Amish Romance: Faith's Story: Three Book Box Set

by Brenda Maxfield

  When Faith realized that she was staring at the girl, she quickly moved off, finding a seat and then going to the buffet table. She picked up a plate and walked through, helping herself to green salad, macaroni salad, mashed potatoes and gravy, a fluffy white roll, and green beans. She went back to her table and sat.

  “What would you like to drink?” another Amish girl asked her.

  “A glass of water is fine,” Faith said, knowing she had to watch her expenditures. She did have money, but she also had no idea how long her search might take.

  The girl bustled off and returned quickly with a tall glass of ice water. “Here you are.”

  The waitress had a soft accent with a lilting quality that Faith found very pleasant. I should have an accent like that.

  She thanked the girl and took a sip of the water. It felt strange to be sitting by herself in a restaurant, but it felt even stranger to be plopped down in the middle of an Amish community. Yet, this was what she had wanted.

  She surprised herself by eating every bite on her plate. Then she pulled out her phone, realizing she hadn’t texted Seth. Quickly, she thanked him for the lovely rose and told him that she’d arrived in Landover Creek.

  Within two seconds, he’d texted back. Good. Glad you made it. Call me later.

  She smiled at the screen.

  “Don’t forget our pie table,” the girl said as she refilled Faith’s glass of ice water.

  Faith looked behind the girl. Indeed, there was a table filled with plates boasting slices of pie of all different varieties.

  “I won’t forget,” Faith said. She rarely ate dessert, but a piece of Amish pie sounded good.

  The girl was about to leave, and Faith mustered her courage to ask, “What is your name?”

  The girl hesitated, and her brows rose to a point on her forehead. She pointed to the nametag on her dress. “I’m Sally.”

  “Hi. I’m Faith.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m looking for a place to stay. Do you have any suggestions?”

  The girl visibly relaxed and smiled warmly. “That I do. There’s an Amish Bed and Breakfast on the edge of town.” She blushed. “It’s run by my aenti.”

  Excitement coursed through Faith. “That sounds wonderful,” she said, trying not to look too eager. “Is your aunt’s name Nancy?”

  Faith nearly choked on her words. What an absolutely stupid thing to ask. What was wrong with her? Did she plan to ask every woman she met if her name was Nancy?

  The girl’s forehead creased. “Nancy? Nee. Her name is Prudence.”

  Faith blinked, trying to calm herself down. “Prudence. Right. Okay. Where did you say it was?”

  “Just down the street. Keep going till you’re near the end. It’s a large white house with a sign out front. It says, Landover Bed and Breakfast. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Her waitress turned to leave and then hesitated. “You don’t have to worry. It has electricity. In the guest area, that is.”

  Faith blanched. “Really?”

  Sally laughed. “Jah, it does. The bishop has allowed it. Only where the guests stay, though.” The girl laughed again and left to wait on guests two tables over.

  The bishop had allowed electricity in the bed and breakfast? That was a new concept to Faith. She didn’t think there was ever a situation when electricity would be allowed. She pursed her lips. Yet, there she was in a restaurant lit with electricity. Hmm. There must be different rules for businesses.

  Faith stood to walk to the pie table. She thought she knew a lot about the Amish, but she could see that there was much more to learn. The very thought excited her. She picked up what looked to be the biggest, fluffiest piece of coconut cream pie she’d ever seen. Oh, how her mother would love to try this. She went back to her table, took out her cell again, and snapped a photo. She sent it to her mother with an explanation of where she was.

  Back in her car, Faith decided to get settled in the bed and breakfast and then wander the town. Her plan was to ask around for any Nancy who lived there. A silly plan perhaps, but that was all she could think to do. Maybe Prudence could help her. But what reason could Faith give for her search?

  She shrugged as she drove. She’d think of something. She still had a good feeling about this trip, and an idea would come to her.

  Prudence Miller was a stout middle-aged woman with a wide smile revealing seriously crooked teeth. She greeted Faith with a warm welcome.

  “We have two vacancies at present,” she said, glancing down at her large register book. “Are you alone?”

  Faith nodded.

  “Then, you won’t mind our smaller room.” Prudence chuckled. “Don’t fret. It’s a lovely room.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” Faith said, smiling back. The woman exuded a cheerfulness that was contagious. Faith found herself wanting to chuckle right along with the woman.

  “Let me get your particulars, and then we’ll head on up the stairs. Will that suit?”

  Faith nodded. “That will suit.” The phrase sounded funny to her ears but slipped off her tongue easily enough.

  Once the registration book was filled out, they headed up the stairs.

  “We got hot water,” Prudence said. “The Englisch always want to know about that.” She walked two doors down the hall and then pushed the door wide open. “It’s Indiana, after all. Can you imagine a cold bath in the winters here?” She gazed at Faith. “Well, come on in.”

  Faith stepped into a very clean, very sparsely decorated room. There was a tall dresser, wooden pegs along the wall closest to the window, and a high bed with the most beautiful yellow and green quilt Faith had ever seen. At the window, white curtains fluttered in the breeze.

  “This is lovely,” Faith said.

  “Thank you,” Prudence answered. “Breakfast is served beginning at seven. If you need it earlier, we can arrange it.”

  “No. Seven is fine.” Faith set her suitcase on the floor. “Do you have any special rates if a person wants to stay a week or more?”

  “A week? Jah, we do. You’re staying a week?” Her large black eyes studied Faith thoroughly now.

  “Uh, maybe. I-I’m not sure,” Faith stammered under her gaze.

  Prudence clucked her tongue. “If you want to stay a week, we’ll work something out. You just let me know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, is there anything else?”

  Faith bit her lip. “Um, yes.” She inhaled deeply. “My mother once knew an Amish girl by the name of Nancy. Since I’m here, I thought that maybe I could locate her.”

  Inside, Faith was trembling. Had she just told the woman a lie? Well, not exactly. Yet, her mother hadn’t really known Nancy. But still … surely, God would forgive the small exaggeration.

  “There are some Nancy’s around these parts. No last name?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m not sure I can help you.”

  “She’d be in her thirties.” Faith pressed.

  Prudence laughed. “Guess it ain’t the Beiler girl then. She’s coming on six.”

  Faith forced herself to laugh. “No, I guess not.”

  “I’ll give it some thought. I do know Nancy Hershberger would be around thirty. Maybe more. Don’t rightly know. Never thought about it much. She lives over close to the river.”

  “The river? Is that far from here?”

  The woman took a step back and scrutinized her. “You plan to go over there? To her house?”

  Faith blinked. “I’m not sure.”

  “And I’m not sure the Hershbergers would think kindly of me if I sent you running over there. You say this Nancy was a friend of your mother’s?”

  Faith hoped her cheeks weren’t turning bright red. Suddenly, she felt very hot and the collar of her shirt seemed to be tightening around her neck. She reached up and yanked on it. “Not a close friend, no.”

  “Don’t see much point in disturbing them then.” Prudence tur
ned to leave and then paused. “You let me know if you need anything.”

  Faith nodded and watched her go. She sank down on the bed and let out her breath. That wasn’t a very good beginning. Obviously, she had a long way to go to become any kind of spy or investigator.

  But still, she’d gotten something, hadn’t she? A name. A sort of location. It was a start.

  She put her suitcase on the bed and unpacked, filling the top two drawers of the dresser. She glanced at the pegs and decided to drape her sweatshirt over one. She did so and then stood back to look at it. She smirked to herself. A hoodie hanging on a peg didn’t look Amish at all.

  She didn’t stay in her room. Instead, she left the bed and breakfast and drove back to the middle of town. She got out and began perusing the different shops along the street. She walked into one and the wooden floor creaked, announcing her presence. A young child of no more than ten gazed at her. She stood next to a small counter by an old-fashioned register. Was the little girl minding the shop?

  Faith smiled at her, and the girl gave her a shy grin. The shop offered some Amish clothing, for both men and women. Faith also saw some children’s clothing. She walked over to a low counter that was full of head coverings. She picked up a white kapp and fingered it. It was stiffer than she’d imagined.

  On a whim, she took it to the little girl. “I’d like to purchase this.”

  The girl looked surprised, but ran off to the back of the store. Within seconds, a woman—presumably the girl’s mother—bustled to the counter. She rang up Faith’s purchase.

  “Do you have a sack?” Faith asked, unwilling to walk around in public carrying the kapp. She was sure it would bring unwanted attention to her presence.

  “Jah.” The woman reached under the counter. “Here you are.”

  Her kapp tucked inside the sack, Faith asked, “Can you tell me which farm is the Hershbergers?”

  The woman’s brow raised, but she managed not to look surprised. “The Hershbergers? Abel and Nancy?”

  Faith nodded.

  “They live by the river. Don’t know their specific address, but they keep an old plow in their front yard. You can’t miss it.”

  Faith nearly jumped for joy, but she remained calm and thanked the woman. She could hardly get to her car fast enough. She jumped in and pulled out, heading out of town. She had a vague sense of where the river was, but as she drove a couple miles, she realized she was wrong. She saw no traces of a river. Just as she was about to head back to town, she saw a bridge. She turned toward it and followed the road which indeed ran alongside a river.

  It was easy to tell which farms were Amish and which weren’t. Some clearly had electrical lines running to the homes, and there was a tractor or some other motorized vehicle visible. The Amish homes were devoid of lines, and she often spotted a black buggy parked near the barn. She slowed her car to a crawl, grateful that no one else seemed to be on the road. When she passed a large white farmhouse and red barn with a plow sitting under a willow tree in the front, she slammed on her brakes and nearly threw herself through the windshield.

  Chapter Four

  This was the house! Faith had found it. She glanced up and down the road for a place to park. A stand of trees bordered the asphalt a few yards back. She backed her car up and drove a bit off the road to park. She opened her windows and breathed deeply of the fresh country air. She tried to position herself to see the house, but she wasn’t close enough. Finally, she got out and walked slowly forward, craning her neck until she could see the place. Then she stood still and waited.

  She wasn’t sure what she expected to happen. Did she think a woman would come out onto the porch and stand still so Faith could study her appearance? And did she expect the woman to look exactly like her? Gray eyes? Rich brown hair? A chin that came down into a pixie point?

  Faith scoffed at herself, but she didn’t move. She would need to explore every lead if she hoped to find her birth mother.

  About ten minutes after she arrived, three young children spilled out onto the porch. They ran yelling across the yard to the tire swing which hung fairly close to the abandoned plow. With gleeful cries, they took turns pushing each other. Faith smiled as she watched. Were these her half-siblings?

  A woman came outside, and Faith held her breath.

  “Debbie! Get back in here! You didn’t finish the dishes!”

  The oldest of the three, at least Faith guessed her to be the oldest, ran back to the house.

  Faith grinned, remembering all the times that she’d been called back to forgotten dishes. The woman held the screen door wide for the girl. From such a distance, Faith could see that the woman had light hair, not exactly blonde, but not brunette either. That was about all she could tell. Although, she appeared on the short side and a bit plump, whereas, Faith was tall and slim.

  But still … that didn’t really mean anything.

  Faith needed to know more.

  “Whatcha doing?” came a voice behind her.

  Faith swirled to see a young lad of about eleven or twelve watching her. “Oh! You startled me.”

  “Are you spying?” He looked affronted.

  “Oh, uh, no. I was just exploring the area. I’m a tourist.”

  “Ach. Too many tourists, my dat says.”

  “Does he?” Faith’s mind swirled trying to think of a better excuse as to why she was hiding in the trees. She certainly couldn’t admit to spying on the Hershbergers.

  “My mamm says we need the tourists. Brings in money.” He shrugged as if he couldn’t care less either way.

  “Tourists do bring in money. For example, I paid for a great meal in town earlier. And I’m staying at a bed and breakfast.”

  “You’re staying with Prudence then?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “She’s almost kin. Her husband is a good friend of my dat.”

  Faith smiled. “Good friends are nice.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So, is that your car?” He nodded toward her orange Volkswagen.

  “Yes. You like it.”

  “Odd color for a car.”

  “It is a bit bright. But I can find it easily in a parking lot.” She laughed and then realized he’d probably never in his life searched for a car in a parking lot.

  “I live there.”

  “Oh?”

  “The place you’re staring at.”

  Faith swallowed. Could you be my brother? “It’s a lovely farm.”

  His forehead crinkled at her use of the word lovely.

  “So, you’ve always lived here.”

  “Of course.”

  “Your folks, too?”

  “It was Daadi’s place, so Dat was raised here. Mamm’s folks came from Pennsylvania back in the day.”

  Faith’s spirits plummeted. “Pennsylvania?” she echoed.

  The boy took a step back. “I don’t think I should be talking to you,” he said. “I don’t rightly know why you want to know so much.” He looked downright worried.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’ll go now.”

  She hurried to her car. “Have a nice day,” she said to his retreating back.

  She quickly drove away. Discouragement swept through her. Pennsylvania? And when had they transplanted themselves to Indiana? How far back was back in the day? For a child, that could mean anything. It seemed unlikely that this Nancy could be her mother. But truly, what had she expected? That she would find her mother within two seconds of her search?

  Nancy gazed at her young daughter sleeping in her arms. With every child she birthed, it came back to her in waves. Her first daughter. Where was she? Was she happy? Did she ever think of her? Tears filled Nancy’s eyes.

  “Ach, you’re crying again,” Abel said. “What is it about new babes that sets you to crying?”

  Nancy freed one hand and wiped away the tears. “I’m fine,” she said, putting a smile on her face.

  But she wasn’t fine. Oh, there were times when she could go nearly a
whole day and not think of the child she’d given birth to all those years ago. Times when she was filled with joy and gratitude for her present family, her husband, and her children. But most of the time, she felt an open hole in her heart. A gaping wound that cried out for that small girl child of so many years before.

  Her mother never found out that Nancy knew it was a girl. Nancy wasn’t supposed to know. She wasn’t even supposed to see the child. The lawyer told her mother it was better that way. So Nancy’s tiny daughter was whisked away from her seconds after coming into the world. Nancy was exhausted with the ordeal, but with blurred vision, she’d caught a glimpse of the little one. Enough of a glimpse to know it was a girl.

  She had burst into sobs then, reaching out her hands and crying for the baby.

  “There, there,” her mother had crooned, smoothing her hair from her forehead. “It’s all over now. Gott will forgive you, child. He’ll forgive you.”

  At that moment, Nancy hadn’t been worried about forgiveness. Worries about God’s mercy wouldn’t torment her for some days yet. All Nancy worried about was her baby. The tiny little wrinkled screaming girl, taken from her so abruptly and with such finality.

  Nancy had been only fifteen.

  And her parents knew best. But for months afterwards, as her body healed, her heart remained bruised and hurting. Nancy would run through the fields to Cutter’s Creek, wailing out her pain. Praying no one would hear her. Wondering if even God heard her.

  For surely if He did, he’d take away the screaming emptiness inside.

  But He never did. The emptiness persisted. Haunting her. Coloring every single thing she did from the moment of her baby’s birth onward. There was no possibility of marrying the father of the baby. He was fancy. An Englischer. A stranger.

  “He used you, and you let him!” her dat had screamed at her when her pregnancy was revealed. “How dare you be so stupid, girl!”