pick up these previous titles in her
Amish Country Matches miniseries:
The Amish Matchmaking Dilemma
Their Amish Secret
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Keep reading for an excerpt from The Amish Nanny’s Promise by Amy Grochowski.
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The Amish Nanny’s Promise
by Amy Grochowski
Chapter One
Too soon, Nick Weaver opened his eyes to the shadowy light of predawn. Once again, he’d lain awake for hours, only to succumb to sleep shortly before his day was to begin. He pushed aside the handmade quilt, swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up.
He raked his fingers through his beard and then his thick, dark hair. Somehow, he had to be awake and somewhat presentable before Fern Beiler came to the house. Over the past two years, his late wife’s cousin had arrived like clockwork every morning of the week, except for the Sabbath, to care for his kinner while he ran his Amish grocery store.
And he supposed it was that routine that kept him going—second, of course, to his love for eight-year-old dochter, Bethany, and three-year-old sohn, Josh.
When he’d promised Charity to keep her memory alive for the kinner, he’d not imagined how difficult a vow it would be to abide by. The children had been so young and already their memories of their mamm were all but gone.
He’d promised because it seemed like the right thing to do, for one.
But he also knew Charity’s worst fears were for her children. And no wonder, the way her dat had replaced her mamm, when he remarried and moved away from their small Virginia mountain town to another Amish church district in the Shenandoah Valley. Charity had been left here in the highlands of Promise, Virginia, and lived with her grandmother Ada Beiler from infancy.
And so, Nick remained committed to staying single—at least until the kinner were older. And unlike most Amish, who rarely spoke of the deceased, he made certain to tell stories about their mamm, reminding them what she was like.
At first, that felt like enough. But on these long, sleepless nights, he feared he wasn’t getting this right. Something was off-kilter—something Charity would’ve pinpointed, just like Nick knew when his inventory at the store needed adjusting or whether a new grocery item or Amish novelty would sell. But Charity wasn’t here to guide where his instinct lacked.
He muffled a groan. Nothing would get solved by staying in bed. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his two palms before combing his fingers through the wavy tangle of his dark hair, then with a push against the mattress, he stood to meet the day.
The outline of his simple Amish bedroom came into focus around him. An arm’s length away stood the chair where he’d left his pants and suspenders to dress quickly. His light blue shirt, though it looked dark in the dim light, hung on a peg on the wall behind the chair.
Nick tiptoed in socked feet down the hallway. Stopping at the door to his eight-year-old daughter’s room, he peeked inside. Bethany’s long black hair lay in waves across her pillow. She slept on her back with her hands tucked under her head. Nick’s mini-me, Charity had called her.
Beside her a toddler-sized lump moved under the covers. Nick smiled. Josh began every night in his own room and somehow ended up with his sister by morning. He bore a strong resemblance to his mother’s kinfolk. The blond curls of his baby days were turning darker, to match his chocolate brown eyes.
With care not to wake them, Nick headed to the washroom. Leaning over the sink, he cupped his hands under the flowing spigot. The splash of ice-cold water against his face shocked the sleepless night from his system.
Downstairs in the kitchen, he fumbled around for the percolator. The cranky pot always gave him a fit. After a few weeks of drinking gritty kaffi, Fern had taken over and began preparing the pot before she went home each day. Since then, all he’d had to do was heat the stove and the kaffi practically made itself.
He pulled two mugs out of the cupboard and the cream from the icebox. From the window above the kitchen sink, he watched the horizon burst into a deep red along the crest of Promise Mountain. Soon the sun would follow above the ridgetop.
Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. So went the saying about bad weather to come after such a crimson sunrise, but the forecast in yesterday’s paper had called for clear skies all week.
He strummed his fingers on the counter. It was still too dark to see all the way to the house across the road to Ada Beiler’s cottage, where Fern had lived with her grandmother since he and Charity married.
A prick of worry niggled at his thoughts.
It bothered him that Fern traveled alone from her nursing duty at the Schrocks’ to her grandmother’s house at night. Promise had a reputation for being a safe community. But nighttime brought out the occasional troublemaker, even to their cozy Blue Ridge mountain hamlet. When he’d mentioned as much to Ada, he earned a sharp rebuke.
