Plain Proposal (39 page)

B
ETH
: As authors, we know that there is no “typical” day, but how do you prefer to outline your day, given a choice? Do you prefer to write in the mornings or in the evenings? How many words do you push for?

G
OLDEN
: My brain works better in the mornings as far as writing content goes. Then I work on editing and marketing in the afternoons. A historical runs 90,000 to 100,000, words, so I try to do a chapter a week. My chapters usually run around 3,000 words. Sometimes I make it and sometimes I don’t, but if I keep that schedule, I’m pretty much on track. When I get closer to deadline, sometimes I’m writing 2,000 or more words a day.

B
ETH
: If you weren’t writing in this time period, what other type of novel would you be interested in writing?

G
OLDEN
: I love all historical. I used to think I would only want to do European historicals, but since writing in the colonial period in America and now the Civil War book, I’m kind of changing my mind. I’ve enjoyed them all. I’ve written some biblical fiction. I’d like to do a time travel novel.

B
ETH
: What is the most important concept that you hope readers walk away with after reading one of your books?

G
OLDEN
: That God is faithful and will always make a way for us, if we trust Him.

B
ETH
: I’m looking forward to reading the rest of the books in this series. Where can readers find out more about you?

G
OLDEN
: At my website:
www.goldenkeyesparsons.com
. Thanks, Beth. I enjoyed the interview.

The Daughters
of the Promise novels

E
NJOY THESE
A
MISH
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OVELLAS FOR
E
VERY
S
EASON

Visit
AmishLiving.com

What would cause
the Amish to move to Colorado,
leaving family and friends behind?

The New Land of Canaan Series

An Excerpt from
Seek Me With All Your Heart

E
MILY STOOD BEHIND THE COUNTER OF HER FAMILY’S
country store, watching as the tall man walked down each aisle, the top of his black felt hat visible above the gray metal shelving. First thing that morning, he’d strolled in and shot her a slow, easy smile, white teeth dazzling against bronzed skin. He moved slowly, sometimes glimpsing in her direction.

Emily twisted the strings on her apron with both hands and tried to slow down her breathing. Her heart pulsed against her chest as she glanced out the window toward her family’s farmhouse in the distance.
Where is Jacob?
Her brother knew she didn’t like to be left alone in the store, and he’d promised to be right back.

Their community was small, and all the members in the district knew each other, which was the only reason Emily agreed to work in the shop. But this Amish man was a stranger. And Amish or not, he was still a man.

Emily jumped when the man rounded the bread aisle toting a box of noodles in one hand and a can in the other. With the back of one hand, he tipped back his hat so that sapphire blue eyes blazed down on her. As he approached the counter, Emily clung to her apron strings and took a step backward.

“How come everything in this store is messed up?” Tiny lines creased his forehead as he held up a can of green beans with a large dent in one side. Then he held up the box of noodles. “And this looks like it’s been stepped on. It’s mashed on one side.” He dropped them on the counter, then folded his arms across his chest and waited for her to answer.

He towered over her. Emily stared straight ahead, not looking him in the eye. The outline of his shoulders strained against a black jacket that was too small. Her bottom lip trembled as she turned her head to look out the window again. When she didn’t see any sign of Jacob, she turned back to face the stranger, who looked to be about her age—maybe nineteen or twenty—which didn’t make him any less threatening. His handsome looks could be a convenient cover up for what lay beneath. She knew he was not a married man since he didn’t have a beard covering his square jaw, and his dark hair was in need of a trim.

He arched his brows, waiting for her to respond, looking anything but amused. Emily felt goose bumps on her arms, and chills began to run the length of her spine, even though Jacob had fired up the propane heaters long before the shop opened that morning.

“This is—is a salvage store.” Her fingers ached as she twisted the strings of her apron tighter. “We sell freight and warehouse damaged groceries.” She bit her lip, but didn’t take her eyes from him.

“I can’t even find half the things on my list.” He shook his head as he stared at a white piece of paper. “What about milk and cheese?”

“No, I’m sorry. We mostly have dry goods.”

He threw his hands in the air. Emily thought his behavior was improper for an Amish man, but raw fear kept her mouth closed and her feet rooted to the floor.

“Where am I supposed to get all this?” He turned the piece of paper around so she could see the list.

Emily unwrapped the strings of her apron and slowly leaned her head forward. She tucked a loose strand of brown hair underneath her
kapp
.

“What’d you do to your hand?”

Emily glanced at her hand, and a blush filled her cheeks when she saw the red indentions around her fingers. She quickly dropped her hand to her side and ignored his comment. “You will have to go to Monte Vista for most of those things. People usually come here to save money, just to get a few things they know we’ll have for a lesser price.”

“That’s a far drive by buggy in this snow.” He put both hands on the counter and hung his head for a few moments, then looked up as his mouth pulled into a sour grin. With an unsettling calmness, he leaned forward and said, “Just one more thing I can’t stand about this place.”

Emily took two steps backward, which caused her to bump into the wall behind her. “Then leave,” she whispered as she cast her eyes down on her black shoes. She couldn’t believe she’d voiced the thought, and when she looked back up at him, the stranger’s eyes were glassed with anger.

“Please don’t hurt me.” She clenched her eyes closed.

D
AVID COULDN’T BELIEVE
what he’d heard. “
What?
Hurt you? What are you talkin’ about?” He’d never hurt anyone in his life. He walked around the counter and reached his hand out to her, but she cowered against the wall.

“I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, don’t cry.” He touched her arm, and she flinched as a tear rolled down her cheek. He pulled back and said softly, “Please. Don’t cry. Look . . .” He showed her his palms, then backed up and got on the other side of the counter. “I’m leaving. Don’t cry.”

He rubbed his forehead for a moment and watched her trying to catch her breath to stop the tears from flowing. She swiped at her eyes and sniffled, then looked up at him. He noticed a scar above her left brow. A deep indentation that ran nearly to her hairline.

The bell on the front door chimed, and David looked away from the woman and toward the sound. An Amish fellow around his own age stepped inside. He glanced at David, then took one look at the woman against the wall and hastily rushed over to her. He brushed past David, almost pushing him, and touched the woman on the arm.

“Are you all right?”

“I didn’t do anything, I promise.” David watched the young man wrap his arm around her and whisper something in her ear. “I mean, I guess I acted like a jerk, but I never meant to . . .”

The fellow waved a hand at him and shook his head before turning his attention back to her. “Go on back to the
haus
.”

David’s eyes followed the young woman as she scurried out the door, her chin tucked. Through the window, he saw her trudge through the snow toward a white house on the other side of a picket fence, her brown dress slapping at her shins as she hugged herself tightly. David pointed to a black wrap hanging a rack by the door. “She forgot her cape,” he said and looked out of the window again. He wondered what exactly had just happened.

“I’m Jacob.” The man walked closer and extended his hand to David, who forced a smile.

“I’m David, and I’m real sorry. I came in here in a bad mood, and I guess I must have scared her or something.” He dropped his hand and shook his head. “But I sure didn’t mean to. Really. I’m just real sorry.”

Jacob peeled off a snow-speckled black coat, walked to the rack, and hung it beside the forgotten cape. He turned to face David. “It’s not you. My sister just gets like that sometimes. I try not to leave her alone, but I heard one of the horses in the barn kicking at the stall, and I was gone longer than I should have been.”

“Is she . . .” David wasn’t sure how to ask. “
Ab im kopp
?”

Jacob chuckled. “
Nee
, she ain’t off in the head.” His expression grew serious. “She’s just . . . I reckon she’s just going through a
hatt
time right now.”

The bell on the door chimed again, and David saw a small girl enter. She was bundled in a black bonnet and cape and was breathing hard. “Are you the one who made Emily cry?” She thrust her hands on her hips and drew her mouth into a frown. David opened his mouth to answer, but Jacob cut in.