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  Less than ten minutes later, it was over, as giggling children returned to their parents who duly noted their efforts and counted their eggs. The Fielding clan had done well, gathering two dozen eggs among them.

  “And here comes Sara,” Jonas called out, seeming more exuberant than one might expect from a man at a child’s Easter egg hunt. “Whatcha got in the basket, sweet Sara?”

  “A bunny!” She held it up. “His name is Peter!”

  “Oh, for Peter Rabbit?” Diane asked, wiping the wet grass off her own daughter’s patent leather shoes.

  “No, for Peter the apostle,” Sara said with conviction. “He was a follower of Jesus who really followed him. Not like that bad guy, Judas.”

  “Good for you, Sara.” Jonas hovered over her basket, peeking inside. “Got anything else in there?”

  “Eggs.” She grinned a pixie grin.

  “Regular old eggs.”

  “Yup,” she sang out. “Except this one.” With that, she lifted the oversize plastic egg out with great care. “It’s pink,” she announced importantly. “And it has a name on it. Look.”

  Sara held the egg up high.

  It did indeed have a name on it, Emilie noticed. Mine. “Is that egg for me, then?”

  Sara nodded. “Whale Man said it is. Oops.” She blushed. “I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

  Jonas tousled her hair and winked at his family, gathered in a loose circle. “No problem, sweetie. Emilie would have figured that out soon enough. Go ahead.” His voice softened. “Open it. We have a good twenty minutes before church starts.”

  Emilie shook it first, wanting to stretch out the suspense. For a woman who hated surprises, she’d learned that when Jonas Fielding was involved, they were always wonderful. Eventually.

  She gazed at him now, trying to read his expression. Dark eyes trained on her, crinkled in a smile. Smoothly shaved chin begging to be touched. A grin broad enough to melt any woman’s heart.

  “Please, Emilie?”

  He didn’t have to ask again. She gently pulled the two halves apart, holding them as if they contained real egg whites that might come spilling out in a gooey mess.

  One half was empty.

  The other half had three small, gold keys, all different sizes and shapes.

  “What …?” Emilie poured them out in her hand, holding them out for all to see. “Am I to wear these on a necklace, Jonas? Charms, perhaps?”

  “Well, you are a charming woman, but no, that’s not what I had in mind.” In two steps, he was by her side, close enough that she could feel his warmth, catch a whiff of his aftershave, sense one hand sliding around her waist.

  “Now this key—” he began, holding up a flat, ordinary one—“this fits that.” He pointed to the parking lot, where Chris had positioned himself next to an older but sturdy BMW in powder blue. “Behold your new wheels, Emilie Getz. Used, of course, but only because brand new doesn’t become you, Madame Historian.”

  Her carefully lined lips dropped open. “For me? A … car? Jonas, you didn’t!”

  “I did.” He grinned and lifted out the second key. “This one should look familiar.”

  She stared at it for a moment, then fumbled in her purse for its twin, holding it up with a gasp. “They do match! It’s a key to the Woerner house. The place I’m renting,” she explained to his family, who exchanged knowing smiles. Were they in on everything?

  Jonas lifted his broad shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “You can call it the Woerner house if you want to—for historical reasons—but according to the deed, which is now in your name, there’s not a reason in the world it can’t be forevermore known as the Getz house.”

  “Jonas!” She was having trouble breathing. “What about the dear people who—”

  “The missionary couple? They asked the church to sell it for them.” He grinned. “I helped. Dee Dee handled the paperwork.” He patted her cheek, no doubt feeling the heat that had pooled there. “You seemed so at home in your little Main Street cottage.”

  “Well … I am, but … Jonas!” She looked for somewhere to sit down before she fainted, then realized fainting was the least of her worries.

  “Oh, but Jonas!” This is not good, not good at all. “What will happen to my precious house when I have to go back to Salem College and … and …?”

  “That’s where this third key may come in handy.” He stood in front of her now, toe to toe, effectively blocking the others from her view, as if he wanted her all to himself.

  Jonas Fielding, I’m yours for the asking.

  Had her gift communicated her love for him, as she’d hoped?

  Did her eyes tell him so now, as his so eloquently expressed?

  Might the warmth of her hand, enveloped by his, let him know that he made her heart beat faster, her skin grow pinker, her toes start tingling?

  Does he know, Lord?

  Yes, Emilie. He does.

  “Jonas,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, obviously not caring for a moment that they had an audience.

  Nor did she.

  “Emilie,” he whispered back. “Kiss me.”

  Which she promptly did, with pleasure. “Now about that key. What does it open?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Don’t you know?”

  She held it up. “It’s a rather large key, I know that much. Not the type that fits in a car or a house, and anyway, you’ve already amazed me with those.” Studying it, she took a few educated guesses. “Something valuable?”

  “I hope you’ll think so.”

  “Is it old?”

  He laughed at that. “Old enough.”

  “Is it big, this thing it opens?”

  “Some have said so, yes.”

  Emilie racked her brain. “Is it breakable?”

  “Most definitely.” His eyebrows knit together for a brief, stern look. “I’ll count on you never to do so.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she assured him, then shrugged. “Jonas, I’m afraid I’ve run out of questions and still don’t know what this might open.”

  “The truth is, Emilie Getz, it’s already wide open and waiting for you to move in. Permanently. I’ll tell you what this key opens.” He whispered two words in her ear.

  “Oh, Jonas!” Now she really might faint. “Are you saying …?”

  “I’m saying marry me, Emilie Getz. Make my heart your home.”

  He slipped his arms around her, tickling her bare back because he was a Fielding, then gently kissing her because he was Jonas. “Say yes, Emilie. Say you’ll come home to Lititz for good. And come home to me, forever.”

  “Yes, Jonas.” Tears were poised on her lashes, making everything around her shine like stars. “I will.”

  “That’s it! I heard an ‘I will!’ ” announced Chris, creating no small amount of ruckus among the assembly. Emilie stepped back, startled to find herself suddenly surrounded with hugging, cheering Fieldings. Had they truly been there all along? Somehow she’d only had eyes for Jonas, who was now enduring backslaps and high fives with his usual aplomb.

  “So.” Diane flashed a toothsome smile. “When’s the wedding?”

  Jonas held his hand up. “Not so fast. The woman just said yes.”

  Emilie shook her finger playfully. “But the woman is not getting any younger.”

  His brows arched. “Are you saying you’re in a hurry?”

  “I’m saying I can’t wait.”

  A grin covered his face. “Name the day, pretty girl.”

  She laughed and patted his chest. “August 13, then.”

  “Of course.” He rolled his eyes, ignoring the crowd jostling around them. “Another historic Moravian anniversary, right?”

  Grinning so broadly her cheeks hurt, she nodded. “So it is.”

  As they both leaned forward to seal their plans with a kiss, the church bells began to toll the half hour, calling all to worship. Their lips touched briefly, the
n Jonas took her arm and led the way as the Fielding clan moved with the crowd heading toward the door and a glorious celebration of Easter.

  When they came around the corner, Jonas saw him first.

  Nathan.

  He was standing a dozen feet back from the front door of the church. Waiting, it seemed. His expression was blank. His attire clean but casual, not chosen especially for Easter Sunday.

  “Oh, Nate!” Emilie held her breath, not knowing what brought him there, fearing another painful confrontation to spoil the most amazing day of her life. Selfish, Em! Just pray.

  She watched Nate blanch, stepping back as all three brothers and assorted family members came sweeping around the corner then stopped, obviously as surprised as she was.

  Jonas went forward first, arms outstretched. “Nate. Welcome.” She heard the elation in his voice, felt the eagerness in his stride as she hurried to keep up with him. “You managed to talk them into letting you out, eh?”

  Nate nodded solemnly. “Looks like I’ll be doing some community service for a few weeks.”

  Jonas nodded, clearly pleased. “Good, good.” He tipped his head toward the door. “You’ll join us this morning, then?”

  “No. I just knew I’d find you here.” He looked down then, as if at a loss for what to say next. “Look, Jonas—” he glanced up, his skin ruddy—“I have a pretty good idea what you did yesterday.”

  “Oh?”

  “That slip of paper is missing from my wallet. Unless I’m wrong, I think you paid my debt. In full.”

  “Is that right?” Jonas’ smile was warm, without judgment, without pride.

  Nathan’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “Jonas, you …” His voice was raw with emotion. “You saved my life, brother.”

  “Someone did that for me once, Nate. I’m simply returning the favor.” He held out his hand. “Sure you won’t come to church with us?”

  “I’m sure.” Nate stepped back, but Jonas snagged his elbow and pulled him forward.

  “So be it. Another Sunday, maybe. Meanwhile, there are two guys and their families here who will take me apart limb by limb if I don’t let them get a shot at you.”

  Jonas stepped aside as Chris and Jeff moved forward. Emilie eased closer to Jonas, swallowing hard. Here come the Marines. She watched their broad shoulders and muscular arms embrace Nathan, one by one, in a manly bear hug. None of them were crying, but none of the four brothers were dry-eyed either, Emilie noticed, sniffling herself.

  Jeff spoke first. “Nate, you look … good. We’re glad you showed up today, brother.”

  “Got that right,” Chris chimed in, punching his arm.

  Nathan nodded, the set of his mouth firm. Too firm, like he was holding something in.

  Help him, Lord.

  But he said nothing, only listened as the twins brought forward their children for inspection, followed by a brief hug from Diane and a Texas-style squeeze from Connie.

  Jeff reached out and tugged Jonas back into the fray. Since her arm was tucked in his, Emilie inadvertently stumbled into their circle as well. Jeff winked at her. “Heard about the newest addition to the family, Nate?”

  Nathan’s eyes met hers. Steady, not blinking. “Congratulations, Emilie.” His volume dropped in half. “I’m … sorry … about Thursday.”

  The lump in her throat wouldn’t budge. “Me too,” she managed to get out, hanging on to Jonas for support. “I … I wish you’d join us for church, Nate.”

  “Not today. Another time, okay?”

  She knew there would be no other time, could feel him pulling away from them, disconnecting. Don’t let him leave, Lord!

  “I gotta go.” He backed up, stepping right into Helen Bomberger’s path as she scurried up the walk toward the sanctuary.

  “Oh!” Startled, the older woman abruptly stopped, her Easter bonnet knocked to the ground. Nathan’s face turned a brighter shade of red as he steadied her, brushing off her floral crown and handing it back to her with a slight apology.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, then turned back only long enough to say, “See ya,” before he straightened his shoulders and started down the sidewalk toward Main.

  “Call me, Nate!” Jonas hollered above the chime of the church bells.

  Nate didn’t turn back, only lifted his hand and kept walking. The three remaining brothers exchanged looks that spoke volumes—and decades—then gathered their families around them, even as Jonas pulled Emilie closer and slowly followed the crowd toward the narrow wooden doors.

  He stopped on the church steps and tapped his brother on the shoulder. “Save us a seat downstairs, will you, Jeff?”

  His younger look-alike shot him a knowing grin. “See you inside, brother,” he said with a chuckle, then disappeared through the doors.

  Emilie, meanwhile, couldn’t stop watching Nate, separating himself from his family with every step. “What will happen to him?”

  “I think God isn’t finished with Nathan Fielding yet.” Jonas gazed at the retreating figure for a moment, sighed heavily, then slowly turned back toward her, his features softening. “But he’s doing a mighty fine work in you, Emilie Getz.”

  She basked in the warm glow she saw shining on his face, and touched his rough chin. “I had a good teacher.”

  He grinned and kissed her finger. “Takes one to know one.”

  “Oh, Jonas!” Her heart was so full she feared she might faint. “I can’t wait until you are my … husband.”

  Husband! The very word gave her chills.

  His eyes darkened. “I can’t wait either.” He leaned against the sanctuary door, assessing her. “Come August 13, beloved, have you any thoughts about where you might like to set up housekeeping?”

  She felt her eyebrows hit V formation in record time. “My house, of course.”

  “That old place?” He winked. “How ’bout I bring my new curtains, at least?”

  “No!” She ducked her head when an usher shot a stern look out their direction and dropped her voice to the faintest whisper. “My antique curtains are fine. You may, however, bring your Explorer.”

  “Such a generous woman.” He tipped his head. “You’ll serve coffee for breakfast, yes?”

  She nodded. “And tea. I expect you to feed Trix and the rest of our menagerie, though.”

  “Deal. Long as you water the plants.”

  “Humph.” Her chin jerked ever so slightly. “I thought you liked playing with dirt.”

  “Mountains of dirt, not little clay pots. That’s your department.”

  “Very well.” A more serious thought crossed her mind. “Speaking of departments, I suppose the folks at Salem will be able to get along without me.”

  “Their loss will no doubt be Franklin and Marshall’s gain.” His grin was a lethal weapon. “I happen to know they have an opening. In the history department.”

  “Oh?” She managed to sound nonchalant, even as her heart soared. Thank you, Lord! “That might be a good fit.”

  He tapped her hat playfully. “Speaking of which, this bonnet of yours is a perfect fit.”

  “You think so?” She lifted her hand to the brim and tried hard not to sound pleased as punch.

  “I do. And underneath it is the most intelligent, beautiful, joy-filled woman I could ever want for a wife.”

  Emilie laughed as the church bells chimed the quarter hour and, without a moment’s hesitation, tossed her hat into the fresh April air.

  Helen Bomberger’s Moravian Sugar Cake

  1 package (or cake) yeast

  ¼ cup lukewarm water

  ½ cup Crisco shortening

  ¼ cup sugar 1 egg

  1 ½ teaspoons salt

  ½ cup mashed potatoes

  ½ cup scalded milk, cooled

  3 ½ cups flour

  Crumb Topping:

  ½ pound brown sugar

  1 ½ tablespoons flour

  1 teaspoon cinnamon

  ¼ cup butter in small bits

  Add yeast to lukewarm
water, set aside. Cream shortening and sugar. Beat in egg. Add mashed potatoes and salt. Add yeast water to cooled milk and add that to mixture. Add flour and mix until it forms a solid dough. Knead the dough only until smooth. Place dough in large greased bowl, cover with cloth, and set in a warm place. Let dough rise 3 to 4 hours, until it doubles in size. Pat out dough in two greased 9 by 13 pans and let rise again for another 1 ½ hours. Poke holes across the top of the dough in 2-inch intervals. Fill holes with bits of butter and cover entire cake with crumb topping. Bake at 375 degrees for 15 minutes. Makes two 9 by 13 pans.

  Dear One:

  What a thrill it was to write this second novel for you!

  I hope you’ve fallen in love with Lititz, Pennsylvania, my hometown and one of the most charming boroughs in America. It was pure joy to walk those streets again—in person doing my research and in my mind as I wrote the book. Thanks to the Lititz Record Express that landed on my doorstep weekly, I was able to make the dates, times, places, even the weather conditions, as accurate as possible. The characters are fictional (though you’ll never convince me of that!), but the streets and businesses are delightfully real. Come visit Lititz in the heart of beautiful Lancaster County and see for yourself.

  Even more than the town itself, Bookends is the story of the Lititz Moravian Congregation, where as a child, I first heard of God’s love for me. When I tell people I grew up as a Moravian, they often pat my hand and murmur, “I’m so sorry. Is that a cult?” (tee-hee!) The Moravians are in fact the oldest of the Protestant denominations, predating the Reformation by sixty years. Perhaps your only exposure to the Moravians has been spotting one of our many-pointed white stars shining brightly on someone’s front porch at Christmastime. Within these pages, I tried to give you a deeper glimpse into the rich spiritual heritage that the Moravians—originally known as the Unitas Fratrum—bring to the world.

  Moravians are fond of proclaiming as our watchword: “In essentials unity, in nonessentials liberty, and in all things love.” What a perfect rallying cry for our two main characters, Emilie Getz and Jonas Fielding! Although these two began like “bookends,” facing life in opposite directions on every point, I loved watching the Lord turn them toward one another and toward him. Emilie’s journey was a joy to behold, and Jonas positively stole my heart. (My dear husband Bill has insisted on taking it back …)