Amish Faith: An Amish Christian Romance

by Sarah Price

  For a moment, Faith felt ashamed of herself. The look of adoration on Rebecca’s face made her realize how selfish she had been. Her friend, her lifelong, ‘bestest’ friend was overjoyed with happiness and all Faith could think about was herself…her own framework and expectations for life. One of the saving graces for their friendship had always been a respectful acceptance of their differences. When had she lost that acceptance for the Amish way of life and Rebecca’s upbringing?

  Turning to her friend, Faith smiled, a genuine smile as she said, “Oh Rebecca, I think this is just wonderful news!”

  It was only ten months later when Faith nervously stood at the door to Rebecca and Manuel’s farmhouse. She hesitated before opening it and entering. It had only been a few months back when Faith had been there for the first time. Rebecca and Manuel had just moved in, six months after their wedding. Prior to that, they had lived apart: Rebecca at her parents’ farm and Manuel at his parents’. Despite having bought the farm on Musser School Road, the previous owners hadn’t moved out yet so, during their first months of marriage, Rebecca and Manuel had lived apart.

  Faith hadn’t pretended to understand that arrangement but she knew from experience that most newly married Amish couples did not live together. Instead, they visited each other on the weekends, often traveling around the countryside to stay with relatives or share the evening meal with friends. Eventually, usually around springtime, the couple would settle into their first home to begin a life together as a married couple. In the Petersheim’s case, Manuel had been fortunate enough to be in a financial position to buy an actual farm. A forever home. Given that he was older, he had saved up enough money since he had turned sixteen in order to purchase the farm at a public auction.

  She didn’t want to go into the house. She knew exactly what she would see. Her friend, her oldest and “bestest” friend, would have become a true Amish woman. Her dress would be plain, her head covering freshly starched and perched on top of her head, held in place by a single straight pin through the fabric, and she would have a baby held snuggly buggly in her arms.

  A baby!

  Rebecca had just turned twenty. Already she was a mother.

  And Faith knew that her friend would be happy.

  “Faith!”

  She looked up in the direction of the voice that called out her name from the barn. It was Manuel. He was smiling, the hint of his new beard shadowing his jawbone. His tattered straw was casting a shadow over his face but she could certainly see his smile: Broad, white, and full of joy.

  She still felt shy around him. After all of these years, she remembered her near-death experience and waking in his arms, his mouth pressed against hers as his worried eyes examined her face for some sign of life. It hadn’t been until a few weeks after that incident that she had learned that Manuel had been driving his buggy down the road and heard Rebecca’s scream. The other children had noticed Faith in the water, dragged her to the edge of the pond, luckily the closest point to the road. Seeing the children gathered around the limp body of the Englischer girl, Manuel had quickly assessed what happened, stopped his buggy, and raced across the small swath of grass toward the pond to administer CPR. Where he had learned it, Faith never actually found out. But the fact that his mouth had been pressed against hers, breathing life into her body, saving her soul from floating away forever, had always intimidated her.

  “Hello Manny,” she said.

  He grinned at the nickname that Faith had always used when addressing him, despite Rebecca’s insistence that he be called Manuel. “Rebecca will be right pleased to see you! You always have a way of making her shine.”

  Faith flushed at the compliment.

  He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and rocked on his heels, grinning at her. “You here to see the baby, then?”

  She nodded.

  “She’s a real sweet little thing,” he affirmed as he bounded up the porch steps and opened the door for her. “And Rebecca is just a most wunderbaar gut mamm!”

  No doubt, thought Faith. Rebecca always had a way of doing everything perfectly.

  Inside the house, it took a moment for Faith to collect her bearings. The kitchen was dark, the plain green shades having been pulled down to block the hot summer sun. As her eyes adjusted, Faith looked toward the sofa at the back of the kitchen, near the wall that was adjacent to the stairwell. There sat Rebecca, a smile on her face and, as Faith had suspected, a small bundle wrapped in a thin blanket cuddled in her arms.

  Faith approached her, not certain of how to react to her friend’s in this new role as a mother. At nineteen, Faith barely felt as if she were an adult. To think that her friend was already a wife and now a mother simply left her speechless. It was beyond her imagination to think of these responsibilities at such a young age, even if Rebecca was several months her elder.

  “I’ve come to meet the newest Petersheim,” she finally said as she walked toward the sofa. “Let me meet baby Anna!”

  Rebecca gestured for Faith to sit next to her on the sofa, shifting slightly so that there was enough room for her friend. “I’m ever so glad you came, Faith! Come meet my dochder,” she prompted, her voice soft and musical as she moved the baby in her arms so that Faith could see her in the dim light.

  And there she was. The perfect little replica of Rebecca, wrapped in a soft yellow cloth. Her eyes were shut but Faith could see that the baby looked exactly like her mother, with a soft button nose, high little forehead, and pursed, determined lips. The baby was simply gorgeous and, at once, Faith understood. She understood everything about her friend and the divide that had grown between them.

  While Faith was pursuing her education in the hopes of some day becoming a teacher, Rebecca was pursuing her own passion: being a true and devout Amish woman. That meant being a wife, a mother, and a devout member of the church community.

  With one look at the sweet, angelic face of baby Anna in Rebecca’s arms, Faith understood for the very first time that the worldly path was not necessarily the better path. What was important in the world was the expression on Rebecca’s face as she stared down in complete amazement and adoration at the sleeping infant in her arms.

  Faith wished that she could have that same kind of peace and purpose. Her heart suddenly sang with delight for her friend, even though it tugged at her own consciousness. Faith realized that she would probably never have what Rebecca already had and the thought made her immensely sad. How unfortunate, she thought, that the Englische world doesn’t understand what is truly important!

  “Oh, Rebecca,” Faith gasped, reaching out to hold the baby. “She’s simply beautiful.” And she meant it.

  By the time she was twenty-five, Faith had not only graduated from college but landed a teaching position at a nearby Mennonite school. She was happy to live with her parents, thankful that she didn’t have to pay rent or share her life with roommates. She much preferred waking up to the sound of cows mulling about, waiting for the morning milking. Her dad was always thankful on those days when Faith woke early in order to assist him. There was nothing she loved more than welcoming the day, the fresh air, clean and brisk, and the light of dawn breaking from dark blue to light grey to pale yellow as the sun crested over the hill of the back paddock.

  It had been eight years since Rebecca had married Manuel Petersheim. Since that time, she had welcome five babies into the world: three daughters and two sons. Faith and Rebecca didn’t get to see each other very much. During the week, Faith was busy at work, helping the children after school and her father in the evenings. On the weekends, Faith was often occupied grading papers while Rebecca had her hands full with so many kinner under the age of ten to tend to.

  The last time Faith had gone visiting, she was surprised to see that the house was not in its usual pristine shape. There were toys scattered on the floor, dirty dishes on the counter, and a pile of laundry that needed to be washed. While Anna, at seven years old, tried to help her mamm, it was too much for one smal
l child to undertake.

  “Rebecca,” Faith had whispered when the children were out of range to overhear. “Is everything alright?”

  She nodded her head but there were tears in her eyes. Faith knew immediately that her friend was not telling her the truth.

  “What’s wrong, Rebecca?”

  Rebecca glanced over at the children, playing in the sunroom with some wooden toys. A tear fell from her eye and she looked back at her friend. “I had another miscarriage last week,” she admitted. “I haven’t told Manuel.”

  Faith gasped. Over the years, she had come to respect the relationship between Manuel and Rebecca, loving the easy-going nature of their relationship. If nothing else, they had become a true couple, reading each other’s minds, sharing private jokes, and always being there for each other. Faith couldn’t imagine why Rebecca would keep something so important from her husband. “Why ever not?” she demanded.

  With a gentle shrug, Rebecca tried to dismiss the subject. “He has enough to worry about. He’s so busy on the farm and the boys aren’t old enough to really help yet. Just a few more years and life will be so much easier for him. I didn’t want to burden him,” she explained.

  Burden him? Faith couldn’t believe that she was hearing these words from her friend’s mouth. Manuel would be horrified to know that Rebecca kept such an important secret from him. He would have wanted to be there for her, to help her deal with both the physical stress and the emotional loss. Certainly he would have helped her with the children so that she could have recovered, if such a thing was possible for Rebecca. The loss of a child, even an unborn one, was certainly devastating to someone who doted on all of her children.

  “He’d want to know, Rebecca,” Faith coaxed gently. “He needs to know.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “And let him know that I can’t have anymore children?” The tone of her voice was shockingly depressing. Faith had never heard her sound so down on herself. Not Rebecca. Strong Rebecca. “Promise me something,” Rebecca said suddenly, reaching her hand out to grab Faith’s.

  “Anything,” Faith whispered, startled by the gesture.

  “If anything ever happens to me,” Rebecca started and then paused. She glanced over at the children. “Promise me that you’ll be here for them.”

  “Rebecca!”

  “And for Manuel.”

  “Stop it!” Faith said, snatching her hand away. “Don’t talk like that.”

  Sighing, Rebecca raised her hand to rub her eyes. She was tired and needed to recover, that much Faith could see. But the recovery was more than physical. It was emotional as well. “You know me better than anyone, Faith,” Rebecca went on. “I need to know that you would be a part of their lives.”

  “I’m going to get Manuel,” Faith said. “You’re talking nonsense!”

  “Nee!” She shook her head adamantly, determined to get an answer to her request. “Just promise me and then we can have a nice visit, ja?”

  Faith took a deep breath. She could see the sorrow in her friend’s eyes and the longing to hear those words, words that would commit Faith because her word was her bond. But Faith also knew that those words would help her friend heal. Reaching out to hold Rebecca’s hand, she stared at her friend and smiled, a sorrowful smile, as she nodded. “I would never abandon your family, Rebecca. You know that.”

  “So you promise?”

  Slowly, the words formed on Faith’s lips. “Of course I promise. How could I not?” In a rare moment of emotional relief, Rebecca let Faith embrace her, a friendly embrace that signed their verbal contract, a contract Faith never thought she would have to fulfill, some day.

  Faith was twenty-nine when she got the news. She had been in her classroom, cleaning up from the day’s lessons when her cell phone rang. It was unusual for anyone to call her at this time for they all knew that she would still be in the classroom. Frowning, she crossed the room and opened the desk drawer where she kept her mobile phone. She dug around until she found it, the light on it glowing blue with the number for her home displaying.

  “Hello Mom,” she said as she answered, worried. Her mother never called her on the phone and in the middle of the day.

  Faith had been teaching for almost seven years, loving each and every moment of it. She taught the fourth graders, and had come to think of all of them as her own children. She loved their wide-eyed innocence, their different and very individual journeys into the world of reading and writing. Some were very advanced while others lagged behind. The challenges motivated Faith and she made certain to tailor each lesson to both layers of learners, as well as those in-between.

  Her dedication to her students had hindered her own personal relationships. She hadn’t dated very much over the years. Oh, a dinner here and a movie there. But she wasn’t interested in the men that seemed to be attracted to her. For Faith, there was something about them that turned her away. They were shallow and materialistic, focusing too much on the future and not on the here and now. They treated her choice of a career as quaint, as though she was biding time until she would get married and have babies of her own. Indeed, it never failed to turn her off from any potentially serious relationship.

  She knew that her parents appreciated the fact that she still lived at home. She was able to assist them with the chores around the farm both before and after her own work. As her father aged, he had taken to hiring several local Amish boys to work the fields with him and assist in milking the cows in the morning. But every evening, Faith made certain that she was there, working alongside her father. She had come to believe that it kept her grounded in what was really important.

  Now, as she held the phone to her ear, she was worried indeed. Knowing that Faith would soon be on her way home, what could possibly have happened that her mother would call her at this hour? Immediately, she feared the worst: her father, an accident, a heart attack? In that split second of terror, she imagined the future without her father. What would happen to the farm? What would happen to her mother? How would they survive?

  “You need to come home now,” her mother said, her voice flat and emotionless. “Something’s happened.”

  Faith’s heart began to pound inside of her chest. She knew. Just as sure as the sun rose every morning, she knew that her father had a heart attack. She knew that he had pushed himself to the limit. She just prayed that someone had found him quick enough to get him to the hospital. Faith squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for the news. “Where is he? Is he going to make it?”

  Silence.

  “Mother?”

  “Who?” her mother asked, her tone sharp and edgy. “Is who going to make it?”

  “Father!” Faith demanded, suddenly angry at her mother for not just spitting out the news and simply telling her whatever was wrong.

  Another hesitation. “It’s not your father, Faith,” her mother finally said. “It’s Rebecca.”

  Faith didn’t stop at her parents’ farm. Instead, she drove as fast as she could down the back roads to the Petersheim farm. She cursed under her breath when she had to slow down before passing a few horse and buggies. Move, move, move, she willed them, silently begging them to move to the side of the road so that she could safely pass and hurry to her friend’s side.

  There were several buggies in the Petersheim’s driveway. That was never a good sign, Faith told herself angrily. Not on a Wednesday. She quickly put her car in park and turned off the ignition before she stumbled out of the car door and raced toward the house.

  How had this happened, she asked herself. Why hadn’t she stopped trying when the doctor told her? Three miscarriages and one stillborn were enough, the doctor had said. Each loss made Rebecca withdraw more and more until there was just a shell of a woman in there, the hint of the friend that had stubbornly refused to inform that man at the horse auction that he had toilet paper stuck on the back of his pants. In fact, Faith hadn’t seen her for almost six months. Their lives had just drifted apart, Rebecca with raising her family an
d helping Manuel on the farm and Faith raising her own children: her students.

  The room was filled with people, many of whom she had never met before. But they were all Amish. Mostly men although there were a few women, standing near the counter, their ashen faces staring at nothing as if in shock. Only one person looked up at Faith when she flew into the room: Manuel. His eyes were wide and frightened. The color was drained from his face. But when he saw Faith, he caught his breath, as if relieved.

  “Faith!”

  As if prompted, the other men turned in unison to look at her. They were older men, all wearing black suits and black hats. Their faces were void of emotion, stern expressions greeting her. As soon as they focused on her, they immediately turned away. She was, after all, an Englischer; an outsider. But Manuel ignored their coldness and crossed the room to greet Faith. He placed his hand on her arm and guided her toward a door in the back of the room.

  “You must go speak to Rebecca,” he said softly. “You must speak some sense into her.”

  “I…I don’t understand,” Faith whispered, glancing over his shoulder at the frowns on the faces of the other people in the room.

  “She won’t go to the hospital!”

  That was something Faith couldn’t understand. “Why ever not?”

  Manuel shook his head, tears in his eyes. “Says it’s God’s will and she won’t lose another baby.” He opened the door and pleaded with her. “You need to convince her to go, Faith. You are the only one who can do it!” Without another word, he gently pushed Faith into the room and shut the door behind her.

  The room was dark but lit up by the glow of several kerosene lanterns. It was the master bedroom that was located on the first floor. Faith’s gaze rested on the sweaty, pale figure lying in the middle of the full bed: Rebecca. On either side of her were two Amish women, one that Faith had seen before and thought she might be Manuel’s younger sister. The other was Rebecca’s mother, her face pale and tears in her eyes. Faith nodded to both of them as she hurried to her friend’s side.