Truly, Madly, Amish An Anthology of Amish Romance

By Hannah Winstone

Mary is trying to get her bearings back after her husband disappears one day, leaving her only a brief note. She's left to raise their young son together and swears off men...until she takes a trip into town and meets a handsome carpenter. But he's an Englischer and she doesn't take his advances seriously. Can she learn to let Gott's will work his way back into her and realize that maybe this man is just what she needs? James is a friendly man and can't understand why Mary isn't responding to his overtures. He only wants to help but she cannot accept that he's a sincere gentleman...he can sense that she's attracted to him but he cannot move past the fence she's built around her heart. Can he be patient enough to keep trying?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jun 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201357726

Book preview

TRULY, MADLY, AMISH

HANNAH WINSTONE

TABLE OF CONTENTS

TRULY,MADLY,AMISH

ACTING AMISH

Mary shifted in her bed, blinking back to consciousness with a wince. Something had woken her up, but in her sleep-fogged state she couldn't figure out what. Reaching out a hand, she searched for her husband - only to find the bed empty.

Victor often got up in the middle of the night; the kind of person who slept poorly and would rather sit downstairs than toss and turn. But the bed was cold, his side of the covers still uncreased - as if it hadn't been slept in at all.

Sitting up, Mary felt a little jolt of worry run through her. In the darkness, her room wasn't much more than a shapeless, murky mass, but nothing looked out of place. Except for the side table, where Victor's favoured watch usually sat. Squinting in the darkness, she realised it was gone. 

There was something else too, niggling at the back of her mind. Ears straining, Mary listened to the silence. Distantly, as if like a dream, she heard the rustle of movement downstairs. And then, even quieter, the tiny, muffled cries of a child. Simon. Relief flooded her - Simon was downstairs, perhaps recovering from a nightmare. Victor was downstairs soothing his son. 

Everything was all right.

Climbing from the bed, Mary donned a long sleeping robe and crept into the hallway. Simon's cries grew louder and her heart wrenched - but knowing nothing was serious, knowing Victor was downstairs with him, allowed her a sigh of relief. Padding downstairs, she peeked into the living room.

No Victor. That was the first thing she noticed. Simon wasn't allowed to handle the kerosene lamps on his own, and the lack of light was another worrying sign that Victor wasn't nearby. The room was empty, save for the huddled form of her son, half hidden behind an enormous hand-knitted blanket.

Simon?

Choking on his own sobs, he fell silent. He hadn't cried like this since he was a baby - her heart pained for him, worry creasing her forehead. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Simon, she repeated softly, settling onto the sofa beside him. When Mary reached out to tug the blanket down, he only sank farther into it. What's wrong? she murmured. Then, where's your father?

He muttered something too quiet to hear, burrowing so deep into the covers it was like he wanted to disappear. She couldn't see him at all save for his mess of blond hair.  Then, a hand stuck out from the covers to point toward the side table.

Mary followed his gaze, worry only deepening. Her palms were beginning to sweat, discomfort settling heavily in her gut. There, on the side table, sat a folded note. Pulse pounding, Mary reached for it.

Within seconds, she knew exactly what it was. Her eyes skimmed it, stomach rolling and sickness rising in her throat.

Mary,

I'm leaving. Or I suppose, if you're reading this, I'm already gone. Living here, with you, isn't the life I want any more. We haven't been happy in years, so you cannot blame me. You might think sneaking away in the night it cowardly or cruel; but try to think of it as me saving us both from the heartache.

Know that this is best for the both of us. Tell Simon what you think is best; tell the truth or lie as you see fit. He'll miss me, but he's young. Children bounce back quickly.

Don't look for me. I won't be coming back.

Victor.

Tears sprang to her eyes, blurring her vision. He had... left? In the night,