An Amish Holiday Wedding

by Carrie Lighte

  But how could she have known making deliveries would exact such a toll on his physical health? He never mentioned his previous injuries or indicated any kind of struggle. It was only in retrospect Faith realized the source of Hunter’s awkward posture and somber expression: he was suffering.

  The last thing Faith intended to do was add to his hardship by giving information about his condition to anyone else. So, she made up her mind that when the leit asked her questions about his health—and they would ask, because they truly cared for each other—she’d refer them to him. She’d guard his secret as fiercely as if it were her own, and eventually he’d understand how trustworthy she was.

  “It’s out of the way, but could we stop at Ruth’s?” Faith asked as they neared Main Street. “I’d like to update her and say hello to Henrietta before going to the bakery.”

  Mason waited in the buggy while Faith went inside, where the two women were sipping tea in the kitchen.

  “Faith!” Henrietta exclaimed, flinging her arms around her sister-in-law. Faith hugged her back.

  Then, with characteristic candor, Henrietta pulled away and said, “I hope Hunter is doing better than you are. You look exhausted.”

  “As soon as I have a cup of kaffi, I’ll be wide awake. As for Hunter, I believe he’ll be home this afternoon, so he can tell you himself how he feels. I stopped to see if there’s anything either of you needs before I go to work.”

  “That was thoughtful,” Henrietta remarked. “But we’re as snug as can be. Don’t tell Lovina this, since she’s at home watching my kinner as well as her own, but once we were assured you and Hunter were alright, it was very peaceful spending the night here. I didn’t anticipate how much I’ll enjoy visiting you at your apartment when you move, Faith.”

  Ruth added, “Jah, but unlike me, Faith will have plenty of delicious treats on hand to offer you, such as apple fry pies. We’ve had to make do with sweet bread and honey.”

  Now that Hunter can’t deliver my goodies to Piney Hill, I doubt I’ll be moving into the apartment or even making delicious treats much longer, Faith thought. But she forced herself to smile. Before leaving, Faith told Henrietta she’d be home for supper, since Mason had brought her bicycle with them for her return trip.

  Just as she expected, when she arrived at the bakery Pearl peppered Faith with questions about Hunter.

  “Whatever happened to our dear boy?” she asked before Faith crossed the threshold of the back entrance. “I knew something was wrong, but when I asked him he told me he was fine. What did the doctors say is the matter with him?”

  Again, Faith felt overwhelmed by guilt. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with her own financial worries, might she have noticed Hunter was in no condition to go to the Palmers’ house?

  “I don’t know the correct terms for his condition, Pearl,” Faith answered truthfully. “But when he’s out of the hospital, you can ask him. Meanwhile, Ruth said the cannery should remain closed.”

  At that, Ivy emerged from the storefront. “Hunter Schwartz is in the hospital. The cannery sign says Closed. I will work here until the cannery sign says Open,” she stated definitively.

  Pearl raised an eyebrow at Faith. “It would allow one of us to dedicate ourselves to baking,” the older woman suggested.

  It would also cost Faith more money in salaries. But now that she likely wasn’t going to meet her financial goal anyway, what did it really matter if she paid Ivy for a few extra hours? Faith knew Ivy would be at a loss without a daily routine to follow, just like she was the week the cannery was closed after Ruth’s fall. Besides, Ivy provided a beneficial service to holiday shoppers: with her help in the storefront, the line would continue to move quickly.

  “We’d welcome your help until Hunter reopens the cannery, Ivy,” Faith said. “But no more baking for you—I don’t want you to burn yourself again. And it’s very important you don’t tell customers or anyone else that Hunter went to the hospital.”

  “No more baking,” Ivy agreed, before returning to the storefront. “And I won’t tell anyone Hunter Schwartz went to the hospital.”

  “As for you and me,” Faith said to Pearl, “how about if I focus on filling orders, if you don’t mind managing the register for Ivy?”

  “Of course. When it’s slow, I’ll give you a hand in the back.”

  “Neh, when it’s slow, you can take a break. You deserve one. I’ll keep up with the orders the best as I can, but if we have to turn some away, then we’ll do that. It’s not worth...not worth an accident or any tension between us, Pearl,” Faith replied, her voice warbling.

  Pearl waved her hand, saying, “It’s okay.”

  “Neh, it’s not okay. My behavior to you recently has been unacceptable. You’re not just an employee here, you’re my friend and I’m very sorry I acted so demanding after everything you’ve done to support me.”

  “It’s okay,” Pearl repeated. “I understand why you’ve been so tense. I’m sorry, too, for carrying on as I did. Sometimes I can be a bit stuck in my ways.”

  “Neh, you were right. The gingerbread men are crunchier than the round cookies and they break far too easily.” Remembering how Hunter joked about landing on the box of gingerbread men in the backseat of the buggy, and imagining his pain, Faith burst into tears.

  Pearl handed her a handkerchief and then patted her back. “There, there. You must have had a terrible fright. But Hunter’s alright now. You’ll see. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

  Everything was going to be just fine? Knowing what she did about Hunter’s injuries, the last words he’d spoken to her, the status of their deliveries and the uncertainty of her future, Faith thought Pearl’s words sounded like a hollow promise, but she lifted her head and dried her tears.

  “Enough of my sniveling,” she announced. “I should get to work—but first I think I’ll have a cream-filled doughnut. I’m famished.”

  * * *

  “I don’t need your help,” Hunter snapped. “I need my privacy.”

  The nurse scowled but said nothing. Hunter knew she probably thought because he was an Amish man, he was too modest to have a female nurse help him with his morning routine, and it was true, he was. But it was more than mere modesty that kept him from accepting her assistance—it was independence. He didn’t need help with his clothes, nor did he need to drink from a straw, like a baby from a bottle. What he needed was to have the room to himself so he could get ready to go home.

  However, once the nurse vacated the room, Hunter became heady as he tried to stand. He sat back down and waited for the room to stop spinning so he could put on the clean clothes Mason Yoder had brought him. Unable to bend at his waist, he decided to forgo wearing socks altogether. But as he attempted to wiggle his foot into his boot, his lower back was seized by a cramp that was so excruciating he stumbled forward. The male nurse, Tyler, burst through the door and caught him just in time. He assisted Hunter with his socks as well as his boots, and then briefly left, returning a minute later with a wheelchair and a cane.

  “This is your new best friend for the next several weeks,” he quipped, displaying the dark wooden stick with rubber padding on the handle and tip. “You’ll need to lean on it whenever you walk. Unless, of course, you’re out with your girlfriend, in which case, you’ve got the perfect excuse to hold her hand.”

  It annoyed Hunter how brazen the Englisch were about discussing personal relationships. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he snapped. And if I ever had a chance of courting Faith, it’s gone now.

  “Faith isn’t your girlfriend? Oh, man, that’s too bad,” Tyler replied, shaking his head. “She was so concerned about you I assumed you two were a couple. Anyway, here you go, it’s all yours.”

  When Tyler pushed the stick toward him, Hunter shook his head and muttered, “Canes are for old men.”

  Tyler shrugged. “It’s up to you i
f you take it or not. But I guarantee if you don’t, you’re going to fall and end up more miserable than you are right now.”

  Hunter eyed the young, brawny Englisch man who appeared to be the picture of health. “What would you know about falling?” he challenged. “Or about being miserable?”

  “Plenty. I broke my leg in a motorcycle accident when I was eighteen,” Tyler said. “But I was like you—too stubborn for my own good. Afterward, I refused to use a cane and one day I wiped out on a crack in a concrete sidewalk. A sidewalk! I ended up in traction.”

  Glowering, Hunter snatched the cane from Tyler’s outstretched hand. Leveraging his weight against it, he transitioned from the bed to the wheelchair, and then the nurse wheeled him to the front entrance while his mother followed behind.

  “What’s this?” Hunter asked when a taxi pulled to the curb in front of them. “Where’s our buggy? Faith brought me here in our buggy.”

  “One of the Yoder brothers took it home for us. The weather was bad overnight and the horse needed to be fed and sheltered. The hospital arranged for your transportation home because they wanted you to be comfortable. It’s all paid for, too,” his mother explained. “Wasn’t that generous?”

  “We don’t need charity from the Englisch,” Hunter snapped. “It’s bad enough we have to take it from the Amish leit.”

  As if apologizing for a temperamental child’s behavior, Hunter’s mother whispered to Tyler, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

  “I do,” Tyler said, directing his encouragement at Hunter. “But it will pass, trust me.”

  Ignoring him, Hunter used the arms of the wheelchair to push himself into a standing position. “Ach!” he hollered in anguish and frustration as he teetered.

  Tyler dived forward to steady him. “Remember your new best friend,” he reproached, placing the cane across Hunter’s knees once he was safely situated in the backseat. “You need to lean on this everywhere you go. Unless you wise up and ask a pretty redhead to hold your hand.”

  Tyler closed the door and then he escorted Hunter’s mother to the other side of the vehicle, and Iris slid into the seat next to her son. Because traveling by car made his mother nervous, Hunter usually tried to distract her with small talk, but today he was too physically and emotionally depleted to do anything other than stare out the window.

  As they sped along the Pennsylvania countryside, Hunter was reminded of the van trip that brought them to Willow Creek a month ago. Suddenly he realized he was back to square one in regard to his finances—and maybe he was even worse off than before he began working for Faith. His earnings from the deliveries wouldn’t cover the cost of his hospital stay, and he was more annoyed than comforted by his suspicion Ruth would insist on contributing to his bills. Hunter had journeyed to Willow Creek specifically to assist her; instead, he was becoming a burden. Not only was he failing to keep his aunt’s cannery running smoothly, but he was failing to support himself and his mother, and he was failing to help Faith support herself, too. If he didn’t get back on his feet again soon and accomplish what he’d set out to do, those failures would be more painful to him than his injuries ever were.

  Chapter Ten

  By Saturday afternoon, Faith was worried. She hadn’t heard a word about Hunter’s condition since she’d left the hospital. She stopped in at Schrock’s Shop on Friday because she knew Joseph had gone to see Hunter on Thursday, but all Joseph said was Hunter was asleep when he visited. Torn between wanting to respect Hunter’s privacy and wanting to offer support, Faith decided she’d wait until Monday, and if she hadn’t heard anything by then, she’d visit Ruth’s household with some treats.

  Saturday evening was the first opportunity she had to examine her bookkeeping to assess whether she could still meet her financial goal. After putting the supper dishes away, she opened her ledger at the kitchen table. Hunter had organized her accounts so fastidiously that Faith had no trouble working out the figures now. She marveled that she’d actually profited more in the past several weeks than in the previous several months combined. However, she estimated she was still at least $600 short of making the down payment on the lease. She calculated she could net up to $250 before the year’s end, but even that would be a stretch, especially now that she wasn’t baking for the festival and she had Ivy’s full-time salary to pay.

  Faith crossed her arms on top of the paperwork and buried her head in them. The future she planned was gone. It was time for her to give up. She had to accept that owning a business apparently wasn’t God’s will for her.

  “Faith?” Henrietta asked. Faith hadn’t heard her come in. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t do it.” She sniffed and raised her head. “I can’t make the lease down payment. I have until January 1 to close the bakery, move my things out and tell Pearl she doesn’t have a job anymore.”

  “But you’ve literally worn yourself to the bone trying to accomplish your goal. Look at your dress,” Henrietta said, pinching the excess fabric where it hung loosely around Faith’s waist. “You’ve worked too hard to lose your business.”

  “Apparently, I didn’t work hard enough.”

  “Sometimes, hard work isn’t what you need—what you need is graciousness.” Henrietta announced, “That’s why Noah and I decided we want to give you a loan of up to five hundred dollars.”

  “What?” Faith was incredulous. “But I thought you didn’t want me to move away from the farm!”

  “I don’t,” admitted Henrietta. “Because I’ll miss you. Don’t you know that? I have a special bond with you that I don’t share with anyone else, not with Lovina, not even with Willa. But I can’t allow my selfish desires to interfere with Gott’s plan for your life.”

  Touched by her sister-in-law’s generosity, Faith swallowed, suppressing a sob. “Henrietta, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll accept the loan. And promise me I’ll be the first person you have over for tea.”

  “I promise.” Faith giggled, throwing her arms around her sister-in-law’s shoulders. “Just don’t tell Andy—he thinks he’s coming over for peanut butter sheet cake the first day I move in.”

  As she lay in bed that night, Faith imagined how euphoric Pearl would be to hear about the loan. Ivy would be glad, as well. But the person Faith was most eager to tell was Hunter. Were it not for his partnership, she never would have come so close to meeting her goal. She fell asleep picturing his smile when she told him the great news.

  The next morning she woke to her nephews’ jubilant cheers: overnight Willow Creek had been transformed by a glittering snowfall. The little boys’ wonderment and the scintillating landscape enhanced Faith’s joy about the loan and her anticipation about seeing Hunter again.

  “Ant Faith,” Andy beckoned. “Daed said he’d take us sledding by Wheeler’s Bridge. Will you kumme, too?”

  Faith couldn’t resist. “Jah, of course. I’ll ask your daed if we can stop to see if the Miller kinner want to join us, too. I brought something home from the bakery I was planning to give them anyway.”

  Isaac Miller was delighted to accept the two loaves of bread and jar of preserves Faith brought him by way of apology, and his children were even happier to join Faith’s nephews sledding on the big hill.

  “I’ll stand at the bottom to make sure the kinner don’t veer toward the pond,” Reuben informed her. “The surface is frozen, but with the snow cover, I can’t assess how thick the ice is underneath. I wouldn’t want them to fall through.”

  Faith remained at the top of the hill, aligning the children on their sleds before giving them running pushes. She whooped and clapped as they careened down the long, gradual descent, shrieking and shouting all the way to the bottom.

  “I don’t know who’s having more fun, you or the kinner,” a soft voice said behind her.

  “Iris, hello!” Faith trilled. “I’
ve been thinking of you and Ruth, and praying for Hunter. How is he?”

  “He’s doing better physically,” Iris said. “But I’m afraid his mood is no better than what you experienced at the hospital.”

  Faith loosened her scarf around her mouth. “I was in the hospital once,” she confided. “And for about a week after I was discharged, I was so dismal I think everyone in my family wanted to send me back.”

  Iris laughed. “Jah, I figured since I couldn’t tell him to go take a walk, I’d take one myself.”

  “May I visit him?” Faith asked. “I have news that might cheer him up.”

  Iris’s face clouded over. “I don’t know if that would be a gut idea right now,” she said.

  Faith didn’t wish to exacerbate Iris’s stress. “I understand. How about if I send a quick note? Henrietta keeps a pen and paper in the buggy. I’ll walk back that way with you.”

  Faith signaled Reuben at the bottom of the hill, where the children were lobbing snowballs at him. “I’ll be right back,” she called. He gave her a thumbs-up signal before scooping a heap of snow to toss in the children’s direction.

  Iris smiled. “Hunter always enjoyed his exploits with your brothers when he was little. He’d come home and announce that when he became a daed, he was going to have at least six kinner. He thought it was great the Yoder boys had so many brothers.”

  Ignoring the barb of resentment she felt whenever the subject of large families came up, Faith drolly replied, “Spoken like someone who never had to wait his turn for the washroom.”

  “Or keep the floors clean with six boys tromping through the house!” Iris declared, and the two women didn’t stop laughing until they reached the buggy.

  Hunter, Faith wrote on a small square of paper she ripped from the bottom of Henrietta’s grocery list, I pray you are doing better each day. I look forward to seeing you when you’re ready for company. Meanwhile, I have exciting news I couldn’t wait to share: Reuben and Henrietta are providing me a loan—I get to keep the bakery! Deciding she couldn’t adequately express her appreciation for Hunter’s help on the tiny scrap of paper, Faith concluded by simply signing her name. She’d thank him in person later.