Amish Love Be Kind 3-Book Boxed Set Read online

  AMISH LOVE BE KIND BOXED SET

  PEACE VALLEY BOXED SETS

  BOOK 2

  RACHEL STOLTZFUS

  Copyright © 2017 RACHEL STOLTZFUS

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1543151138

  ISBN-10: 1543151132

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  AMISH LOVE BE KIND

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  AMISH LOVE BE PATIENT

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  AMISH LOVE BE TRUE

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  AMISH SEEDS OF CHANGE

  A WORD FROM RACHEL

  ENJOY THIS BOOK? You can make a big difference

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  AMISH LOVE BE KIND

  Pushed too far, an Amish woman must stand up for herself to save her marriage.

  When Hannah married Abram, she imagined a happy home full of beautiful children, and a marriage she and her husband would treasure into their old age. But her husband has a secret that he hides from himself and a temper but he can't control. Hannah wants to be a good wife, but to do that, she needs Abram to be a good husband. When he pushes Hannah one step too far, will she have the strength to stand up for herself and their unborn child?

  Chapter 1

  Hannah stood in front of the stove where two loaves of bread were waiting to be sliced. A warm breeze came in through the open window, carrying with it the smell of tomato plants from the garden. Hannah looked carefully at her husband, Abram Beiler, trying to gauge his mood. Not good. Thinking quickly, she moistened dry lips and opened her mouth. “Nee, husband. I have no objections. Except...”

  Abram’s thick, blond eyebrows lowered as he frowned. “Except for...what?” His voice carried a warning for those who were attuned to it, which Hannah was intimately.

  Hannah wished she didn’t have to be afraid of her husband. But experience had taught her the necessity of caution. “Except for...” She took a deep breath and tried to smile. “It’s just... we should just try to leave as early as we can.” He raised his hand. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her cheek as the Bible said to do with her enemies – why did her husband choose to act as her enemy—as Abram hit her on her left cheek.

  “Husband! Please, don’t—”

  Crack! Abram hit her again on the right cheek. This time she felt even more pain since his knuckles slammed into her face. This was worse than he’d ever done before. Her right cheek began to throb and burn, and she covered it with one hand.

  “Do you think I hadn’t thought of that already, Hannah? Ya, of course we are leaving early! After all, it’s a long way to Philadelphia, even by car!” Abram stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

  Hannah leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. One hand rested on her throbbing cheek while the other covered the slight swell of her pregnancy. As she tried to regain composure, she thought about what could have happened to the baby. Where can I go? What can I do? I need to protect this child, but I don’t want to embarrass Abram or myself.

  Both sides of her face throbbed. Moving slowly, she went upstairs. Finding the small hand mirror in the bathroom, she observed the reddened area. It would soon become a livid bruise, embarrassing her and her husband at services. Setting the mirror back into the drawer, she washed her face with cold water and tried to regain her composure again. She couldn’t go to services the next day. The bruise would be evident.

  Eventually, she made it back to the kitchen and worked as quickly as she could to get supper on the table as was her duty as a good wife. Which she desperately wanted to be, a good wife and mother. But even so, Abram hit her. He hit her even as she carried his child. Then she had a terrible thought. What if Abram hit their daughter or son?

  No, he wouldn’t. He only hit her because he lost his temper. She had always been mouthy. And forgetful, and at times clumsy. She would simply have to work hard and do better.

  When Abram returned, he would have a powerful hunger to fill. Normally, cooking or baking filled her with joy and satisfaction, but not today. She didn’t know what kind of mood Abram would be in when he came back into the house, and she didn’t know what she could do to fix it.

  After setting the chicken into the oven to roast, Hannah tore off a piece of paper towel. Again and again, she patted tears away from her now-sore cheeks. She needed to cheer up. Cultivate a peaceful soul, if not for herself than for her baby. Stuffing the moist paper towel into her apron pocket, she continued making supper. She was thankful to be just finishing setting the table when Abram came back into the house.

  Abram was quiet and uncharacteristically shy as he looked at Hannah. Her nose was red and her cheeks, both of them, were yellowing in twin, sickly bruises. While he had yelled at her in the past, this was the first time he had hit her with a closed fist. He knew that was wrong. Against Gott. “Wife, I am so sorry. I don’t know what got into me... I know you’re right that we have to be up earlier than usual to leave on Monday.” He waited for her to respond. She had better say something. He didn’t want to be angry. He didn’t like the fire of his rages, and he hated that she compelled him to hurt her.

  Finally, Hannah looked up at him. “Abram, you scared me!” She blurted out. “If you’re angry with me, let’s just discuss it without raising our voices...or striking each other. I understand what you’re telling me.” She blinked rapidly, tears falling as she sobbed.

  Abram felt even guiltier than he had before. He rushed to Hannah, pulling her into his arms. As she sobbed, he cried, too. “Hannah, I’m so sorry!” Gently, he moved her head back and looked into her teary eyes. The bruise was uglier up close, and he gasped. “Wife, did I...do that?”

  Hannah looked at Abram in disbelief and pulled out of his arms. Putting her hand protectively over her cheek, she nodded. It was with an effort that she avoided covering her abdomen.

  Again, Abram grabbed Hannah in his arms. Resting his face against her shoulder, he sobbed hard. “I am so sorry! I won’t do that again. I promise.”

  Hannah heard a strange sizzling sound from the stove and realized the vegetables had run out of water. “Abram! Supper! I need to get the vegetables served!” She dislodged herself from his arms and pulled the saucepan of mixed vegetables off the burner, scooping them into the waiting bowl. After dropping some butter into the vegetables, she set them on the table, along with the coffee pot.

  Abram seemed to struggle to get a grip over his emotions. Inhaling deeply, he looked at what Hannah had made. “Roasted chicken? That looks wunderbaar!” His smile was fake, but the words were honest.

  Hannah saw the effort he was making and tried to make one o
f her own. They were husband and wife, and while he might lose his temper, it was her job to make a peaceful home for them and the family they would build together. “Denki.” She forced a smile. “Your favorites. And for dessert, we’re having peach cobbler. I want to use the last of the peaches before I put up the new crop.”

  “Mmmm, it all smells so gut!” It was an awkward meal of mostly chewing and false smiles. After supper, Abram retreated back to the barn, where he worked on his horseshoeing equipment. After working for nearly an hour, he knew he was finished and couldn’t avoid the inevitable. Retracing his steps again, he found Hannah sitting in their living room, crocheting one of the blankets for their first child. “Are you ready for meeting tomorrow?”

  Hannah’s hook slowed its movements as she gazed at Abram in confusion. “Husband, I can’t go to—”

  “Why? Why can’t you go?”

  Swallowing deeply, Hannah stood and edged her way to the front door. “Abram, I’m going to have a bruise on my face by tomorrow. There’s no way for me to hide it, so I have to stay home.”

  Abram’s voice rose to a rumbling roar as he strode toward Hannah. He wasn’t going to let this foolishness destroy their relationship with Gott. People would talk more if they didn’t attend services. They’d whisper and wonder about his role as a husband. “Wife! I am the head of the house, and I decide what happens! You are going to service with me tomorrow!” Almost of its own volition, Abram’s right arm rose to strike Hannah again.

  Hannah backed up, cowering. “Abram! You promised you wouldn’t hit me! Let’s just talk about it! Please!”

  Something in Abram remained rational and he heard the fear in Hannah’s voice. Closing his eyes, he let his arm drop back to his side. Swallowing his anger back, he sighed heavily. “Okay, let’s talk. But I am not changing my mind. I want you at service with me tomorrow.”

  Hannah walked cautiously to the kitchen, keeping her level of awareness high, just in case Abram lost control again. Raising her shaking hand to the cupboard, she pulled two mugs down and prepared coffee for Abram. Putting water into the teakettle, she put that on the stove to boil for herbal tea for herself. Then, sitting, she faced her husband. “Abram, I know you want me to attend meeting with you tomorrow. But I’m going to have an obvious bruise by morning.”

  “Hide it with a bonnet. You don’t take it off, anyway.”

  “People will still see.”

  Abram closed his eyes as he forced his anger down. “Wife, please. It’s a part of my role as your husband to make sure that you are a gut Amish woman. That you make the right decisions.”

  Hannah nodded, not wanting to set Abram’s temper off. “Ya, I know, husband. I just don’t want anyone saying anything about you—about us or our marriage.”

  Abram was silenced. She cares about how others view us, and maybe she is right. They will talk either way. But still... “Please, Hannah. Go with me. I’m doing everything I can to hold my temper back here. Don’t antagonize me. This is what I’ll do. If anyone asks me anything, I’ll just say that you hit something hard. It is the truth.” Shamefully, Abram regarded the knuckles of his hands.

  Hannah gave up. Sighing, she assented to going to meeting with him the next day. “Fine. I’ll go. But if anyone is suspicious, I don’t know what I’ll be able to say.” Seeing the fast anger crossing Abram’s handsome face, she backtracked. “Okay! I’ll say I fell and hit the edge of the dining room table.” Hopefully the other bruise would be slight, otherwise someone perceptive might ask how she had hit the table twice.

  The remainder of the evening was quiet and tense as she sipped her hot, herbal tea. As Abram finished the coffee in the pot, he thought about their relationship.

  When he had asked for permission to begin dating Hannah, he had been attracted to her independence and high spirits, finding her to be different from the shy, quiet girls in Peace Valley. She was also devout. As he got to know Hannah, he fell in love with her, knowing that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. After they married, he found his attitude about her independence changing. Now, he wanted her to defer totally to him. And as for her high spirits, he wanted her to restrain them in public. And, if she didn’t...

  Sighing, Abram gazed into the living room, watching Hannah quietly at work on her crocheting. Thinking of how he had hit her that afternoon, Abram felt his stomach wrench in disgust. He didn’t know anyone who had ever hit someone in the community, not with a fist. He was aware of a very small voice at the edge of his consciousness, whispering about the Peer Council. He shuddered, not wanting anyone to know what had happened that day. If he was completely honest, this pattern had been building since their wedding. “Wife, I’m going to bed. You should, too.”

  “Ya, husband, I’ll be there in a minute. I need to finish this row.” She raised the soft blanket, indicating that she had a few inches left to go.

  “Okay, just don’t take too long.” Rinsing his cup and washing the coffee pot, Abram dried them and put them away. Upstairs, he lay in bed, continuing to think. He wanted to stop yelling at Hannah. And he definitely didn’t want to hit her! She was to be the mamm of their children. How could he show them the value of living a peaceful life if he was causing chaos?

  Hearing Hannah coming upstairs, he sighed again and watched as she came into their bedroom. She was beautiful, soft curves and a sweet, almost angelic face with bright blue eyes. Bright when she wasn’t crying. He loved the sweetness of her lips and how her perceptive comments brought a smile to his heart. Or had, before the stress of running their own household set them against each other. As she got ready for bed, he watched her, feeling absolutely shamed about how he had treated the woman he loved.

  Hannah went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She inspected her cheek in the hand mirror once again. Both bruises were taking on a greenish hue, especially the one on her left cheek. Hopefully they’d wait a couple of days before purpling. She wished she was free to use cosmetics to hide it, but vanity was a sin and using cosmetics was a sure sign of vanity.

  In the bedroom, she slipped under the covers, warming her cold feet. “It’s going to be a cold night tonight.”

  “Hannah, I am so sorry. I lost control of myself this afternoon. I won’t let it happen again.” His voice was low and despondent.

  “Abram, what you did frightened me. Not only because you hit me, but also because of the baby. If you had hit my body...” Hannah’s voice trailed off as she looked at her husband.

  Thinking of the baby he wanted so badly, Abram’s face crumpled and he began to cry. He slipped his arm over Hannah’s still-slender waist, feeling the slight bulge of the baby in her growing bellly. Resting his forehead against her shoulder, he tried to get control of his emotions. Letting out a long, shuddering sigh, he wiped his face with the pillowcase. “It won’t happen again.”

  Maybe it wouldn’t. He seemed genuinely contrite. Crying even. He’d never cried about his behavior before. With a spark of her old spirit, Hannah backed away. “Nee, Abram, it won’t. We can discuss things like the adults that we are. We are married and supposed to be working together as life partners! I can’t do that if I am afraid that you’re going to hit me. I can see us getting into discussions and even arguments. I know my mamm and daed did that, but they always managed to work things out without using fists or hurtful words.” Now, she sat up, dislodging Abram’s arm from her waist. It was her job to create a peaceful household, but he had to help. Or at least not make things worse. They’d promised each other forever, and she meant to keep her word.

  Abram sat up, feeling frustrated, yet somewhat grateful for her show of strength. “Do you know why I do that?”

  “Ya, because you are the head of our household. But, talking about our parents again, they work together to make decisions.”

  Abram frowned, keeping up with Hannah’s words and logic. “Okay. I can see where I made mistakes, wife. I’ll do better. From now on, I won’t yell...and I definitely won’t hit you.�
�

  The silence in the bedroom lengthened as Hannah looked at her husband’s sad face. She cupped his cheek, the hair of his growing, married beard soft against her palm. Kindness, that was what they both needed to show. She smiled, with real emotion. “Gut. I will hold you to this.” Lying down, she covered herself against the chill air in the bedroom. He lay a hand on her hip, but she couldn’t bring herself to wifely affection now. She rolled onto one side, presenting Abram with her back.

  Abram looked at Hannah’s slim back. He deserved this, and he knew it. The next morning, as he came into the house, he nodded silently as he saw Hannah in her church dress and apron. Looking at the sideboard in the kitchen, he saw her black bonnet waiting there. “Gut. Denki for agreeing to go to services with me.” He ate, telling Hannah that the omelets she had made were delicious.

  “Thank you. I found a recipe for a Western omelet that uses vegetables and diced ham.”

  They ate in silence from that point, eyes averted, only the scrape of steel tines over plates betraying their presence to each other.

  AT THE SERVICE, HANNAH entered the Yoder’s house with her head downcast. She didn’t want to let anyone see her face. Quietly, she set down the vegetable platter and homemade bread she was contributing. Because she was looking down, she wasn’t aware of just who noticed her injured cheek. Sitting in the women’s section, she sighed with relief as she felt her mamm, Ruth Zook, sitting next to her.

  “Hannah, what happened to your face?” Ruth was worried, and this came out in her voice.

  “I...fell.” Lying was a sin, but what else could she do. Abram had promised, with tears, not to hit her again. She owed it to their marriage to hide the truth. “I hit...it was stupid of me.” She tugged her bonnet further down over her face so the livid bruise wouldn’t show.

  Ruth had long been worried about Hannah’s safety. After her daughter had married Abram, Ruth had come to the Beiler’s house. She’d heard Abram’s raised voice, railing at Hannah. Ruth had vowed to keep a close eye on Hannah, praying for her safety. And, when she had announced that she and Abram were expecting their first baby, she rejoiced and worried by turns. Now? She was even more worried. “Daughter, come outside. We still have a little while before the service begins. Come.” Ruth rose and held her hand out for Hannah’s hand.