The Amish Painter: 50 Shades of Amish Love, #1

By Rebecca Byler

The Amish Painter

50 Shades of Amish Love, Book 1: Amish Love Story

Mary has a secret from her family. On top of that she has fallen in Love with an Englisher. When her family discovers her secrets she runs away and by doing so she almost gets herself killed.

Will Mary be able to follow all the desires of her heart or will she choose to turn her back to everything she loves just to obey the rules?

The Amish Painter is Book 1 in the Amish Romance 50 Shades of Amish Love series.

All Rebecca Byler books are clean romances.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Byler
• Release date: Sep 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516358144

Book preview

50 SHADES OF AMISH LOVE

The Amish Painter

Amish Romance

50 Shades Of Amish Love, Book 1

Rebecca Byler

Copyright ©2015, Rebecca Byler

All Rights Reserved

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License Notes

This eBook is licensed for personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away to others. If you wish to share this book, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and it was not purchased then, you should purchase your own copy. Your continued respect for author's right is appreciated.

This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to people is purely coincidence. All places, names, events, business, etc. are used in a fictional manner. All characters are from the imagination of the author.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

More books by Rebecca Byler

50 SHADES OF AMISH LOVE

AMISH ROMANCE MYSTERY SUSPENSE

EVERLASTING AMISH LOVE

AMISH TEN COMMANDMENTS SERIES

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

List Of Amish Words

BONUS CHAPTER: LOVE ME LOVE MY HORSE

Prologue

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

"You will eat the fruit of your labor; blessings and prosperity will be yours." Psalm 128:2

I am having a hard time focusing on my chores, especially when it comes to finishing my grandfather’s cloak. I am not saying that I am not good at knitting. It is just, he is quite the perfectionist concerning the garments that Mamm and I used to make. To be honest, I’m quite anxious because I do not want to mess up his mood again. The last time I gave him my handiwork, he said nothing, obviously he was not too pleased with the outcome of my project. I want to show him I can also produce a quality product of my own. However, it seems like I will fail again this time. I am not even confident with my present for him myself.

How I wish I could also possess the golden hands of my familye, but I am not certain that is possible. They say your work reflects your passion and for me, that is obviously the case. What I really want to do is to paint, but nobody agrees to it.

It’s just a total waste of time, Mary, my Aunt used to say whenever we talked about my real interest.

Our folks are known for handmade clothes in our place and that is how we actually make a living. Therefore, I have no other choice but to submit myself to the culture, but secretly living my forbidden dream at the same time.

You are the most stubborn Amish person I’ve ever met, my schweschder, Lydia uttered as she saw me in the woods where I am hiding all my painting stuff. Ach! How did she find me here?

Please don’t tell anybody, I pleaded guiltily, approaching her like a child caught in the act. They’ll nag me for sure, I added.

Of course, they will! she hissed, stepping inside the improvised cabin I created as she shakes her head. You know what they think about this hobby of yours, she added, gesturing at the canvas near her.

I know, that’s why no one is supposed to know about this. Why are you here, anyway? How did you find me? I asked calmly but with a trace of irritation in my voice.

Obviously, I followed you, she uttered, totally determined to make me feel awful. I can sense you are doing something fishy and I wonder why you’re always missing during the daytime, she added.

You will not tell them about this, will you? I asked her hopefully while exaggeratedly extending my eyelashes fluttering like a lost kitten just to persuade her.

I will not mention it unless they ask me, she muttered, raising her eyebrow a bit. The way she looks at me I can’t help fearing her next action as we get back home. You know me, I never lie.

I can’t believe you’ll do that to your schweschder, I grumble like a child.

You should, she replied proudly. I’m just doing this for your own good, she added.

But... I started, trying to weigh my justification, but I cannot think of the right words to say. Lydia waited for me, her hands on her hips while urging me to go on. But no matter how hard I try, I am too dumb to speak out, so I just shake my head and drop the paintbrush in my hand.

What? she queried. Aren’t you supposed to defend yourself?

Sighing, I lead her out to the door made of torn branches and dried leaves, feeling totally down. Why does no one ever get my point? Painting really makes me happy. As expected, Lydia mirrored my movement and in no time, we are effortlessly getting out from the heart of the woods.

How can you tell what’s good for me or not? I asked her seriously, trying to contemplate the situation. I mean, knitting can make me grin, but my painting craft can make me smile through the heart. This interest of mine captures my whole being. I even forget it is about time to go home every time I am here.

Sometimes, being a Hershberger means living with the whole package... God-fearing, great handiwork, reputable, calm, and submissive. To be honest, I don’t know why I am afraid I don’t have these perfect qualities at all. And many times, I wonder if I will ever be good enough for the elders.

Every night, I used to stare at the stars above, wondering about my life. I can’t avoid thinking there could still be life waiting for me out there. I want to shout. I want to cry out loud. I want to run away and be gone for good. I long to be in a place where I can live like there’s no rules to follow and no eyes to please. I want to be free.

"How can you tell if that’s good for you then?" she asked back and like her, I have no concrete answer to offer.

I don’t know. It just feels so right, I said.

That’s it? she interrogated as if she is searching for further explanation.

For a while, we continue to walk without saying anything.

Life is not always about your feelings, Mary, she stated as she stopped at the enormous oak tree in front of us. Don’t you remember the teaching last Sunday? The Bible says, honor your father and your mother, as the Lord, your God, has commanded you, so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land the Lord your God is giving you, she quoted.

I stare at her blankly. What does she mean? Am I disrespectful to my parents and the elders in the familye? I don’t think so. I honor and respect them faithfully. Lydia nods, as if she can read my mind.

"Honor means obedience, Schweschder, she uttered without a pause. If you obey them, you will never be wrong. They know what’s best for you. If you listen, you will be successful in life. That is the Lord’s promise.

I rolled my eyes and said nothing. I know she will use her scriptures talent again and whenever she uses Divine Providence, I know I will lose the discussion. Let’s just say Lydia has a deeper understanding of our religion and that’s what my folks love about her.