Love and Buggy Rides: An Amish Harvest Novella
By Amy Clipston
4.5/5
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About this ebook
A romantic fall buggy ride is the perfect setting for love.
Janie Lantz is a cashier at Lancaster Souvenirs and Buggy Rides, where Jonathan Stoltfuz is a buggy driver. A frightening accident brings Janie and Jonathan together in a blossoming friendship, yet daunting obstacles stand between them and something deeper. Can love kindle into flames that burn away fear and regret—and lead them to a life together?
Amy Clipston
Amy Clipston is an award-winning bestselling author and has been writing for as long as she can remember. She's sold more than one million books, and her fiction writing "career" began in elementary school when she and a close friend wrote and shared silly stories. She has a degree in communications from Virginia Wesleyan University and is a member of the Authors Guild, American Christian Fiction Writers, and Romance Writers of America. Amy works full-time for the City of Charlotte, NC, and lives in North Carolina with her husband, two sons, mother, and four spoiled rotten cats. Visit her online at AmyClipston.com; Facebook: @AmyClipstonBooks; Twitter: @AmyClipston; Instagram: @amy_clipston; BookBub: @AmyClipston.
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Reviews for Love and Buggy Rides
3 ratings1 review
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Interesting & intriguing enjoy reading it! Kept my interest all the way through
Book preview
Love and Buggy Rides - Amy Clipston
GLOSSARY
ach—oh
aenti—aunt
appeditlich—delicious
bedauerlich—sad
boppli—baby
bruder—brother
bu / buwe—boy / boys
daadi—granddad
daadihaus—grandparents’ house
daed—dad
danki—thank you
dat—dad
dochder—daughter
Englisher—a non-Amish person
fraa—wife
freind / freinden—friend(s)
froh—happy
gern gschehne—you’re welcome
gude mariye—good morning
gut—good
gut nacht—good night
haus—house
Ich liebe dich—I love you
kaffi—coffee
kapp—prayer covering or cap
kichli / kichlin—cookie(s)
kind—child
kinner—children
liewe—love, a term of endearment
maed—young women, girls
maedel—young woman, girl
mamm—mom
mammi—grandma
mei—my
naerfich—nervous
onkel—uncle
schee—pretty
schweschder—sister
Was iss letz?—What’s wrong?
Wie geht’s—How do you do? or Good day!
wunderbaar—wonderful
ya—yes
FEATURED AMISH HEIRLOOM SERIES CHARACTERS
Timothy m. Sylvia Lantz
Samuel (m. Mandy)
Marie
Janie
Samuel m. Mandy Lantz
Becky
Martha Mattie
m. Leroy Fisher
Veronica
Rachel
Emily
Vera (deceased) m. Raymond Lantz (deceased)
Michael (Mike
) (mother—Esther—deceased)
John
Chapter One
Janie Lantz sank down onto a wooden picnic table bench at the far end of the parking lot, next to Old Philadelphia Pike. The fresh, cool September breeze held a hint of the autumn weather on its way to Lancaster County as she opened her lunch bag and unwrapped her turkey sandwich. Before taking a bite, she glanced back at the Lancaster Buggy Rides and Souvenirs shop. Rows of pumpkins lined up in front of the store and orange and brown wreaths hung on the door and windows.
So far her first day as a cashier at the shop had gone well. But though she enjoyed talking with the tourists, her aching feet made her thankful for the opportunity to sit down while she enjoyed her lunch.
The clip-clop of hooves drew her attention to the highway. She recognized the long gray buggy full of tourists as one of the buggies her boss owned. Throughout the day, the buggies took tourists on rides around the Bird-in-Hand area. She hadn’t met the three buggy drivers yet, but she’d seen the Amish men from a distance earlier in the day when they were standing by the stable next to the store.
Janie took a bite of her sandwich and watched the driver start to guide the buggy into the driveway leading to the parking lot.
Suddenly a silver sedan sped up behind the buggy. The car’s driver appeared to be looking down at something in his hand—just before he looked up and hit his brakes.
Then, almost as if in slow motion, the car slammed into the back side of the buggy, shattering the right rear wheel and causing the buggy to teeter. The buggy shifted awkwardly and then fell on the right rear corner, sending the driver and a few passengers on that side tumbling onto the ground. The car behind the buggy had come to a stop.
Janie gasped in horror as she jumped up from the bench, dropping her sandwich and knocking over her bottle of water. She rushed across the parking lot to the store’s main entrance, reaching the door just as two customers were coming out.
Excuse me!
Janie yelled. Do you have a cell phone?
One of the women nodded as she stared at Janie with confusion on her face.
Would you please call nine-one-one? There’s been an accident.
Janie pointed toward the driveway, and both women turned, taking in the scene.
The woman who had nodded pulled out her phone and started punching in the numbers.
Janie burst through the front door and spotted her boss, Craig Warner, talking to her coworker, Eva, near the cash register in the center of the large store.
Janie ran to them, beckoning for Craig to follow her. Craig! Craig! You need to come quickly! A car hit one of our buggies while it was turning into the driveway. It just happened. I’m sure people are hurt.
Eva, call nine-one-one,
Craig instructed as he started walking. Tell Bianca to find the first-aid kit and get the ice packs from the freezer.
Okay.
Eva’s brown eyes widened as she nodded and grabbed the store phone to make the call.
Craig hustled toward the door and Janie trailed behind him. I asked a customer to call nine-one-one too.
That was a good idea.
In his midforties, Craig was tall and fit. Janie was nearly jogging to keep up with his long strides. She knew his brown eyes, which matched his hair and goatee, had to be filled with worry for his driver and customers.
Once outside, Craig groaned as the accident came into view. Oh no. This is much worse than I hoped.
A shiver raced up Janie’s spine as she took in the scene playing out in the driveway and parking lot. A crowd had gathered around the broken buggy and car, which had a smashed front bumper and headlights. Sirens already blared in the distance, announcing the approach of first responders.
Craig rushed over to the buggy and joined someone helping an older woman sitting on the ground with a bloody gash on her forehead. A middle-aged man and woman sat on the ground as well, looking bewildered as the customer who had called nine-one-one for Janie knelt beside them. One young man was already helping some of the passengers to nearby benches. The horse looked spooked, but not injured, and two men were doing their best to soothe it.
The driver of the car still sat behind the wheel, looking stunned as a man leaned in, no doubt asking if he was all right. She guessed the driver was around nineteen.
At first glance, Janie thought most of the passengers’ injuries seemed to be minor, but no one could be sure until EMTs arrived. As Janie wrung her hands, wondering what else she could do to help until then, she turned and nearly walked right into a man who towered over her by several inches. She immediately recognized him as one of the buggy drivers she’d seen that morning.
He was helping the remaining two passengers climb out of the buggy, but Janie could see he was favoring his left arm. Blood seeped from a cut on his head as well, streaming down the side of his face, a stark contrast to his paled face and dark brown hair.
Take your time,
he told a woman as she climbed down to the ground. He grasped her arm with his right hand and grimaced as she leaned on him.
Once the woman was safely out, he swayed slightly, closing his eyes for a moment as if trying to regain his balance.
Janie came closer. Are you all right?
He gave her a brief sideways glance. "Ya, I’ll be fine."
Your head is really bleeding,
Janie warned. I think you need to sit down.
I’m okay,
he insisted before turning toward the last passenger. Give me your hand, and I’ll help you down.
When the woman hesitated, he offered her a shaky smile. He was clearly trying to ignore his injuries. He swayed again, and Janie held up her hand to grab him. But then she stopped, not wanting to appear forward.
I won’t let you fall,
he promised his passenger. We need to get you out of this buggy before the other back wheel collapses.
The woman took his hand, and again he grimaced as he helped her down. He let a young man who had been leading the passengers to the benches take over, then placed a shaky hand on the side of the buggy for support as the blood continued to trickle down his cheek and drip onto his gray shirt.
Please listen to me,
Janie pleaded, her voice thick with worry. You need medical attention. Look.
She pointed at the red spots dotting his shirt.
He glanced down at his chest and then met her gaze. His eyes were honey brown. I’ll be okay. I need to take care of my passengers.
I don’t think you should—
Before Janie could finish, the man took a step and then staggered. Janie grabbed his arm, steadying him. Lean on me, and I’ll get you to that picnic table over there,
she instructed, nodding toward the table where she’d been eating lunch. I’m Janie Lantz. This is my first day working here.
Jonathan Stoltzfus.
The man followed her instructions, and she slowly led him to the picnic table. He sank down onto the bench and slouched back against the table.
Danki,
he muttered, squeezing the bridge of his nose. I don’t know what happened.
You need medical attention,
she repeated, taking a clean handkerchief from her apron pocket. Now, sit here before you fall and hurt yourself worse, and press this against that cut to stop the bleeding.
Before Jonathan could take the handkerchief, Craig rushed over.