Amish Trouble A Collection of Amish Romance

By Monica Marks

For Jessica, the small Amish town is the perfect place. She needs a place of non-judgment after she is just released from prison and wants to start her own bakery. What better place than Amish country?But after opening her bakery, she begins to experience the unexpected. Not everyone is ready to welcome an ex-convict and it seems someone is determined to destroy her dream of a second chance. Her bakery is vandalized and she's attacked from behind...But who is it? A woman in town that is jealous of all the male attention she's receiving? Or is it a person from her past determined to bring her back down?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jun 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201382308

Book preview

AMISH TROUBLE

MONICA MARKS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

AMISH TROUBLE

AMISH MADE

HER AMISH ROMANCE

AMBER & ABEL

AN AMISH HOMECOMING

ABIGAIL’S DILEMMA

SADIE’S AMISH PURPOSE

THE BIG AMISH ADVENTURE

Amish Trouble

Biting on her lower lip, Jessica stood back and eyed the sign critically, cocking her head to the side. It didn’t quite look right to her but she had a feeling that no matter what, she would always have the same complaint.

Seeing it filled her with a bittersweetness, a nervous guilt as if she was doing something wrong by hanging the piece of plastic on the front door.

Don’t be dumb. You have every right to be here, she chided herself. You did nothing wrong getting here. Everything was by the book and your paperwork is in order. All that’s left to do I reap what you sow.

But her mental pep talk didn’t help and she knew exactly why she was feeling the way she did. Too much of her sordid history still haunted her, too many ghosts whispering in her head.

Open for business finally? a voice behind her asked. She whirled around, startled by the unexpected sound of another and forced a weak smile as she recognized one of the nearby business owners. Actually, Amos was the only business owner she could think of in the vicinity, the bakery on the far outskirts of Elkhart. It hadn’t been her first choice for purchase but for the price, she couldn’t easily refuse.

Yes, she told Amos Miller. Finally indeed.

The Amish man nodded She let out a nervous laugh but Amos barely managed a beam of his own and as always, Jessica couldn’t help but feel like she was under intense scrutiny. It wasn’t just Amos who made her feel that way—half of Elkhart did. The other half, well, she hadn’t met yet.

Give them time and I’m sure I’ll be equally uncomfortable around everyone.

"Very gud," he told her, ambling past her on the sidewalk, meaning to be on his way without another word. Jessica found herself staring after him, wondering if he was genuinely happy for her or if he was just being polite. It was hard to tell, particularly when her own conscience kept gnawing away at her.

Amos! she called out after him. The man paused and cast her a look over his shoulder, the straw of his hat falling forward to block her direct view of his eyes. It made it difficult to know what he was thinking.

Who are you kidding? You never know what Amos is thinking. You barely even know what you’re thinking half the time.

"Ja?" Amos asked, peering back at her curiously.

W-would you like to be my first customer? Jessica stammered. The first customer is free.

She didn’t know why she was asking him. If the man wanted to come into the bakery, he would have done just that, wouldn’t he? It was clear he had things to do, business of his own to conduct. But the words had fallen from her lips as if someone else had said them and there was no taking them back now.

Maybe it was the thought of being alone as she waited for her first customer that alarmed her. She knew that she was off the beaten path and while she’d budgeted some for advertising, she had no way of knowing who she’d reached with her fliers and online presence.

She watched as a refusal moved to spring from Amos’ mouth but he seemed to change his mind when he read her expression.

Don’t pressure him. Leave the man alone, she thought, readying herself for the rejection. To her surprise, the opposite occurred.

"Ja, okay, he agreed. I can take a small break from making candles."

Relief overwhelmed her and she opened the glass door, allowing him to enter. Amos had been one of the first people she’d met when she’d begun renovations on the café, over three months earlier. The work had taken longer than Jessica would have liked and what had seemed like a smart business opportunity at first was quickly becoming a money pit.  The contractors had seen a young heiress without much business sense and taken full advantage of her. There had been little Jessica could do but sit back and watch her inheritance evaporate as quickly at the cigarettes the workers endlessly smoked.

Amos had sauntered by, eying the mess curiously and Jessica had called him in, desperate for contact that didn’t involve yelling at her contractors.

They had become tentative friends, the man stopping by to check on the progress and slowly introducing her to the others in the community, both Amish and English. It had been Amos who had ultimately found her Amish workers to complete the job that her unionized workers refused to do in a timely fashion and Jessica would be forever indebted to him for that.

You shouldn’t be giving away your products, Amos chided her gently, taking a seat at one of the old-fashioned swivel stools at the counter. You need to make up for all the money you spent in renovations.

Jessica grimaced at the reminder but she shook her head, pouring a freshly made pot of coffee into a new mug emblazoned with her logo.

It will all come together, she assured him with far more confidence than she felt. And one coffee and one muffin won’t make a difference either way.

Amos raised a dark eyebrow skeptically as she pushed a plate toward him.

One becomes two, he warned and Jessica grinned at him.

I’m sure you have given away candles to people who have helped you, she replied. Anyway, you’re doing me a favor by being here. It makes it look busy and when people see a busy place, they always want to investigate.

Amos didn’t reply as he took a sip of his coffee, the black beads catching on the hairs of his beard. When he set the mug down, he met Jessica’s eyes and she realized with embarrassment that she had been staring at him with too much intensity.

You’re nervous, he observed.

Me? No, she lied, backing up from the counter to rest her hands against the stainless steel behind her. I’m excited.

You don’t need to be nervous even though I understand why you are.

Jessica blinked, the smile frozen on her lips.

Why should I be nervous? she insisted. This was my dream and now I’m living it.

Amos shook his head.

I’m sure your dream didn’t include opening your café so close to that...that...

He paused, his brow knitting as if he was searching for the English word.

That prison house?

Jessica felt her stomach drop and the beam slipped completely off her face.

Halfway house, she corrected quietly. And they aren’t hurting anyone by being there.

Amos shook his head, his eyes darkening.

A house full of criminals can’t be good news for Elkhart, he insisted. "I don’t know why they would set it up here in such a Gotte fearing town."

Jessica smothered the words that she wanted to bark back.

Doesn’t following God’s law mean loving everyone, even those who have screwed up?

Somehow, she managed to hold her tongue.

I’m sure— she started to say but her words were cut off as the bell over the entrance door dinged and a woman entered in a huff of anger. Her eyes glittered contemptuously as she folded her arms over the front of her apron.

There you are! Amelia Miller spat. "I’ve been waiting at the shop for you for over an hour and you’re off drinking kaffi?!"

Sheepishly, Amos looked at his wife and rose from the stool, casting Jessica an apologetic look.

Amelia, stay, Jessica begged, knowing that the woman would refuse. Everything is fresh and I just opened—

"Kumme along, Amos, Amelia interjected without so much as a look in Jessica’s direction. Your familye needs you."

The emphasis on the words was not lost on Jessica and she wondered, not for the first time, if Amelia was jealous of the time her husband spent with her.

That’s just crazy, Jessica thought helplessly, watching her friend amble after his incensed wife. I have no designs on Amos or anyone else!

But there was no point in explaining that to Amelia. The woman barely acknowledged her presence when they were in the same room, as if she thought Jessica wasn’t good enough.

"Glick," Amos called, waving briskly as he disappeared.

Yeah, Jessica sighed to the empty restaurant. I’m going to need good luck, aren’t I?

~ ~ ~

To her delight and surprise, the opening day ended up being decent in terms of volume. Her advertisements had reached most of Elkhart and while she didn’t see many Amish customers, she had a fair amount of English, people she hadn’t met before.

Jessica busied herself with coffee orders and food preparation. She realized that she wasn’t going to be able to handle the flow of customers on her own, not at that volume and not when she had to take hot food orders too.

You look so familiar to me, a handsome young man told her when she handed him his bagel and coffee. His hand lingered on hers and she met his eyes warily, feeling a hot flush creep up the pale skin of her neck.

Do I? she mumbled. I-I must have one of those faces.

No... he drawled, his face twisting into a grimace as if it pained him to remember. I swear I’ve seen you before...

Quickly snatching her hand back, she shook her head and hastily began to wipe the counter, even though she’d only done it a few minutes earlier.

Sorry. I’m new to Elkhart, she told him.

At least that’s true.

Yeah, me too, the man replied slowly but he seemed to realize that he was behaving in a way that made her uncomfortable and shot her a wry smile. I don’t suppose you’re from Chicago?

Jessica felt her breaths grow jagged and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

What are the chances? She wondered, gnawing on the insides of her cheeks. What are the chances that I’d be recognized from Chicago?

No, she lied. I’m not.

Good, the young man chuckled. Chicago women are too high maintenance.

He winked to show he was joking and Jessica was saved from having to respond when the door opened again, this time announcing three women. She was not one to judge anyone on their looks, her own history dictating that she had no right to do anything of the sort. Even so, Jessica knew these women were from the halfway house that had opened half a mile away.

Good afternoon, Ladies, she said brightly, turning toward them. What can I get for you?

Anything but the slop they’re feeding us down the road, one of them muttered and her companions laughed. Jessica felt her shoulders relax, feeling in better company with the newcomers than with the man who still lingered near the counter. She wished he would leave but he made no indication of moving, his presence unnerving her somewhat.

Oh, this looks good, the small blonde announced, pointing at the display case. I’ll have an éclair.

Me too, her taller companion agreed.

You ladies from the halfway house? the man asked rudely. Jessica was taken aback by his blunt question and immediately, the visibly women tensed.

So what? the apparent leader of the group demanded. What about it?

The man shrugged, a slight sneer forming on his lips.

Just asking.

Jessica felt her blue eyes narrow but before she could interject, the biggest woman advanced on the man.

Do you go around asking stupid questions to all the women you meet or are we just special? she spat.

Dana... the little blonde squeaked.

What Liz? If he can ask questions, so can I.

Liz eyed Jessica apologetically but Jessica could feel the tension mounting. She turned briskly toward the man.

Is there anything else you need? she asked pointedly. He balked at the clear dismissal, his mouth forming a line of annoyance.

I thought this would be a classy place but I guess I was wrong, he growled, snatching up his purchases and making his way toward the door.

I guess you were! Dana yelled out after him.

Sorry about that, Jessica murmured, forcing a smile onto her face. Now, what can I get you?

I lost my appetite, Dana muttered, falling back to fold her arms over her chest.

Don’t be like that, the unnamed woman sighed. Just order something.

I’d rather go to Country Style, Dana insisted and her friends reluctantly backed away, shaking their heads. Dana gave Jessica a scathing look as though it was her fault the customer had openly attacked them.

Let’s go then, Liz mumbled, turning away again but not without giving Jessica one last wistful look.

You could have said something, you know? Dana snapped as she led the way out the door. Maybe this place is too fancy for us.

They were gone as quickly as they’d come and Jessica was left staring after them in dismay.

I’m on your side, she thought, gritting her teeth as she replaced the tray with the eclairs. After all, I was you not long ago.

~ ~ ~

Coliver! You’re out of here, the guard yelled. Jessica’s head jerked up at the sound of her name, her heart thudding wildly in her chest.

What? she breathed. I’m what?

The tall guard chuckled mirthlessly.

You made parole, she replied, unlocking the cell. You’re a free woman.

Jessica glanced at her cell mate, her face displaying pure shock but Andrea only smiled warmly.

Go knock ‘em dead, girl, Andi told her. This is your second chance. Don’t waste it.

Jessica shuffled forward, her body trembling in anticipation as she accepted the plastic bag being thrust into her arms. Inside it was all the items she’d come into the prison with, five years earlier.

Your celly is right, the guard told her as Jessica followed her out of the block. Not many people would get a second chance after what you did so don’t screw it up.

I won’t, Jessica promised, her voice catching in her windpipe.

Make sure you keep your meetings with your parole officers and stay out of trouble, the woman intoned. It won’t take much to throw you back in here, not after what you did.

Jessica felt her jaw tighten but she wisely held her tongue. There was no point in explaining that it had all been a terrible, tragic accident.

Maybe it wasn’t that tragic. After all, if I hadn’t killed Simon, he would have killed me—eventually.

They paused at the gates.

What are you going to do now, Coliver? the guard asked her, a note of curiosity in her voice. Jessica thought of the inheritance waiting for her in the bank account her dad had left.

I’m going to meet with my parole officer, she muttered.

Nah, the woman chuckled. I mean, with your life.

Slowly, Jessica raised her head and met the guard’s eyes.

First I’m going to