LITMIR.BIZ

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sighed. First things first. She set about mixing yeast with hot water. Although she preferred baking more elaborate goodies, several of her Englisch customers depended on her for homemade bread. Every purchase counted if she was going to meet her financial goal by the first of the year, which was only a month and a half away.

      That was the deadline the Englisch landlord required for the down payment on next year’s lease. In addition to the small storefront and kitchen, Faith would also rent the one-room apartment above the shop, since the current tenant was moving out. He was the third resident to leave in four years, and with each turnover, there had been a three-or four-month delay before a new resident moved in. Disgruntled by the gap in revenue, the landlord was adamant that from now on, the apartment and building space were to be a package deal. Faith either had to rent both or lose the bakery to Seth Helmuth, who wanted to set up a leather shop in the prime location downstairs and use the upstairs apartment for storage and supplies. But Faith had first dibs, and although the down payment amount was more than she had saved, she was arduously working to earn the total sum.

      “Won’t you be lonely, living all by yourself?” Pearl asked when she discovered Faith would be moving into the apartment.

      Living alone wasn’t something most Amish women voluntarily chose to do, and as someone who dearly missed her three children who moved out of state, Pearl couldn’t fathom why the opportunity might appeal to Faith.

      “I won’t have time to be lonely,” Faith responded. “I’ll wake up and kumme right down here, where I’ll have the privilege of working with you and visiting our neighbors and serving our customers. I’ll spend the better part of Sundays and holidays with my family and with the church. The only difference is I won’t have to ride my brothers’ old hand-me-down tandem bicycle to get here each day.”

      Faith’s sister-in-law Henrietta was even more dismayed about Faith’s decision.

      “You can’t allow her to separate herself from the family like this,” she once told Faith’s oldest brother, Reuben.

      “The Ordnung doesn’t forbid it, so neither do I,” Reuben replied. “Faith is a thoughtful person. I trust she prayed about this decision and is aware of the challenges.”

      As the eldest son, Reuben became the head of the family when their daed died five years earlier, since their mamm had passed away five years before then. Reuben and Henrietta lived in the large Yoder farmhouse with their three young sons, Faith and four of her five other brothers. The fifth brother, Noah, lived with his wife, Lovina, and their children in a small adjoining daadi haus. Faith knew she’d always have a place and purpose within her family, but given how cramped their dwelling was, she couldn’t understand why Henrietta objected to her moving.

      “If you live alone, you’ll appear uncooperative or proud. You’ve already got one significant reason a man wouldn’t wish to marry you—do you want to make it even more difficult to find a mate?” her sister-in-law asked her.

      While Faith knew Henrietta had her best interests at heart, her words stung. The “significant reason” a man wouldn’t wish to marry her was Faith’s most intimate secret, something only family members knew. Well, only family members and Lawrence Miller. Faith felt compelled to confide in her former suitor after he asked her to marry him two years ago.

      She vigorously kneaded a lump of dough as she recalled the afternoon she disclosed her secret to him. She’d been so nervous she hadn’t eaten for two days, and when she finally worked up the courage to tell him, she was uncharacteristically tearful.

      “There’s a possibility I might not be able to bear kinner,” she confessed, chewing her lip to keep herself from weeping.

      The color drained from Lawrence’s long, thin face as he slowly shook his head. That’s what Faith remembered most clearly—his shaking his head without saying a word.

      She was too modest to explain that the year she turned seventeen, she had surgery to remove dozens of cysts from her ovaries. The cysts were benign, but the doctor warned the surgery caused scarring that could result in infertility. At the time, her relief over not having the kind of cancer that claimed her mother’s life outweighed any concern Faith had about not bearing children. She hadn’t fully appreciated the repercussions of the surgery until she and Lawrence began walking out and planning a future together.

      “I know how upsetting this must be to hear,” she consoled him. “But if it turns out I can’t become, well, you know... We might consider adopting—”

      She may as well have suggested flying an Englisch rocket to the moon to retrieve a child there for how preposterous Lawrence claimed her idea was. Adoption took too much time, he said, and it was too costly to adopt one child, much less the six or eight he was hoping to have.

      “The doctor said there’s a possibility I won’t be able to have kinner,” Faith emphasized in between the sobs she no longer tried to stifle. “It’s only a possibility.”

      “I’m sorry, Faith, but that’s not good enough for me,” he said.

      She knew he meant she wasn’t good enough for him. She was damaged. Scarred. Less than a woman. She understood then that she’d probably never marry—at least, not until she was much older, or unless a widower with children of his own sought to court her. And since she wouldn’t marry, there was no sense courting, either. But Faith didn’t mind because it meant she’d never have to tell any man her secret ever again. The rejection and the shame of disclosing her condition were more than she could bear a second time.

      She clapped the flour from her hands as if to banish the memory of Lawrence from her mind. Regardless of what Henrietta or anyone else said, she didn’t need a mate to take care of her. With God’s grace, she’d take care of herself just fine. As for living alone, she was looking forward to it.

      For the moment, she had six dozen lemon cupcakes with lemon buttercream frosting to prepare for the Englischer who’d pick them up at eleven o’clock. She started mixing the ingredients, using every egg that wasn’t required for the egg wash for the bread. She’d have to forgo making doughnuts until later, but her customers would just have to settle for something else.

      We don’t always get what we want, she thought as she mixed the batter into a smooth, creamy texture. But we can make the most of the options we have.

      Which was exactly what she intended to do herself. No matter what anyone thought about her decision to live alone, Faith was determined not to lose the bakery. A few cracked eggs or critical remarks weren’t going to keep her from accomplishing her goal. Nor was a future without a husband going to keep her from being happy.

      * * *

      During breakfast, Hunter’s aunt asked if he’d assist her with a significant undertaking.

      “Of course I’ll help you, Ant Ruth. That’s why I’m here. I’m happy to make house repairs and tend to the yard and stable. Do you need me to take you to your doctor’s appointments, as well?”

      “Jah, I have appointments coming up soon. But what I really need you to do is oversee my shop. It’s been closed for the past week, and Thanksgiving and Grischtdaag are just around the bend. They’re my busiest seasons.”

      Hunter took a large bite of biscuit so his mouth was too full to respond. His uncle owned a furniture restoration business, with his main workshop at home and a smaller storefront in town. After he died, Ruth converted the space in town into a cannery, where she sold jams, relishes, fruits and chow chow. Hunter knew nothing about canning, and he didn’t particularly care to learn.

      As if reading his mind, Ruth explained, “You wouldn’t be expected to do the canning. I’ve put up plenty of jars for now, and harvest season is over. If the shelves run low, your mamm has agreed to help with the canning, although she’ll have to use store-bought produce for the ingredients, which is what I sometimes do in the winter.”

      “You

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