“You must be right sick of me,” Nancy muttered, ashamed at her outburst.
He squeezed her hands. “I’m not sick of you.”
She looked at him through her tears. “But why can’t I just be happy she’s here? Why can’t I let all the past go?”
Abel sighed. He got up and sat beside her. “Because it was huge. Because it marked you. Because you lost your baby.”
Nancy began to weep again. “She wasn’t stolen from me,” she said, her voice catching. “That was unfair. Mamm gave her away. I gave her away.” At her last admission, Nancy cried in earnest. In truth, her mother hadn’t held a knife to her throat and forced her to give Faith away. Nancy had acquiesced. She had obeyed.
But had she a choice?
Nancy pulled one of her hands from Abel’s and wiped her tears. No. Not really.
So why did she blame herself? For all these years, she had been angry at her mother and her father. But now, she saw it for what it was.
She had been angry at herself. She screwed up her eyes and collapsed against Abel’s shoulder, stifling a wail. “I will never forgive myself,” she eked out. “Never.”
Abel’s arms came around her, and he held her tightly while she sobbed into his neck. Nancy clung to him. She cried for that innocent little baby.
And she cried for herself. A young teenage girl, so lost, so desperate, so confused. In her mind, she saw herself. Her beautiful tormented self who had made a mistake that would change everything about her life from that moment on. Nancy wanted to gather that teenage girl in her arms. She wanted to love her, hold her, and reassure her. Make her safe.
Nancy cried for the girl she had been, God’s child.
“Get it out,” Abel whispered into her ear. “Get it all out.”
Nancy’s breath came in hiccups and gasps. She went limp in Abel’s arms. Gently, he laid her on the bed. Quietly, he lay beside her, filling each of her curves with himself. Spent, she closed her eyes as her breathing slowed and settled.
Outside, a cricket chirped. And then another. Nancy’s eyes fluttered open. The light from the lamp flickered and danced on the walls. Nancy followed the moving shadows as the breeze came in through the window.
A peace filled the room. Nancy felt it and was afraid to move for fear of disturbing it. Abel shifted against her side, and she felt his warmth. She looked at his profile and saw the fine shape of his nose and the strong chiseling of his cheekbones as they met the curl of his beard. He was a fine man. A good man.
Her man.
He’d stood by her through this tidal wave of emotion and change and revelation. He’d put aside his own suffering, his own anguish, to stand with her. He’d welcomed Faith into their home. No, it hadn’t all been smooth and easy. He’d balked more than once. But there he was, lying with her. Loving her.
“Abel?”
“Jah.”
“I love you.”
He opened his eyes and turned to her. “And I love you.”
She took a daring, courageous breath. “Maybe, I can forgive myself.” A trickle of hope struggled to take hold. Maybe, she could.
“Faith has forgiven you,” he said. “God has forgiven you. So, jah. You can forgive yourself.”
“Do you think Faith’s forgiven me? Really?”
“Haven’t you seen the way she looks at you?”
“How? How does she look at me?”
“With complete love.”
Nancy’s breath caught in her throat. And then it escaped her lips in a joyous laugh.
Chapter Seven
Faith walked into the kitchen the next morning eager to help with breakfast. Nancy was beating eggs in a large glass bowl. When Faith entered, she looked up.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning,” Faith answered. She grabbed seven glasses from the cupboard, lining them on the counter to fill with milk.
“I would like you to do something for me,” Nancy said. Faith saw the way her hands trembled over the bowl.
“Of course,” Faith agreed quickly, wondering what she wanted. Nancy hadn’t really asked anything of her since she’d come. She saw this as definite progress into becoming one of the family.
“Will you invite your parents here? And your sister?”
Faith gaped at her. “What?”
“Abel and I spoke last night. We thought it would be gut for us to meet each other.”
“Here? You want them to come here?”
“Jah. And the boy who is courting you, too.”
“Seth? You want to meet Seth?” Faith’s mind scrambled to make sense of the request.
“I want to thank your parents.”
Somehow, hearing Nancy refer to her folks as her parents bothered Faith. Wasn’t Nancy her parent? Did this mean that Nancy didn’t consider herself her parent?
No, no, that wasn’t right. Nancy was her birth mother. But that term sounded cold and distant.
“Faith?”
Faith flinched. “Yes. Yes. Um, I guess I could call them.”
Nancy set her whisk aside and stepped to Faith. She put her hand on Faith’s arm. “I’m sure they’re wondering how you’re doing.”
“Yes, but I’ve been calling them.” She flushed at her own exaggeration. “Well, now and then.”
“I’m sure they’re worried. I would be.”
Faith swallowed hard. It was true. They were worried. Faith stared at Nancy, trying to read more into her words. She didn’t understand why Nancy wanted to meet them all of a sudden. Faith had thought that Nancy wanted her to become Amish. Well, Nancy hadn’t said it outright, but Faith knew she wanted it.
But now? With this request? If Nancy did want her to become Amish, asking her past life to visit didn’t make sense.
“Nancy?”
Nancy blinked. “Jah?”
Faith realized that she hadn’t called her by name much. If at all. Faith’s brow furrowed. Had she called her anything since she’d come? She couldn’t remember. But listening to herself call Nancy by her given name seemed to widen the gap between them.
Nancy’s nostrils flared slightly, and Faith had the oddest sensation that Nancy knew exactly what she was thinking.
“It’s all right,” Nancy whispered.
Faith’s eyes filled with tears. So Nancy had known her thoughts.
“What do you want?” Nancy continued, her voice still soft.
“Why?” Faith’s hands clenched at her sides. “Why do you want them to come?”
For a moment, Nancy didn’t answer. She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, they were moist. “I owe your parents a huge debt of gratitude. I wanted to tell them in person.”
Faith nodded slowly. “But, what if…” Faith was afraid to say the words. What if Nancy laughed at what she was going to say?
Nancy took a step toward her. “What…?” Her face was eager, her eyes intent on hers.
“What if I want to become Amish?” There. She’d said it.
Nancy clutched her hands in front of her chest. “Really?” she cried. “Really? That’s a possibility?”
Faith stepped to her, and they fell into each other’s arms. Both of them were crying. Faith held on as if her life depended on it.
“Mamm?” Debbie asked from the doorway. “You all right?”
Nancy peered over Faith’s shoulder. “Jah, child. I’m all right.”
Faith let go of Nancy and stepped back. She wiped the tears from her face. Nancy was looking at her with such love that her chest hurt with it.
“Abel told me I was crazy. But, here you are, mentioning it to me. I didn’t say anything to you, did I? I haven’t pressured you in any way?” Nancy’s words came fast.
“No. You haven’t pressured me.”
“But you think…” Nancy gulped. “You think … it is a possibility? That you might really want to?”
Now that Faith had said the words, now that she’d brought it up, Faith thought she would feel relieved. Free. Happy. But instead,
she felt a different kind of weight. A gentle pushing down of her shoulders, a tightness in her throat.
It made no sense.
But still, she nodded at Nancy.
Nancy let out her breath in a whoosh and then gave Faith the biggest smile she had ever seen on her birth mother’s face. It was glorious. All-encompassing. Full of light.
“Mamm?” Debbie said again.
“Ach, Debbie,” Nancy said, wiping her hands down her apron. “Here I am dawdling and grinning like a stuffed pig. Let’s get breakfast on the table, shall we?”
And she bustled to pour the eggs into the hot frying pan. They sizzled and popped and a cloud of steam rose to the ceiling.
Faith called her parents. Then she called Seth. All of them were overjoyed to come that weekend. Faith felt like she should invite Cassie, too. After all, if the whole gang was there… She grimaced at herself. She was being sarcastic now. She couldn’t quite figure out why, but she wasn’t pleased to have them come. Any of them. It was almost as if she was being stingy with the Hershbergers. Like she didn’t want to share them.
Which was absurd.
Nancy was overjoyed with the prospect and immediately began planning and baking. When Esther got wind of the invitation, she was not happy.
“Why in the world did you ask them to come?” she snapped at Nancy.
Faith was just outside the kitchen door, and she paused, listening.
“They raised my daughter, Mamm. The least I can do is thank them in person.”
“They got Faith, didn’t they? Isn’t that thanks enough.”
In the ensuing silence, Faith felt the tension emanate from the room. Then came Nancy’s voice again, “They had Faith because you gave her to them.”
“Not again, daughter,” came Esther’s voice, sharp and pointed. “Not again. I ain’t listening to your blame one more time. I’m sick unto death of it.”
There was a shuffling noise.
“You’re right, Mamm. I’m sorry.”
Nancy’s voice did indeed sound penitent.
Esther snorted and then came the clatter of dishes being banged around.
“You can join us if you’d like.”
Another silence. Faith held her breath. She wasn’t sure she wanted her grandmother to come. It was going to be tense enough as it was.
“Jah. Jah. I would like that.”
Faith let out her breath. She would have to brace herself well for the event. She backed up and slipped from the house through the front door. She didn’t want either Nancy or Esther to know she’d overheard them. She ran down the drive and decided it was a good time to take a walk. The air in the house was too thick. Too much emotion. Too much everything.
She strode down the main rode, her long slender legs easily covering a good distance quickly. She glanced at the other Amish homes along the road. They weren’t close since each home boasted quite a bit of land.
She’d just rounded a bend when she spotted someone ahead of her. Her breath hitched in her throat. It was Peter Troyer. Without thinking, she stopped short and stared at him. He neared her, and she could see he was laughing.
“I see I’ve had an effect on you,” he said. “Stopped you in your tracks.”
Despite herself, she smiled. “I guess so,” she said.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
“Hmm. There’s a message there, I’m thinking.”
She laughed softly. She supposed he was right. Where was she going, anyway? She’d quit school. She’d dropped everything to come stay with her birth mother. She was toying with the idea of changing her religion. Changing her home. Changing her life. Where was she going?
“In truth, I have no idea. None at all.” She smiled, but her heart squeezed within her. She didn’t like not knowing. In a strange way, it hurt.
“Everyone here knows where they’re going. It ain’t ever a question.”
She stared at him.
“I’m farming, just like my dat before me, and his dat before him. No mystery. No wondering.” He said it with a tinge of pride. “No confusion,” he concluded.
His words didn’t sit right with Faith. She was drawn to him, a fact that disturbed her greatly. He was handsome and winsome. His smile was beyond gorgeous. His shoulders were broad for someone so slender. But what he had just said… No mystery?
Nothing surprising or serendipitous?
She wasn’t so foolish as to think an Amish person never faced any confusion or difficulty or tension with decisions. Nobody escaped that. But still.
The array of choices seemed much diminished. Would she truly like that? To have her whole life scripted out in front of her for years and years…
Peter stepped closer. “I see your brain a-whirling. What’s got you to thinking so hard?”
“What if you didn’t want to be a farmer?” she asked. “What if you wanted to be a doctor or a teacher or a pharmacist or a forest ranger?”
His eyebrows rose. “What?”
“What if you didn’t like farming? What then?” she rushed on. “What if in your heart of hearts, you wanted to be a musician or something?”
His forehead creased. “But I like farming.”
She gazed at him. “But what if you didn’t?”
“But I do.” He took off his straw hat and ran his hand through his longish brown hair. Then he set the hat back on his head. “Are you trying to spread discontent?”
Trying to spread discontent? She gaped at him. Of course, she wasn’t. What a thing to say.
“No.” She blinked. “No. I’m not.”
He chuckled. “Course you’re not. Don’t rightly know why I said that.”
She bit the inside of her lip and turned to go.
“I understand what you’re saying,” he said, stopping her from leaving. “You Englisch have a million choices. It makes my head spin. I’m content with fewer.” His eyes penetrated hers. “We Amish have more than one choice. Not all of us are farmers. Not by a long shot. But I am, and I’m content with it.”
She squirmed under his gaze. How in the world had she gotten into this conversation? She wanted out. She took a step back, ready to flee.
“Faith?” He said her name softly. “What’s ailing you?”
She stood there, staring at him, feeling like a fool. What was ailing her indeed? She glanced around at the fields pulsing with life and harvest. The clear blue skies above stretched for miles. The sun was warm on her head.
The world was vast, expansive, and vibrating with possibility.
“I was just thinking about something. A possible change,” she blurted, then clapped her hand over her mouth, grateful she’d stopped short of telling him she was thinking of becoming Amish.
She’d clearly intrigued him. His lips parted, and he seemed to be searching for words.
“Nancy’s my mother. I guess you already know that.”
“Jah, I know that.” He didn’t take his eyes from hers. “So, a change, huh?”
Had he guessed the change she was talking about?
She blew out her breath. A heaviness pressed down on her shoulders. “Maybe.”
He nodded slowly, still studying her. “I see.”
“Just stupid ideas,” she rushed to say.
“Nee. Not stupid. If your heart and soul want the change.”
Faith knew that a good chunk of her heart wanted to be Amish. But her soul? And her mind? She wasn’t so sure.
“I should head back,” she said.
“Gut talking to you.” He nodded and passed her by, his stride long and sure.
She turned to follow the same direction. He hadn’t suggested they walk together. Which was just as well.
She would have said no.
Chapter Eight
Faith sat perched on a front porch rocker, too nervous to read. Too nervous to drink her glass of lemonade. Too nervous do anything but wait. She glanced at her watch. Any minute now. Any minute.
Debbie came outside, banging
the screen door behind her. “Faith? What is she like?”
“She?”
“Your other sister? Is she nice?”
“Penny?” Faith reached out and grabbed Debbie’s hand. “She’s real nice. She’s excited to meet you.”
“But she ain’t my sister, is she?”
“No.”
“Because we don’t share any blood, right?”
The words sounded quite gruesome coming from the innocent child standing before her. “No. No blood. But you want to know something?”
Debbie nodded.
“Penny and I don’t share any blood, either.”
Debbie’s mouth gaped open. “Then how is she your sister?”
My mom and dad adopted her like they adopted me. So in the eyes of the law, we’re just as much sisters as anyone can be.”
“So, could she be my sister? In the eyes of the law?” Debbie’s expression was hopeful.
Faith gave her a gentle smile. “I’m thinking that we don’t need the eyes of the law. How about you just ask her to be your sister when she comes?”
“Really? I can do that?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Look!” Debbie cried, pointing. “A car is coming! It’s turning into our drive. Is that them?” She was fairly jumping with excitement.
Faith stood, her heart pounding wildly. “That’s them.”
The tan sedan pulled up next to Faith’s Volkswagen. Still gripping Debbie’s hand, Faith went down the steps and out to meet her family. Seth was with them. He and Penny were climbing out of opposite sides of the back seat. Seth’s eyes lit up when he saw her. Faith’s heart did a flip. She was glad he was there. Happier than she’d thought she’d be. Her mother came toward her.
“Faith,” she said, her tone both relieved and guarded.
“Hi, Mom,” Faith answered. She let go of Debbie and stepped into her mother’s embrace. Mrs. Baldwin held on tightly, but let go before it became prolonged.
“Hi, Dad,” Faith said, looking over her mom’s shoulder at him. She went to him and gave him a hug.
“You must be Debbie,” Mrs. Baldwin said, bending slightly to look the girl in the eye. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
“Hello,” Debbie said, suddenly turning shy.
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