by Sarah Price
Wiping her hands on her dress, she turned and started to walk toward the house. Thankfully, Anna had volunteered to wash the laundry and had already hung the wet clothes on the line to dry. Faith wasn’t looking forward to tackling that chore, not with a diesel powered wringer washer. Besides, Faith had promised the girls that she would take them to the dry goods store after dinner. Anna wanted to buy some material for quilting and Mary was looking for yarn to crochet an afghan. Knowing Sadie, Faith suspected she just wanted to ride along in the car.
As she turned the corner of the house, she noticed that Manuel was hitching up the horse to the buggy. She hadn’t seen him yet that day. He tended to make himself scarce whenever she was around. The only time she would see him was during the noon meal, if then. It wasn’t that he was unpleasant; just avoiding her and what she symbolized, Faith presumed. It didn’t bother her. As she kept reminding herself, she wasn’t doing this for Manuel but for Rebecca and those children.
“You going somewhere?” Faith called out, approaching him instead of disappearing into the house.
Manuel looked up, his blue eyes tired and weary. His beard looked grayer than she remembered. And he was thin. He had lost a lot of weight. Faith realized that he was aging right before her eyes. The loneliness was killing him, or, rather, he was allowing it to sap the life out of him. The expression on his face tore through her and she wished she knew him better, wished that she could shake him and tell him that this was not what Rebecca would have wanted for him. But Faith knew that she couldn’t do that.
“Mule’s mower strap broke,” he said, pointing to a leather strap on the ground. “Need to go to the harness shop to get it fixed.”
“You’ll miss dinner,” she pointed out.
He shrugged. “Won’t starve, I reckon.”
Faith frowned, wishing she felt comfortable enough to tell him that the last thing he needed was to miss a meal. “No, but you’ll get sick.” Since Rebecca’s death, he had already lost too much weight. Faith had noticed that a while back, although she wasn’t certain if it was grief, poor eating, or hard work that had shed his pounds. Either way, she was working hard to solve that problem. With a quick glance at her car, Faith extended an olive branch. “Let me take you. It’ll be faster.”
He hesitated. She could see him trying to figure out how to argue with her, how to avoid spending the time with her.
“Let me go get my purse,” she said, taking advantage of the silence to make the decision for him. Within minutes, she was back. She had told Anna that she was taking their daed to the store and could she please watch the other kinner? Faith wasn’t certain of how long they would be gone but certainly it couldn’t take too much time to repair a harness strap for the mower.
Once in the car, she felt strange to be in such a confined space with Manuel. She realized how little she knew about him. Oh, growing up she had seen him when she was hanging around with Rebecca. They had spoken several times. He had even given her a ride home to her farm on a few occasions. And, of course, there had been the pond incident, one that she tried to forget about, rather than remember. But, after Rebecca had married Manuel, there hadn’t been much interaction. Rebecca had morphed into the perfect Amish wife and mother while Faith had transformed into a typical Englische career woman, focused on her education and, later, on teaching her students.
“Turn right up here,” he said solemnly, pointing at a road up ahead.
She put on her blinker and slowed the car down before turning. “Sure is good weather for mowing,” she said, trying to break the ice.
“Ja,” he admitted.
Silence.
“The boys helping you?”
Manuel took a sharp intake of air. “Gideon, ja.”
She glanced at him. “You need more help? Perhaps Anna, Mary and I could help. I haven’t done haying since I was a teenager with my father. Always loved the smell of fresh cut hay.”
“No need,” he replied.
Faith sighed. She wasn’t making much headway with Manuel and his monosyllabic answers were taxing her nerves. “I’m sure you could use some help…if not some company,” she finally said. She sensed the tension in his lack of a response. “Would be good for Anna, too. She’s always in the house. Fresh air, field work…a good medicine for all of us.” She was trying to sound light and cheerful, not bossy or strong-headed.
The harness store was only a ten-minute drive from Manuel’s farm, down several long, winding back roads. But it would certainly have taken him a good forty five minutes to drive the horse and buggy there. She was glad that she was able to save him that time.
Once she parked the car in the driveway, he got out, not inviting her inside. Nonplussed, she shrugged and opened the car door, jumping out in order to follow behind Manuel. She was just two steps behind him when he opened the door to the harness shop, a small bell tingling to announce their arrival. He hadn’t noticed she was behind him and didn’t hold the door open for her. Faith reached her hand out to stop it from slamming shut in her face. He paused and looked over his shoulder at her, surprised to see her right behind him. But he said nothing as they continued toward the counter.
“Manuel!” the Amish man said, smiling at him. “Right gut to see you!”
Manuel nodded.
“How you getting on, then?”
Faith cringed at the question but noticed that Manuel did not have any reaction beyond replying with a curt, “Getting on.” He lifted the harness strap and set it on the counter, ignoring the way that the man looked at Faith. “Mule just broke this. You have another one?”
The man picked up the strap and looked at it. “Ja, ja,” he said, nodding his head. “Sure can’t do much mowing with that, now, can you?”
Manuel shook his head. “Nee.”
The man tugged at his beard, his eyes glancing at Faith again. She met his eyes and didn’t back down. Certainly the man was wondering who she was but, if Manuel wasn’t going to introduce them or say anything, neither would she. “Right then,” he finally said. “Give me a minute and I’ll get it.”
Faith watched as the man shuffled away from the counter and through a doorway. She took a moment to begin wandering around the store, looking at the different types of equipment and harnesses on display. Some of the collars were fancy, thick black leather with shiny silver ornamentation on them. Others were just plain, more along the lines of what she was familiar with seeing on the back roads of Pequea.
“That’s beautiful,” she whispered, more to herself than to Manuel as she reached a hand out to touch the silver studding along the collar.
“Not very practical,” she heard him respond. Surprised, she looked up and noticed that he was watching her. “And quite dear.”
“I imagine so,” she said, knowing that the Amish weren’t into the showy trappings that so often caught the attention of the rest of the world. This fancy collar was certainly not for an Amish man. “But it’s pretty nonetheless,” she said softly as she dropped her hand and walked back to the counter, standing quietly beside him.
She heard him clear his throat, as if he was going to say something. But, it was at that moment that the Amish man came back, carrying a new strap in his hand. “Last one in that size, Manuel.” He slid it across the counter. “Don’t be breaking anymore straps today,” he teased.
The ride back to the farm was quiet, Manuel holding the strap in his hand and staring out the window. She wondered what he was thinking, wondered why he was always so quiet around her. When would the healing process begin?
“I remember a time,” she heard herself start to say, “when we were younger and Rebecca and I were helping her daed with the haying. He’d mow and we’d rake the hay into long piles to dry. She loved to hay.”
“I know,” Manuel said, his voice flat.
Faith glanced at him. “She helped you?”
“Of course,” he snapped, shooting a fierce look in her direction. “Everyone helps at hay time on the farm!”
“Then you should certainly be thankful for our help this afternoon,” Faith said gaily, ignoring the tone in Manuel’s voice as she pulled into the driveway. Putting the car into park, she turned and smiled at Manuel. He didn’t look amused at having been trapped. “Guess I’ll see about dinner and tell the children about our plans for the afternoon,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she opened the car door and got out, hurrying to the house to see about finishing the preparation for the noon meal.
Anna clapped her hands in delight when Faith told her. Raking hay meant time outdoors with her daed. She laughed and spun around in the kitchen. “That’s wunderbaar gut, Faith! Just like last summer with Mamm. We always had a fun time, singing and laughing! Danke, danke!” the girl gushed. “It won’t be the same without Mamm but I’m ever so thankful you talked Daed into it!”
The look of joy on Anna’s face made everything worthwhile. Faith smiled, unable to express what she was feeling as Anna glowed, bustling about the kitchen to set the table and help Faith prepare the rest of the meal. When the other children came downstairs, Anna was quick to tell them about Faith’s announcement.
Sadie didn’t seem as happy as Anna but Mary smiled and glowed in her quiet shy way. “Just like when Mamm was alive,” she said softly.
“It’s time to hay!” Rebecca told Faith, jumping up and down. “Daed said I can help. You can, too!”
Faith had to laugh at her friend’s excitement. While she enjoyed haying with her own father, she never experienced the same jubilance that Rebecca did. Of course, Faith’s father used gasoline powered farm equipment while Rebecca’s used equipment that was animal powered. She had to admit to harboring a touch of curiosity about helping the Yoder’s with the haying, eager to see how different it was when using the mule-drawn equipment.
They spent the morning helping Rebecca’s daed, riding along in the mule-drawn mower, their bare feet on the seat as they stood next to her daed. He let them take turns holding the reins and driving the mules under his watchful eye. Faith loved the feel of the leather in her hands, knowing that she was steering those magnificent 18h Belgian mules with the creamy colored fur and large ears. She immediately decided that she preferred the Amish manner of cutting hay to that of her father’s method. It was relaxing and fun, a time of bonding with Rebecca and nature.
At the end of the day, Faith thanked Rebecca’s daed.
“You come help anytime,” he laughed at her, his eyes twinkling. “We’ll make you Amish yet, young Faith.”
It was almost four when they had finished mowing the backfield. Soon it would be time for the evening milking and Faith needed to prepare supper for the Petersheim’s before she would return to her parents’ farm. Anna, Mary, and Faith took turns watching Ruthie while the others helped Manuel. As the hay was cut, the children raked it into neat lines for drying. In a few days, they would bale the hay but only after it was properly dried. Hay that had even the slightest bit of moisture was apt to burn when baled and left to smolder in the barn. Many a barn had burned down due to overzealous baling without the proper drying time.
Faith had stood under a tree, holding Ruthie in her arms and watching the rest of the Petersheim family working together. Gideon stood beside Manuel, learning from his daed how to drive the mules. She smiled as she watched, remembering too well when Rebecca’s daed had taught her in much the same way. After a while, Manuel had slowed the horses down and looked around, his eyes stopping on his youngest son. With a nod of his head, Manuel had indicated that it was now Benjamin’s turn to learn.
Faith had never seen Benjamin smile so broadly.
A family that works together, stays together, she told herself as she carried Ruthie back to the house to get a jump-start on preparing supper. She could hear the family singing a hymn as she crossed the slight hill toward the barn. Ruthie cooed in her ear, pulling at her long braid that hung down her back. Faith wasn’t certain which music she appreciated more: the family enjoying themselves or the baby singing in her ear.
It was later that afternoon, as Faith prepared the evening meal, a light fare of bread, applesauce, fruit, and cold cuts, that Manuel approached her. The rest of the children were outside and Ruthie was wiggling on the floor, laying on a blanket in a sunbeam that came through the window. Faith sensed Manuel’s presence before she turned and saw him standing there, watching her, from the doorway again. She had been setting the table for the family and now, stood up and faced him.
“I don’t know why you are doing this,” Manuel said slowly, holding his straw hat in his hand. She bit her lip, waiting for his next words, fully expecting him to banish her from the farm. Instead, however, he nodded his head. “But I am most thankful, Faith.” He paused, searching for the right words. She waited patiently, allowing him the time to clear his thoughts. Finally, he looked back at her and sighed. “My family needed you. Danke.” And, with that, he turned and disappeared back outside.
Faith stood there for a moment, repeating his words in her mind. He was so sincere, so humbled, in how he had spoken to her. The inner conflict that he had when it came to accepting her help as they healed seemed to be breaking. He was seeing the change in his children and his home. It was no longer a dark and sad place but one that, despite everyone missing Rebecca, could once again be filled with laughter and happiness. And he appreciated that knowledge.
For a moment, Faith fought the urge to cry. She lifted her eyes and stared at the ceiling, blinking for just a moment. Oh Rebecca, she thought. They miss you so. I am just thankful that I can help put your family back on track. Thank you for guiding me here.
Her heart was light as she finished setting the table for the Petersheim family, pausing to place a small cup filled with freshly cut lilacs in the center. Standing back, she appraised the result: a table for the family filled with love. Satisfied, she smiled to herself and went to gather her things in order to return to her parents’ farm, knowing that the family needed this time to enjoy each other’s company alone over the suppertime meal.
Chapter Six
When Ruthie smiled at her for the first time, a real sincere smile that was born from recognition, Faith thought that her heart would break into pieces. She scooped the baby into her arms and nuzzled her neck, delighting to hear the gentle cooing noise that Ruthie made. She had been smiling for two weeks now but nothing like the one that the baby blessed Faith with as she walked into the house on this Monday morning.
“Why, good morning to you too, precious!” Faith said. “You look mighty happy today!”
“She slept all night through,” Anna said, a look of relief on her face.
“Wow.” Faith hugged Ruthie against her chest, kissing the side of the baby’s head. “Gave your big sister a break, didn’t you?”
The three-month old gurgled and waved her hands in the air, reaching out to pull at Faith’s hair. Laughing, Faith reached up to free her braid from Ruthie’s tight grasp.
“You should wrap that,” Anna said.
“Wrap it?”
“Ja,” Anna nodded. “In a bun. She won’t be able to pull at it anymore.” Anna paused, hesitating before making the offer. “Would you like me to do it?”
The offer was sincere. Faith immediately wondered how often Anna and Rebecca had shared similar moments, a moment of maternal intimacy that touched her heart. Without saying a word, she nodded, recognizing the implications of the offer from the young girl: a bonding moment.
Within minutes, Anna had disappeared into the downstairs bathroom and returned with some pins. Faith smiled to herself as she sat down on the bench by the table, turning her back to Anna so that she had better access to her braid. She shut her eyes as Anna quickly twisted and turned the hair, sticking pins into it so that she had a nice, neat bun at the nape of her neck.
“Why, you almost look Amish,” someone said from the doorway.
Faith turned her head, startled to see Gideon and Manuel standing there. Gideon laughed at his own comment, unaware of the expression on his da
ed’s face. Clearly Gideon’s remark had struck a chord with Manuel, one that caused that all-too-familiar cloud to cover his eyes. Faith was beginning to recognize it as the expression of deep reflection. Perhaps even conflict. Whenever he had that look, she wondered what he was thinking and wished that she felt comfortable enough around him to inquire further. But she didn’t.
“Well,” Faith said lightly, trying to make light of Gideon’s comment. “I’m sure most Amish don’t wear braided buns, now do they?”
“I said almost,” Gideon teased.
Changing the subject, Faith turned her attention back to Ruthie. “I do believe she smiled at me today, and not a gassy smile but really recognized me!”
Gideon bounced across the room, leaning over Faith’s shoulder to look at his baby sister. “She probably thinks you’re her mamm,” he whispered, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear.
Without looking, Faith knew that Manuel had heard and the comment did not sit well with him. The squeak of the screen door attested to that fact. He had left the house. She wanted to sigh, to shake her head. Would he ever appreciate what she was trying to do? But she was doing this for the children, for the memory of Rebecca. Manuel’s approval was at the bottom of the list of priorities, she reminded herself.
“I think today is a good day for gardening, don’t you agree?” Faith said, directing the question at Anna. “It’s cool this morning. And I noticed some of the beans are ready.”
After preparing a quick breakfast for everyone, Faith hurried upstairs to change Ruthie. She stared at the smiling baby and, in the privacy of the room, wondered if Gideon was correct. Could the baby think she was the mamm? At what age would the baby truly know? Tickling the baby’s bare toes, Faith smiled at her. At what point would Faith begin to think that she was, indeed, the mamm. In many ways, she felt that way with the baby. After all, she had been there at the birth, the only one to pay attention to the newborn while everyone else was so focused on Rebecca.