Healing Faith (8 page)

"Nathan," I started, but his eyes stopped me. They
held more than embarrassment, they seemed almost angry.

"Pleasant evening, Katherine. You have no need to be
burdened by me. Good night," he said and strode away towards his
house, the heavy basket in his arms forcing him to struggle up the
hill.

I stood there and watched his broad back once more as
it retreated from me, so similar to the night before. I didn't know
what I had done to upset him, but once again I had turned him away.
He disappeared over the hill and I felt the sadness at his leaving.
I didn't know what it was, but whenever he was near, I felt the
pull of something comforting. Safe even, despite his acrid tone to
me a moment ago.

I shook my head and forcefully pulled down the sheets
that remained, folding them quickly before striding back into the
house and wanting to forget all about Nathan Fisher. He was nothing
to me. I needed to forget the Amish man.

Regardless of his poem.

Regardless of the way he stared at me.

I would still leave.

It was better this way.

"Nathan was here and he left?" Fannie asked, surprise
in her face.

I simply nodded.

"What did he say? This is the second night that he
has not come for supper! I do not understand what is amiss with
that boy!" she exclaimed and turned towards the kitchen porch as if
to leave.

"Fannie, my lovely wife, he is his own man. If he
wishes to starve that is his own right. I am sure he is upset that
you took him in order. Give him a day or two to bury his pride. He
will return," Jonah said softly from the head of the table.

She paused in the doorway, looking out towards
Nathan's farm before turning back in resignation. Maybe it was the
lighting in the room, but her eyes looked glassier than usual. I
didn't have the courage to tell them that I was the reason he
didn't want to stay for supper. Perhaps it was selfish of me to
want to hide the fact that he was troubled to be around me.

We sat and ate a quiet meal, Fannie watching Jonah as
if to have a silent conversation across the table. Even Abigail was
quiet, glancing at me occasionally before returning to her meal. I
was hungry, my body wanted sustenance, but I picked at my meal,
eating little while my stomach churned. When the meal was finished,
we cleared away the dishes and made quick work of putting the food
away for the next day. I fought my yawns behind my hand until Jonah
finally announced the end of the day, just as he had the day
before.

"A good day by God's graces! Let us to bed, tomorrow
will be a busy day!" he said, following us up the stairs.

Emma closed the door quietly and turned to smile at
me.

"You have had a busy day, Katherine. If I did not
know better, I would say you are taking to our Way better than
most. You may even find yourself happy here," she said and winked
at me before she started her ritual of disrobing.

Down to my shift, I climbed into bed gratefully and
yawned once more. Abigail was already asleep in her bed, drifting
off immediately just as she had the night before. Emma slipped in
quickly and set the candle into a small lantern holder, smiling as
she settled in next to me. I waited quietly for her to extinguish
the candle so that we could fall asleep. Instead, she continued to
watch me, fingering the casing of her pillow as I shifted under her
scrutiny.

"Nathan is an interesting boy," she started. Already
I could feel my stomach knot just at his name.

"I guess," I whispered, trying to sound
disinterested. Even I could hear the lame attempt.

She shifted in the bed, her eyes thoughtful.

"My mother told you about what happened to his
family?"

I nodded.

"Nathan feels guilty over it."

I frowned at her statement and propped my head up on
my elbow to regard her better in the dim light.

“Why does he feel guilty, he didn't give them the
flu, did he?" I asked.

She shook her head and sighed, a sad faraway look on
her face.

"No, he did not. But he was away when they became
ill. He was in Missouri with the Bishop on a missionary trip for
our community. Nathan was always concerned with others. It was said
that he could easily be voted in as a minister, if not chosen by
God to become Bishop, he was that driven to do God’s work. When he
received word of his family's health, he rushed back, only to
return to his mother's deathbed. The rest of the family had died
the day before. He was left to take over the farm, despite my
father's assurance that our family would take care of it for him
while he found himself during his Rumspringa," she explained, her
voice a low whisper, as if Nathan's story was the most private
secret of the community.

"What is Rumspringa?"

"The Rumspringa is a time when our youth is allowed
to explore themselves, to see if the way of the Amish is the right
path,” she explained. “We come of age at sixteen, and from then, we
are to make our way in the world, see for ourselves what is right
for our destiny. Some go out into your world, to see how the
English live, and some stay here to openly court the one they wish
to make a life with. Ultimately most return and are reborn into our
faith."

"So you get to choose this life?" I asked, only to
put my hand over my mouth again at how insensitive that truly
sounded. Emma only smiled and nodded.

"Yes, Katherine. Do not be embarrassed. I can
understand from an outsider's point of view how it can be
surprising that more do not remain in your world, with all its
diversions and temptations. You have only seen the small part of
our lives. But we are all joined with a purpose, to live life fully
and enjoy the benefits of what God has given us. Rumspringa allows
us to see not only your life, but what we have to offer, and to
respect our lifestyle that much more," she replied.

I thought about it for a moment and could see their
logic. I supposed college was our equivalent to their Rumspringa.
We left home to find ourselves. To experiment with that which was
unknown but tantalizing to try. Some found their way, some did not.
But ultimately, we found our place in the world. Not that I
had.

Yet.

Maybe this experience of running away and coming to
live with the Amish was my Rumspringa in a sense, my place to
figure out who I was. It was a way to find what I needed. Peculiar
that I had found them by chance, and discovered more about their
simple life and how it drew me in. I was learning more about myself
every moment I spent with the Amish.

What an alarming revelation that I found myself
here.

Emma might be right, in that I could possibly find
happiness in this lifestyle.

But I had only been here a day. Nathan had been Amish
his whole life.

"And Nathan hasn't done this Rumspringa yet?" I
asked, thinking again about how much Nathan had on his shoulders,
and how he had lost his chance at finding who he was. He felt some
sense of responsibility that I doubted many men his age even had a
clue about.

Emma shook her head and sighed again.

"He had decided long ago that he would forgo
searching the outside when he chose to follow God’s Word. He would
have taken the baptismal classes this last spring. Everything
changed when his family died. He turned his back on everything. The
church, his chance to explore the world, everything. My father and
mother worry for him in that he is a proud person, even if we do
not accept pride in our hearts. He is determined to succeed. He
would rather starve than admit he is in need. I am sure he is
hungry tonight. Your meal this morning is the only meal he has
eaten in a couple days, I am sure," she said softly, her dark eyes
penetrating mine.

If I didn't feel guilty before, I certainly did after
her observation. I had made Nathan uncomfortable, I knew. So
uncomfortable that he would willingly starve than sit near me at a
meal. I couldn't sleep peacefully while he sat in that large house,
alone with a solitary table and chair and a bed, and nothing else.
Not while he was hungry and I was full.

His suffering only made me feel worse.

"Did you know that you can follow the moon to his
house? I did so many times at night to play with his sister when
our parents slept. It is not difficult to find.”

I looked warily into Emma's eyes, her thoughts
unreadable as she waited for me to respond. I blinked at the
thought that played in my head.

She wasn't suggesting I go there, was she?

"Mother and Father sleep soundly, but the back porch
squeaks."

I opened my mouth to ask her if she meant what I
thought she was saying when she smiled and yawned widely.

"Goodnight, Katherine. I will leave the lantern in
case you feel the need to get a drink of water from the kitchen,"
she said and closed her eyes, a sly smile on her face.

I sat there in the semi dark for several minutes,
trying to make up my mind as to whether I should do as she
suggested. I waited until her breath slowed before slipping out of
bed quietly. I scrambled to get my clothes back on, leaving my
shoes off as I snuck downstairs into the kitchen; the only light
that of the little candle lantern of Emma's. I put my shoes on in
silence, tiptoeing towards the refrigerator. On a shelf, right in
front, sat a large, cloth-covered plate with a meal large enough
for a growing young man. I glanced towards the staircase, half
suspecting Fannie to appear behind me, fully clothed and preparing
to do the same thing I was about to do.

No one materialized out of the dark, and as I quietly
made my way out through the front door, and down the porch steps,
still no one came after me. With the lantern in one hand, and the
moon as my guide I made my way towards the field I had watched
Nathan disappear into twice now. I had no frame of reference in the
dark, and that scared me.

The idea that I could be walking in the wrong
direction, a plate of food that coyotes would fight for, only to
get hopelessly lost made me question the sanity of my actions. The
fact that Nathan had gone without food pushed me forward. He might
be a stranger to me, but he suffered because of me. Perhaps I had a
little too much pride as well. I wouldn’t let him suffer on my
account. It was in my nature to make sure I took care of those that
needed it.

The breeze fluttered through the corn, the sheaths
making an eerie rasping sound as I passed. I could make out the lay
of the land as I crested the low rising hill, and I breathed a
little easier when I saw the large white house at the bottom, its
white siding seeming to glow in the near full moon. The entire
hillside was bathed in its cool blue brilliance, painting an almost
alien landscape.

I made my way down the hill, fully intending to
simply leave the plate by the doorstep, to knock and run for my
life. But as I neared the house, I noticed a warm glow coming from
the front room, the same room that held Nathan's solitary table and
chair. My heart sped up at the thought of him writing another poem.
Although I had no idea what it might be about, given the course of
events during the day, I hoped that perhaps it might be about
me.

Curiosity is a wicked thing.

Perhaps the Amish would be able to recite a passage
regarding one's downfall from curiosity. I could barely remember my
purpose for coming as I slipped in silence onto his porch and to
the nearby window. I felt like a peeping Tom, but the desire to see
Nathan, at his desk and writing beat down any moral conflict I had
over spying into his private life. I closed my eyes in preparation
and let out a calming breath.

I didn't realize the window was open. My eyes opened
to Nathan at his table, pen poised over the paper, looking towards
the window I hid behind. Dark, lonely eyes locked on mine for a
second before I stumbled aside and pressed myself against the
sidewall, my heart racing at being caught.

I wanted to flee.

Run. Run away. Again. But my feet were rooted to the
floor of Nathan's porch.

Even when the door opened and Nathan stood there,
silhouetted in the soft candlelight from his house, I could not
run. He was clothed in one of the sleeveless undershirts I had
washed for him and soft grey trousers, the suspenders dangling at
his hips. His strong shoulders were framed in the doorway, a long
graceful arm holding the battered screen door open. The candlelight
seemed to set his face in fiery relief, his stubble glowing along
his strong jaw. He let out a soft breath, just a whisper.

"Kate."

The energy in the air changed dramatically, from a
soft breeze to a crackle of electricity that seemed to exist only
between Nathan and me. I swallowed as I watched him take a step
towards me, his hands moving to his mouth, rubbing the rough golden
stubble around his lips. Still my feet would not move. A dangerous
warming filled my gut, expanding through my body as he took another
tentative step towards me.

I knew I should run.

He was a stranger.

I was alone.

Another step and the charge heightened so that the
hairs at the base of my scalp now tingled.

He could overpower me so easily.

No one knew I was here, except Emma who was surely
asleep by now.

"What are you doing here, Kate? It is late," he
asked, his voice barely audible over the rushing blood in my
ears.

Run. Flee. Another step.

Those troubled, dark eyes watching me warily, the
fear I felt inside mirrored in the insecurity I could see in his.
What was he afraid of?

"You must be hungry," I whispered, the only words I
could think of. It was the reason I was there.

Nathan licked at his lips, sucking the bottom lip
into his mouth for a moment as his eyes wandered down to the
covered plate in my trembling hand. He swallowed hard and cast his
eyes back up to mine, more guarded as he watched me shift on my
feet before him.