Kindle Edition Amazon Juliet Waldron Second Wind Publishing Category:  Romance Publisher: Second Wind Publishing ISBN-10:  1935171224 Type: Fiction Pages: 280 Copyright: April, 2009 ISBN-13: 9781935171225 To help her impoverished family, Sophie agrees to marry a wealthy older man in far off America. Less than twenty-four hours after she arrives in German's Mill, PA events have taken a far stranger turn than anything she could have imagined. Available in print and in Kindle format! Set in Post Civil War Pennsylvania, this tale of an arranged marriage is as much family saga as it is romance. Sophie is a sensitive young woman struggling to make sense of her past and to understand her new homeland and the new community of which she's just become a part. Karl Joseph is not only a veteran of the great war, but scarred by the secret violence of his childhood. How they learn to trust--and to love--is their unique story.        Excerpt Sophie studied her toes. She sat on the double bed in which she'd spent the night, knees drawn up beneath her white lawn nightgown. Lifting her dark head, she gazed through a nearby window at a June morning that shone upon a blooming--but sternly regimented--rose garden. In spite of the warm breeze, she shivered. Then, hoping it wasn't true, for the hundredth time, she looked at the other narrow bed, the one next to hers. Upon it lay her new husband, the rich grandfatherly man who'd paid her way from Germany, a man she'd married only yesterday. Theodore Wildbach was quite dead. Proper, in death as in life, he was flat on his back, hands folded on his chest. He looked a bit like the stone knights lying in the cathedral in her home town. That was how Theodore habitually slept, and how he'd died. Pale lips gaped inside a ring of neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. She'd discovered him upon awakening. She’d arisen and come close, staring, unable to believe her eyes. It was a terrible surprise, nowhere among the thousand twists of fate she'd imagined as she'd journeyed across sea and land to German Mills, Ohio. That was when the shivering began. Stumbling, teeth chattering, Sophie beat a hasty retreat to her bed. She’d sitting there ever since. She kept thinking she ought to feel something, sorrow for Mr. Wildbach, panic at the black abyss of unknowns into which she was plunged, but all she could do was sit, study her toes, and shake. At last she heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Sophie jumped out of bed, dashed across the room, tore open the door and ran into the long hallway. She didn't know which member of the family she’d meet, but she didn't care. She couldn't sit with a corpse--even such a proper one--for another minute! There was her dead husband's unmannerly youngest son, dressed in one of those outfits of worn denim work clothes all the young men around here seemed to wear. He was tall, muscular and blonde. He was also shocked by her sudden and indecorous appearance in nothing more than a summer nightgown. "Herr Karl Joseph!" She how noted his clear gray eyes widened, then began to roll, trying to look anywhere but at her. "Ihr Vater ist Tot!" **** After months of traveling, Sophie stepped out of the coach that had come from Philadelphia, to German's Mill. It had been the goal of a journey that had taken her across the ocean, to the port of New York where she'd been met by Aunt Ilga, her mother's sister. They had traveled by train to Philadelphia where they'd spent two weeks resting in her Aunt and Uncle's fine home. "We want to you to be calm and pretty when Herr Wildbach sees you, Schone Nichte. First impressions are so important." Her aunt had anxiously pinched Sophie's travel-pale cheeks. In a week, she and her aunt were away again, this time in company with her coarse, rich American Uncle Ralph. They’d taken a short train trip to Lancaster, where a coach awaited them. Some hours later, in German's Mill, dapper Theodore, beard neat and elegant, greeted them. He’d worn a new three-piece black suit, waistcoat crossed by a heavy golden watch chain. Herr Wildbach was old enough to be Sophie’s grandfather, but still a fine looking man. He carried a bouquet of fresh cut roses that he'd presented to her. He was formal, but Sophie knew he was looking her over, from the top of her brown head to her brand new high-button shoes. Seeming to approve of what he saw, he smiled gravely, gave her his arm, and escorted her to a shiny carriage which boasted a uniformed black driver. Ilga and Ralph joined them. Her aunt beamed. She had made the match, successfully sparking Theodore's interest. Sophie knew that Uncle Ralph and Herr Theodore were business partners, and that her husband-to-be visited Philadelphia several times a year. It was during one of those business trips Aunt Ilga had found the opening for her proposal. The drive took them through red dirt fields with young corn and green-gray hay fields to a busy little town with rutted streets and many tall, graceful elms and maples. Graciously speaking to Sophie in German, Theodore pointed out "sights of interest" in this, her "new home." From the carriage, she saw a school house, a smithy, a harness maker, and a cooper's shop. A modern brick general store had the porch sitters Sophie had noticed at every general store in America, but there were shoppers, too. Mill and store were Theodore's. The mill itself was on one end of the town, set adjacent to a rushing creek. In the middle distance, Sophie could see a white cataract. Theodore explained that water was diverted along a race to power the mill. Making an expansive gesture, Theodore explained, "My great-grandfather immigrated from Brandenberg to Manheim, Pennsylvania. My father moved up here and built this mill, the cornerstone of this village." It seemed Theodore had gone his father one better, setting up the general store and coining money as the population grew. Wagons drawn by red oxen waited at the mill. Farmers with straw hats, brown faces and baggy, dusty work clothes stood at the loading area doing what farmers everywhere do, discuss the weather. They paused to solemnly tip their hats to the passing carriage. Theodore returned their salute, but did not ask the driver to stop. Over the sound of rapidly falling water, the thump and groan of a working mill was audible. "Where is Karl Joseph?" Aunt Ilga had been studying the men busily loading sacks into wagons. "Out looking at buckwheat," Theodore replied. "Gauging the harvest. My dear, you will meet my youngest, Karl Joseph, tomorrow." Taking Sophie's hand in his, he'd added, "My second son manages my mill for me. It is an excellent place for a young man to acquire a thorough knowledge of business." Then, he pointed up the hill toward a two-story stone house with tall windows and announced, "There is your new home, Miss Neimann." Sophie, who had spent her life in cramped, dark city apartments, had never imagined she would live in such a place. It sat in the midst of a park like space, with tall trees surrounding it. A rose garden in full bloom surrounded it. It would be like a fairy tale, she thought, except for the woman's price I shall soon pay--my body given to that chilly old man! Sternly, she pushed self-pity away. Her father had been an educated man, a civil servant. Since his death, her mother had worked constantly to support the family. As Sophie had done time and again on the voyage, she told herself, "I am unbelievably fortunate to have this opportunity to help my family to a better life. Perhaps, in time, if I please this gentleman, and if he is as generous as Aunt Ilga says, he will let me bring my mother and all my sisters to this wonderful country where there is more than enough for everyone.” Despite of the often-repeated internal lecture, fear churned in the pit of her stomach as the carriage ascended the drive. Theodore handed Sophie down, and escorted her through a great dark door into an impressive but gloomy parlor. It was paneled in walnut, full of massive furniture and Turkish carpets. Dresden figurines crowded every small table. Lace-edged antimacassar lay across the chair backs. China plates lined the rails just below the ceiling. Here Sophie met Herr Wildbach's oldest son, George, and his wife, Sally. Both were distinctly cold, but Aunt Ilga had warned her about them. "George Wildbach thought he had the inheritance sewed up. When you have children—and," she paused to send Sophie a solicitous glance, "I am convinced you will most certainly have that happiness, George and Sally's plans will be out the window." Theodore, in a lord-of-the-manor fashion, introduced Sophie to two housemaids and to the German cook. When Sophie saw how nicely the servants were dressed, she was glad Aunt Ilga had bought her these high-button shoes. It wouldn't have done at all to arrive in German's Mill with those wooden ones she'd worn across the ocean. She'd had leather shoes at home, but her mother had been told that it wouldn't be safe for Sophie to look as if she had anything to steal, so she'd gone on board dressed like a servant. The New York shoes were breaking in nicely, although they still rubbed a little. She'd had to resort to sticking plasters at the heels, but Sophie was thrilled with them anyway. It had only been during Papa's lifetime that she'd owned anything so handsome. That very evening, she and Herr Wildbach, he, starched and upright, were married in the oppressive downstairs parlor. A local dignitary, called a "District Justice," performed the service. Only servants and immediate family were present. Sally Wildbach was tearful, but clearly not with happiness. Her husband, George, a stooped younger copy of his elegant father, appeared preoccupied. Karl had arrived late, just after Theodore had opened his pocket watch and declared he "would not wait one second more to convenience that impertinent puppy." "Puppy," Sophie saw, did not really describe Karl Joseph. He was taller than either father or brother, muscular and fair, out of a different mold. His handsome face was pale and shadowed, like a man who has spent the night awake. Sophie felt ill-at-ease, for she had an intuition Karl was sorrowfully remembering his mother. When Aunt Ilga had talked about the Wildbachs, she’d explained that Karl Joseph had been deeply attached to his mother, that he’d run away and joined the army just after she died. It didn't take much imagination to guess what he must be feeling. After a brief ceremony, there had been a hearty German supper of roast pork, filling, gravy, kraut, and poppy-seeded noodles. The dessert was a fabulously tender and moist Dampfnudeln--raised dumplings--swimming in a delicious cherry sauce. Sophie's stomach was a knot, so she couldn't eat much, no matter how good the food was and how blessedly familiar. Theodore and her Aunt and Uncle were cheerful, but the other family members were taciturn, particularly Karl. He passed dishes wordlessly and consumed quantities that would have made him champion at an eating contest. He was a polite diner, but the way he kept staring from across the table at her was almost unbearable. His cold gray eyes seemed full of reproof. Under such relentless scrutiny, she wielded her fork with great care. What was the big square-jawed oaf staring at? Was he waiting for her to spill cherry sauce down the front of her new frock? Worse still, how much he looked like Captain Frederick, that wolf in sheep’s clothing whom she’d so foolishly loved! Remembering him, remembering everything that had happened, a chill ran down her spine. Sophie swallowed her last bite with difficulty, set the fork precisely down. Once and for all, she told herself sternly, I must put the folly of the past behind me.

Heart-Warming & Tender
The author has a way of blending all the special elements which make an engaging romance, from the old time country setting to the twists and turns of the love story, as Karl and Sophie rebuild their lives and discover a surprising new love.

--Barbara Workinger, Author of
The Amish Country Mysteries

Dutch Country Charm
Rich in detail, set amidst the charm of Pennsylvania Dutch country, HAND ME DOWN BRIDE is a tender love story set among family rivalries and powerful enemies. This one is guaranteed to grab you by the heart from the first sentence--and not let go.

---Jacqueline Lepore, Author of
A HANDFUL OF DUST