The Gift Read online

  Dedication

  To Dan and Suzanne. With love and friendship, and the hope

  that we’ll share many more holidays together in the future!

  The author is grateful for being allowed to reprint

  recipes from Our Family’s Favorite Recipes

  The Shrock’s Homestead

  9943 Copperhead Rd. N.W.

  Sugarcreek, OH 44681

  Epigraph

  We walk by faith, not by sight.

  2 CORINTHIANS 5:7

  Enjoy today. It won’t come back.

  AMISH PROVERB

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .* About the Author

  About the Book

  Read On

  Also by Shelley Shepard Gray

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER 1

  Friday, November 24

  Crack!

  Susanna Schwartz jolted. She knew of only one thing that could make a sound like that. A rifle. Someone was shooting nearby. Right by where she was driving her buggy on Highway 218.

  Crack! Ping! Ping!

  That sounded closer. She glanced nervously toward the woods but didn’t see anything . . . or anyone. Of course, the way the icy snow was falling, it was a wonder she could even see her horse, Star.

  She exhaled, tried to calm herself down and concentrate on driving her buggy home. Tried to make some sense of what she was hearing. It was Thanksgiving weekend, the first weekend of the hunting season. At least, it was back in Ohio. Maybe a hunter hadn’t realized that he was hunting so close to the road. That had happened all the time in Berlin, where she’d lived until two weeks ago. Boys and men would get so excited about tracking their turkeys and deer, they would neglect to pay attention to their surroundings.

  Another crack sounded, just as she was sure a patch of asphalt kicked up. But maybe she’d imagined that?

  Exhaling a ragged breath, she attempted to calm her beating heart. No good would come of her getting in a tizzy. If she did that, she’d upset the horse, and then she’d really be in trouble.

  But when yet another crack reverberated in the air, fear took over. Star whinnied and attempted to pick up speed.

  “Steady, Star,” she called out. “Easy, girl. It’ll be all right.”

  At least, she hoped it would. At the moment, she wasn’t so sure about that. Everything about her decision to drop off her little sister, Traci, at her girlfriend’s house just a few miles from their new farm had been a bad idea.

  The snow had already picked up, covering the empty highway in a thick blanket, which had made driving her buggy difficult. The metal wheels had slipped and slid several times since she’d begun the journey.

  Now she just wished it hadn’t gotten so dark so fast, and so icy. And she really wished the gunshots would stop.

  Don’t make things worse by imagining things, she cautioned herself. Focus on what is happening now, not what could be.

  She didn’t need to borrow trouble. She needed to do whatever it took to get home as quickly and safely as possible. That meant she needed to remain calm and keep Star’s lines firm and steady.

  When Star whinnied again, jerking her head to the right, Susanna tightened her grip on the leather straps. “Easy now, Star,” she called out once more, hoping and praying that the taut lines and her voice would soothe the mare before she lost control.

  But it was too late. Star neighed in alarm and jerked to the right, neighing even more loudly. Then, as another crack reverberated through the air, the horse broke into a gallop.

  Heart racing, Susanna leaned forward, holding on to the bench seat with one hand while trying to retain her grip with the other. “Whoa, Star! Please, Star!”

  Her cry did no good.

  The buggy wobbled, the wheels sliding precariously on the snow- and ice-covered black asphalt.

  The muscles in her arms strained as she attempted to gain control. A steady burn raced up her forearms and biceps as she pulled the reins.

  Star scrambled, her horseshoes clattering on the ice and snow.

  Ping!

  That was too close. Fully terrorized now, Star was kicking her legs. The action forced one of the lines to the buggy to snap. Seconds felt like minutes as the buggy jerked and slid. When the other line snapped, Star darted forward to safety.

  Susanna cried out. Screamed as the buggy slid and rocked precariously. Grasping the seat as tightly as she could, she pressed herself against the side of the closed space. Bracing herself for impact.

  Suddenly free, the buggy skidded toward the center of the road.

  She grabbed the brake. Attempted to pull. But she might as well have been clutching air. The buggy spun, then slid toward the other side, racing toward the ditch.

  She was going to crash. Desperately, she tried to focus on where she was. But between the frost on the windshield and the sleet and ice falling in thick sheets from the sky, there was no way to tell.

  All she knew for sure was that she was stranded on an unfamiliar road in the middle of an ice storm. And someone was shooting a rifle nearby.

  Crying now, she closed her eyes, held on to whatever she could, and prayed.

  Prayed as hard as she could. Prayed like she never had before.

  And as the conveyance fell down into the ditch, crashing into a thicket of trees, the force of the impact threw her toward the door. It flew open and she was thrown out, landing on her side, her arms barely bracing her. Her body twisted and useless.

  She’d gotten out. She’d survived.

  But as the snow and ice fell against her skin, stinging like sharp pellets, Susanna wondered if that was enough. Then she didn’t care at all as she slipped into unconsciousness.

  “JAH. THERE YOU go,” a soft masculine voice whispered by her side. “Come now, give it a try again. Open your eyes.”

  Susanna willed herself to try to do as the soothing voice bade. But it felt impossible. Her head was pounding and each of her eyelids felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Then, too, her skin felt cold. So cold. Freezing. Unable to help herself, she moaned.

  A warm hand glided across her cheek. It paused, then ran across her brow. The motion was soothing. Almost reassuring. “Ach. I know it’s hard, girl. But give it another go. Jah?”

  She tried again. This time, she was able to open her eyes a little. She saw it was still dark out, but there was a flickering light nearby, and the low beam of a flashlight on the ground. The beam reflected the white from the snow, making the area seem brighter . . . and vaguely foreign.

  She blinked to focus. Then stared into the light-blue eyes of her rescuer.

  “Look at that. They’re green.” He smiled, revealing a slightly crooked incisor.

  Green? Blinking
again, Susanna gasped as she attempted to find her voice.

  “Nee. Don’t talk. There’s no need for that,” he murmured, pulling back enough for her to see more of his features. His wide brow. The line of his jaw. The chunk of dark-brown hair mixing in with dark, thick eyebrows. “A car stopped just up ahead. My friend Lora just happened to be the driver. She’s callin’ for an ambulance. You should stay still until they come.”

  His words didn’t make a bit of sense. Until she remembered what had just happened.

  Panic engulfed her. “Star?”

  Where was she? The buggy? Her horse? Had Star been hurt? Was she somewhere nearby, cut or injured?

  “Star?” He turned a puzzled eye to the heavens.

  Unable to do anything else, she, too, looked above.

  “Nee, I don’t see no stars out. ’Course, it’s a bad night out here. Ain’t so? Sleeting and spitting snow. Miserable weather for Thanksgiving.” Kneeling closer, he smoothed the blanket over her. “Good thing I had this. We need to keep you warm.”

  His words, though he had completely misunderstood her, reminded her of where she was. It was Friday night, the evening after Thanksgiving. She’d been driving back from dropping Traci off at a new friend’s house. She’d gotten a late start back because they’d invited her inside for a slice of pumpkin pie.

  While she’d been inside, the wind had changed direction. That change had turned the lightly falling snow into hard pellets of deadly ice. Right about that time, darkness had fallen, enveloping her and Star in a thick, soupy world. She’d had to slow Star’s pace so her hooves wouldn’t slip on the asphalt.

  Then those shots were fired.

  “Shots?” she blurted. Her voice sounded hoarse and distorted, even to her own ears.

  He frowned. “I reckon you will have to get some shots, but maybe not.” When she parted her lips, desperate to make him understand, he started talking again. “You’ll be all right in no time,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Don’t doubt that. Good enough to start your Christmas baking . . . Ah, here’s Lora. Let me see what she says.”

  He stood up abruptly, shaking off one of his boots. “Did you get hold of your husband?”

  “I did,” the English woman said, her voice drifting slowly toward Susanna. “And thank the good Lord I did, too. Eddie was so worried when he’d tried my cell phone a couple of minutes ago and I didn’t answer. Anyway, I told him about the accident. He dispatched an ambulance from the radio in his car. He should be here any second, too.” Lowering her voice, she whispered, “How’s she doing?”

  “Don’t know. She seems fairly sluggish.”

  “She probably has a concussion.”

  “Jah. I thought that, too. She’s talking and her pretty green eyes are open. So, that’s gut. Right?”

  “I think so. So, who is she? Do you know? Has she said anything about what happened?”

  “I ain’t been having much of a conversation, Lora. She ain’t making much sense anyway. She’s asking about stars and shots. I haven’t even gotten to introductions yet.”

  The woman’s chuckle echoed through the air. “Honestly. The things you say.”

  “Hey, now . . .”

  “You know I’m only having a bit of fun with you.”

  “At my expense . . .”

  “Go on, now. You wait for Eddie. I’ll join her. Poor thing, lying alone on the shoulder of the pavement.” Smiling softly, she stepped closer, then knelt down on the ground beside Susanna. “Hi, there. I’m Lora Beck,” she said softly.

  “Hi,” Susanna replied, taking in the attractive woman’s golden hair falling past her shoulders, her brown eyes, green turtleneck, jeans, and puffy down coat.

  “My husband is a cop. Well, a sheriff. Well, a sheriff’s deputy,” she amended, her tone easy and light. She paused before gently wiping Susanna’s face with a soft cloth again. “Anyways, he’s on his way. So’s an ambulance. I know you’re cold and hurting, but hold on a little longer, okay?”

  It took effort, but Susanna answered. “’Kay.”

  “If you’re talking, that’s a good thing.” Leaning closer, Lora smiled. “That Neil is so silly. He was acting like you don’t know what’s going on, but you’re gonna be all right, aren’t you? I bet you’re going to be just fine.”

  Before Susanna could attempt to answer that, the sound of sirens lit the air. Help was on the way. Thank the good Lord for that!

  Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to relax. At the moment, it didn’t really matter where this man, this Neil, had come from, did it? Or why shots had been fired.

  Only that she’d survived.

  There would be time enough to figure out who everyone was and how they came to be near her when her head wasn’t pounding, her body didn’t feel beaten, and she wasn’t freezing cold, lying on the hard pavement.

  At least, she hoped and prayed that was so.

  CHAPTER 2

  Sunday, December 10

  I’m so glad you are nice,” a sweet-looking blond woman about ten years older than Susanna said as they joined the buffet line after the three-hour-long church service. “I didn’t think you would be.”

  As the statement registered, Susanna felt her smile falter.

  She should have been used to comments like this by now. Ever since she and her family moved here almost a month ago, all the adults in the community seemed to have a grudge against them. Try as they might, no one in her family could figure out exactly why.

  Though her sister Amanda was sending her a warning look, Susanna realized she was more than a little tired of being in the dark.

  Maybe it was time to get some answers. “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to offend you,” she replied in as conciliatory a tone as she was able. “If you tell me what I’ve done, I’ll attempt to make things better.”

  The woman looked taken aback. “You haven’t done anything.”

  “No?”

  “Nee. I mean, not besides the obvious.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m still not following you.”

  The blonde flushed. “You know . . . the way you treated the Vance family.”

  “Me?”

  She waved a hand. “I suppose it was your parents. The way they were so heavy-handed when they purchased the Vances’ farm.”

  Now she was even more confused. “My family bought the Vances’ farm after they put it up for sale. There isn’t much more to the story than that.”

  “Of course there is.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand. What was wrong with someone wanting to buy a farm that was up for sale?”

  “Don’t make it sound like you are the innocent party. You and your family took advantage of the Vances’ difficult situation.”

  “What situation?”

  “I’m certainly not going to discuss it here with you.”

  But hadn’t she just brought it up? Even more confused, Susanna glanced at her sister. Amanda was younger, but only by a year. She also had a better sense of handling difficult people.

  But Amanda looked as perplexed as she felt.

  Susanna was no expert on buying or selling real estate, but it sure seemed like far too many people were not only interested in their private business, but had a lot of emotional feelings about it, too.

  And that didn’t make any sense.

  Since she couldn’t think of a way to get better information without sounding like she was picking a fight, Susanna decided a slight change of subject might be in order. “I’m so glad we finally got to go to church today. I was home on bed rest for so long, I was getting a bit stir crazy.”

  The woman flushed. “Of course. I heard about your buggy accident. It must have been so scary.”

  “It was. It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever been through.” Right up there with sitting in a hospital waiting room while her mother had emergency surgery.

  “It’s a blessing you weren’t badly hurt.”

  “I agree.” Physically, she was better. Mentally? Wel
l, that was another story. Almost nightly, she’d wake up in a cold sweat, reliving the sound of gunshots. Of Star panicking and the buggy sliding out of control . . .

  When she’d woken up in the hospital, her mother was sitting by her side. Mamm’s face was stark white. The only color Susanna saw came from her blue eyes—she’d been crying for hours.

  Susanna had sustained a concussion, a colorful array of bumps and bruises, and some really awful scrapes on her arms and hands. But miraculously, nothing had been broken.

  It truly was a blessing.

  The doctors had kept her another day, then sent her home with firm warnings about taking things easy.

  That hadn’t been hard to agree to. She’d felt as if . . . well, as if she’d been thrown from a moving buggy. Every part of her body ached.

  Then, too, there was the grief she felt for Star. Star’s leg had been injured in her frantic bolt. The sheriff who came out to the scene of the accident had to put her down, right on the side of the road. Though Susanna knew she couldn’t have done anything differently, the loss of Star hit her hard. They’d had her for years, and she was such a steady, sweet-natured horse. Susanna felt like she’d let Star down. Almost as difficult to bear was the knowledge that her father was now going to have to buy another horse and buggy. It was a costly expense she knew they couldn’t really afford. Not after they’d used the majority of their savings to purchase the farm.

  Days after Susanna had returned home, she caught a terrible cold. She was so feverish and sick, her family hadn’t even gone to church.

  Now, here it was, a little over two weeks later, and they came to church only to discover that while some people were cordial, others, like this woman in line, were far more standoffish.

  Disappointment coursed through her. She’d been so excited to finally make friends, but it had become evident that even the Christmas holiday wasn’t inspiring many of her neighbors to become more cordial.

  As she scooped a small amount of pasta salad onto her plate, Susanna decided to stop worrying about things. Of course it was going to take time to make friends! She was simply being sensitive.

  “I heard that you thought someone shot at you,” a dark-haired woman on the other side of the blonde said.