An Amish Holiday Wedding

by Carrie Lighte

  As she watched Iris trudge through the snow to Ruth’s house, it occurred to Faith that Hunter’s mother probably wanted to have more children as much as Hunter wanted to have a sibling. We don’t always get what we want, Faith reminded herself, just as she’d done the morning she hired Hunter. Back then, what she desired more than anything was to keep her bakery. And now, because of God’s abundant blessing, through hard work and help from Pearl, Hunter and her family, Faith’s business was secure. She had gotten exactly what she wanted, and she was grateful.

  So then, what was this yearning still gnawing at her heart? And why, as she plodded back toward the children, did she suddenly feel more like weeping than laughing?

  * * *

  Because the snowfall made the ground especially slippery, Hunter secluded himself in his room for most of Sunday afternoon. He was practicing walking without a cane when Ruth called to him, so he picked up the stick again and toddled into the parlor.

  Back from her stroll, his mother was warming her hands by the stove. “There’s something your ant and I want to discuss with you,” she said. “Do you need help sitting down?”

  “Neh, I can manage.” Hunter eased his body onto the sofa with the aid of his cane. “I’ve grown accustomed to using this stick. I think if I stand on a milking stool, I can maneuver myself into the buggy, so I should be able to go to town tomorrow to reopen the cannery.”

  “That’s what I want to discuss,” Ruth replied. “To be candid, I’ve decided not to renew the lease on the cannery next year, and since you’re still recovering and we haven’t continued to put up jars for the holiday season, there’s no sense reopening the shop. Instead, I’ll talk to Faith about stocking a few items on a shelf in her bakery. Now that her business is booming, I anticipate she’ll be glad to keep Ivy on permanently, provided she’s able to make her down payment.”

  If Hunter hadn’t already been seated, the magnitude of his aunt’s announcement would have knocked him flat. “I don’t understand. You’ve run the cannery for years.”

  “Jah, but the doctor told me it’s time to slow down. While I’m not ready to be put out to pasture quite yet, I do have other undertakings I’d like to focus on at home and in our community.”

  Hunter narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t like Ruth to take an Englischer’s advice, even if he was a doctor. Why hadn’t she consulted Hunter about the decision? Then he realized he was the reason she was closing shop. She probably thought he’d fallen so far behind on the sales it wasn’t worth the effort to catch up. “I’m sorry, Ant Ruth. I know I’ve disappointed you,” Hunter apologized. “But if you give me another chance—”

  Ruth cut him off. “How have you disappointed me? By injuring yourself because you were working so hard? If I had compensated you, as I should have insisted on doing, you never would have taken a second job,” she railed. “You disappointed me? Ha! You’ve seen my books. You know the business is doing fine. You, however, are not doing fine. Anyone can see that.”

  “Neh, really, I’m—”

  “Hush up and listen to your old ant, because there’s something else I need to tell you,” she warned, pointing a finger at Hunter. “Since I already set aside the down payment for next year’s lease, I want you and your mamm to have it. It will cover any outstanding bills you have in Parkersville, and it should help with your physical therapy costs, too.”

  Hunter grimaced and adjusted his posture. “Denki, that’s very generous of you, Ant Ruth, but it isn’t necessary.”

  Before his aunt could reply, Iris firmly stated, “Suh, I believe it is necessary. I appreciate that you’ve tried to protect me from worrying about our mortgage payments, but I’m aware the bills must be stacking up. Ruth and I discussed the matter earlier and I believe we should gratefully accept her gift to us. As far as the cannery goes, it’s up to Ruth to determine what to do with her business, and I know you’ll respect whatever she decides.”

  Hunter’s shoulders stiffened and he clamped his jaw shut. So, the two of them had made up their minds without so much as considering his opinion first. He felt so disregarded he could hardly look at them. “I should tend to the animals,” he said flatly.

  “Ach! I forgot,” his mother remarked as he was pulling himself to his feet. “I saw Faith by Wheeler’s Bridge when I went for my walk. She asked me to give you this.” She handed him a folded square of paper.

  Faith. Of course! She probably wanted to know when he could resume making deliveries. As Hunter shambled toward the stable, he was struck with a plan. The doctor didn’t prohibit him from riding in the buggy; he just advised him to limit the length of his journeys. Hunter figured without the cannery to manage, he could take his time running Faith’s deliveries, stopping to stretch his muscles along the way. Perhaps he could even make a few additional deliveries to local customers.

  As he hobbled toward the stable, Hunter’s mood brightened. There was still a way to help Faith meet her goal. There was still time to prove that Ruth’s gift wasn’t necessary, and that Hunter could take care of his mother, just as his father trusted him to do. And there was still hope that maybe he’d be able to support a wife and family of his own one day, too.

  When he reached the outer building, Hunter unfolded the piece of paper. The dusky light glowed enough for him to read Faith’s message. After his behavior in the hospital, Hunter wouldn’t have been surprised if she wanted to keep her distance, so he smiled to read she was eager to see him again. But his optimism plummeted with her words; Reuben and Henrietta are providing me a loan. Apparently, his services were no longer required.

  First his aunt and mother, and now Faith had lost confidence in his abilities. Even though he hadn’t given up on helping them, they’d given up on him. And why wouldn’t they? He disappointed them when they needed him most. He felt so hurt, angry and ashamed that he whacked his cane against a post—once, twice, three times before it split in half—rendering it just as broken and useless as he was.

  * * *

  Although Faith didn’t receive a visit from Hunter on Monday as she had hoped, early Tuesday morning, she heard someone drumming the back door. “Hunter!” she exclaimed as she unbolted the lock.

  “Neh, it’s me, Joseph Schrock.”

  Faith wiped the back of her hand against her brow to conceal her embarrassment. “Guder mariye, Joseph. Please kumme in. I’ll pour you a cup of kaffi.”

  “Denki, but I can’t stay. I came to town early this morning to prepare for the rush of Englisch holiday shoppers. Last night Amity and I paid a visit to Ruth Graber’s household, and I was asked to give you this.”

  Faith was so eager to read the note Joseph presented her she didn’t even inquire about Hunter’s condition. When Joseph departed, she tore open the envelope.

  Dear Faith, the message read. Faith recognized the flowery penmanship as Ruth’s, and her smile wilted; she’d assumed the note was from Hunter. I have something important concerning the cannery I’d like to speak with you about. If you could call on me at your convenience, I’d appreciate it. Ruth ended the note by asking Faith to extend her greetings to Pearl, Ivy, and Faith’s family.

  What could Ruth have to tell her about the cannery? Faith wondered if the news was related to Hunter’s injuries, and she fretted his condition had worsened. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t responded to Faith’s note? Now that Ruth invited her to stop by, Faith wouldn’t have to wait any longer to find out how Hunter was faring. If only she had known she’d be visiting, Faith would have brought from home the small “get well and thank you” gift she’d gotten for him: a reflective vest to keep him safe on his early morning walks as he recovered.

  Shortly before one o’clock, Faith told Pearl and Ivy she wouldn’t be dining with them during their break.

  “If you’re working through dinner, so will I,” Pearl offered.

  “Neh, I’m not working—I’m riding my bicycle to Ruth’s hous
e. She loves my apple fry pies and I want to deliver some while they’re still warm.”

  Pearls lips curled. “He—I mean she will appreciate them. Please give my gut wishes to Hunter while you’re there, too. Don’t hurry back. We’ll take care of everything here, won’t we, Ivy?”

  “Jah, we’ll turn the sign to Open at one thirty,” Ivy agreed, “so Faith Yoder can visit Hunter Schwartz at Ruth Graber’s house.”

  Faith laughed; although she’d been summoned to Ruth’s house by Ruth herself, there was no sense denying that seeing Hunter was her ulterior motive for taking a midday jaunt.

  “Oh, Faith, you know those are my favorite!” Ruth applauded when she discovered Faith brought apple fry pies. “Iris will put a kettle on while you warm yourself by the stove. Your cheeks are bright—it must be very cold out there.”

  “Jah, it’s freezing,” Faith admitted, glancing toward the hallway. If Hunter was in the house, she couldn’t hear him.

  While Iris was fixing a tray, Faith inquired after Ruth’s health. It was then Ruth disclosed she didn’t intend to reopen the cannery. Faith readily agreed to sell certain remaining jarred goods in her bakery, and she was delighted to accept Ivy as a permanent employee.

  “I want you to do what’s best for your well-being, Ruth, but our dinner breaks won’t be the same without you,” Faith lamented.

  “Oh, you won’t be rid of me—I plan to join you fine women for dinner as often as possible,” Ruth promised as she handed Faith the key to the cannery and a list of goods to sell.

  “Has Hunter tried your apple fry pies?” Iris questioned when she returned with a tray of teacups. “He loves your baking.”

  “Why don’t you beckon him?” Ruth suggested. “I believe he’s out by the stable.”

  “Of course.” Faith grinned and donned her shawl, scarf and gloves.

  She approached the building just as Hunter tottered out of it, balancing against what looked like a walking stick whittled from a tree limb. She didn’t know if he was scowling from pain or merely squinting against the sunlight, but she was so tickled to see him she rushed in his direction.

  “Guder nammidaag, Hunter,” she said. “It’s wunderbaar to see you out and about!”

  “Were you expecting me to be bedridden?” he asked. There was a hardness about his mouth and jaw that indicated he wasn’t jesting.

  “Neh. I only meant I’m happy to see you. I’ve been praying for you and wondering how you’re feeling.”

  Hunter frowned. “What are you doing here in the middle of the day?” he asked without addressing her concern.

  “Ruth needed to talk to me, and I wanted to bring her some apple fry pies. We’re about to have them with tea.”

  “You’d better get back inside, then.”

  Although his dismissal hurt, Faith thought perhaps she hadn’t made it clear he was invited, too. “Would you like to join us?” she asked.

  “Neh,” was his succinct reply.

  Faith felt buffaloed by his bluntness. Was he upset with her? Was that why he wasn’t conversing or acknowledging the big news in her note? After working so hard to help her accomplish her goal, Faith thought Hunter would have been pleased she was getting a loan. Did he feel slighted that she hadn’t expressed more appreciation?

  “Alright, but I can’t leave without saying denki for all your help recently. I don’t know what I would have done without—”

  Hunter didn’t allow her to complete her sentiment. “Running deliveries was my job and you already paid me for my service. There’s no need to say denki again.”

  Faith’s mouth dropped open. He was making it clear he no longer considered her to be a friend; he considered her to be an employer—a former employer, at that. Maybe even a stranger, given the distant look in his eyes. Faith was crushed. “Oh, okay, then,” she uttered. “Mach’s gut, Hunter.”

  She swiveled toward the house and was halfway across the yard when she dashed back to where he loitered at the threshold of the stable. Like the bakery, their relationship meant too much to Faith to let it go without doing everything she could to save it.

  Peering into his dark, impassive eyes, Faith implored, “I’m so sorry I pushed you to make a second trip to the Palmers’ house during the ice storm. If you hadn’t helped me with that last-minute delivery, you wouldn’t have strained your back. I don’t blame you for being angry with me. If you’ll let me, I’ll do anything I can to help you as you recover. I just hope in time you’ll forgive me.”

  Hunter’s expression remained as unyielding as the frozen ground beneath their feet. “I understand the bakery is the center of your life, Faith, but neither you nor it is responsible for my injuries, so there’s nothing for me to forgive. As for my recovery, I don’t need or want your help.”

  His caustic remarks made Faith’s eyes smart, but she managed to hold back her tears. She suspected Hunter’s indifference and self-sufficiency were a facade to conceal how wounded he felt. She should know; she had often acted that way herself. Perhaps by inviting Hunter into her secret sorrow, she could draw him out of his.

  “I appreciate that struggling with a health issue can be a lonely, frightening experience,” she began.

  * * *

  “What would you know about my struggles?” Hunter jeered, balancing his weight to thrust his walking stick under Faith’s nose. “What would you know about walking down the street using one of these? Or about losing your job because you can’t move half as fast as you used to?”

  Although he noticed Faith’s face blanch and her eyes fill, Hunter couldn’t seem to stop himself from haranguing her. “How often do you lie in bed counting every second until your muscle spasms subside? Did you ever hesitate to hold a bobbel because you’re afraid your back might seize up and you’ll drop him? And speaking of bobblin, when was the last time someone laced your boots for you, as if you were a pitiful little kind?”

  Faith wiped a tear from her cheek. “I am so sorry that you’ve been—that you are—suffering. It’s true, I don’t know what your pain feels like. But I do know what it feels like to have a body that isn’t capable...that isn’t exactly as I wish it would be.”

  “Ha!” Hunter roared, glaring down at her. “Being a couple of pounds overweight isn’t anything like having chronic back, hip and leg pain. All you have to do is go on a diet for a few days. I have months, maybe years, of physical therapy to endure. Expenses aside, do you have any idea how exacting that’s going to be? So don’t you dare whine about your weight to me!”

  Faith gasped, momentarily recoiling. Then she thrust her hands onto her hips, stepped forward and bore into him with her eyes as she retorted, “For your information, I wasn’t referring to my weight, but denki for pointing out I should go on a diet. I’ll start by forgoing the apple fry pies I brought. Please tell your ant and your mamm I’m sorry I had to leave, but something ruined my appetite.”

  Agape, Hunter watched Faith storm to where she’d leaned her bicycle against a tree. Before getting on, she whirled around and shouted, “If you want people to stop treating you like a pitiful little kind, then you ought to start acting like a man, Hunter Schwartz!”

  Hunter was so peeved he might have broken his walking stick just as he’d broken his cane if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of his mother in the picture window. The two women inside undoubtedly watched—and possibly heard—his altercation with Faith as it unfolded, and they were probably shaking their heads about it now. He didn’t care. His words may have seemed unkind but they weren’t untrue, and it was a relief to have admitted how he felt.

  He pulled open the door to the stable and went inside where they couldn’t see him walking without his stick. Navigating the interior from post to post, he seethed over Faith’s departing comment. She might as well have kicked him in the shins for the blow she delivered to his manhood by telling him he was acting like a kind. After all he’d done
to disguise his pain so he could help her with deliveries! If there was any consolation in Ruth shutting down the cannery, it was that Hunter wouldn’t have to return to Main Street. I don’t care if I never see Faith again, he thought. I can’t return to Indiana soon enough.

  Around and around he paced until his fuming was interrupted by his mother’s voice. “Hunter?” she said from the entryway. “You must be deep in thought—you didn’t hear me calling your name.”

  “Oh,” he said noncommittally. He hoped she wasn’t going to press him for information about what transpired between Faith and him.

  Instead, she perched on a bale of hay, hugged her shawl tightly around her and said, “There’s something I wanted to say the other day, but not in front of Ruth. Could you please stop your marching and kumme sit for a moment?” His mother patted the hay.

  Hunter hadn’t realized he was still moving. He gingerly lowered himself into a sitting position on the bale of hay. “What is it you’d like to discuss?” he asked.

  “Living here with your ant has been a blessing to me. Caring for her has helped me stop focusing on my grief over losing your daed. I won’t ever stop missing him, but I clearly see now that the Lord still has work for me to do. I believe part of that work is to care for Ruth in her later years. It’s what she needs, and it helps ease my loneliness, too.”

  Hunter gulped, fearing his mother wished to extend their stay in Willow Creek.

  “I think you and I are opposites,” she said. “You’re more like your daed. You need to learn to rely more on other people and I need to learn to stop relying on them so much. I’ve leaned heavily on you since your daed died, and it’s time I stand on my own two feet again—with more of Gott’s help and less of yours.”