An Amish Holiday Wedding

by Carrie Lighte

  “I always clean my plate,” Andy happily informed him. “Especially today. Today we get to have wedding cake after dinner.”

  “I’m looking forward to that,” Hunter commented. “I heard your ant Faith made it, and everything she bakes is appenditlich.”

  “Jah, but it’s not her wedding cake. It’s for Penelope and Lawrence. They have to share,” Andy carefully explained. “Ant Faith doesn’t want to get married. She told mamm she’s not ’mantically interested in—”

  “Look!” Faith interrupted, taking Andy by the hand. “Here comes your daed. He’s been searching for you.”

  As Reuben approached the trio, Andy ducked behind Faith’s skirt.

  “There’s no use hiding, Andy,” Reuben scolded. “You’ve already been disobedient, running away like you did. I’m afraid there will be no wedding cake for you.”

  The boy’s eyes immediately welled but he nodded sadly, as if to accept his punishment.

  “He gave us a fright when we couldn’t find him, it’s true,” Faith intervened. “But I don’t think he meant to. I think he was stretching his legs after sitting so still through the entire service. I’m sure he won’t run away again, will you, Andy?”

  “No, never,” Andy agreed. “I’m sorry I gave you a fright, Daed.”

  Reuben paused before tousling the boy’s hair. “You’re forgiven, suh. I suppose your running about like that made you extra hungry, so you may have a piece of wedding cake after all. Kumme, let’s go back inside.”

  Faith and Andy led the way, with Hunter and Reuben following. As they walked toward the house, Reuben confided, “One of the challenges of being a daed is knowing when to show grace and when to stand firm for the kinner’s sake.”

  “It seems today you’ve made the right decision,” Hunter responded.

  “The doubts linger,” Reuben replied. “If you have kinner one day, you’ll know what I mean. Being a daed is difficult work.”

  Hunter thought of the grace and forgiveness his father had shown him throughout his life. Considering his own behavior, especially during his Rumspringa years, he knew it must not have always been easy for his father, and suddenly a great loneliness washed over him.

  “Being a daed is definitely a weighty responsibility,” he affirmed. Then, remembering what his father said to him right before he died, he added, “But I’m told it’s one of life’s greatest blessings.”

  “No doubt about that,” Reuben agreed.

  * * *

  Faith felt like crying. It wasn’t that she had any abiding heartache because Lawrence rejected her and married Penelope. Nor was it because, halfway through the sermon, Faith realized in her haste to get ready, she’d grabbed her baking apron instead of a clean one to wear over her dress. As disheveled as she felt, that wasn’t nearly enough to reduce her to tears, either. Nor did she cry out when Andy accidentally hopped on her big toe with the heel of his boot right before he took off across the lawn.

  No, it was Hunter’s statement about fatherhood being a blessing unlike any other that crushed her spirit. Until she heard him make that comment, Faith hadn’t realized the extent of her affection for him. Without fully being aware of it, she must have allowed Henrietta’s fanciful imaginings about their walking out together go to her head, because lately Faith had been entertaining notions that perhaps, just perhaps, her relationship with Hunter might develop from that of business partners and friends into a more personal connection.

  But what sense was there in daydreaming about a romance with Hunter when he hadn’t given the slightest indication he was interested in courting her? As she’d explained to Willa, Hunter was only in Willow Creek temporarily until Ruth’s fractures healed. Even if Willa was right and Hunter developed a reason to settle in Pennsylvania permanently, Faith couldn’t consider him as a suitor, knowing what she did about her health condition. Hunter made it clear long ago that he wouldn’t court anyone he didn’t intend to marry. And now, Hunter made it clear he wanted children, too. Why wouldn’t he want them? It was only natural; Faith couldn’t fault him for that. But neither could she continue to kid herself: Hunter was helping her save her business and that was all. She needed to squelch her unrealistic romantic yearnings.

  But that was easier said than done when she was surrounded by people extolling the virtues of marriage. She was as sociable and courteous as she could be, but after several hours her cheeks ached from plastering a smile across her face. Seeking to leave with Henrietta and Reuben when they took the boys home, she poked her head into the kitchen in search of her sister-in-law.

  “Faith, those cakes you made are as scrumptious as they are beautiful,” Doris Plank gushed. “You have a real talent.”

  “Denki,” Faith replied, relieved that everyone seemed to be enjoying her confections.

  “Don’t you worry, your turn will come soon enough,” Doris continued. “Look at me—I was well into my thirties when I married, and now here I am with a bobbel in my arms! You’ve got plenty of time, doesn’t she, Collette?”

  “Jah,” replied Collette Mast, one of Henrietta’s friends. “Your sister-in-law frets about your future, but I tell her anyone who can bake like you do will make an excellent wife.”

  Mortified that Henrietta had been discussing her fears about Faith’s lack of suitors with Collette Mast, Faith quickly excused herself and walked outside toward the barn where the other single people were gathering before the second meal. It was an Amish tradition for the bride and groom or another married couple to pair young male guests with young female guests. The couples were expected to sit together and converse during the informal supper that occurred in the early evening. As she wove through the crowd, Faith spotted Mason speaking with Katie Fisher, so she asked him if he’d seen Reuben, Henrietta and the children.

  “They already left,” Mason told her. “Henrietta suggested you might like to stay and socialize, since you’ve been working such long hours. I told her you could ride with Katie and me if no one else offers to take you home. But Penelope’s already started the matchmaking, so perhaps she’ll pair you with someone who has a courting buggy.”

  Faith rubbed her forehead in disgrace. Her brother’s halfhearted offer of transportation home was embarrassing enough, but now she’d also have to endure the humiliation of Lawrence’s bride matching her with a man she deemed suitable? Faith silently considered walking to the nearest phone shanty and calling a cab. It would almost be worth the expense.

  “What your brother means to say is any man would be privileged to give you a ride home, Faith,” Katie tactfully clarified, elbowing Mason. “But if not, we’d wilkom your company.”

  As it turned out, Penelope paired Faith with Hunter, the one man she was specifically trying to avoid. They took seats opposite one another at the far end of the table. The room was filled with noisy chatter, so when Hunter spoke, Faith had to ask him to repeat himself.

  Rather than raising the volume of his voice, he leaned forward to be heard.

  “I said you look a bit drawn. Have you been eating enough?”

  No one had ever asked her that question before, and she couldn’t tell if he was joking.

  “I haven’t stopped eating,” she said, gesturing to the plate piled with macaroni and cheese, fried sweet potatoes and chicken.

  “There sure are plenty of tasty dishes to choose from,” Hunter remarked. “And I heard everyone praising the wedding cake you made.”

  “Almost everyone—Andy was disappointed. He complained it wasn’t nearly as gut as one of my peanut butter sheet cakes.” Faith giggled, relaxing a little. “I told him when he’s old enough to marry, that’s what kind I’ll make for him.”

  Hunter flashed a broad smile. “You have a special way with kinner.”

  Faith had heard this compliment before, and it was often followed by a remark about how she’d make a terrific mother someday. Because motherhoo
d was most definitely not a topic she cared to discuss with Hunter, she simply shrugged and said, “He’s my nephew, so I’m used to handling his behaviors.”

  “Neh,” Hunter protested. “It’s not just with your nephew. It was also with Ivy at the bridge. You were so nurturing and calm—”

  Growing more defensive, Faith snapped, “Ivy’s a young woman, not a kind. I knew what to say to her because the situation happened many times before, not because of any inherent maternal instinct on my part.”

  As she straightened her posture, she realized she’d been leaning so far forward that a glob of macaroni and cheese had gotten stuck to the front of her cape. Inwardly and outwardly, she couldn’t have felt any less attractive than she did at that moment.

  * * *

  Hunter swallowed. He hadn’t meant to insult Ivy; he only meant to pay Faith a compliment. She was usually so good-humored and easy to talk to, yet as he watched her bowing her head to wipe the front of her cape with a napkin, he realized she was in pain. It wasn’t necessarily physical pain that disturbed her, but she was undeniably deeply troubled. He recognized the symptoms. After all, how many times had he forced himself to put on a good face—or at least go through the motions of what was expected of him—when inwardly, he was grimacing in agony?

  After a brief silence, he apologized. “I’m sorry. I know Ivy isn’t a kind, and I don’t think I’ve ever treated her like one. I have nothing but respect for her diligence and gratitude for her skills. I’d be lost without her at the cannery. I only meant you seem to know the right thing to say at the right time to keep a situation from growing worse.”

  Faith placed her napkin beside her plate. “You needn’t apologize, Hunter,” she said. “Once again, I’m the one who ought to be sorry. I’m afraid I’m not much of a supper companion. If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”

  After hurriedly sopping up the last of his gravy with his bread crust, Hunter followed Faith outdoors. He passed several young couples exchanging sweet nothings in hushed tones near the side of the house. If he knew Faith, she’d seclude herself on the farthest end of the property, much like she’d done at the creek at her house the Sunday the Yoders hosted church. Squinting, he carefully picked his way across the property.

  “You haven’t got on a shawl,” he said when he spied her leaning against a willow tree.

  “You aren’t wearing a coat,” she countered.

  “I’m too full to be cold.”

  Her laughter sounded the way the stars looked in the night sky: clear and bright. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she scoffed lightly.

  “It doesn’t make any sense to leave the table before dessert is served, either, but here you are,” he replied.

  “I’ll hardly starve.”

  “But you’ll miss the best part of the meal,” Hunter objected. When his comment elicited only a shrug from Faith, he realized he was being dense. “Ach! I understand. You didn’t want to be paired with me.”

  “Neh,” she said. “I mean, it’s not that I didn’t want to be paired with you, Hunter. It’s that I didn’t want to be paired with anyone. I wanted to go home hours ago, which I know seems like an ungracious thing to say, but I just feel... I feel so...”

  “You feel so what?” He noticed she had a tendency to withhold her thoughts, but he hoped she was becoming more comfortable expressing herself to him. Trying to draw her out, he teased, “You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

  “Neh, it’s not that.” Faith strolled a few yards from the tree, keeping her back turned toward Hunter as she continued to explain. “I used to walk out with Lawrence until...until he decided he didn’t want to marry me. It was a very difficult time, but now I wish him and Penelope all the best, I truly do... I just wish I didn’t have to wish it all day long, if that makes sense.”

  Because he recalled how relieved he was not to be present in Indiana to attend Justine’s wedding, Hunter understood perfectly. For the life of him, though, he couldn’t imagine why Lawrence would choose a girl like Penelope over a woman like Faith. Hunter thought about little Andy saying Faith didn’t want to marry. Was her heartache over Lawrence what made her decide she was no longer interested in marriage to any man?

  “I can’t say I blame you for wanting to leave,” he admitted. “If you wouldn’t object to being paired with me for the journey home, I’m happy to take you now.”

  “Really?” Faith questioned. “You’re sure you’re ready to go, too?”

  “I’m sure,” Hunter replied.

  Faith’s company was the only reason he’d stayed so late, and now that he knew she preferred to leave, there was no sense in his sticking around, either. He’d much rather share three minutes of genuine, joyful interaction with Faith at the bakery than three hours of contrived, cheerless courtship at a social event—even if he was the one who specifically requested Penelope match him with Faith in the first place.

  Chapter Eight

  As grateful as Faith was to Hunter for helping her depart the celebration prematurely, she was simultaneously dismayed at herself for divulging the reason she wanted to escape. What a bobblemoul I am, she thought, blabbering on about Lawrence like that. Hunter characteristically was an attentive and nonjudgmental listener, but he wasn’t Faith’s confidant, and she was mortified that she disclosed such personal feelings. If she wasn’t more careful, who knows what else she’d share in a moment of emotional distress? She resolved to keep her mouth shut on the way home, but as it happened, Hunter barely uttered a word, either.

  Because she accepted a ride with him instead of returning home with Mason after the wedding, Faith knew there’d be no convincing her sister-in-law she wasn’t walking out with Hunter, so she decided she wouldn’t try. When she entered her room, she simply greeted Henrietta, who was tucking the boys in for the night.

  “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now, too,” she whispered. “Gut nacht.”

  Yet instead of sleeping, she interlaced her fingers behind her head and stared at the ceiling.

  “Ant Faith,” her nephew whispered from the other side of the divider, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you awake?”

  “Jah, what is it, Andy?”

  “Mamm says soon you’re going to leave us to go live in the bakery.”

  “Jah, in an apartment above the bakery.”

  “Don’t you like living with us anymore?”

  “Of course I do. But when I move to the apartment above the bakery, your daed can take the divider down and you and your brother will have lots more space.”

  “I don’t want lots more space.” Andrew sniffed. “I want you to stay here with us.”

  Faith squeezed her eyes tightly, and two tears dribbled down each side of her face. “I will visit every Sunday, and you may visit me above the bakery, too.”

  “Will your compartment smell like peanut butter sheet cake?”

  Faith giggled. “Jah, I suppose my apartment will smell like peanut butter sheet cake if that’s what I’ve made in the bakery. When you visit, we’ll eat a piece of whatever I baked that day, okay?”

  “I would like that, Ant Faith. Gut nacht,” the boy whispered sleepily.

  “Gut nacht.”

  As Faith stretched on her bed, she was filled with self-doubt. Maybe her sister-in-law was right: it wasn’t essential for her to move or even for her to earn a salary—Henrietta probably would have been more appreciative of Faith’s help at home, in the garden and around the farm than she was of the financial contributions Faith made toward their household expenses.

  Faith asked herself why she was striving so hard for something that wasn’t considered a necessity. She already knew the answer: she liked being a business owner, she liked serving her customers and she liked baking. There was nothing she was better at doing or relished doing more.

  In fact, for the first time since Lawrence broke
up with her, Faith realized how relieved she was that she hadn’t end up marrying him after all. She’d been a farmer’s daughter her entire youth. She’d had a wonderful childhood and learned many useful skills, but she didn’t necessarily want to be a farmer’s wife—or a farmer’s sister, for that matter—and spend the rest of her life on a farm. Was it so wrong to want to do something different, since she had a choice?

  She wished Henrietta and other women in her district understood that just because she was a single woman didn’t mean her business was a mere hobby to distract her until she got married. Granted, virtually all Amish women quit working full-time once they had children, so she could see why some people assumed the bakery was only a passing interest, but Henrietta knew better. She knew Faith might never marry or have children. Faith resented that her sister-in-law didn’t seem to accept that Faith’s life was following a course that was different from Henrietta’s.

  Faith shifted onto her side, cocooning herself in the quilt. Even Hunter’s observation, “you have a special way with kinner,” seemed fraught with the underlying expectation she would eventually nurture children of her own. Or was she reading too much into his praise? Had seeing Lawrence again influenced her perception, causing her to feel as if she couldn’t quite measure up to anyone’s standards? She didn’t know what to think anymore.

  All that was certain was she had three weeks to meet her financial goal and she wasn’t going to let anything stop her from doing her best to raise the money she needed. Slipping an arm from beneath her covers, she pulled her battery-operated alarm clock from her nightstand, set it to three thirty and placed it beside her on the pillow. Three thirty was a ridiculously early hour to rise, but how else could she keep up with the orders and in-shop sales? She couldn’t risk falling behind, not with her deadline only weeks away.

  The next morning there was a thin sheet of ice on the road, and twice the bicycle almost skidded out from under her, but she pedaled as quickly as she could. On the way, she determined she had set a poor precedent by chatting with Hunter each morning and afternoon. By doing so, she had allowed herself to imagine a flirtation existed between them. Further, those precious minutes were better spent kneading dough, mixing ingredients or otherwise preparing the bakery to receive customers. She also decided she and Pearl needn’t be so chatty: they could increase their productivity if they spent less time jabbering and more time baking.