PROLOGUE
Early October, Ice Mountain, Pennsylvania
The ominous crack of the giant pine tree ricocheted through the forest and twenty-one-year-old Daniel Kauffman knew a sudden and resonating fear in his chest.
“Bad cut!” he hollered, dropping his ax and scrambling to move as fast as he could through the wet leaves underfoot. “Run!” he screamed, glancing back to see that his best friend, Seth Loftus, still hadn’t moved.
The tree fell with deadly force, catching Daniel with the tips of its branches and clawing the back of his neck to stinging rawness. But then there was silence, a deafening stillness once the pine met the earth and settled. Daniel stopped running and turned, listening.
“Seth?” He started to climb over the branches. “Seth!”
He worked his way back, heedless of the dense limbs, and found his friend lying in a widening stain of crimson against the mixed colors of the autumn leaves. Seth’s lower body was trapped, and Daniel frantically began to claw at the earth, trying to dig around the huge trunk.
“Dan?”
“I’m here, Seth. Right here. I’m gonna get you out.”
“Nee . . . please . . . kumme . . .”
Daniel swallowed hard as he looked up to the bloody hand raised in faint petition. He scrambled to his friend’s side and bent low to cradle Seth’s head.
“Let me get you out,” Daniel pleaded.
“It was a widow-maker—this tree. Should have known . . .”
“Seth, please . . .” He watched Seth’s blue eyes focus for a moment as he appeared to rally and reached to grasp the collar of Daniel’s black coat.
“Dan, I want you to promise me something.”
“Jah, anything.”
Seth half smiled. “Clara is beautiful, inside and out.”
“I know. I know.” An image of Seth’s wife’s wide pansy eyes flashed through Daniel’s mind, and he blinked away sudden tears.
“She loves baking and cooking. . . .”
Daniel choked on a sob as his friend’s breathing became labored.
“You gotta take your time with Clara. She’s as shy as a doe,” Seth coughed. A tiny bubble of blood appeared beside his mouth.
“Don’t talk, Seth. Save your strength.”
“Nee . . . Promise . . . promise me you’ll marry her, take care of her.... You’re the best . . . best man I know.”
Daniel drew in a harsh breath.
“Promise me, Dan.”
He nodded feverishly. “I promise you, Seth.”
Seth’s grip loosened on his coat as his broken body relaxed.
Minutes later, Daniel allowed wrenching tears to fall as he rocked his dead friend until the cold seeped through and the nacht drew near.
He finally walked away to get help to move the body, and he recalled the promise he’d given in desperation—a heart pledge made in a moment of panic but forged by the enduring grip of love....