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    The Cedar Chest: An Amish Heirloom Novella
    The Cedar Chest: An Amish Heirloom Novella
    The Cedar Chest: An Amish Heirloom Novella
    Ebook101 pages1 hour

    The Cedar Chest: An Amish Heirloom Novella

    By Beth Wiseman

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    About this ebook

    Decades after inheriting her great grandmother’s cedar chest, Emma Fisher decides to pry it open only to discover a beautiful love story in the form of letters between her great grandparents. But as Emma immerses herself in their story, family secrets are revealed, and she must decide whether to share them to preserve family history or honor her great grandparents’ decision to leave them hidden.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherZondervan
    Release dateApr 10, 2018
    ISBN9780310352020
    The Cedar Chest: An Amish Heirloom Novella
    Author

    Beth Wiseman

    Bestselling and award-winning author Beth Wiseman has sold over two million books. She is the recipient of the coveted Holt Medallion, is a two-time Carol Award winner, and has won the Inspirational Reader's Choice Award three times. Her books have been on various bestseller lists, including CBA, ECPA, Christianbook, and Publishers Weekly. Beth and her husband are empty nesters enjoying country life in south-central Texas. Visit her online at BethWiseman.com; Facebook: @AuthorBethWiseman; Twitter: @BethWiseman; Instagram: @bethwisemanauthor

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      Book preview

      The Cedar Chest - Beth Wiseman

      CHAPTER 1

      Emma stared out the window and waited for Catherine to pull into the driveway. Something was wrong with her daughter, but Emma hadn’t been able to get Catherine to talk about what was troubling her.

      As Emma raised the green blinds higher, rays of sunshine soared through the glass pane and lit the way for tiny dust particles to float aimlessly across the room. No matter how much she cleaned, the old farmhouse collected and held on to dust like sand on wet feet.

      Emma moved toward the front door when she saw Catherine’s buggy approaching, and she silently prayed her daughter would open up to her today. They’d always been close, so Catherine’s unwillingness to confide in her caused Emma’s chest to tighten every time she considered things that might be wrong. A health issue? Was Abram’s job coming to an end? Her son-in-law had been worried about his job at a local construction company and whether his position was stable. Or was Catherine’s depressed state of mind because she and Abram hadn’t yet conceived a child?

      As Catherine tethered her horse, Emma stepped onto the porch and breathed in the flowery aroma of spring, then eyed the dewy mist glistening like fallen stars atop dark-green blades of grass.

      Wie bischt, Mamm. Catherine kissed her mother on the cheek before she followed Emma into the house. You’ve been baking. Her daughter sniffed the air. Smells like peanut butter cookies.

      Emma smiled as she pointed to a plastic container on the coffee table. Those are for you and Abram. I know they’re his favorite.

      Danki. Catherine lifted the lid on the container and took out a cookie.

      "Ach, Abram’s slacks are in the bedroom. Be right back." Emma retreated to her room and picked up two pairs of pants she’d offered to mend for Catherine the last time she was at her daughter’s house.

      "Mamm, you really didn’t have to do that," Catherine said with a mouthful of cookie when Emma returned.

      "I know I didn’t have to." She set the clothes next to the cookies. Catherine was a wonderful cook and she kept a fine house, but Emma’s daughter despised any type of sewing, even simple mending projects.

      I need things to busy myself anyway. Now that Lloyd is off and married, I’m constantly looking for things to do. The last of her kinner had gotten married in November. Emma and Jonathan had planned to travel, to visit relatives in Ohio and Indiana, but somehow they’d settled into a quiet life with little mention of those plans.

      What about the books for the auction? Did you find them? Catherine’s cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk’s.

      Emma put her hands on her hips and grinned. I hope you don’t always talk with a mouthful of food like that.

      Catherine stuffed the rest of the cookie in her mouth and attempted to say, Of course not.

      Emma sighed and shook her head. The books are in the basement. It’s a heavy box, so it will probably take both of us to get it up the stairs. I didn’t want to ask your father to help because of his back problems. She started toward the door that led to the basement, her heart a bit lighter today. Catherine was in better spirits this morning.

      I don’t even remember the last time I’ve been down here. Since I moved the preserves to the kitchen cupboard, I don’t have much need to be in the basement. Emma turned the doorknob, then felt around for the flashlight hanging on the wall to her right. She flicked it on and started down the stairs, Catherine on her heels.

      Steadying herself with each step, Emma made a mental note to remind Jonathan to construct a handrail. She didn’t think of herself as old, but in two years she’d be fifty, and she’d already had one frightening fall on the steep stairs.

      At the bottom, she shone the light into the darkness, to the left, then to the right. Hmm . . . I think the books are over there with your school memories. She’d kept two boxes for each of her children—crafts, first pair of shoes, baby blankets, and various keepsakes. Let’s see. She moved toward the corner and squatted down, illuminating the area. That’s Lloyd’s school stuff, she said, pointing to the nearest box. And there are yours and Benjamin’s boxes.

      Pausing, she stood up. I know that box of old books is around here somewhere.

      Catherine was across the room, having found another flashlight, and she was leaning over something flush against the far wall.

      Emma spotted the books. Here we go. It’s this big box.

      But her daughter didn’t move, so Emma went to her.

      Whose is this?

      Emma shrugged as she pushed a cobweb from the piece of furniture. I guess it’s mine now. It was actually my great-grandmother’s cedar chest, your great-great-grandmother.

      What’s in it? Catherine tried to lift the lid. It’s locked.

      "Ya, I know. When your grandparents moved to the daadi haus, I asked your mammi if she wanted to take it with her, but she said to leave it here, that it was too heavy and awkward to get up the basement stairs. Of course, that was years ago, and I’d forgotten about it."

      She edged closer. "The key is jammed in the lock. Mammi said it was broken off when her grandmother left it to her mother, and then her mother left it to your mammi."

      Emma wondered if her grandmother had intentionally broken off the key in the lock to keep Emma’s mother—or anyone else—from seeing the contents. All she had to go on regarding that theory was something her grandfather had said on his death bed. When Emma had questioned her grandmother about his comment, she’d waved it off as nonsense. Her mother had refused to open the chest, with little explanation, leaving Emma to assume that some things were better left alone.

      Catherine shined her light to the ceiling, illuminating both their faces. Emma recognized her daughter’s wheels spinning as Catherine tapped a finger to her chin. She had always been a curious child. Now, at twenty-four, she hadn’t changed. That means this cedar chest hasn’t been opened in . . . She raised an eyebrow. How long?

      Emma took a few minutes to do the math in her head. Uh, let’s see. She closed her eyes to concentrate, and when she opened them, Catherine’s anxious expression remained. "Mei great-grandmammi Elizabeth would have been born in the early nineteen hundreds. She married mei great-granddaadi when she was nineteen, I think. She shook her head. I’m not sure exactly how long."

      Catherine’s jaw dropped. I can’t believe three generations of women have left this cedar chest unopened—four if we count me and we don’t open it. Whatever is in there was put in there by my great-great-grandmother. She let out a small gasp. We have to open it.

      Emma hadn’t seen a glow in her daughter’s eyes for a long while. Mostly Catherine was quiet and detached. She had a more playful air about her today, and as leery as Emma was to unlock the past, she’d do it

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