Gertie, a shepherd mix, would vanish at night and show up the next morning with a gift for me. Usually, it was a stick of firewood, cut and cured. I’d add it to our woodpile and thank her. Once, she brought me a pair of men’s underwear. We lived out in the country, and our nearest neighbor was a half mile away. I did not try to return the briefs. I sure wished she could tell me that story.
Sadie was a yellow Lab-and-pointer mix who owned our hearts for nine beautiful years. She had pussy-willow ears—long and softer than silk. I believe she understood everything we said. She had the amazing ability to do what we asked with happy, loving energy. I miss her greatly.
I believe our pets are angels sent from God to lighten the burdens of our lives and to show us truly unconditional love. As I am writing this, Sugar, my rat terrier mix, is watching me from the bed. She naps while I write but if I get up and put on my shoes, she becomes a bouncing ball of energy. She knows I’m going outside.
I hope you enjoyed meeting Clyde and Juliet as well as Helen and Mark. Charlotte will remain one of my favorite characters of all time. Thanks for letting me tell you another tale about the Bowman family. Paul’s story will be next. I’m searching for the perfect girl for him right now.
Blessings,
Patricia Davids
This book is dedicated with boundless love to my granddaughter Shantel Widick. You are a smart, beautiful young woman of many talents, a lover of animals, a keen-eyed photographer and the person I most enjoy laughing with on a late-night sleepover. Remember to put down the phone and experience life firsthand. Oh, and never drive the four-wheeler that fast in front of your great-grandfather again. Ever.
Love you always.
MeMa Pat
Contents
Mark Bowman lifted his straw hat off his face and sat up with a disgruntled sigh. Trying to sleep on a bus was hard enough, but the sound of muffled weeping coming from the seat behind him was making it impossible. He turned to look over his shoulder. The culprit was an Amish woman with her face buried in a large white handkerchief. She was alone. Should he say something or ignore her?
Normally he avoided meddling in the affairs of others, but he recalled his uncle’s advice to him before he’d left Bowmans Crossing four days ago. A business owner needed to be a good listener as well as a good salesman. Success wasn’t always about numbers, it was about making people feel you cared about them and their concerns. It was about building friendships. Isaac had asked Mark to make an effort to be more outgoing on this trip.
There was no one Mark respected more than his uncle. Isaac Bowman had achieved everything Mark was working toward. He had a successful furniture-making business and a large happy family. Isaac was well respected in his Amish church and in the community and with good reason. He was always willing to lend a helping hand.
Mark didn’t have to imagine what his uncle would do in this situation. He would ask if he could help. Taking a deep breath, Mark spoke softly to the woman. “Fräulein, are you all right?”
She glanced up and then turned her face to the window. “I’m fine.”
It was dark outside. There was nothing to see except the occasional lights from the farms they passed. She dabbed her eyes and sniffled. She was a lovely woman. Her pale blond hair was tucked neatly beneath a gauzy, heart-shaped white kapp. He didn’t recognize the style and wondered where she was from. “You don’t sound fine.”
“Maybe not yet, but I will be.”
The defiance in her tone took him by surprise and reminded him of his six-year-old sister when she didn’t get her way. Experience had taught him the best way to stop his sister’s tears was to distract her. “I don’t care much for bus rides. Makes me queasy in the stomach. How about you?”
“They don’t bother me.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To visit family.” The woman’s clipped reply said she wasn’t interested in talking about it. He should have let it go at that, but he didn’t.
“Then someone in your family must be ill. Or perhaps you are on your way to a funeral.”
She