THE AMISH
BRIDE
By
Mindy Starns
Clark
And Leslie
Gould
A beautiful
coming-of-age tale about the headstrong Mennonite-raised Ella Bayer
and the handsome young Amish man she thought she would love forever.
and the handsome young Amish man she thought she would love forever.
"TOP PICK! This wonderful Women
of Lancaster County novel gives outsiders a glimpse at what life is like for
Amish and Mennonite young people. There are twists and turns and even a
mysterious journal that will keep readers interested. The characters are well
rounded and well thought out by two amazing authors."
--RT Book Reviews
Magazine
EXCERPT
Chapter One
My grandmother was
stalling like a little kid at bedtime. I bent down to kiss her a second time.
"Mammi, I really need to go. Ezra's waiting for me." He was at the end of
the lane on his motorcycle.
"But I have
something for you." She forced her recliner down and struggled to a standing
position. "It's important."
Afraid she might
fall, I hurried to her side. "Tell me where it is," I said. "I'll get it
myself."
She plopped back
down into her chair. "Let me see…it's a book…"
Oh, boy. This wasn't
a good time from Mammi to start on a new topic. I sent Ezra a quick text
as she spoke, telling him to give me another minute, knowing it was bound to be
even longer than that.
"I think it's in my
room," she said. "On the dresser. Or maybe the
nightstand."
"I'm on it." I
hurried down the narrow hall, darting into her bedroom. It was tidy as a pin,
and the dresser was bare except for Mammi's hairbrush. On the nightstand
was her Bible and another leather-bound book. At first I thought it was a second
Bible, it was that big and thick. But when I picked it up, I noted
there was nothing written on the front. I opened the worn cover.
On the first page was the name "Sarah Gingrich." If I was
recalling my family history correctly, that was the name of Mammi's
mother.
I carefully flipped
through the book as I moved back up the hall, intrigued by the quirky things I
saw inside. It held a mix of drawings both large and small, recipes, an
occasional journal entry, and other miscellaneous writings, many of the entries
bearing dates that spanned decades in total.
The whole book was
offbeat, but some of the pages were especially so. They held an odd mix of
numbers and letters—or at least I thought they were letters at first glance.
Pausing in the hallway to take a closer look, I realized they weren't letters at
all but instead some sort of intricate, squiggly lines.
Bizarre.
"Mammi, this
is so cool," I said as I closed the book and entered the living room. "Did this
belong to my great-grandmother?"
"Yes, and I want you
to have it."
"Seriously? Wow. Thanks, Mammi." I held the book
against my chest. "I can't wait to read it."
My phone beeped.
Ezra! I'd forgotten all about him. Trying not to feel guilty, I told
Mammi I was sorry but I really had to go.
She nodded. "Next
time you're over, I'll tell you more about my mother. She was quite the…oh, how
would you say it?" She was quiet for a moment then her faded blue eyes lit up.
"Free spirit."
"Free spirit," I
echoed, looking at her. My time there was up, but I made no move to go as she
continued.
"She was stubborn
and feisty too. Sound familiar?" Her eyebrows raised, but when I chose to ignore
her implication, she added, "Just like
you."
"I'm not sure that's
a compliment."
"Oh, it is. You're
also smart like she was, and oh, so pretty. You have her thick hair and lovely
skin. You're even gifted creatively. Mostly, though, you have her
spunk."
I wasn't used to
receiving compliments from family members and felt too awkward to respond.
Mammi didn't seem to notice, though.
Instead, her eyes moved back to the book in my hands. Gazing at it, her face
began to cloud over, and I could see she was troubled.
"There's another thing, about the book," she said. "Just between us.
Something unique about it that you have to understand. And there's something
important I need you to do for me."
Curious, I lowered
myself to the chair on her left and waited for her to elaborate. She gestured,
so I opened up the book, angled it so that she could see the pages, and began
flipping through.
"All of those tiny
drawings at the tops and bottoms…" Her voice trailed
off.
"These nifty little
doodles?" Glancing down, I tilted the heavy tome my way. "It's funny, but they
kind of remind me of icons. You know, like for a phone
app?"
She stared at me
blankly. Of course she didn't know what a phone app was.
"They're symbols,"
she said. "Each one represents something."
I flipped through
more pages and saw that the various icons weren't just random—they were repeated
the exact same way in different places. She was right. Symbols.
"What are they
for?"
"I'm not sure. But
there's more."
She again gestured
with her hand, so I tilted the book back toward her and continued flipping until
she placed a pointed finger on the page to stop me.
Glancing down, I saw
that she was indicating one of the pages of weird squiggly lines. They reminded
me of letters or numbers but were unreadable, like a foreign language that used
a completely different alphabet.
"What is
this?"
She sat back and
clasped her hands in her lap. "It's a code. My mother didn't want just anyone
reading her journal. So she invented a code to keep parts of it
private."
"Cool." I was really
starting to like my great-grandmother Sarah.
I was studying the
squiggles more closely when I realized Mammi was leaning toward me in her
chair, her expression intense.
"Ella, I need you to
decipher that code. Figure out how to make sense of it. The symbols too. I want
you to translate the code and the symbols into words. I need to know what it
says."
My first reaction
was to giggle, but her face was so serious I held it in. What was this, James
Bond or something?
"I'm not exactly
good at this sort of thing. I mean, Zed's way smarter than I am. Why don't you
ask him?"
Mammi placed a hand on my arm and gave
it a firm squeeze. "Never mind him. I'm asking you, Ella. You can do
this. You have to do this."
"But why?" I looked
into her eyes and was surprised to see pain there. Deep pain. "What is it,
Mammi? Why is this so important to you?"
Without responding,
she broke our gaze, released my arm, and let herself fall back against the
chair. Eyes brimming with sadness, she turned her face away and spoke in a soft
voice. "Just let me know when you figure it out, will you? It's important to
me." Clearly, she wasn't going to elaborate.
I sat there for a
long moment, resisting the urge to insist she explain. It was no big surprise
that she wouldn't tell me, nor that she'd asked me not to tell anyone else. Our
family was known for its secrets. I hadn't imagined there were any left, but it
looked as though I was wrong.
"I…I'll give it a
shot, Mammi, but I'm not making any promises."
She nodded. "If it
would help, maybe you could even go visit the Home Place. It's still in the
family, you know. One of your distant cousins lives there now, and I'm sure
she'd be happy for you to come out."
Visit the Home
Place? In Indiana? It was a neat idea, but there was no way I could take
a trip like that any time soon. There were other things in my life that were
much more pressing.
"My mother grew up
there, you know," she said dreamily, not catching the reluctance in my
expression. "You'll see she drew it in the book a lot. Sometimes the whole farm,
sometimes just a particular tree or piece of furniture or view from a certain
window. I don't know the significance of those drawings, but they are obviously
tied in with the symbols and the code somehow. Maybe if you went there yourself,
it would be easier to figure it all out."
I looked down at the
book in my hands, feeling the weight of my grandmother's request—and her
memories—pressing down on me.
"Let's take this one
step at a time, okay? I'll see what I can do here first. You never know. I might
just crack this baby wide open without having to go anywhere at
all."
Mammi's eyes met mine. "Thank you,
Ella" she whispered.
"No problem."
My cell phone buzzed
yet again. Poor Ezra had to be going stir-crazy by now. I closed the book and
carefully squeezed it into my backpack for safekeeping. Then I stood and gave
Mammi a quick kiss on the cheek. As I turned to go, she wrapped a cold
hand around my wrist. I paused and looked down at her.
"Do whatever it
takes, Ella," she said, her voice tinged with desperation. "I'm an old woman,
and the Lord has numbered my days, but before I go to my grave, I simply
have to know what my mother wrote in that book."
AUTHOR INFO
Mindy Starns Clark
is the #1 bestselling author of twenty books, fiction and nonfiction, including
Whispers of the Bayou, Beauty to Die For, and the ever-popular
nonfiction guide The House that Cleans Itself. She and her husband John
live with their two daughters near Valley Forge, PA. Visit her website at
www.mindystarnsclark.com.
Leslie Gould is the
award-winning author of fifteen novels, including Beyond the Blue, winner
of RT Book Club Magazine's Reviewer's Choice Award for Best Inspirational
Novel. Leslie received her master of fine arts in creative writing from Portland
State University in 2009 and has taught fiction as an adjunct professor at
Multnomah University. She, her husband, Peter, and their four children live in
Portland, Oregon. Visit her website at
www.lesliegould.com.
Books in the Women
of Lancaster County Series include:
The Amish Midwife, winner of the Christy Award for
Best Contemporary Novel in a Series
The Amish
Nanny
The Amish Bride
The Amish Seamstress,
to be released
in 2013
The Amish Bride is available wherever books are
sold, including christianbook.com, barnesandnoble.com, and
amazon.com.
Copyright ©2012 by Mindy Starns
Clark and Leslie Gould
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