Amish Romance: Faith's Story: Three Book Box Set Page 6

  The air blew in warm, filling her car with the fresh smell of summer. Her hair, which she’d left down, whipped behind her back, tangling on the headrest. She inhaled deeply and enjoyed the lovely morning. There wasn’t much traffic on the road. She’d opted for a highway instead of the interstate. Still, she passed the occasional semi, but other than that, only a few motorcycles and a car or two. The easy driving allowed her mind to wander. She thought over the last couple days. Even though she was disappointed, she had enjoyed being in the Amish community. There was a peace there and an easy pace which had given her a feeling of coming home.

  Strange, really. She liked speed, and she liked multi-tasking. She was good at it, too. Her friends were always miffed at her, complaining that she was able to get her homework done in record time while they languished for hours. But there in Landover Creek, Faith had fallen into a slower pace. Even eating at the bed and breakfast seemed to take a bit longer, and the food seemed to taste better.

  Was she deluding herself? Trying to make the Amish way of life appear better and more appealing? Was she trying so hard to acknowledge her roots that she was creating a fantasy?

  She groaned. Why did she always, always, always have to over-analyze everything to death? She was sick of it. Why couldn’t she just enjoy what each experience brought? Why did she have to beat everything into small organized boxes that she could label and place on a mental shelf?

  She smirked at the funny image.

  Hollybrook, ninety-six more miles. Less than two hours, probably. She pushed the gas pedal a bit harder, taking her speed to a few miles per hour over the limit. Hadn’t she heard once that police didn’t mind it if you were within five miles per hour of the posted speed limit? Or had she just made that up? She shrugged and kept her speed where it was.

  Hollybrook was a medium-sized town as far as towns in Indiana went. Maybe a bit on the smaller side. There was definite evidence of an Amish presence. First of all, she spotted more than one horse and buggy as she cruised slowly down the main street. Then, there were a few shops boasting the word Amish in their names. She also had passed more than one fruit and vegetable stand in front of houses on the edge of town that were conspicuous in their lack of electrical lines running to the property. Many side yards had clotheslines with garments of all sizes flapping in the breeze.

  She pulled over to the side of the road and gazed all around. She liked it here, too. Hollybrook gave off a nice vibe. She got out and popped her head into a beauty salon.

  “Excuse me,” she said to a painfully thin woman who was wrist deep in hair dye. “Can you tell me where King’s Bed and Breakfast is located?”

  “Sure can,” the woman replied with a surprisingly deep voice. “Go to the corner, hang a right. When you get to the intersection, turn right again. Follow that road, and you’ll see the sign on the left.”

  “Corner. Right. Intersection. Right again. I think I’ve got it.” Faith smiled her thanks and left the shop. Prudence had told her about King’s Bed and Breakfast, telling her that in the beginning it had been Byler’s Bed and Breakfast. But the widow woman who ran it had remarried, and so the name had changed. The woman’s name was Naomi King.

  Faith found it easily, just as the hairdresser had instructed her. The large white house had a huge porch. White rockers sat there, like a warm invitation to sit for a spell. Faith pulled her car up close to the porch, noting there was another car there, too. She hoped Naomi had a vacant room for her.

  She got out and approached the front door, knocking on the screen door.

  A woman came, wiping her hands on her apron. She was probably about six months pregnant. “Hello,” she said with a smile. Her eyes twinkled. “Can I help you?”

  “Are you Naomi?” Faith asked.

  “That I am.”

  “I’d like to stay for a few nights, if that’s all right. To be honest, I’m not sure how long.”

  “You can stay as long as you like. I have a vacant bedroom in the daadi haus. You’ll be sharing the house with a young family from Kentucky. I hope you won’t mind. You’ll have to share the bathroom and the kitchen and front room area. You’ll have your own bedroom, though.”

  Faith nodded. “That sounds good.”

  “I don’t know if you’re aware, but this is a true Amish experience. No electricity.”

  Faith raised her brows. So, there wasn’t electricity in the guest portion of this house like in Landover Creek. She hesitated. She only really needed electricity to charge her phone. Other than that, she’d be fine. And wasn’t this what she wanted? To experience Amish life as much as possible? Besides, in an emergency, she could start her car and charge her phone there.

  “That will be fine,” she said.

  Naomi turned back into the house. “Katy?” she called. “Can you come see to our new guest?”

  A girl, probably in her early teens came bounding to the door. “Jah, Mamm.” She beheld Faith. “We’ll need you to sign in, and then I’ll take you around back.” She gestured toward an opened ledger set on a small desk. “Do you like apple muffins?”

  Faith grinned. “I sure do.”

  “I’m just baking some. I’ll bring one out to you when they cool a bit.”

  “How nice,” Faith said, warming instantly to the girl. Perhaps they could become friends.

  After Faith signed the ledger, Katy led her outside where they nearly smacked right into an elderly Amish woman. She had to be close to eighty years old, but her black eyes snapped with energy and enthusiasm.

  “Old Mae!” Katy exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

  “I need to keep an eye on your mamm, girl. You know that.”

  Katy laughed. “That you do. She’s inside.”

  The old woman gave Faith an appraising look and then bustled into the house without knocking or announcing her presence.

  “That was Old Mae,” Katy said, taking Faith around back to a tidy-looking smaller house. “She’s like our doctor here. And the midwife. I think she’s helped birth every one of us in the district.”

  Faith perked up. “Everyone?” she asked.

  Katy tipped her head. “I’d say so. She’s lived forever.”

  “I’d like to meet her,” Faith said. If the woman had helped every baby in the area into the world like Katy said, then maybe, just maybe, she’d helped bring her into the world. Her heart began to race. Could this woman know the truth? Could she help Faith in her search?

  “You’d like to meet her?” Katy asked, staring. “I can ask her, but I have to warn you. She’s not too fond of fancy types.”

  “I’m not so fancy, am I?”

  Katy grinned. “Well, you aren’t Amish. You’re fancy, all right.”

  Faith put her things away with shaking hands. Her room was simple, with a single bed complete with the expected lovely quilt, and a small dresser. There were pegs around the wall for hanging clothes just like in Landover Creek. Faith could hardly concentrate on what she was doing. Her stomach was in a frenzy, nearly cramping with excitement. This could be it.

  Even after her self-scolding in the car that very morning, Faith couldn’t help but believe that Old Mae could assist her. Faith knew that statistically, it had to be a long shot, and things weren’t in her favor. But something inside her had clicked when Katy told her about the woman. An inaudible click, but there all the same. Faith knew how ridiculous that would sound if she said it out loud.

  She sank to the edge of the bed and gripped her cell phone so tightly, it dug into her skin. Should she call her mother? Or Seth? It seemed like she should call someone to tell them about this possibility. She stared at the screen where her fingers perspired against the surface. She dropped the phone. No. It would be foolish to call in her present state. She doubted she could make a coherent sentence.

  “Faith?” Katy’s voice called from the front room.

  Faith jerked to her feet and jolted out of her room. She faced both Katy and the old woman.

  O
ld Mae looked at her boldly, giving Faith a frank once-over. Then she shuffled to the rocker sitting next to the warming stove and sat down.

  Katy looked between the two of them and then with a worried frown, she left the daadi haus.

  “Sit down, child,” the woman said.

  Faith obeyed.

  “You wanted to meet me?”

  “Yes.” Faith’s voice was no more than a whisper. A full-out sweat covered her now, and her throat was so tight, she could hardly breathe.

  “Why?”

  Faith gulped. Dare she tell the truth? She looked into the woman’s all-knowing eyes and knew she could never fool her with a lie. Or even a half truth.

  Nor would she want to. The woman’s open face and expectant expression compelled her to confess all.

  “I’m Amish,” Faith blurted out. Her eyes filled with instant tears.

  Old Mae nodded her head. “I figured it was something like that.”

  Faith gaped at her. “You did?”

  The woman nodded again. “So, you were raised fancy.”

  Now, it was Faith’s turn to nod.

  “Adopted?”

  “Yes.”

  Old Mae’s face closed up then, and her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Please,” Faith sputtered. “Can you help me?”

  The woman began to rock, her feet pushing a rhythm against the floor. She continued to stare at Faith, until Faith wanted to shrink against her chair to avoid being fully exposed.

  The silence was broken only as the repeated creaks from the rocking chair split the air like exclamation points. Faith remained quiet, not having the foggiest idea what to do or say. Somehow, she felt that this wizened woman held her entire life in her hands. A shiver crept up her spine, and she had to work to remain seated in her chair.

  “You think I know something,” the woman finally said.

  Faith blinked. “Yes.” Again, her word was a mere whisper.

  “Chances are good that I do.” The woman planted her feet into the floor, and her rocking came to an abrupt halt. “Don’t rightly know that I can give out any information.”

  “Please.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Faith blanched. Why indeed? She gasped in a few short breaths. “I want to know who I am.”

  “Birthing don’t make you Amish,” the woman said.

  “I know that. But there’s something missing inside me.” Faith looked about her, almost frantic to present her case properly. If she angered or annoyed the woman, she would get no information at all.

  “That something missing is likely the Lord Gott,” the woman observed.

  “No, no…” Faith began. “I’m a believer. I am. It’s just that, well, it’s just that I need to know more.” She leaned forward. “I need to know who I am. If I’m Amish. I mean, well, if I’m Amish by birth, which my adoptive mother says I am. I-I want to know my roots. My Amish roots.”

  “You surely know we don’t take kindly to outsiders.”

  “I know that. I do. But what if I’m not an outsider?” Faith gripped the arms of her chair. “What if I want to live Amish? What then?”

  A deafening silence roared through Faith’s ears. What had she just said? That she wanted to live Amish? She clasped her hand over her mouth, her eyes bulging from her head. What had she just said? She jerked back in her chair against the wooden slats and stared at Old Mae.

  Old Mae was leaning toward her now. Her wrinkled face puckered first into a frown and then relaxed, her jowls hanging loosely on either side of her mouth.

  “Ah, child,” she said. “Dear child.” She hoisted herself up and took a step toward Faith. Faith was weeping freely now, hot tears running down her face. Old Mae touched her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Child, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

  Faith shook her head, and a sweeping certainty rushed through her. “But I do.” She touched Old Mae’s fingers on her shoulder. “At least, I think I do.”

  Old Mae seated herself again with a low groan. “You think you were carried in the womb by an Amish girl. And so, you think you’re Amish, and you want to be Amish. Am I understanding this right?”

  Faith swiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. “I don’t know for sure.” Her voice shook. “But I have to find out. Don’t I?”

  Her question hung in the air.

  Mae was quiet and began rocking again. This time, Faith saw compassion in the old woman’s eyes.

  “Can you help me?”

  “Probably.”

  Air gushed from Faith’s lips, and she jumped from her chair. “Really? Really? You can?”

  Old Mae patted her back into her chair. “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen. Almost twenty. I was born in September. The fifth.” Faith gave her the year and everything else her mother had told her, which admittedly was not much.

  “Your adoptive parents come from Illinois?”

  “Yes. That’s where I live now.”

  Old Mae nodded her head.

  “But the most important thing is I think my mother’s name is Nancy.”

  Old Mae stopped rocking.

  Faith’s eyes bore into Old Mae’s. “You remember, don’t you?” she cried. “You remember her! Oh please, who is she?”

  Mae said nothing.

  “Please!”

  Old Mae shifted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I might remember something, and I might not.”

  “Anything at all. Please. Anything you can remember.”

  Old Mae stood up, and her rocker skidded back a few inches. “I’ll be going now.”

  Faith gaped at her, perplexed. “I won’t cause problems. I promise.”

  Mae paused. “You already have, child.” She walked to the screen door and pushed it open with a squawk. “I’ll check into things. You staying here a while?”

  “Yes. Yes. As long as it takes.” Faith hurried after the woman. “You’ll tell me something? After you check?”

  Old Mae gave her a long, although not unkind, look and shrugged, the conversation obviously over. She wasn’t going to say more.

  Faith gripped the edge of the screen door and watched the elderly woman cross the yard, one shuffling step at a time. When she was out of sight, Faith stumbled back to her room and sank to her bed. She was close. She could feel it with every cell in her body. She was going to know who her birth mother was soon.

  Oh, please, she prayed. Please let Mae tell me. Please, God. Please.

  Chapter Nine

  Nancy stood at her bedroom window looking below at the tidy front yard. It stretched out green and verdant to the road. She noted that the lilac bushes could do with a trimming now that the flowers had come and gone. She loved the smell of lilacs. Such a shame that they bloomed for such a short time.

  She leaned her head against the top pane of glass. Thinking about lilacs was a good distraction, but it wouldn’t serve for long. Nancy gave a heavy sigh. Her heart pained within her. It was time. She’d always known that someday the moment would come, but she’d successfully put it off for years.

  Tears welled in her eyes and both dread and fear spread through her like slow molasses dripping down the sides of a jar. Abel deserves to know. She clenched the white curtains at the side of the window, unconsciously wadding them into fistfuls of fabric as her knuckles turned white.

  She’d been forgiven, hadn’t she? Her mother had insisted that she visit the bishop in Hollybrook before leaving town that September so many years before. Nancy only remembered feeling like a limp rag when her mother had forced her up the bishop’s steps and into his front room. Her tears wouldn’t stop, and she was hardly able to speak. But her mother had spoken for her. Loud and clear.

  Her mother had done most everything for her during those months. Made her decisions for her. Hidden her. Cared for her. Spoken for her.

  She’d been Nancy’s rock.

  Nancy sucked in a huge breath. Then why didn’t Nancy ever feel grateful for it? Why d
id she resent her mother for years? Oh, she’d tried not to. How she’d tried not to. Nancy knew that she must love and obey her parents. She’d tried over and over to forgive her mother, to love her, to be thankful for her. But the seething anger never truly left. When she’d sat at her mother’s bedside during her mother’s illness and death scare, she had acted lovingly. She’d been tender with her.

  But it had been an act.

  Truth be told, Nancy had never recovered from the loss of her first daughter. Never. It had stained everything in her life.

  And Abel didn’t know. No one knew. Only her parents, her aunt, the woman who had delivered her baby, and the bishop in Hollybrook. No one else.

  She didn’t know why her lost baby was so strongly on her mind of late. It wasn’t unusual for Nancy to suffer more powerfully after each birth of her other children. But Miriam was six months old now. The intensity should have lessened. And Abel was wondering what was wrong with her.

  How many years was she going to continue deceiving him?

  Her mother had told her never to tell a soul what had happened, so she hadn’t. But now, she wondered at that wisdom. Wasn’t the truth slowly strangling her? And shouldn’t her husband know? Her mind flicked to Gregory Smith. What had happened to him? And didn’t he deserve to know that he had a daughter?

  “Nancy?” Abel asked, moving close. He stood behind her, and she leaned back into him. “You all right?”

  She swallowed. Now, she thought. Tell him now.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m fine. I thought I’d pick tomatoes first thing this morning.”

  Someone was knocking on her bedroom door. Faith got up and opened it.

  “Faith?” Katy said. “Someone is here to see you. He’s at the big house.”

  Faith frowned. “He?”

  Katy nodded and turned to leave the daadi haus.