Page 5 of A Hidden Hope

Evie turned in a circle to take in the full sight of Windmill Farm. It was the most peaceful setting she could imagine. Rolling hills dotted with sheep and horses, a red windmill turning in the breeze. Different from her grandparents’ farm, but much the same.

Being here brought Evie a sense of inner calm—something that had gone missing during the tense train ride.

Wren’s cold demeanor had seemed even frostier than usual, particularly when Charlie was full of questions about Anabaptist history—a topic Evie knew well, thanks to her grandfather’s endless stories.

It was hard to focus with Wren’s impatient sighs and constant glances at her smartphone.

Her thoughts kept drifting—Charlie’s defined cheekbones, his soulful brown eyes, those thick, lush lashes.

Could he have gotten even more attractive than the last time she saw him? Was that even possible?

“That sour smell! It’s awful. What is it?”

Evie turned to see Wren covering her nose. “Manure. Farmers spread it on the fields in the spring.”

But Wren wasn’t listening to her. Her attention, as always, was on Charlie. “Did you see that farmer we passed on the road? His beard was long enough to braid.”

Charlie stroked his chin. “I might have to grow a beard while I’m here.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Wren said, like she was in charge of Charlie’s appearance.

Maybe she was.

Behind Wren, Evie saw Dok talking to a small older woman standing on the farmhouse porch.

The woman pointed to an outbuilding that they’d passed as they drove up the driveway.

Dok had told them to wait for her by the car while she spoke to Fern.

Charlie had left the car to wander over to the pasture to pat a horse, and Evie wondered how he happened to be so comfortable around animals.

There was so much she didn’t know about him. Things she longed to know.

Wren strolled over to where Charlie stood by the pasture, with Evie trailing a few steps behind, her pace unhurried. As Wren reached the fence, she extended her hand confidently to pat the horse, only for the animal to jerk its head back and eye her warily before trotting off.

“What’s wrong with him?” Wren asked, frowning.

“Her. He’s a mare.” Charlie gave her a sideways glance. “You can’t just approach an animal like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re a predator sizing up your next meal.”

“I am not!”

“You approach everything like you’re a predator sizing it up.”

Evie let out a snort of laughter. Wren spun around, startled to find her standing there, completely unaware they’d had an audience.

Just then Dok bolted down the porch steps and ran toward the car, holding a device in the air. “Emergency. You’ll need to sort things out with Fern. Suitcases out of the back, please. ASAP.”

Charlie rushed to the car and started hefting suitcases out of the trunk. Evie and Wren quickly joined him.

“Dr. Stoltzfus,” Wren said, “I’ll come too. I’d like to accompany you on the emergency.”

Dok was already in the driver’s seat. “No. This is a home birth. Too stressful for an Amish mother to have strangers arrive without warning. Go get settled in with Fern. I’ll be in touch.” In record time, she made a three-point turn and headed down the driveway.

“What does she mean?” Wren said. “Get settled where?”

“Right here.”

All three spun around to face the small gray-haired Amish woman with bright, piercing eyes. “I’m Fern Lapp. You’ll be rooming here, at Windmill Farm.”

Wren’s perfectly arched eyebrows shot up. “Here?”

“Except for the boy.” Fern pointed in the opposite direction of the farmhouse. “He’ll be over at the buggy shop.”

Charlie burst out with a laugh as he realized that Fern was referring to him. “A boy in the buggy shop!” he said, delighted. “Sounds like a children’s book.”

Fern ignored that. “The buggy shop has living quarters in the back. Luke Schrock did the work on it. He and his wife Izzy live here and help me with the farm, but they’re away for a while.”

Charlie picked up his two beat-up suitcases. “I’ll be off, then. Ladies, I bid you farewell.” He gave them a bow and then headed off to the buggy shop.

Fern peered at Wren and Evie. “Follow me.”

Inside the modest, dimly lit farmhouse, Evie kept glancing at Wren, whose eyes grew increasingly wide as she took in their new living conditions. She was staring at the oil lamps hanging from the ceiling and the woodburning stove.

Fern pointed to the stairwell. “First room on the right is yours.”

The pale green room had two twin beds with a braided rug covering most of the linoleum floor. A row of wooden pegs hung on the wall, and a flashlight stood upright on the nightstand between the beds. Also on the nightstand was a small oil lamp.

Wren set down her suitcase and looked around the room, a shocked look on her face. “Don’t tell me that she expects us to share a room.”

“Um, looks that way.”

Wren’s perfect nose wrinkled, like she was sniffing something unpleasant.

Was sharing a room with Evie really so awful?

The sting of being openly disliked left an uncomfortable knot in her chest. The truth was, she wanted Wren to like her—despite the complicated mess of emotions tied to Charlie.

As easy and natural as it would be to feel jealous of Wren, she just refused to feed that green-eyed monster.

The weird thing was that Evie actually admired Wren. She had this way about her—so sure of herself, so confident in every step she took. It was like she had her life all mapped out, and all she needed to do was follow the trail.

Evie, on the other hand, could barely see beyond the next bend in the road. She was always caught up in the here and now, unsure of what lay ahead, and somehow, that made her feel like she was always just trying to catch up. Or keep up.

She hadn’t expected to be living in such close proximity to Wren either, but now that it was happening, she couldn’t help but wish some of Wren’s self-confidence would rub off on her—just a little, like a sprinkling of pixie dust.

Enough, at least, to catch Charlie’s eye.

She couldn’t deny the flutter of hope that she and Charlie might spend a lot of quality time together in Stoney Ridge.

Quality time alone. But even as the thought crossed her mind, it felt like an impossible dream.

Wren had a way of filling up the space, and Evie had a way of shrinking back into the shadows.

Wren pulled her cell phone charger out of her purse and looked around the room for an outlet. “Wait, there’s no electricity?” Her voice was tinged with disbelief.

Evie suppressed a smile. “Nope.” No air-conditioning either. Not such a big problem now, but she could guarantee it would be in July and August. Best not to bring that up right now.

Wren shot Evie a panicked look. “How am I supposed to charge my phone? And what about Wi-Fi?”

“There’s no Wi-Fi either, Wren.”

“But Dr. Stoltzfus received a phone call.”

“Pager.” Evie couldn’t help but find Wren’s panic a bit amusing.

“Welcome to Amish country. You’ll get used to it.

” She would’ve thought Wren knew what she was walking into, but what did she really know about Wren?

The train trip today was the most time she’d ever spent with her outside the hospital, and when she wasn’t sending disdainful looks at Evie, she had kept her nose in a medical textbook. Preparing for boards, she said.

From their window, Evie could see Charlie out in front of the buggy shop. Here he’d been banished to an outbuilding, and he looked like he was a kid in a candy store. He was wandering around an assortment of buggies and wagons, in different levels of repair.

Something else to add to her ever-growing list of what she loved about Charlie: The guy could find a silver lining in just about anything.

Cheerful Charlie. Evie loved uncovering new layers of him, like peeling an onion—only without the tears.

While Wren studied on the train, Charlie told Evie a few stories from med school.

Apparently, the first two times he visited the hospital morgue, he fainted when meeting his cadaver.

Evie heard Wren mutter something, so she turned around to see her fumbling with an oil lamp.

“How do you even light this thing?” she said with a grumble.

Evie walked over. “Here, let me show you. It’s not as hard as it looks.” She struck a match and lit the lamp with practiced ease.

Wren’s forehead furrowed. “How do you know how to do that?”

“My grandparents were Mennonites. Not quite like the Old Order Amish around here, but close. I spent my...” She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to share of her upbringing with Wren.

Too messy for someone like her to understand.

“I spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ farm.

” She set the lamp on the nightstand. “You’ll get the hang of it in no time. ”

Wren arched one dark eyebrow. “Easy for you to say. I need my phone and Wi-Fi to function.”

“You’ll adjust,” Evie said, unzipping her suitcase. “It’s actually kind of nice to unplug for a while.”

Wren plopped down on one of the beds, looking defeated. “I don’t think I can do this. No Wi-Fi, no electricity ... It’s weird. It’s old-fashioned. It’s like living in the dark ages.”

“On the bright side, Fern has indoor plumbing.”

That got Wren’s attention. She bolted straight up and leaned forward, squinting at Evie. “You mean ... not all Amish ... have...?”

Evie started to laugh, then realized Wren was serious.

“Some do, some don’t. It depends on how progressive or how conservative they are.

” She sat on the bed across from her. “The Amish aren’t one-size-fits-all.

Each church is self-standing, so even though they share a lot in common, there’s quite a bit of variation from one Amish community to the next. ”

Wren let out a groan-laugh. “I had no idea that indoor plumbing was optional.” She looked almost ... distressed.

This was a side of Wren she’d never seen.

“I’m sure there will be Wi-Fi at Dok Stoltzfus’s office.

And as for living here, I think you’ll be surprised to see how many ways the Amish get things done.

It might be different than you’re used to, but it’s not like the dark ages.

” Evie shrugged. “And if you really can’t adjust, then you can always look for an apartment to rent in town. ”

“I signed an agreement to let the program reimburse the landlord instead of taking a stipend. I thought I’d save more money that way.”

This, too, was a side of Wren that Evie didn’t expect. She wouldn’t have thought money was a problem for her, but maybe that’s why she chose the loan forgiveness program in the first place.

Wren lifted her head. “What about transportation? How are we supposed to get around? I assumed a car would be provided. It certainly should be. We’re out in the boonies.”

“Lots of extra scooters over at the buggy shop. You’re welcome to them.” Fern stood at the door, arms crossed against her chest. How long had she been there? Evie hadn’t heard her come up the stairs.

“Is it always this hot?” Wren said.

“Just wait a month for the real heat to show up,” Fern said. “This is downright winter weather.” She disappeared down the stairs.

Wren stood and turned in a slow circle. “Where’s the closet?”

Evie pointed to two boards on the wall, each with a row of pegs. “There.”

Wren stared. “That’s not a closet. That’s a couple of sticks.”

“Like I said before, welcome to the world of the Amish,” Evie said. “You’ll get used to it.”

Wren shot her a look. “I wouldn’t bet on that.” She pulled out a blouse, hung it on one peg. Then a pair of pants. Another blouse.

Evie watched as Wren took over all the pegs without a second thought. Okay ... it’s fine , she told herself. Living out of a suitcase wasn’t the worst thing. A tiny compromise to keep the peace, and Evie was good at making those.