Amish Faith: An Amish Christian Romance

by Sarah Price

  “What are you doing, Rebecca? You have everyone quite worried!” Faith tried to sound nonchalant and in control although inside she felt nothing of the sort.

  Rebecca forced a weak smile. Her lips were chapped and dry. She reached out a shaky hand for Faith to hold. “You came!”

  “Of course I came, goose,” Faith said, smiling back at her friend. “Now, why won’t you go to the hospital?”

  Rebecca shut her eyes. “I want to deliver this baby at home.”

  Rebecca’s mother shook her head. “Stubborn girl! She’ll die delivering this baby!” The other woman met Faith’s gaze and nodded her head, affirming what was said.

  Faith knelt down and leaned close to Rebecca. “You have to go to the hospital, Rebecca. You can’t die. You have five other children and a husband who need you.” She paused before adding, “I need you.”

  “Nee,” Rebecca said. For a moment, she cringed, her eyes squeezing shut and she lifted herself off the bed. A contraction. When the pain subsided, she gasped for air and managed to whisper, “This baby will live.”

  “Even if it means you won’t?” Faith stared at her friend, both admiring and despising her fierce determination.

  Rebecca shut her eyes and sank back down into the pillow. She took a few breaths before she finally opened her eyes and looked at Faith, trying to focus on her friend’s face. “You…” She paused, not finishing her thought.

  “Me what?”

  Rebecca clutched Faith’s hand, squeezing it as another wave of pain caused her to tighten her body and fight the urge to scream. Out of the corner of her eyes, Faith could see Rebecca’s mamm cringe and turn away, fighting her own emotion at the thought of losing her dear dochder. “You…” Rebecca gasped. “You…don’t forget your promise, Faith.” She struggled as a contraction started. “You take care of my children and…you…help…Manny…” she managed to say.

  And then she let out a loud cry, her body rising once again on the bed as she pushed, crushing Faith’s hand in the process. The other Amish woman shook her head and moved to the foot of the bed, pushing sheets back and speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch, words that Faith couldn’t understand but that caused Rebecca’s mamm to cry and turn away.

  Within minutes, the baby cried out, a small, bloody baby with a crooked and slightly underdeveloped leg. Despite the deformity, the baby seemed healthy, crying as the midwife quickly wrapped it into a warm blanket and handed it to Faith. The baby forgotten, the midwife turned her attention back to Rebecca, doing what she could to stop the flow of blood that was now coming out of the limp body on the bed. Faith watched, dumbfounded, holding the crying infant as she watched the life seep away from the body of her oldest and “bestest” friend. Rebecca never regained consciousness, never held her baby, and never knew that she had just given birth to her sixth child…a little girl who would never walk, never run, never swim in a pond, and never know the love of her mother or understand the sacrifice Rebecca had just made, trading her own life for this of the little newborn.

  Chapter Two

  Faith was still holding the baby when the bishop arrived, removing his hat upon entering the kitchen. Manuel was standing in the kitchen, his face drawn and pale, never once even looking at the newborn baby that had just cost him a wife. Instead, he stared at the floor, a look of complete disbelief in his eyes. No one spoke. The room had been silent for almost twenty minutes, the only noise coming from the bundle in Faith’s arms…soft, mewing sounds from the baby girl.

  It had been the midwife who had finally lifted up her eyes and, meeting Faith’s pleading stare, shaking her head in disbelief before she backed away from the bed. Rebecca’s mamm had let out a loud wail, almost falling to her knees against the bedframe but the midwife had caught her and sat her on the chair next to the nightstand.

  “Why? Why?” Rebecca’s mother had yelled, her voice choked with sorrow and pain.

  Faith tore her eyes from Rebecca’s mamm and stared back at the lifeless body of her friend. The color was gone from Rebecca’s cheeks. So was the pain that had accompanied her out of this world. Instead, the look on her departed friend’s face was one of peace and relief. Faith took a deep breath, forcing herself not to cry. How could she when Rebecca had done exactly what she wanted? She had given her life for her child, for this precious bundle that she now held in her arms. The alternative had been to take the child but spare the mother and Rebecca would never have been able to live with herself after making such a choice.

  The door had opened and, without a word, Manuel walked in. No one had needed to tell him what had happened. He had known from the cry of grief that escaped his mother-in-law’s lips. Rebecca had died. She walked with the Lord. But that was not enough comfort for a man left a widower at thirty-eight with six children, one a newborn with a physical deformity. One look at his face told Faith all that she needed to know. Manuel Petersheim would much rather have his wife alongside him, to help with the farm work, to raise their children, and to grow old together than to have her walk with the Lord.

  Where is that strong Amish faith now, Faith had asked herself, too aware of the bitterness in her thought.

  “It’s a girl,” she had managed to whisper, not knowing what else to say.

  Manuel had barely acknowledged what Faith had said. Instead, he had stared at the body of his wife. His eyes took in the blood stained sheets, which, despite her best efforts, the mid-wife hadn’t been able to completely cover. He took two steps toward the bed, pausing to rest his hand on the shoulder of Rebecca’s mamm. In response, she had lifted her own hand to cover his, the only comfort either one would most likely receive over the next few days.

  “Best be fetching the bishop,” Manuel had mumbled, looking at the mid-wife as he assigned her the task of telling the others that were crowded in the kitchen. Then, he had moved to the side of the bed and sat down, the movement gentle and careful, as if not to awaken Rebecca. For the next fifteen minutes, he had sat with his wife, holding her hand and staring into her face.

  Faith had stood there, uncertain of what to do as she had watched Rebecca’s mamm leave the room and slowly walk into the kitchen. She headed over to where the clock was on the mantel by the fireplace. Without a word, she had reached up and stopped the clock. It was frozen at 4:49pm. When the clock had stopped ticking, the other women in the kitchen had begun to quietly cry. The men had removed their hats and stood there, silent as they all bowed their heads in prayer.

  Now, as the bishop had finally arrived, everyone was standing in the kitchen, waiting for direction from their leader. Faith stood in the shadows, feeling out of place in the gathering of men dressed in black and women in simple, plain dresses. Her own dress, a soft blue sleeveless dress with a small floral pattern, stuck out among the Amish. It screamed outsider…Englischer…and made Faith feel even more uncomfortable.

  She glanced around the room, noticing that Manuel was still standing at the back of the kitchen, alone and staring at the floor with a despondent look upon his ashen face. Indeed, his eyes were blank, large and distant. For a moment, Faith watched him, concerned about his reaction and how he would handle this unexpected change in his life. How would he manage without Rebecca? The thought seemed so surreal and foreign to Faith that she found herself feeling as if everything was just a bad dream.

  The whimpering noise from the bundle in her arms told Faith that, indeed, this was not a bad dream, not just a nightmare. No, Rebecca had died and here she was, standing in the kitchen of the Petersheim residence, holding a newborn baby. She wondered why no one had tended to the baby, yet. She had no idea about what to do with a newborn infant. Her experience with babies was limited. In fact, she had never even babysat before and the only time she had held a baby was when she had visited Rebecca, when each one of her friend’s children had been born. Now, she was holding a newborn baby, one that hadn’t even been properly cleaned yet, as everyone was still in shock that their vivacious, loving, energetic Rebecca had just passed away. Died. Gone
.

  “Let us pray,” the bishop finally said. As if on command, everyone dropped to their knees and leaned against a chair or sofa, their hands cupped together and pressed against their foreheads in fervent, silent prayer. Faith stood there, watching and wishing that someone would tell her what to do. Of all the experiences Rebecca had shared with her, death had not been one of them.

  Faith stared around the room, taking in the image of fifteen people, kneeling on the floor of Rebecca’s kitchen, their heads bent respectfully in prayer while she stood there, feeling her own sense of shock for having witnessed the birth of a new life at the same time as the life of another human being had been swept away.

  “Please,” Faith heard herself utter when the people finally stood up. Her voice sounded strained and distant. She barely recognized it herself. “Please, could someone help me with this baby?”

  One of the other women caught her breath and hurried over to Faith’s side. Quietly, the woman guided Faith and the bundle in her arms to another room, away from the mourners and away from Rebecca’s body. With expert hands, the woman took the baby from Faith and gently unswaddled it. For a moment, she seemed to pause as she took in the sight of the deformed leg but, almost as quickly, she regained her composure and nodded her head.

  “We’ll be needing some warm water, then,” she instructed Faith. “And a clean cloth, ja? You know where Rebecca keeps them?”

  Present tense. As if Rebecca had just gone out to the store.

  Faith shook her head. The woman, who Faith now recognized as Rebecca’s sister-in-law, Lydia, clicked her tongue and, tucking the blanket back around the infant, motioned for Faith to watch. Then, without another word, Lydia disappeared into the large washroom that was on the other side of the kitchen to fetch the items that she needed.

  The baby mewed softly in Faith’s arms, almost like a small kitten. Her pouty mouth opened slightly and a tiny pink tongue poked out. Tears came to Faith’s eyes and she fought the urge to cry, to really let the tears fall down her cheeks and succumb to the grief she felt. She felt her heart swell with love for the baby while resenting it at the same time. The birth of this child, this beautiful child of Christ, had cost Rebecca her life.

  Faith couldn’t help but wonder, Can such a horrific sacrifice ever make any sense?

  The next few days seemed surreal to Faith. She had taken a leave of absence from work, wanting to help as much as she could with the preparations for Rebecca’s funeral. Of course, there wasn’t that much to do. The Amish community had swung into action, members of the church district immediately taking over the tasks of tending to the children, cleaning the house, preparing the food, and even digging the grave in the cemetery. In reality, there wasn’t much at all for Faith to do.

  Manuel’s sister had taken over the care of the infant, whom, as of the day of the funeral service, was still unnamed. The other children seemed to be in shock, but coping better than Manuel, all of them save Anna. At almost twelve years of age, the loss of a mother was extra painful to her. As the oldest child, she would now have to assume the role of interim mamm to the younger kinner, once everything had been said and done. Then, she would have to face her growing years without the guidance and love of an adoring mother.

  Still, it was Manuel who worried Faith the most. He didn’t speak. He didn’t eat. He barely had done much of anything since the undertaker had removed Rebecca’s body to be prepared for the burial. When he finally returned Rebecca to the house later that evening, Manuel had barely glanced at the plain pine box that was carried into the house and set up in the cleaned out bedroom, the same room where, just hours before, she had died. The women had hurried into the room and dressed the body before permitting the beginning of what would be three days of viewing. During that time, over four hundred people would visit the Petersheim household, sitting for a while, passing by Rebecca’s coffin, and expressing their condolences to Manuel, Rebecca’s parents, and the children.

  Faith had watched all of this in disbelief. Surely this isn’t happening, she tried to convince herself. Truly she was dreaming and would awaken to find out that Rebecca was alive and well.

  But it was indeed happening and she wasn’t dreaming.

  The day of the funeral, Faith had attended the service, sitting in the back with her parents as she listened to the strange words of the bishop, spoken in a language she had never bothered to learn, as he paced back and forth before the casket. It was open and Faith could see Rebecca, dressed in white, resting from within. She could barely take her eyes off the casket and only did so to glance at the children who sat solemnly next to Manuel in order of their respective ages: Anna, Gideon, Mary, Sadie, and Benjamin.

  When the service was over, the people single-filed walked past the casket, pausing to briefly look, for a last time, at Rebecca. Faith was glad for her mother’s steady hand on her arm as their turn came to say good-bye to Rebecca.

  It was Rebecca’s brother who had insisted that she’d ride in his buggy in the funeral procession following the service. In a daze, Faith had not argued, remembering all too well the last time that James had offered her a ride in the buggy on the evening when Rebecca went to her first singing. Faith had declined then but she didn’t now. Instead, she crawled into the back of the buggy, seated next to two of his kinner, barely able to move, as James secured the front seat and helped his wife inside before climbing in behind her.

  Only family and the closest friends were invited to the burial site so Faith’s parents had parted before the members of the Petersheim and Yoder family left the house where the service was held. There were at least thirty buggies in the procession, the long line of grey topped buggies being pulled by black or chestnut horses following the wagon that carried Rebecca’s coffin to her final resting place. Police blocked traffic at the intersections so that the buggies could progress in peace, not hindered by impatient drivers who might try to pass them impulsively and carelessly on the back roads.

  At the cemetery, there had been one last viewing of the body before the undertaker shut the coffin and the men carried it over the grass and around the other gravestones to the hole that had been dug at the far end of the fenced-in plot of land reserved as the final resting place for the local Amish community. Faith followed the others toward the grave, shocked to see a mound of dirt and two shovels to the left side. She hadn’t been to many funerals in her life but, from the few that she recalled, she had never seen loose dirt, just waiting to be tossed atop of the coffin.

  A few words were said and the coffin was lowered into the hole. Faith cringed and looked away, hating the sound of the wood as it scraped the sides of the grave. Careful, she wanted to yell. That’s my friend! The tears began again and she dabbed at her eyes with a wadded up tissue.

  And then they began to fill in the grave.

  Faith watched, speechless. No one moved. No one said a word. They just stared into the hole, watching as two men began to toss the dirt into it, the noise of the earth dropping onto the pine coffin echoing in the silence. Faith looked around at the mourners’ faces, staring at their reactions, waiting for something, anything. But there was nothing. No expression of grief. No tears. No emotions. Just stunned faces watching as the mound of dirt began to transfer from the side of the grave onto the top of Rebecca’s coffin.

  A sob escaped Faith’s mouth and she turned away. She couldn’t watch this anymore. It was too morbid, too final. She started to walk away but she felt a hand on her arm, gently holding her back. She looked up and through her tears saw Manuel. He kept holding her arm, hindering her from leaving and, with a slight shake of his head, indicated that she should stay.

  “It’s her final journey, no?” he whispered sorrowfully. “She would want us to stay.” His eyes returned to the grave, watching as it gradually filled with the loose dirt. He sighed, a sad noise, and released Faith’s arm.

  No one spoke as they made their way back to the buggies. Faith walked slowly, her shoulders hunched over and her eyes d
owncast. She was wearing a long, plain black dress and the thought crossed her mind that under any other circumstances, Rebecca would have found this humorous, if not downright ironic. Indeed, if it were not for the lack of a prayer cap, her look and her demeanor were very similar to these of the Amish gathered at the funeral.

  As the buggies pulled away from the cemetery, there was a hollow feeling in Faith’s chest, as if she was abandoning Rebecca, leaving her in the cold, damp ground. She fought back another sob and covered her mouth with her hand, as if the pressure could keep her sorrow inside.

  Back at the Petersheim’s farmhouse, several of the Amish women from the church district had transformed the room that had been used for the funeral service into a dining room with two long tables, set for the meal. The older men and women sat at one table, men facing women. Faith did not know where to sit so she lingered by the door, watching all of this with a dazed expression on her face. No one seemed to notice her and, when she knew they were getting ready to pray, she slipped out the door, preferring to be by herself.

  She walked toward the barn, trying to clear her head of the chaotic thoughts that raced through her mind. If only, she thought…If only we hadn’t grown apart. If only I had stayed in closer contact. If only I had known that she was still trying to have more children. If only…

  Yet, Faith knew that she could have twenty “if only’s” but not one of them made any sense. Rebecca had known, going into this pregnancy, that the doctors had warned her. Rebecca had played with her own life, taking her chances. And she had lost.