a small pack.

  “My jump bag. Contains a few necessary pieces of equipment. Let’s go.” He gestured for Hannah to lead them down the narrow steps.

  She fled down them as if the turbulent waters of a broken dam were lashing at her heels. What followed her down was even more frightening. Memories of her past, suppressed these past years, now unleashed churning emotions—shock, excitement, longing, regret. If it wasn’t for her fear for Ruth, Hannah might’ve taken the exit to the alley, hastily hitched up her buggy horse, Daisy, and headed home to lick wounds—long-thought healed—that now throbbed anew.

  Instead, she burst through the back door into the quilt shop, Socks at her heels, to find Ruth still slumped on the floor with Barbara, her brow creased in deep lines, crouched beside her. The shop owner stood and backed away, relief apparent on her face as Gabe hastened forward.

  “She hasn’t moved.”

  Gabe nodded as he took her place beside the unconscious woman. Sliding Ruth’s black cloak aside, he picked up her limp wrist, resting his fingers on the blue-veined skin. “Her pulse is slow, but steady. Did she hit her head in the fall?” When Barb and Hannah promptly shook their heads, he untied and gently loosened the black bonnet.

  Ruth’s arms and legs shifted. Conscious of keeping out of the way, Hannah crouched down close enough to see her friend’s eyes flutter. Hannah opened her mouth to talk to Ruth, before glancing at Gabe to see if she should do so. Apparently interpreting her look, he nodded as he continued his examination.

  “Ruth! Are you all right?”

  “Just got a little dizzy when I stood up.” Eyes fully open now, Ruth looked confused at finding herself on the floor amid the bolts of fabric. She leaned forward, attempting to stand.

  “Let’s not be in any hurry to get up.” Gabe moved into her line of sight, a reassuring smile on his face. Hannah swallowed, trying not to remember when his smiles had been directed at her. When his comforting baritone could make her believe that everything would be all right for them, too. “You’ve had a fall. Let’s make sure you and your little passenger are ready before we stand. Just think of it as a moment to examine some of this lovely material more closely, okay?”

  Ruth’s eyes rounded and her arms swept protectively around her stomach. “My boppeli!”

  “Seems like he’s doing okay and not interested in making his first appearance in a quilt shop,” Gabe responded immediately, his voice soothing. “Does your head, neck or back hurt? No? Then let’s get you on to your side and give you two another moment before we go further.” He assisted Ruth in shifting her position, cushioning her protruding stomach with a bolt of dark blue fabric. “Do you get dizzy often?”

  “Nee. Only when I...” Ruth stopped and frowned.

  “Only when you...?” Gabe slipped a blood pressure cuff on her arm.

  “Only when I forget to eat.” The admission seemed dragged from the prone woman.

  “Ah, that does make a difference.” With a glance at the reading, he slipped the cuff off. “What is it that they say? You’re eating for two? Me, I’m starved by this time of day just eating for one.” He sat back on his heels. “You want to try sitting up?”

  Hannah, still rooted where she knelt by Ruth, couldn’t tear her eyes from Gabe’s confident, fluid movements. The light brown curly hair and deep green eyes were the same, but this wasn’t the youth she’d met and quickly fallen for at a party almost five years earlier. That’d been a charming boy. This was a capable man. And she was sure she’d memorized every detail about him then, down to the crease in his lean cheeks when he smiled, but she couldn’t recall him ever mentioning an interest in medical care.

  “Ja.” Ruth’s mutter, her voice tinged with self-disgust drew Hannah’s attention.

  Gabe smiled gently. “Your vitals are fine. Probably low blood sugar. I can’t recommend missing meals in your state.” Following a pointed look from him that scattered her breathing until she understood his intent, Hannah helped Gabe settle Ruth into the chair her friend had been sitting on ten minutes earlier. Once settled, Ruth wrapped her hands around her stomach again and looked fully into Gabe’s attentive face.

  Her brows furrowed. “I remember you.”

  Hannah opened her mouth to say something—offer to run for cookies or juice, or promise to make another quilt for the baby—anything to change the imminent subject. She didn’t want Ruth’s sharp mind to place where she’d previously seen the man now tending her.

  Ruth had been with her at the first party, but any further meetings Hannah had had with Gabe—and there’d been several—had been private. Treasured. Innocent. And too precious to share even with her closest friend.

  To her relief, before Hannah could say a word, bells jangled wildly as the shop’s front door burst open and Ruth’s husband, pale-faced and coatless, rushed in. Rachel Mast, a few steps behind, shut the door against the January cold. Dodging through the rows of multihued fabric, Malachi Schrock was kneeling at his wife’s side a moment later.

  Along with the blast of winter air, a tension pervaded the shop. Now that Ruth was alert and seemingly recovered, Hannah felt the weight of Gabe’s gaze. Knotting her fingers together, she tried to ignore its compelling lure. Her heart raced as if she was still running up the stairs. She expelled her breath in a rush when Barbara spoke. “Good thing you’re here, Malachi. Ruth is remembering strange men.”

  Hannah’s eyes finally met Gabe’s. He wasn’t a stranger. He was the man she’d loved. The man she’d been going to build a life with. Until she’d been reminded her community was more important. A community whose leaders were now mentioning more and more often that it was past time Hannah Lapp be baptized and marry one of its men. Dropping her gaze, she knelt to slide her fingers into Socks’s soft, comforting fur. Hannah knew she should, and would, do as they willed, even though it would be without love for the man. Because she’d only ever loved once. And the Mennonite man standing before her was definitely not an acceptable option for her to marry.

  * * *

  She wasn’t going to acknowledge him. Dropping his gaze, Gabe watched the man entwine his work-roughened fingers with his wife’s. Gabe returned his attention to Hannah, longing to do the same. Her slender hands were tangled in the dog’s black fur. Just like years ago, she’d withdrawn.

  But this time, unlike years ago, he wasn’t going to let her avoid him and disappear.

  The married couple held a brief, private discussion, while Gabe ran an assessing eye over his temporary patient. He didn’t ask when the baby was due. Amish women weren’t fixated on their due dates like Englisch women were, figuring babies would arrive when they were ready. After checking with Gabe that it was all right to move her, Malachi Schrock gathered his auburn-haired wife protectively under his arm and they exited the shop. Their voices trailed behind them as he shouldered the door open to let in a stream of cold air along with a few whirling snowflakes. The wood-and-glass door shut with a rattle. When the accompanying clatter of the bell faded away, the remaining four in the shop glanced at each other in the silence.

  Correction, Hannah glanced at Gabe before her gaze skittered away again. She immediately straightened and busied herself, picking up the fallen bolts of fabric. The Border collie at her side evaluated Gabe through intelligent brown eyes before trotting to a dog bed tucked along the wall. He watched her rest her muzzle on her white legs as she continued to study him.

  Well, at least he had the attention of one of them. You’re here now, Bartel. Begin as you mean to go on. This time, he wasn’t going to let Hannah avoid him. Picking up a bolt of dark blue material, he handed it to her. Eyes he knew were almost a matching shade remained carefully averted as Hannah hesitated before accepting the fabric. Gabe picked up another bolt, this time shifting it in his h
ands to ensure his fingers touched Hannah’s when she tentatively reached for it. Flinching at the contact, she darted a look at him as the heavy bolt sagged between them. Gabe met Hannah’s wary look with a bland smile. You’re not going to ignore me. She must’ve gotten the hint, as she hefted the fabric onto the shelf, turning her back to him as she did so.

  The gray-haired shop owner had stepped behind a wide counter and picked up the orange-handled scissors lying on dark green material spread out upon it. “Well, that was exciting. I thought we might have to pull down the baby quilts and put them to use. I hope Ruth is all right. Rachel, was there anything else you needed?”

  Gabe didn’t recognize the young woman who’d entered with Ruth’s husband. She looked younger than Hannah, so she might not have been in her rumspringa at the same time as the slender woman whose blue eyes continued to avoid his as she smoothed out the bolts, which were now lining the shelf again.

  He’d recognized Ruth, though. She’d been there when he’d first met Hannah. And had looked on doubtfully as he’d introduced himself and clumsily tried to charm her beautiful, reserved friend.

  Fortunately for him, something he’d said that night had worked. Either that, or Hannah had taken pity on him, because she’d agreed to meet with him again. And again. And many times over during the wonderful beginning of that summer. Until the night Gabe had paced the ground of their prearranged location, anxiously rehearsing a marriage proposal. And she’d never shown.

  He hadn’t seen her since.

  But he hadn’t forgotten her. And he’d always kept his ear to the ground in regard to Miller’s Creek.

  When this job opportunity arose at the same time he’d heard rumors that Hannah would be taking baptism classes so she could marry, it was like God was giving him a nudge. Gabe knew that once Hannah became a baptized member of the church, she’d never marry a Mennonite like himself and be shunned from her family and community. He’d been given a second chance.