An Amish Holiday Wedding. Carrie Lighte

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       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.

      A frosty gust nearly blew her outer bonnet off her head as she pedaled uphill in the dark toward the big farmhouse. She meant to purchase a new battery at the mercantile during her dinner break, but she’d been so busy she didn’t stop for an afternoon meal. Ravenous, she hoped her family hadn’t worried about her when she missed supper.

      “There you are,” Henrietta said when Faith entered the kitchen. Her cheek was smudged with flour and she was jostling her youngest son on her hip. Utensils and ingredients were spread in disarray across the table. “Didn’t you remember you were going to help make the bread for dinner tomorrow?”

      The following day was their Sunday to host church worship services and they would need to serve a light dinner to everyone in attendance. Henrietta usually provided the traditional after-church meal of bread with “church peanut butter,” homemade bologna, cheese, pickles and pickled beets. An assortment of desserts were supplied by other women in the district.

      “Ach! I forgot,” admitted Faith.

      “You mustn’t put earning money before the needs of the church,” Henrietta scolded.

      Faith hung her head. She wouldn’t have stayed so late waiting for the customer if she’d remembered she promised to help bake bread after supper. Still, the fact that she’d forgotten indicated her priorities were on her business, not on the church.

      “I’m sorry,” she earnestly apologized. “I’ll make the bread as soon as I’ve had something to eat.”

      “Something to eat? Your ant works in a bakery all day and she expects us to believe she hasn’t had anything to eat,” Henrietta cooed to the infant, who drooled when she tickled the fold of skin beneath his chin. “Do you believe that? Do you?”

      Unsure whether her sister-in-law was joking or not, Faith ignored СКАЧАТЬ