by Ruth Reid
“Strong drink not for you,” Georgette said as if reading her mind.
“I’ll keep that in mind tonight.” Faith snatched a piece of cheese off the tray and popped it in her mouth.
“I saw that.” Georgette wagged the knife.
Faith pushed out her bottom lip, then reached for another piece, but she pulled her hand back when Georgette looked up from slicing the block of cheddar.
“You eat whatever you want, darling,” she said, adding in a firm tone, “but wash your hands first.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Faith went to the sink and scrubbed her hands. “Do you know if the mail came today?”
“You ask me this every day. Same question always.”
Faith glanced over her shoulder. “Did it?”
“Nothing for you.” Georgette returned to her duties.
A lump formed in Faith’s throat. Since leaving Posen a few days shy of a month ago, she had written Gideon three times, but had yet to receive one reply. Had he forgotten today was her birthday? Perhaps he’d been busy. After all, October was one of his busiest months. Picking apples, making cider, taking the fruit to market, and all while preparing his other crops for winter. But if she’d been important to him, he would have found time to write even a short note. His silence had kept her awake nights, praying for him, her parents—both sets, and Olivia. Faith longed for news from home. She had to figure out a way to go back without disappointing Roslyn and Brandon.
“The guests will be arriving soon. You best go get ready for your party,” Georgette said.
Faith sniffled. “Do you need me for anything?”
“You go upstairs, take a hot bubble bath, and relax. Tonight is going to be very special.”
Faith nodded, then shuffled out of the room. The flurry of activity outside of the kitchen was even more chaotic. Workers were placing flower arrangements, decorating indoor trees with white lights, and setting up tables. It was all too fancy, too much. She slipped up the stairs. Perhaps Georgette was right, a hot bath might help her relax. But it made her too relaxed. The only time she had ever napped during this time of the day was when she was down with the flu. But today when she crawled between the satin sheets, she fell asleep immediately. She might have slept all night had someone not knocked on her door.
“I’m Candice and I’m here to help you get ready for the party,” the woman said, holding up what looked like a tackle box. “Hair and makeup.”
Surely the woman with the two-toned, black with bleached tips crewcut wasn’t going to change Faith’s hair. “I’ve already had mei hair cut. This is as short as I want to go.”
The woman chuckled. “I’m only styling your hair and doing your makeup.”
Faith hesitated, but finally let her in.
Candice scanned the room much like Faith did the first time. “If you want to change into the dress you’ll be wearing, then we can get started.”
“Okay.” Faith went into the closet and carefully removed the royal-blue gown from the protective covering the store had sent it home in. She wiggled into the formfitting fabric, her stomach knotting with nerves. This party, the social event of the year, as Roslyn called it, was in Faith’s honor—or rather Adriana’s. Her Englisch mother’s way of introducing her to the world. Faith wasn’t sure what to expect, and as the time ticked closer, the more she wanted to stay hidden in her room.
“That’s a beautiful dress,” Candice said, displaying the makeup products on the bathroom counter.
“Thank you.” Faith brushed her hands over the smooth fabric. “I’ve never worn anything like it.”
Candice pulled the vanity chair out and motioned for Faith to sit in front of the mirror. She rolled Faith’s hair with hot rollers, then as they were cooling, she started on the makeup.
“I’m using a medium foundation and a peachy blush.”
Faith wasn’t sure what any of it meant. She had seen Olivia wearing makeup before, but had pretended not to notice. Now she was doing the things she had condemned her sister for. She closed her eyes as Candice brushed makeup over her eyelids. Her thoughts drifted to her family. She had missed Olivia’s birthday last month, and today was her own. Faith pushed those thoughts aside. “Can I open mei eyes?”
“Almost.” Candice applied something waxy to Faith’s lips.
“Okay, you can look.”
Faith opened her eyes and stared in disbelief.
“Do you like it?”
“Jah, I do.”
Candice unrolled her hair, and the ringlets bounced up at least an inch. Her hair no longer rested on her shoulders, but was the shortest it had ever been.
“Well, what do you think?”
Faith stared at the mirror. She touched the springy, soft curl and smiled. “I feel like a different person—a phony.”
“Okay if I spray it down?”
“Whatever you think.” Faith closed her eyes and held her breath as Candice sprayed her hair with hair spray. “I hope you have an enjoyable evening,” she said, capping the can. She began packing up her equipment, then when she had everything put away, she handed Faith a business card.
“In case you have another event,” she said. “Or if you want someone to teach you how to apply your own makeup.”
“Thank you.” Faith slipped the card into the vanity drawer. “I don’t usually wear makeup or do anything to my hair, but I’ll let you know if an occasion comes up.”
Candice nodded. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. I’ll see myself out.” She left the room.
Faith practiced walking in the shoes Roslyn had picked out. Her legs wobbled in the heels, but she liked being taller. She would even tower over Gideon at this height.
Sometime later, she heard a knock on the bedroom door. “The guests are arriving,” Georgette said. “Are you almost ready?”
“Jah, almost.” Faith opened the door.
“You look like a princess.”
“I’m nervous.” Faith chewed the corner of her nail, chipping the polish.
“You don’t need to be. Think of them as your friends.”
“You’ll be there, right?”
“I no work tonight. Mrs. Colepepper no want me in caterer’s way. You tell me about big party tomorrow, yes?”
Faith nodded.
“Now, shoulders straight and smile.”
Faith sucked in a deep breath, turned side to side in the mirror one last time, then headed down the hall with Georgette. But once they reached the staircase, Georgette stayed behind, shooing her with her hand.
Chattering voices and clinking glasses mingled with soft piano music, which reminded Faith of falling raindrops.
As she reached the landing, Roslyn and Brandon flanked her, Roslyn wearing a black sequined gown and Brandon wearing a black suit and tie. She hadn’t even greeted her Englisch parents before people started snapping pictures, flashing strobes of light firing every second.
Faith turned her face and leaned into Brandon’s shoulder. No one said anything about pictures.
“Please, everyone,” Roslyn said, lifting her hand. “If you could refrain from taking pictures until introductions are made, I promise, we will pose for a family photo before the evening ends.”
Faith cringed. Tell them it’s wrong. Tell them you don’t believe in having photographs taken.
“As most of you know, our daughter, Adriana, was stolen from us fifteen years ago. She’s why I started the Adriana Hope Foundation. Why I believe strongly in providing financial resources, tools, and education for helping to recover missing children. Most of you have heard me say that roughly eight hundred thousand children go missing each year. That’s two thousand children a day. Many of those cases are unsolved. Many of those parents will never hold their child in their arms again.” Roslyn’s voice cracked. She looked at Faith, then at her husband, tears gleaming in her eyes. “Brandon, will you—”
“What I think my wife is trying to say is that life is precious. It’s not guaranteed. One moment you can be loading
your groceries in the trunk of your car and then the next you’re watching a stolen car being lifted from Lake Huron, hoping and praying your child isn’t in the vehicle. Roslyn has dedicated—made her life’s mission finding missing children. And in her steadfast diligence, she’s helped recover hundreds . . . and most importantly to me, she found our daughter.” He glanced at Faith. “Everyone, Roslyn and I would like to introduce you to our daughter, Adriana Colepepper!”
Clapping hands echoed across the room as the audience welcomed her home. Faith brushed the tears from her face, her makeup coming off on her hand. Roslyn and Brandon had shared the story with her before about the nanny stealing the car and later it going over the bridge. How years later, computer reenactment helped determine Faith wasn’t in the car. And how Roslyn spared no expense in plastering billboards along the interstate.
“Roslyn, can we get a picture for the Detroit News,” a reporter called.
Roslyn laughed. “For you, my friend, we’ll stand here posing until tomorrow.”
Strobes fired, temporarily blinding Faith with rings of bright lights. More people called out to look to the right, to the left. It was all too much.
You shall not make for yourself any graven image . . . Instructions she had heard and obeyed since childhood bombarded her thoughts.
Faith leaned toward Roslyn. “Would it be okay if I use the restroom?”
“Of course it is, darling.”
Faith fled through the crowd before it crossed her mind she should have gone upstairs. The landing was full of people, all wanting to know more about how Roslyn and Brandon found their missing daughter. She crossed the room, passed by an ice sculpture she recognized as her infant picture on the billboard, and ran into Agent Sanderson.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“The party is a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
Faith nodded, then asked, “How are mei parents?”
The agent’s gaze flitted to Roslyn and Brandon.
“Nay, mei Amish parents. I heard you were investigating them.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the case,” he said.
“Why? It’s about me.”
The crowd spread as Roslyn crossed the room to join them. “Agent Sanderson, I’m glad you were able to join us.”
“It’s always a blessing when a cold case is closed for good.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She motioned to the fountain of bubbling champagne. “Would you care for a glass of champagne or a drink from the bar?”
“No, thank you. I just stopped for a few minutes.” He turned to Faith. “If I don’t see you again, good luck with everything.”
“Thank you.” Faith darted away. She found solitude in Brandon’s office. It didn’t matter how hard she cried, the crowd’s laughter would drown out her voice. It felt good to sit in the dark, to be alone. But it wasn’t too long before the door opened and a tall figure entered the room and flipped on the light.
“Adriana? What are you doing sitting in the dark?” Uncle Leon motioned to the sofa. “May I sit with you?”
Faith nodded. She’d been introduced to Roslyn’s older brother at a family dinner the first week after she arrived.
“Do you want to talk about why you’re crying?”
She shrugged. Hunter, Chrisla’s son, had said Uncle Leon played with people’s heads. She wasn’t interested in playing mind games. Faith had learned over the past month that when Kendra Hammond, the police psychologist, called to check on her progress to say what people wanted to hear—Yes, she was adjusting. The Colepeppers were treating her fine, and yes, she had everything she needed—because no one really wanted to know her concerns. Every time she asked about her parents, the subject was changed.
“Why don’t you start by telling me about being Amish,” he said. “I’ve done some reading about the Amish since I met you, and I’d like to learn more.”
“What do you want know?”
“Tell me about your typical day and what you did for fun.”
“Mei daed and I were the first ones up in the morning. He milked the cows and I collected the eggs. Then I went into town. Mei par—”
“It’s okay,” he said calmly. “They were your parents for fifteen years, and from what I’ve seen, they did a fine job raising you.”
Faith’s eyes clouded with tears. “I think so too.” She sucked in a breath and released it slowly. “Mei parents own a restaurant, and I bake the bread every morning, or I did. After work, we ate supper together and had Bible devotions.”
“And for fun?”
“There’s plenty to do that’s fun. We have regular sewing bees, and gardening—lots to do in the garden. I went fishing sometimes. Even caught the largest a few times.”
“That all sounds like fun.”
Faith nodded, unable to push down the lump in her throat.
“Why are you in here alone?”
She shrugged. “This isn’t mei kind of gathering. I’m used to barn raisings and getting together for meals after Sunday services. Not anything fancy like tonight.” She didn’t know why she was telling him all of this, but Georgette wasn’t around to talk to. “And today’s mei birthday. I was sort of expecting a card or letter from back home.”
The door opened and Roslyn poked her head inside. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you, Adriana. There’re some people I want to introduce you to.”
Uncle Leon cleared his throat. “Will you give us another minute or two?”
“Okay, but please don’t stay in here long. This is her welcoming home party.” Roslyn closed the door.
“Did you tell Brandon and Roslyn that you celebrate your birthday on this day?”
“Nay, why?”
“Because this isn’t your birthday. You were born in March.”
She lowered her head. Another lie.
“I would like to talk with you again. Would you like that too?”
At least he seemed more open and eager to listen to her talk about growing up Amish. “I suppose so.”
“Great. I’m going to recommend to your mother that we start counseling. You need to be able to express your feelings and talk about your Amish upbringing. I understand how difficult it must be to walk away from that lifestyle.”
“Roslyn thinks I was in a cult. Do you?”
The following month Faith nervously sat in the chair across from Uncle Leon’s desk as Roslyn waited in the lobby.
A red-haired man wearing a wool coat and carrying an umbrella entered the room. “Your uncle was called away unexpectedly,” he said, removing the overcoat. “I’ve been assigned to talk with you in his absence.” He sat behind the desk. “I understand you were raised Amish.”
Faith wrung her hands. At the welcome home party she thought she’d made a connection with her uncle, but that had been a month ago. Now she wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Without saying why, Roslyn had been leery of her attending counseling sessions. Perhaps it had something to do with what Brandon had told her about Roslyn’s nervous breakdown. This morning she looked forward to talking with her uncle more, but talking to a stranger . . . ? That wouldn’t be easy. “Should I kumm back at a better time? I don’t mind changing mei appointment.”
Kindness shone in his emerald-green eyes. “That’s nett necessary. I’m familiar with your raising up.”
“Ach! How wunderbaar you speak Pennsylvania Deitsch.”
“Jah. How are you?”
“I’m gut, danki.” Thrilled to finally find someone who would truly understand her struggle, Faith sat on the edge of her seat, eager to talk.
“Tell me what’s troubling you, child.”
Faith exhaled. Where should she start? “I feel like a sheep that’s lost mei way.” She motioned to her jeans. “I wear these Englisch clothes, cut mei hair—nett for mei vanity, nay. I did it to appease mei birth mamm.” She lowered her head. “Lecherich, jah?”
“No, it’s not ridiculous. God sees your heart. I know what you’ve been taught.
Modern conveniences, fancy clothing, all inspire worldliness and, while it’s true it might inflate one’s mind with pridefulness and keep you from being with God, God also sees your brokenness. He sees your difficulty. He’s pleased with you, Faith. Don’t let your mind tell you otherwise.”
Faith sank into the cushioned sofa, her muscles relaxing. “I don’t even have mei Bible with me to read. How can He be pleased with me?”
“Oh, child. You placed His words upon your heart long ago and committed them to memory. You are nett without His promises. He is with you always. His Spirit will lead you with instruction. Lift your hope higher in the One who has called you by name. For it is written: ‘Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear.’” He paused. “So you see, child, God’s mercy is abiding. His love is everlasting.”
Faith sniffled.
“‘The Lord Himself goes before you; He will never leave nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.’ Will you take these words to heart?”
Faith nodded.
He folded his hands on the desk, giving her time to dry her tears. “Nau, what else do you wish to talk about?”
As Faith unloaded her burdens about how she had planned to get baptized and join the church, how she’d fallen in love with a good Amish man that one day she wished to marry, and how she always planned to work at the restaurant, somehow her soul felt restored. They talked longer than her scheduled time, and speaking in Pennsylvania Deitsch, she didn’t have to guard her words knowing Roslyn was waiting in the lobby outside the door.
“Will I see you again?” she asked when it was time to go.
“I’m sure you will.”
Faith smiled. Her uncle being called away was divine intervention—or so she liked to believe.
Roslyn wasn’t in the lobby when Faith left the office. She noticed the women’s restroom and pushed open the door. But the conversation she overheard stopped her in her tracks. Roslyn was on the phone with someone.
“I want to know if the nanny had an Amish background. She had to know them somehow. Yes, I know. But I think it’s time to press charges. They stole my child. I want them punished.”