Ella: An Amish Retelling 0f Cinderella (An Amish Fairytale Book 2) Read online

  “SO IF BLUE SPRINGS IS A QUIET LITTLE FARMING COMMUNITY,” ELLA SAID, “THEN WHAT BRINGS YOU TO ECHO CREEK?”

  “Ah.” He leaned over and, with a finger to his lips, whispered, “It’s a secret.”

  Ella feigned a look of grave seriousness. “In that case, you’d best not be telling me, or anyone else, your business. Otherwise it won’t be a secret any longer.”

  “Quite true. The best way for people to keep a secret is if they don’t know it.”

  The dirt path ended, and they were on the main road. Ella stopped walking and glanced both ways to see if anyone was coming. “This is the main road to town.” She pointed to the left. “Walk about a quarter mile or so, past those three houses, and you’ll be in the center of town.” While facing him, she took a few steps backward. Her house was the second house in the other direction, just after the unpaved lane that led away from town. “I wish you success in your business. . .” She paused. He had never properly introduced himself. “I’m sorry, I never did catch your name.”

  He gave her a broad grin. “That’s because I didn’t tell you.”

  “Is that part of your secret?” she asked.

  Also by Sarah Price

  Belle: An Amish Retelling of Beauty and the Beast

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  ELLA

  An Amish Retelling of Cinderella

  SARAH PRICE

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  “SO IF BLUE SPRINGS IS A QUIET LITTLE FARMING COMMUNITY,” ELLA SAID, “THEN WHAT BRINGS YOU TO ECHO CREEK?”

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Ella’s Special Recipes

  Teaser chapter

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Price Publishing, LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

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  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4506-9

  ISBN-10: 1-4201-4506-1

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4507-6

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4507-X

  Prologue

  Ella stared out the window, her forehead pressed against the glass as she waited for her father’s buggy to pull through the open gate. She wore her favorite blue dress with her freshly washed black apron tied at the waist. In anticipation of meeting her future stepmother, she had even bleached and ironed her prayer kapp.

  Three years had passed since her mother had died. During that time, Ella and her father had lived alone in the small white house in the center of Echo Creek, just down the road from the general store that her father owned. And while Ella was perfectly content, she had known for a while that her father was lonely.

  Only a few days earlier, her father had sat her down for a serious talk. Ella had felt extremely grown up. She could remember when her parents had had serious talks—talks that she was not allowed to hear. Sometimes those talks had been about the general store. Other times, it was about things related to the annual Council Meeting that was held each October.

  “Ella, it’s been a long time since your maem passed away,” her father had started. “And it’s well past time that I remarry.”

  He looked uncomfortable as he spoke, tugging at his beard and avoiding her blue eyes. Ella wondered if this serious talk had anything to do with the serious talks her father had recently had with their church district’s bishop and deacon.

  After clearing his throat and tugging once again at his beard, he finally met her gaze. “I want you to understand, Ella, that no one will ever replace your maem. But you’ll be finishing school this year, and you need a new muder to help you learn things. Woman things.”

  Ella gave him a soft smile.

  “Cooking. Gardening. Canning. Sewing. I can’t teach you those things, even if I did have spare time from tending the store.”

  “It’s okay, Daed,” Ella said, sounding much older than her thirteen years.

  But he wasn’t finished.

  “Now, Bishop has introduced me to a woman from Liberty Falls.” His eyes darted away from hers. “A widow. Linda has two dochders just a little older than you. She’s agreed to join our family.”

  For a moment, Ella’s heart began to sink. She had always suspected that her father would remarry. Most Amish men did. Yet this news was surprising to her. After all, it was one thing to have a stepmother—but stepsisters, too?

  “I’ve invited them to visit this Sunday after worship. So that you can get to know them.”

  Ella blinked. “What are they like?” she asked. “My new schwesters?”

  Her father had merely stared at her with a blank expression. And that was when Ella had realized the visit on Sunday was not just for her to get to know Linda and her daughters, but also for her father to do the same.

  Now, as Ella waited for their arrival, she kept repeating the words her mother had told her just before she died: Be kind and good, no matter what happens, for God has a plan for you. While Ella didn’t quite fancy the idea of sharing her father and their home with three strangers, she certainly would follow her mother’s sage advice and make them feel welcome.

  She heard the sound of an approaching horse and buggy. Taking a deep breath, Ella moved away from the window and hurried to the front door. Be kind and good . . . She said a quick prayer for God to help guide her tongue, and then she stepped outside onto the porch to greet them with a smile and a wave.

  The front window of the buggy was open, and Ella saw her father wave back. The woman seated beside him, however, did not. Ella shielded her eyes from the bright September sun. She could barely make out the woman’s features. Perhaps Linda had waved, and Ella hadn’t seen it? Or perhaps Linda was as nervous as Ella?

  As her father stopped the horse in the driveway
along the side of the house, Ella hurried down the porch steps and followed the gravel path toward them.

  Her father slid open the buggy door and bounded out, grinning at Ella with a look of joy on his face that she hadn’t seen in years.

  “Ella! Kum and meet your new muder.”

  Stepmother, Ella thought before her own mother’s words echoed in her head. With a forced smile and determination to make her mother proud, Ella stepped forward as her father helped Linda down from the buggy.

  For a moment, Linda stood there with her back to Ella. She seemed to be waiting for her daughters to climb over the folded-down seat, rather than turning to meet her soon-to-be stepdaughter.

  Her father didn’t appear to notice.

  “Hello, Linda,” Ella said, hating how small her voice sounded.

  When the woman turned around, Ella fought the urge to catch her breath.

  Linda was a tall woman; taller than Ella’s father. And she was robust in her build. Her dark, steely eyes stared at Ella, narrowing just a little as she studied the young woman standing before her. Her mouth pursed, and little lines creased her lips.

  “My goodness, John,” she said, her voice almost sounding like a cat purring. “You never mentioned that your dochder is so”—her eyes trailed Ella from head to foot—“pretty.”

  Ella’s father gave a nervous laugh. “I suppose I focus more on her inner beauty than her outer.”

  Ella blushed and stared at the ground.

  “Me first!”

  “No, Anna! I’m older!”

  “I’m closer, Drusilla!”

  Linda turned toward the buggy, her movement slow and fluid, as if it were calculated and not in response to her two daughters fighting in the back of the buggy. “Girls. Please,” she cooed. “Come and meet your schwester.”

  The buggy jostled and eventually two young girls emerged. They stood beside their mother, one on either side of her. Ella gave them a quick assessment and smiled.

  Neither Drusilla nor Anna returned the gesture.

  The first thing Ella observed was that both daughters had inherited their mother’s big bones. And while they weren’t necessarily obese, they were far too heavy for girls of such a young age. Ella wondered if they ate poorly or simply didn’t work around their house.

  “I’m Ella,” she said at last, breaking the silence.

  “She has a prettier dress than I do,” said the shorter of the two girls.

  “Anna. Please.”

  “Is this going to be our new home? It’s much smaller than where we live now,” complained the other girl.

  “Drusilla, mind your manners.”

  Ella glanced at her father, but he was tending to the horse.

  “Perhaps you’d like to come inside?” Ella gestured toward the front door. “I’ve made some meadow tea and cookies.”

  Linda stared at her as she nudged her daughters toward the house. “Isn’t that sweet, girls? Your new sister has made cookies.”

  Anna glanced up at her mother. “She’s not our new schwester yet.”

  Linda gave a light laugh as if to mask her daughter’s impertinence. “Well, she will be in just a few weeks, so go along, girls. Get to know her and our new home.”

  Reluctantly, Anna and Drusilla walked past Ella and headed into the house. Ella was about to follow them when she felt a hand on her arm. Surprised, she turned around to face Linda.

  “They’re nervous,” Linda said in a soft voice. “Forgive their ill manners. A lot has happened in the past year . . . losing their daed, and now their home.”

  Ella digested what Linda had just told her. For a moment, she put herself in Anna and Drusilla’s shoes. Oh, she knew the pain of losing a parent. Whether one year or three, the pain never lessened. She could truly empathize with how distressing all of this must be to Linda’s daughters.

  “I understand,” she said at last. “Truly I do. And I promise to do what I can to help make them feel welcome and at home.”

  Linda reached out to pat Ella’s cheek. “Not only pretty, but kind.”

  To Ella, her words and gesture sounded more patronizing than genuinely sincere. As soon as she thought that, Ella scolded herself, remembering that the loss of Linda’s husband and home must be impacting Linda just as much as her daughters.

  “Now hurry along, Ella.” Linda shooed her away, a forced smile on her lips. She glanced over her shoulder at Ella’s father and squared her shoulders. “We’ve adult matters to discuss, so make certain to keep the girls busy.”

  It wasn’t a request but a directive. No “please.” No “thank you.” Just a fake smile and marching orders to disappear.

  As Ella hurried along the walkway toward the front door, there was one thing she knew for sure and certain. Her father had been correct when he had told her no one would ever replace her mother. And even if someone might come close, Ella knew that “someone” was not Linda, for her soon-to-be stepmother was everything that her mother was not.

  Chapter One

  “Oh, these mice!”

  Ella looked up at the sound of her stepmother’s voice. Linda had just emerged through the cellar door, her arms laden with a dusty cardboard box of canning jars.

  “Honestly, Ella!” Linda scowled at her stepdaughter as she kicked the basement door shut with her foot. “I won’t go down there anymore if you cannot get rid of those dirty little creatures!”

  Ella lowered her head so her stepmother couldn’t see that she smiled to herself. “I’m sorry, Maem.” It wasn’t a lie, although if her stepmother had inquired as to what, exactly, Ella was sorry about, she’d be surprised to learn that Ella was sorry about having no intentions of getting rid of the mice.

  Dropping the box onto the kitchen table, Linda brushed some dust from her sleeves. “You should be! I don’t know why you fight me so on mousetraps!”

  Ella knew better than to reply. It was an argument that was many years old and not worthy of rehashing. The truth was that Ella thought mousetraps were inhumane. And the sticky pad traps? Even worse. Whenever her stepmother brought home mouse poison, Ella would sneak down in the early morning hours to throw it away. After all, even mice were God’s creatures and had a role in the world, even if her stepmother thought otherwise.

  “I want that basement cleaned, Ella.” Linda frowned, the deep-set wrinkles in her forehead making her look older than her fifty years. “It’s full of cobwebs and dirt. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

  It wasn’t as though Ella went down there every day, but she didn’t want to point that out to her stepmother. Besides, she knew that the basement wasn’t half as bad as Linda claimed. Long ago, Ella had learned that sometimes her stepmother just needed something to complain about. Clearly, today was one of those days.

  “I’ll do it later,” she said, even though, deep down, Ella knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to get to it. After all, today was Saturday, and she needed to finish the laundry. Tomorrow was a worship Sunday, and she needed to make certain that everyone’s worship clothes were clean and pressed. While she always washed the family’s Sunday dresses and aprons on the Monday following service, leaving them hanging on a hook in each person’s room, Ella never knew what her stepsisters might have done since then: dropped them on the floor, pushed other dresses into them, carelessly spilled something on them . . .

  Tending to the clothes worn for worship always took a long time.

  And, of course, she needed to finish baking the bread that she had already started. Fifteen loaves of it.

  Every day she made bread for her stepmother to sell at the store. Afterward, Ella would clean the bathrooms and kitchen floor, letting the sweet, yeasty smell of the bread fill the house while she worked. And then, of course, she needed to make supper. But, if time permitted, Ella would try to get to cleaning the basement so that her stepmother would have no complaints when she returned from working at the general store that evening.

  No evening was enjoyable if Linda had reason to complain, tha
t was for sure and certain.

  Linda walked around the kitchen table and quickly washed her hands in the sink. “When Drusilla and Anna awake, make certain they eat breakfast before you send them to the store to help me. Otherwise they’ll be snacking on inventory all day!”

  Glancing at the clock, Ella saw that it was seven thirty. She had already been up for over an hour and was sorting the laundry by color. Whites would get washed in hot water, and colors in cool. While many Amish women disliked washing clothes in the old diesel-powered machines, Ella didn’t mind. There was something relaxing about ridding the clothes of dirt, almost as if fresh clothes gave the wearer a second chance.

  And her sisters definitely could benefit from that.

  “I will, Maem.”

  Linda reached up to touch the sides of her graying hair that poked out from beneath her prayer kapp. “And send them with a nice dinner meal for the three of us. Something hot today, I think.” She leaned down and looked out the window. “Ja, perhaps chicken and mashed potatoes.”

  The request made Ella pause as she mentally added it to her long list of chores. How would she be able to cook that in the short period of time between now and when her stepsisters needed to get to the store?

  “And not so much pepper on the chicken,” her stepmother scolded. “Why, I near choked to death on your last batch.”

  Linda smoothed down the front of her dark burgundy dress and reached for her purse. Without so much as a goodbye, she swept from the room, loudly shutting the door behind herself.

  Picking up the basket of whites, Ella settled it on her hip and carried it to the back porch, where the washer and wringer dryer were located. She set the basket onto a bench and hurried down the three steps to where the diesel engine was. Within minutes, she had it started and hot water was pouring into the washer.