Copyright © 2026 by Elizabeth Miller
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, businesses, farms, church districts, and communities portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or to actual events is entirely coincidental.
The Amish communities and practices depicted in this novel are presented for fictional purposes. Amish customs, Ordnung, technology use, worship practices, courtship traditions, and community expectations may vary among church districts and settlements.
Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
The recipes included in this book are provided for general reading enjoyment and household inspiration only. Readers are responsible for reviewing ingredients, food allergies, dietary restrictions, and safe food preparation practices before preparing any recipe. The author and publisher assume no responsibility for adverse reactions, cooking results, or individual dietary needs.
No medical information presented in this work of fiction is intended to replace professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Readers should consult a qualified physician or other healthcare professional regarding any health concerns, symptoms, or conditions that may require medical evaluation or care.
Cover Design: Driver Classics
First Edition, 2026
Published in the United States of America.
ASIN: B0HDKCLQPN
Elizabeth Miller
Amish Romance Publications
Dedication
For every woman who has ever believed she should already know what no one has patiently taught her.
May you have the courage to begin, the humility to learn, and the grace to understand that an imperfect first attempt never determines your worth.
Epigraph
“The heart of the prudent getteth knowledge; and the ear of the wise seeketh knowledge.”—Proverbs 18:15 (KJV)
Chapter 1 The Road to Pine Creek Lorena Yoder braced one boot against the van’s rear bumper and shoved her brown travel trunk farther across the cargo floor while the hired driver tightened a canvas strap through its side handle. The late-May sun had dried the lane after two days of rain, and from where she stood beside the Yoder farmhouse she could smell turned garden soil and the manure Eli had spread beyond the orchard. Ellen came from the porch carrying the folded packing list, read each line again, and checked the trunk latch before looking toward the small case Lorena would keep beside her seat. “You already checked it once, Mamm (mother).” “I know what I checked, Lorena, and I know how easily a needed thing can be left behind when a person is angry.” Lorena pressed the latch herself and heard the metal catch lock beneath her thumb. Lorena interpreted her mother’s second inspection the same way she interpreted the trip itself: Ellen trusted a written list more than she trusted Lorena’s judgment. Eli came from the barn after putting away the milk pails, washed his hands at the pump, and stopped beside Lorena before the driver closed the van’s rear doors. He had spent most of breakfast saying little while Ellen reviewed the travel arrangements, but Lorena recognized the direct manner he used when he had finally chosen what needed saying. “Use the summer well, Lorena, and do not spend six hours on the road rehearsing every quarrel you have had with your mamm.” “I can hardly forget them when one of those quarrels is the reason I am leaving.” “Learning from Martha is the reason you are going, and what you do with that chance belongs to you.” Lorena looked toward the pasture rather than answer the part she did not want to consider. After a moment she promised only that she would respect Martha and Daniel’s household, which was less than Eli had asked because she remained too angry to promise more. Ellen returned to the porch and brought back a sealed envelope with Martha’s married name written across the front in dark ink. Lorena watched her mother slide one finger along the flap to make certain it had sealed completely, then hold the letter out without explaining what she had written. “This is for Martha, and I want you to give it to her unopened.” “I know better than to read another person’s letter.” “It has the household information she asked for, the week we expect you home, and the number for the Maple Run community telephone if she needs to send word quickly.” Lorena placed the envelope inside the small case beside her clean handkerchiefs and the Bible Ellen had packed that morning. Lorena took more comfort than she wanted to admit from knowing that Ellen had written an expected return period instead of leaving the summer open, though she still disliked how completely the arrangements had been made before anyone asked what she preferred. The driver moved around to the front of the van while Eli carried Lorena’s smaller case to the passenger door, leaving mother and daughter with only a few yards of gravel between them. Ellen took one step forward, lifted her right arm halfway toward Lorena, then stopped and smoothed the front of her plain blue apron instead. “You will write after you settle in.” “Jah (yes), Mamm, I will write.” “And listen to Martha before you decide she is correcting you for the same reasons you think I do.” Lorena could have answered that correction usually sounded the same no matter who gave it, but she remembered Eli’s earlier counsel too clearly to pretend she had forgotten it. She said goodbye, allowed Ellen to squeeze her hand for a moment, and climbed into the van with the unsatisfactory knowledge that neither of them had managed the embrace both might once have given without thinking. After Lorena had exhausted the arguments she had rehearsed since breakfast, she began counting the work she had already learned while miles of Ohio road passed beyond her window. She could milk two cows without wasting motion, lead a nervous horse through a narrow gate, hoe a garden row straight enough for Eli, pack produce for market, and preserve beans and peaches without leaving loose lids on the jars. “No one sends me away to learn those things,” she said. The driver kept his attention on the road and gave no sign that he expected an answer, which suited her better than sympathy from a stranger. Lorena believed Ellen treated bread, sewing, mending, household planning, and the duties of marriage as more important than competence in the barn or garden. Lorena understood that a household required more than strong arms and willing feet, but she resented being measured most sharply where she had struggled longest. She watched fence lines and spring fields pass until she could admit that resentment did not change the fact that several of Ellen’s criticisms had been accurate. Lorena remembered most clearly a gray dress she had tried to hem during the previous winter, when she had hurried because a youth gathering began before supper. Ellen had examined the uneven stitches, placed the dress across the sewing table, and shown Lorena where the hem climbed nearly half an inch over one side seam. “You pulled the cloth toward you instead of letting it lie flat.” “I can wear it that way.” “You can, but you asked me to teach you how to do it properly.” Lorena had taken the seam ripper from Ellen, removed six inches of work, and then abandoned the dress for two days because she preferred wearing a crooked hem to beginning again. Now, with Pennsylvania still hours ahead, she could remember Ellen’s exact words without inventing cruelty that had not been spoken, yet she still did not examine how often her own impatience had turned an ordinary correction into another contest between them. Near the Stoltzfus lane late in the afternoon, Lorena recognized Martha beside Daniel at the mailbox before the driver turned from the main road toward their property. Daniel opened the rear doors after the driver parked on the gravel pull-off; Martha came directly to Lorena and took the smaller case from her before asking about the trip. “You made good time from Holmes County.” “The driver made good time, and I sat where he told me.” “That may be the first useful lesson of the summer, then.” Lorena stared at her sister until Martha’s smile made the teasing plain enough to accept. No one asked to see Ellen’s packing list, inspected Lorena’s dress for travel wrinkles, or checked whether her hands looked ready for sewing, so Lorena loosened her grip on the small case; Daniel and the driver moved the trunk toward the house while Martha kept pace beside Lorena, speaking about supper and the children until Lorena could almost regard the arrival as an ordinary family visit rather than punishment. Martha opened the side door and waited while Lorena crossed the threshold into the washroom that connected the yard with the kitchen. She set the small case on a wooden bench, then turned with the same direct welcome she had used when Lorena visited as a child. “Kumm rei, Lorena. (Come in, Lorena.)” Lorena smiled despite herself because Martha had chosen the familiar Pennsylvania Dutch phrase instead of a speech about work, improvement, or marriage preparation. From the kitchen came the scrape of a chair and Sadie’s voice asking whether Aunt Lorena had truly arrived, followed by Daniel reminding the child not to run across a floor her mother had just washed. Lorena took Ellen’s sealed letter from the small case and handed it to Martha, who placed it on a shelf beside her sewing basket to read after the children were settled. Whatever Martha planned to teach in Pine Creek, Lorena knew within those first minutes that her sister would not begin by presenting a list of faults. Lorena had taken only three steps into the kitchen when six-year-old Sadie hurried from the hall wearing one shoe and carrying the other in her hand. Behind her, three-year-old Peter had tipped a tin cup beside the washstand; a narrow puddle spread across the boards near his bare feet while Martha reached for a cloth. “Aunt Lorena, my buckle will not go through.” “Bring it here, and keep your foot still while I look.” Lorena sat on the bench, found a twist in the leather strap, and worked the buckle through the proper hole without pinching Sadie’s ankle. At the washstand, Martha moved Peter away from the water, wiped the boards, and gave him another cup after checking that he had not soaked his clothes. Daniel passed the doorway carrying a feed measure toward the barn and called that he would finish the afternoon chores before supper; Lorena had expected lessons to begin with an apron, a needle, or a mixing bowl, yet Martha’s first request had involved a child’s shoe and a spilled cup before Lorena had unpacked anything. Martha wrung out the floor cloth and asked Lorena to take Sadie upstairs so the child could put away a clean dress before supper. Lorena carried the small case in one hand, let Sadie lead her to the bedroom, and listened while her niece explained which chest drawer belonged to her and which one Peter was forbidden to open. “Mamm says he unfolds everything.” “Then we had better put your dress where his fingers cannot reach it.” Sadie laughed and helped Lorena slide the drawer shut after the dress was folded inside. The simple task required no correction, no demonstration, and no reminder that Lorena was nineteen and might someday manage children of her own, yet she handled the child’s questions and belongings without difficulty. As she returned downstairs, she wondered why Ellen rarely counted this sort of competence when discussing whether Lorena was ready for greater household responsibility, and she did not yet consider that Ellen might value those abilities even if she rarely named them. Daniel returned from the barn with his sleeves rolled above his wrists, washed at the pump, and joined the family after Martha set chicken, noodles, peas, and sliced bread on the supper table. Lorena had barely finished serving Peter when Daniel asked what she hoped to learn before returning to Ohio. “I hope to learn enough that Mamm stops treating me like a girl who missed half her growing up.” “No one here expects you to become Martha before summer ends.” “That may be true here, but Mamm expects considerably more.” Martha passed the peas to Daniel and waited until he had served himself before speaking, refusing to let Lorena turn the meal into a complaint session while the children listened. Daniel changed the subject to Pine Creek market days, the garden, and which chores Lorena might prefer to begin with, and Lorena appreciated the ordinary talk even while she silently measured his comments against what she believed Ellen expected. Lorena helped carry plates to the washbasin after supper while Martha scraped the children’s dishes and Daniel took Peter outside for a few minutes before bedtime. Lorena expected Martha to return to what she had said about Ellen, and her sister did so only after Sadie had gone upstairs to put away her apron. “I will listen when you need to tell me what happened at home, but I will not help you make Mamm into an enemy while she is in Ohio and cannot answer for herself.” “I did not call her an enemy.” “You do not have to use the word if every mistake becomes evidence that she thinks poorly of you.” Lorena rinsed a plate and placed it in the wooden rack with more care than the task required; Martha told her that learning would become impossible if she spent each lesson deciding whether the lesson proved Ellen right or wrong, then handed her another plate and returned to the work instead of demanding agreement. Lorena disliked hearing that both she and Ellen carried responsibility for the family quarrel, but she could not dismiss Martha’s words as easily as a scolding. When the dishes were finished, Martha led Lorena through the downstairs rooms so she would know where work supplies were kept, and Lorena stopped at the sewing-room doorway. A large folding quilting frame had been propped upright against the wall beside two straight-backed chairs, a covered basket of thread, and a chest filled with folded fabric. “If you are planning to put me under that frame from breakfast until supper, I may walk back to Ohio.” “You would wear out your shoes long before you reached Holmes County.” “I am serious, Martha.” “So am I, and no one learns to keep a household by doing one task all day.” Lorena moved closer to the frame and touched one smooth rail, recognizing the workmanship even though she had little interest in what would eventually be stretched across it; she saw no prepared lesson waiting for her first evening and asked what Martha actually intended to teach instead of assuming the answer. At the worktable, Martha took a narrow notebook of household plans from the sewing chest and motioned for Lorena to take the other chair. She explained that the summer would include cooking, cleaning, mending, simple accounts, care of children, community work, food preservation when the season required it, and learning how one week of household labor fit around worship, market, and farm responsibilities. “You will not become useful by copying every way I do things.” “That sounds different from what Mamm usually says.” “Mamm has her way, I have mine, and you will have to learn enough to choose wisely instead of choosing against someone.” Lorena studied the columns in Martha’s notebook and saw flour purchases, soap, lamp fuel, thread, and several small market expenses written in a neat hand; Martha told her that competence meant knowing why a task mattered, not merely performing it under another woman’s eye, then closed the notebook before the lesson could become too much for one evening. Lorena left the table with more work ahead than she had expected, but she now viewed the summer as a collection of learnable duties rather than a single judgment on her readiness for marriage. Lorena watched Martha take three quilt patterns from a flat envelope and spread them across the worktable. Lorena saw repeated nine-patch blocks on the first, a star on the second, and a branching Tree of Life with leaves rising from a central trunk on the third. “Choose one serious project for the summer.” “Must it be serious?” “If you want the work to teach you anything, jah.” Lorena pushed the nine-patch aside first because she grew impatient imagining rows of identical squares, then moved the star pattern away after considering how obvious a bad seam would be at its points. She kept the Tree of Life in front of her longer, tracing the printed branch lines with one finger while Martha waited without recommending any choice; the design required many separate leaves but offered enough variation that Lorena could imagine wanting to see the whole tree finished, which was more interest than she had expected to feel toward any quilt. Lorena lifted the Tree of Life pattern and studied the measurements printed along the trunk, branch sections, and leaf shapes before placing it squarely between herself and Martha. She chose it because she expected more interest from changing angles than from repeating the same block across an entire bed covering, though she suspected the choice would prove harder. “This one.” “It will ask more of your measuring than the nine-patch.” “I would rather measure carefully than sew the same square until harvest.” “Then the Tree of Life is yours.” Martha explained that a quilter who guessed at irregular pieces could create a small cutting error that disturbed several later joins, but she did not use the warning to steer Lorena toward an easier design; because Martha had allowed her to choose a difficult task without questioning whether she could manage it, Lorena became more willing to hear the caution attached to her choice. Lorena turned the pattern over twice, then looked toward the fabric chest and tried to calculate how many weeks remained before the Ohio harvest drew her home. Lorena judged the finished drawing far more complicated than the one practice square she had sewn during winter, and she could already imagine Ellen asking whether the project had been completed. “Do you expect me to finish the whole quilt before I go home?” “I expect competent work and honest effort, and a finished quilt will require both.” “That is not quite an answer.” “It is the only answer I can give before you make the first cut.” Martha added that speed would not count as progress if Lorena spent the following day removing poor stitches, then asked her to leave the pattern on the table until morning; Lorena agreed, although she silently decided that she would read an unfinished quilt as proof that Ellen had been right to send her away. Daniel gathered the family around the kitchen table after the children had washed for bed, and Lorena took the chair beside Sadie while Martha opened the family Bible. Daniel chose a single verse rather than a long reading because the children were tired, then read with the measured care Lorena remembered from worship in her parents’ home. “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.” (Proverbs 15:1, KJV) Sadie asked what grievous meant, and Daniel explained that the verse warned against words that stir anger instead of helping people speak rightly to one another. Lorena kept her attention on the grain of the tabletop because she had no difficulty recalling several answers she had given Ellen for the sole purpose of ending an argument on her own terms. She also remembered times when Ellen had spoken sharply first, and she knew she did not have to deny those moments in order to accept Daniel’s reading. She faced a simpler fact: another person’s poor words had never required Lorena to answer with words chosen to wound. Martha closed the Bible and sent Sadie upstairs while Daniel carried Peter, already half asleep, toward the stairs, leaving Lorena to gather the cups from the table. She remembered telling Ellen two days earlier that no man would reject a wife because one hem wandered, a remark meant less as an argument than as a way to make her mother stop talking. “I suppose that verse was for me.” “It was for everyone at the table, including me.” “You are not the one who argued before breakfast.” “No, but I have had other mornings.” Martha did not list Lorena’s faults or ask for a confession to be sent home, so Lorena found it harder to defend herself against an accusation no one had made; she carried the cups to the washbasin and admitted privately that wanting the last word had sometimes mattered more to her than whether the last word was fair. Rather than continue the discussion, Martha opened her household notebook again and asked Lorena to help prepare the next day’s work list before they went upstairs. They wrote breakfast preparation, chicken feeding, garden weeding, bread mixing, one hour for sewing, dinner, mending, and the ordinary evening work in the order that made sense around Daniel’s farm schedule and the children’s needs. “Why only one hour for sewing if that is what Mamm sent me to learn?” “Because tomorrow still has meals, children, animals, dirt, and people in it.” “I could get more done with two hours.” “You may earn a second hour if the first one teaches you to stop before you become careless.” Lorena almost objected to the word careless, then recognized that Martha had used it to describe a possible future choice rather than Lorena’s character; she copied the list onto a smaller sheet for herself and went upstairs knowing that she would have to accept instruction without turning each ordinary correction into another argument with a woman who was not even in the room. With the children nearly ready for bed, Martha carried several folded lengths from the fabric chest to the worktable so Lorena could begin deciding which colors belonged in the Tree of Life. Lorena chose a muted green for most leaves, a brown print for the trunk, cream for the background, and a darker green she wanted to scatter among the branches. “You will notice the darker green first if you use too much of it.” “I like it better than the pale one.” “Then use it where you want the eye to notice a leaf, not everywhere.” Lorena expected Martha to replace her choice with a safer combination, but her sister only set the fabrics beside one another and asked her to look from several feet away before deciding. After comparing them from the doorway, Lorena kept the darker green and reduced the amount she planned to use, pleased that the arrangement remained hers even after she had changed part of her plan in response to Martha’s advice; Martha folded the unused fabric back into the chest and left the chosen pieces on the table for morning. At one end of the worktable, Martha arranged a ruler, a sharpened pencil, paper templates, and fabric scissors before demonstrating how to place the first leaf template with the grain of the cloth and mark its edges without shifting it. Lorena copied the process once successfully, but on the second leaf she moved the ruler while reaching for the pencil and marked the lower edge too close to the first. “Check that width before you cut.” “I already measured it.” “Measure it again.” Lorena laid the ruler across the marks and found the leaf nearly a quarter inch too narrow at its widest point. Lorena tightened her grip on the pencil before she had cut anything, yet she could not blame the tool because she could see from the two lines exactly where she had moved the ruler; Martha made no comment beyond asking her to mark a fresh section of cloth, and Lorena began again with the ruler held flat beneath her fingers. The second marked leaf matched the paper template, but Lorena had already cut the first narrow piece before Martha stopped her from continuing with the same error. She picked up the unusable scrap and waited for the familiar correction about wasted cloth, calculating how quickly Ellen would have noticed the bad measurement. “Put that one in the scrap basket, and tell me what happened.” “I moved the ruler before I marked the second edge.” “What will you do differently on the next one?” “Keep the ruler planted until both marks are down.” Martha accepted the answer, placed the narrow leaf with other scraps that could still serve smaller projects, and returned the scissors to Lorena rather than taking over the cutting; because Martha did not lecture her, Lorena had nothing to argue against, so she examined the next section more carefully and discovered that admitting the mistake took less time than defending it would have taken. Lorena laid the paper template on a fresh section of green cloth, aligned the edge, and pressed the ruler firmly enough that it did not move when she marked both sides; she checked the width a second time before lifting the scissors and cut along the pencil line without hurrying the curved end. “This one matches.” “Jah, it does.” “I suppose you are going to tell Mamm that I wasted the first piece.” “If Mamm asks what you learned, I will tell her you learned to check before cutting.” Lorena looked at Martha and could not tell whether her sister was teasing, protecting her, or simply stating the truth without decoration. She placed the properly cut leaf beside the Tree of Life pattern and noticed that the clean edges matched the printed shape closely enough that no explanation would be needed later; Martha asked her to stop there for the night, and Lorena obeyed instead of cutting another piece simply to prove she could. Upstairs, Lorena unpacked the last of her clothing, set her small Bible beside the travel case, and placed the finished green leaf beside the folded Tree of Life pattern. Her fingers were tired from travel more than sewing, and she could hear Daniel fastening an outside door below while Martha settled the children in their rooms before pausing at Lorena’s doorway. “I still do not like being sent away,” she said. “You do not have to like the reason tonight.” “But I am not quitting.” “That is enough for the first day.” Lorena waited until Martha had gone before sliding the narrow ruined scrap into her sewing box rather than throwing it away, not because she meant to preserve the mistake but because she wanted to remember how easily one careless movement had changed the cut; she decided Ellen would not receive a letter saying Lorena had quit on her first day in Pine Creek, and the correctly measured leaf remained on the dresser when Lorena put out the lamp.