Endorsements

  “Patricia Johns’s Still Waters is a tender journey that explores friendship, second chances, and finding unexpected love. It reminds us God’s grace and mercy are ever present, especially when we’re uncertain of His plan for us. This story will delight readers who love the Amish culture and an endearing romance.”

  Amy Clipston, bestselling author of The Heart’s Shelter

  “Patricia Johns beautifully captures the struggles of three sisters trying to fit their dreams into the expectations of Amish life. You’ll find yourself rooting for each of them as they navigate love, faith, work, and the push and pull of tradition.”

  Susanne Woods Fisher on Green Pastures

  “Amanda Schrock had my heart from the minute she paid a call on the most ineligible bachelor in town. The multiple storylines were fresh, well-written, and simply adorable. Green Pastures is yet another example of why Patricia Johns is a true fan favorite.”

  Shelley Shepard Gray on Green Pastures

  “Green Pastures explores the ties that bind a community as three sisters navigate their way through romance, heartbreak, and marriage. Patricia Johns tackles tough topics, resulting in a poignant story of hope, faith, and love that shines a bright light on the Amish—and human—experience.”

  Leslie Gould on Green Pastures

  “Green Pastures by novelist Patricia Johns is a skillfully crafted and original story that is as inherently fascinating as it is emotionally engaging for the reader.”

  Midwest Book Review on Green Pastures

  Half Title Page

  STILL

  WATERS

  Books by Patricia Johns

  The Amish of Shepherd’s Hill

  Green Pastures

  Still Waters

  Title Page

  STILL

  WATERS

  The Amish of

  Shepherd’s Hill 2

  PATRICIA JOHNS

  5

  Copyright Page

  © 2025 by Patricia Johns

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  Minneapolis, Minnesota

  BethanyHouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  Ebook edition created 2025

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  Identifiers: ISBN 9780764244186 paperback | ISBN 9780764245633 casebound | ISBN 9781493451241 ebook

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover design by James Hall

  Cover image of Amish woman by Laura Klynstra / BPG

  The Author is represented by the literary agency of Liza Dawson Associates, LLC.

  Baker Publishing Group publications use paper produced from sustainable forestry practices and postconsumer waste whenever possible.

  Contents

  Endorsements

  Half Title Page

  Books by Patricia Johns

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  Epilogue

  Discussion Questions

  Author’s Note

  Read on for a sneak peek of the next book in "The Amish of Shepherd’s Hill series"

  About the Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  1

  Friesen Lake was still and deep, nestled with the quietness of a prayer in the middle of treed hill country. It shimmered on the far edge of Shepherd’s Hill, a Pennsylvanian Amish church district. Chilly water lapped the rocky shore, and the pebbled lake bottom sank in quick decline down into the water, disappearing into crystal depths. With its deepest point at ninety feet, where an underground spring fed the lake, even the summer heat never completely warmed the water. But that vast, sparkling expanse was tempting all the same, and Beth Peachy longed to swim.

  In her many visits to see her grandmother in Shepherd’s Hill, Beth had never been permitted to swim in this lake. Not when the weather was sweltering hot in the middle of August. Not when the Englischers in the cabins farther down the lakeshore were paddling around by the dock, their laughter surfing the breeze. Mammi had forbidden swimming in this lake. Beth’s daet had supported the rule, though no one in her family explained the reasons behind it.

  But that was what her family did—they kept secrets. Daet had never spoken about his childhood here, and there was no explanation for that either. Beth had been plying her mother with questions since Daet’s death, though her mother knew very little. But why? That question had plagued Beth since her father’s passing last year. Why all the silence and secrecy surrounding their family history?

  Farther along the lakeshore, there was another Amish home nestled in next to the old ice house. Decades ago, that ice house used to provide ice for local Amish iceboxes. They would harvest the ice in the winter and keep it in the insulated ice house all summer. But those days were past, and their community now used propane-powered refrigerators and freezers for their families’ needs. The Lapp family owned those cabins beside the lake, where Englischers liked to stay, and they had recently renovated the old ice house into an attractive little cottage too. Beth could make out both the Lapps’ two-story house and the newly painted cottage from here.

  She shaded her eyes. Did Danny Lapp still live there with his parents? He had been her friend long ago, but she hadn’t been to Shepherd’s Hill in about three years—Mammi had come to visit her family in Strasburg instead—and a lot could change in that amount of time.

  Goldie barked hoarsely from the yard behind her. She was a twelve-year-old golden Lab. Her face was white, and her torso was thick. She plodded around the property with the gait of a regal old woman.

  “Beth?”

  Beth turned back to wave at her grandmother, who bustled out the back door of her house. Mammi was as portly as Goldie and often said that at their ages, neither of them could be expected to have waistlines anymore. Mammi had a round face and eyes that squinted so they almost disappeared when she smiled. But she wasn’t smiling now.

  “Beth!” Mammi puttered over the grassy lawn, beckoning. “Come away from the water, Elizabeth. Come away. Come, come.”

  Mammi flapped her hands at Beth as if she were one of the chickens. She grinned but cooperated all the same. She’d arrived this morning to help with housework and chores while they prepared Mammi’s house for sale later that summer. Now in her late seventies, Mammi was starting to struggle with more than just the physical work. She’d been getting more forgetful lately and having bouts of confusion. Beth’s mother wanted Mammi to move in with them, and when they started looking for a young person to help Mammi get the big house ready to sell, Beth had volunteered for the task. It would provide Beth with some space and time to make her own decisions too.

  “Mammi, I’m twenty-one,” Beth said, crossing the rocky shore and heading back up to the grass. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  Mammi had always had strict rules regarding the water at her own house, but she wouldn’t try to enforce those when she moved in with Beth’s family, would she?

  “The lake doesn’t care how old you are,” Mammi responded. “Come sit on a chair on the lawn. You can see the water from there. It’s a very nice view.”

  As Beth’s feet touched the grass, a smile returned to her grandmother’s weathered face, and the old woman turned around and bustled past a pair of white Adirondack chairs that sat in the shade of two cherry trees. Mammi had a large garden, too, and her rows of vegetables were already flourishing even though it was only the beginning of June.

  “I’m a strong swimmer, you know,” Beth said. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  She’d brought her homemade bathing dress with her. It had a high neckline, short sleeves, and shorts underneath the knee-length skirt, so she was modestly covered. Her bishop back home in Strasburg had permitted her to wear it as long as boys and girls weren’t swimming together. Besides, no one from the Lapps’ section of the beach would see what she was wearing once she was in the water.

  “It’s not safe,” Mammi said.

  “That’s all you’ve ever said about it. But my daet taught me to swim.”

  Mammi silently met her gaze for a moment. “There are people who have drowned in that lake and were never found.” Mammi pursed her lips. “That lake holds more secrets than you can imagine. While you are here, Beth, you need to listen to me, or I will send you straight home. If you really are so grown up, then you’ll understand that life is fragile, and it’s prideful to take unnecessary risks. You are not less mortal than anyone else.”

  Beth looked at her grandmother in surprise. That was the most her grandmother had said about the lake in Beth’s hearing. Ever.

  “You’d send me home?”

  “If I have to.” Mammi crossed her arms over her chest.

  Beth cast the glistening lake one last look of longing, then put an accommodating smile on her face. She was here to help Mammi, not upset her.

  “All right, Mammi. I won’t swim.”

  “Danke.”

  She followed her grandmother in through the side door of the big three-story house. Goldie plodded after them, her back legs looking stiff. The dog stopped a couple of yards from the door, and when Beth bent down to give her a pet, Goldie yipped and shied away.

  “Careful with her back end,” Mammi said. “The poor girl is awfully sore these days.”

  “I’m sorry, Goldie,” Beth whispered. She held out a hand to the dog, but Goldie wouldn’t come close again. Beth straightened. She’d have to regain Goldie’s affections. On her last visit three years ago, they’d had a lot of fun together. Now, the dog padded stiffly over to Mammi’s side.

  This house was big enough to accommodate a large family, but in recent years, it had only housed Mammi and Beth’s daet, Mose, when he was a boy. Which bedroom had belonged to Beth’s father? She didn’t even know that. Had he slept on the second floor or the third? What had they done in this big rambling house, just the two of them? No one had ever shared any stories.

  The side door led into a spacious kitchen. The windows were propped open today to let in the cool air coming from across the water. The wooden floors were polished to a glow with linseed oil, and the cupboards were freshly painted a bright white. The counters were a little cluttered, but Beth could help with that. Goldie stopped at her water bowl and took a slow drink.

  A plate of glazed donuts waited on the counter, but Mammi went to a cupboard and pulled it open. Beth looked over her grandmother’s shoulder. There were mugs and plates with a single black walking shoe sitting on top of them.

  “Mammi, why is that shoe in the cupboard?” Beth asked.

  Her grandmother blinked at the shoe in confusion. “I don’t know.”

  “Here, I’ll take care of it.” Beth pulled out the shoe and tucked it under her arm, then pulled out the dishes too. “I’ll wash these for you.”

  “You should eat something first,” Mammi said, her cheeks growing pink with embarrassment, and she gestured toward the plate of donuts.

  “Of course, Mammi. I’d love one.” Beth put the dishes in the sink, then brought the shoe over to the rack by the door. She didn’t see its mate, but she put it into a free space all the same. Then she went back to the sink and washed her hands.

  “These are very good donuts,” Mammi said. “Aent Mary made them. She wanted you to have something special when you arrived.”

  Aent Mary was actually Mammi’s niece and Beth’s father’s first cousin, but in a large family like theirs, sometimes people who were more distantly related were lovingly given closer titles, and so they’d dubbed her Aent. The donuts did look delicious. Beth picked up a plump pastry and took a bite. She chewed slowly and nodded her appreciation.

  “Good?” Mammi asked with a hopeful smile.

  Beth nodded again. “Delicious.”

  “Aent Mary will come by soon to say hello,” Mammi said. “She was so happy you were coming.”

  “That will be nice,” Beth replied. Aent Mary was more open and talkative than most of Beth’s family on her father’s side. She was always fun to visit with, and she was full of news from all corners of the family, which was why Beth liked her so much.

  “I’m so glad you came too,” Mammi said. “I’ve missed you, Elizabeth.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Mammi. It was so nice when you came to see us, but I missed this house and Goldie and your good cooking.”

  Mammi smiled in response.

  “I was hoping you’d tell me stories about my daet while I’m here,” Beth added. “When Daet passed away, I realized I don’t know much about when he was little. I should have pestered him more to tell me stories.”

  Daet had died six months ago, and too late Beth had realized just how little she knew about her father’s childhood and upbringing. It was also time for Beth to make a choice for the church and get baptized, but she’d been holding back. She had a few hopes and dreams of her own that couldn’t be fulfilled in the Amish world. Maybe if Daet had lived, he could have passed along some wisdom to help her make her decision. No one understood her quite so well as Daet had.

  “You miss your father,” Mammi said softly.

  “I do. And I wish I knew more about him.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What was my daet like as a kind?” Beth asked. That was an easy enough question to answer, wasn’t it?

  “He was a sweet boy,” Mammi said, tears misting her eyes. “He was kind to everyone. To animals, to friends, to me . . . He was a very gentle child.”

  “What about when he was a baby?” Beth asked.

  Mammi didn’t answer. Was that her confusion or the old refusal to speak of the past? Beth wasn’t sure.

  “What was his first word?” she pressed.

  The old woman pushed herself to her feet and went over to the fridge. “I’ll get you some milk to go with your donuts.”

  Evasion. It seemed like everyone except Aent Mary was so used to keeping secrets that they forgot how to talk about ordinary things.

  “Daet was like this too, you know,” Beth said. “I don’t understand it. Why does no one talk about the past?”

  “There’s nothing to tell about your father as a baby,” Mammi said, returning with a pitcher of milk. “Every mother thinks her baby is wonderful. The stories don’t get interesting until the kinner are older.”

  That answer felt like more evasion to Beth, but she’d given this some serious thought over the years, and she had a theory. Mammi seemed to have raised her son alone. There wasn’t a dawdie in the picture—at least none that had ever been mentioned. Had Mammi ever had a husband? Had he died? Had he abandoned her? Beth didn’t know because no one spoke about that, and when Beth asked questions, she was hushed. Apparently, Mammi didn’t have a husband that anyone had ever met, and Daet had never mentioned his father. But Mammi did have a son. If Mammi had had her son out of wedlock, that would have been a deep disappointment to her conservative Amish family. Had Mammi been a single mother? Was that the big secret?

  “I want to hear about you,” Mammi said. “Tell me how you’ve been doing, Elizabeth.”

  “I’ve been working at the flour mill, and I’ve been learning some new quilting blocks. I’m making a Star of Bethlehem quilt to sell at the next mud sale.”

  “Very nice,” Mammi said. “Are you making it alone?”

  “My mamm is helping me get everything pinned, and my sister-in-law is doing some edging for me. But the hard work—that’s mine.”

  “It’s important to know how to quilt.” Mammi fixed her with a fond look. “One day, you’ll be making quilts for your own home with your husband and kinner.”

  “One day.” Although if she married an Englischer, her homemaking duties would be a whole lot lighter.

  “Is there a young man who’s caught your eye?” Mammi asked coyly. “Your secret would be safe with me.”

  “There was a boy I liked a lot,” Beth said. “His name is Luke. I thought he liked me, too, but he ended up courting my friend Mary-Anne and marrying her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  They both fell into silence, and Beth took another bite of the donut. Luke marrying Mary-Anne had been heartbreaking. Daet had told her that Gott must have someone else in mind for her, and that disappointments opened doors to new opportunities. Daet’s insight had helped. She’d spent that summer swimming at their own local lake, getting stronger and faster, and praying.

  “Did you ever get disappointed like that?” Beth asked.

  “Me?” Mammi blinked a couple of times and then looked away. “Oh . . . that was a long time ago. I hardly remember.”

 

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