{Book Spotlight: First Chapter Reveal & Ebook Giveaway} Creche by Karin Cox

Release Date: November 11, 2013

Book Blurb:

Still grieving the loss of Joslyn and the Sphinx Sabine, and craving revenge upon Beltran, his Vampire nemesis, Amedeo the Cruxim is destined to learn more about his past in the sequel to Karin Cox's critically acclaimed gothic paranormal romance Cruxim.

When he meets a female of his own kind, Skylar, who takes him to the hidden stronghold of Silvenhall Creche to learn Cruxim lore, the secrets revealed in the holy book of the Cruximus, and the lies told to him by his own kind, force Ame to question who he is really is, where his loyalties lie, and whether there is anything he desires more than vengeance.

About the Author:

Karin Cox edits and writes in her "spare time" while being a fulltime mum to a toddler and to a black cat with the improbable name of "Ping Pong."

She is the author of more than 30 trade-published natural history books, biographies, Australian social history books, children's picture storybooks, and travel guides, several of which have won awards. Karin has had poems and short stories published in anthologies worldwide and her ebooks CRUXIM, GROWTH, CAGE LIFE, HEY LITTLE SISTER and PANCAKES ON SUNDAY are available on Amazon.

Thankfully, the busier she gets, the more creative she is (and the more likely to afford to hire a housekeeper). Karin and her partner live in sunny Queensland, Australia, where she writes from her back deck overlooking the pool, her study (overlooking her messy desk) or her couch (overlooking Dr Phil, who gives her a lot of inspiration). You can follow her on twitter @Authorandeditor or visit her fanpage on Facebook www.facebook.com/KarinCox.Author. Also, feel free to email her on cruxim@hotmail.com.

First Chapter Reveal:

“Come.” The female Cruxim put out her hand to me, but I made no move to take it. I shrank away, as if her touch might scar me, even as some force greater than myself seemed to tug me toward her.

“Why should I follow you?”

She shrugged. “Why would you not?”

I passed my hand over my face, the sand scratching at the makings of a beard. That I felt it at all—that I felt anything—hurt me. I wanted nothingness, to be as blank and empty and ephemeral as a wave that might turn and roll far back out to sea, where the tortured statue of my Sphinx love, Sabine, had yesterday plummeted to the ocean’s depths. I half wished that instead of diving for her, I had flown at my enemy Beltran, the Vampire orchestrator of all of my sorrows, and had plunged my fangs into his neck. That I had ended it, and him, for good. Instead, once more Beltran had beaten me. Once more, he had escaped me. Once more, he had destroyed me.

“I don’t know you.” I vomited saltwater into the sand, but when I looked up, she was still standing, watching, her face a beautiful but indifferent mask.

“Leave me!” I flung one arm toward the sea. “I do not wish to know you.” But the eyes I turned on her were as curious as her own.

Her mouth quirked up a little at one corner, and then she answered. “You may … one day. I already know you.”

“Stalking is not knowing. Being Cruxim is not knowing.” I snorted. “You know nothing of me. You think you know me from seeing me once, in a circus—on a cross and in a cage. Why did you not come to poke and wonder at me then, like all of the others?”

“Very well.” The grace of her stride, as she turned away, highlighted the litheness of her body. Her hair swung like silver silk over her shoulders, catching the sparkle off the ocean.

My grief craved her departure, longed for loneliness, but the thought of having nothing and no one—not Sabine nor Joslyn, nor this mysterious female with eyes that shone like a mirror—terrified me.

Almost as much, it terrified me that she might know me.

She was the only one of my own kind I had ever seen, outside of my dead mother, my infant sister and her sullen father, and Monsieur LeRay: the mortician I had watched from afar in Paris. When I had approached him, brimming with questions, LeRay had simply hissed at me, drawing his black cloak in tighter around his wings, and vanished. I had followed, but he was quick and he did not wish to be found. We were solitary creatures, so it seemed. But if so, why was she here?

I shook my head again. Was everything I thought I knew about Cruxim a lie? Could she tell me why, after the exultation of the boy’s blood, I was still here, alive, on a beach with human blood still coursing through me.

“How?” I raised myself to a crouch and shouted, “How do you know me?”

“Come,” she answered, turning back to me and holding out one hand again, “and find out.”

Standing, I shook the sand and shellgrit from my clothes and swiped at my face again with one salt-specked hand. My hair was crusted stiff, my body sore from the long night on the beach. My senses felt taut, crackling with exhaustion and loss. I wondered what I was doing. Then again, what did I have to lose?
They were both gone: Joslyn and Sabine. The two women I had loved, each differently, each equally, or at least I thought, were lost to me. Beltran had left me nothing to live for but revenge. A sharp, hopeless pain shot through me, far worse than the hunched cramp of my shoulders.

I took a tentative, lurching step toward the Cruxim on the beach.

She extended her hand further and assessed me with a squint.

“You have been following me.” I accused. “Haven’t you?”

“Yes.” The answer came too simply, dismissing my accusation.

“Yet you did nothing!” Salt and sand and sea foam spat out with each syllable. “You could have helped, could have stopped them. You could have helped me save Joslyn … but you did nothing.”

“For what?” It was just a question matter-of-factly stated, but its coldness formed a fist.

“For love.” I set my jaw, biting back angrier words.

“Your love.” She blinked and then turned her eyes away from me. “She was a Vampire.”

“She was a human being ... once.”

“Yes. But you never were. And nor was I.” Her gleaming gray eyes held a question. “Why does it matter to you so that she was human?”

“She had her soul.” I sank to my knees again and retched into the sand. “In a soulless world.”

Silence passed between us, but thoughts swarmed thick in my head. Since my sister’s birth, all those centuries ago, never had I met another Cruxim. So why now?

I shook my head to clear the hammering of a headache. “You did nothing to help me—to help them, either of them.”

“I am helping you now.”

“You call this helping? You did nothing!” My fist, pounding the sand again, sent missiles of tiny shells into the air.

“She was a Vampire,” she said, softer this time. “They will all die, Amedeo … eventually. It is our mission. Have you forgotten that?” She put her hand on my shoulder and I looked up at her.

Her face was still free of emotion, her brow unwrinkled, her pillowed lips full. Neither frown nor smile tugged at her noble features. She was blank, as unmoved as the ocean had been at dawn when its stillness had mocked the tumult of my anguish.

I stumbled to my feet. “You think I can forget? You think I can just put aside what he did to them? Or what I mean to do to him?” The bite of my nails puncturing my clenched palms was nothing compared to the pain of knowing Beltran still lived. I turned away from her again, sick with the knowledge that perhaps no one could have helped them. The only help for Joslyn and Sabine would have been never to have met me. I was the cause of their damnation! Part of me wished neither had ever known me—not the blue-eyed child who had believed me her guardian angel until the Vampire Beltran had his way with her, nor the brave, golden-haired Sphinx who had loved me yet thought herself my pet. Yet the thought of never having known either of them drew bile up from my stomach.

What point is there in following this Cruxim, or even in going on? I thought.

Nausea overtook me again and I fell to the sand, curled like a shell, my back to her.

“There is Sabine.”

It seemed she had read my thoughts.

I felt the growl forming before it even left my lips. “What do you care?”

“She fought valiantly. I had hoped she might free herself from Beltran.”

“You hoped.” I raised myself again and glowered at her.

“Yes.”

I passed my hands over my face, swiping away tears. “And Joslyn? What did you hope for her?”

“Must we argue again?” She sighed, as if she had hoped my love for the woman who had given her life for mine might have already faded. Then she kneeled beside me. Her pale skin gleamed argent up close.

“I mean you no harm, Amedeo. Nor her. I did not save Joslyn or Sabine, because…” Her eyes reflected the luminescent strip of the horizon. “Because…”

“I know.” My thoughts were as dull as my words. “They were not Cruxim.”

“No, they were not. But … there are many things you do not know. Many things I might teach you about yourself if you come with me.”

My eyes were dry, but my heart still cried for them both. “Now? Now, you wish to teach me these things. Why not before? Why not then, when such knowledge might have helped me save them.”

“It was not the time. It was never the time before.”

“Before!” I let out a bitter laugh that my throat was too hoarse to give life to. “How long have you known of me?”

Her silence was heavy with secrets I knew she would not divulge.

“Since I was a child.” She stood and put a hand down to help me up. “But I did not know where you were, not until the rumors began. All of France had heard: a winged being in a circus and with him a Sphinx, half female, half lion. All of Europe questioned what monsters Gandler was parading, and whether they were real. Did you think such things would not reach the ears of another Cruxim, or of Vampires?”

I nodded, considering it, my eyes on her still outstretched hand.

“Come with me. It is not safe here.” She glanced around. “It is too open, too exposed for us to hide ourselves and our wings from humans easily. And look at you.” For the first time, I saw warmth in her silvery eyes. “You are exhausted.”

What harm could there be in it? She was right: I was exhausted, weak, and stricken with grief. What harm could she do me, a Cruxim like myself? And if she could, would I care? If she possessed the honor of our kind, she might protect me until my strength returned.

“Follow me,” she pleaded, “and we shall talk.”

“I have had enough of talk.” I shrugged off her hand. “All I need is vengeance.”

“Where did revenge get you? There will be time enough to make the undead pay for their sins. First, you must atone for your own, as all of our kind must.” She glided over the sand towards the water’s edge.

“Come.” Her gentle wing flaps became a flurry as she rose up over the water.

I felt sure I would be too weak to fly, but as I watched the air currents stroke her feathers, I knew all I wanted to do was flee far from here, feeling the weightlessness, the lightness, the clarity of nothing but air.
I rose into the air after her, catching the wind’s breath in my wings. Then, with a last look at the mercurial gleam of the only Cruxim I had met in hundreds of years, I spun and flew as fast as I could away from her.
I would find Sabine, even if it meant kissing every stone on earth.

* * *

Hours passed in a whirr of tired wingbeats. I traveled far and fast, a willing Icarus shooting up towards a reluctant sun, craving the heat that might plummet me down into the ocean, where Sabine waited for me. She had not deserved the fate that found her. A Sphinx, with the head and breast of a woman and the lithe, winged body of a great cat, her only vulnerability had been the anchorstone her spirit returned to by day. With the stone safe, like me, she was otherwise immortal. We had found allies in each other, companions, and kindred souls, and lovers, too, had not the impracticality of our love stalled my passion. She had waited for me, searched for me, the forty years I had spent imprisoned in a tower in France, considered some kind of superhuman devil by the townsfolk. Unable to find the anchorstone, Beltran had cast her body, encased in molten metal, deep into the sea, but still she would be waiting for me.

“She is loyal, just like a lioness.” The thought came too easily into my head, and it was some seconds before I realized it was not mine.

“Why are you following me?” I snapped, thinking I should have asked instead how it was that she had come to know my thoughts. Perhaps it was a thing between Cruxim, although I could not read hers when I tried.

“Yes, it is.” She answered my second question aloud as soon as I had thought it. “You cannot read my thoughts if I do not wish you to. At least not yet.”

“And yet you would read mine uninvited.”

I felt the wind of her wings as she shrugged in mid-flight. “I imagined you might be less prickly, Amedeo.”

Her expression hardly changed; I could not tell if she was hurt or angry.

“I told you—you did not know me.”

They were words to wound, but the serene face betrayed no hint of a frown.

We flew on in silence for some time. Then a voice, softer than the wind in the Cypress pines, entered my head again. “She is not dead, remember, only sleeping.”

“Sleeping!” I swooped away from her, Beltran’s mocking words ringing in my head: Think of her as just asleep, Cruxim. A very long, very cold sleep. Such a shame cats just hate water.

“A sorry euphemism. Sleeping on the ocean’s floor,” I spat.

“But living. Still living. Just like you.” With a great flap, she shot forward to face me, and this time her expression was of pity. “Do you know where her anchorstone is? Is it safe?”

I tried to keep any surprise from my features. She knows of anchorstones. What else does she know? I wondered.

“Would I be here if I did?” I answered her, above the wind. “But I will find it, and I will wake her. Alone. What can you offer me now that I have lost everything while you stood by and watched it slip away?”

“That, I can’t tell you. Perhaps I can offer you only fate, if that is what draws me to you.”

“Fate!” I spat. “What is fate?” Get out of my head, I screamed internally.

She smiled. “You can hear me now, as I hear you. You are a fast learner. Perhaps you should have more faith in fate.”

It was not the time for novelties. The pounding of my wings and muscles had become a dull throb that matched the numbness of my heart and mind. “Enough of fate, and of flight. I need rest. Leave me!”

She fell back a little. “Don’t you want to know who I am?”

“Leave me!” I screamed. “Leave me! I care nothing for fate, or for you, or for life.”

“Skylar,” she said softly.

I thought I detected a brief smile before the sharpness of the wind tugged it away.

“My name is Skylar Emmanuel.”

She spun in the air like a sparrow, rising on a draft before plummeting headfirst down towards the earth, her wings creating a magnificent silver V as she dove.

Giveaway:

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{Blog Tour - First Chapter Reveal} An Amish Country Christmas by Charlotte Hubbard & Naomi King

ISBN #: 978-1420131888

Page Count: 352

Copyright: October 1, 2013

Publisher: Zebra

Book Summary:

"The Christmas Visitors”: For spirited Martha Coblentz and her twin Mary, the snow has delivered the perfect holiday and birthday present to their door—handsome brothers Nate and Bram Kanagy. But when unforeseen trouble interrupts their season’s good cheer, it will take unexpected intervention—and sudden understanding—to give all four the blessing of a lifetime.

“Kissing the Bishop”: As the New Year’s first snow settles, Nazareth Hooley and her sister Jerusalem are given a heaven-sent chance to help newly widowed Tom Hostetler tend his home. But when her hope that she and Tom can build on the caring between them seems a dream forever out of reach, Nazareth discovers that faith and love can make any miracle possible.

About the Author:

I've called Missouri home for most of my life, and most folks don't realize that several Old Order Amish and Mennonite communities make their home here, as well. The rolling pastureland, woods, and small towns along county highways make a wonderful setting for Plain populations - and for stories about them, too! While Jamesport, Missouri is the largest Old Order Amish settlement west of the Mississippi River, other communities have also found the affordable farm land ideal for raising crops, livestock, and running the small family-owned businesses that support their families.

Like my heroine, Miriam Lantz, of my Seasons of the Heart series, I love to feed people - to share my hearth and home. I bake bread and goodies and I love to try new recipes. I put up jars and jars of green beans, tomatoes, beets and other veggies every summer. All my adult life, I've been a deacon, a dedicated church musician and choir member, and we hosted a potluck group in our home for more than twenty years.

Like Abby Lambright, heroine of my Home at Cedar Creek series, I consider it a personal mission to be a listener and a peacemaker - to heal broken hearts and wounded souls. Faith and family, farming and frugality matter to me: like Abby, I sew and enjoy fabric arts - I made my wedding dress and the one Mom wore, too, when I married into an Iowa farm and family more than thirty-five years ago! When I'm not writing, I crochet and sew, and I love to travel.

I recently moved to Minnesota when my husband got a wonderful new job, so now he and I and our border collie, Ramona, are exploring our new state and making new friends.

You can visit her website at www.CharlotteHubbard.com

Connect & Socialize with Charlotte!

FACEBOOK | GOODREADS

First Chapter Reveal:

The Christmas Visitors

"Easy, Clyde. Back up, fella." Nate Kanagy stood aside as his Clydesdale came backwards out of the horse trailer, sensing Clyde was every bit as excited as he was on this fine December twenty-third. The horse whickered and shook his massive head, then waited patiently beside his brother's bay gelding while Bram shut the trailer gates. Nate stepped up to pay the driver who had brought them here from Willow Ridge this morning. "Thanks again, Gregg. And a merry Christmas to you."

"Merry Christmas to you boys and your family, too," Gregg replied as he started his van. "Enjoy your new sleigh and courting buggy!"

"Jah, we intend to!" Nate's brother, Bram, piped up from behind them. "If you can't have fun drivin' a new rig, what's the point of gettin' one?"

The two of them waved as Gregg headed back onto the county blacktop, hauling their empty trailer behind him. Then Nate gazed around the little town of Cedar Creek, Missouri. From where they stood in the parking lot of Graber's Custom Carriages, the countryside rolled gently beneath a fresh blanket of snow, dotted with tall white homes, silos, and barns. Deep green cedar trees followed the creek at the bottom of the hill, where cardinals called to each other. Across the snow-packed blacktop, Treva's Greenhouse sported a sign that said CLOSED FOR CHRISTMAS, but beside it the Cedar Creek Mercantile bustled with buggies and cars alike. "We'll get our fill of Aunt Beulah Mae's homemade goodies tonight -"

"Along with a hefty helping of her nosy questions and Uncle Abe's looooong stories," Bram added.

"- but a special occasion like this calls for some serious junk food."

"Jah, let's hit the merc." Bram hitched their two horses to the railing on the side of the carriage shop. "No tellin' what else we might find there. Looks to be a place that stocks everything under the sun, including stuff you never knew you needed."

To Nate, Cedar Creek seemed a lot like most Plain communities, in that the businesses were scattered along the roadside, on the farms where their owners lived. Back home in Willow Ridge they didn't have a carriage maker, so this trip was indeed a treat: their parents had given them their choice of new vehicles with the understanding that he and his younger brother wouldn't go running the roads in cars like a lot of Amish fellows did during their rumspringa years. At eighteen, Bram had chosen a buggy so he'd be ready for that day when a special girl tempted him to court and marry her.

Nate, however, had a hankering for a sleigh. Nothing else felt so grand on a winter's day as skimming across the snow-covered hills - and what could be more glorious than such a ride on a moonlit night? After they ate their snack, he couldn't wait to hitch Clyde to his new rig and take off. He'd been engaged to a special girl last Christmas, only to learn she'd been seeing other fellows, so at twenty, Nate wasn't out to impress anybody. These days, he was pleasing himself.

When they entered the mercantile, he felt right at home. The scent of bulk grass seed, stored in wooden bins along the wall, filled the warm air and a wide wooden staircase led to an open second level where work boots and clothing were sold. A banner on the railing said ABBY'S STITCH IN TIME, and a young woman - Abby, most likely - smiled down at him from her treadle sewing machine. Mesh bags of oranges and locally grown apples and potatoes were displayed by the check-out counter. Nate exchanged greetings with the gray-bearded fellow who was ringing up an order and then followed Bram toward the aisles of bulk snacks that had been bagged and labeled here in the store.

"Here's those chocolate coconut haystacks you like," Bram said, "not to mention trail mix and sweet potato chips and saltwater taffy and -"

But Nate wasn't listening. Down the aisle a ways, where they sold livestock supplies, a girl was hefting a mineral block into her pull cart. Her auburn hair glimmered beneath her white kapp, and as she straightened to her full height, she caught his gaze. Held it for a few moments. Then she leaned down again.

It seemed only polite to see if she needed help.

As Nate headed her way, he wasn't surprised to hear the tattoo of Bram's boots on the plank floor behind him. "How about if I get that for you?" he asked as the redhead wrapped her arms around a fifty-pound sack of horse feed.

"Jah, how many of those do you need?" Bram chimed in. "No sense in strainin' yourself when we toss this stuff around all the time."

Nate had always heard that blue eyes could twinkle, but now he was seeing it for himself. The young woman looked from him to his brother as though she hid a secret behind her smile. "Not from around here, are you?"

He blinked. Had he sprouted a second head? Did he sound so very different from the Amish fellows here in Cedar Creek? Or was it Bram's lovestruck grin that made her say that? "Just got here from Willow Ridge, truth be told," Nate replied. "I'm fetching the sleigh James Graber's built for me -"

"And he's got a courtin' buggy with my name on it," his younger brother added.

"Well, you couldn't ask for a better rig, then," she remarked. "James has even built special carriages for Disney World and the likes of Miss America, you see."

Nate didn't know a thing about Miss America, but she surely couldn't hold a candle to this girl. Her ivory skin glowed, with just a few freckles on the bridge of her nose - tiny ones, that he had to lean closer to see. And then there was the way her eyes widened as she gazed back at him. He caught himself and grabbed the bag of feed she'd been lifting. "So how many of these bags do you need?"

"Four, please. And what'd you say your name was?"

Bram laughed as he, too, hefted a sack of the oats mixture. "Last name's Kanagy. I'm Bram - the cute one," he teased, "and Mr. Shy here is my brother Nate. He got burnt by a girl he was engaged to, so now he mostly keeps to his horses."

Nate closed his eyes against a wave of irritation as he placed a third sack of the rations in her wooden cart. "If you believe everything my kid brother says, well - but you look to be way ahead of him. And your name would be -?"

The redhead looked him over yet again. "Martha. Coblentz." She pointed to the shelf where the mineral blocks were. "A couple more of those and I've got to get on home. Denki ever so much for your help, fellas. Have a gut time with your new rigs."

It was on the tip of his tongue to invite her for a sleigh ride, yet Nate hesitated. After all, they were only spending the night with their aunt and uncle before returning to Willow Ridge tomorrow, in time to celebrate Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with their family. As though she suddenly needed to be someplace else, Martha strode down the aisle toward the check-out counter, pulling her sturdy wagon behind her.

"Well, you blew that one," Bram muttered.

"And you, little brother, have a mouth bigger than your brain," Nate replied under his breath. "We'll have to work on that."

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

"Jah, Mary?" Martha murmured into her cell phone. She looked behind her as she walked down the road, with the wind whipping at her black coat and bonnet. "You've got to come see these two fellas who're heading over to James's carriage shop! I just now met them in the mercantile and, well - you can gawk at both of them all you want, but I've already decided to go for Nate."

"Puh! What makes you think you get first pick?" her twin retorted.

"First come, first served. Be there or be square," Martha quipped. She loved the way her breath came out in a frosty vapor on this brisk December morning. Truth be told, she was enjoying this day a lot more now that she'd met the two Kanagy boys in the mercantile. "Better get a move on, though, or you might miss them. They're here to fetch a sleigh and a courting buggy James built for them, and they might head right on home afterward - unless we give them a gut reason to hang around, you know."

"Well, I can't get there any too fast if I'm on the phone with you now, can I?" Click.

Martha tucked her cell into her coat pocket and continued down the snow-covered road as fast as her heavy pull cart would allow. What with her dat and her older brother Owen out working on a house today, the barn chores fell to her, as they often did. It was just as well, because she preferred working outdoors while Mary was happier helping their mamm get ready for today's meals as well as Christmas dinner. Martha was perfectly capable of placing those heavy sacks of feeds in their covered bins and then setting out the new mineral blocks for the horses, but wasn't it a fine thing that two gut-looking fellows had come to help her in the mercantile? The boys around Cedar Creek seemed to think she was part of the landscape ... always there, so mostly invisible. Apparently not worth a second look.

By the time Martha was within sight of the house, here came Mary up the road. Oh, but she had a glint of mischief in her eyes, too! "So what's in that sack, Sister?"

Mary laughed. "That's my beeswax, ain't so?"

"Now don't go thinking you can have those fellas all to yourself," Martha protested, playfully blocking her sister's path. "I was nice enough to tell you about them -"

"And Mamma's already got her suspicions about me taking out of the house so sudden-like, too. This better be worth my time, Sister!" Mary declared. "After all, it was your dinner - your favorite oatmeal bread and goodies I was baking when you called."

"Puh! If you don't think the walk's worth your while, then I'll just have some fun with those fellas myself. Not a problem!"

"We'll see about that, won't we?"

Martha hurried on down the snowy lane to the barn with her cart, which was harder to pull on the clumpy gravel. No doubt her sister would know a fine opportunity when she saw one, so it was best to put these supplies away and feed the animals in short order. The Kanagy boys didn't know it yet, but as thanks for helping her, they were about to receive a Christmas gift they hadn't counted on.

{First Chapter Reveal} Winter of Wishes by Charlotte Hubbard

ISBN #: 978-1420121711

Page Count: 368

Copyright: September 3, 2013

Publisher: Zebra

Book Summary:

(Taken from back cover)

As another year draws to a close in Willow Ridge, life seems to be changing for everyone but Rhoda Lantz. Her widowed mother is about to remarry, her sister is a busy newlywed, and soon Rhoda will be alone in her cozy apartment above the blacksmith's shop. An ad posted by an Englischer looking for someone to help with his mother and children may offer just the companionship she's looking for, but if she falls for the caring single father, she may risk being shunned by her community. Certain she can only wish for things she cannot have, Rhoda must remember that all things are possible with God, and nothing is stronger than the power of love.

First Chapter Reveal:

As Rhoda Lantz stood gazing out the window of the Sweet Seasons Bakery Cafe, her mood matched the ominous gray clouds that shrouded the dark, predawn sky. Here it was the day after Thanksgiving and she felt anything but thankful. Oh, she'd eaten Mamma's wonderful dinner yesterday and smiled at all the right times during the gathering of family and friends around their extended kitchen table, but she'd been going through the motions. Feeling distanced ... not liking it, but not knowing what to do about it, either.

"You all right, honey-bug? Ya seem a million miles away."

Rhoda jumped. Mamma had slipped up behind her while she'd been lost in her thoughts. "Jah, jah. Fine and dandy," she fibbed. "Just thinkin' how it looks like we're in for a winter storm, which most likely means we won't have as many folks come to eat today and tomorrow. It's just ... well, things got really slow last year at this time."

Her mother's concerned gaze told Rhoda her little white lie hadn't sounded very convincing. Mamma glanced toward the kitchen, where her partner, Naomi Brenneman, and Naomi's daughter, Hannah, were frying sausage and bacon for the day's breakfast buffet. "Tell ya what," she said gently. "Lydia Zook left a phone message about a couple of fresh turkeys still bein' in their meat case. Why not go to the market and fetch those, along with a case of eggs - and I'm thinkin' it's a perfect day for that wonderful-gut cream soup we make with the potatoes and carrots and cheese in the sauce. I'll call in the order, and by the time ya get over there they'll have everything all gathered up."

"Jah, Mamma, I can do that," Rhoda murmured. It meant walking down the long lane with the wind whipping at her coat, and then hitching up a carriage, but it was something useful to do.

Useful. Why is it such a struggle lately to feel useful? I wish I knew what to do with my life.

Rhoda slipped her coat from the peg at the door, tied on her heavy black bonnet, and stepped outside with a gasp. The temperature had dropped several degrees since she'd come to the cafe an hour ago. The chill bit through her woolen stockings as she walked briskly along the gravel lane with her head lowered against the wind.

"Hey there, Rhoda! Gut mornin' to ya!" a voice sang out as she passed the smithy behind the Sweet Seasons.

Rhoda waved to Ben Hooley but didn't stop to chat. Why did the farrier's cheerfulness irritate her lately? She had gotten over her schoolgirl crush on him and was happy for Ben and Mamma both, but as their New Year's Day wedding approached, they seemed more public about their affections - their joy - and, well, that irritated her, too! Across the road from the Sweet Seasons a new home was going up in record time, as Ben's gift to her mother ... yet another reminder of how Rhoda's life would change when Mamma moved out of the apartment above the blacksmith shop, and she would be living there alone.

As she reached the white house she'd grown up in, Rhoda sighed. No lights glowed in the kitchen window and no one ate breakfast at the table: this holiday weekend, her twin sister Rachel and Rachel's new groom, Micah Brenneman, were on an extended trip around central Missouri to collect wedding presents as they visited aunts, uncles, and cousins of their two families. Rhoda missed working alongside Rachel at the cafe more than she could bear to admit, yet here again, she was happy for her sister. The newlyweds radiated a love and sense of satisfaction she could only dream of.

Rhoda hitched up the enclosed carriage and clapped the reins across Sadie's broad back. If Thanksgiving had been so difficult yesterday, with so many signposts of the radical changes in all their lives, what would the upcoming Christmas season be like? Ordinarily she loved baking cookies, setting out the Nativity scene, and arranging evergreen branches and candles on the mantel and at the windowsills. Yet as thick, feathery flakes of snow blew across the yard, her heart thudded dully. It wasn't her way to feel so blue, or to feel life was passing her by. But at twenty-one, she heard her clock ticking ever so loudly.

God, have Ya stopped listenin' to my prayers for a husband and a family? Are Ya tellin' me I'm fated to remain a maidel?

Rhoda winced at the thought. She gave the mare its head once they were on the county blacktop, and as they rolled across the single-lane bridge that spanned this narrow spot in the Missouri River, she glanced over toward the new gristmill. The huge wooden wheel was in place now, churning slowly as the current of the water propelled it. The first light of dawn revealed two male figures on the roof. Luke and Ira Hooley, Ben's younger brothers, scrambled like monkeys as they checked their new machinery. The Mill at Willow Ridge would soon be open to tourists. In addition to regular wheat flour and cornmeal, the Hooley brothers would offer specialty grains that would sell to whole-foods stores in Warrensburg and other nearby cities. Mamma was already gathering recipes to bake artisan breads at the Sweet Seasons, as an additional lure for health-conscious tourists.

But Rhoda's one brief date with Ira had proven he was more interested in running the roads with Annie Mae Knepp than in settling down or joining the church anytime soon. Both Ira and Luke were seemingly happy to live in a state of eternal rumspringa. Rhoda considered herself as fun loving as any young woman, but she'd long ago committed herself to the Amish faith. Was it too much to ask the same sort of maturity of the men she dated?

She pulled up alongside Zook's Market. The grocery and dry goods store wouldn't open for a couple of hours yet, but already Henry and Lydia Zook were preparing for their day. Rhoda put a determined smile on her face as the bell above the door jangled. "Happy day-after-Thanksgivin' to ya!" she called out. "Mamm says you've got a couple turkeys for us today."

"Jah, Rhoda, we're packin' your boxes right this minute, too!" Lydia called out from behind the back counter. "Levi! Cyrus! You can be carryin' those big bags of potatoes and carrots out to Rhoda's rig, please and thank ya."

From an aisle of the store, still shadowy in the low glow of the glass ceiling lights, two of the younger Zook boys stepped away from the shelves they had been restocking. "Hey there, Rhoda," ten-year-old Levi mumbled.

"Tell your mamm we could use more of those fine blackberry pies," his younger brother Cyrus remarked as he hefted a thirty-pound bag of potatoes over his shoulder. "That's my favorite, and they always sell out. Mamm won't let us buy a pie unless they're a day old - and most of 'em don't stay on the shelf that long."

Rhoda smiled wryly. Cyrus Zook wasn't the only fellow around Willow Ridge with a keen interest in her mother's pies. "I'll pass that along. Denki to you boys for loadin' the carriage."

"Levi's fetchin' your turkeys from the fridge," their dat, Henry, said from behind his meat counter. "Won't be but a minute. Say - it sounds like ya had half of Willow Ridge over to your place for dinner yesterday."

Again Rhoda smiled to herself: word got around fast in a small town. "Jah, what with Ben and his two brothers and two aunts - and the fact that those aunts invited Tom Hostetler and Hiram and his whole tribe to join us - we had quite a houseful."

"Awful nice of ya to look after Preacher Tom and the bishop's bunch," Lydia said with an approving nod. "Fellows without wives don't always get to celebrate with a real Thanksgiving dinner when their married kids live at a distance."

"Well, there was no telling Jerusalem and Nazareth Hooley they couldn't invite Tom and the Knepps," Rhoda replied with a chuckle. "So there ya have it. They brought half the meal, though, so that wasn't so bad."

"Tell your mamm we said hullo." Henry turned back toward the big grinder on the back table, where he was making fresh hamburger.

"Jah, I'll do that. And denki for havin' things all set to go."

Jonah Zook stood behind his dat's counter trimming roasts. Rhoda met his eye and nodded, but didn't try to make small talk. Jonah was a couple of years younger than she, and had driven her home from a few Sunday-night singings, but he had about as much sparkle as a crushed cardboard box. And goodness, but she could use some sparkle about now ...

Rhoda glanced out the store's front window. Levi and Cyrus were taking their sweet time about loading her groceries, so she wandered over to the bulletin board where folks posted notices of upcoming auctions and other announcements. No sense in standing out in that wind while the boys joshed around.

The old corkboard was pitted from years of use, and except for the sale bills for upcoming household auctions in New Haven and Morning Star, the yellowed notices for herbal remedies, fresh eggs, and local fellows' businesses had hung there for months. Rhoda sighed - and then caught sight of a note half-hidden by an auction flyer.

NEED A COMPASSIONATE, PATIENT CARETAKER FOR MY ELDERLY MOTHER, PLUS AFTER-SCHOOL SUPERVISION FOR TWO KIDS. NEW HAVEN, JUST A BLOCK OFF THE COUNTY HIGHWAY. CALL ANDY LEITNER.

Rhoda snatched the little notice from the board, her heart thumping. She knew nothing about this fellow except his phone number and that he had an ailing mother and two young children - and that he was surely English if he was advertising for help with family members. Yet something about his decisive block printing told her Mr. Leitner was a man who didn't waffle over decisions or accept a halfhearted effort from anyone who would work for him. He apparently had no wife -

Maybe she works away from home. Happens a lot amongst English families.

- and if he had posted this advertisement in Zook's Market, he surely realized a Plain woman would be most likely to respond. It was common for Amish and Mennonite gals to hire on for housework and caretaking in English homes, so if she gave him a call, she could start working there, why - as soon as tomorrow!

How many of these notices has he posted? Plenty of Plain bulk stores to advertise in around Morning Star, plus the big discount stores out past New Haven. And if he had run ads in the local papers, maybe he'd already had dozens of gals apply for this job. But what could it hurt to find out?

Pulse pounding, Rhoda stepped outside. "You fellas got all my stuff loaded, jah?" she demanded. Levi and Cyrus were playing a rousing game of catch with a huge hard-packed snowball, paying no heed to the snow that was falling on their green shirtsleeves.

Levi, the ornerier of the two, poked his head around the back of the buggy. "Got a train to catch, do ya? Busy day chasin' after that Ira Hooley fella?" he teased. "Jonah, he says ya been tryin' to catch yourself some of that Lancaster County money -"

"And what if I have?" Rhoda shot back. "Your mamm won't like it when I tell her you two have been lollygaggin' out here instead of stockin' your shelves, ain't so?"

Levi waited until she was stepping into the carriage before firing the snowball at her backside. But what would she accomplish by stepping out to confront him? Rhoda glanced at the two huge turkeys, the mesh sacks of potatoes, carrots, and onions, and the sturdy boxes loaded with other staples Mamma had ordered, and decided she was ready to go. "Back, Sadie," she said in a low voice.

The mare whickered and obeyed immediately. Rhoda chuckled at the two boys' outcry as she playfully backed the buggy toward them. Then she urged Sadie into a trot. All sorts of questions buzzed in her mind as she headed for the Sweet Seasons. What would Mamma say if she called Andy Leitner? What if a mild winter meant the breakfast and lunch shifts would remain busy, especially with Rachel off collecting wedding presents for a few more weekends? Hannah Brenneman had only been helping them since her sixteenth birthday last week -

Jah, but she got her wish, to work in the cafe. And Rachel got her wish when she married Micah. And Mamma got more than she dared to wish for when Ben Hooley asked to marry her! So it's about time for me to have a wish come true!

Was that prideful, self-centered thinking? As Rhoda pulled up at the cafe and parked the buggy, she didn't much worry about the complications of religion or the Old Ways. She stepped into the dining room, spotted her cousins, Nate and Bram Kanagy, and caught them before they went back to the buffet for another round of biscuits and gravy. "Could I get you boys to carry in a couple of turkeys and some big bags of produce?" she asked sweetly. Then she nodded toward the kitchen, where Hannah was drizzling white icing on a fresh pan of Mamma's sticky buns. "Ya might talk our new cook out of a mighty gut cinnamon roll, if ya smile at her real nice."

Nate rolled his eyes, but Bram's handsome face lit up. "Jah, I noticed how the scenery in the kitchen had improved, cuz - not that it isn't a treat to watch you and Rachel workin'," he added quickly.

"Jah, sure, ya say that after you've already stepped in it." Rhoda widened her eyes at him playfully. "Here's your chance to earn your breakfast - not to mention make a few points with Hannah."

Rhoda went back outside to grab one of the lighter boxes. Then, once Nate had followed her in with bags of onions and carrots, and he was chatting with Hannah and Mamma, she slipped out to the phone shanty before she lost her nerve. Common sense told her she should think out some answers to whatever questions Andy Leitner might ask, yet excitement overruled her usual practicality. Chances were good that she'd have to leave him a voice mail, anyway, so as her fingers danced over the phone number, her thoughts raced. Never in her life had she considered working in another family's home, yet this seemed like the opportunity she'd been hoping for - praying for - of late. Surely Mamma would understand if -

"Hello?" a male voice said over the phone. He sounded a little groggy.

Rhoda gripped the receiver. It hadn't occurred to her that while she'd already worked a couple of hours at the cafe, most of the world wasn't out of bed yet. "I - sorry I called so early, but -"

"Not a problem. Glad for the wake-up call, because it seems I fell back asleep," he replied with a soft groan. "How can I help you?"

Rhoda's imagination ran wild. If this was Andy Leitner, he had a deep, mellow voice. Even though she'd awakened him and he was running late, he spoke pleasantly. "I, um, found the notice from an Andy Leitner on the board in Zook's Market just now, and -" She closed her eyes, wondering where the words had disappeared to. She had to sound businesslike, or at least competent, or this man wouldn't want to talk to her.

"You're interested in the position?" he asked with a hopeful upturn in his voice. "I was wondering if the store owners had taken my note down."

Rhoda's heart raced. "Jah, I'd like to talk to you about it," she gushed. "But ya should understand right out that I don't have a car, on account of how we Amish don't believe in ownin' - I mean, I'm not preachin' at ya, or -"

She winced. "This is comin' out all wrong. Sorry," she rasped. "My name's Rhoda Lantz, and I'm in Willow Ridge. I sure hope you don't think I'm too ferhoodled to even be considered for the job."

"Ferhoodled?" The word rolled melodiously from the receiver and teased at her.

"Crazy mixed-up," she explained. "Confused, and - well, I'm keepin' ya from whatever ya need to be doin', so -"

"Ah, but you're a solution to my problem. The answer to a prayer," he added quietly. "For that, I have time to listen, Rhoda. I need to make my shift at the hospital, but could I come by and chat with you when I get off? Say, around two this afternoon?"

Rhoda grinned. "That would be wonderful-gut, Mr. Leitner! We'll be closing up at two - my mamm runs the Sweet Seasons Bakery Cafe on the county blacktop. We can talk at a back table."

"Perfect. I'll see you then - and thanks so much for calling, Rhoda."

"Jah, for sure and for certain!"

As she placed the receiver back in its cradle, Rhoda held her breath. What would she tell Mamma? She felt scared and excited and yes, ferhoodled, because she now had an interview for a job! She had no idea how to care for that elderly mother ... or what if the kids ran her so ragged she got nothing done except to keep them out of trouble? What if Andy Leitner's family didn't like her because she wore Plain clothing and kapps?

What have ya gone and done, Rhoda Lantz?

She inhaled to settle herself, and headed back to the cafe's kitchen. There was no going back, no unsaying what she'd said over the phone. No matter what anyone else thought, she could only move forward.

And wasn't that exactly what she'd been hoping to do for weeks now?