Rebecca's Promise , livre ebook

Harvest House Publishers - S. Eicher Jerry

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115 pages

English

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Readers of Amish fiction will delight in this new series by a veteran author in this popular genre (50,000 Jerry Eicher books sold).Rebecca Keim has just declared her love to John Miller and agreed to become his wife. But she's haunted by her schoolgirl memories of a long ago loveand a promise made and a ring given. Is that memory just a fantasy come back to destroy the beautiful present...or was it real?When Rebecca's mother sends her back to the old home community in Milroy to be with her aunt during and after her childbirth, Rebecca determines to find answers that will resolve her conflicted feelings.Faith, love, and tradition all play a part in Rebecca's divine destiny.

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Romance

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Publié par	Harvest House Publishers
Date de parution	01 mars 2009
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9780736931809
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0480€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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R ebecca s P R O M I S E
J E R R Y S. E I C H E R
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Cover by Dugan Design Group, Bloomington, Minnesota
Author photo by Brian Ritchie
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

REBECCA S PROMISE
Copyright 2009 by Jerry S. Eicher
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Eicher, Jerry S.
Rebecca s promise / Jerry Eicher.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-7369-2635-5 (pbk.)
1. Amish-Indiana-Fiction. 2. Fiancees-Fiction. 3. First loves-Fiction. I. Title.
PS3605.I34R425 2009
813 .6-dc22
2008041577
All rights reserved . No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means-electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other-except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America
09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 / RDM-NI / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
C ONTENTS
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
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Rebecca s Return
Books by Jerry S. Eicher
About Jerry Eicher
C HAPTER O NE

T he buggy slowed as it approached the Duffy side road, then turned right toward the old covered bridge. The horse, a sleek black gelding John Miller purchased last fall at a farm auction, was tired from the fast downhill drive. Its nostrils flared, specks of foam lathered its chest strap as it obeyed John s gentle tug at the reins.
Rebecca, seated beside John, had tossed the top of her shawl on the shelf above the backseat of the buggy. The lower part of the shawl hung over her shoulder on John s side. She left it there, not certain how to remove it in the tight buggy without touching John. Not that she would have minded, but she knew he stood strong when church rules were concerned, and never had he voluntarily touched her yet.
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Rebecca tuck a strand of her dark hair under her kapp and look off to her left-east to the community of Harshville. To the west, just around the sharp bends of the road and across a smaller creek, was her home. Lester and Mattie would surely be expecting Rebecca soon, but John was in no hurry to take her there. Instead an idea, long in the back of his mind, now took sudden, solid form. He knew this was the time and the place. At the realization of what he wanted to do, his hands tensed on the reins.
To calm himself, he breathed in deeply the late November air, winter on its edge. Wispy clouds, driven by the eternal Ohio wind, scurried across the sky. He tried to hide his nervousness by glancing at the sky and opening the front of his black suit coat, loosening the hooks and eyes with one hand to let in the warmth of the sun.
Weather s nice. Especially for this time of the year, John offered, stealing a glance in Rebecca s direction. Not that he was shy around her. They had been dating now for two years, but today he was taken anew by her freshness and form.
Rebecca had captured his attention when he first saw her after her family had moved to Wheat Ridge from Milroy, Indiana.
A right smart move for the family, the general consensus had been, because it validated their own choices to settle in the pleasant community. And so the Keim family had been accepted readily, as had anyone else who left where they were to move to the smaller Amish community here along Wheat Ridge.
Lest someone else beat him to it, John had wasted no time in making known his interest in the Keim daughter. Rebecca wasn t the oldest, although it had appeared so when the new family arrived because the two oldest children were already married with families of their own.
Yes, it is nice, she allowed, turning to look at him, although a few weeks ago, it was better. The trees had their full color.
He had turned toward her when she started to speak. That was when he knew he could look into her face without any embarrassment. Not that she seemed to object at other times, but he always tried to keep from showing too much emotion, lest she think him forward.
He glanced away quickly when she was finished speaking, keeping the reins taut on the gelding. Yet the softness of her face stayed with him. It was as if she was thinking extra gentle thoughts today. He felt a desire to reach out to her, to brush her face with his fingers, but he held himself in check. It would not be right, he reminded himself sternly, or in line with his faith. Such actions led to downward paths and away from the Da Hah s will.
Let s stop at the bridge, John said. Yes, today was surely the day he could do something about his feelings for Rebecca. As he slowed the horse, he hoped his nerves would not betray him too much.
Bouncing slightly alongside the ditch, John drove the buggy half on and half off the road, stopping the gelding near a fence post. This should work, he commented to fill the awkward space around his own heart.
Rebecca s silence made John want to look her way all the more. But he dared not risk it again. His face might reveal his thoughts, and that must not happen.
Then from the other side of the bridge, a red sports car came slowly down the hill. The bright color of the car caught John s attention as he descended from the buggy. With his hand poised to reach for the tie rope, he studied the car as it approached. The occupants were a young boy and girl. The girl had her head on the boy s shoulder. The English, John thought. They sure mess things up good with their way. In love and out of love each new day of the year. No fear of God in their eyes.
Then John remembered his own feelings for Rebecca. May God help us, he silently prayed as he glanced toward the sky. Opening the small snaps on the back buggy door, his fingers found the tie strap.
Forcibly relaxing his face, he walked to the other side of the buggy where Rebecca was already coming down, nimbly balancing on the round buggy step with her one foot while using the momentum of the leaning buggy to descend to the ground.
The weather has turned really nice. He turned again to the weather to cover his nervousness. Why she affected him this way, he wished he knew. Was it what the English called being in love ? Is this what the two in the red car felt too? He doubted it, finding the comparison between the two worlds too improbable.
Rebecca lifted her eyes to his. It s nice, she said again, holding his gaze. This morning Dad thought it might turn warm, but you never know this time of the year.
Well, it s beautiful now, John said, letting his eyes fall away from her and then back up toward the bridge. Have you been here before?
I come here sometimes, she said quietly.
Really? he asked, immediately interested. By yourself?
Mostly, she allowed. Sometimes Katie comes with me. Mostly though, I come by myself. My sister Margaret used to like coming here too when she was home.
What do you do here? he asked.
Well, she replied, casting her eyes to the ground, woman things I suppose. Look at the river. Watch the squirrels. Think about life. Nothing like skipping rocks on the water.
He glanced sharply at her and was rewarded with a slight chuckle. Isn t that what boys do?
His usual confidence vanished when her eyes turned on him. And yet he couldn t let this moment be lost. He mustn t say the wrong thing, but his response hung up in his throat. And then he decided to take the chance. Let the ripples go where they wished.
You shouldn t judge us all the same, he said. Some boys do more than skip rocks on the water. We all grow up sooner or later He hesitated, not knowing quite what else to say. She was still looking at him.
He had better get a firm grip on his emotions, he told himself, if he was to say what he intended to say.
Let s go see the bridge, he muttered quietly, turning in that direction. He couldn t help notice that she was following quite willingly, her step right by his side, her form so near.
Where do you go when you come down here? he asked, stopping at the edge of the road, the clear sound of running water beneath them.
Sometimes, Rebecca said, I go down to the water over there. Her hand rose to point to the other side. But the path is a little rough, and we are in our Sunday clothing.
He nodded. Let s try it though.
As they walked across the bridge, he was again taken by the sense of her presence. She was so close to him that her arm almost brushed against his, and the sound of their steps echoed in the enclosed area.
The possibility that this might be the girl he would spend the rest of his life with overwhelmed him. He so wanted to take her hand, swinging there beside him, so near and yet so far. They were separated by a chasm, as deep as it was wide, of church rules and personal commitment. John was not about to bridge it, except under extraordinary circumstances. Those had not arrived yet.
He kept his eyes straight ahead, not looking at her until he could think of something other than he