Going Home (12 page)

Noah tilted his head to one side. “Now why would you say something like that?”

“Because my faith is weak. It’s almost nonexistent.”

“Faith isn’t faith until it’s all you’re holding on to. Some folks get the idea that faith is making God do what we want Him to do.” He shook his head. “Not so. Faith is the substance of things not seen.”

“Hmm.”

“Abraham was the father of faith. When he heard God’s
voice telling him to leave and go to a new land, he went—not even knowing where he was going.”

Faith could relate to that part a little. When she’d first left home to strike out on her own, she hadn’t had a clue where she was going. She had ended up waiting tables at a restaurant in Springfield for a time.

“Faith’s like a muscle you’ve got to develop. It takes time and patience.” Noah grinned at her. “Guess that’s a little more than you were hoping to hear, jah?”

She shrugged, then nodded. “Just a bit.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Your name is Faith, so I think that means you’ve got to have faith.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She jumped up and dashed for the house before he had a chance to say anything more.

O
ne Saturday morning a few weeks after the Hertzlers’ barn raising, Faith decided to take Melinda into Seymour to check out the farmers’ market. It would give the two of them some quality time together, which they hadn’t had much of since they’d arrived in Webster County. Faith knew she’d be leaving soon. She’d driven one of her father’s buggies into town last week and phoned the talent agency in Memphis again. This time she was told that one of their agents, Brad Olsen, was interested in representing her as soon as she was ready to go back on the road. He asked that she contact him at her earliest convenience, and Faith planned to do so as soon as she could leave.

Faith felt a need to speak to Melinda in private today, encouraging her in the ways of her Amish family and helping her adjust to their new lifestyle. Besides, getting away from the farm for the day would allow Faith to do something fun—something
she was sure she would be criticized for if she did it at home. It would give Faith a chance to make another phone call, too. She needed to check in with the agency and make sure they knew she was still interested in being represented by Mr. Olsen.

After they finished browsing the market, Faith had every intention of taking Melinda to one of the local restaurants where they could listen to some country-western music. Baldy’s Café had been one of her favorite places to go when she was a teenager, so she thought about taking Melinda there. Not only did they serve succulent country fried steak, tasty pork chops, and smothered chicken, but lively country music was played on the radio.

Gathering the reins in her hands and waving good-bye to her mother, who stood watching them from the front porch, Faith guided the horse down the gravel driveway and onto the paved road in front of their farm. It was another hot, sticky day, and the breeze blowing against her face was a welcome relief. There was something to be said for riding in an open buggy on a sultry summer day.

“Too bad it’s such a pain in the wintertime,” she muttered.

“What’s a pain, Mama?” Melinda questioned.

Faith sucked in her breath. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken her thoughts out loud. The last thing she needed was for Melinda to hear negative comments about living as the Amish.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Faith reached across the seat and patted her daughter’s knee. “Mama was just thinking out loud.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“It’s not important.” Faith smiled at Melinda. “Are you excited about our day together?”

Melinda nodded. “Sure wish Susie could have come, too.”

“Maybe some other time. Today I want to spend time alone with you.”

“Will we buy something good to eat at the market?”

“We should find plenty of tasty things there, but I think we’ll have lunch at one of the local restaurants.”

“Can I have a hot dog with lots of ketchup and relish?”

“Sure,” Faith said with a nod. “You can have anything you want.”

Melinda’s lower lip protruded. “Grandma Stutzman makes me eat things I don’t like. She says I have to eat green beans and icky beets whenever they’re on the table. How come she’s so mean?”

Faith’s heart clenched. How could she leave Melinda with her parents if the child felt she was being mistreated? “Vegetables are good for you,” she replied.

“I still don’t like ’em.”

“Maybe someday you will.”

Melinda shrugged.

“Are you still missing TV and other modern things?”

“Not so much. I’d rather be out in the barn helping Grandpa with the animals than watching TV.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Mama, are you ever gonna get married again?”

Melinda’s unexpected question took Faith by surprise, and she answered it without even thinking. “No!”

“How come?”

Faith thought before replying this time. She couldn’t tell
Melinda she was against marriage because she was bitter and angry over the way Greg had treated her. The child loved her father and had no idea what had gone on behind closed doors when she’d been sound asleep. Faith had managed to keep Greg’s abusiveness hidden from their precious child, and she wouldn’t take away the pleasant memories Melinda had of her father.

“Mama, how come you don’t want to get married again?” Melinda persisted.

Faith reached for her daughter’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Because you’re all I need.”

Melinda seemed satisfied with that answer, for she smiled, leaned her head against the seat, and closed her eyes. “Wake me when we get there, okay?”

Faith smiled and clucked to the horse to get him moving a bit faster. “I will, sweet girl.”

“That Melinda sure has a way with animals,” Menno said as he joined his wife at the table for a cup of coffee. “You should have seen how easily she picked up on milking the cows.” He took a drink from his cup and set it down on the table. “I think she’s going to be a real big help to me when it comes to any of the farm chores that involve working with animals.”

Wilma grunted. “Jah, well. . .don’t get too attached to that idea. Melinda might not be around much longer.”

“Why’s that?”

“Faith might leave again—you said so yourself, remember?”

“True, but Melinda is settling in pretty well, and I really enjoy being around her.” He smiled. “So I’m hoping they’ll stay.”

“I hope so, too, but the way Faith has been acting makes me think she might not be happy living here, and if she leaves, who knows if we’ll ever see her or Melinda again?”

“You really think she’s going to leave us again?”

“Can’t say for sure, but she’s as restless as a cat walking on a hot metal roof, and I have a hunch it’s because she’s not happy here.”

He groaned.
“Mir lewe uff hoffning.”

“I know we live on hope, but we also need to face facts. And the fact is our daughter left home once because she wasn’t happy being Amish, so what’s to say she won’t do it again?”

He shrugged. Wilma was right; Faith had always had a mind of her own, and the truth was, he’d never quite gotten over her leaving home when she eighteen, nor had he completely forgiven her. He’d not said the words out loud, but he’d missed her something awful when she was away, and if she left home again, he would not only miss Faith, but her daughter, as well. “What can we do to keep them here?” he asked, reaching over to touch Wilma’s arm.

“Don’t guess there’s a whole lot we can do other than pray that she won’t leave.”

“Maybe she would stay if she knew how much her daughter liked it here.” His head bobbed up and down. “Jah, that could be all it would take. I’ll keep letting Melinda help me in the barn with the animals, and she’ll like it so much she’ll convince her mamm that living here is the best place for them to be.”

“Or maybe,” Wilma said as a slow smile spread across her
face, “Faith needs to find a good Amish man and settle down to marriage like she should have done in the first place.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if our daughter married an Amish man, she’d have to join the church and would have no reason to leave the faith.”

He picked up his cup again and took a long, slow drink. “And I suppose you have an idea as to who that prospective husband might be?”

Wilma toyed with the ribbons on her head covering. “I might.”

“Mind if I ask who?”

“Well. . .I was thinking Noah might be a good catch.”

Menno lifted one eyebrow. “Noah Hertzler?”

“Jah. He’s single, not too bad-looking, seems to be kind and helpful to his folks, and he’s a real good cook.”

Menno coughed and nearly choked on the coffee he’d put in his mouth, spitting some onto his shirt. “You’re going to try and get Faith and Noah together?”

“Maybe just give them a bit of a nudge.”

He reached for a napkin and swiped at the coffee that had dribbled onto his chin and shirt. “My advice is for you to mind your own business and let Faith do her own husband picking.”

Faith couldn’t believe how many Amish folks were at the farmers’ market. When she was a teenager, only a few from her community
had attended. Now several Amish families had booths and were selling fresh produce, quilts, and homemade craft items. Others, Faith noticed, were there merely to look, the same as she and Melinda.

Melinda pointed to a booth where an English woman was selling peanut brittle. “That looks yummy. Can we buy some, Mama?”

“I might get a box, but it will be for later—after we’ve had our lunch.”

“You like peanut brittle?” asked a deep voice from behind.

Faith whirled around. Noah Hertzler stood directly behind her, holding his straw hat in his hands and smiling in that easygoing way of his.

“Noah. I’m surprised to see you. Are you selling some of your baked goods here today?” Faith asked.

Noah twisted the brim of his hat and shuffled his feet a couple of times. “Naw, I just came to look around.”

“We’re looking around, too,” Melinda piped up. “And Mama’s gonna take me to lunch soon.”

Noah grinned at the child. “I was fixin’ to do that, as well.” He glanced over at Faith. “Would you two care to join me?”

The rhythm of Faith’s heartbeat picked up, and she drew in a deep breath, hoping to still the racing. She wasn’t sure whether it was Noah’s crooked grin or his penetrating dark eyes that made her feel so strange. No Amish man had ever affected her this way, and she found it a bit disconcerting.

Melinda tugged her hand. “Can we, Mama? Can we eat lunch with Mr. Noah?”

“Noah’s his first name, Melinda. Hertzler’s his last name.”

The child looked up at Faith with an expectant expression. “Can we have lunch with Noah?”

Faith was surprised to see her daughter’s enthusiasm over the possibility of sharing a meal with Noah. Was it because she missed her father so much, or had she taken a liking to Noah?

If Noah had been this friendly when I was a teenager, I might have taken a liking to him myself
. She popped a knuckle on her right hand.
Now where did that thought come from? Noah’s four years younger than me, so even if he had been friendly and kind to me back then, I wouldn’t have given him a second glance. Besides, his kindness could just be an act. Greg had acted kind and caring for a while, too, and look how that turned out
.

“I had planned to take Melinda to Baldy’s Café,” Faith said, pushing her troubling thoughts aside and turning to face Noah. “It was one of my favorite places to eat when I was a teenager.”

Noah waggled his dark eyebrows. “That’s one of my favorite places, too. They have some finger-lickin’ good chicken there, not to mention those yummy corn dogs.”

Melinda jumped up and down. “Yippee! We’re going to Baldy’s Café!”