His Promise Read online

  Dedication

  For everyone who loves dogs, especially tiny, opinionated dachshunds.

  Epigraphs

  I will be filled with joy because of You. I will sing praises to your name, O Most High.

  Psalm 9:2

  Prayers go up, Blessings come down.

  Amish Proverb

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraphs

  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

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Acknowledgments

  Meet Shelley Shepard Gray

  Letter from the Author

  Questions for Discussion

  Cranberry Salad

  Cherry Chocolate Christmas Cookies

  Coconut Pecan Bars

  About the Author

  Also by Shelley Shepard Gray

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  “It’s snowing again,” Grace King said to Snooze. “If it keeps up, we’re gonna have a white Christmas. Won’t that be something?”

  Snooze, the five-year-old dachshund who hadn’t been named by accident, opened one eye, stared at her for a few seconds, then darted under his favorite quilt. Grace knew he wouldn’t reappear for several hours.

  He was truly the most unsocial animal she’d ever cared for, and that was saying a lot. She’d taken care of a variety of animals during her three years as a professional pet sitter. From pampered felines to retired greyhounds to ornery parrots, she’d sat for them all. Grace even once watched a high school science teacher’s iguana named Sam. With every animal, she’d managed to find something to connect with. Sometimes, all it took was a special treat or a couple of games of fetch. Or, in Sam’s case, fresh crickets.

  Snooze, all fourteen pounds of stubbornness, was starting to be her most difficult charge. No matter what she did, the little wire-haired dachshund didn’t want anything to do with her. It was frustrating, but at least she knew the reason.

  Snooze was pouting.

  He missed his family and was extremely displeased that he was having to spend Christmas with her. Only her.

  Grace knew exactly how he felt.

  It wasn’t supposed to be this way. When Mr. and Mrs. Lee booked her services back in September, they’d kindly told Grace that she should feel free to have any of her siblings or one of her girlfriends keep her company while she lived in their big house for two weeks.

  Imagining quiet evenings spent on their soft leather couches in front of their fireplace with her best friend, Jennifer, or one of her sisters, Grace jumped at the chance. She was the second oldest of six children—and while she loved, loved, loved them all, she was also the quietest of the King family.

  They were a noisy and gregarious lot. They were easily excited, had definite opinions about everything, and were constantly in each other’s business. Grace sometimes found them to be overwhelming.

  No, that wasn’t quite true. The truth was that she found them to be overwhelming most of the time. She wasn’t exactly sure why God had given her a quiet demeanor in the midst of such a rambunctious crowd, but He had.

  Usually, she took her family’s boisterousness in stride, but at Christmas everything just seemed to get worse.

  Christmas at their house was anything but plain and simple. Though they didn’t have a tree or strung lights from the roof, her mother would hang Christmas cards down the banisters, light cranberry-scented candles from morning till night, and even sing Christmas carols to herself when she didn’t think anyone was listening. And then there was the baking. And the wrapping. And the dozen holiday projects in various stages of completion scattered all through the house.

  It was a little bit chaotic for someone like Grace, who enjoyed the quiet almost as much as she enjoyed being alone with a good book.

  Grace had planned to use the Lees’ beautiful, roomy, quiet house as her Christmas escape. She’d planned to attach Snooze’s leash to his collar and take him home for a few hours every day so everyone could play with him. Then, when they were both tired, she’d usher him back to his fancy house, where they could revel in the peace and quiet.

  But almost as soon as she’d said good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Lee—and got snubbed by Snooze—the Lord rearranged her plans: Mamm’s parents contracted a bad case of the flu, and were so weak that the whole family—well, everyone except her—journeyed up to Ohio to spend the holiday at Mommi’s and Dawdi’s haus.

  Then Jennifer and her family decided to travel for the holiday as well.

  Now, to make matters worse, Grace’s only companion had turned out to be an unsocial dachshund who would rather sleep under an old quilt than spend time with her.

  She was feeling a little blue, and restless, too. None of the books she’d brought with her caught her interest. Neither did the puzzle she’d placed on the kitchen table.

  It seemed she was pouting, too.

  After staring out the window again, then surveying the sparkling clean and far-too quiet room, Grace came to a decision. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself. It was only day two of her fifteen-day job. Something had to be done.

  “Snooze, let’s go for a little walk.”

  The dog stuck out its tiny brown nose.

  “I see you thinking about it. Come on. It will be fun.”

  Snooze grumbled when she scooped him up into her arms, but didn’t try to wriggle free. Feeling encouraged, Grace clipped a leash to his collar and set him back down. Then she threw a scarf around her neck, stuffed her feet into boots she’d neatly placed by the door, grabbed her black cloak, and led Snooze outside.

  After closing the shiny black door behind her, she sighed in pleasure. The Lees’ front yard was a winter wonderland . . . rolling hills covered in white, clumps of trees and bushes arranged in artful arrangements, a lovely walkway meandering over to the side of the house, and bright-red cardinals perched on a black wrought-iron feeder. A couple of squirrels were chattering in the distance. It all looked and felt like something out of a Christmas card.

  “You surely have quite a home, Snooze,” she murmured.

  When the little dog squirmed, she smiled. “Jah, I bet you are ready to do your business.” Kneeling, she unclipped the leash so he could wander around the yard and sniff. She’d already learned that Snooze’s bathroom breaks never took too long. Usually after less than five minutes, he would be at her side, ready to get picked up and transported back into the house. Snooze didn’t seem to like getting his paws snowy.

  Just as he’d done every time before, Snooze gingerly walked a few steps, sniffed the ground. Circled, sniffed a holly bush. Paused. The squirrels in the distance chattered again. He raised his head toward them.

  Then, in a star
tling, lightning-fast move, he barked shrilly and took off running down a hill.

  Before she could react, he was out of sight.

  “Snooze? Snooze!” Feeling an odd combination of both shock and panic, Grace ran after him, the hem of her dark-green dress and apron brushing against the snow and soaking her stocking-covered legs.

  “Snooze! Come back!” Down the hill she went, following tiny footprints like a detective. Frantically calling out his name.

  But he didn’t come.

  Twenty yards into her run, she stopped gripping her cloak. And because she’d never fastened it, it slid off her shoulders. She left it on the ground, too afraid to look anywhere but at the paw prints in the snow. “Snooze! Snooze, come here, wouldja?”

  But still there was no answer.

  And then, to her dismay, there were no more tracks to be found. She could only surmise that he’d gone after one of those pesky squirrels into the woods, where the ground was covered with more mud and pine needles than snow.

  Standing there in the cold, her fingertips beginning to feel like ice, her cloak lying on the ground, and her head bare except for her white kapp, Grace forced herself to face the awful, awful truth.

  She’d just managed to lose her only companion—and her only responsibility—for the holiday.

  “Snooze!” she yelled out again. “Please, please come back!”

  Tears filled her eyes as she stepped forward. She was going to have to start wandering through the woods, all while praying that some fox or other wild animal hadn’t taken hold of the dog.

  “Snooze!” Her feet crunched on the blanket of frozen mud and pine needles. She reached out and moved a branch out of her path, really wishing she’d put on mittens.

  Squirrels scampered overhead, a hawk circled in the distance. Just as she pulled another branch out of her way, another scraped her cheek.

  The snow continued to fall, large flakes sticking to the branches surrounding her, clinging to her wool dress.

  And still, there was no sign of the dog.

  The tears that she’d tried to quell began trickling down her face. “Snooze? Here, pup.”

  She stopped again. She was now surrounded by trees and had no idea which way to go. No idea how to tempt one disagreeable dachshund to return to her side.

  Just as she was about to call his name again, she heard a loud rustling off to her left.

  With a cry of relief, she turned toward the noise. Then screamed as a man broke through a tangle of branches and rushed toward her.

  Chapter 2

  Just as Grace screamed again, the man raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, it’s okay!” he called out, lumbering through the woods like a bulldozer. “I heard you call out. Is Snooze—Wait, is that you, Grace?”

  Stunned that he’d spoken her name, Grace inhaled sharply, the frigid air burning her lungs. Gathering herself together, she eyed the Amish man dressed in a black stocking cap, black wool coat, and dark-blue pants. He could have been anyone . . . until she noticed his eyes.

  The very same light-brown eyes fringed with thick eyelashes that used to haunt her dreams. “John Michael Miller?” she asked at last, hardly able to believe it. Could it really be her sister Beth’s former boyfriend standing right in front of her?

  “Jah. It’s me.” His voice softened as he hurried toward her.

  While she stood there, half shaking from both the cold and the shock, he reached out and rubbed his gloved hands along her arms. “Grace, where is your coat? You must be freezing! And what are you doing out here in the woods?”

  He looked down at her with concern, his burly, tall body practically looming over her own slight frame.

  “I’ve lost Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s dog. Will you help me, John Michael?”

  “Jah. Of course. This has happened before.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I live right next door, Silly,” he replied. “Snooze is surely the cutest little dachshund I’ve ever seen . . . but, I fear, he’s a bit of a handful, too.”

  Silly. That’s what he’d called her when dating Beth almost three years ago. Though it was bitter cold out and snowflakes were sticking to her face and clothing, she felt herself heat up in embarrassment. That pet name brought up so many memories, most of them reminding her of just how awkward she used to be.

  Fearing he’d spy her telltale blush, she turned to scan the fields. “Where has Snooze gone in the past?”

  “He likes to chase the squirrels, then gets tired quickly. We usually find him near my compost pile.”

  This adventure was getting worse and worse. Now, if she did find the little dachshund, there was a mighty good chance he was going to be smelly and in need of a bath. “Which way is that?”

  “I’ll take you. But first, let’s get you warm.”

  It took her a moment to register that he was taking off his wool coat and intending for her to wear it. “I don’t need your coat.”

  “Jah. You do.” He held it up. “You’re freezing. Let me help you.”

  She was freezing. And the snow was still coming down, beginning to soak through her dress. “All right,” she said as she slid her arms into the sinfully warm sleeves, thinking that she should offer to give it back. But even without the coat, he was dressed far more appropriately for the weather than she was.

  Grace pushed the coat sleeves up just far enough to be able to fasten two of the buttons and glanced at him. “It’s toasty warm. I feel better already.”

  “I bet it’s warm. It looks like it’s trying to swallow you whole.” He chuckled. “Looks like my arms are still longer than yours. Give me an arm.”

  She held out one and silently watched him roll the sleeves. Now she’d be able to pick up Snooze when and if they ever found him.

  “Danke,” she said after he rolled up the second sleeve.

  “It’s nothing.” Looking far more serious, he inhaled. “Grace, maybe we should talk about—”

  “Snooze,” she said firmly. “We need to locate that hund before he either gets eaten by a wild animal or freezes to death.”

  His eyes lit up. “Looks like your imagination is alive and well. Come on, then. Follow me.”

  When he turned around and started going back in the direction from which he came, she followed in his footsteps. As she trailed behind him, staring at his back in a mixture of relief, hope, and confusion, Grace couldn’t help but remember how things used to be.

  Like many other Amish families in the county, the Millers had come from up north. Back when she was still a teenager, she’d thought Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania, sounded almost cosmopolitan. And in her naiveté, eighteen-year-old John Michael was everything she, and most of the residents of Horse Cave, Kentucky, were not. He had an air about him that was both worldly and mature. That attitude, combined with his dark-brown hair and brown eyes, had set just about every Amish teenaged girl’s heart in the county to go a-patter.

  Her sister Beth had been no exception. From practically the first moment she’d seen John Michael, she was smitten.

  But for nine months, their parents encouraged them to take things slow. Every Sunday, whether they were attending church at someone’s house or it was an off week, John Michael would come over for Sunday supper.

  Beth would beam at him and generally act like he was an honored guest. To Grace’s shame, Beth wasn’t the only one. Grace had to try hard to quell her own crush, but wasn’t able to entirely hide her feelings. He started calling her “Silly” and treating her like a lost child. She was sixteen at the time, yet sure she was mature and grown up. His pet name had stung badly.

  Then, just when Beth was sure they were going to become engaged, John Michael abruptly broke things off. And followed, in a move no one in her family could understand, with volunteering for the Hart County Fire Department. They had never heard him say anything about the fire department. They’d all assumed he was going to take over his parents’ farm.

  “You okay back there, Grace?” he called out. “You�
�re being mighty quiet.”

  Though she ached to tell him she wasn’t a chattering little girl anymore, that she was almost twenty, she answered simply. “I am fine.”

  “Ah.” After another few seconds, he cleared his throat. “I know you’re worried about Snooze, but I promise you that he is most likely fine. It’s been my experience that animals have a better sense of direction than people. I imagine he’ll find his way back by nightfall.”

  Snooze! Had he even crossed her mind during the last five minutes? No, he had not. What kind of terrible pet sitter had she become?

  Getting her head back to the task at hand, she attempted to sound more hopeful than she felt. “I certainly hope so.”

  He stopped and turned around, concern etched across his features. “If he isn’t lounging near the compost pile, I promise that I won’t let you look for him alone.”

  “That is too kind of you.”

  “He’s a sweet little guy. Of course I don’t want him lost in a snowstorm. Or you, either.”

  The smile and concerned expression on his face was kind. Almost brotherly.

  It was everything proper.

  So why did it chafe so much?

  Smiling slightly, he added, “And of course, I’m not going to let you shoulder this burden alone. How did you come to be looking after him anyway?”

  “I am a pet sitter. It’s my job.”

  “You are? Since when?”

  She hated how he sounded, like she was a little girl trying on her mother’s clothes. Though it was prideful, she lifted her chin.

  “Since three years ago.”

  “Really? You’ve been working all this time?” he asked as he took care to walk by her side. “That would have been, what? When you were seventeen?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “How old are you now? Eighteen?”

  “I’m nineteen. Nearly twenty.” Almost as soon as she said the words, she wished she could take them back. She sounded so full of herself.

  But John Michael only looked amused. His lips twitched. “You’re right. I still remember that your birthday is right near Jesus’s. Just a few weeks after, yes?”