Faith pressed her hand to her chest. She felt a tightness there that was becoming expected. She swallowed and wondered how young a person could be and still have a heart attack. The tightness had started the day she returned from her trip to Indiana. She explained it away as fatigue and stress from the trip. Yet, here it was, weeks later. It fluctuated, sometimes the severity lessened, other times it threatened to strangle her. She found herself pulling on her collar, trying to loosen it, only to find that she was wearing a scoop neckline with no way it could be choking her. Most times, the tightness sat on her like a dull ache, spreading through her chest.
She accepted it more or less. She didn’t have much choice. It accompanied her wherever she went.
“You’re excused,” the prof said. “I’ll expect your homework during the first five minutes of our next class.”
Homework? Faith looked around quickly. What homework? Had she gone into a thirty-minute daze? Everyone was scuffling about, gathering their things, and leaving the room. She felt like a fool. She couldn’t ask the teacher what the homework was, nor did she know any of the other students. She snatched up her syllabus. Surely, the homework was written in there.
She dashed from the room, forcing herself to go to her next class.
Chapter Four
Nancy put Miriam down on the braided rug in the front room. “Debbie, would you watch her for a minute? I’m going out to fetch the mail.”
“I can get the mail for you, Mamm,” Debbie offered.
“Nee. I’ll get it. Watch the boppli, now.” Nancy went out the front door and took a huge gulp of fresh air. The coolness flowed through her, giving her a spurt of energy. She needed it. Abel still wasn’t really talking to her, and she found that it took all her energy to keep up the ruse that everything was normal. She’d prayed nearly non-stop, but in truth, she was weary of praying. It didn’t seem to do any good at all.
I’m alone, she thought as she walked slowly toward the mailbox. Just like after I had my first baby. I’m all alone.
She frowned, knowing she was feeling sorry for herself. She detested self-pity, but she didn’t seem to have the wherewithal to counter it. Their metal mailbox glinted in the sun. She opened it and took out a fairly thick envelope. She gazed at the address. It was for her. She turned it over with curiosity. There was no return address.
Strange.
She gave a bittersweet smile, remembering when Abel wrote love letters to her without his return address—all part of keeping their courtship a secret as was the custom. Still, this could hardly be a courting envelope.
She leaned against the mailbox and slid her finger under the flap. She ripped it open and peered inside to see five envelopes. Her curiosity mounting, she pulled one out.
She gasped when she saw the address. These letters were to Old Mae, and Old Mae had evidently forwarded them to her. Her head whirled, and her knees wobbled. This could only mean one thing. She clasped the bundle to her chest and ran under the large oak tree that sat at the very end of their yard. She sank down onto the grass beneath it and leaned against the trunk. Her breath came in puffing jolts, and she saw black spots at the corner of her vision.
The letters had to be from Faith.
She pressed her head against the tree and felt the rough bark through her kapp. Faith had written her letters? Her heart squeezed. So Faith hadn’t given up after being told that she didn’t want to meet her.
Faith hadn’t given up.
Nancy’s hand shook as she stared at the smaller envelope she’d pulled from the larger one. Dared she open it? Dared she read it?
And then her instincts took over, and she nearly ripped the envelope in half getting the letter out.
Dear Mae,
I’m sure you’re probably shocked to hear from me. To be honest, I’m not even sure you’ll read my letter, but I do hope you will. I understand that you can’t tell me who my mother is. I know my mother doesn’t want you to. So, I thought that maybe I could write to you, and then you could share these letters with her.
Nancy began to weep, the tears flowing freely down her face. These letters were for her, from her daughter. Faith didn’t give up. Nancy finished the letter and hungrily pulled the next one out and read it. And the next. And the next. The letters lay opened on her lap as she devoured each word.
And something strange began to happen. Something so unexpected and so foreign to Nancy that she leaned back against the tree and tried to catch her breath. A whooshing sensation roared through her, and her ears began to ring with it. Every muscle shuddered, and a smile grew on her face until she could hardly contain it. She jumped from the ground and twirled. She was a child again. A child who had just given birth to a child. She twirled and twirled until she nearly fell over with dizziness.
She began to laugh, a joyous light sound bursting from her throat. She didn’t even know where it came from. All she knew was that it felt delicious. Overwhelming. Full of contentment and glee and freedom and pure gladness. She gazed up into the branches and had never seen such beauty. She gazed at her hands, still gripping one of the letters, and she marveled at how wondrously she was made. She raised her arms toward the sky, and laughter bubbled from the depths of her being.
“Oh Faith!” she cried. “Oh, Faith. Faith. Faith!”
She whirled again and again and then she saw him. She jerked to a stop as if crashing into a cement wall.
Abel stood there, watching her. His mouth was agape, and he stared at her as if she were some strange unknown creature.
“A-Abel…” Nancy stuttered. She gulped, and her tears dried up. She stood, wobbling slightly from her outburst. She struggled to remain upright.
Abel took one step forward, then stopped. His eyes went to the pile of mail under the tree. A stricken look covered his face. His gaze flew to hers. “Are those… Are those—?”
“Jah!” she cried, suddenly not afraid of his reaction any more. She couldn’t squelch her happiness. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t. “Jah! They are!”
She stood there, beaming at him, raw pleasure on her face.
Abel blinked, as if unsure what to do. Nancy watched him, willed him—silently pleaded with him to please, please, please be happy for her. But even if he wasn’t, she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. After nineteen years, she had contact with her baby.
Abel’s eyes didn’t leave her face. Nancy didn’t move. And then she saw moisture gather in his eyes, and she dropped Faith’s letter and rushed forward, throwing herself in Abel’s arms.
“Abel,” she said with a sob. “She’s written me. My daughter has written me.”
Two seconds … three seconds passed, and then his arms came around her. She gasped and buried her face in his neck and beard. “Abel, I love you,” she said, her voice full of tears. “I love you. She wrote. Ach, Abel. She wrote!”
They stood there and held onto each other, right in public sight of anyone who happened to be passing. After a long minute, Abel let go and gently unwound Nancy’s arms from him.
“Can I read them?”
“Jah! You can read them.” She took his hand and pulled him over to the pile. She sank down to the ground, and he followed her.
She quickly organized the letters by date and handed them to him, one by one. While he read, she reread. She couldn’t get enough of her dear daughter’s words. And Old Mae was right. Faith was a good girl. A nice girl.
When Abel was finished reading, he didn’t speak a word. His eyes were focused on his lap, and Nancy saw him take long slow deep breaths. When he finally looked at her, his eyes probed hers.
“Your mamm? She told you not to tell me?” There was only a hint of accusation there.
“Jah.” Nancy gathered up the letters and clasped them to her chest. “She told me to keep it silent. To never tell anyone.”
“I see.”
“I was a child myself. I obeyed.”
“And it didn’t ever occur to you to tell me later. When we were married? When I
wondered time after time why you would sob uncontrollably after each birth of our children? When you knew how worried I was?”
Nancy sucked in air. “It was too late, Abel.” She reached out and touched his shoulder. “Surely, you can see that. It was too late.”
He shook his head, his eyes not leaving hers. “Never too late for the truth, Nancy.”
She blinked hard. He was right. Of course, he was right. “I was afraid,” she whispered.
“Of me? Your own husband?”
She blew out her breath. Had he forgotten so soon about his reaction to the news? His cruel silent treatment? His bitterness? His anger? It was on her lips to bring it up, but she bit back her words. She couldn’t blame him, could she? How would she have felt if the situation had been reversed?
“I’m sorry.”
He sighed heavily and rubbed his hand down his beard. He shook his head. “She wants to meet you.”
Nancy held her breath.
His eyes were so intent on hers that she felt burned somehow.
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
“We?” she said, her voice trembling.
He looked off into the sky for a moment and then back at her. “I’m tired of secrets.”
She nodded vigorously. “Jah. Jah. Me, too. But what do you think we should do?” Her stomach was trembling so badly, she was afraid she would vomit right there under the tree. What was he thinking? What was he going to suggest?
She couldn’t breathe as she watched him.
“Write her back,” he said. And with those words, he stood and strode off to the barn.
Nancy bit her lower lip. Write her back? He was saying that she could write Faith back? She blinked as the tears coursed down her cheeks. Abel was nearly to the barn. Nancy jumped to her feet.
“Abel!” she called.
He hesitated and turned back to look at her.
“Thank you.”
Chapter Five
Faith sat in the movie theater paying no attention to the film. Next to her, Seth laughed at the antics on the screen and munched away at the huge tub of popcorn. He nudged her and handed her the drink.
“Want some?” he whispered.
She took the drink and sipped, not even tasting the liquid. She stuck the cup into its holder on the arm of the chair and went back to her musings. Should she quit college? Her parents would have a fit. She’d only been in class two weeks. Quitting now would be a colossal failure.
She closed her eyes and imagined the bed and breakfast she’d stayed at in Landover Creek. Her room had been simple, but comfortable. In truth, she’d loved it there. She’d liked hanging her few clothes on the wall pegs. She’d enjoyed standing at the window, feeling the cool breeze on her face. And Prudence, the owner, had been kind.
Actually, Prudence was the first Amish person Faith had become acquainted with beyond, Hello, how are you? Not that she really knew Prudence. But still. It had been something. She remembered Katy in Hollybrook. She was a nice girl. Faith grinned as she remembered the look on Katy’s face when Katy had caught her and Seth kissing. Even when Faith had run into the big house to explain things, Katy had looked askance.
There was something to be said about that kind of innocence. Faith frowned. She sounded like an old lady with such thoughts.
The credits began to roll, and Seth stood up.
“Want the rest of this popcorn?” he asked. “Or should I toss it?”
Faith got up. “I don’t want it.”
Seth looked at her. “You okay?”
She put on a smile. “Of course.”
“You didn’t seem to like the movie much.”
“No. I did. It was funny.” In truth, she couldn’t have relayed a single plot point, and she hoped he wouldn’t ask.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
She followed him down the steps and out of the theater. He looked up and gazed at the stars. “Nice night.”
“We should have good weather for another month of so.”
“I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow. My nephews are coming over, and we have a tag football game planned.”
She nodded.
“Hey, you want to come over?” He grinned at her. “I could use you on my team.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.” Inside, she balked. Why in the world was she discussing weather and tag football when her heart was burning to be back in Indiana? What possible importance did tag football have?
Seth stopped walking. He faced her. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just tired, I guess. I haven’t even been home yet today.” Which was true. She’d gone directly from her late afternoon class to the movies.
“Have a lot of homework?”
“Enough.” She looped her arm through his. “How about you take me to my car, and I promise I’ll go home and tuck myself right into bed.”
“And your homework?”
“Ah. I’ll do it in the morning. My first class isn’t until eleven o’clock.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “All right, m’lady.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” she responded with a laugh.
Seth drove her to the college parking lot where she’d left her car. He gave her another kiss before she got out.
“See you tomorrow,” he called after her.
“Tomorrow,” she repeated with a wave. She got into her bright orange Volkswagen bug and drove home.
When she arrived, she was glad no one was about. Her sister Penny was probably still out with friends, and her parents were probably holed up in their room watching reruns of their favorite TV show. She walked quietly to her bedroom and closed the door behind her without a sound. She flipped on the light and saw an envelope on her bed.
Going to it, her eye caught the return address. Landover Creek? Her heart raced, and she fairly pounced on the envelope. She ripped it open and pulled out the letter. She flipped it over and there it was.
From your mother,
Nancy
Faith sank onto the mattress. Her breath caught in her throat and she gaped again at the signature.
Nancy
Her birth mother.
She’d written! Faith was stupefied, unable to move. This was it. The moment she had anticipated for years. Years and years. Her mother had written to her. A wave of dizziness spread through her. She gulped down the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat. Her heart continued to race.
Breathe, she told herself. Breathe.
Her hands were shaking. Calm down. Take a breath. Calm down. Faith scooted further back on her bed, suddenly feeling as if she might fall to the floor.
She flipped the letter back over to the beginning and began to read.
Dear Faith,
This is your mother. Mae has forwarded your letters to me. I’ve read them over and over, trying to picture you in my mind—what you’re doing. Who you’re with. Thank you for the photo. It is very dear to me and helps me envision you going about your day.
It feels right strange to be writing to you. I have thought about you every single day since September fifth all those years ago. Nineteen years now. I can hardly fathom that the wee girl babe I saw for mere seconds is now a grown-up young woman.
You must have so many questions.
When Mae told me you were there in Hollybrook, I thought I would faint dead away. But I couldn’t see you. I just couldn’t.
Faith’s eyes burned with tears. She tried to visualize how her mother had looked as she had written this letter. Had she cried? Was her expression soft? Loving?
Forgive me. You see, I am married. Not to your father. I am married now to a wonderful man named Abel.
Faith had a sudden thought. She picked up the envelope and turned it over and over, looking for, but not seeing a return address. She flipped the letter over again, and then she saw it…
You can write to me now. Not to Mae. Nancy Hershberger, 2113 Riverway Drive, Landover Creek, Indiana.
Her eyes flew back to the letter.
Things are different now. Abel knows. He has read your letters, too. He’s given me his blessing to write to you. I’m ever so grateful. I have five kinner. There’s Jeremy, he’s twelve years old. Then comes Debbie, nine; Jimmy, seven; Gracie, five; and the baby, nearly seven months now. She’s Miriam.
So, they are your brothers and sisters.
I know you have a sister named Penny. You told about her in one of your letters. I don’t understand what social media is, but it sounds like maybe your sister is a friendly girl. Your parents sound wonderful.
I’m glad, Faith. I’m thankful that you have had a good life. It eases my heart.
Nancy had then written her address and signed her letter, With love, Your mother, Nancy.
Faith lay back against her headboard and pressed the letter to her heart. Her chest felt as if it could burst open at any moment. She pulled on her collar, stretching her T-shirt. She closed her eyes and remembered when she’d seen her birth mother standing on the porch, calling Debbie inside. She’d been somewhat short, and her hair—what she could see of it beneath her kapp—had been light brown. From the distance, Faith hadn’t been able to make out her facial features well. At the time, Faith hadn’t known that it was her birth mother. To think she had been so close to her. A tear made its way down her cheek, and she opened her eyes.
With a start, Faith saw her mother standing in the now open door.
“Faith?”
Faith burst into tears, and Mrs. Baldwin rushed forward. She sat on Faith’s bed and took her into her arms. “Faith?” she said again.
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