A CHANCE TO FOLLOW HER HEART, A CHOICE THAT WILL LAST A LIFETIME Although Sadie King is blessed with the voice of an angel, she never thought that following the song in her heart would take her far beyond the strict boundaries of her Amish faith and away from the only home she’s ever known. But during her rumspringa, one road leads to another, and suddenly she’s secretly performing with a band. Now she faces an impossible choice between the music in her heart and the traditions branded upon her soul. Mike Trueherz is a dedicated young paramedic who finds a kindred spirit in Sadie. Torn between family duty and his desire to pursue a life beyond his father’s rural medical practice, he is inspired by Sadie’s honesty and courage. While spring unfurls rich colors and bounty through the countryside of Lancaster County, Sadie and Mike must reconcile their families’ expectations with their own callings. Ultimately, their faith in each other and the God that has brought them together will give them the strength and the peace to take a chance—and to make the biggest decision of their lives. A coming-of-age story reflecting the deepest messages of love, A Simple Spring is music for the heart. Rosalind Lauer is the author of A Simple Winter . She grew up in a large family in Maryland and began visiting Lancaster County’s Amish community as a child. Lauer attended Wagner College in New York City and worked as an editor for Simon & Schuster and Harlequin Books. She now lives with her family in Oregon, where she writes in the shade of some towering two-hundred-year-old Douglas fir trees. one April Oh, send the sunshine down my way. . . .” Sadie King sang the bright song to the green juniper bushes and the chickens and little Sam and Katie and anyone else who wanted to listen on this glorious morning. All around her on the King family farm, plants and animals were coming alive, blossoming and sprouting green leaves and pushing up strong shoots through the earth. Birdsong filled the air around them, along with the scents of honeysuckle and warm grass. The sweetness mixed with the sharp smell of the fields, where her brothers had turned manure in to the warming soil to make it fertile for more things to grow. Signs of spring surrounded her and she poured her joy into the melody that flowed from her heart. God was renewing the farm, breathing life into everything. Including her. Sadie was in Rumspringa, and her new life included an Englisher boy named Frank Marconi and the wonderful good bounty of music he had shown her. Music outside the Amish community wasn’t just used to praise God. There was jazz and rock and roll, music to dance to, folk music and songs to sing along to. The English had songs to make you sad and songs that made you feel like you were soaring between puffy clouds. Like “Blossom,” the song she was singing this morning as she steered her youngest siblings toward the chicken coop. “Stay out here, Katie. You can start feeding them.” Sadie removed the heavy lid from the seed bucket and grabbed a small handful. Two-year-old Katie giggled as she tossed feed onto the ground, attracting the flapping hens. “Eat now! Eat!” she ordered, enjoying this almost as much as the chickens. “Why do we gather eggs twice a day?” Sam asked as he shooed a handful of hens from the coop. At the age of five, Sam was full of questions. “If we let the eggs sit for too long, the chickens might hop onto them and break them,” Sadie explained as she reached to the hook inside the coop for a pair of leather gloves. “Besides, we want our eggs to be fresh as can be.” Most of the chickens had fled the coop, but as usual cranky Lumpig perched on the edge of a nesting box. Her beady eyes dared anyone to come close. “She always stays inside.” Sam put his pail down, frowning. “Why is she so mean?” “She’s just keeping watch over her little treasures. Aren’t you, Lumpig?” Sadie held up her handful of feed for the hen to see, then tossed it out the doorway, onto the ground outside the coop. “Skit-skat.” Immediately Lumpig hopped from the nest, flapping her wings and scurrying to her breakfast. “How do you do that?” Sam asked. “Just distract her with the feed.” “Can I do the eggs today?” “That’s fine, but mind you’re quick about it. Lumpig will be back to guard her eggs again.” Sadie reached for the broom. “You do that, and I’ll sweep up.” As she started to sweep old hay and manure from the corners of the small hut, she launched into a song that made her think of Frank. “Daydreaming and I’m thinking of you . . .” When their band was choosing music to learn, Frank always wanted songs that Sadie could belt out, songs that allowed her to hold the notes a long time. “Bluesy songs,” he called them. “Look at my heart,” she sang, caressing each note with her voice. Sam worked just fine while she sang; he never minded her music, though one day he noted that she knew a lot of songs. And why did he not hear Sadi