Dazed and achy, she had curled up on the porch swing, called Jennifer, and told her everything: how she and Jonas lived together those magical few days on the farm, how Jonas promised to leave with her, how Nora came home and twisted everything until she didn’t recognize her own face, and how the Rishel family rode off in the ambulance, leaving her alone.

“Do you love him?” Jenn asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The reasons unspooled from her heart like a silken thread. “He’s gentle and kind. He listens to me, and he cares about what I think. He’s interested in everything—he reads the Times, believe it or not. And I admire him. I love how hard he works. I love that he spent hours designing and building me a gazebo. I love his boots and the stupid straw hat…and that he taught me how to make a blueberry pie from scratch and thinks I’m pretty with hay in my hair. I just love how simple life is with him.”

“Simple, huh?”

The chains squeaked. Distant haze shrouded the ridgeline. “When I’m with him, I see clearly. On the farm you don’t have time for anything besides the work and being together—”

“And the hayloft, apparently.” Jenn capped a giggle with a snort.

A flush spread across her collarbones. “And the hayloft. And the milking and the baking…and the lamplight.” Just for a moment, she allowed herself to drift into that shadowy kitchen. To luxuriate in warm, fragrant bathwater, knowing he was just outside.

“I’m going out on a limb here, sweetie. Sounds like a whole lot of what you love about this guy is that he’s Amish.”

She lowered a foot, slowing her rocking. Was Jenn right? Did she love the trappings and not the man? “I mean, he’s Amish, but he lives by his own rules, too.”

A siren wailed through the background of Jenn’s call. Tessa’s own surroundings were perfectly still. She loved Green Ridge. Would she really leave?

“Even so,” Jenn went on, “could you live with yourself if you took him away from his family and his community? I almost hate to ask, but would you still love him if he weren’t Amish?”

She gripped the chain, pinching her index finger between links. She winced and pulled herself upright. “Well, he’ll always be Amish—”

“No. If he leaves with you, he’ll just be Jonas…in suspenders and a funny hat.”

She dropped her head against the swing. Jenn was right. Tessa couldn’t steal Jonas from his family, his heritage, and his Amish life. She’d never forgive herself, and no matter what he said about wanting to leave, Jonas might not forgive her either. She had hung up the call, more certain than ever she needed to go far, far away from Green Ridge.

Would I still love him if he weren’t Amish?