Copyright Published by Dreamspinner Press 382 NE 191st Street #88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author‘s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Between Two Promises Copyright © 2011 by Shelter Somerset Cover Art by Catt Ford All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-1-61372-162-9 Printed in the United States of America First Edition October 2011 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-163-6 Dedication To Candice Between Two Promises Chapter One DANIEL SCHROCK stepped out of his garage-converted woodshop and pulled the overhead door shut with a rusty screech. He adjusted his wide-brimmed straw hat to prevent the sun, hovering above the crowns of the hemlocks and cottonwoods, from scratching his eyes. Gravel crunched under his heavy boots as he made his way down the driveway. He caught the whiff of spaghetti and meatballs drifting from the rustic cabin he shared with his boyfriend. Supper would be ready by the time he returned from collecting the mail at the bottom of the lane. Lofty trees leaned into the steep lane and allowed only a slim view of the Swan and Flathead Mountain Ranges. The first dusting of snow had already fallen on the higher elevations. Although hot and muggy in the Flathead River Valley, mid-August above ten thousand feet meant early winter. He headed down the steep lane carefully, mindful of the loose gravel. In winter, he figured trekking to the mailbox would be easier with the snow. He wondered how his brand new Chevy Suburban would handle the snowy terrain. A reliable horse pulling a buggy might have an easier time. He hadn‘t driven a buggy since he‘d lived in Illinois. That was about two months ago. An entire lifetime seemed to have passed since. Most of that Amish world he‘d left behind, ever since he and his boyfriend, Aiden Cermak, had set up housekeeping together in northwestern Montana. They rented the cabin from a middle-aged Missoula couple who had used it as a vacation home. Aiden had wanted to be truly rugged, to live in the woods without any public utilities. But Daniel knew his modern-raised boyfriend would have a harsh time surviving the winters without at least gas heat. In some ways, the plucky Englisher embodied the plain life more than he. 1 1 Shelter Somerset He realized Aiden was frustrated Daniel had yet to—what was the term Aiden always used?—―come out‖ to his family and explain that they were a couple. Things were far too complicated in the Amish world to toss tradition aside, like oat sheaves into a threshing machine. Daniel‘s family knew he was living in Montana, but Daniel never mentioned to them anything about Aiden Cermak living with him. Aiden‘s parents, visiting from Maryland for a week during the Fourth of July, had only stoked Aiden‘s desire for openness. Easier for him, having grown up in the modern East Coast suburbs. Aiden had been out to his parents since college. Daniel, unaccustomed to anyone knowing the intimate details of his life, had counted the days until Mr. and Mrs. Cermak‘s departure. If they had found their only son living with a man improper, they had done a wunderbar goot job concealing their uneasiness. Daniel could never invite his own family for a visit. Not in a million years. Couldn‘t imagine any of them being accepting of his lifestyle. He did miss them though. His large family was on the verge of expanding, with his mother expecting her eighth child any day. Maybe there would be a letter informing him of the baby‘s entrance into the world. He picked up his pace to the mailbox in anticipation of good news. But he slowed. Most likely someone would call him from the phone shack down the lane near the family farm. Such news warranted more than a sluggish post. Aiden had given him a much needed cell phone for his twenty-seventh birthday last week, and he‘d made his first call to his parents‘ Mennonite neighbors, where he had left them instructions to give the family his new number. No one had yet called him. Perhaps they were troubled he was embracing so many of the had yet called him. Perhaps they were troubled he was embracing so many of the modern ways. No, impossible for him to tell his family he was gay and living with Aiden Cermak like any married couple. Twelve mailboxes formed a haphazard row in a turnoff by the junction with the paved county road. They rarely ran into their neighbors. Their cabins were spread out, about one hundred yards apiece, yet sometimes a chance encounter by the mailboxes would force a simple, uncertain greeting. Most of the people living up in the hills, away from the expanding city of Kalispell, were loners, aiming 2 Between Two Promises for a life apart from others. Just as good. Daniel sought refuge away from the prying eyes of society too. He found four pieces of mail. Two were from his Uncle Eldridge, with more orders for furniture, he speculated. Things were picking up from the lackluster past few years. He already had five pending orders for his handcrafted furniture he sold through a website set up and administered by his uncle‘s Englisher friend. Another was a water bill. He shook his head. Bills. No matter how semi-subsistent a person lived, few people could escape bills. The last piece of mail surprised him. There was no return address, but he recognized the sloppy handwriting. It was from his nineteen-year-old brother, Mark. Mark had never written him before. Only his mother and twenty-four-year-old sister, Elisabeth, a teacher back in Illinois, wrote him regularly, sometimes twice a week. Surely one of them would have written him about his new sibling‘s