“Hank has a couple of beagle hounds, Amos and Griggs. I’m guessing the girls will enjoy playing with them.”
“Could be.”
Noah grimaced. Couldn’t Faith respond to anything he said with more than a few words? Didn’t she want to go to the tree farm, or was she just being quiet because the girls were chattering so loudly in the seat behind them that it was hard to make conversation over their voices?
Deciding it might be best to keep quiet for the rest of the trip, Noah concentrated on guiding the horse down the highway. A short time later, he pulled into the driveway of Osborns’ Christmas Tree Farm. He stopped in front of the hitching post Hank had built for Noah, got out, and headed around back to help the girls out. When they were safely on the ground, he turned to Faith, but she’d already climbed down.
He led the way, taking them into the area where the rows of Scotch and white pines had recently been sheared and shaped.
“Look at all the trees!” Melinda shouted as she ran down the lane. “I wish we could see them decorated for Christmas.”
“You can,” Noah called. “My boss’s wife, Sandy, has some artificial trees in her gift shop. We’ll stop in there after we’ve seen the real trees, and you can take a look.”
For the next hour, Noah showed Faith and the girls around the farm, explaining the procedure that began in the late winter months and continued up to harvest, shortly before Christmas the following year. From late December until early June, dead trees were cut down, and new ones were planted in their place. From the first of April all the way through summer, the grass around the seedlings had to be kept mowed. The larger trees were sheared and shaped during the summer months, and by fall, certain trees were selected to be sold to local lots and shipped to other markets farther away.
“By the first of November, we start cutting the trees; then they’re netted, packed, and ready for pickup on Thanksgiving weekend. The Christmas tree lots are usually open for business on the Friday after Thanksgiving,” Noah explained.
“Do all Englishers buy their trees from the lots?” Susie questioned.
Noah shook his head. “Some come out here and reserve their trees as soon as October, rather than going to a lot to pick out a tree.” He motioned to a group of nearby pines. “This place is really busy during the month of December, and many folks come back year after year to get a tree. Hank keeps his business operating on weekends until Thanksgiving; then it’s open daily for folks to come and get their trees and browse through the gift shop.”
“We put up a small tree in our hotel room last Christmas. Ain’t that right, Mama?” Melinda asked, giving the edge of her mother’s apron a tug.
“Yes, that’s right. We did have a tree.” Faith tweaked her daughter’s nose. “And it’s isn’t, not ain’t.”
“Mama told me yesterday there won’t be a tree in Grandma and Grandpa Stutzman’s house,” Melinda continued, making no mention of her mother’s grammatical correction.
“That’s right, Melinda. The Amish don’t celebrate Christmas by bringing a decorated tree into the house.” Noah motioned to the rustic barn nearby. “Now that we’ve seen the trees, we can go into the gift shop and take a look at all the things Sandy has for sale. After that, we’ll eat our picnic lunch.”
“Yippee!” the girls chorused.
Faith looked over at Noah. “I think you’ve made their day.”
“I hope you’re enjoying yourself, as well.”
She nodded. “It’s been quite interesting.”
When they entered the gift shop a few minutes later, they were greeted by both Hank and his wife, Sandy, a petite redhaired woman with brown eyes.
“Would you all like something to drink?” Sandy asked, once the introductions had been made.
“Maybe in a bit,” Noah replied. He turned to Faith. “How about you?”
“I’m fine for now, too.”
The girls, who seemed mesmerized by the artificial trees decorated with white twinkling lights, red balls, and brightly colored ornaments, darted around the room, checking each one out, while the adults found seats near the unlit, wood-burning stove.
“Did Noah explain how I run things here, while he showed you around the tree farm?” Hank asked, looking at Faith.
Faith nodded and bent to pet the Osborns’ two beagle hounds, Amos and Griggs. Griggs licked her hand, while Amos nudged her foot with a rubber ball he’d taken from a wicker basket near the front door. “It’s all quite impressive,” she said, tossing the ball for Amos while she continued to pet Griggs.
“I’m sure glad Noah came to work for me,” Hank continued. “He’s one of the best workers I’ve ever had.”
Noah’s face heated with embarrassment. “I enjoy working with the trees almost as much as I like baking,” he mumbled.
“And you’re as good a baker as you are a tree farmer.” Sandy smiled at Faith. “Noah often bakes some of his goodies for the customers who come into my shop. One of the things folks like best is his lemon sponge cake.”
Faith nodded but made no comment. It was obvious that her focus was on the dogs.
Hank stood and placed his hand on Noah’s shoulder. “If you’d like to come out to my workshop with me, I’ll show you my latest woodworking project.”
Noah nodded. “That’d be fine.” He glanced over at Faith to get her reaction, but she shrugged and threw the ball for Amos again.
“We’ll probably be ready for some apple cider and a few cookies when we get back,” Hank said, nodding at his wife.
“They’ll be ready whenever you are,” she replied.
As Noah followed Hank outside, he smiled at Melinda and Susie, who played under the trees with the other hound dog.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to eat or drink?” Sandy asked Faith.
“No, thanks, I’m fine.” Faith glanced around the shop, noticing all the gift items as well as the artificial trees. “This place must keep you plenty busy.”
“It does fill the lonely hours.” There was a tone of sadness in Sandy’s voice, and her downcast eyes revealed sorrow.
“Isn’t your husband around quite a bit? I would think with his business being near where you live, you would see him a lot.”
“Not really. Whenever Hank’s not working with his trees, he’s in his woodworking shop, making all sorts of things.”
“Things like the items you sell here?” Faith asked, gesturing with her hand to one of the birdhouses on a nearby shelf.
Sandy nodded. “He does make quite a few of the things, and I make peanut brittle, but others from the community keep me supplied with their homemade items, as well.”
“Do you get a lot of customers?”
“At certain times I do. Mostly around holidays like Mother’s Day and Valentine’s Day. Of course, Christmastime is especially busy, too.”
“I imagine it would be.”
“Do you make anything you might consider selling here in the store? I’m always looking for new items,” Sandy said.
“The only thing I’m good at is telling jokes and yodeling. Mama’s the expert baker and quilter in our house.”
“Yes, I knew you yodeled, because Hank and I were at one of your shows in Branson. The day Noah asked Hank if he could bring you and your daughter by our place, he mentioned that you’d given up your career and moved back home.” Sandy’s forehead wrinkled. “I was really surprised to hear that.”
Faith’s mouth went dry. She felt guilty every time someone mentioned her quitting her life as an entertainer and returning home. She didn’t feel at liberty to tell anyone that she was planning to leave again.
“When I was an entertainer, I dressed in a hillbilly costume,” she said, hoping to avoid the subject of why she’d returned home.
“That’s right, you were wearing a hillbilly costume the night we saw you.”
A vision of her performances flashed onto the screen of Faith’s mind. She saw herself onstage, dressed in a tattered blue skirt and a white pe
asant blouse. A straw hat, bent out of shape, was perched on top of her head, and she’d worn a pair of black tennis shoes with holes in the toes. The audience seemed to like her corny routine, for they’d laughed, cheered, and hollered for more.
“Yodeling sounds like fun. Is it hard to learn?” Sandy asked.
Faith shrugged. “Not for me it wasn’t. Ever since I was a little girl, I could whistle like a bird and trill my voice. When I went to town one day, I heard a woman yodeling on the radio at Baldy’s Café. After I got home, I headed straight for my secret place in the barn, where I knew I wasn’t likely to be disturbed.”
“Did you actually try to yodel right then, with no teacher?”
“I did, and much to my amazement, I didn’t sound half bad. After that, I practiced on my own every chance I got, but hearing the yodeler on the radio wasn’t my only contact with yodeling.”
“Oh?”
“A few others in our Swiss-Amish community like to yodel, but not to the extent that I do.” Faith bit down on her lower lip. “And no one but me has ever gone off and become an entertainer.”
“I’m surprised your family had no objections to your leaving home like that.”
“They objected all right. Even before I’d made my decision to leave home, they were always after me for acting silly and sneaking off to listen to country-western music.” Faith shook her head. “Papa called my yodeling ‘downright stupid’ and said it sounded like I was gargling or that I had something caught in my throat.”
Sandy reached over and patted Faith’s arm in a motherly fashion. “I guess it’s safe to say that with most parents, something about their children gets their dander up.” She glanced over her shoulder, and Faith did the same. Melinda and Susie were lying on the floor, with both dogs lying on their backs and getting their bellies rubbed. “I used to think that if I ever became a mother, I’d try to accept my kids just as they are.” She stared down at her hands. “Hank and I have been married almost ten years, and we recently found out that we can’t have any children. So I’ll never have the opportunity to try out my mothering skills.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Have you thought of adopting?”
Sandy shook her head. “Hank was pretty upset when he learned that I couldn’t give him any babies, and I doubt he would want to adopt.”
Faith was trying to think of what she could say to offer comfort, when the men returned to the gift shop.
“We’re ready for some refreshments now,” Hank said, smiling at Sandy.
She pushed her chair aside and stood. “I’ll have something served up in a jiffy.”
“I’ll help you.” Faith started to get up, but Sandy waved her aside. “I can manage. Why don’t you stay put and relax?”
Faith didn’t know whether to argue or take Sandy up on her suggestion, but when the hound dog Amos trotted over to her with the ball in his mouth, she decided to stay put.
Chapter 13
She likes pets, and so does her daughter, Noah thought, as he watched Faith chuck the ball across the room for Amos, while Melinda stroked Griggs behind his ear.
Sandy returned to the room a few minutes later with a tray of cookies, some of her peanut brittle, and a pitcher of cold apple cider. When she placed the tray down on a small table, the girls scampered over with expectant expressions.
“Are you two hungry?” Hank asked with a chuckle.
“Jah,” they said at the same time.
“Just don’t eat too much.” Faith shook her head. “Or you’ll spoil your appetites for the meal Noah’s made us.”
Susie grinned. “I’m always hungry, so it won’t matter how many cookies I eat.”
“Just the same, I don’t want you filling up on cookies when there’s a meal to be eaten.”
The girls each took two cookies and a glass of cider and then settled themselves on the floor again.
After visiting with Hank and his wife awhile and sampling some of Sandy’s delicious peanut brittle, Noah finally ushered his guests outside to one of the picnic tables. He opened the small cooler he’d packed that morning and spread the contents on the table. He had invited Hank and Sandy to join them, but they’d declined because of work they had to do.
“How do you expect us to eat all this food?” Faith asked when he placed a plate of golden fried chicken in front of her.
“Just eat what you can.” He added a jar of pickles, a plastic container full of coleslaw, a loaf of brown bread, and some baked beans.
They paused for silent prayer and then dug right in. Melinda and Susie ate two drumsticks apiece, and Faith devoured a thigh plus a large hunk of white meat. Noah was glad to see her eating so well. She was far too skinny to his way of thinking. He was also pleased to see how much Faith had relaxed. Either she was feeling more comfortable in his presence or her playtime with Hank’s hounds had done the trick. Noah figured he’d made some headway in befriending Faith. Now if he could only think of something to say that might give him an indication of whether she was planning to go back on the road again. He debated about asking her outright but decided that might put a sour note on the day. Besides, what if it wasn’t true? Maybe Faith’s mother had been wrong.
When the meal was over, Susie looked for wildflowers, while Melinda played with Amos and Griggs. Noah suggested that he and Faith sit on a quilt under a cluster of shady maples, as the afternoon had become hot and humid.
Faith leaned back on her elbows and stared up at the sky. “Sure is peaceful, isn’t it? I can see why you enjoy coming to work here every day.”
Noah nodded. “Working with the pine trees gives me much satisfaction.”
“How come you’re not married and raising a family by now?” she asked suddenly.
Noah’s ears burned, and the heat quickly spread to his face. “I. . .uh. . .don’t think I’m much of a catch.”
“I wasn’t much of a catch, either, but Greg married me.” Faith grimaced. “Of course, he never really loved me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Greg only wanted me because he thought I could make him rich.”
“And did you?”
“Not even close. I was doing pretty well for a while, but Greg spent most of our money on alcohol, and he gambled some.” Faith’s eyebrows furrowed, and she looked away. “I don’t know why I blurted all that out. I sure didn’t plan on it.”
“It’s not good to keep things bottled up.” He reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched and pulled away.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I—I get a little jumpy whenever someone touches me unexpectedly.” As Faith looked at Noah, he noticed tears in her eyes. “Greg had a mean streak and often took out his frustrations on me, but I’ve never admitted it to anyone until now.”
Noah’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You mean he was abusive?”
She nodded. “A few times he hit me but usually in places where it didn’t show.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. No man should ever strike a woman; it’s just not right.” Noah’s heart went out to Faith. He’d had no idea what life had been like for her in the English world.
“Greg did get me some good shows, and I felt that I needed him as my agent.” She squinted. “It’s not easy to find a good agent, you know.”
“Why would you want to go back to that way of living if it was so hard?”
“Who says I want to go back?”
Noah felt like slapping himself. He hadn’t meant to say that, and he surely couldn’t tell Faith what her mother had told his mother.
“I. . .uh. . .kind of got that impression by some of the things you’ve said about life as an entertainer. You mentioned that you missed it and all.”
Faith shrugged.
Noah decided to change the subject. “Remember that scripture verse I attached to the lemon sponge cake I gave you awhile back?”
She nodded slowly. “It had something to do with faith, right?”
“That’s correct
.”
“Faith might give some people high expectations when things are messed up in their lives, but to me, it’s nothing more than false hope.”
Noah couldn’t believe his ears. His own faith had grown so much over the last couple of years. He couldn’t imagine that anyone who had been taught to believe in God would think faith wasn’t real. “As I told you the other day at Baldy’s, faith is like a muscle, and it needs to be exercised in order to become strong.”
Faith looked uncomfortable as she shifted on the quilt, so Noah suggested they talk about something else.
“Okay.” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Say, did you hear about the elderly man who moved to a retirement home and hoped to make lots of new friends there?”
He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“The man met a lady, and they spent a lot of time together. Soon he realized he was in love with her, so he proposed marriage. But the day after the man proposed, he woke up and couldn’t remember what the woman’s answer was.”
“So what’d he do?”
“He went to her and said, ‘I’m so embarrassed. I proposed to you last night, but I can’t remember if you said yes or no.’” Faith tapped her fingers against her chin and rolled her eyes from side to side. “‘Oh, now I remember,’ the old woman quipped. ‘I said yes, but I couldn’t remember who asked me.’”
Noah chuckled. Faith was beginning to use her sense of humor again, which was a good thing. “That was a great story. Have you got another?” he asked.
She jiggled her eyebrows up and down. “Do bats fly at night?”
He grinned.
“Okay, here goes.” Faith drew in a deep breath. “You know, I never got used to driving a car when I lived among the English those ten years I was gone. Especially after I discovered what a motorist really is.”
“And what would that be?”
“A person who, after seeing a wreck, drives carefully for the next several blocks.”
Noah grinned. Faith could be a lot of fun when she had a mind to. He hoped they would have more opportunities to spend days like this.
“Tell me how you learned to bake such delicious goodies,” Faith said, changing the subject again. “I sure ate my share today.”
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