by Sarah Price
Lydia smiled. But there was no malice in her expression. “Oh I know that, Faith,” she said gently. “We knew he’d get married again. He had no choice, really.”
No choice?
Lydia continued. “Those kinner need a mamm, for sure and certain. And, frankly, I’m not displeased that it’s you.”
This surprised Faith and she met Lydia’s gaze. “How is that?” she asked.
“Vell,” Lydia said, gesturing to the table as an indication that Faith should sit down. “You were always Rebecca’s best friend, you’ve known her for what? Twenty-five years? That’s a lot of history and love to bring to those kinner. And remember something,” Lydia added as she moved over to the refrigerator, pulling out a large glass pitcher filled with meadow tea. She poured a glass and set it down before Faith. “I was there, Faith. I heard what she said to you. Rebecca wanted this for Manuel, for her kinner, but also for you.”
You help Manny.
Faith lowered her eyes and nodded. That was exactly how she felt, too. Rebecca had wanted this for all of them. She often felt as if the hand of God had been guiding her and, in her mind, she saw Rebecca beside Him, whispering in His ear and pointing down from heaven, her finger identifying Faith as the one that she had chosen for her family.
“He doesn’t love me,” Faith said, surprised that she had spoken those words out loud.
Lydia raised an eyebrow, peering at Faith from behind her glasses. “Do you want him to?”
Faith paused, thinking about the question. Did she? Did she want him to love her? After all, they both knew that this was a marriage of convenience, a marriage to raise those children and honor Rebecca. She hadn’t thought much about what their arrangement would be after the wedding. “I would like that, yes,” she said.
“Do you love him?”
“No,” she admitted slowly, wishing she felt as confident about it as she wanted to sound. “But I will. I’m sure of it.”
Lydia nodded. “There are many different types of love, aren’t there?” She didn’t wait for Faith to respond. “But what holds a marriage together is the love of God. And that is what is most important.”
It was her first lesson, Faith realized. God first, family second. Oh, she had been raised in a God-fearing home. She had gone to church every Sunday, neatly groomed and eager for the children’s time at the front of the Mennonite church, sitting on the steps while the pastor spoke about Jesus and God, love and faith. But her family hadn’t been very conservative, not like some of the other Mennonites in Lancaster County. Her mother didn’t wear a head covering, although Faith remembered that her grandmother always wore one. There was even a whisper that, several generations back, one of her ancestors had been Amish before leaving the church, rather than take the kneeling vow and break it.
“Now,” Lydia said. “I reckon it’s time to make some proper dresses for you, then.” She smiled and walked over to the counter, picking up a brown paper bag. “Manuel brought some fabric from the dry goods store. With both of us working together, we should have you dressed by suppertime!”
Faith hadn’t noticed the paper bag on the counter. When Lydia handed it to her, Faith peeked inside, frowning when she saw folded fabric in different colors: blue, green, black, and burgundy. Manuel had bought that for her? “That was awfully thoughtful of him,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
There was an odd look in Lydia’s eye as she watched Faith’s reaction. “He’s always been a gentle soul,” she said. “Thoughtful and kind in all ways. He was a right gut older bruder, for sure and certain.”
Just one more thing I never knew about him, Faith scolded herself. During the years that he was married to Rebecca, she had never bothered to get to know Manuel. He had always intimidated her, the memory of him saving her always too close to the surface to let her release her shyness. During the months after Rebecca’s death when Faith had been helping with the children, she hadn’t bothered to break through his tough exterior that still bore the scars of mourning. Yet now, she thought as she ran her hands over the fabric, she was learning more about this man, this man who had loved her best friend and this man she had promised to marry so that she could honor her best friend’s dying wish.
“Ja vell,” Lydia said. “Best get started then, before the kinner get home from school. Won’t get much sewing done then.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Lydia and Faith worked with the fabric. It amazed Faith how quickly Lydia worked, her hands so expertly cutting the material and pinning the pieces together before using the sewing machine to create the dresses. Faith watched her hands move, wondering how she would ever learn to do the same. Her own clothes had been store-bought, mostly simple dresses. But her mother had never made her clothing at home.
”Look, Faith!” Rebecca motioned for her friend to join her in the sunroom that was directly off the kitchen. “I made a new dress!” She was excited and held up a black dress that looked identical to the green one that she was wearing. “Do you like it?”
“It’s very severe, don’t you think?” Faith admitted as she touched the fabric. “But it looks well made, Rebecca.”
“It’s for church. For when I become a baptized member. I’ll be needing to wear black dresses on Sunday, then,” she explained.
“What’s wrong with wearing colors on the Lord’s day?” Some of the Amish rules didn’t seem to make much sense to Faith.
A simple shrug of the shoulders answered the question. Rebecca didn’t know why she needed to wear black but she also never thought to ask for an explanation. “I love sewing,” Rebecca said, steering the conversation back to a safe topic. “Don’t you wish that you could make your own clothes?” The question was asked out of curiosity about the life of the Englische. She had never understood the concept of buying clothing versus making it from bolts of fabrics.
Faith laughed. “Not everyone is as good a seamstress as you are, Rebecca. I’d probably sew the fabric to my fingers if I tried!”
Rebecca frowned and put her hand on her hip, staring at her friend. “Now Faith,” she started and Faith immediately knew that a lecture was headed her way. “How can you possibly take care of your family if you can’t sew?”
“I don’t intend to make clothes for my own family,” Faith replied lightly. “I’m not Amish, Rebecca. Mennonites can buy their own dresses at stores.”
That response didn’t please Rebecca and she scoffed. “Maybe that’s the problem with the world. More of you Englische should spend the time making your own clothes rather than simply buying whatever is available in a store. It’s an act of love, you know,” she said. “To make clothes for yourself, your husband, and your children.”
Faith waved her hand at Rebecca. “I don’t have a husband or children so what’s the point?”
Rebecca turned back to her dress, holding it up toward the window so that she could look at it in a better light. “You will, Faith. Just you wait.”
Faith quickly found out that she had a good friend in Lydia. She was just a few years younger than Manuel but seemed wise beyond her years. She had married before Manuel and Rebecca and already had a daughter who was turning fourteen in a few months. It was her last year at school before she would begin her home studies to complete her education as required by the state. With six other children and, from the looks of it, one on the way, Lydia Esh’s house was quite busy in the evenings and on the weekends.
And so, her days began to fall into a busy routine. She awoke around five in the morning to help Lydia prepare for the day. Sometimes she would help milk the cows with Lydia and her husband. Other times, she began to collect the laundry for a pre-breakfast washing. Lydia had seven children with another one on the way. Laundry was a never-ending task.
After breakfast, the children would walk to school. Faith would accompany them since it was en route to the Petersheim farm. It was a long walk and she would arrive shortly before eight-thirty, replacing Anna and giving the girl just enough time to hurry to school. Ru
thie was usually still asleep and Faith would stand, just for a short while, in the doorway and watch the baby, her two little arms tossed over her head and her mouth puckered as she sucked away during her light morning dreams.
Manuel did his best to avoid the house while Faith was there. She noticed that almost right away. He wouldn’t take the noon meal in the house, avoiding her gaze and her questions. Instead, she would bring him a basket of food into the barn.
Lydia was quick to explain. “It just would not be proper for Manuel to be in the house alone with you.”
“I don’t understand,” Faith retorted. “He needs to eat. And it’s his home.”
Lydia smiled gently, an understanding look of wisdom in her eyes. “You aren’t married yet. No need for idle tongues to be wagging about what’s going on in that house, ja?”
“But it was alright when we were not to be married?”
Lydia turned to Faith and raised an eyebrow but said nothing. That was the moment when Faith understood. Her life was no longer her own. It was now being examined under a microscope, an Amish microscope. Being alone in the house could lead to sinful thoughts, which in turn could lead to sinful acts. No need for gossip about the Petersheim family. Surely the community was gossiping anyway, wondering about Manuel’s betrothal to Faith, a Mennonite woman who was willingly converting to the Amish faith. It was a very special circumstance, one that permitted Faith the individual instructional with the bishop. Her commitment to the Mennonite faith and her lifelong friendship with the Amish were the only two reasons why he had agreed to permit her this special baptism.
Little by little, Faith realized that Lydia must certainly be correct. She saw almost nothing of Manuel during the week. However, every Friday evening, when it came time for her to walk back down the road to Lydia’s, he would pull up to the house in his horse and buggy, waiting patiently for her to emerge from the house with her basket of things. He would stand by the buggy, his straw hat in his hand as if nervous at the prospect of asking her the soon to be familiar question: “May I take you home, Faith?”
At first, she had been confused at the formality of his invitations. By the third week, she found it charming. The way that he waited for her, shuffling his feet and his eyes darting around, looking anywhere but at her, spoke of his respect for her independence to pull out from their agreement. He wasn’t taking anything for granted and, for that, she was grateful.
The Friday evening rides back to Lydia’s farm quickly became her favorite part of the week. She noticed that he drove slowly, sometimes turning down unnecessary lanes, to take her back to his sister’s farm. Quite often, he didn’t speak, merely holding the reins and staring out the window. But that didn’t bother Faith. She took that time to update him on his children and their progress. Gideon was doing well in math while Benjamin was struggling with reading. Anna and Mary were both strong spellers and Sadie, well, she was a vociferous reader. All of the children were doing excellent in English, a fact that Faith took extra pride in. After school, she was able to help them all with their homework and spent extra time with the younger ones to properly learn their English.
“That’s gut,” he said one evening. “You have truly taken charge of their education. That has to be the teacher in you.”
Faith beamed under his praise. “Oh wouldn’t Rebecca be proud?”
Immediately, she sensed that he stiffened. The gay nature of their ride vanished and the muscles in his jaw tensed.
“Manuel,” Faith asked softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Why do you get like this when I mention her?”
“She’s with God now,” was his answer. But that left too many questions unanswered for Faith.
They rode the rest of the way to Lydia’s in silence.
The children’s reaction to the announcement about Faith had surprised her. She had expected resentment or tears. After all, she was the “replacement” for their mother. Instead, the children had smiled and seemed to quickly accept Faith as their surrogate mother for the next years of their lives. To them, it was a natural progression. To Faith, it was as though she was having an out of body experience. From being single to being married, from being alone to having six children. It felt surreal to her and she often had to stop herself from what she was doing to pause and reflect on the changes that were soon to come.
In the evenings, Lydia and her husband, John, spent time with Faith after supper, talking about the Ordnung and reading the Bible. Faith also spent a lot of time observing the relationship between Lydia and John. It was a different type of relationship than the one she was familiar with from her own upbringing. Indeed, she became aware at a very early stage that Lydia deferred to John on most decisions. Questions were used instead of mandates. Yet, in most cases, John agreed with Lydia.
One night, Lydia had been crocheting a baby blanket for her sister’s new baby when she cleared her throat and looked up at John. “Fannie Zook stopped by today and wondered if our eldest might help with their daughter’s new market on Saturdays.”
John had looked up from the paper he was reading. “Ja?”
Lydia had nodded. “Ja,” she affirmed. “Might be a right nice opportunity to make some extra money over the winter. But mayhaps you think she’s too young yet? Too bad we can’t try it for a few weeks…” She hadn’t finished her sentence, letting the words linger between them.
Faith had watched this exchange, hearing the words that were actually spoken but sensing the underlying concern. This form of communication amazed her for she quickly realized that Lydia was guiding John toward the decision she preferred but she still left the decision in her husband’s hands.
“I reckon we might agree for her to try it for a month and see how she makes do,” John had finally agreed. “Don’t want her sleeping during Sunday service.”
Faith found herself learning a lot from these exchanges. It was easy to recognize the respect and reverence that was shared between husband and wife, something that was often misconstrued by the Englisher as an Amish wife being submissive to her husband’s will; yet it was becoming obvious to Faith that such exchanges showed a mutual love and devotion that clearly contributed to the strength of the bond in their relationship.
Twice a week, the bishop stopped by the house, visiting to check on Faith’s progress. It always worried Faith that she would fail his expectations; especially given that she had no barometer to understand what progress she was to be making. Was it cooking or cleaning? Sewing or knitting? Worshiping or learning Pennsylvania Dutch, a language she highly doubted she would ever be able to speak.
One Sunday, during a non-worship day, Faith was surprised to see a buggy pull into the driveway. The horse was all too familiar: Manuel’s. When the doors slid back, the children piled out, Anna the first to get out with Ruthie in her arms. Seeing the baby and the children that she had so grown to love, Faith clapped her hands in delight and, without so much as a word to Lydia, ran out of the house to embrace them.
“Whatever are you doing here?” she asked, touching each child on the cheek. “It’s such a long weekend when I don’t see you at church!” She scooped Ruthie from Anna’s arms and walked back toward the house, children surrounding her. She didn’t have to look at Lydia’s face to see the approving smile cross her lips. “Did you know about this, Lydia? This wonderful surprise visit?”
“Nee, nee,” Lydia professed. “But I’m glad to see your joy and theirs! Wilkom!”
Manuel entered the kitchen last. He was carrying a wrapped package. He seemed unnerved by the noise in the kitchen, not just from his children clamoring around Faith but also from Lydia’s children. For a few moments, he stood in the doorway, shuffling his feet as his blue eyes darted around the room, avoiding Faith’s gaze.
Recognizing his nervousness, Faith finally handed Ruthie back to Anna and approached Manuel. “Wie gehts?” she asked, one of the few phrases in Pennsylvania Dutch that she could use properly and practically without the trace of an Englische accent.
/> “Mayhaps we could speak on the porch?” he asked, his eyes avoiding hers.
For a moment, her heart flipped inside of her chest and a wave of fear flooded through her. Had he changed his mind? Was he here to deliver bad news? Would she be separated from those children for good? Was this the reason why he had brought them here to visit? To say their goodbyes? She glanced at Lydia who merely shrugged her shoulders and motioned for Faith to follow Manuel. Obediently, she did, walking behind him through the kitchen door and onto the porch.
“Manuel?” she asked, feeling a wave of panic overtake her. She suddenly realized how important the Petersheim family was to her. The thought of not being the mother to Ruthie as well as the others kinner made her queasy. Please God, she prayed. Don’t let him change his mind, if not for me, then for the children’s sake.
“I bought this for you,” he said, awkwardly thrusting the package at her. “I thought it might be helpful.”
Curious, she glanced first at him before turning her attention to the plain brown wrapped package. It was heavy and fairly large. It certainly wasn’t more fabric for dresses. “What is this?”
He tried to hide his smile. “Open it and see.”
And she did.
The brown paper made a heavy crinkling noise as she peeled it away. He reached for it, helping her in the effort of unwrapping the gift. She handed it to him, feeling a warmth race through her veins when his hand brushed lightly against hers. Another glance at his face and she saw that, indeed, he was proud of this gift that he had bought for her.
Inside were two brown leather books, large and heavy. She turned them over to see what they were: The Ausbund, the hymnal of the Amish. For a moment, she frowned. Lydia had the Ausbund at the house and so did he. Why would she need her own copy? But then, as she opened the cover and peered inside, she saw the reason.
“I..I thought this might help you,” he said, leaning over her shoulder to point to a passage. “Being in both German and English.”