An Amish Holiday Wedding. Carrie Lighte
with none of us knowing how to swim. It was a gut thing your daed heard our cries and ran to give us his hand.”
Now a shadow troubled Faith’s countenance. “Sometimes I wish my daed would still kumme running to give me his hand, even though I’m no longer a kind and it’s been five years since he died,” she lamented.
Hunter hadn’t meant to stir up sad memories. “I’m sorry about your daed. I have fond memories of him,” he said. He was quiet before adding, “My own daed died a little over a year ago, so I understand why you miss yours.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, too, Hunter,” Faith murmured, her hazel eyes welling with empathy. “I should have said as much yesterday. My brothers were especially grieved to hear about the accident. Ruth mentioned you were hurt in it as well, but I’m grateful to see Gott answered all our prayers by healing you.”
Not wishing to admit he wasn’t fully recovered, Hunter blew on his fingers and then changed the subject. “A lot has changed since we were kinner. Who would have expected little Faith Yoder would grow up to own a bakery?”
A furrow momentarily creased Faith’s brow before she straightened her posture and asked, “And what about you? Do you still work at the RV factory?”
Pushing his hat up, Hunter massaged his forehead. The crick in his spine seemed to be traveling upward, giving him a headache. He didn’t want to be dishonest with Faith, but he was concerned if people knew about his job loss, he might become the object of gossip. Or worse, the object of pity.
“I—I—” he stuttered.
His sentence was cut short by Mason calling out, “Faith! Hunter! We’ve been looking for you!”
Faith’s brother traipsed down the hill in their direction, and Lawrence Miller ambled a few paces behind. They were followed by two young women. Hunter sensed the questions he’d been dreading had only just begun.
* * *
As she watched her peers approach, Faith felt uncharacteristically peevish.
Ordinarily, she relished the time she spent chatting with the other women during Sabbath dinner cleanup, but today Lawrence’s fiancée, Penelope Lapp—an eighteen-year-old deacon’s daughter who lived in a neighboring town—was visiting her relatives in Willow Creek. After church, Faith overheard Penelope fawning over Henrietta’s infant, claiming she hoped God would bless her with a baby by this time next year.
Although Faith no longer felt any romantic attachment to Lawrence, it distressed her to be reminded of why they’d broken up. She escaped to the creek to gather her composure, only to be discovered by Hunter, who pointed out what a “little wisp of a thing” she used to be and made her sentimental by calling to mind a long-forgotten memory of her departed father.
If all that weren’t unsettling enough, now she was going to have to exchange pleasantries with Lawrence!
“Hunter, how gut it is to see you,” Mason said, clapping him on the back.
Lawrence did the same and Hunter responded in kind.
“Please meet Katie Fisher,” Faith’s brother said. “She’s the schoolteacher here.”
“And this is Penelope Lapp,” Lawrence stated. “My intended.”
“Your intended?” Hunter repeated.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Lawrence ribbed him. “I’m twenty-two, almost twenty-three. It’s past time for me to marry and start a family.”
Faith winced, supposing if it weren’t for the time he lost courting her, Lawrence wouldn’t feel his marriage and family plans were behind schedule.
“How about you, Hunter?” Penelope asked. “Are you betrothed or walking out with someone?”
“Neh,” was all he said.
“Neh? That’s a surprise,” Lawrence replied. To Penelope, he explained, “Hunter lived here for a while when he was sixteen and he was so sought after, he had his choice of meed. He could have courted anyone he wanted.”
Faith’s irritation was becoming more difficult to suppress—it sounded as if Lawrence were describing horses at an auction, not young women.
“Did you want him to court you, Faith?” Penelope asked.
“I was only thirteen!” Faith exclaimed. “Despite what some people may think, not every maedel’s sole dream is to get married as soon as she possibly can.”
She was appalled by Penelope’s nerve. Even if Faith had developed a crush on someone as a schoolgirl, it wasn’t something she’d discuss, especially not in front of male acquaintances. Courtships and romance among the Amish tended to be private matters.
“He didn’t court or even favor anyone, if I recall,” Lawrence said. “He claimed he didn’t believe in courting unless he intended to marry, and since he was only sixteen and lived in Indiana, there was no point in walking out with anyone here. He was probably the only person who actually attended our singings just for the singing.”
Penelope sniggled but Katie asserted, “I attended singings in my district primarily for the singing when I was a youth. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Faith smiled at the stout, dark-haired woman. She always appreciated Katie’s forthright manner, and she was glad Mason was walking out with her. When Faith glanced at Hunter, she noticed he was shifting his weight from foot to foot, as if embarrassed by the conversation. She couldn’t blame him and she quickly switched topics.
“Speaking of youth, Hunter and I were just talking about how you boys used to spend time down here at the creek,” she said to Mason. “Do you remember the footbridge?”
“Jah, of course.” Mason regaled the others with the anecdote about their footbridge disaster and subsequent submersion in the creek.
“After your daed pulled us out, he promised if you finished the fieldwork early the following week, he’d help us build a sturdier bridge,” Hunter recalled.
“Jah, and you were so excited that after working all day for Ruth, you’d come and help us every evening in the fields and on Saturday, as well,” Mason reminisced, shaking his head. “My daed frequently commented about what a strong, dedicated worker you were. I often had to ask Gott to forgive my envy.”
“He’s still strong—look at those shoulders,” Lawrence observed, lightly punching Hunter’s arm.
Faith wasn’t certain if she imagined it, but Hunter’s face seemed to go gray. Was it modesty or the cold wind that caused him to set his jaw like that? Although as a boy, he was as congenial as could be, there was something stilted about his posture now that gave him an air of aloofness. Ordinarily, Faith would have been put off by an unsociable demeanor, but she sensed Hunter was uncomfortable with the attention, and she wanted to spare him further uneasiness.
“The bridge is still standing,” she informed Hunter. “This past summer I brought my nephew down to the water so he could cross it.”
Hunter visibly relaxed his shoulders. “I’m not surprised,” he said, looking directly at Faith as he smiled. “Your daed made sure it was durable.”
“I’d like to see it,” Penelope suggested. “Why don’t the men lead the way?”
Faith had never taken Lawrence to the bridge before, and she didn’t want him visiting it now. The bridge belonged to another part of her life; it belonged to her dad and brothers and nephews—and even to Hunter. But not to Lawrence. “I really ought to return to the house—” she started to say.
“There’s no need to hurry back,” insisted Penelope. “If you’re hungry, there will still be leftovers in another hour. And it’s not as if you need to dash to the evening singing