An Amish Holiday Wedding

by Carrie Lighte

  Hunter directed the horse toward Faith’s home, clearing his throat so many times she was about to search her satchel for a lozenge when he announced, “I’m glad you accepted a ride, Faith, because there’s something important I want to discuss with you.”

  Faith interwove her gloved fingers on her lap to steady her hands. Why was she so nervous? “Jah, what is it?”

  “It’s that I’m sorry. Very sorry. For what I said the day you came to Ruth’s house with the fry pies.” Hunter’s voice was guttural and his words came out in spurts. “I said things that were unkind. And misdirected. I said hurtful things. I’m sorry and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” she answered, echoing the words and impervious tone he’d used when she apologized to him for contributing to his injuries. “You were only telling the truth, and you were right. I don’t know anything about the extent of your health issues. In some ways, I have made the bakery the center of my life. And my struggles are small compared with yours.”

  “Neh!” Hunter exclaimed. “Those things weren’t true expressions of how I felt. I said them because I was in pain. Not just physical pain, either. I was...I was scared, Faith. When you found out about my previous injuries, I felt weak. Exposed. I assumed you thought of me as...as less than a man. And I felt if I hadn’t failed you, you wouldn’t have had to get a loan. So I lashed out. My behavior was deplorable.”

  Stirred by Hunter’s brave admission and how similar his fears were to her own, Faith had to lick her lips before softly replying, “I understand, Hunter. Denki for explaining. I accept your apology.”

  As her eyes adjusted to the evening light, she could see the grin crinkling his face as he turned toward her, and his voice was filled with relief. “You have no idea how much your forgiveness means to me,” he said. “There’s something else I want to discuss. How about if we stop here?”

  Curious, Faith agreed. Hunter guided the horse until they’d reversed direction on the side of the road and were overlooking Main Street in the valley below. The landscape twinkled with Christmas lights and candles in houses owned by Englischers and the Amish, and as if on cue, snowflakes began powdering the landscape. “How pretty!” Faith raved. “I love Willow Creek, don’t you?”

  “I like it so much I’ve decided to stay permanently,” Hunter replied.

  Faith peered at him. “But what will you—”

  “Ant Ruth has given me the gift of a year’s lease on the cannery, which I’m going to convert into a furniture restoration shop. It was your customer, James Palmer, who gave me the idea when he commissioned me to work on another set of antique furniture. I’ll probably perform most of the tasks in my onkel’s old workshop, but I’ll need a prominent location in town to attract Englisch customers.”

  “Wow, your own business—I’m so happy for you!”

  “Denki. If it weren’t for accompanying you on that first delivery to the Palmers’ house when I offered to fix their chair, I probably never would have had the opportunity.”

  Faith was every bit as pleased as Hunter was. Adjusting her scarf to better inhale the snappy night air, she silently marveled that the Lord had used her weight—or at least, a fractured chair seat—to help Hunter. It’s not the first time the Lord has used my brokenness as a blessing, she thought, remembering how her business was born as a result of her surgery. “I’m glad we’ll be neighbors on Main Street again,” she said.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Hunter murmured. He was quiet for a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was raspy. “Actually, I’ve been reflecting on how well we worked together as business partners—before I started acting like such a dummkopf, that is—and I’d like to continue to, er, be paired with you, but not as your business partner or as your neighbor on Main Street. I’d like it to be a more personal partnership. What I’m trying to say, Faith, is that I’d like to court you.”

  Faith’s heart leaped in her chest and just as quickly sank to her feet. This was simultaneously the most wonderful and terrible moment of her past year. She couldn’t accept Hunter’s offer, nor could she make herself refuse it. Stunned, she sat wordlessly watching as steam puffed from the horse’s nostrils in front of them.

  When she didn’t reply, Hunter said, “I don’t take courting lightly, if that’s your hesitation. My stance is the same now as when I was sixteen—I wouldn’t ask to court you if I didn’t think we have a possibility of marrying someday.”

  “I understand,” Faith answered soberly. “Which is why I can’t accept your offer of courtship.”

  “What? Why not?”

  The impulse to share her secret was so overwhelming it frightened her. It made her feel, in Hunter’s own words, weak and exposed. True, Hunter was very respectful and understanding when she opened up to him about her business concerns and her breakup with Lawrence. Not to mention how compassionately he responded to her breakdown after the incident with the drunken student. There was no doubt he’d witnessed sides of her she wouldn’t ordinarily reveal, and she’d grown to trust him to keep her secrets, which was why she had even considered telling him about her health issue the other day. But that was different.

  That was before he asked if he could be her suitor. She couldn’t risk being that vulnerable now. She couldn’t bear to watch his mouth drop open as he struggled to think of a way to rescind his offer. Getting over Lawrence’s rejection was difficult enough, but what helped was that Faith rarely saw him after their breakup. She was sure to cross paths with Hunter on a daily basis now that he was opening a shop across the street from her. No, she just couldn’t bear the shame. Not again.

  “As fond as I am of you and as valuable as your friendship is to me, you and I wouldn’t be compatible as a courting couple, Hunter. Our...our shortcomings would end up disappointing each other at some point in the future.”

  Hunter removed his hat and rubbed his forehead before saying, “I can’t promise I’ll never disappoint you in the future, Faith. I don’t think anyone can promise that to another person because only the Lord is unfailing. But I’ll do my best. And if I hurt your feelings or let you down, I pledge to work out our misunderstandings with an attitude of respect and forgiveness.”

  “We have worked out misunderstandings within our friendship with mutual respect. But as you mentioned, courtship leads to marriage and marriage...marriage is an entirely different kind of relationship.”

  “Which is why we wouldn’t rush into it. We’d take our time courting so we could be certain we were ready.”

  “Time isn’t going to make a difference.”

  “So you’re saying you never want to get married at all?”

  “I do, but—”

  “But not to me.” Hunter finished the sentence for her.

  “Neh, you don’t understand.” Faith choked out the words as tears streamed down her cheeks. It’s exactly the opposite. If you knew the reason, you’d realize you are the one who doesn’t want to marry me.

  * * *

  Faith was right; Hunter didn’t understand. Why was she turning him down? What did she mean they wouldn’t be compatible as husband and wife? They already proved how well they worked together. Their conversations were easy and genuine, and they enjoyed many good laughs. How could he have been so wrong in thinking Faith shared the same degree of connection to him that he’d felt toward her? Why did she say they’d end up disappointing each other?

  “Is it that you don’t think I’d make a good provider because of my injuries?” he persisted. “I don’t blame you for thinking that. I’ve thought that myself. But one thing I’ve learned since coming to Willow Creek is my future is in the Lord’s hands, not mine, no matter how hard I work. So, I’ll continue to do my best and leave the rest up to Him.”

  “Neh, that’s not it.” Faith wiped her eyes with the end of her scarf. “Please, Hunter, take me home.”

  Ignoring her request, he d
ropped his voice an octave as he asked, “Is it that you don’t think I’m strong enough, or manly enough?”

  Straightening her posture, Faith snapped, “Of course I think you’re manly and strong! Who else could have tugged me ashore so quickly I barely got my stockings wet yesterday? But physical strength is hardly what makes a man a man—it’s his character that defines him. I’ve seen your strength of character, Hunter. I’ve witnessed how you’ve been in pain, yet you’ve fought to overcome obstacles and to help others along the way, especially your family. Especially me. The Lord couldn’t have blessed me with your friendship at a more crucial time.”

  Hunter smacked his knees. “That’s exactly how I feel about you, too! I believe the Lord intends for us to be each other’s helpmate—and not only when we’ve fallen over a buggy seat or plunged into an icy pond, or even as neighbors on Main Street or leit within the same church district. I believe we have a future together as husband and wife.”

  Faith wouldn’t look at him. Shaking her head, she whispered, “I’m sorry but the answer is neh.”

  “You’ve told me neh, but you still haven’t told me why.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You’re not being fair,” Hunter argued. “You’ve seen me at my most vulnerable, you’ve heard me crying like a bobbel, yet you refuse to be vulnerable in return. You’ve accused me of false pride, yet you’re being false, too. You’re hiding something beneath that wunderbaar smile of yours. Please tell me, Faith.”

  “I want to go home now,” she demanded, reaching for the reins, but Hunter held them to the side. This was one conversation that was too important to allow her to disappear before it was finished.

  “Talk to me, Faith. Please?” he implored.

  Although she shook her head, Hunter sensed she was on the verge of telling him what was troubling her.

  “You almost drowned yesterday,” he prodded gently. “I risked my life to save you, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. But now it’s your turn to take a risk on my behalf. Don’t I deserve that much? Don’t I deserve to know why you won’t walk out with me?”

  “It’s me. It’s that I’m not... I can’t...”

  Hunter reached over and squeezed her hand. “Please tell me,” he urged.

  Faith pulled her arm away and covered her face. “I might not be able to have kinner and you want to have lots of them,” she wailed. “I had surgery when I was seventeen and I—I—”

  Sobs racked her body and she didn’t finish her sentence. There was no need; Hunter understood. He slid closer, enveloped her against his chest and rocked back and forth until her shuddering subsided and she’d caught her breath. Then he dabbed the tears from her cheeks and cupped her face in his hands so he could gaze directly into her eyes. “Do you want to have kinner when you get married?” he inquired softly.

  Faith pulled back, as if stumped by the question. “That’s sort of a moot consideration, since I don’t really allow myself to think about getting married anymore. But ideally, jah, if I were married I’d like to start a family. However, we don’t always get what we want. Sometimes the Lord has other plans for us.”

  “That’s true,” Hunter agreed. “Although sometimes, the Lord gives us our heart’s desires, just not in the manner we had planned.” He took a deep breath before asking, “Would you ever consider adoption?”

  “Jah, absolutely. But it’s expensive, time-consuming, and—”

  “And worth every penny, every second and every teardrop put into the process,” Hunter interjected. “At least, that’s what my parents told me.”

  “You were adopted?”

  “Jah.”

  Faith clutched her stomach and bent forward. At first, Hunter thought she had burst into tears again, but then he realized she was laughing, and he laughed along with her until their joy seemed to echo across the valley.

  When they quieted, she looked directly at him and said, “Now I’m positive you’re Gott’s gift to me.”

  Despite the cold, Hunter’s insides melted. “I have no doubt you’re His gift to me, too.”

  “And just in time for Grischtdaag,” she quipped, playfully nudging his arm.

  “Does that mean we’re walking out now?”

  “Are you sure you want to?”

  Instead of answering aloud, Hunter leaned closer, placed his hand on the nape of her neck and gently drew her mouth to his. Her lips were plump and velvety, and she smelled faintly of cinnamon.

  When they pulled away, Faith opened her eyes halfway and peered at him from beneath her lashes. “I’m sure, too,” she said. Then she turned and rested her head against his shoulder.

  They sat side by side in silence, admiring the view, until Faith finally suggested, “I suppose we’d better go deliver these pies to my family before they freeze.”

  “Alright,” Hunter reluctantly conceded. This moment had been so long in coming he hated for it to end.

  When he reached the Yoders’ farm, he said, “I’d like to see you tomorrow. Perhaps I can bring you home from work again?”

  “Neh, I don’t think that’s a gut idea,” Faith replied.

  Hunter was confounded. Was she joking? He decided to tease her, too. “You don’t need to ride solo on a bicycle built for two anymore, Faith—you have me now.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. “Denki, but I won’t be riding my bike anywhere tomorrow—it’s Grischtdaag!”

  “So it is,” Hunter sheepishly admitted. Apparently, kissing Faith not only turned his heart inside out, but it turned his brain upside down, and he’d lost all sense of time.

  “You’re wilkom to visit anytime the following day,” Faith suggested. The Amish leit in their district celebrated Christmas by fasting and worshipping at home with their families and then feasting together in the late afternoon. December 26 was traditionally reserved for visiting friends and extended family, exchanging small gifts and eating treats.

  “I’ll see you bright and early on the twenty-sixth, then,” Hunter promised.

  While he enjoyed reading Scripture, singing carols and devouring the meal Ruth was thrilled to be mobile enough to prepare, Hunter was relieved when twilight finally arrived. But once in bed, he tossed and turned. Thoughts of Faith kept him awake. Instead of counting the ticking of the clock, he counted his heartbeats until he’d see her again. It did no good; he still couldn’t sleep. He lay awake until almost dawn, and then donned his clothes, grabbed his flashlight and tiptoed outdoors. It had snowed off and on since Christmas Eve, and his footsteps crunched loudly as he made his way toward the stable.

  After quietly hitching the horse, he directed it toward the Yoders’ house. At the bottom of a big hill, he stopped the buggy, set the brake and cautiously lowered himself onto the ground to trek partway up the incline. His muscles were sore and tight, but after fifteen minutes, he finished his trek and continued in the buggy to Faith’s house.

  “Hunter!” Faith whispered when she opened the kitchen door. “What are you doing here? The sun isn’t even up yet!”

  “I said I’d be here bright and early, didn’t I? Please, grab your shawl and kumme with me. There’s something I need to show you.”

  Faith pursed her lips and shook her head, but she put on her shawl and followed him out the door. Once they were on the road, she asked, “What would you have done if I hadn’t been awake?”

  “You’re a baker. You’re always up at this hour,” Hunter replied smugly, causing Faith to giggle.

  When they reached the bottom of the hill, and he reversed the buggy so they were facing the incline, she asked, “What is it you want to show me? It’s too dark to see anything.”

  “Be patient. You’ll find out.”

  “If I had known we were going to sit out here, I would have brought kaffi,” she complained good-naturedly. “And a sticky bun.”

  “Jah, I’m
hungry enough to eat an entire wreath of them myself.”

  Faith lifted her hands to her cheeks. “Ach! Speaking of wreaths, I forgot to say Frehlicher Grischtdaag!”

  “Frehlicher Grischtdaag,” he echoed as the sun began peeking over the horizon, tinting the snow with a soft orange hue. “There’s something else I forgot to say. It might seem premature, but we’ve been through so much together already and it’s something I need to, er, to spell out plainly, so there’s no question about it.”

  Faith tipped her head. “Jah?”

  Hunter gestured toward the incline on the hill in front of them, where he’d etched the words I love you, Faith Yoder in the snow with his boots. When she read it, her face blossomed with pink and she gave him a sideways squeeze.

  “I love you, too, Hunter,” she declared and nuzzled his cheek.

  “Your nose is like an ice cube,” he said, chuckling.

  “Jah, but this cold spell is almost over. It’s supposed to get to forty degrees today,” Faith replied, sighing. “Which means your message will melt.”

  “That’s alright. I’d rather say the words directly to you than inscribe them in the snow.”

  “Uh-oh! Did it hurt your legs to tromp about writing that?”

  “Neh, not really. It’s just I prefer whispering ‘I love you’ because then I’m close enough to do this,” Hunter explained softly as he pressed his lips to hers.

  She allowed him to kiss her twice before she teased, “Kumme, let’s go have breakfast. I’ve been told most people can’t do without their morning meal.”

  “Actually, I was kind of hoping for a treat, maybe a cupcake or...didn’t you mention something about sticky buns?” Hunter gibed. As Faith giggled, Hunter picked up the reins with one hand and encircled her waist with the other. The sun had just risen, but it was already one of the happiest days of his life.

  Epilogue

  When Faith and Hunter were married one week before Christmas the following year, Faith made their wedding cakes: peanut butter sheet cake for the kinner, at Andy’s request, and pumpkin spice with cream cheese frosting and shaved pecans—in tiers, not rolled—because pumpkin rolls were Hunter’s favorite.