Free Fearless Hope: A Novel by Serena B. Miller Page A

he read copiously and each day he spent sitting at this table spinning a story unlike any he had ever written. For several hours a day, he looked at the world through the eyes of a frightened, twenty-two-year-old war correspondent who was falling in love with a courageous young girl pilot.
    Sometimes people stopped to chat. More often they respectfully didn’t.
    His deadline for the next sociopathic thriller for his New York publisher loomed, but he put it aside as he indulged himself in the story that had grabbed him by the throat and would not let him go. He had stopped coming in at one o’clock. Instead, he came in as early as the store opened in the morning and stayed until it closed.
    Violet was as good as her word. She proofread, made insightful comments in the margins of his manuscript, provided him with pots of tea, and helped him with historical accuracy. In return, he frequently treated her to dinner at one of the local restaurants.
    The Amish woman lifted the youngest child, a little boy, onto her hip. “I’m looking for work cleaning houses.”
    Logan’s ears perked up. A housecleaner? Ever since he’d started writing on a consistent basis again, his house was falling apart. Clothing, dishes, papers, books were stacked and toppling over.
    “And I also cook.”
    She cooked? “Oh, honey,” Violet said. “How can you clean houses and cook for other people with those two children?”
    “They are very good children,” the Amish woman said.
    Logan lost interest. A woman who planned to drag two children along with her couldn’t possibly do a decent job. If he hired her, the children would probably tear the place apart.
    On the other hand, the older child, even without her motherholding her hand, was standing perfectly still, looking up at Violet, being as good as gold. The little boy astraddle his mother’s hip, with his little suspendered pants and minuscule Amish hat, was adorable.
    Although the woman and her children had their backs to him, there was something familiar about them.
    Violet looked at the little card she still held in her hand. “Why are you looking for work, dear?” she asked kindly. “Has your husband lost his job?”
    “My husband is gone,” Hope said. “He was killed by a bull.”
    “Oh!” Violet glanced up from the card. “You must be Henry and Rose Miller’s eldest daughter. I heard about your loss. Such a tragedy! Doesn’t the church have alms to help you?”
    “ Ja , but I want to do my part. I’m a hard worker and my small house does not take much time to clean. I have several hours to spare each day.”
    She turned slightly, and he realized that this was the pretty Amish woman with the sad face he’d seen walking to church with her children.
    He’d guessed right. She was a widow. His heart went out to her. Having someone to sweep, wash dishes, and tidy up really would be helpful. The children seemed quiet and obedient.
    “I could use some help,” he said.
    She turned to see who had spoken.
    “You?” she said. “You would hire me to work for you?”
    “Yes,” he said. “Would that be a problem?”
    There was a long hesitation while she considered. “How many hours?”
    “How much time would you like?” he said. “My house is a mess. You said you can cook, and I’m getting tired of eating every meal in restaurants. If you want to come over a few hours each week, I’d be obliged.”
    She turned a questioning gaze to Violet as though she was not at all sure what to think about this offer.
    “He’s quite nice,” Violet reassured her. “And he spends most of the day in here working on his book anyway.”
    “Your wife does not clean or cook?”
    It was interesting that she immediately assumed he had a wife. He supposed that was because most Amish men his age would be married, but he had no desire to discuss his relationship with Marla. The situation was a little complicated to explain to an Amish person, especially since it did not fit into their moral