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

by Brenda Maxfield

  “Isaiah!” her mother had tried to calm him. “The other children mustn’t hear you.”

  “They’ll know soon enough what kind of sister they have!” he’d hollered back.

  Nancy had cringed, pressing herself into the corner of the wooden chair. She felt so sick, so overwhelmingly nauseous that she thought she might have the baby right then and there. And then it would die. She knew it would die. It was only a tiny, tiny peanut inside her.

  “Get her out of my sight!” Isaiah cried. “Get her away from the other children.”

  Her mother pulled Nancy from the chair, shielding her with her body as if she feared Isaiah might strike her. Her mother hustled her up to her bedroom where she began to pack up Nancy’s few clothes. Clothes that wouldn’t fit her for long.

  Nancy knew her father would never lay a hand on her, even in his rage. He didn’t need to. His words sliced through her better than any physical blow, leaving her heart ripped and exposed.

  She fell to her bed sobbing, and her mother told her she’d be staying with her Aenti Betsy until the baby came.

  “And you’ll give the child away,” her mother had said, a hitch in her voice. “Then you’ll come back, and no one will ever know.”

  Which is pretty much how it happened. Nancy had been carted off to the Amish district of Hollybrook where she’d grown heavy and given birth to her little girl. When she returned home, no one knew what had happened. Her mother never spoke of it. Her father hardly spoke to her at all.

  Nancy kept her pain inside, where it grew into a tangled mass of confusion and heartache. The months dragged by, and Nancy learned how to stuff down her feelings and pretend life was worth living.

  She grew up and became quite adept at pretending. She was courted by Abel Hershberger. He was a dear man. A good man. And she loved him.

  But he didn’t know. So many times she had almost told him the truth, but she had locked it so deeply behind the thick walls of her heart, that she couldn’t bear to let it out. For if she did, she might not be able to stop weeping. Ever.

  Nancy allowed herself one good cry a year on September the fifth. The day of her little girl’s birth. On that day, Nancy would be ill and lie in her bed and sob without consolation. Abel grew accustomed to it. And if he suspected something, or if he knew something, he never let on.

  There were other times when the grief became overwhelming—each time after Nancy gave birth to another of Abel’s children. Then, the truth of her past would come rushing over her in such waves that she couldn’t hold it back—couldn’t keep the memories safely behind the walls she’d erected. Every time she would look into her new baby’s face, she would see another face there, too. A crying red face that she never got to comfort. Never got to watch over. Never got to hum lullabies to.

  “Nancy?”

  Nancy shuddered and looked at her husband.

  “Do you want me to fetch your mother?”

  Nancy shook her head. “Nee. I’m fine, Abel. You know I’m just a touch weepy with the new babe. It’ll pass.”

  His kind brown eyes regarded her with sympathy. “I don’t like you to be sad, Nancy. I feel responsible.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “You’re birthing my babies, and it makes you sad.”

  “Ach, Abel. Nee. Don’t think such a thing. I’m ever so happy to have the bopplis.” She put on an extra bright smile. “It ain’t unusual for a woman to be weepy after having a babe. You know that.”

  Abel squatted before her. “I know no such thing. All I know if my wife is crying. And has been for too long.” He gently rubbed his thumb beneath her eyes, wiping away her tears. “You’re ever so dear to me.”

  Her face grew warm at his loving words. She would never become accustomed to his tender phrases. From what she knew, it was uncommon for a husband to speak with such endearing sentiment. She’d certainly never heard as much as a whisper of tenderness from her father to her mother. Abel truly was a wonderful husband. She smiled at him.

  “Jah, Abel. I know. And I love you, too.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her lips. “There now. Will you be all right?”

  She gave a short laugh. “Of course, I will be. I’m all right now. Go on with you. I know you’re itching to get out there and get to the chores.”

  He stood and put on his straw hat. “That I am. I’ll be in for the noon meal. If you need anything, you send one of the kinner.”

  She nodded. “Go on with you,” she repeated, feeling like a fool for causing such concern in her husband.

  He seemed satisfied and left her rocking the sleeping baby.

  “Mamm?” Jeremy asked, coming into the room. “Can I go over to Daadi’s and help him paint?”

  “What’s your grandfather painting now?”

  “Finishing up the back of the house. He said I could help.”

  “And indeed you can. Did you see to the chickens?”

  “Jah.”

  “All right. Be off with you, then.”

  “Mamm?”

  “What is it?”

  “There was this Englischer watching the house yesterday.”

  Nancy’s brows rose. “What do you mean?”

  “This tourist was watching our house.”

  Nancy sighed. “Ach. I suppose we need the tourists, but I get right tired of being on display sometimes.”

  “Daadi said one of them took his picture the other day. He was mad about it.”

  Nancy laughed. “I imagine he was.”

  “I’m going now. Can I stay over there for the noon meal?”

  “If your maami invites you.” Which, of course, she would. Her mother liked nothing better than for the children, any or all of them, to be there for a meal.

  “See you,” Jeremy said. He ran out of the house, slamming the screen door behind him.

  The baby let out a wail, and Nancy patted her and shushed her, talking quietly in her ear. Then she got up to lay her in the cradle. Little Miriam would probably sleep for an hour or two, and Nancy could hardly afford the time to just sit there and hold her. There were way too many chores calling out to be done.

  Early the next morning, Faith stood in front of the small mirror hung on the wall next to the door. She had pulled her thick hair back and secured it in a bun at the base of her neck. She’d pinned her bangs snugly to the side. With trembling hands, she placed her newly purchased kapp on her head. She looped the strings in a loose knot well below her chin as she’d seen some of the Amish women do.

  She gazed at herself in the mirror, and her eyes filled with tears. The kapp looked right on her head. It didn’t look forced or false. It looked like it belonged there. She smiled at herself, a shy timid smile. It was the smile of an Amish girl meeting the public for the first time. She reached toward the mirror and traced her finger over the glass, outlining the reflection of her face.

  “God, is this who I really am?” she asked in a whisper. “Am I Amish?”

  Someone knocked on her door, and she jumped as if caught in the middle of some forbidden act. She tore off the kapp, ran to the bed, and stuffed it under her pillow. Then she opened the door.

  Prudence stood there, a fluffy yellow towel in her arms. “I deliver a clean towel to your room every day.”

  Faith took the towel. “Thank you.”

  Prudence looked at her. “Breakfast is already served if you’d like to come down. I have four other guests besides you. They’ve already eaten.”

  Faith understood the message. Prudence wanted her to eat so she could clear away the breakfast food.

  “I’ll be right down. Thank you.”

  Prudence narrowed her eyes and studied her. Faith’s hand went to her severe hair style. She felt self-conscious and embarrassed. She wondered whether Prudence would know she was mimicking their style.

  “It’s been awful hot out lately,” Faith muttered, as if that was her excuse for wearing her hair in such a way.

  “That it has,” Prudence agreed. “Well, come o
n down to eat. Would you like coffee?”

  “No. Thanks. Juice or water is fine.”

  Prudence was ahead of her already, swishing down the hall as if she had a million and one things to do. Faith pulled on her hair, loosening the bun until her hair fell over her shoulders and down her back like usual.

  She needed to be more careful or Prudence would truly wonder what her mission there really was.

  Chapter Five

  After a hearty breakfast of biscuits, sausage, bacon, and a baked peach, Faith decided to walk into town. It wasn’t a long walk, and she wanted to become more familiar with the shops. She poked her nose into each one, eager to see if anyone’s nametag said Nancy. She was being foolish, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. Any one of these people could be a blood relation. The very thought made her breathing increase and her heart race. A blood relation. How wonderful it must be to be truly related to someone.

  Her cell phone vibrated, and she took it from her pocket.

  “Hi, Seth,” she said, sinking onto one of the cement benches placed sporadically up and down the street.

  “Faith. How’s it going?” His voice was warm and familiar, and it brought tears.

  She coughed and wiped her eyes. “It’s going fine. I found one lady named Nancy. I didn’t get a good look at her, but from a distance she didn’t look a thing like me.”

  “Looks can be deceiving, you know.”

  “I know.” She watched a woman and her toddler across the street. The little guy was clinging to his mama’s hand like a lifeline. The mother was in no hurry, puttering slowly down the street as if she hadn’t a thing to do.

  “What’s your plan today?” he asked.

  “I’m visiting all the shops. I’m going to inquire further about women named Nancy. It feels weird, though. I can’t figure out how to inquire more discreetly. But I have high hopes here. From what my mother shared with me, I think this place could be significant. It’s north of Hollybrook, which is close to where they picked me up.”

  “I really hope you’re right.” There was a muffled noise, and Faith realized Seth was talking to someone else near him. “Faith, I gotta go. I’m on the first shift today, and no one emptied the garbage bins last night.”

  “Okay. Thanks for calling.”

  “I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Have you called your mom?”

  Faith tensed. “No, not yet.”

  “She’s going to be worried.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll call her.”

  “Talk to you later.”

  “Later.” Faith hung up. She stared at her phone screen for a long time and then pressed her mother’s name.

  “Faith?” The eagerness in her mother’s voice shamed Faith.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “How are you?”

  Faith could tell she wanted to ask more but was holding herself back.

  “I’m doing fine. I’m staying in a really nice bed and breakfast. You should have seen the biscuits they served this morning. They were almost as big as dinner plates.”

  Mrs. Baldwin laughed. “I can just picture that.”

  Faith laughed with her, and then there was silence.

  “So,” Mrs. Baldwin said. “I take it no real luck yet?”

  “Mom, I’ve been here for all of two seconds.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m just eager for you to find something out and to come home.”

  “I’ll let you know, okay?”

  More silence. Then, “Okay.”

  “Bye, Mom. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Mrs. Baldwin’s voice sounded pinched, and Faith could hear the tears in her throat.

  She hung up. The sun was already high in the sky, and its rays covered her with a muggy warmth. Before putting her phone away, she called Cassie.

  “Faith! I was wondering about you.”

  “Hi Cass.”

  “Well?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Bummer.”

  “No. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  “You’ll keep me posted if something happens.”

  Faith let out her breath. All three phone calls drained her in a way they never had before. Who knew that talking to people you loved could be so exhausting. “I might just give you the whole scoop when we’re face to face again.”

  Cassie was quiet. Faith knew her well, and she knew that Cassie was annoyed. “Fine,” Cassie finally said.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “Kind of. I want the play-by-play. You know, right when it’s happening. But I’m going to be the understanding friend and bow to your wishes.” She laughed.

  Faith sighed with relief. “Thanks, Cassie. Truly. Thanks.”

  “And you can buy me pizza, too? Deal?”

  “Deal. See you, Cassie.” Faith disconnected the call, squared her shoulders, and walked into a nearby bakery. There were three women behind the counter, two were Englischers and one was Amish. Faith zoned in on the Amish woman.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked.

  “Yes.” Faith quickly surveyed the offerings on the counter. “I will take this package of cookies.”

  “That will be five dollars and eighty-five cents.”

  Faith dug in her purse for the money. “Um, I’m looking for a friend of my mother’s. Her name is Nancy, and I think she lives around these parts.”

  The woman looked at her. “Is this Nancy, Amish?”

  Faith nodded. “Yes. Yes, she is.”

  The woman took her money and gave her the change. Then she placed the cookies in a plastic bag.

  “There’s Nancy Hershberger. She lives by the river. There’s also a Nancy Yoder, a Nancy Bitner, and my aenti is Nancy Young. If you tell me your mother’s name, I can ask my aenti for you.”

  Faith hadn’t counted on that. She bit her lip, wondering what to say.

  “Is your mother Amish, too?” the woman asked. “Otherwise, I don’t see how she could possibly know my aenti.”

  “My mother’s name is Margaret Baldwin,” Faith told her, electing to ignore the is-your-mother-Amish question.

  “Margaret Baldwin… I’ll tell her.”

  “Does your aunt live around here?” Faith tried to make her question sound casual.

  The woman scrutinized her. “In the area.”

  “Thank you. I’ll check back in a couple days.” Faith picked up her bag of cookies, which she didn’t want, and left the shop. She hoped she hadn’t aroused too much suspicion, but she feared she had. Hers was a ridiculous plan and would never work.

  Never in a million years.

  Nancy stood over the cradle and touched the little fluff of hair on her baby’s head. “Sleep well, little boppli,” she whispered and tip-toed from the room.

  “Mamm,” Debbie asked as she entered the kitchen, “can I help make the bread this time? Please?”

  Nancy nodded. “Of course. Get the yeast and the flour, would you?”

  “Will it be finished by supper?”

  “Nee. We’re getting an awfully late start.”

  “Because of Miriam, right?” Debbie asked. “What’s wrong with her anyway?”

  “I think she’s teething. And no complaining from you. I remember another of my babes crying her very eyes out at about the same age.”

  Debbie got a pleased look on her face. “It was me, wasn’t it? Tell me about it, Mamm.”

  Nancy grinned and playfully patted her daughter’s back. “Oh, you were a fussy one, Debbie. I thought your first tooth was never going to come in. Your constant fussing set everyone’s nerves on edge. Your poor dat. He kept wondering why you carried on so. When those swollen gums of yours finally produced a tooth, we almost had a celebration.”

  Debbie laughed. “A party? You mean you almost had a tooth party?”

  Nancy shook her head at the memory. “Jah, we almost had a first tooth party. Life was much sweeter for a while. Until your next tooth decided to come i
n.”

  “Then I cried all over again?”

  Nancy gave her young daughter a squeeze. “Jah, you did. Cried and cried till the cows came home.”

  Debbie giggled. “Aw, Mamm. You say funny things.”

  “None of us were laughing when you were crying, I can tell you.”

  Debbie leaned against her mother. “What about Jeremy? Did he cry a lot?”

  “Some. But you took the cake, Debbie Hershberger. You took the cake.” Nancy watched Debbie’s pleased face as she ran to fetch the yeast and flour. The girl loved to bake. Perhaps someday she’d work in the bakery, whipping up delicious fare for the tourists. She shook her head. No. She wouldn’t wish for that. If Debbie met a lot of tourists, a lot of Englischers, it could be dangerous.

  Her daughter might fall in love with one of those fancy boys, and Nancy knew only too well what could happen then. She sank onto a kitchen chair and rested her chin in her hand. She wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to Gregory Smith. She closed her eyes and visualized his happy face. The way he smiled with one side of his mouth raised higher than the other. The way his green eyes twinkled with some inner joke. The quick way he moved across a room, as if he was in some kind of relay race and everything depended on him being first. The way he put his arms around her and hugged her tightly enough to chase away all fears and doubts and warnings. The way he held her afterwards and wiped her tears away with the back of his hand. The way he told her he’d marry her and take care of her forever.

  The way he’d disappeared out of her life as if he’d never been there in the first place.

  “Mamm?” Debbie asked, her voice worried. “Are you crying?”

  Nancy gave a start and blinked hard. “Nee. Why would I be crying? Now, let’s get to the bread making, all right?”

  “I got the stuff out. But I can’t find the glass bowl.”

  Nancy reached into the cupboard below the sink and pulled out the large green bowl. “Here it is. Now, we need some warm water.”

  The two of them mixed up the dough and together, they kneaded it, punching and pulling until Debbie was again in giggles. “I like baking bread with you, Mamm.”

  “Thank you, daughter. I like baking bread with you, too.”