Going Home

 
Going
Home

O
THER
B
OOKS BY
W
ANDA
E. B
RUNSTETTER:

D
AUGHTERS OF
L
ANCASTER
C
OUNTY
S
ERIES

The Storekeeper’s Daughter
The Quilter’s Daughter
The Bishop’s Daughter

B
RIDES OF
L
ANCASTER
C
OUNTY
S
ERIES

A Merry Heart
Looking for a Miracle
Plain and Fancy
The Hope Chest

S
ISTERS OF
H
OLMES
C
OUNTY
S
ERIES

A Sister’s Secret

N
ONFICTION

The Simple Life
Wanda E. Brunstetter’s Amish Friends Cookbook

W
ANDA
E.
B
RUNSTETTER

B
R I D E S  O F
  W
E B S T E R
  C
O U N T Y

© 2007 by Wanda
E.
Brunstetter

ISBN 978-1-60742-020-0

All scripture is taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

All Pennsylvania Dutch words are taken from the
Revised Pennsylvania German Dictionary
found in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group

Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683.

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.

Printed in the United States of America.

D
EDICATION
/A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my in-laws in Pennsylvania
who make “going home” a joyful experience.
And to all my Amish friends
who make me feel at home whenever I come to visit.

Without faith it is impossible to please him:
for he that cometh to God must believe that he is,
and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him
.
H
EBREWS
11:6

F
aith Andrews stared out the bus window, hoping to focus on something other than her immediate need. She feasted her eyes on rocky hills, scattered trees, and a June sky so blue she felt she could swim in it. Faith had always loved this stretch of road in her home state of Missouri. She’d traveled it plenty of times over the last ten years, going from Branson to Springfield and back again, making numerous stage appearances in both towns. She had also been in Tennessee, Arkansas, and several other southern states, but her favorite place to entertain was Branson, where the shows were family-oriented, lively, and fun.

Not like some nightclubs where her husband, who had also doubled as her agent, had booked her during the early days of her career. Faith hated those gigs, with leering men who sometimes shouted obscene remarks and people who asked dumb questions about the getup Greg insisted she wear for a time.

“You need to wear your Amish garb,” he had told her. “It can be your trademark.”

Faith shook her head at the memory.
I’m glad I finally convinced him to let me go with the hillbilly look instead. Wearing Amish clothes only reminded me of the past and made me feel homesick
.

Whenever Faith was onstage, the past, present, and future disappeared like trees hidden in the forest on a foggy day. When she entertained, her focus was on only one thing: telling jokes and yodeling her heart out for an appreciative audience—something she had wanted since she was a child.

Faith closed her eyes, relishing the vision of a performance she had given six months ago at a small theater in the older part of Branson. Her jokes had brought down the house. She liked it when she could make people laugh. Too bad it was a talent that had never been valued until she’d become a professional entertainer. Her family had made it clear that they didn’t care for humor—at least not hers. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt the need to run away if they’d been more accepting of her silliness.

Faith’s thoughts took her back to the stage as she remembered receiving a standing ovation and basking in the warmth of it long after the theater was empty. How could she have known her world would be turned upside down in a single moment following the performance that night? When Faith took her final bow, she had no idea she would be burying her husband of seven years a few days later or that she would be sitting on a bus right now, heading for home.

Going back to her birthplace outside the town of Seymour, Missouri, was something Faith had been afraid to do. So near
yet so far away, she’d been these last ten years, and never once had she returned for a visit. She feared that she wouldn’t have been welcomed, for she’d been a rebellious teenager, refusing baptism and membership into the Amish church and running off to do her own thing.

During the first few years of Faith’s absence, she had sent a couple of notes to her childhood companion Barbara Raber, but that was the only contact she’d had with anyone from home. If not for the necessity of finding a stable environment for Melinda, Faith wouldn’t be going home now.

She turned away from the window, and her gaze came to rest on the sleeping child beside her. Her six-year-old daughter’s cheeks had turned rosy as her eyelids had closed in slumber soon after they’d boarded the bus in Branson.

Faith smiled at the memory of Melinda bouncing around while they waited in the bus station. “Mama,” the little girl had said, “I can’t wait to get on the bus and go see where you used to live.”

“I hope you like what you see, my precious little girl,” Faith murmured as she studied her daughter. The little girl’s head lolled against Faith’s arm, and her breathing was sweet and even. Melinda had been sullen since her father’s death. Maybe the change of scenery and a slower-paced, simpler lifestyle would be what she needed.

Faith pushed a wayward strand of golden hair away from Melinda’s face. She looked a lot like Faith had as a little girl—same blond hair and clear blue eyes, only Melinda wore her hair hanging down her back or in a ponytail. In the Amish
community, she would be expected to wear it pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, then covered with a stiff white
kapp
, the way Faith had done for so many years.

Will Mama and Papa accept my baby girl, even though they might not take kindly to me? Will Melinda adjust to her new surroundings, so plain and devoid of all the worldly things she’s been used to? When I’m gone, will she feel as though I’ve abandoned her, even though I’ll promise to come and visit as often as I can?

As Faith took hold of her daughter’s small hand, she felt a familiar burning in the back of her throat. She relished the warmth and familiarity of Melinda’s soft skin and could hardly fathom what it would be like for the two of them once they were separated. Yet she would do anything for her child, and she was convinced it would be better for Melinda to live with her grandparents than to be hauled all over the countryside with only one parent. She’d been doing that ever since Greg had died six months ago, and things hadn’t gone so well.

Besides the fact that Faith still hadn’t secured another agent to book her shows, she’d had a terrible time coming up with a babysitter for Melinda. At times, she’d had to take the child with her to rehearsals and even some shows. Melinda sat offstage and one of the other performers looked after her as Faith did her routine, but that arrangement was anything but ideal. Faith had finished up her contract at a theater in Branson last night, and this morning, she and Melinda had boarded the bus. Faith wouldn’t go back to entertaining until she felt free to do so, which meant she had to know Melinda was in good hands and had adjusted to her new surroundings.

Faith had left her name with a couple of talent agencies in Memphis and Nashville and had said she would call them soon to check on the possibility of getting an agent. She hoped Melinda would have time to adapt before Faith had to leave her.

Faith gripped the armrest as she thought about her other options. When Greg’s parents had come to Branson for his funeral, they’d offered their assistance. “Remember now, Faith,” Elsie had said, “if you need anything, just give us a call.”

Faith figured the offer was made purely out of obligation, for Jared and Elsie Andrews were too self-centered to care about anyone but themselves. She wasn’t about to ask if Melinda could live with Greg’s parents. That would be the worst thing possible, even if his folks were willing to take on the responsibility of raising their granddaughter.

Elsie and Jared lived in Los Angeles, and Jared was an alcoholic. Faith had met her husband’s parents only once before his death. That was shortly after she’d married Greg. She and Greg had stayed with the Andrewses for one week while they visited Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm, and some other sights in the area. It hadn’t taken Faith long to realize that Greg’s parents weren’t fit to raise any child. Elsie Andrews was a woman who seemed to care only about her own needs. During their visit, the woman had talked endlessly about her elite circle of friends and when she was scheduled for her next facial or hair appointment. Greg’s father always seemed to have a drink in his hand, and he’d used language so foul Faith had cringed every time he opened his mouth. Melinda would be better off in Webster County with her Plain relatives than she would with grandparents who
thought more about alcohol and mudpacks than about having a relationship with their only son and his wife.

Faith let her eyelids close once more, allowing herself to travel back to when she was a teenager. She saw herself in her father’s barn, sitting on a bale of hay, yodeling and telling jokes to her private audience of two buggy horses and a cat named Boots. . . .