Lancaster County, with its rolling meadows and secret byways, may seem idyllic, but it is not without its thorns. THE ROSE TRILOGY is the stirring saga of two Amish sisters on the fringes of the church, and the unforeseen discoveries that change their lives. Rose Kauffman, a spirited young woman, has a close friendship with the bishop's foster son. Nick dresses Plain and works hard but stirs up plenty of trouble too. Rose's sister cautions her against becoming too involved, but Rose is being courted by a good, Amish fellow, so dismisses the warnings. Meanwhile, Rose keeps house for an English widower but is startled when he forbids her to ever go upstairs. What is the man hiding? Rose's older sister, Hen, knows more than she should about falling for the wrong man. Unable to abandon her Amish ways, Hen is soon separated from her very modern husband. Mattie, their young daughter, must visit her father regularly, but Hen demands she wear Amish attire--and speak Pennsylvania Dutch, despite her husband's wishes. Will Hen be able to reestablish her place among the People she abandoned? And will she be able to convince Rose to steer clear of rogue neighbor Nick? Impulsive and self-absorbed Hen, who left her Old-Order Amish family to marry a man of the world, and sweetly obedient Rose Ann, the younger sister upon whose slim shoulders falls responsibility for their crippled mother’s care, are both troubled in spirit. Hen now has a four-year-old daughter and yearns for a romanticized version of the Plain life she left behind, thus forsaking her husband for her parents’ house. Rose Ann finds solace in currying and riding her father’s driving horses, accompanied only by her dear childhood friend Nick, the rebellious now-grown foster son of their bishop who refuses to join the church. Suspicion, melodrama, and misdirected passions are the order of the day in best-selling, Christy Award-winning Lewis’ newest Amish romance, the first in a trilogy set in 1985 Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and introducing the two Kauffman sisters, one struggling to reconcile her background and beliefs with her obligations, and the other innocently unaware that not one but two young men want to claim her. --Lynne Welch ? Beverly Lewis , born in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, has more than 19 million books in print. Her stories have been published in twelve languages and have regularly appeared on numerous bestseller lists, including the New York Times and USA Today . Beverly and her husband, David, live in Colorado, where they enjoy hiking, biking, making music, and spending time with their family. Visit her website at BeverlyLewis.com. The Thorn The Rose Trilogy #1 By Beverly Lewis Bethany House Publishers Copyright © 2010 Beverly Lewis All right reserved. ISBN: 978-0-7642-0574-3 Prologue September 1985 At times I wonder what might've happened if I'd gone with Mamm that damp, hazy morning eleven years ago. She was so tired—she'd said it herself—preparing for market day. Such a bleak expression dulled her sweet face as she trudged out to the waiting horse and the enclosed gray carriage filled with gourds and squash and other garden vegetables. A shudder rippled through me as I watched her step into the buggy, carrying the rectangular money tin for making change at market. Was I somehow sensing what was just ahead? She set the tin box on the front seat next to her and picked up the reins as I stood on the back steps. Then she gave a faint wave and our eyes locked momentarily. In that burning second, I felt the urge to run out to the buggy and stop her, or at least offer to join her, as though my presence alone might keep Providence from having its way. But before I could do so, Mamm clicked her tongue for Upsy- Daisy to move ahead, and the young mare trotted off by way of Salem Road, where our farm adjoins the bishop's own. Then over one road and down ... down the precarious Bridle Path Lane that rims the rocky ravine, our shortcut to the main roads leading to Quarryville. Even now, as a young woman of twenty, I think back to that miserable hour and tremble, wishing I'd heeded the alarm clanging in my brain. Yet there I stood, watching silently in the mist and the fog. How could I have known Mamm would be found sometime later, lying along the road and unable to walk, the family buggy turned upside down in the rugged ravine below? * * * Around that time, our neighbor, the bishop, brought home a foster child from Philadelphia. I'll never forget the day I met Nick Franco. He was just ten and scrawny as a stick ... his wavy hair as black as a raven. My mother had taken my sister and me next door to welcome him, a basketful of food tucked under her arm. There, in the far corner of the big kitchen, Nick had sat all slumped over, as if someone had dropped a feed bag on his slight shoulders. He was dressed like any of the Amish schoolboys round here—the thin black suspenders and baggy pants