Amish Faith: An Amish Christian Romance

by Sarah Price

  “Perhaps Gideon, you and your brother could help your daed,” Faith had suggested as she glanced at the clock. “I sure bet he could use a hand with the evening milking.”

  It was Anna who nodded to the two boys. “You listen to Mamm now,” she urged them.

  Mamm. The word had struck Faith and she lifted a hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding. How easily that word had slid from Anna’s lips. How easily they had accepted her into their family. For a moment, she wondered why Rebecca was replaced with so little apprehension on the part of the kinner. Why hadn’t they fought it? Why had they embraced Faith’s presence with such elation?

  The pounding inside of her chest never faded that evening. She had been nervous and jumpy, waiting for Manuel and the boys to come inside after tending to the animals. It was dark when they finally stomped into the kitchen, Manuel pausing to hang up his hat from a peg that jutted out from the wall. He glanced at Faith and forced a quick smile before he hurried to the sink and washed his hands. The fact that he was avoiding her gaze was more than apparent.

  “Oh,” she had said, stepping aside, making room for him at the counter. “You hadn’t changed your clothes.” She reached for a hand towel, waiting for him to finish washing his hands.

  Surprised, Manuel had looked down and realized that, indeed, he had tended the evening chores wearing his black suit. “I didn’t, did I?” he said sheepishly. His nice Sunday clothes were splattered with dirt, hay, and manure was lining the hem of his trousers. “Must’ve slipped my mind.” He took the towel that Faith offered him and nodded his appreciation. Then, with a quick glance at the clock, he looked at the kinner. “Reckon you best be going to bed, then,” he said, nodding to Anna to take charge of the younger ones. “Been a long day and you have school tomorrow.”

  Once the room had quieted down, Faith had stood against the counter, watching Manuel with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. She didn’t know what to do. She was uncertain of how to act. Earlier that day, she had stood before the community, promising to be his wife. Yet, it was the one thing she didn’t know how to do. She wished that he would say something to her, anything to help guide her in this new role as a wife. His wife. Instead, he sighed and walked to the bedroom on the first floor. He paused as he stood in the doorway, his back to her. “I moved my things back down here,” he said. “Reckon it was time, ja?”

  And that had been it.

  There had been no hugs, no kisses. There had been no loving embraces. He had merely said that he was going to retire for the night and, behind a closed door, he had changed his clothes and crawled into bed, leaving the kerosene lantern burning on her nightstand.

  Realizing that he wasn’t coming back to the kitchen, Faith had wandered to the doorway of the bedroom, peering inside with trepidation. The last time she had seen him in this room, the room that he had shared with Rebecca, had been when Ruthie was born. After Rebecca’s death, he had slept upstairs, not wanting to sleep in that bedroom, a room full of memories. Now, however, with a new wife, it was time to move back into the master bedroom. Standing in the doorway, Faith had watched Manuel for a moment, wondering how hard that move had actually been.

  In the glow emanating from the lantern, Faith had quickly changed out of her blue dress, hanging it on a hanger and placing it on the peg in the wall. The air was chilly and she had quietly slipped on the white nightgown, glancing once over her shoulder at Manuel before turning back to the dresser where she removed the white prayer kapp, setting it down beside her hairbrush before she pulled the bobby pins from her hair. It had cascaded down past her shoulders in loose waves. Once more, she had looked over at Manuel, wondering if he was still awake, wondering if he was waiting for her.

  To her relief, she realized that he was not.

  She had never known a man. Yet now, as the wife of her best friend’s husband, she knew that there would come a day when she would have to be more than a wife in name. However, it was immediately clear that this would not be the night. Her wedding night, she realized, would be spent sleeping and not exploring the unknown world of true marriage. Yes, she realized, she was content with that. She needed more time to come to grips with the thought of eventual intimacy.

  Manuel had apparently recognized her apprehension and respected it. Perhaps, she realized, he was having the same thoughts. Regardless, she was relieved that he was leaving her alone to her own reflections, probably working out his own turmoil over the loss of his beloved Rebecca and the acquisition of Faith as the unlikely replacement. That thought bothered Faith and she had spent most of the night tossing and turning, troubled by the fact that she was considered perhaps just that: a replacement.

  So, in the morning, when he slipped out from under the covers, she listened to him shuffle through the darkness. He had slept in simple pajamas and now, she could hear him getting changed into his work clothes. She guessed it was four-thirty although there was no clock in the room to tell her whether or not she was right.

  She sat up in the bed, holding the covers against her chest to ward off the morning cold. “Shall I help you, Manuel?”

  “Ach,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his weight causing her to move toward him, her leg brushing against his hip. Manuel leaned over toward her, something she sensed more than saw for she could barely make out his silhouette in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to wake you, Faith.” She felt his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back on the mattress. “Stay in bed and sleep some more,” he commanded gently. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Mayhaps a nice hot breakfast would be right gut then?”

  It was something. A small something. A simple gesture that warmed her heart. He had sat next to her. He had touched her shoulder. He had wanted her to stay comfortable and in bed. And he had spoken to her, his gentle words and soft tone caressing her ears. It was more than she had received from him since the day he had saved her life.

  She listened as he leaned down and pulled on his work boots before standing up and quietly walking to the door. Once he passed through the door, shutting it behind him, she heard him cough in the kitchen, pausing just for a moment to run the kitchen faucet for, she imagined, a cup of water. A few seconds later, the door to the washroom squeaked open and she heard him walking down the porch, his footsteps gradually fading away.

  For the next thirty minutes, she laid in bed, listening to the noise of the clock in the other room. When it chimed five times, she realized that she had been correct about Manuel waking up at four-thirty in the morning. For the past six months, he had been doing that every day, greeting the darkness by himself as he went about his chores. The sun would rise and the sky would shift from blackness to a warm orange. Yet he did it alone, no help or company during those early morning hours.

  The thought bothered her and, aware that she wasn’t about to fall back to sleep, even after her almost sleepless night, she tossed the covers back and quickly got out of the bed. There was a metal tin of matches hanging from the wall near a strike pad. She had used it before when she had stayed at the house. Striking the match, she turned back to the kerosene lantern and lit it, appreciating the golden glow that instantly lit up the room.

  Twenty minutes later, she was dressed and carrying a pot of hot coffee through the chilly morning air as she headed toward the barn. She had put on a black sweater over her dress and covered her head with a cream colored scarf. Even still, it was cold.

  She heard him before she saw him. He was talking softly to one of the cows as he attached the mechanical milking machine to her udders. Faith couldn’t understand what he said for he was speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch but, from the tone, she knew that he was soothing the animal.

  She cleared her throat to let him know that she was there.

  The look on his face was one of complete surprise. “Faith?” He stood up, resting his hand on the cow’s rump. “Why are you up? It’s early.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes it is.” Then she lifted the coffee pot and two mugs
, smiling at him. “I thought I would bring my husband some coffee to warm him up while I kept him company,” she said. Husband. The word sounded odd coming from her lips. She had to force herself to say it and could barely look him in the eye when she did. Husband. Indeed, it didn’t sound real at all to call Manuel Petersheim her husband.

  Manuel didn’t seem to notice. “Why,” he started, sounding genuinely pleased, his face lighting up. “That was right thoughtful of you.”

  She poured coffee into one of the mugs and walked over to hand it to him. As he took the mug, his hand brushed against hers and she blushed. “You like it black, right?” She knew the answer to the question but asked it anyway, hoping that it would break the ice.

  “Ja, black,” he said, nodding his head. He shut his eyes as he sipped the warm liquid. “Ah, dat ist gut!”

  Another small something. A compliment. Despite the trepidation in her heart, Faith was pleased with how the morning was progressing. Manuel seemed to be loosening up, just a little. It gave her hope…hope that a happy future might actually be possible.

  “You know,” she said slowly, glancing down the aisle of cows waiting to be milked. “I have always helped my father with the milking. I’d get up early so that he wouldn’t be doing all that work alone. So, you see, I’m used to it, Manuel.” She looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “I’d like to help you too.”

  He leaned against the cow’s rump, one hand holding the coffee mug and the other tugging thoughtfully at his beard. His blues eyes stared at her, assessing her. “You would, ja?”

  She nodded her head.

  “Vell,” he said, sipping at the coffee again. “Reckon I could use a hand in the morning. Boys usually get out here about six to start on the stalls and to drop the hay. But if you want to help with milking, that might be right gut.” He raised an eyebrow, a conniving smile on his face and added, “That and a pot of hot coffee, of course.”

  Was he teasing her? She felt her heart flip with joy. In less than an hour, three small blessings from this man, her husband. Signs that everything would be all right. His approval pleased her and she felt like a young schoolgirl, as if the most handsome boy in class was paying attention to her. She flushed and lowered her eyes, hoping that he didn’t see her reaction. Yet, when he chuckled, she knew that he had.

  They worked in silence for the next hour, Manuel occasionally giving her directions so that she could learn the routine of his morning with the cows and how to use the milking equipment. While it wasn’t too different than how her father worked his dairy, there were certain nuances to Manuel’s order of business. She listened attentively, nodding her head in understanding and, to both of their pleasure, she picked everything up quickly.

  They were just finished with the milking when the two boys wandered into the barn. Manuel glanced at the clock on the wall and raised an eyebrow. It was almost six-thirty. They were half-an-hour late.

  “Good evening, boys,” he teased. Gideon tried to apologize for oversleeping, but his daed held up his hand. “Just get the stalls cleaned and hay tossed down in a timely manner, son,” he said. “Faith…” He hesitated before correcting himself. “Your mamm will have breakfast ready by seven. Don’t be tardy then, ja?”

  Manuel started to walk back to the house, pausing just long enough for Faith to catch up with him. They walked side-by-side through the breaking light of dawn toward the home, a comfortable silence between them.

  Inside, Faith quickly went about the task of preparing the breakfast for the family. My family, she corrected. Anna was the first to come down, greeting both Faith and her daed with a big happy smile. Without being asked, she started to set the kitchen table while Faith cooked at the stove. By the time Sadie and Mary emerged from upstairs, Ruthie in Mary’s arms, the kitchen was alive with the warm and enticing smell of breakfast. Manuel was sitting at the head of the table, enjoying another cup of hot coffee while perusing through the daily newspaper, which he had picked up while walking with Faith from the barn to the house.

  At this moment, Faith felt at peace with herself. She glanced around at the movement of morning, listening to the eggs sizzling in the pan and smelling the toast in the oven. Sadie was standing impatiently before Mary, letting her older sister brush her hair and twist it back over her ears into tiny rolls before pinning it at the nape of her neck. When Gideon and Benjamin finally joined the rest of the family, Faith was still standing at the stove, assessing what was now her own small family. She felt a moment of joy as though being washed over with a wave of happiness. In all of her life, she never would have thought this was possible: moving into the empty place that Rebecca, the nurturing and loving wife and mother, had so unexpectedly vacated. Not as the former Faith, the girl who wanted to learn as much as she could, who wanted to teach children in school, and who never had given much thought of having her own family.

  Despite all of that, she felt true bliss and, when Manuel looked up, folding the paper and setting it on the floor beneath his chair, she smiled at him. “Are you ready then?” she asked as she began to carry the plates of food over to the table.

  “Danke, Faith,” he said softly as she set the food before him. “It looks right gut.” He glanced around the table. “Shall we pray?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he lowered his head. The children did the same and Faith followed suit, shutting her eyes and saying a brief, silent prayer over the food.

  Please let me keep this family together and bless them with my love, she prayed. Please help me be a good mamm to these kinner and a strong partner for Manuel.

  When Manuel cleared his throat and looked up, the time for prayer was over and the food was passed around the table.

  “Seems like we have ourselves a busy weekend, ain’t so?” he said, his voice sounding strained and forced. Faith sensed it immediately. For the first time, they were sitting around the kitchen table as a family. Immediately, she knew that they were all battling with memories, memories of other breakfast meals shared with their mamm…their real mamm. Despite Faith having shared meals with the children before, it hadn’t been too often that Manuel had joined them, at least not for a family breakfast.

  Faith tried to sound normal, but she felt nervous inside. “What is planned for the weekend, Manuel?”

  He glanced at her and then quickly looked at each of his children. “Visiting on Saturday after chores. Have to visit family, Faith. Pay our respects to them. Then Sunday is church at the Zook’s.” He quickly clarified by adding “Aaron Zooks.”

  Visiting? Faith had heard about this custom, remembering it from when Rebecca was married. After the wedding, the couple was supposed to visit family on the weekends. She hadn’t given much thought to it, hadn’t considered that it would apply to a second wife. But then again, it made sense. The family wanted to properly welcome her as one of their own. It was the Amish version of a honeymoon.

  “I see,” she responded softly.

  She noticed that he peeked at her before bending his head back down to his breakfast. “They’ll be wanting to get to know you, Faith,” he said gently. “We all do.”

  We all do. His words resonated in her head. Was that what he thought? That he had married her but didn’t know her? She realized that, despite the amount of time that she had been at his farm, helping with the children, she didn’t know Manuel at all. It dawned on her that if her decision to step into the world of the Amish and to take over the raising of the children had seem brash, so was his to accept her into his home.

  You help Manny had been Rebecca’s last words. She had wanted this. She had directed Faith to step into this role, to raise her best friend’s children, and to help her best-friend’s husband. It had been her dying wish. A wish that was now irreversible.

  “Well,” Faith finally said, setting her fork down on her plate and staring directly at Manuel. “I reckon today is as good as any to start that process, yes?”

  He seemed surprised by how direct she spoke to him. Yet, it was clear that the kinn
er didn’t understand the underlying meaning.

  By the time that Faith had packed the lunch pails for the children and walked them outside, it was almost eight o’clock. She stood on the porch, watching as the five of them traipsed down the driveway toward the road, Benjamin doing his best to keep up with the others. At one point, Sadie turned around, shielding her eyes from the morning sun to see if Faith was still watching. When she saw that Faith still stood on the porch, Sadie waved her hand enthusiastically over her head.

  Faith laughed and waved back, leaning against the pole on the porch.

  “They love you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see Manuel standing behind her, his frame filling the open kitchen door. He stared at her, his eyes narrowed just a touch as if he was studying her again. He wore a sky blue shirt covered by his black work vest. His brown hair covered his ears in the typical Amish fashion. But there was something about him, something that made her heart skip a beat as he stood there, watching her.

  “I love them, too,” she finally whispered. And she meant it.

  “I wonder…” he said but stopped midsentence. For a moment, he kept staring at her, his eyes squinting, just a touch, as the sun was behind her. Then, without another word, he took a step forward and reached for Faith’s hand. His skin was warm and the gesture startled her. She wasn’t certain how to react but didn’t have time to think. He held it in his own and pulled her toward him, his eyes pausing to glance over her head to make certain the children were out of sight. Then, he looked down into her face and, with his free hand, slowly traced his finger along her cheek. “Mayhaps one day you will love me, too?”

  The way he was looking at her and the way that he held her against his body made her catch her breath. She felt as if he could see into her soul, glimpsing all of her thoughts and understanding everything that she was feeling. The gentle way that his finger brushed against her skin sent shivers up her spine and she had to look away, uncertain of how to respond. Oh, there were some things that she was starting to love about him, mostly things that revolved around the children. She just wished that she knew him in a way that would break down the barrier to true love, the type of spiritual love between husband and wife, between friends and partners in everything.