Carrie Lighte - An Amish Holiday Wedding

The man seemed at a temporary loss for words. He gave her a once-over before replying, “It seems strange you’re lecturing me on common sense, when you’re the one riding a tandem bicycle pell-mell through the pitch-dark with a basket of oier strapped to the backseat. You might consider getting a headlamp.”

“For one thing, it’s not pitch-dark—there’s a full moon out. And for another, I have a headlamp,” Faith retorted, setting her bike upright and extending the kickstand.

But noting the sickly glow waning from the light on her handlebars, she recognized she probably bore the responsibility for their near-collision. Chagrinned, she added, “It does seem I need to replace my battery. I hadn’t noticed. I travel this road so often I probably could make the trip blindfolded. My name is Faith Yoder. What’s yours?”

She couldn’t tell whether it was a smile or a grimace that flickered across the man’s face. “I’m Hunter Schwartz, Ruth Graber’s great-nephew.”

Hunter Schwartz, of course. Faith had heard Hunter was bringing his mother from their home in Parkersville, Indiana, to care for Ruth. The elderly woman had broken her ankle and severely sprained her wrist after falling from a stepladder in the little cannery she owned across the street from Faith’s bakery.

Faith should have recognized Hunter from his childhood visits. If it hadn’t been so dark, she undoubtedly would have spotted the cleft in his chin and remembered his earnest brown eyes. Coupled with a valiant personality, his boyish brawniness had caused many of the young meed to dream of being courted by him the autumn he was sixteen.

“I’m sorry,” Faith apologized. “I didn’t recognize you. It’s been a long time.”

If Faith remembered correctly, the last time he’d been in Willow Creek was the year his great-uncle died. After the funeral, Hunter stayed for several months to fix Ruth’s roof and help with other household repairs. It was during harvest season, when many of the leit , or Amish people in the district, were tending their crops, and Hunter frequently helped out on the Yoders’ farm, as well as attended singings and other social events with Faith’s brothers. The following year, he’d gotten a full-time job in Indiana working for the Englisch , who limited his holiday breaks. From then on, Ruth said it made more sense for her to visit Hunter’s family in Indiana than for them to travel to Willow Creek, and he hadn’t been back since.

“ Jah , about eight years,” he answered. “I didn’t recognize you either. You’ve, er, you’ve really grown.”

She’d really grown? Faith knew what that meant, and she smoothed her skirt over her stomach. There was no denying she’d put on weight since she was a scrawny, flat-as-a-washboard tomboy, but she rather appreciated the womanly curves she once wondered if she’d ever develop. Well, she mostly appreciated them, anyway. She’d lost all but fifteen of the pounds she’d gained after Lawrence Miller broke off their courtship. Now she was down to the weight she was while she and Lawrence were courting. She didn’t consider herself fat, but she wasn’t thin by any standard. Still, she thought it was impolite for Hunter to draw attention to her size; he used to be so well mannered. But, reminding herself vanity was a sin, she shrugged off his observation.

“I suppose it was my fault I nearly ran into you. I’m grateful it’s only my oier and not your legs that are cracked,” she conceded amicably.

Hunter again looked taken aback, almost as if she’d insulted him instead of apologized. He paused before saying, “I’m sorry about your oier , too, but at least they were only intended for dessert instead of for breakfast. Most people can do without cupcakes, but not without a meal.”

Now Faith couldn’t deny feeling insulted. Who did Hunter think he was, assuming she was making the cupcakes as a mere indulgence for herself, just because she was a bit...a bit round ?

“For your information, I own a bakery in town and the oier were for cupcakes I need to make for an Englisch customer,” she sputtered as she mounted her bike. “The customer’s daed is turning seventy-five and this special birthday treat is as important to their family as your breakfast apparently is to you, so I’d better be on my way to remedy the situation. Mach’s gut , Hunter. Enjoy your morning meal.”

Without another word, she sped away as quickly as she could pedal.

* * *

Hunter rubbed his jaw, watching Faith disappear into the dark. His bewilderment about her hasty departure temporarily distracted him from the pain coursing through his lower back and legs. Had his jest about her bike riding offended her? Or was it that she expected him to have known she was a business owner? If anything, he figured he should have been insulted by her remarks. Was she trying to be funny, chastising him not to limp? And what about her remark about being grateful his legs weren’t cracked? Considering his physical condition, that was nothing short of cruel.

But as he trudged back toward his aunt’s home, Hunter realized that however unnerving Faith’s comments were, she must have made them in complete ignorance. His aunt undoubtedly told the leit in Willow Creek about the accident that took his father’s life, but she wouldn’t have necessarily told them about Hunter’s ongoing recovery from his own injuries, especially since he concealed his pain from everyone, even his family members. Besides, from what Hunter recalled, Faith Yoder simply didn’t have a cruel bone in her body. She was tough, yes. Outspoken, definitely. But Hunter remembered that as a young girl, she went out of her way to demonstrate compassion and generosity, especially toward anyone who was mistreated, ill or otherwise suffering.

Granted, Faith was no longer a young girl. It had been too dark to get more than a glimpse of her, but he’d noticed the sharp angles of her girlish face had been replaced with a becoming, feminine softness. Gone was the rash of freckles splashed across her nose; her skin appeared as lustrous and unblemished as the moon. Hunter wouldn’t have believed the same scrappy girl he’d known from his youth had blossomed into the stately young woman he encountered on the road that morning if she hadn’t told him her name: Faith Yoder. Yoder—that meant she was still unmarried, although Hunter assumed she was being courted, perhaps was even betrothed.

Imagining Faith’s suitors reminded him of Justine, the woman he’d walked out with in Indiana. She was devastated when Hunter ended their relationship after his accident a little more than a year ago. It pained him to cause her heartache, but breaking up was in her best interest: Hunter wouldn’t seriously court a woman he didn’t intend to marry, and he wouldn’t marry a woman if he couldn’t be a good provider for their family. After all, the accident cost him his job at the Englisch RV factory and it had severely limited his mobility. At the time Hunter broke up with Justine, there was no telling whether he’d even be able to walk again.

Eventually, Justine accepted another man’s offer of courtship, and now she’d be getting married in two weeks. It was exactly what Hunter prayed would happen for her, but he was still relieved he wouldn’t be in Indiana to attend her wedding. While he no longer cared for Justine the way he once did, witnessing her getting married would have emphasized how much his life had changed since they were courting. Shivering, he forced thoughts of the past from his mind.

The frosty air intensified the ache clenching his lower spine. He stopped and waited for it to pass. The long van ride from Parkersville had wreaked havoc on his body. Walking into town didn’t help much, but it was better than lying in bed, waiting for the minutes to pass and the pain to subside.