Her Secret Amish Child Read online

  Noah almost cracked a smile as he half walked, half dragged Cocoa outside.

  “She’s a bit of a handful for him, but I’m hoping they’ll soon get used to each other.” Maddie smiled at Jesse’s questioning look. “Cocoa was my Christmas gift to Noah.”

  “Nice gift.” Her Christmas gift, not our gift, he noted. So where was the kid’s father?

  “If you want to wash before we make the treats, the bathroom’s just down the hall,” Maddie offered.

  “Thanks.” Jesse walked past her, noticing that aside from the caramels and marshmallows, there were no frivolous purchases. Fruit, vegetables, bread, frozen dinners, peanut butter and milk. The basics. No cookies, no chips, no junk food at all, except for the caramels and marshmallows. Poor Noah.

  She pressed the answering machine and listened to Noah’s teacher while she unpacked and stored her groceries.

  Jesse took his time scrubbing up. When he returned to the kitchen, Maddie was telling Noah to leave the dog outdoors. On the deck outside, Cocoa was busy chowing down. Every so often she gave a guttural woof, glanced around, then returned to eating.

  “Cocoa likes it better out there than inside the ark.”

  Jesse did a double take. Noah’s face looked blank, but a tiny smile twitched at the corner of his lips. He chuckled. The stiff-necked kid had actually made a joke.

  “So how do we make these treats?” With an apron wrapped around her narrow waist, Maddie stood primly poised behind the breakfast bar, hands folded, waiting for directions.

  Jesse got trapped admiring the way her chin-length black hair glistened like an ebony frame around her oval face with its huge green eyes. Her lashes, long and lush, helped accentuate the smooth angles and curves of her sculpted cheeks, complimented by a pert nose and full lips. Maddie wasn’t tall, yet when Noah was near she somehow seemed stronger, invincible.

  Jesse also glimpsed in Noah’s mother an innocence, a delicate fragility. For as long as he could remember he’d had this weird ability to see beneath the mask others presented. That proficiency now told him that Maddie had suffered, but somehow Jesse knew that though bent like a reed in the wind, she had not been broken by her suffering. Instead, the tentative way she smiled at him added to his hunch that hardship had left Maddie McGregor stronger, still genuine and sincere, uncorrupted.

  Exactly the opposite of his own world-weariness.

  “Is something wrong, Jesse?” Her considerate tone pulled him back from the cliff of his sad memories.

  Who was Maddie McGregor?

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you to do this tonight. You’ve been traveling.” She offered him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you’re tired. Maybe it would be better—”

  “I’m fine.” He noticed Noah sitting on the other side of the breakfast bar, watching them with those dark see-all eyes. “Gonna help, Ark Man? It’s for your class, isn’t it?”

  Silent, Noah slid off his stool and joined his mother.

  “First we need a heavy saucepan half full of water,” Jesse explained. “Once the water’s hot we can set another smaller pan inside it to melt the caramels.”

  Without a word, Maddie produced a pair of saucepans, half-filled the larger one with water and set it to heat on the expansive gas range.

  “Okay?” she asked, a nervous edge to her voice.

  “Great.” Jesse smiled to reassure her. “Let’s start unwrapping those caramels and putting them in this smaller pan.”

  “How many?” Noah deftly slid a candy out of its covering, but made no attempt to eat it.

  “How many kids in your class?” Jesse hid his surprise when Noah said eleven. “Small class.”

  “He attends a private school,” Maddie explained.

  “Okay, so eleven kids, multiplied by at least three treats for each. Let’s make fifty.” Jesse grinned at their surprise. “One of these is never enough, you’ll see. Plus they are small. Oh. I forgot to ask if you have toothpicks.” He noticed Maddie’s forehead crease in a frown. “Something we could use as skewers?” he prodded.

  “I don’t think so,” she murmured.

  “Does that mean we can’t make them?” Noah looked worried.

  “We can still make them, but it’s much easier if we have something we can poke through the marshmallow to dip into the melted caramels, and leave in so we can stand it up.” Jesse wasn’t sure why, but suddenly it seemed very important that he help this woman and her child make his gran’s treat. “I could run back into town—”

  “Dad got sticks for my science project. There were some left.” Noah’s eagerness made Jesse smile.

  “Honey, I have no idea where those might be.” Maddie’s cheeks grew pink. She did not look at her son. “When we moved here we had so much stuff and—”

  “And you wanted to get rid of Dad’s stuff,” Noah’s harsh voice accused. “Waste not, want not. That was his rule.”

  “Yes, it was.” Maddie’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  Jesse hated the way her lovely face closed up, like a daisy when the sun went behind a cloud. He had to do something.

  “Can you call your dad and ask him if he knows where they might be?” he suggested.

  The room went utterly still.

  “He’s dead.” Noah’s voice broke. He glared at his mother. “You hated his rules, but I don’t.” Then he raced from the room.

  Jesse had vowed not to get personally involved in a kid’s life again, not after the fiasco in Colorado. Why hadn’t he stayed out of his grandmother’s favorite grocery store tonight? Why hadn’t he avoided this woman and her troubled kid, simply swallowed his impulse to help?

  Most of all, what was he supposed to do now to stem the tears tumbling down Maddie’s white cheeks as she stared after Noah?

  Lord, You know how I’ve failed others. You know I’ve vowed not to get involved again, to never again risk failing a child.

  So, God, what am I doing here with this woman and her troubled son?

  Copyright © 2017 by Lois M. Richer

  ISBN-13: 9781488018251

  Her Secret Amish Child

  Copyright © 2017 by Cheryl Williford

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, M3B 3K9 Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com