Lost Creek

By Bonnie Williams

Ingrid is an Amish young woman that was the victim of parental abuse. She was left broken and has withdrawn from society, no matter how much people try to force her to interact. But along comes a young man who takes a liking to her as he enters the Amish community seeking to change his own life. Can they help each other find peace and did Gott bring them together for more than just friendship?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jul 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201005122

Book preview

LOST CREEK

––––––––

BONNIE WILLIAMS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LOST CREEK

SUGAR GROVE

Lost Creek

His fist connected to her cheek, sending the 16-year-old flying to the floor. Ingrid sobbed as the stinging sensation warmed her face. It felt like live wires of pain surged through her face. She coward underneath her father's coal like eyes. What were normally cold black orbs had embers of hate in them.

Where were you? He demanded in his kingly voice.

Ingrid's bottom lip trembled. She couldn't make a sound. Her father rubbed his head like he was trying to squish it. He looked more like a possessed man than ever before. He focused back on her.

Just like your useless brothers. You were going to leave, weren't you?

No, father—

Don't talk back to me!

Ingrid meekly clamped her mouth shut. Her heart hammered inside her chest. She wanted to cry like she was five again. Her father, once ruler of this household, had become a terrifying tyrant. The death of his wife and the abandonment of his son had left him a bitter man. She felt so weak.

Her father looked at the bundle of clothes that fell to the ground with Ingrid. He suddenly put two and two together. Ingrid was simply at the creek washing clothes. She hadn't left like her brothers.

He looked at her, not exactly apologetic, but at the very least, his face softened.

Go to your room.

Ingrid was happy enough to obey. Being the only daughter of Solomon Fisch, she was fortunate to have a room to herself. It gave her a chance to act out her crazy delusions without being forced to see an exorcist. Ingrid was sure she wasn't possessed, even though she wrote letters to a dead woman. She took out her paper and quill and began thusly.

Dear Mother,

I can only hope that the Good Lord passes my message unto you. I know I'm not worthy of such a task, but I still feel the need to speak. 

Father is getting worse with each passing day. I fear Jacob's and William's betrayal has left him untrusting. He thinks I'm going to leave Rosebud too.

I pray for them. They left the Amish community. Who knows where they are now? Garth is your only son left. He moved out into his own house that he built himself, as he should. Still, I miss him. I haven’t seen him in months. I can only pray that he doesn't follow in their footsteps. Who else can carry out the Fisch name?

Father's punches are the same as ever. Yet I'm worried he's getting weaker. He refuses to eat enough. He spends all of his time working on the same project. I think it gives him comfort to do something with his hands—Ingrid pressed up against her cheek. It still hurt—Talk to God. Tell Him to grant us mercy. Please Mother. I know I'm asking for a lot.

She folded up her note, took her candle and dipped the wax. When she finished pressing the seal in, she placed the letter inside her drawer. It was her collection of secrets.

The rest of the morning was quiet. Perhaps Gott already heard her prayers and gave her a moment of repast. She fiddled with her quilt work without thought when her father called out to her.

Ingrid. Come here, his voice commanded. Was that a hint of sadness in his tone? She dropped everything to do as she was told. Ingrid's grim face brightened to pleasure when she saw the most welcomed guest imaginable.

Ahoy, Ingrid. It’s so nice to see you, Garth flashed a grin at her. His grey eyes filled her with warmth,