Amish Faith: An Amish Christian Romance

by Sarah Price

  She took a deep breath and slowly withdrew her hand from Manuel’s. She certainly didn’t want the children to see her being in such an intimate embrace with their father. It simply wasn’t proper.

  “Ja, vell then,” he said, his eyes darting away from Faith’s as he took a step back and reached down to pick up Ruthie. Gently flipping the baby around so that her padded bottom rested in the crook of his arm, Manuel sighed and glanced toward the kitchen. “Must be time for afternoon chores, I reckon.”

  “Must be,” she said softly, her heart pounding inside of her chest. She wondered what he had been about to say. The look in his eyes had spoken of something deep and thoughtful. She wished that she had shared a few more minutes alone with as she knew that such time wouldn’t come again until the following Monday when the kinner would return to school. Of course, there would be time alone later that evening and, at the thought, she felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

  We can wait.

  She knew, however, that he had not been referring to the curds. He had, indeed, been referring to their relationship. There was something exciting about his approach to their marriage. He wasn’t rushing her and for that, she was grateful. Yet, she found that she was beginning to long for more time alone with Manuel. Regardless of her true feelings for him, she knew that he was her husband for the rest of her life. Having seen a new side of him, a side that she realized he had held back from her until they were officially wed, she wanted to know more about him. To spend private time with him.

  He held Ruthie while leaning over, his lips just beside her ear as he whispered, “We’ll continue this later, ja?” Without waiting for an answer, he carried Ruthie into the kitchen and greeted the other children.

  “Oh Faith!” Anna sang as she hurried into the washroom. “I mean Mamm,” she quickly corrected, laughing at herself. “You’re making cheese! How wunderbaar!” She lifted the lid of the pot and raised an eyebrow. “Why, that looks right perfect!” Clearly, she was impressed. “Did you ever make it with my mamm?”

  The question surprised Faith. “Why no, I didn’t,” she responded. “But your daed helped me, to be truthful.”

  “My daed?” She laughed at the thought. “I never saw him making cheese before!”

  Anna quickly began to take charge, helping Faith drain the whey when it was ready, and then, after washing her hands, showing her how to crumble the curds and salt them. Afterwards, Anna disappeared into the pantry and came back with two molds, showing Faith how to line the molds with cheese cloth and place the curds inside.

  “Now we just need the presses and that’s it until later tonight,” Anna said proudly. “I can’t wait. Haven’t had fresh cheese in a while.”

  “Well,” Faith said, uncertain that those soft white curds would amount to much. “I have to trust you on that one.”

  When the door opened, Manuel walked in with Gideon trailing behind him. Both were carrying large wooden apparatuses. Each was made of three pieces of wood: a base, a back, and a long, wooden lever that was resting on the base, forming a triangle. There were V-shaped notches in the lever. They were stained a dark brown, although one looked older than the other, with scratches and chips all over the wood. Manuel set his on the counter by the sink and reached for Gideon’s to do the same.

  “What in the world is that?” Faith exclaimed.

  Manuel tried to hide his smile as Anna looked at her, not really surprised that Faith didn’t know what she was looking at. “Those are cheese presses. Haven’t you seen them before?”

  Truth be told, Faith had no idea what a cheese press was or what it was for.

  Anna clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes as she quickly showed Faith how to place the plastic mold with the cheese curds on the base. “Gideon,” she said, pointing toward the pantry. “Go get those jugs of water right quick.” Turning back to Faith, Anna explained. “We hang the jugs on this here lever and place a wedge in the notches so that it puts pressure on the mold. That pushes the excess water out of the curds and, eventually, they harden into a nice round of cheese.” As if on cue, Gideon returned with the two jugs of water and handed them to Anna. She lifted them up and looped the string from the handle to the lever.

  “Why, isn’t that clever!” Faith said, amazed at the ingenuity.

  Manuel laughed, not able to contain himself anymore. “Clever today, ja,” he said. “But burdensome when you are making cheese every day.”

  Every day? She looked at him, stunned by this proclamation. Was she truly supposed to do this every day? He winked at her and placed his hand on Gideon’s shoulder, guiding his son toward the door of the washroom. They were still chuckling as they left the house, heading toward the barn.

  Faith turned back to Anna. “Did your daed say every day?”

  “Ja,” she nodded before quickly adding, “But not on Sunday, of course.”

  “Every day?” She was still hung up on the concept of having to do that every day.

  Even Anna had to laugh. “It’s not that much work and we sell the excess to neighbors or the Englische. They pay top dollar for home-made Amish cheese.”

  “They do, do they?”

  “Oh ja!” Anna wiped her hands on her black apron. “We used to make it every day, too,” she said. “Mamm would vacuum seal it and store it in the freezer, the one Daed has in the garage. Then, come spring, we’d sell it from Lydia’s house. She always has a busy stand because of the road she’s on.”

  “I see.” Faith was impressed with Anna’s business acumen, despite only being twelve years old.

  She loved visiting the Yoder house. The kitchen was the heart of the home and it was always filled with wonderful smells and special treats. Rebecca’s mamm usually had fresh baked bread on wire cooling racks near the window and plastic Tupperware filled to the rim with the world’s best sugar cookies. Without fail, Faith would follow Rebecca into the kitchen and a sugar cookie would find its way into her hand.

  “Just one,” Rebecca’s mamm would say. “Can’t have you spoiling your supper now.”

  One day, when Faith was getting ready to leave for home, Rebecca’s mamm said something in Pennsylvania Dutch to her daughter. Immediately, Rebecca scurried to the propane-powered refrigerator and pulled out a large chunk of something, sealed in yellow wax. She grinned as she handed it to Faith. “I made this,” Rebecca said.

  “What is it?” Faith took it and turned it over in her hands. “Wax?”

  Rebecca laughed and her mamm had to turn away to hide the twisting of her mouth at Faith’s comment. “No, you goose! It’s cheese!”

  “Cheese?” Faith had never thought much about making cheese. In her household, cheese was bought at the store, not made in the kitchen. “Wow, Rebecca, I’m impressed.”

  “Mamm says you should take that home for your folks.” There was an element of pride in her voice. “It’s gut to share, ja?”

  “Why would you make cheese?” Faith asked innocently. She was still lingering on the vision in her head of her friend not only knowing how to make cheese but in being so happy to do so. “Is it hard?”

  “Nee,” Rebecca said. “Mayhaps I’ll show you one day. We can make it together.” She glanced over her shoulder at her mamm. “Right mamm?”

  Faith carried her yellow wax block of cheese in her hand the entire way home, determined to ask her mother if Mennonites knew how to make cheese at home. By the time she arrived home and handed her mother the cheese, it was time for evening chores. Faith forgot to ask her mother about Mennonites and cheese making. And, before long, both Rebecca and Faith forgot to spend a day in the kitchen, huddled over a large steel pot filled with milk, in order to learn the special process of how to make cheese.

  Supper was over and the kitchen had been cleaned. With the three girls helping her, Faith found it was very easy to keep everything tidy. They were willing to help, if properly directed. With the sun setting earlier, the sky was dark and Manuel lit the propane lantern. As the flame from the match touch
ed the duct at the top of the lantern, a gentle hiss escaped and a bright glow of light brightened the room. Faith had learned long ago to never look at the flame. To do so meant seeing flashes of light for at least five minutes.

  She watched as Manuel picked up a newspaper, The Budget, and sat down in his reading chair to peruse the news of the Amish communities around the country.

  Faith wasn’t certain about what to do. At home, she would have read a book or sat at the kitchen table talking with her mother. With the kitchen back in order, Faith had nothing else to do for the evening. She chewed on her lower lip, looking around the kitchen, willing something…anything…to jump at her that needed attention. There was just nothing else to do.

  Lingering near the hutch behind the kitchen table, Faith sighed and reached for the Ausbund, the version that Manuel had given to her. She pulled the two volumes from the shelf and walked over to the sofa. She chose the first volume and flipped it open to where she had left a crocheted bookmark, one that Lydia had taught her how to make during her time living at that farm. Lydia had been most resourceful, teaching Faith many different things during the evenings. Faith made a mental note to send her a card of appreciation with a crocheted dishcloth of her own making.

  “What are you reading, then?”

  She looked up, startled at his attention. “Hmm?”

  He gestured with his head to the book in her hand. “You are reading the Ausbund, ja? Which verse, Faith?”

  Her heart fluttered as she saw him fold the paper and set it neatly on the table next to his chair. He stood up and took two steps to cross the space between them. “Oh, I…well, I thought I would start with this verse…” She pointed to the page. “I like the words.”

  He smiled as his eyes glanced at the left hand side of the page, the page printed in High German. “Ja,” he said, obviously pleased with her selection. “I like that one, too.”

  She didn’t know what to say in response.

  “Shall I teach you the German words, then?”

  Oh, she thought. When he had given her the books so many weeks ago, he had mentioned that he would do that, teach her the German pronunciation for the different verses in the Ausbund. Shyly, she nodded her head. “That would be nice, Manuel.”

  The kinner sat on the chair that Manuel had abandoned, the five of them crowding around each other and hanging off the arms. Benjamin sat on Anna’s lap, laughing as Manuel patiently tried to teach Faith the proper way to speak High German. “This looks like an F but it’s pronounced with an essh sound,” he explained.

  “That seems silly,” she said. “Why don’t they just use an S then?”

  Sadie and Benjamin giggled and even Mary had to hide her smile. Indeed, it was a show for the children and, with a twinkle in his eye, Manuel played along. “Mayhaps you are right! We shall ask the bishop to change so many years of tradition and rewrite the Ausbund with an S for the F!” At this, even Anna burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand.

  The lesson continued, Manuel leaning over Faith’s shoulder, his arm pointing to the words as he said them, waiting patiently for Faith to repeat them. When she struggled with the word, he said it again, slowly enunciating each syllable. They went through a line at a time, making it through the first two verses in thirty minutes. When they finished, Manuel smiled his approval. “Dat ist gut, my fraa,” he said, teasingly calling her the Pennsylvania Dutch word for “wife”, the word rolling off his tongue easily for the first time. “Soon you will be singing in church with the rest of us, ja?”

  “Oh I’m not so sure about that,” she countered but then quickly added, “Unless you have a lot of patience teaching me.”

  He tilted his head and met her gaze, giving a single nod of his head. “I have patience, ja,” he replied, his voice low and soft.

  Too aware that the children were watching and feeling too much heat from Manuel’s gaze, Faith gently reached for the books, taking them back from Manuel. “I reckon that’s enough for one night, yes?” She stood up and replaced the books on the shelf before glancing at the clock. “And I suspect it should be time for bed soon.”

  Benjamin and Sadie groaned but only momentarily for both Anna and Manuel shot them a look, a look that told them to be quiet and not sass their new mamm. Within twenty minutes, the kinner had retreated upstairs and, after checking on Ruthie, Faith found herself, once again, alone with Manuel. She walked to the kitchen sink and fussed with the faucet, glancing once over her shoulder at him as he sat back in his chair with The Budget.

  “Would you like some coffee or something?” she asked, trying to break the ice.

  He looked up and peered at her. “Nee, but danke,” he answered before taking a deep breath and folding the paper. “Reckon I should follow your advice, Faith. We do have a long day tomorrow with visiting family and all.” Once again, he stood up and waited by the lantern, pausing for just a moment before reaching as if to turn it off. “You get started to the room, then,” he said before quickly adding. “I’ll join you shortly.”

  She nodded and walked across the floor, her heart fluttering as she did. She felt the same apprehension as the previous evening when Manuel had announced that it was time to retire. Would he expect something from her tonight? Was she ready for such intimacy? Her heart pounded inside of her chest as she changed from her clothing, carefully putting them on the hanger before hanging them on the pegs that hung from the wall. It only took her a few minutes to change into her nightgown, a simple white gown of soft cotton. She had set her prayer kapp on the dresser and was brushing her hair when he entered.

  The light from the lantern cast a soft, orange glow throughout the room. Shadows danced upon the walls. Nervously, she turned to face him, realizing that he was going to undress in front of her. She glanced at the floor as she averted her eyes, too aware that she had never seen a man without clothing. The previous evening, he had retired first and, when she had entered the room, he had already been in bed, his back to her, giving her much needed privacy.

  “I…I can leave the room,” she whispered demurely.

  “Nee,” he replied, a catch in his voice. “It’s alright. You are my wife, ja?”

  As if she needed a reminder. It was what she had been thinking about all day, butterflies in her stomach at the realization. Instead, Faith nodded and started to walk to her side of the bed. As she passed him, she felt his hand on her arm, holding her back. Another flutter in her chest and she lifted her eyes to look into his face.

  To her surprise, he reached out and touched her cheek, his fingers just lightly brushing against her skin before traveling to her loose hair. It was long and hung over her shoulders, almost straight save from the wave that had occurred from having it wrapped in a bun all day. He didn’t speak, just stared at her as he quietly played with her hair, letting it slip through his fingers. His eyes moved, just momentarily, as he glanced at her nightgown and she thought she saw his cheeks redden. She was certain that hers did, too.

  “It was a gut day, ja?” he whispered.

  She nodded.

  “You are happy enough?”

  Happy enough? She wondered what he meant. “I am happy, yes,” she replied.

  He leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers. “That is enough for tonight, then, ja?” And with that, he released her and walked toward his side of the bed, removing his suspenders before he took off his shirt and hung it on the wall. She turned her back, wondering at his words, why he had said that, but understanding, at the same time, that he was expecting nothing from her once again. This time, there was a mixture of confusion with her wave of relief.

  Chapter Twelve

  She sat in the living room on the sofa next to Manuel. The room was quiet except for the creaking of the rocking chair and the ticking of the clock on the wall. When they had entered the house, Faith had immediately been taken aback by how sparse everything was. The kitchen was pristine, nary an object on the counter and the table covered in a very simple green and
white checkered tablecloth. The white linoleum floor, so typical in the Amish homes, reflected the light from the propane lantern. There were no curtains on the windows, no magnets on the refrigerator. It was sparse and plain, more so than Faith had ever seen at any other Amish house.

  It was the third family that they had visited during the late afternoon hours. Just as she had at the other houses, Faith felt awkward, her hands clasped on her lap and her hip just lightly touching Manuel’s. His aunt and uncle stared at them from their respective chairs, the aunt rocking back and forth on an old wooden rocker.

  “You getting on well then, ja?” the uncle finally said stiffly as he stared at Faith with dark eyes. His long, grey beard touched the second button of his white shirt. “Farm work not too much for you?”

  Faith cleared her throat, wishing that Manuel would speak up. When he didn’t, she finally responded with a simple response. “My father was a farmer so I’m used to rising early and greeting the sun.” She tried to sound cheerful and upbeat when she responded but wasn’t certain if that was the right thing to do. Most Amish women tended to be more subdued and quiet. Fidgeting beside Manuel, she wished that he would guide her in how to interact with his family members.

  “I see,” the uncle said. “What about your other bruders and schwesters?”

  Faith hesitated, knowing that her response would sound awkward to an Amish man, a man used to large families with upwards of ten children on average. “I’m an only child.”

  The aunt caught her breath and stopped rocking her chair. Leaning forward, she stared hard at Faith. “And your parents are Mennonite?” She looked at her husband. “A Mennonite farmer with only one child?” She shook her head, the too familiar tsk-tsk escaping her lips.