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A Sneak Peek from the Next Book in the Amish of Hart County Series

Coming March 2018 from Avon Inspire!

SOMETIMES, THE SOUND of a phone ringing still caught Calvin Fisher off guard. When his cell buzzed for the second time, he pulled it out of his back pocket. Thumb hovering over the screen, he intended to press ignore, but then he noticed the area code.

Eight months ago, he promised he’d never ignore a call from Hart County again. As it buzzed a third time, the sound echoing through the dark alleyway, Calvin pressed answer.

“Hello?” he asked. “Mark, is that you?”

“Ack! Nee, Calvin. It’s Waneta,” his sister-in-law said in a rush. “Oh, Calvin. I’m so glad you answered.”

“Me, too, Neeta,” he murmured. “Hold on one sec, ’kay?” After motioning to the men nearby that he’d be right back, Calvin put the phone up to his ear and started walking. “You okay?” he asked, already feeling awkward. Of course Waneta wasn’t okay if she was calling him. She was Amish and didn’t get on the phone unless she had a good reason.

“I’m not okay at all. Oh, Calvin—Mark and me just got back from the doktah.”

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“Nee, it’s Mark, Calvin.” She paused, her breath hitching something awful. “He’s been feeling poorly for a while, you see, but he didn’t want to let you know. Finally, he went to the doktah two days ago.” She continued, hardly stopping for breath, each word bleeding into the next so fast that he had to stop walking in order to understand her better. “Dr. Hanna sent him to the hospital for tests, then he called us in to his office this morning.”

“What did the doctor tell ya?” he asked as he unlocked the front door of the apartment complex where he lived and trotted up three flights of stairs.

“Th . . . That Mark has cancer.”

A wave of dizziness hit him hard. He stopped again, gripping the worn metal banister so tightly that the edge of it cut into his palm.

“Calvin?” she asked hesitantly. “Calvin, are you still there?”

He closed his eyes. Waneta needed him. “I’m sorry, sis,” he said, intentionally adding his new pet name for her in an effort to ease her worries. “I’m here. Um, what kind of cancer is it? Do you know?”

“It’s renal cell something.”

“Say again?”

“Oh, I can hardly pronounce it. I’m sorry, Calvin. It’s something to do with his kidneys.” Sounding more perturbed, she continued. “Dr. Hanna gave us some literature and a phone number of a nurse who can explain things gut, too. But I don’t know. All I remember him saying is that Mark has cancer and is going to need to have one of his kidneys removed.”

He’d finally made it to his apartment. Unlocking the door, he strode inside and bolted it firmly behind him. Then, as Waneta continued to talk about how worried she was, he did a quick walk-through, just to make sure no one had been in his place since he’d left six hours ago.

When he was assured that everything was undisturbed, he sat down on the chair in the corner of his darkened bedroom. Forced himself to remain calm and keep his voice steady. “Sis, where’s Mark? Can I talk to him?”

“Nee. He’s sleeping. Plus, I didn’t tell him I was going to call you. This is Lora’s phone.”

“Okay. Is Lora there?” Lora was an old friend. They’d all grown up together. She, like Calvin, had left the Amish faith. But also like him, Lora hadn’t wanted to remove her ties and live completely among the English. She’d married a local deputy in the sheriff’s department. She had also become a close friend to all of them.

“Um, jah.”

“Put her on the phone, Neeta,” he said gently. As he heard the phone switch hands, he attempted to gather himself again. But really, all he felt was numb.

“Calvin?” Lora said at last. “Hey.”

“Hey. Waneta told me about Mark’s diagnosis. Have you seen the paperwork? Did you talk to Mark?”

“I talked to both of them. The doctor is very sure, Calvin. Mark has, um, renal cell carcinoma in his right kidney. They want to schedule an operation as soon as possible. Like next week. Can you be there?”

“Of course.” Making the decision, he got to his feet. “I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks.” Lowering her voice, she said, “Mark and Neeta are going to need your help.”

“That’s good because I want to help. Tell Waneta that I’ll see her in the early afternoon.”

“I’ll do that.” He heard Lora murmur something to Waneta as they seemed to move into another room. “Calvin, I need to ask . . . Are you going to bring trouble here?”

He knew what she was asking. As far as she, Mark, Waneta, and the rest of the world knew, he was still involved in a gang. He still did a lot of things that were illegal and that brought on trouble of one kind or another.

“Hope not,” he said, purposely keeping his tone light as he strode into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“You hope not?” Her voice rose. “Calvin, if your being here is going to bring your gun-toting, drug-running friends here, then you need to stay away. Actually, you should tell—”

He cut her off. “Gun-toting, drug-running friends?” he said with a forced laugh. “You make me sound like some kind of gangster. Have you been watching old movies on TV again?”

“Don’t joke about this,” she replied in a steely voice. “You might be pretending that I’m as naïve as half the population of Munfordville, Kentucky, but we both know that ain’t me. I’m serious. You can’t bring your problems and bad habits to your brother’s doorstep.”

As he filled his glass with water from the tap, he found himself wishing again that he could tell someone, anyone, what he was really up to. But because that wasn’t possible, he kept his reply light. “Nothing’s going to happen. Settle down before you get Waneta riled up. Everything is going to be fine.” Before she could go off on him again, he decided it was time to end the call. “Don’t forget to remind Neeta that I’ll be there tomorrow. Bye.”

Calvin hung up before Lora could reply or give him another warning. After tossing his phone on the counter, he drained his glass, then filled it up again.

When he slowly set the glass back on the counter, he smiled to himself. Yeah, that’s what he was drinking now when he got stressed out. Tap water. He wasn’t sure if Lora would have been more shocked or relieved to see that he was no longer enjoying shots of tequila or a six-pack of beer when things got stressful. It hadn’t been easy, but he had cleaned himself up.

Well, at least in private.

Out in public, though? That was a different story. His reputation depended on him being filled with vices and excuses.

When his phone buzzed again, followed by two heavy raps on his door, Calvin carefully set the glass in the sink, grabbed his phone, and approached the door.

He took a minute to get his head back where it needed to be. He couldn’t show weakness. He couldn’t allow anyone to see an inkling of fear or worry or strain in his eyes. After standing up straighter, he exhaled, then pulled open the door. “What?”

“Boss wants you, Cal,” Jenk, one of the men he’d been standing in the alley with, said. Stepping closer, he peered into his apartment. “What’s going on? You sure took off quick when you got that phone call.” Grinning, he said, “You got someone in here or something? One of your old Amish buddies?”

“If I did, it ain’t none of your business, right?” The gang knew he’d been born Amish but believed he had been shunned by his family and had cut all ties with everyone else.

Jenk shrank back, stung. “No. ’Course not.” Now looking at him warily, he shifted his feet. “So, you coming or what?”

Instead of answering, Calvin pulled out his keys and locked his door. He kept his chin up and his expression blank as he walked with Jenk down the hallway. By the time he was walking down the stairs, he was no longer thinking about his brother or Hart County or cancer. Instead, all he cared about was the reassuring weight of the pistol nestled against the small of his back and the fact that no one else was loitering in the area wanting to talk to him.

When they finally stepped outside, his transformation was complete. To everyone in Louisville, he wasn’t Calvin, the former Amish younger brother of Mark Fisher. Instead, he was Cal, the former homeless loser who had found a home with one of the strongest drug-running gangs in the state of Kentucky.

He was also an undercover informant for the DEA.

And he now had less than twenty-four hours to make up a reason to leave that was believable enough to keep everything that he did in this place very far from Horse Cave.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t only be bringing his trouble to his brother’s house. He’d be bringing danger to everyone there, too.

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