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A SON'S VOW
The Charmed Amish Life #1
Shelley Shepard Gray
Releasing on January 26, 2016.
Avon Inspire
Shelley Shepard Gray’s first book in her Charmed Amish
Life series is set in the quaint Amish village of Charm, Ohio, and tells the
stories of the Kinsinger siblings who are each struggling to find both
forgiveness and love in the face of tragedy.
Three months ago, everything changed for Darla Kurtz and
her family. Darla’s father was responsible for a terrible fire at Charm’s
lumber mill which killed five Amish men. And though he, too, lost his life, the
town of Charm hasn’t looked at her family the same since. Even Lukas
Kinsinger—with whom Darla used to have a close friendship.
Now her brother’s anger at the town is spilling over onto
Darla, and she has the bruises to prove it. The accident already cost five
lives, but if something doesn’t change soon, Darla fears it will cost her—and
her family—even more.
Lukas Kinsinger wants to mourn the loss of his father,
but he can hardly find the time to breathe. Suddenly the head of his father’s
lumber mill and responsible for taking care of his three siblings, he’s feeling
the pressure. He has also never felt more alone—especially with the new tension
between he and Darla. But when he learns of her troubles at home, Lukas knows
he can’t simply stand by and watch. Someone has to help her before another
tragedy occurs.
As Lukas and Darla attempt to repair their families, they
discover something deeper than friendship growing between them. But will Lukas
and Darla’s love be accepted after so much loss? Or will the pain of the past
overcome any chance of future happiness?
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Chapter
1
March
20
It
was another picture-perfect day in Charm.
The
sky was pale blue, quietly complementing the acres of vibrant green farmland as
far as the eye could see. Spring lambs had arrived. They were frolicking in the
fields, their eager bleats echoing through the valley. The morning air was not
too chilly or too damp. Instead, a hint of warmth teased, bringing with it as
much hope as the crocus buds that peeked through the dark dirt of the numerous
clay pots decorating cleanly swept front porches.
It
was the type of morning that encouraged a person to go out walking, to smile.
The type of day that reminded one and all that God was present and did, indeed,
bestow gifts.
In
short, it was the type of day that used to give Darletta Kurtz hope. A day like
this should have made her happy, revitalized her. It should have made her want
to pull out a pencil and one of her many notebooks and record the images she
saw and list activities she wanted to do.
It
was the kind of day she used to love and maybe, just maybe, take for granted.
But
now, as she rested her elbows on the worn wooden countertop that had no doubt
supported generations of postal workers before her, Darla could only silently
acknowledge that another day had come. It was sure to feel as endless as the
one before it, and would no doubt be exactly like the rest of the week.
It
was another day to get through. A way to pass ten hours of expected
productivity before she could retreat to her bedroom and collapse on her bed.
Only then would she feel any sense of peace. Because only then would she be
able to wait for oblivion. She’d close her eyes, fall into a peaceful slumber,
and, hopefully, forget her reality for eight hours.
It
had been ninety-nine days since her father died. Tomorrow would bring the one
hundredth. It was a benchmark she’d never intended to look forward to. Wearily,
she wondered if anyone else in Charm was anticipating the milestone as well.
Undoubtedly
some were.
After
all, her father hadn’t been the only man to die in the December fire at
Kinsinger Lumber Mill. No, he was one of five. And though it wasn’t as if she’d
ever forget that fact, there were many in Charm who took care to remind her
constantly.
Just
then, Mary Troyer pushed open the door to the post office. Darla braced
herself.
“You
have a lot of nerve, Darletta Kurtz, getting a job here,” Mary said as she
slapped a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “It’s bad enough that your family
stayed in town. Most folks would have left in shame after what your father did.
Yet, here you are, thriving.”
Each
word hurt, as Mary no doubt intended for them to. Darla thought she would have
been used to the verbal abuse by now, but it still felt as jarring as it had
the first time. Mary’s son Bryan had died in the same accident as Darla’s
father, and she took every opportunity to make sure everyone in town was aware
of her pain.
Just
as she had two days before, Darla did her best to keep her voice even and her
expression impassive. “What is it you’ll be needing today, Mary?”
Mary’s
cheeks puffed up before replying. “One book of stamps. The flags.”
Quickly
she gave Mary the stamps and her change, taking care to set the money on the
counter so their fingers wouldn’t have to touch. “Here you go.” Then—though she
would have rather said something, anything else—she added the words she’d heard
her boss say dozens of times: “Danke for
coming in.”
Mary
narrowed her eyes. “That is
all you’re gonna say?”
It
was obvious that Mary was itching for a fight. But no way was Darla going to
give it to her. She’d learned at least a couple of things in the ninety-nine
days since the accident at the mill.
And
even though she might be wishing Mary to perdition in her darkest moments, she
knew it was always best to turn the other cheek. “There’s nothing to say. Your
mind is made up to be angry with me.”
“My
‘mind’ has nothing to do with the facts. Everyone in Charm knows that your
father caused the fire at the mill. That fire killed my Bryan, Clyde Fisher,
Paul Beachy, and Stephen Kinsinger.”
Standing
as straight as her five-foot-two-inch frame allowed her to do, Darla added
quietly, “You forgot John Kurtz, Mary. My father died, too, you know.”
“All
of us are struggling with our losses. Struggling to make ends meet with our men
gone. But here you are almost every morning, standing behind this counter with
a smile on your face.”
Though
Mary wasn’t the first person to say such a thing to her—she wasn’t even the twenty-first—Darla
still didn’t understand why she should bear the weight of her father’s guilt.
Especially
since it had been proven that it hadn’t been just her father’s negligence that
had started the fire in the Dumpster. A variety of circumstances had taken
place, which, when combined, had created a powerful explosion.
A
rag, dampened by a flammable liquid, had been tossed into a Dumpster filled
with wood scraps and hot metal that had been left heating over the course of
the day. In no time at all, the rag had burst into flames, igniting the pine
kindling. Before anyone was truly aware of the fire, the Dumpster had exploded,
causing the nearby wood stacks in the back warehouse to catch fire, too. Though
the emergency sprinklers had come on and the fire department and ambulances had
been called, five people had died and scores of others had been injured.
Without
a doubt, it had been the worst disaster to ever occur at Kinsinger Lumber Mill,
and everyone who’d been there was marked by the terrible tragedy.
After
the accident, fire marshals had investigated and declared that it had been
caused by a series of unlikely events: a rare sunny day in December, hot metal
in the Dumpster, and a pile of pine that someone had discarded instead of
turning into wood shavings—all set ablaze by one rag.
No
single person was to blame.
Furthermore,
when Stephen Kinsinger’s son Lukas had taken over the mill, he’d publicly
forgiven her father. However, the speech had done little to change the general
feeling of anger and hurt that pervaded their village. It seemed that everyone
needed a scapegoat. And her father had given them one.
Now,
because John Kurtz was no longer walking God’s earth, more than a couple of
people had transferred their pain and anger onto Darla and the rest of her
family.
And
after ninety-nine days of it, she’d had her fill.
Shelley Shepard Gray is a New York Times and
USA Today bestselling author, a finalist for the American Christian Fiction
Writers prestigious Carol Award, and a two-time Hold Medallion winner. She
lives in southern Ohio, where she writes full-time, bakes too much, and can
often be found walking her dachshunds on her town’s bike trail.
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