Carrie Lighte - An Amish Holiday Wedding

Swallowing the last of his coffee, Hunter decided although he might not be able to provide for a wife and he was floundering in caring for his mother, the least he could do was manage his aunt’s shop without accepting a cent for it. He’d always had an interest in bookkeeping; perhaps the experience would afford him new skills he could use in Indiana.

“We’re family and we’re here to help, Ant Ruth,” he finally stated. “Provided there’s absolutely no more talk of payment, I’ll be glad to oversee your cannery.”

Yet as he hitched his horse to the post in town, he was anything but glad. Rather, his legs were so sore and stiff they felt like two planks nailed to his hips. He tottered down Main Street with a basket of eggs, hoping he didn’t appear as conspicuous as he felt.

Stopping beneath the simply carved sign that read Yoder’s Bakery, Hunter noticed a smaller cardboard sign propped in the window. “Early morning delivery person URGENTLY needed. November 27‒December 24. Willow Creek to Piney Hill. Inquire within,” it said. He wondered how “early” was early. Could he make the deliveries and still return to Willow Creek in time to open the cannery? Would Faith even consider him for the job, given their interaction that morning?

Hunter squinted through the spotless glass window. The bakery contained five or six small tables with chairs. Beyond the cozy dining space was a pastry case and behind that Faith was stacking bread on a shelf. Hunter noticed what had been too dim to see earlier: the fiery red hair of her youth had faded to a richer, subdued shade of auburn.

“Do you see something in there you think you’d like?” a woman behind him asked. “Everything we make is excellent.”

Embarrassed, Hunter turned and stuttered, “You—you work there?”

“I do. My name is Pearl Hostetler. But wait—aren’t you Hunter, Ruth’s nephew?” the tall, thin, silver-haired woman asked.

“I am,” he answered sheepishly. “It’s gut to see you again.”

“It’s wunderbaar to see you, Hunter,” Pearl said, placing her hand on his arm. “Ruth told me about your daed . I was very sorry to hear what happened.”

“Denki.” He coughed, surprised by the emotion Pearl’s sincere sympathy elicited. He extended the basket of eggs. “I brought these for Faith. Hers broke this morning when she was cycling into town. Also, I’m... I’m interested in hearing more about the delivery job.”

Hunter hoped Pearl would simply receive the basket and provide him details about the job, but she pushed the door open and announced, “Look who’s here, Faith. Hunter brought you oier and he wants to be your deliveryman, as well!”

Noticing Faith’s eyes narrow, Hunter didn’t wish to appear too eager. He clarified, “I’d like to hear more about the job, that is.”

“It’s pretty straightforward,” Faith replied, brushing her hands against her apron. “I need someone unfailingly dependable to deliver my baked goods to an Englisch booth at the Piney Hill Festival between seven and seven thirty every morning, Monday through Saturday. The festival begins in less than two weeks, on the day after Thanksgiving, and runs until the day before Grischtdaag . The delivery person would have to commit for the duration of the festival in order to make it worth my while to rent booth space.”

Mentally calculating the distance between the bakery and Piney Hill, Hunter was certain he could complete the deliveries, return the horse and buggy to his aunt’s home and walk to town with a good fifteen minutes to spare before the cannery opened at nine o’clock. And when Pearl blurted out the sum he’d earn for each delivery, Hunter was confident the arrangement was an answer to his prayers.

Looking Faith in the eye, he said, “Beginning Monday, I’ll be managing Ruth’s shop from nine until five o’clock, but I’d be available in the early morning to make deliveries for the duration of the festival.”

Faith nodded slowly. “ Jah , I’d appreciate that. The job is yours,” she confirmed. She paused as a mischievous grin crossed her face. “But I do hope you’re more careful about where you steer than you are about where you walk. My sales are very important to me.”

“Your sales will be fine, provided you bake better than you bike,” Hunter retorted, giving her an equally rascally smirk before setting the eggs on a table and exiting the store.

As he stepped into the brightening day, he realized Ruth was right: the trip had been worth his while. Being a part-time deliveryman for Faith Yoder might not have been his first choice for employment, but it was a steady, paying job, and that was all that mattered to him.

Chapter Two

After the door closed behind Hunter, Pearl dramatically clasped her hands together. “Ach! What a relief that is! I was beginning to think we weren’t going to be able to sell our goods at the festival.”

Hosted by a neighboring town right off the main interstate, the Piney Hill Christmas Festival was an enormous, commercial Englisch endeavor attracting thousands of passersby shopping for Christmas. Part of its appeal was the “Christmas Kingdom”—an elaborate prefabricated “Santa’s Workshop” where children could have their photos taken with Santa. The bishop didn’t prohibit the Amish leit from selling their goods at the festival, as long as they only rented space at booths hosted by the Englisch and didn’t staff the booths themselves.

“Jah,” Faith said, tentatively optimistic. “Although there’s no guarantee we’ll sell enough at the festival to make the down payment, without it, we wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“It’s a gut thing Hunter is in town again, both for Ruth and for us,” Pearl gushed, hanging her shawl on a peg inside the hall leading to the kitchen. “Hasn’t he grown into a fine, strapping young man?”

Although Hunter’s mature physique hadn’t escaped Faith’s notice, she didn’t know quite what to make of his personality. He definitely seemed more personable just now than he’d been on the road earlier that morning, and bringing her eggs was a nice gesture, but that might have been at Ruth’s urging. Before Faith could respond, the phone rang and Pearl grabbed the receiver. “Yoder’s Bakery, how may I help you?”

Landlines and electricity weren’t allowed in Amish homes, but the Ordnung permitted them to be used for business purposes in their district, provided the buildings were owned by the Englisch . The bakery utilized both electricity and a phone, but neither service would be continued in the overhead apartment once the current tenant moved out, making it permissible for Faith to live there.

After hanging up, Pearl waved a slip of paper. “Another pie order for Thanksgiving! Two apple and one sawdust. If this keeps up, you’ll have to start turning down orders.”

“Not if I want to keep the bakery, I won’t. I’ll bake every night until midnight if I have to.”

Although one of her chores growing up included baking for her family, Faith hadn’t always enjoyed the responsibility. But while she was recovering from surgery, she began experimenting with dessert recipes. She soon discovered that even among the Amish she possessed an unusual talent for making goodies, and she reveled in the process of creating savory treats. That autumn, she made cakes for her second-oldest brother Noah’s wedding to Lovina that were so scrumptious several guests requested she bake for their special occasions, too. Faith’s business was born.

Sharing a kitchen with Henrietta proved to be impractical for both of them, however, so eventually Faith rented her current space. The bakery was the one good thing that resulted from her surgery, and she had no intention of letting it go without doing everything she could to raise the income for the down payment for her lease. So, when an Englisch customer called to say he couldn’t pick up his large, unpaid order by the time the bakery closed at five, Faith continued to make pies to freeze for Thanksgiving until he showed up. It was six thirty by the time she finally locked the door behind her.