Love Finds You in Paradise, Pennsylvania Read online

  BY LOREE LOUGH

  summeRSIde

  PRESS

  Love Finds You in Paradise, Pennsylvania

  © 2009 by Loree Lough

  ISBN 978-1-934770-66-5

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  Scripture quotations marked KJV are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  The town depicted in this book is a real place, but all characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or events are purely coincidental.

  Cover and Interior Design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group www.mullerhaus.net

  Published by Summerside Press, Inc., 11024 Quebec Circle, Bloomington, Minnesota 55438 | www.summersidepress.com

  Fall in love with Summerside.

  Printed in the USA.

  Dedication

  For Larry, light of my life and stirrer of my soul, for whom I’m happy to obey 1 CORINTHIANS 7:10: “Let not the wife depart from her husband.”

  Special mention to Rachel and Connie, the best editors ever; to Jason and Carlton, who welcomed this humble author with open arms; to my once-abused and now-spoiled dog, who put aside his Frisbee addiction long enough for me to write this story; and last but certainly not least, to Sandie Bricker, the first to say, “Send something to Summerside!”

  WHEN FRENCH HUGUENOT SETTLERS ARRIVED in southeastern Pennsylvania in 1712, they must have suspected that their beautiful new homeland might one day be called Paradise. The name was chosen by one of the town’s founders, David Witmer, who was a friend to George Washington and supervisor of a section of the Philadelphia and Lancaster Turnpike. Today, that road is Lincoln Highway, where historic inns and restaurants like Revere Tavern have stood since the 1700s. Steeped in rich history, the town’s friendly people and peaceful vistas inspired the 1994 film Trapped in Paradise, which stars Nicholas Cage. Home to the National Christmas Center and the National Toy Train Museum, Paradise boasts dozens of gift and craft shops, antiques stores, delightful eateries, quaint B and Bs, and a thriving Amish community. Visitors to Paradise can view acres of rolling green countryside while steaming along the tracks of the Strasburg Rail Road and wave to Amish farmers who travel in traditional horse-drawn buggies. Few leave this township without tipping their hats to David Witmer, for he truly understood the meaning of Paradise.

  Prologue

  A warm wind whiffled through the open car window, mussing Julia’s hair. Turning onto Lincoln Highway, she drove past shops and businesses still bustling with activity, though the workday had nearly ended. Cars and minivans bearing license plates from all over the country still sat in the Basketville parking lot, and even the Amish Trader still seemed to be doing a brisk business. Julia couldn’t help but smile.

  Before returning to her birthplace, she’d gone out of her way to avoid crowds. When she’d first come back “home,” she’d taken long roundabout routes to get to and from her job in Lancaster just to avoid the noise and traffic that went hand in hand with the flutter of tourists who flocked to Paradise every day of the year. And now? Julia laughed to herself, because she’d gotten almost as caught up in the happy beehive of activity as the sightseers themselves!

  After steering onto Pine Hill Road, she turned up the volume to the song playing on WJTL…the only radio station her old beat-up sedan could pull in. Why not sing along? Just because her attitude toward church and God had changed over the years didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy her favorite hymn.

  Should she credit “Amazing Grace” for the calm that settled over her? Or was it the knowledge that just over the next lush green hill, her house would come into view? The questions broadened her grin. If anyone had told her six months ago that she’d move back to Paradise, Julia would’ve pooh-poohed the idea. And if they’d suggested she’d be happy here? I’d have laughed out loud!

  No matter how hectic her day had been, pulling into the driveway of her very own place felt good—so good that Julia almost felt guilty. What had she done in her twenty-eight years to earn three rambling acres and a two-story house, complete with a white picket fence? Nothing, that’s what, she told herself.

  And just that fast, an all-too-familiar sadness pricked at her consciousness. “Shake it off, Julia. Put it out of your mind, right now!” Her take-it-on-the-chin attitude about the hard knocks she’d survived resurfaced as she took another breath of clean country air. So what if she didn’t have a single living family member? And so what if her dreams of a husband and children could never come true? She’d met some wonderful people, and she had a good job and her four-legged friends at the Wolf Sanctuary. Lots of people would count themselves lucky to have her life. “Some aspects of it, anyway….”

  Chapter One

  “Why would anybody do such a thing?”

  Simon had no idea how to answer the five-year-old boy, so he shrugged helplessly. He’d stopped by to visit Levi—the closest thing to a son he’d likely ever have—and came to a halt when he realized what had commanded the Gundens’ full attention.

  Levi’s father ran a hand over the bullet holes that had pierced his white-painted barn. “Gottes wille,” he said, nodding.

  Simon stared slack-jawed at William Gunden. Having known the Gundens more than a decade, he considered this man a friend; but while he had a lot in common with the family, the differences between them and him never seemed more obvious than at times like this. Far be it from him to tell William how to raise his children, but his conscience hammered at him to say something, anything, that might erase the look of shock and fear from Levi’s face. “The world can be a strange place,” he said, “and not everybody is kind and loving.” Simon got onto one knee and plopped a palm onto each of the boy’s shoulders. “Sometimes people make bad choices, choices that hurt others.”

  Levi’s blond brows drew together. “Shooting at our barn wasn’t a bad choice,” he snapped. “It was mean.”

  While Simon couldn’t have agreed more, he didn’t say so. Already he’d overstepped his bounds, as evidenced by the stern expression on William’s face.

  “It is hard, I know,” William said, “to understand such things. But God does not call us to understand. He calls us only to obey.”

  Crossing both arms over his chest, Levi shook his head. If the look on Levi’s face was any indicator, the boy would’ve given anything to state the opposite. Loudly.

  “It is by God’s grace,” William continued, “that they were such poor shots.” Winking at Simon, he added, “Missed the cows, there, and the horses, too.” Then he pointed at his youngest son. “Levi, go to the house and see if your mama needs help collecting the eggs. And tell her I will be up soon for lunch.”

  The boy gave the bullet holes one last glance and did as he was told. Only when he was out of earshot did Simon say, “I worry about you, William.”

  The farmer stroked his dark beard. “And why is that?”

  “You’re way out here in the middle of nowhere, for starters. Sitting ducks for the wackos and weirdos who do things like”—he gestured toward the damage in the barn wall—“like that. At least let me call the cops and report it, so they can drive by once in a while and keep an eye on—”

  William held up a hand. “No, Simon. You must not involve the police. It will only make things worse. Remember what happened when the Beachys talked to them.”

  I
f only Simon could forget.

  Adjusting his straw hat, William smiled. “Do not worry for us.” Then he gave Simon’s hand a hearty shake. “But now I am keeping you from your work, and from my own as well,” he said. “Remember as you go that we are safe in God’s hands.”

  Simon thought about that during the half-hour drive to the Wolf Sanctuary. About a year ago, a carload of rowdy teenage boys had decided to target the Beachy farm. Night after night they had assaulted the family, first paintballing the house and then tossing cinder blocks onto the mailbox. Throughout the summer the attacks continued, until a neighbor dialed 911 to report that a little Amish girl, on her way to the schoolhouse, had been knocked unconscious by a full soda can tossed from a passing car. The boys—identified by the concerned citizen—served a year in jail for their crimes, and not long after their release, the Beachys’ buggy was forced from the road, killing their horse and eldest son.

  As occasional vet to the Beachys, Simon had attended the funeral and watched as they quietly and uncomplainingly buried their boy. Then, as now, he couldn’t help but think that, somewhere, one of those vengeful teens smirked at the knowledge that the peace-loving Amish refused to report even deadly attacks.

  He breathed deeply as the sanctuary’s sign came into view. Few things satisfied him more than time spent here. The strong, magnificent beasts behaved as though they knew he’d come to help them, and for the most part, they cooperated with his exams. Chuckling under his breath as he slipped through the sturdy chain-link gate, Simon glanced at proof not quite healed on his forearm that not every member of the pack agreed with the need for periodic veterinary checkups.

  “Attaboy, Casper,” he said. Crouching slowly, he extended a hand. The wolf approached slowly, head down and tail tucked as he sniffed Simon’s palm then happily accepted a doggy treat. Casper was one of the sanctuary’s few outcasts, and Simon made a point of paying special attention to him. He pitied any creature—two-legged or four—that didn’t enjoy a sense of belonging. But here, as in the wild, wolves had rules, and only they understood what Casper had done to earn his shunning.

  Without warning, Casper’s ears perked and he stared at something beyond Simon’s right shoulder. Simon turned, too. Neither he nor the wolf could afford to let their guard down for an instant, for if a member of one of the sanctuary’s four packs decided that Casper shouldn’t communicate with Simon or enjoy a treat, things could turn ugly in an eyeblink.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted the source of the wolf’s curiosity—a young woman crooning softly to Fawn, another outcast. Clad in denim coveralls and tiny white sneakers, she was oblivious to him, though he crouched no more than twenty yards from her. “She’s mighty easy on the eyes, isn’t she, buddy,” he whispered.

  Casper sat on his haunches and gave Simon a big doggy grin then licked his lips, hinting that he’d like another of the biscuits hidden in his pal’s shirt pocket. Simon carefully placed two more near the animal’s forepaws and slowly rose to his nearly-six-foot height. “Enjoy, buddy. I’ll be back later to say g’bye. Right now, I’ve got things—and people—to check out.”

  Casper’s demeanor changed the instant he realized that Simon would leave. Eyes wide and ears flat, he mouthed the treats and hurried toward the thick underbrush to hide from those who might steal his snack and inflict severe punishment for delighting in creature comforts. Simon shook his head and wished life could be gentler for the big white wolf. Things were better here than in the wild, where Casper would surely have starved. Still…

  A husky female voice floated to him on the warm spring breeze, interrupting his thoughts. “Such a pretty girl,” she sang. “You like gettin’ your belly scratched, don’t you?”

  Amazingly, she’d coaxed the wolf onto her back. More amazingly, Fawn wallowed and whimpered with gratitude, paws digging happily at the air…until she spotted Simon. In one swift move, she stood on all fours, head tilted slightly to the side, assessing the situation. Recognizing his scent, she relaxed some, but he didn’t fail to note the way she’d scoped out a potential escape route, should she need one. Nor did he fail to notice the way the young woman’s bright smile dimmed. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to startle you girls.”

  She shrugged one white-sleeved shoulder and nodded toward the treeline. “No biggie. Better you than one of those bullies over there.”

  Simon followed her gaze. Sure enough, five wolves stood along the pines, watching with suspicious interest. “Murphy’s the biggest one,” he said. “Alpha male of Pack One. He’s a pretty gentle sort—”

  “—usually,” she finished.

  True enough, he thought. But how would she know that unless she spent a lot of time around here, too? He would have asked if those big, long-lashed eyes hadn’t distracted him. Simon had never seen eyes that color before. At least not on a person. Once while in vet school, he’d assisted in a delicate operation on a lion. Just before the anesthetic took effect, he’d looked right into her big, golden eyes and—

  “They’re all pretty gentle, most of the time.”

  He watched her tuck both hands into the back pockets of her coveralls, but not before he caught sight of pale-pink fingernails. “You’re, ah, sorta new here, right?”

  Another shrug, this time from the other tiny, white-sleeved shoulder. “Guess that depends on how you define ‘new.’”

  When she tilted her head, a length of shiny brown hair cascaded over that same shoulder. Like a cinnamony waterfall, he thought. Blinking, Simon removed his Orioles baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair, wondering where on earth that thought had come from. He decided to try a different tack. “Name’s Thomas,” he said. “Simon Thomas.”

  Her eyes widened, and a glimmer of the smile she’d given Fawn brightened her face. “So you’re the vet who volunteers his services here. I’ve heard good things about you. Julia Spencer,” she said, drawing quotes in the air, “‘ordinary volunteer.’”

  Nothing “ordinary” about you! he wanted to say. “How long have you been coming here?” he said instead.

  Fawn chose that moment to remind them that they had an audience near the pines—and that it had decided to move forward. She darted for the safety of the scrubby pines that ringed the main enclosure.

  “I love them all,” Julia said, narrowing her eyes at the advancing pack members, “but sometimes I’d like to give those guys a piece of my mind for being such terrorists.” Satisfied that Casper and Fawn had returned to their small assigned thicket, the others backed off.

  He knew how Julia felt. “It’s instinct in its purest form, and we’ll never fully understand what makes them force one of their own to live alone.”

  Her sigh rode another breeze, caressing his ears and his heart in the same breath. Simon didn’t for the life of him know what was going on. He hadn’t felt this addled about a woman since before meeting Georgia! Get a grip, dude, before you say something you’ll regret.

  “I know. It’s just tough watching those two live their lives from the periphery. Family life is so close they could touch it, if they tried. But they know if they do, they’re doomed.”

  “Sounds like you’ve seen an encounter or two.”

  “Just one. But it was one too many,” she said, standing. “Those bullies over there nearly killed Fawn.”

  Simon remembered it all too well, along with the frantic call from Matt asking him to come and shoot the she-wolf full of antibiotics and stitch up her wounds. The memory of it was written all over her pretty face, a sadness that simmered in her soul and glittered in her big eyes. If he didn’t think it would spook the pack, he’d have wrapped her petite little body in a comforting “there-there” hug. “So how often do you come out here?”

  Now both shoulders lifted. “Not nearly as often as I’d like, but I try to put in a few hours every weekend.” A slanted grin put a dimple in her right cheek when she added, “Never know what you might miss, not being here.”

  A picture of her, wrapped i
n his arms and looking up into his face, flashed through his mind. Simon blinked. And swallowed. He’d blame the sun or the unrelenting cold for his goofy behavior, except that the temperature, last he checked on this springlike Saturday, had been fifty degrees, and a massive oak sheltered them from the sun. For all he knew, she had a husband and kids waiting for her at home….

  Home.

  Not his favorite place since Georgia died, and Simon did everything humanly possible to put off going there. He hated every room in the big Victorian she’d fallen in love with. Hated sleeping in that enormous bed all alone. Hated the oppressing silence. Simon cleared his throat. “So, are you finished for the day?”

  “I promised to ready-up a few things in the gift shop, and then I have to pay a visit to the Gunden farm.”

  “Oh?” Grateful for the change of subject, Simon headed for the gate. Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d agree to let him buy her a cup of coffee so they could continue getting acquainted. Surely her husband and kids wouldn’t mind sharing her for a few minutes.

  “They bought a parcel of land,” she explained, falling into step beside him, “and I’ve agreed to handle filing the deed and stuff.”

  “So you’re a lawyer, then….” He slowed his pace so she wouldn’t have to half run on those short legs of hers to keep up with him.

  Julia nodded. “I enjoy working with the Amish.” She giggled. “They’re quick to pay and always insist on adding a homemade pie or jar of jelly to the fee.”

  “The shelves in my pantry are lined with stuff like that,” he told her, grinning. “I’ve never figured out a polite way to tell those gracious ladies that a man living alone can only eat so much in a year.”

  “So you’re a bachelor, eh?”

  Her “eh” echoed in his ears. Odd that he’d never run into her before; from the sound of things, she’d grown up in the area. “Not a bachelor, exactly.” He hated telling people that his wife had died. Not only did it remind him of those horrible last days with Georgia, it never failed to paint an “aw, poor baby” expression on the face of the listener.