An Amish Holiday Wedding

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” Faith promised. “When exactly was she last in the store?”

Hunter stammered, “She—she was just there fifteen minutes ago. It was quarter to one. I told her I’d eat my dinner in the back room and when I was finished she could kumme here to take her dinner break with you.”

Faith immediately knew what the problem was, but she didn’t have time to explain it to Hunter. She glanced at Pearl, who was already tying her winter bonnet beneath her chin.

“I’ll check the other Main Street shops for her, but meanwhile you’d better get to the pond,” Pearl advised. “She has a fifteen-minute head start.”

Grabbing her shawl, Faith asked Hunter if he’d brought his buggy into town.

“Neh. I walked.”

“Follow me, then,” she urged and led him through the kitchen and out the back door. She wheeled her tandem bicycle away from the wall it was leaning against.

“You can take the backseat, I’ll steer,” she instructed. Although the pond was situated right down the hill from his aunt’s house, Hunter was so dazed Faith wasn’t sure he’d remember where to turn off the main road.

“We’re going to ride the bike?” Hunter asked. He seemed to be moving in slow motion and Faith wondered what was wrong with him. Was he in shock?

“Jah, now hop on,” Faith ordered, hoping her no-nonsense attitude would bring him to his senses. “I’ll tell you more as we ride, but for now I need you to pedal as hard as you can.”

They wobbled a bit as they started down the secondary road running parallel to busy Main Street, but after three or four rotations, Faith felt the bicycle surge forward and suddenly they were sailing. She immediately recognized Hunter’s reputation for stamina was well earned: the heavy bike never glided so briskly when Faith rode it alone. If she weren’t so distraught about Ivy, she might have enjoyed the rush of nippy November air against her cheeks as they cruised along together.

“Where are we going?” Hunter shouted.

“Wheeler’s Bridge,” Faith spoke loudly over her shoulder.

The covered bridge spanned the far end of Willow Creek, which wound its way through much of the farmland in the area, including the Yoders’ property. As a small, single-lane structure, the bridge was mostly used by Amish buggies or by tourists taking photos. It was situated just before the point where the current pooled into a deep and sizable pond.

Faith noticed an immediate lag in their speed as Hunter gasped. “Do you think Ivy might have jumped off the bridge?”

“Neh, neh! Of course not. Ach, I’m so sorry, I should have explained.” Faith panted. She felt terrible to have alarmed him, but she was winded from talking and pedaling. “When Ivy gets upset, she goes to the pond and hides under the bridge. No one knows why. Usually, she crouches on the embankment underneath it, where she’s relatively safe. Our fear is she might slip and fall into the water. Like most Amish in Willow Creek, she can’t swim.”

The bike jerked forward as Hunter rapidly increased his pedaling again.

Touched by his unspoken concern, Faith promised, “It’s going to be alright, Hunter.”

“I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight,” he lamented. “There weren’t any customers in the store. They were the ones I thought I had to watch. I never thought Ivy would leave.”

“I know it’s upsetting, but it’s not your fault,” Faith tried to comfort him as they rounded the final bend. “It happens so often Pearl gave her the nickname Wandering Ivy.”

“Look! Under there!” Hunter whooped. “I see bright blue. It’s her dress. Steer right, Faith, right!”

“I’m steering, I’m steering!” Faith declared, giddy with relief as she angled the handlebars to the right.

It didn’t take long to coax Ivy from beneath the bridge. For one thing, the girl had neglected to put on her shawl before leaving, and the air was bitterly cold. For another, Faith promised they’d share a cream-filled doughnut when they returned, warning Ivy they’d have to hurry back before the sweets were sold out.

“Hunter Schwartz didn’t want to eat dinner with Faith Yoder,” Ivy mumbled as Faith took off her own shawl and wound it around Ivy’s shoulders.

“That’s okay,” Faith patiently explained. “Men don’t always like to eat dinner with women, especially if they aren’t well acquainted with them. Maybe Hunter will join us one day for a special occasion after he gets to know us better. And when Ruth returns to the shop, she’ll eat with us again. Until then, you may kumme to the bakery by yourself for your dinner break.”

This compromise seemed to be acceptable to Ivy, who nodded and repeated the phrase, “Men don’t always like to eat dinner with women.”

“Here,” Hunter said to Faith. He slipped off his coat and placed it over her shoulders. It was still warm from his body, and as she snuggled it tightly around her, she felt as if she’d received an affectionate embrace. Such a silly thought! she told herself. It’s no different from me letting Ivy use my shawl.

Since Ivy didn’t know how to ride a bicycle and it seemed unwise for Faith to leave her alone with Hunter since she’d just been so upset by him, the three of them sauntered back to town together. With Faith limping, Hunter pushing the bicycle and Ivy stopping every five yards to adjust her borrowed shawl, it took them over an hour to return. But at least Ivy was happy: there was one—and only one—cream-filled doughnut left in the display case.

“Denki,” Faith mouthed to Pearl, who undoubtedly saved the doughnut, knowing Faith would have used it as leverage to bring Ivy back. They’d been down this road before.

Faith sighed as she heard the clock strike three. She’d have to stay at the bakery past supper time again if she was going to catch up with the baking, and Henrietta undoubtedly would have something to say about her tardiness. Still, Faith had missed dinner and she was so hungry that the apprehension she felt about eating in front of Hunter was all but forgotten.

When he came in from stowing her bike in the back, she asked, “Would you like a hot cup of kaffi? A little dessert after our long walk, perhaps?”

“That’s kind of you to offer, but I’ve got to get back to the shop,” he said. “I’ve been away from it too long. Who knows how many sales I already lost?”

As if that’s my fault! Faith bristled inwardly, noticing he was standing in that wooden manner of his again, as if on guard against her friendliness, and the tenderness she’d felt toward him on their bike ride vanished.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” she replied, lifting his coat from her shoulders. “And don’t forget to take this.”

I hardly need a man’s coat wrapped around me anyway, she thought. The ovens in my bakery will keep me plenty warm.

* * *

Faith turned on her heel and disappeared into the kitchen before Hunter had the opportunity to thank her for her help. He stood by the table where Ivy was eating her doughnut, awkwardly holding his hat in front of him, unsure whether to wait until she finished or to leave without her.

“If you’d like, I’ll see to it Ivy returns when she’s finished,” Pearl suggested.

“I’d appreciate that,” Hunter said. He glanced toward the kitchen, wondering if Faith might reappear. When she didn’t, he requested, “Would you please tell Faith I said denki for—”

He was going to say, for helping me find Ivy, but the young girl seemed to be absorbing his every word as she licked chocolate from the top of her treat. He didn’t want to offend her by drawing attention to the fact she’d run away.

“Please tell her I said denki for the bicycle ride. I appreciated it that she knew where to—er, that she showed me the pond,” he finished, and Pearl winked at him above Ivy’s head.