An Amish Holiday Wedding. Carrie Lighte

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      While Hunter contemplated how best to respond, Penelope swatted at Lawrence with the end of her shawl. “I’ve heard it said that it’s a farmer’s wife’s work that is never done,” she taunted.

      “That, too,” Lawrence allowed.

      “Business owners don’t exactly sit around twiddling their thumbs, and Katie has her hands full as a schoolteacher, too,” Faith countered over her shoulder. Hunter chortled inwardly in appreciation of her feisty tone. She was never one to let her brothers claim their work was more important or difficult than anyone else’s, including hers, when they were kids.

      “Jah, that’s probably true,” Penelope concurred. “Oh! Speaking of business owners, I almost forgot. Lawrence and I want you to make the cakes for our wedding, don’t we, Lawrence?”

      “Jah, if she’s willing.”

      “Of course I’m willing, but please give me your exact order ten days in advance. I know Lawrence prefers everything to be just so, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint him,” Faith said without slowing or turning to face them. Did Hunter detect a note of sarcasm in her reply?

      “I will,” Penelope agreed happily. “Hunter, you must attend our wedding, too. All of the leit from Lawrence’s church are invited. We’ll match you up with a—”

      “There’s the bridge,” Faith interrupted, and Hunter was thankful she’d saved him from embarrassment once again. She scampered down the rocky embankment, and the others followed.

      Each step seemed to jar Hunter’s hip bones against their sockets as he descended the slope. The small bridge was weathered and a few boards were missing, but it rose in a functional arc above the shallow current, just as he’d remembered.

      “It’s as good as new,” Mason jested, confidently crossing it to the other side. He held out his hand for Katie to join him.

      Katie stalled reluctantly. “I don’t know... I might be too heavy for a kinner’s bridge.”

      “Don’t you trust my workmanship?” Mason teased, so she darted across the planks.

      Penelope took her turn, and then Lawrence stepped onto the structure. “You call this durable?” he gibed, stomping on the bridge with the heel of his boot. “This board here feels a little loose.”

      After Lawrence crossed, Hunter waited for Faith, who seemed to be dillydallying. “Ladies first,” he uttered patiently.

      Faith hesitated before placing one foot onto the bridge. As she lifted her back foot from the shore, the waterlogged board beneath her front foot gave way.

      From the parallel embankment, Katie shrieked, “Help her!”

      It happened so suddenly and his joints were so stiff, Hunter wasn’t able to spring forward quickly enough to prevent Faith from falling. Her front leg wedged through the crack into the creek while her upper torso lurched forward onto the bridge.

      Mason and Lawrence raced down the opposite bank while Hunter bolted into the icy current from his side of the water. With one foot dangling in the creek, Faith was using her dry, bent leg and her arms to try to crawl onto the bridge.

      “Are you hurt?” Mason asked.

      “I’m stuck!” she yelped, red-faced. “Stop pulling me! You’re making it worse.”

      “I’ve got her,” Hunter said authoritatively. “I’ll lift her up so you can free her leg. Be careful. Here, Faith, lean back against me.”

      From behind, he gently wrapped his arms around her waist and clasped her to his chest until Lawrence and Mason eased her leg from between the planks. Then he carried her to the embankment. Her stocking was torn and her leg was scraped from her ankle to her knee, but it didn’t appear to be seriously injured.

      Kneeling before her, Hunter hesitated. He feared his legs would lock up on him, but he offered, “If it hurts your ankle to walk on it, I can carry you back to the house.”

      “Neh,” she snapped and what seemed like a look of disgust clouded her face. He didn’t blame her; he might as well have pushed her into the creek for as slowly as he’d moved to prevent her from falling in.

      Then she quietly added, “Denki, but my foot is fine. It’s just very cold, so I’m going to hurry up ahead.”

      Katie, who had waded over to be sure Faith was alright, said, “My feet are wet and cold, too, so I’ll go with you.” She linked her arm through Faith’s for support and they scuttled away.

      Stranded on the opposite bank without a bridge to cross, Penelope called, “What about me? Lawrence, help!” until Lawrence waded across the water, hefted her to his shoulder as easily as a sack of grain and waded back, setting her down next to Mason and Hunter.

      The four of them walked in silence the rest of the way, too chilled to speak. In fact, until Katie mentioned her feet were wet, Hunter hadn’t realized his legs were, too. The icy water had made them so numb that for once he wasn’t aware they’d ever been hurt at all. Wishing the same could be said of his self-esteem, Hunter kept his chin tucked to his chest as he tramped against the wind.

       Chapter Three

      On Sunday night, Faith rose so many times to don her prayer kapp and kneel beside her bed that she feared she’d wake her two nephews, ages three and five, who slept on the other side of the divider in the tiny room she shared with them. Each time she finished praying, she was certain she’d thought her final uncharitable thought, but another one would come to mind as soon as she slid back under the quilt and she’d have to ask the Lord to forgive her all over again.

      Much of her resentment was directed at Lawrence, whom she blamed for her clumsy plunge into the creek. If he hadn’t deliberately trampled over the bridge like a big ox, the board wouldn’t have broken when it was her turn to cross. She was equally piqued by Penelope’s constant chatter and references to her upcoming wedding. Faith understood the young woman was barely eighteen, but it seemed she could have exercised a bit more discretion.

      Yet oddly, it was Hunter’s conduct that ruffled her most. Rationally, she knew he was being helpful, but she was utterly mortified when he wrapped his arms around her midsection and held her above the water. Not to mention how embarrassed she was by the pained expression on his face right before he offered to carry her home. He couldn’t have appeared more daunted if he’d volunteered to shoulder a dairy cow!

      She admitted she was overweight, but she wasn’t that overweight. Wasn’t Hunter supposed to possess extraordinary strength, anyway? Wasn’t that what Mason and Lawrence claimed? She remembered his youthful vitality, too, just like she remembered how popular he was. But what good did either of those qualities do him now, if he couldn’t be gracious enough to overlook the fact she was no longer “a little wisp of a thing”? Not that she wanted his assistance, but he didn’t have to pull such a face when he offered it—especially in front of Lawrence and his skinny fiancée, Penelope.

      Faith socked her pillow. With the exception of the afternoon she confided her secret to Lawrence, she’d never felt so unfeminine and humiliated as she’d felt that afternoon. By the time she СКАЧАТЬ