They took her childhood, but they couldn't take her voice.
At ten years old, Ivy Schrock’s world is shattered when her father’s abuse leaves her hospitalized and torn from her Amish home. Thrust into the foster care system, she is forced to navigate a string of families where survival is never guaranteed. Each placement erodes her trust, yet she slowly learns the strength of independence and the fragile power of friendship.
As Ivy grows, the scars of her past refuse to fade. As a new passion offers a way forward, old shadows resurface, threatening to pull her back under. Heartbreak and betrayal sharpen the questions she cannot escape: Where does she belong, and how much of her past can she leave behind?
Through resilience and courage, Ivy is determined to forge a life of her own, opening her heart to love, friendship, and a future she never thought possible.
They took her childhood, but they couldn't take her voice.
At ten years old, Ivy Schrock’s world is shattered when her father’s abuse leaves her hospitalized and torn from her Amish home. Thrust into the foster care system, she is forced to navigate a string of families where survival is never guaranteed. Each placement erodes her trust, yet she slowly learns the strength of independence and the fragile power of friendship.
As Ivy grows, the scars of her past refuse to fade. As a new passion offers a way forward, old shadows resurface, threatening to pull her back under. Heartbreak and betrayal sharpen the questions she cannot escape: Where does she belong, and how much of her past can she leave behind?
Through resilience and courage, Ivy is determined to forge a life of her own, opening her heart to love, friendship, and a future she never thought possible.
Her father chose violence and religion over her, her church chose silence, and cancer chose the only person who ever truly loved her. So, at twenty-one, Ivy Schrock chose herself, a whisk, and a worn-down bakery on the edge of downtown.
At 4 a.m., Indianapolis belonged to the restless. The occasional car rumbled past, streetlights flickered, and the city sat in limbo, caught between night and morning.
Ivy knew that feeling well.
Being caught between what was, what is, and what might be.
She’d been awake for hours, jolted from sleep by another nightmare—the same one that always ended with her sister Ruth screaming and no one coming. Not then. Not ever.
Now, she stood in the kitchen of Butter and Bliss.
Here, she was in control.
Here, she wasn’t a victim.
Here, she was someone.
Today was the grand opening of her bakery—the beginning of everything she’d dreamed about. The thought sent a rush through her, quick and bright, like the first sip of strong coffee after too little sleep.
“Speaking of coffee…” Ivy washed her hands and made herself another cup. Today would be huge, and she needed to be awake enough to be able to revel in the glory of it all.
Her own bakery. Her name on the lease.
And no one standing over her shoulder telling her who to be.
Someone dear had told her to follow her passion. Someone Ivy had loved and now grieved.
Ivy inhaled, and the smell of fresh dough took her back to her childhood unexpectedly. She’d stood at another counter once, her small hands pressing into flour-dusted mounds, trying to mimic the sure, practiced movements of her mamm, her biological mother. The kitchen in their Amish home had been their safe space—their morning ritual before the rest of the house woke up.
A memory and moment that felt untouchable.
Until the pounding footsteps from upstairs broke the stillness.
Dat, getting ready to work the farm. Dat, always in a terrible mood. Dat, reeking of liquor at all times of the day.
Ivy had pressed her fingers deeper into the dough, as if working harder could make her invisible. Her mamm’s hand had covered hers in a brief but firm squeeze.
Keep working.
So, she had. It was what she knew how to do. To be of help. To be as perfect as could be so she didn’t cause any trouble.
Ivy shook the memory away, but a shiver skittered down her arms as another flashback took her to the last day with her biological family. The day her life altered forever.
“Stop it, Ivy,” she said.
That day was a long time ago.
That life felt like it belonged to someone else.
Here, in her present, there were no hushed silences, no more hiding, no more bruises and broken bones.
Only the warmth from the ovens, the first of sunlight filtering through the windows, and the quiet beat of her heart, reminding her she’d built a new life for herself.
Something to keep her mind busy and at ease. Something to help with the loneliness.
Ivy turned and checked the muffins baking in the oven. Almost done.
Soon, customers would walk through those doors, drawn in by the promise of warm pastries and hot coffee. They would sit, talk, and fill the space with laughter and conversation.
And she would be here, in the middle of it all, making sure everything ran the way she’d imagined.
She wanted this place to feel safe—a deep breath, the kind of warmth people carried in their memories of home, even if they’d never really known one. It had taken two years of sleepless nights and more setbacks than she cared to count, but she’d done it.
The bakery downstairs, her apartment upstairs—her dream, fully realized.
She moved to the front of the shop, adjusting the seating and straightening the bookcase near the window. It was filled with books she’d handpicked, everything from well-worn classics to contemporary favorites. This building was more than a bakery—it was a space where people could linger, where they could lose themselves in a story while sipping coffee and nibbling on something warm from the oven.
The bell above the door jingled, and Ivy turned to see Fiona stepping inside, cheeks flushed from the early-morning air. A high school junior with curly red hair and an easy, infectious warmth, Fiona had been eager to help ever since Ivy hired her to run the register part-time before school started.
“Morning,” Fiona said, shrugging off her backpack. “It smells amazing in here.”
“Morning.” Ivy smiled. “Thanks for coming in early. First day—no room for error.”
Fiona grinned. “Don’t worry. I told all my friends they have to stop by today on the way to school and try the blueberry muffins.”
“You’re an angel, Fi,” Ivy said. “Let’s make sure they leave with no regrets.”
“You got it, Ivy. Let me know where to start.”
As they moved around, finalizing last-minute details, the door chimed again. Ivy looked up as Camron stepped inside, his broad frame filling the doorway. He carried a bouquet of white roses in a clear vase, looking slightly uncertain but pleased with himself.
Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Flowers? Didn’t expect that. Thank you, Cam.”
Camron smiled. “Figured you deserved something nice today.”
She accepted the bouquet, grateful for the sentiment, and set the vase on a nearby table. Camron was kind and undeniably handsome, stable in a way she should probably appreciate more. As her contractor, he’d helped her bring this building to life, and somewhere along the way, they’d started spending time together outside of work.
Camron Woodward was comfortable. Easy.
But he was not electric. Not the way she’d once felt before—when a single glance could set a fire inside of her, when every touch carried a charge. With Camron, there was no spark, no quiet thrill buzzing beneath the surface.
Camron was a nice man. A good man.
But nice and good weren’t guaranteed to last.
Yep, Ivy had her walls up because walls were meant for protection.
His gaze moved around the bakery, taking it all in. “It looks incredible, Ivy. You did it.”
She took a moment to look around as well, seeing the space with fresh eyes—the golden loaves of bread waiting behind the glass, the bookshelves by the window, the cozy chairs tucked into the reading corner.
“I did,” she murmured, almost to herself. Then she said, “We did,” a little louder. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
She poured him a fresh cup of coffee. Black with a packet of sugar, just the way he liked it.
“For you.” She handed him the cup.
“Thanks.” Camron took the coffee and then glanced at his watch. “I wish I could stay, but I’ve got a new job to get to. Wanted to stop by and say congratulations.”
Ivy gave him a friendly smile. “Thanks for coming by.”
He lifted his coffee cup in a small toast. “To Butter and Bliss. It’s going to be something special.” He kissed her forehead and headed out.
Ivy closed her eyes, exhaling.
The grand opening is today!
She’d spent years imagining this day. And now, here it was.
No turning back.
She straightened, adjusting the flowers in their vase before moving toward the kitchen.
There was work to be done.
Young Ivy's life is forever changed after a chance encounter with a young thief leads to shocking consequences, resulting in her hospitalization and subsequent placement in the foster care system. At just ten years old, she has only known life under her Amish father's strict and volatile rule, so she struggles to adjust to "English" life. Despite her best efforts to be a good foster daughter and earn her place in a safe and stable home, she is moved from placement to placement. Years later, she finds herself trying to rehabilitate those she cares about—lost souls who also suffered in the throes of foster care but have continued to struggle in adulthood.
Told in alternating timelines—Ivy's youth in foster care and her early adulthood—Little Amish Girl by Viola Estrella is both a challenging and inspiring read. By placing glimpses of the present day between chapters depicting the pain of Ivy's youth, the book affords the reader breaks from the turmoil with feelings of hope for a happy outcome. Despite some triggering scenes and a bleak portrayal of life in foster care, the book maintains momentum toward a happy outcome for Ivy. Ivy's coming of age is fraught with turmoil and uncertainty, and her character development is rightfully complex.
Readers who enjoy coming-of-age stories, literary fiction, and tales of exiting stringent religious lifestyles will find a satisfying read in Little Amish Girl. Those who are sensitive to scenes depicting child abuse, domestic abuse, and misogyny may want to avoid this book; however, it is my opinion that the author handled these topics well, with breaks in the timeline to afford the reader adequate periods of relief. Though the book tackles difficult topics, it is not inappropriate for a younger audience; in fact, young adults—especially foster care youth—will likely identify with Ivy and her siblings (both blood and found family). Overall, I greatly enjoyed the story and was highly invested in Ivy's experiences.