By the way, just so you know, writing a letter with paper and pencil seems very strange. It’s so much faster and easier on a computer or even a phone. I’m not complaining, though. I’m so happy to be writing at all.
I’m starting college in a few weeks, and then summer for me will be officially over. This is my first year of college. My boyfriend, Seth Jasper, is in his second year of college. He’s a really nice guy. He came to Hollybrook when I was there. Twice! I’ll tell you more about him in future letters.
I have a sister named Penny. She’s, well, how do I describe her? She’s into social media, shopping, and guys. I suppose that makes her sound super shallow, and she sometimes acts that way. But really, she’s a good sister. She doesn’t understand my need to meet my mother, but she lets me ramble on about it. She’s adopted, too, but she has no desire at all to find her birth mother.
My parents are the best. Really. They’ve given Penny and me a wonderful home to grow up in. I suppose, Mother (if you’re reading this), that you would want to know that. I think you’d like them. My mom has a blog, and she cooks all the time. Well, more like, she experiments. She’s always making up some new concoction. And I have to tell you, they’re always delicious. Dad works at one of the local banks. He’s a numbers guy. I can’t really relate to that. I’d much rather have my nose in a good book.
I was thinking that maybe I should enclose a photo of myself. I’ll have to print one. Funny how all of us take pictures all the time, but we keep them on our phones. I don’t think I actually have a real photo anywhere. But don’t worry. I’ll print one. Mom will let me use Dad’s printer.
Maybe this is enough for now. Thank you, Mae, for reading my letter. (If you did.) And I ask you to please, please, please let my mother read it, too.
Thank you.
Faith Baldwin
Nancy’s days passed in a haze. She had trouble concentrating on anything. She knew Abel noticed, for he wore an incessant worried look. The wrinkles between his brows were pronounced, never disappearing, even when he smiled. Nancy found out the true depth of his worry one fine Tuesday morning.
“Mamm!” Debbie called. “Maami’s here!”
Nancy stiffened. Her mother was there? Abel surely must have contacted her. Her mother would never visit on a Tuesday morning. That was the day she did her ironing and baked her bread for the week. And Esther didn’t interrupt her bread-baking routine for just anything.
Nancy went into the front room and there her mother stood, her sturdy body somewhat bent and a good inch shorter than it was only a few years ago.
“Nancy,” Esther asked, her beady eyes intense, “how are you doing?”
“Fine, Mamm,” Nancy replied. “Come sit a spell. Debbie, can you make us some chamomile tea?”
Esther laid her shawl on the back of a chair. No matter what the temperature, she never left the house without her shawl. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own cup of tea,” she said with a sniff.” She scrutinized Nancy. “You having Debbie do all your work now?”
Nancy bit her tongue and told herself to be calm. Her mother was on a mission, that much was plain to see.
“Let Debbie be, Mamm. She loves to fuss in the kitchen.”
Esther snorted and sat down on the davenport. “Sit down here.” She patted the spot beside her.
Nancy yearned to sit across the room from her, but she obeyed and sank onto the davenport, bracing herself for whatever was to come. Esther sat stiffly, perched like a hawk on an electrical line.
“What is going on here, daughter? Are you not taking care of your household? Why do I have a frantic son-in-law coming to me in the evening with tales of your continual weeping? How come—”
“Mamm,” Nancy interrupted in a terse whisper. She put her hand on her mother’s arm. “Wait, please.”
“For what, I’d like to know,” Esther snapped.
“Wait for your tea, and I’ll send the kinner outside.”
Esther looked around the room as if suddenly realizing that she might be overheard. Not that it would have bothered her, Nancy knew all too well.
“Fine. Let’s sit outside.” Esther stood and marched through the door outside to the porch.
Nancy went into the kitchen to fetch the tea herself.
“The water ain’t quite hot yet, Mamm,” Debbie said.
“It’s hot enough.” Nancy put a tea bag in each of the two cups Debbie had set out. Then she poured the lukewarm water in each. “Hot enough,” she repeated, and walked outside with the cups.
Esther took a sip. “Ach! This is cold.”
“Sorry,” Nancy murmured. In truth, she didn’t want the tea anyway.
“Now, what is going on around here?”
Nancy pressed her lips together. How in the world was she to explain to her mother what was going on? How was she going to tell her mother that the baby her mother had forced her to give away had come back to find her? How was she to tell her mother that all she wanted was to spend time with the girl—days, weeks, and months with her? And even then, it would never be enough. Never.
“I’m waiting,” her mother intoned, her voice hard.
“I’m sorry Abel came to you,” Nancy whispered. “I’m fine.”
Her mother started rocking, her feet moving the chair in a heavy rhythm. The silence stretched out between them, and Nancy felt the perspiration bead up on her upper lip.
“You’re not fine,” Esther finally said. “What’s going on? You sick?”
Sick at heart, Nancy wanted to say. Sick nearly unto death…
“I’m fine,” she reiterated, not looking at her mother. “Abel is overly concerned.”
“He tells me that you’re crying all the time. He says you have a look of fog on you. That you don’t even hear him half the time.” Esther planted her feet into the porch, and her chair abruptly stopped rocking. “Now, I am your mother. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Nancy looked at the woman before her. She saw her hard, wrinkled face. Her small intense eyes. Her wiry gray hair pulled back so severely into a bun that her forehead stretched thin at her hairline. Her bony shoulders protruding beneath her cape dress… This woman that Nancy was to obey and love. This woman who had raised her and taken care of her and bandaged her scraped knees. This woman who had given away her first grandchild as if she were a bag of potatoes.
The familiar resentment burned through Nancy. Surged up her throat like bile.
She could take no more of it. She jumped from her chair. “I said I’m fine!”
Esther reared back as if slapped. They stared at each other, and Nancy felt shame. She was a horrible person. The Lord God must be seriously displeased with her. And what if Abel had heard her speak to her mother in such a manner? What if her children had overheard her?
“I’m sorry,” she said, her face aflame. “I’m sorry. Forgive me.” She sank back into her chair.
Esther’s eyes welled with tears, but Nancy knew they would never fall from her eyes. The woman was too stubborn for that. And sure enough, Esther blinked, and they were gone.
“Maybe you need to visit Preacher Graber. Looks to me like you need some talking to.”
Nancy swallowed, working to get rid of the acid taste in her mouth. “Nee,” she murmured. “I don’t need the preacher. Forgive me. Fact is, I’m a bit tired.”
Esther took a heaving breath. Now, they were back on safe ground. “Jah, you’re tired. Well, the boppli isn’t so old, after all. She’s still a passel of work, ain’t she? I suppose I could come over now and again and help out.”
“Nee.” The word rushed from Nancy’s lips. “I’m going to be fine. Abel is kind to be so concerned, but he needn’t have gone to you.”
“He’s worried, Nancy. And so am I.”
“I know. I’ll get more sleep. I should be better tomorrow.”
Esther’s eyes narrowed, and she frowned. “Nevertheless, I’ll be making a double batch of bread. That’ll save you a chore.”
“Jah, brea
d. That will help. Thank you, Mamm.” Nancy shivered with relief. If she could get off with only a loaf of bread from her mother, she was fortunate indeed.
Esther stood, placing her cup on the small round table. “This tea is awful. I’ll be going now.”
Nancy rose. “Thank you for coming, Mamm. I’m sorry it was for nothing. But the bread will be a big help.”
“I’ll send Isaiah over with it.” Esther strode down the steps, her feet not faltering once, surprising for someone of her age. She climbed into her pony cart, and slapped the reins on the horse.
Nancy watched her go, so glad to see her leave that her knees went weak. She plopped back into the chair and stared blindly out at the yard. She had to get herself together. She couldn’t continue living in two different worlds. She was worrying her husband, and it was probably only a matter of time before the children suffered.
She let out her breath in a huge sigh. She’d made her decision. She’d told Old Mae no. Now, she had to live with it. It was over. Over. When would she realize that there was no way to change the past? That there was no way to go back and somehow keep her baby? That there was no way she could welcome that baby as a grown young woman into her life?
How would Abel ever forgive her if he knew? How could she explain keeping such a massive secret from him?
No. It wasn’t to be. She needed to accept it and move on.
And for good this time.
At least now she knew that her baby had grown up well and happy. A good girl, Old Mae had told her. Her baby was a good girl. Faith. That was her name.
“Faith,” she whispered. “Faith.” She stood and went back into the house.
Chapter Two
Faith walked beside Seth on the narrow nature path through the woods. He’d grabbed her hand a few yards back which pleased her. It was peaceful, walking through in the trees with her boyfriend by her side.
“So, tell me how you’re doing,” Seth said.
A slight breeze came up, ruffling Faith’s long brown hair. “I’m doing okay.”
“Did you write?”
“I did.”
He hesitated for the briefest of seconds. “What did you say?”
“I asked Old Mae to please send the letter on to my mother.” Faith shrugged. “I have no idea whether she will.”
“Did you tell her more about yourself?”
“Yeah. A bit. Not much. I’m going to write again. Probably tomorrow.”
He nodded.
“I told her a bit about you.”
His eyebrows raised. “Oh, you did, did you?”
She grinned. “I did. I said you were the smartest, handsomest, most muscular, intelligent, polite, sexy guy in the world.”
He stopped walking and laughed. “You did not.”
She gave him a coy look. “Sure, I did.”
“Faith Baldwin…”
She giggled. “I love it when you call me by my full name.”
“You did not write that!”
She let go of his hand and started running. He gave chase, catching her around the waist and twirling her amidst their laughter.
“Okay! Fine! I didn’t!” she cried.
He set her down and kissed her soundly. “I knew you didn’t.”
“I did tell her a bit about you. But in a much more appropriate way.” She laughed again.
“I wish I could have met Old Mae,” he said as they resumed walking.
“I wish I could have met my mother.”
“Nancy?” Abel stood in their bedroom doorway.
“Ach, Abel. I didn’t see you there.” She’d been lying on the bed and now rose to a sitting position. She fussed with her kapp which had loosened. She stood and smoothed down her apron.
“You don’t have to get up.” Abel entered the room and shut the door behind him.
Nancy grew alarmed. Since when did he search her out in the middle of the afternoon? And since when did he shut their door to ask her something?
“We need to have a discussion.” He walked to the bed and took her hand. Then he lowered himself to the mattress and gently pulled her down beside him.
Nancy’s heart started beating wildly. Her expression tightened, and her spine stiffened. This couldn’t be good.
“I know you’ve had a babe recently. And I know that birthing always makes you weepy. I’ve come to accept that.” He sighed and pushed his brown hair from his forehead. Part of it stuck up like a fountain. Nancy stared at it as if somehow looking at his hair would evade what she knew was coming. Without thinking, she reached up and touched the stray lock, smoothing it down. Abel shuddered and grabbed her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it.
Nancy’s eyes filled with tears.
It was obvious that he was suffering—because of her.
“I want to know.” He cleared his throat, and Nancy heard his unshed tears. “I need to know what is troubling you.”
Nancy jumped off the bed and strode to the window. She looked blindly into the branches of the willow tree. A light wind tossed the leaves about in a late summer dance. She inhaled sharply.
“Nancy.” His voice was firmer now. She wasn’t going to get out of it any longer. Not unless she ignored him or refused to speak.
All her years of instruction and training bore down on her like a cart load of bricks. Honor and obey your husband. Honor and obey. Honor and obey.
How did keeping a devastating truth fit in with that?
Abel moved to her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “It’s enough,” he said. “You need to tell me now.”
Nancy nodded as tears streamed down her face. Abel handed her his handkerchief, and she blew her nose. A violent shivering started deep within her, and she couldn’t stop the shaking. Abel was looking at her now with startled concern. He took her elbow and guided her back to the bed.
“What is it?” he whispered. “What is causing all this grief?”
The baby’s cry split the air. Abel jerked from the bed and went to the door. “Debbie!” he called. “Where’s the baby?”
“Here with me, Dat,” came Debbie’s voice from down the hall.
“Take her outside for a bit,” he said and shut the door, returning to the bed. “Now, Nancy Hershberger, you’re going to tell me what’s wrong. We ain’t leaving this room till you do.”
Nancy sat hunched, her shoulders shaking. “Jah,” she choked out. “Jah.”
Abel rubbed her back. “Take a deep breath. It can’t be that bad, can it? Maybe, I can help you with it. But I have to know.”
Nancy nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Stark terror filled her. He would hate her. He would discard her. He would never, never, never forgive her. She tried again to speak, but only a strange sputtering came from her mouth.
“Nancy!” There was true alarm in his voice now. “I’ll run get your mamm.” He stood to go, but she reached out and clutched his arm, pulling him back.
“Nee. Not Mamm.” She sobbed them, great gushing cries that filled the room.
Abel took her in his arms and pressed her to him. Was this the last time he would ever hug her? Hold her? She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder.
“Nancy? Nancy! What is it?” His desperation was clear.
“All right.” She gasped. “All right.”
“Are you sure you don’t want your mamm.”
She wiped her face and blew her nose again. “I’m sure. There’s … there’s something you should know.”
The room grew still. Nancy sucked in air. She put her arms around herself. “Something from when I was a girl.”
Abel looked thoroughly confused now. “When you were a girl?”
“Jah. A teen. During rumspringa.”
She saw him stiffen.
“I got to know a lot of Englisch.” She looked at him through her tears. Her eyes burned. “They were nice. So nice.” She looked down. “There was one boy…”
She paused. She couldn’t do it. She ju
st couldn’t tell him.
“Nancy!” His voice was sharp.
“His name was Gregory Smith. I liked him.” Another breath. “He liked me.” She clenched her fists. “Too much. I liked him too much.”
Abel sat motionless. She dared to look up, and he was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was agape.
“What do you mean too much?” His voice was like a drill.
“I-I … I was with child.”
Abel jumped off the bed and gaped at her. “What?”
Her lips trembled, and she couldn’t speak. He stepped to her and grabbed her shoulders. “What?” he repeated.
“I had a baby.” She flinched as if expecting him to strike her.
But he didn’t move. He didn’t speak. She didn’t even know if he breathed.
The silence between them grew until it was a throbbing beast, ripping through her. She bit her lip and stared at her husband.
Another long minute passed, and she saw the devastation twist over Abel’s face. She watched his expression grow dark and his eyes fill with tears.
“Abel?” She could barely choke out his name. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
Without a word, he turned on his heel and left the room.
“Where’s Dat?” Jeremy asked as the family sat down to supper.
Nancy continued to dish up the potatoes, not answering. A hushed silence fell over the table. Nancy could see the children giving each other puzzled looks, but she ignored them. If she spoke, she wouldn’t be able to continue this façade.
“Mamm?” Gracie’s voice was quiet, fearful.
Nancy glanced at her.
“Where’s Dat?”
Jeremy gave his sister a reproachful look from across the table. “Be quiet, Gracie.”
Jimmy stuck out his lower lip. “She don’t have to be quiet.”
Debbie’s eyes welled with tears. “Jimmy, pass the bread,” she said.
Gracie began to cry, tears sliding down her cheeks. From beside her on the bench, Debbie put her arm around her and hugged her close.
Amish Romance: Faith's Story: Three Book Box Set Page 9
