The Proposal at Siesta Key Read online

  DEDICATION

  To the members of the Buggy Bunch. You ladies

  have inspired me more than you will ever know!

  Thank you for everything you do.

  The author is grateful for being allowed to reprint

  the Chocolate Pecan Pie recipe from Our Family’s

  Favorite Recipes by Clara Coblentz.

  The Shrock’s Homestead

  9943 Copperhead Rd. N.W.

  Sugarcreek, OH 44681

  EPIGRAPH

  Open my eyes to see the wonderful truths in your instructions.

  PSALM 119:18

  Growing old is easy—the hard part is growing up.

  AMISH PROVERB

  CONTENTS

  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

  Epilogue

  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

  The moment Penny Troyer turned the dead bolt on the front door, she knew it was a big mistake.

  No matter what her mother was doing, or where she was, she always, always heard the distinctive snap of the front door dead bolt disengaging.

  Penny froze, feeling vaguely like a burglar caught red-handed, and mentally began to count to five.

  She barely made it to three.

  With all the fanfare of a trio of trumpeter swans, her mother’s high-pitched call echoed down the hall. “Penny? Penny, what are you doing?”

  Penny bit back an irritated retort—something she’d been doing more and more lately. “Nothing.”

  “It must have been something. I am fairly positive I heard you at the door.”

  God had really blessed her mother with hearing that was just too good. “I’m simply going to sit on the front porch.”

  Practically before Penny had time to take another breath, her mother appeared in the entryway. Her hands clutched the sides of her apron, and concern shone in her truly beautiful periwinkle-colored eyes. “Why?”

  The question was so, so unnecessary, Penny almost smiled. But that would’ve been the wrong thing to do. Instead, she kept her voice even and respectful. “No real reason. I simply wanted to sit outside.”

  “But you’ll go no further?”

  The correct answer was the one she’d given for the last twelve of her twenty-four years. No, she would not. She would stay close. Free from harm.

  But she simply wasn’t sure if she could do that anymore. “I don’t plan to go anywhere. But I might.”

  Her mother froze mid-nod. “What in the world does that mean?”

  “It means that I’m far too old to be forced to promise to stay on my parents’ front porch,” she replied, almost patiently.

  Immediately, hurt filled her mother’s expression. “You know I like you close because I care about you, dear.”

  Penny knew that. She really did.

  But of course, she knew that her mother asked for other reasons, too. They both knew those reasons. And they both knew that her mother would do just about anything to avoid speaking of them.

  But today, Penny had finally had enough.

  Fortifying herself for the drama that was about to ensue, she gestured toward the open doorway. “Mamm, why don’t you come out on the porch, too? I think we need to talk.”

  “Penny, you know I don’t have time to lollygag. Your grandparents are coming over for supper.”

  “Yes, and I know that everything is ready. I helped you set the table, make the casseroles, and marinate the chicken.”

  For a moment, Penny was sure her mother was about to argue, but then at last, she followed Penny out to the swing situated exactly in the middle of the wide front porch. Surrounding them were her mother’s carefully tended pink roses and a quartet of blooming pansies. Daisies, snapdragons, and begonias lined the footpath of their tidy, one-story home in Pinecraft, Florida—a small Amish community in the heart of Sarasota.

  Once they were seated side by side, the fabric of her mother’s blue dress overlapping with Penny’s own teal-colored one, Penny tried to think of the best way to say what was on her mind. But as she mentally tried out different approaches, she knew there wasn’t a single explanation that would be accepted.

  Sometimes there really was no way to deliver bad news, even if that news was only going to be regarded as bad by one of them.

  Steeling her spine, she decided to go for the direct approach. “Mother, it has now been twelve years since Lissy died. She’s been gone for half my life.”

  Her mother flinched. “We don’t need to talk about your sister.”

  “Jah, we do,” Penny said gently, though taking care to weave resolve into her tone. “Mamm, everything we do is a result of what happened to Lissy.” Before her mother could get up and walk away, Penny wrapped her fingers around her mother’s wrist and held on tight. “Mamm, what happened to Lissy was a terrible thing. I know that.”

  Before her eyes, her mother aged another ten years—as she always did when she thought about what happened to Lissy. “It was worse than terrible.”

  Yes. Yes, it was. One winter’s day twelve years ago, back when they’d lived in Ohio, Penny’s older sister Elizabeth—Lissy to all who’d known her—had been lured away by a very, very bad man. He’d raped her. He’d beaten her. And then he’d left her in a field. She’d died alone and in pain.

  The event had sent shockwaves through the whole community, both English and Amish. Everyone in the area had attended the memorial service and contributed to funds set up in Lissy’s name. Some had even begun neighborhood watch groups. Within a week, the police caught the man who later confessed to the attack. A week after that, the man died in his jail cell without having stood trial.

  Many members in the community had written editorials in the paper about how happy they were that justice had been served, but for the three remaining members of the Troyer family, the man’s death hardly mattered. Nothing mattered except their loss. They were nestled in a dark fog of grief, oblivious of everything but the passing of each never-ending, painful day. But as the weeks passed, it became obvious that nothing was ever going to ease their pain, and nothing was ever going to bring Lissy back.

  Two years later, her parents decided to move to Sarasota, claiming they needed a change of scenery. Someplace fresh to start anew. Somewhere that would never be cold and snowy. Where there were no reminders of that horrible day.

  Penny had been eager for the move, too.

  But though they now lived in a place where the sun always shone and nobody knew about their hardships unless they were told, the grief and worry in her family hadn’t changed.

  If anything, it began to affect everything in their lives.

  Over the years, instead of venturing out into their new world, her parents had become more reclusive. Th
eir fears had begun to center on Penny, and their restrictions on her had become more and more pronounced. At first, Penny had been glad for all the rules. She’d been afraid of strangers, and most of her nights had been haunted by memories of her sister and visions of what must have happened at the kidnapper’s hands.

  Eventually, however, the nightmares faded. As she became accustomed to their new life, Penny’s heart had begun to ease. She’d started to think about Lissy in terms of her life instead of her death—she remembered the way Lissy had loved to can vegetables and how she could eat a whole jar of pickles in a single day. Penny recalled Lissy’s infectious laugh and the way she’d hated to get up in the morning. In fact, she’d been almost insufferable until she’d had a cup of coffee. And as these memories flourished, Penny had realized that Lissy would have hated for her little sister to do nothing but mourn for the rest of her life.

  And, deep down, she’d known Lissy would have been right.

  Penny began to feel the pinch of her circumstances. Her parents’ refusal to see her as a grown woman instead of a susceptible child was aggravating. Still, she’d kept silent out of respect, but there was no denying that their rules and fears had begun to chafe. After a while, it had festered, but now it pained her.

  And when she’d woken up this morning, Penny knew she couldn’t take it another day.

  Not for one more hour.

  “Mamm, you and Daed are going to have to give me more freedom.” Truly, she was proud of her firm tone of voice.

  But even that didn’t make an impression. “Don’t be silly. You have freedom, Penny.”

  “Not really. You haven’t let me take a job. You don’t even like me walking anywhere alone.”

  “That’s because it’s not safe.”

  “Mamm, if I was still a child, I would agree with you. But I am a grown woman. Of course it’s safe.”

  The skin around her mother’s lips tightened. “Things can happen.”

  “That is true, but I will be careful.” She ached to point out that she always tried her best to avoid eye contact with strangers. She even fought with her blond curls every morning, taming them as best she could so they would stay neatly confined under her kapp.

  “Bad things can happen even when one is careful.”

  “I know that. But I can’t live like this any longer. I have a feeling if you let yourself actually see me as I am, you would see that, too.” As she felt her mother’s blue eyes skim over her tan arms, loose teal dress, and blue rubber flipflops, Penny waited patiently. She knew she was dressed exactly like every other twenty-four-year-old Amish woman in Sarasota. “Why, many women my age are married and have their own children.”

  “Is that what this is about? You are wanting a husband?”

  “Nee!” How could her mother have jumped from her needing to be able to walk down the street by herself to wanting a husband?

  Her mother’s expression gentled. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll all go to more gatherings. You’ll meet a man.”

  “You don’t understand. I am not simply looking for a husband. I am looking for friends, activities.” Around a sigh, Penny added, “I am looking for a life.”

  “You have a life. And a good, safe one, too. Daughter, everything we’ve done has been to protect you.”

  “Jah. But it’s also been to protect you and Daed, too. Mamm, you and Daed must loosen your hold on me.”

  “I’ll speak to your father. Perhaps we can come up with a plan. . . .”

  “I don’t want to wait for a plan. Tonight, there is a gathering at Pinecraft Park. A missionary group, the Knoxx Family, is speaking. I’m meeting Violet Kaufmann at the pavilion to hear them.”

  “Violet?” More worry lines appeared around her mother’s eyes, illuminated by the setting sun. “But she’s not Amish anymore.”

  “I know. But she is a nice girl from a nice family.” She was also one of Penny’s few friends. “I’m going to go with her.”

  “Your father is going to be upset when he hears about this.”

  “I know and I’m sorry about that. But I can’t live my life trying to make him happy with me.” Especially since she knew that nothing was going to ever truly make her father happy again. “Please try to understand my point of view, Mamm. I feel like I’m trapped. No one wants to feel like they are living in confinement.”

  “I’m sorry, child. But you know I cannot support this . . . this whim of yours.” She paused, looking as if she was about to add something more, but then merely stood up and walked back inside.

  Penny slumped against the back of the wooden swing. In that moment she knew she had two choices. She could either back down so she wouldn’t hurt her parents . . . or she could finally do what Lissy would’ve wanted and live her life.

  And suddenly, her decision was so very easy. Everyone at some point in their life had to stop being someone’s child and start being their own person.

  It seemed that it was finally time to do that.

  With a new resolve in her heart, Penny stood up and started walking down the street toward town. It was time.

  CHAPTER 2

  Thank you, Michael Knoxx, for your wonderful and truly inspiring testimony!” Amos Nolt boomed into the microphone. As everyone in the pavilion clapped politely, he continued. “You and your family’s presence have been a blessing to us all. Now, let’s give the Knoxx Family another round of applause!”

  While the audience clapped, Michael nodded his thanks to their sponsor, smiled at the crowd, and then stepped down from the platform with a feeling of relief. He hadn’t known how much longer he was going to be able to last up there. The skin around his prosthesis was feeling pretty bad. Either he’d managed to get a scrape along his scar or he needed to get the top of his prosthesis readjusted. The skin that had healed long ago currently felt as raw as it ever had.

  There was not a minute to dwell on his aches and pains, however, because he was immediately surrounded by well-wishers who had been listening to him from all corners of Pinecraft Park.

  “Danke, Michael,” a man about his father’s age said as he clasped his hand in an iron grip. “Your words were what I needed to hear today.”

  “I’m glad my story meant something to ya,” Michael said.

  “It meant more than something,” the gentleman said quietly as more men and even some children edged their way closer. “It meant the world.”

  Michael took in the man’s fierce expression, wondering what had made his story of survival resonate so much. Surely being stuck in a ravine and losing half a leg was a bad thing—but meaning the world? He wasn’t so sure about that.

  But of course, that wasn’t the correct response. “I’m grateful you came. Danke.” As circumspectly as he could, he glanced toward the horizon. It was after seven o’clock now. Shadows were appearing around the citrus trees and on the shuffleboard court. The day was almost done.

  He still had more hands to shake and people to talk to, however. Including one small towheaded boy who was gazing up at him with shining eyes.

  “I was in an accident three years ago,” he blurted. “But I didn’t have to have my leg cut off like you did.”

  The child’s expression was so earnest, it eased some of Michael’s tension. Actually, he was suddenly finding it hard to keep from smiling. His amputated leg never failed to interest young boys. “That is something to be thankful for. Ain’t so?”

  The boy nodded solemnly. “Do you ever miss your right foot?”

  Michael’s lips twitched. Leave it to a child to get to the heart of things. “Jah.”

  “Does it hurt where they cut it off?”

  “Not usually.”

  “But sometimes it does?”

  Michael nodded. “Jah. Sometimes it does.” It was a struggle to keep his expression easy and kind. His leg had begun to throb something awful. In a few minutes, he feared he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on anything but how much he wanted to sit down and remove his prosthesis. It was as if that c
entralized pain was intent on eating away at every bit of goodness inside him.

  The boy tugged at one of his pant legs. “Want to see my hurt?”

  Good manners said he should nod. He should kneel down and give the child the attention he deserved. However, Michael had a very strong feeling that if he even tried to kneel there was a very good chance he wouldn’t be able to get up on his own.

  “Maybe you can show me later,” he said. “After I sit down for a bit.”

  Disappointment filled the boy’s gaze. “Oh.”

  “Sorry, son,” he muttered. “We can talk later.” When the boy turned away, Michael scanned the area. The sun had continued its way down the horizon, and with it, most of the men and women were either walking down the street or pedaling away. The thinning crowds made it easy to locate his sister and brother. They were standing a good five feet away grinning at him like fools. They also weren’t doing one single, solitary thing to help.

  He didn’t blame them. They had no idea he was feeling like someone was slowly, steadily driving a nail into his knee. And even after all this time, he knew they still enjoyed the way the audience crowded around him after he spoke. They were proud of him. Proud of his story. Proud of the way he’d survived for twenty-four hours at the bottom of a ravine after a bicycle accident.

  And, because none of them took one another too seriously, they also enjoyed watching Michael squirm under all the attention he received.

  Evan always said Michael’s celebrity status was his cross to bear.

  Because his testimony was always the main focus of their family’s events, his brother and sister did most everything behind the scenes. Evan dragged most of their luggage around, as Michael’s condition made holding even a duffel bag difficult.

  For most of the year, he and his family toured, speaking to anyone and everyone interested in hearing them. When they’d first started these events, their parents had simply referred to them as the Knoxx Family, because they wanted their message of evangelism to be the focus, not the name of their group.

  Wherever they went, they were well received. They visited prisons, Amish and Mennonite churches, community auctions, and all manner of Gospel revivals and gatherings. They spoke to crowds, offering a few songs, a wealth of experiences, and shared stories about their belief in the Almighty.