Читать книгу A Perfect Amish Match - Vannetta Chapman - Страница 16

Noah made a point of avoiding Olivia Mae after lunch. His brothers had had a hearty laugh over the fact that he’d thought she was married. How was he to know? What kind of matchmaker couldn’t find herself a husband? It would be like owning a buggy shop but no buggy. Regardless, he thought it best to avoid her.

It wasn’t so terribly hard.

He played baseball. She sat with the women under the hickory tree.

He had more dessert. She seemed to be avoiding the snack table.

He saw her take two young girls into the sheep pen, then coax one of the new lambs over and show them how to pet the babes so that the mother wouldn’t be frightened. He’d almost walked over to her then, just casually, to tease her about being a shepherdess. He’d even remembered a sheep joke that he thought would make her laugh.

But she’d said something to the girls, and they’d hurried out of the pen and toward her grandfather. At least Noah supposed the old guy who was gesticulating wildly was her daddi. Olivia Mae and an older woman—her grandmother?—had helped him into the house, and then he hadn’t seen her again for a while. He’d almost put the idea behind him—of having a talk with her and setting her straight—when he literally bumped into her coming out of the barn and carrying a large ice cooler.

She juggled the ice cooler, and he plucked it from her hands.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Ya, Daddi’s tired.”

“I can carry this for you.”

She cocked her head and stared up at him.

He squirmed under her inspection. Why did she make him feel like his hat was on backward? “Since I almost ran you over, seems like the right thing to do.”

“All right. Danki.”

They talked about the weather as long as anyone possibly could and then fell into an awkward silence. Her buggy would be the last one in the line. Why had he offered to carry the cooler? It was obviously empty and weighed practically nothing. Fishing around for something to say, he remembered her standing in the sheep pen.

“Where do sheep go on vacation?”

“What?”

“Where do sheep go on vacation?”

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

“The Ba-a-aa-hamas.”

The look on her face was funnier than the joke.

“Do you do that very often?”

“Do what very often?”

“Tell jokes when you’re nervous.”

“Who said I was nervous?”

“It’s sort of obvious.”

They’d reached her buggy. She opened the driver’s-side door, fished around inside and pulled out three bungee cords. He strapped the cooler to the back of the buggy, as he tried to think how best to answer her question.

“I’m not nervous exactly. It’s only that I wanted to say something to you, and I wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject.”

“Oh. All right. I’m all ears.”

“I’m afraid we started off on the wrong foot.”

“How so?”

He knew she knew what he was talking about, but obviously, she wasn’t going to make this easier for him. He leaned against her buggy and crossed his arms. “I didn’t mean to dismiss what you do. Obviously you provide an important service to our community.”

“You mean my knitting?”

“Nein. I do not mean your knitting. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Now she smiled at him—a perky got-you smile that had him shaking his head. Was that why she wasn’t married? Because she was feisty, with an attitude and a sense of humor? Perhaps she had the idea that she didn’t fit into the submissive Amish-woman mold, though his own mother was the same in many ways. Regardless, the fact that Olivia Mae was not married was not his business.

“I’m talking about your matchmaking.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“You’ve decided it’s an important service?”

“It could be. I see that now.”

“Englischers have dating sites and apps on their phones,” she pointed out.

“I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

“I’ve never even owned a phone.”

“Neither have I.” She was grinning at him now.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think that she enjoyed baiting him. He forced his eyes away from her adorable face and tried to remember what he’d wanted to tell her.

“Your bruder seems happy enough.”

“He does. He is, and that’s what I mean. You obviously do what you do very well.”

“Danki.”

“I just wanted to remind you that I’m not on the market.”

“Oh, you made that quite clear.”

Was she being serious? Or playing with him again? Looking back toward the barn, he saw that more people were leaving. He couldn’t keep her here forever. He needed to try a more direct approach.

“I saw you talking to the two girls—the tall one and the heavy one.”

“Do you mean Jane and Francine?”

“I guess.”

“They’re freinden of mine. We often talk to each other.”

“I’m sure, but as soon as you sat down, and you three put your heads together, the heavier one looked over her shoulder at me.”

“Did she, now?”

“You’re going to deny it?”

“Deny what?”

“That you were talking to them about setting up a date with me.”

“I could set you up with one of them.” She tapped her chin and scrunched up her eyes as if she’d never considered such a thing. “But I thought you weren’t interested.”

Noah laughed out loud. “You are twisting what I’m saying every which way. I’m not interested. I told you I wasn’t on Wednesday, and I’m still not. I wanted to make sure we’re clear about that.”

“Crystal.”

“Gut.”

“Gut.”

Another awkward silence followed. She’d caved easier than he’d thought she would. He’d expected her to list the reasons that either girl would be a good match for him. Didn’t she think he was dating material? Did she think he was too old or too set in his ways?

He didn’t want to talk about that, but he wasn’t ready to walk away, either.

“What do you call a sheep that knows karate?”

Olivia Mae rolled her eyes, but a grin was spreading across her face.

“I don’t know, Noah. What do you call a sheep that knows karate?”

“A lamb chop.”

He walked away then, the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears.

* * *

Unfortunately his good mood didn’t last. His father insisted Noah ride up front in the buggy with him on the way home. His mother sat in the back, surrounded by grandchildren. For the first ten minutes, Noah actually enjoyed the ride. Then his dat cleared his throat and glanced his direction.

“You know we’re glad you’re home, son.”

“But...”

“No but. Your mother and I want you to know that we are grateful to the Lord for bringing you back.”

Perhaps he’d misjudged his dat’s intent. Maybe he’d anticipated a lecture when there wasn’t one headed his way. Noah rested his head against the door and looked out over the Indiana farmland. “I’m glad to be back. Goshen seems...better in some ways. Instead of it feeling like a shoe that’s too small, it feels like one that fits just right.”

“That’s gut, but...”

Noah tried to suppress a sigh, without success.

“Just hear me out.”

“Of course, Dat.” It wasn’t as if he had a choice. They were still ten minutes from home. It would be childish to ask to be let out and walk, though the thought did cross his mind. Instead he sat up straighter and clasped his hands in front of him.

“I know you enjoy your auction work...”

“It’s why I’m here.”

“However, I’d like you to leave some time free to learn more about the farm.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you never learned it as a youngie.”

“I grew up doing farm chores.”

“That’s true, but a young man’s real training begins about the time that you left—was it when you went to New York or Pennsylvania?” He waved away the question before Noah could answer it. “I want to teach you about farming because every young man needs to know how to plant, grow and harvest a crop.”

“Dat, I’m not a farmer. I never have been a farmer, and I have no intention of becoming one in the future. I’m an auctioneer.”

That statement sat between them as the mare clip-clopped down the road.

Noah could just make out his mamm saying something to his nieces, but he couldn’t discern her exact words. At least she was preoccupied so that it wasn’t two against one, not at this point.

“I appreciate your offer. I do. But times have changed—”

“Every man has to eat and farming is what we do. It’s the Amish way.”

“Not every Amish man farms. Some are farriers. Others are cabinetmakers.”

“And you’re an auctioneer.”

“A gut one, too, if I say so myself.”

“It’s only that—to me—auctioneering seems like a hobby, not a way to support yourself.”

Noah slouched down in his seat. He honestly didn’t know how to make his dat understand. He didn’t know how to explain that there were more opportunities available to Amish folk now. Working in the auction house could provide a good, steady income. It was only that it was different from work that his father’s generation had done.

“There’s one other thing.”

“Of course there is.”

“We understand it may seem awkward to date because you’re late getting started.”

“I dated...”

“And sometimes these things need a little help.”

“I thought you were happy to have me at home. Now you’re trying to scoot me out of the nest?”

“You’re twenty-nine, son.”

“I’m aware.”

Noah glanced at his dat, noticed a furrow of lines between his eyes. He was obviously bound and determined to have his say.

“It’s easy at your age to believe that you have an endless number of days in front of you—to plan, to decide, to marry. But that’s not true. Every man and woman has a limited amount of time on this earth, and it’s our responsibility to put those days to the best use.”

“What does this have to do with dating?”

“I’d hate to see you waste the best years of your life.”

“Waste them?”

“A family is a wunderbaar blessing.”

“For most, yes, it is.”

“Your bruder Justin needed a little help, and your mamm and I just want you to know that we see no shame in that.”

“Now you’re talking about Olivia Mae.”

“She’s a gut woman, and she has a real knack for putting the right people together. I was skeptical at first, too, but seeing the couples she’s matched... Well, it’s a real gift that she has.”

Fortunately their farm had come into view.

Noah’s shoulder muscles felt like two giant knots, and a headache was pounding at his temples. How could a twenty-minute ride with his parents make him so tense?

At least he was able to keep his mouth shut for the remainder of the ride. No use telling his father that he had no intention of being matched. No use pointing out the obvious—that his dating life wasn’t anyone’s business.

At least his mother hadn’t chimed in with her two cents. The last thing he needed was more pressure.

They pulled to a stop in front of the house, the lecture delivered. The evening’s chores still waited to be done—even on a Sunday. Horses still had to be fed, cows milked, goats checked. He actually looked forward to the escape of farm work, though it was not what he planned on doing for the rest of his life.

As he was helping the children out of the back seat, his mother stopped beside him, reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Give it some thought, dear.”

He stared after her as she climbed the front porch steps, a grandchild holding on to each hand.

Life was so simple for their generation, with everything laid out in black and white. But Noah had traveled enough to learn two very important things.

He was not, nor would he ever be, a farmer.

And given his dating history, which they knew nothing about, he also wasn’t the marrying type.

The only problem would be convincing his family of that.

* * *

It took longer than Olivia Mae thought it would. Exactly ten days later, a familiar buggy pulled down their lane. She was out with the sheep, so instead of hurrying toward the house, she waved her arms over her head, hoping that Noah Graber had come to see her and not her grandparents. He turned the pretty sorrel buggy mare toward her, and pulled up next to the pasture fence. He hopped out and joined her, though she was standing on one side of the fence and he was on the other.

“Where are the rest?”

“Rest of what?”

“Rest of your sheep.”

“Oh. This is all we have.”

Noah pulled off his hat, held it up to block off the late-afternoon sun and made an exaggerated motion of counting her ewes. “Six?”

“Ya.”

“You have six sheep.”

“I do, as you’ve so accurately counted.”

“Why couldn’t the little lamb play outside?”

Olivia waited, both dreading and looking forward to the punch line.

“It was being ba-a-aaad!” As she shook her head in mock disgust, he plopped the hat back on his head and crossed his arms across the top board of the wooden fence. “I honestly don’t know a thing about sheep.”

“Though you do know a lot of jokes.”

“Tell me about your flock.”

She didn’t think he was asking for their names, though she had named them all. Instead she simply offered, “They’re Lincoln sheep.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“They’re large, as you can see. Ewes can weigh from two hundred to two hundred and fifty pounds.”

“I thought they were just fat.”

She slapped his arm. “Rams can get up to three hundred and fifty. They’re a gut sheep to have if you’re raising them for their fleece. Lincoln sheep are very long-wooled.”

“I can see that.”

Olivia Mae laughed. “Wait until you see them just before shearing. This is nothing.”

“So you sell their fleece?”

“Ya, it’s quite popular for spinning and weaving.”

“Why do you only have six?”

Olivia Mae shrugged. Though she didn’t want to go into it, she understood that making small talk made Noah comfortable, so she played along. “We lost two to predators...”

“Predators?”

“Probably a coyote. That was in January, and then we had another two that wandered off into the road during a late snowstorm in March. I check the fencing regularly, but they’d somehow found a way through. It was a hard winter.”

“I’ll say. So you had ten, which doesn’t sound like very many, and now you’re down to six.”

“My initial plan was to slowly build the herd, but...sometimes life doesn’t work out like you plan.”

“Said with the wisdom of a matchmaker.”

She waited.

“Speaking of that...”

“Of what?”

He tossed a look her way and smiled. Good teeth. Wait. Did she just assess his teeth? That was terrible. But good oral hygiene was a plus in the dating world.

“Speaking of matchmaking, I have a problem that I was hoping you could help me with.”

“Is that so?”

“My family is driving me crazy.”

“Huh.”

“My dat wants me to learn to farm.”

“I thought you were an auctioneer.”

“My bruders are all up in my business.”

“Aggravating.”

“But it’s my mamm that is pushing me over the edge.”

Olivia Mae knew that his mother was a sweet, if concerned, woman. After all, they’d had a good long talk on Monday, when Olivia Mae had taken over a blanket for Sarah’s child. The baby wasn’t due for another four months, so it had been perhaps obvious that she was making up a reason to visit, but Sarah had been thrilled with the knitted receiving blanket—yellow and green, made from Olivia Mae’s own wool, and with a small sheep motif running across the edge.

Of course, she’d picked a morning when she was sure Noah would be at the auction house, and was it her fault that his mother, Erika, had brought up finding a match for Noah? Olivia Mae thought it was a completely natural concern. She might have suggested that Erika make a deal with Noah.

“You’re awfully quiet over there,” Noah said.

“Am I?”

“Where do sheep take a bath?”

“Let me guess...”

“In a ba-a-athtub,” they said together.

She really did need to get him to focus or they’d be here all day. And while his jokes were cute, she had to see to Daddi and Mammi soon. “You were telling me about your mamm.”

“She offered me a deal.”

“Did she, now?”

“Her deal, or suggestion, is that I give you three chances.”

“Excuse me?”

“Three chances to...you know.” He twirled his finger in a circle. “Do what you do.”

When she only raised her eyebrows, he laughed. “It’s like you need to hear me say it.”

“I do need to hear you say it. I can’t read your mind.”

“Mamm suggested that if I give you three chances to find me a suitable girl, which I guess you’d be happy to do—”

“Of course I would.”

“And if by some chance those three girls don’t work out—”

“No reason why one of them wouldn’t.”

“Then she and Dat will leave me alone.”

“Leave you alone to—”

“Live my life in peace.” This last sentence he practically growled.

Olivia Mae scratched the ewe closest to her between the ears, made her way out of the gate, being careful to latch it securely behind her, and finally turned her attention to Noah.

“I’m not sure that will work.”

“What?”

“It sounds as if you’re being coerced.”

“Coerced? Who uses words like that? Did you read them in a book?”

“What book?”

“I don’t know what book. I suppose you read Englisch romances. That’s why you’re so keen on this whole true-love business.”

“I will admit to having a few sheep magazines as well as some books of knitting patterns. I don’t have a lot of time for reading, though I do enjoy it when I have the rare hour to myself. I might have read a novel or two last winter when the weather was too bad to accomplish any work outside.”

“Look, I’m not being coerced. I’m being worn down.”

“Is there a difference?”

“I don’t know.”

The look on his face was so miserable that Olivia Mae couldn’t help but feel a little pity for him.

“Nice sorrel,” she said, walking up to the reddish-brown mare and allowing it to smell her. She then reached into her pocket for a carrot. “What’s her name?”

“Snickers—like the candy bar.”

She scratched the mare between her ears, causing it to nicker softly.

“Do you do that a lot?”

“What?”

“Take care of things—sheep, horses, people.”

He’d stepped closer and she could smell the soap he’d used, and other things probably from the auction house—old wood and leather and some kind of oil. What was that like? To spend your day selling off people’s memories? Maybe she was thinking of it wrongly. Maybe what he did was the ultimate recycling—making old things new again. She looked up at him and smiled, then took a step back.

“What did you mean when you said you’re not sure it will work? Would I be such a challenge for you to match up?”

“Most people come to me wanting to find a suitable husband or wife.”

“Ya.”

“You’re practically saying you hope it won’t work.”

The smile on his face grew. She hadn’t known Noah Graber long, but already she knew him well enough to worry when he smiled that way. A girl could fall for that kind of charm, and she made it a point not to harbor romantic feelings about someone she was trying to match.

“You don’t think you can do it.”

“What?” Her voice came out like a screech owl. She smoothed down her apron and lowered her voice. “Why would you say that?”

“I’m too big a challenge for you.”

“Oh, please. I’ve matched worse—” She almost said misfits. “I’ve matched more stubborn bachelors than you.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“But younger, I’ll bet.”

“Matched a thirty-two-year-old last fall.”

“Widower?”

“I don’t see what difference that makes.” She did. Of course she did. The widower had wanted a wife. He was desperately lonely, struggling to raise five children on his own and willing to do whatever she suggested. No need to share all of those details with Noah Graber, though.

“Clearly this is what your mamm wants—”

“And my dat, my bruders, my sisters-in-law—even the bishop.”

“Lucas has spoken to you?”

Instead of answering that, he said, “Dating may not be my primary concern, but I’ll play along.”

“How do I know that you won’t sabotage my efforts?”

“Because I’m giving you my word that I won’t.”

The growl was back. Noah Graber was the full package—tall, handsome, hardworking and with just enough humility to care that he not be called a liar.

She wiped her hands on her apron and then stuck them in her pockets.

“Fine.”

“You’ll do it?”

“I will.”

She began walking toward the house. Noah tagged along beside her, as she’d known he would. Just like teasing a fish with bait, she thought. Good thing Daddi had taught her how to fish.

“What happens next?”

She stopped suddenly. “I’ll call you.”

“You’ll call me?”

“Phone shack to phone shack, of course.”

“I thought you’d just...give me a name or something.”

“I need to think on it, prayerfully consider the situation. You wouldn’t want me to rush.”

“Kind of, I do.” He rolled his eyes when she stared up at him. “As soon as this is over—”

“You’ll be able to live your life in peace. I heard you the first time.”

“I give you my word that I’m not going to sabotage anything, but you’ll see.” The grin was back. “I’m not the marrying type.”

“You’re not?”

“And as soon as this is over, I can get on with my life, establish my reputation as an auctioneer and hopefully make enough to buy a bachelor place.”

She could have argued any one of those points. Instead she smiled again—what she hoped was a sincere smile and not one that conveyed how much she’d like to pick up the bucket of water sitting on the front porch and dump it over his head. Anything to erase that condescending grin on his face.

“Great. I’ll call when I have some ideas.”

And without a backward glance, she hurried up the porch steps and into the house.