by Sarah Price
The Matchmaker is both charming and beautiful. Sarah Price writes with an authenticity that pulls at the heartstrings and triumphs over self in a way that gives you renewed faith in love and friendship, showing us all the hand God has in our lives.
—SUE LAITINEN
DESTINATION AMISH
In her own distinctive voice Sarah Price has created a wealth of memorable, delightful characters in The Matchmaker! Readers will love this unique blend of the Amish and Jane Austen’s classic tale Emma—the story of a meddling, opinionated young lady who must learn the hard way that best-laid plans may sometimes go awry! With unpredictable twists and turns that Sarah Price is so well known for and a charming main character that is not your typical Amish heroine, this harmonious mix is truly a “match made” in heaven!
—DIANA FLOWER
SENIOR REVIEWER AT OWG BLOG
Once again Sarah Price has woven a tapestry of beautiful imagery, timeless wisdom, and sigh-worthy romance into her most recent work, The Matchmaker. Endearingly sweet and positively delightful!
—NICOLE DEESE
AUTHOR OF THE LETTING GO SERIES
AND A CLICHÉ CHRISTMAS
Sarah Price’s retells Emma in her delightful novel, The Matchmaker. This sweet rendition is both authentically Amish and true to Jane Austen’s story, while full of whimsy, romance, and heartfelt redemption. Thank you, Sarah, for a truly enjoyable read!
—LESLIE GOULD
CHRISTY AWARD–WINNING
AND BEST-SELLING AUTHOR
Just like First Impressions, The Matchmaker combines two of my favorite things: a Jane Austen’s book with Sarah Price’s unique and engaging storytelling. Sarah Price does a brilliant job of intertwining Amish life into a much-loved classic while staying true to the themes in Jane Austen’s Emma. Her characters are three dimensional, relatable and, more importantly, entertaining. Sarah’s Emma is just as lovable and full of error as Jane Austen’s heroine, while Gideon is as dashing and honorable as the incomparable Mr. Knightley. The story is so captivating that it pulls you in and leaves you wanting more from this very talented author. If you love Jane Austen as much as I do and are looking for a book that brings a fresh perspective to a retelling of a universal story, you do not want to miss reading The Matchmaker. I, for one, am looking forward to reading more from Sarah Price.
—ERIN BRADY
AUTHOR OF THE SHOPPING SWAP
AND THE HOLIDAY GIG
Highly recommended to anyone who reads Amish romance!
—BETH SHRIVER
AUTHOR OF THE TOUCH OF GRACE SERIES
AND LOVE’S ABUNDANT HARVEST
Most CHARISMA HOUSE BOOK GROUP products are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchase for sales promotions, premiums, fund-raising, and educational needs. For details, write Charisma House Book Group, 600 Rinehart Road, Lake Mary, Florida 32746, or telephone (407) 333-0600.
THE MATCHMAKER by Sarah Price
Published by Realms
Charisma Media/Charisma House Book Group
600 Rinehart Road
Lake Mary, Florida 32746
www.charismahouse.com
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
All Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, International Bible Society. Used by permission.
Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Price
All rights reserved
Cover design by Bill Johnson
Design Director: Justin Evans
Visit the author’s website at sarahpriceauthor.com.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Price, Sarah, 1969-
The matchmaker / Sarah Price. -- First edition.
pages ; cm. -- (The Amish classics ; Book 2)
ISBN 978-1-62998-004-1 (softcover) -- ISBN 978-1-62998-009-6 (e-book)
1. Amish--Fiction. 2. Lancaster County (Pa.)--Fiction. 3. Austen, Jane, 1775-1817--Parodies, imitations, etc. . I. Austen, Jane, 1775-1817. Emma. II. Title.
PS3616.R5275M38 2015
813'.6--dc23
2014034345
International Standard Book Number: 978-1-62998-004-1
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62998-005-8
To my dear friend Erin Brady, for encouraging me to take my writing to a new and very exciting level of literary exploration.
CONTENTS
A Note About Vocabulary
Preface
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Glossary
About Sarah Price
A Note About Vocabulary
THE AMISH SPEAK Pennsylvania Dutch (also called Amish German or Amish Dutch). This is a verbal language with variations in spelling among the many different Amish and Mennonite communities throughout the United States.
In some regions a “grandfather” is grossdaadi, while in other regions he is known as grossdawdi. The word for mother is maam in some communities, mammi in another, and still maem in yet one more variation.
In addition there are words such as “mayhaps” or “reckon,” the use of the word “then” and “now” at the end of sentences, and, my favorite, “for sure and certain,” which are not necessarily from the Pennsylvania Dutch language/dialect but are unique to the Amish and used frequently. Other phrases such as “oh help,” “fiddle faddle,” and “oh bother!” are ones that I have heard repeatedly throughout the years.
The use of these words and phrases comes from my personal experience living among the Amish in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. For readers who are not familiar with such terms, I have italicized the words and included a glossary at the end of the novel.
Preface
THE IDEA FOR this book was a long time in coming. I started to read quite early in life, and my taste for books transcended the typical chunky books that preschoolers are made to read. I confess that my first love was Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books, which I devoured practically on a daily basis. To say I was a bookworm would be putting it mildly. Children would take bets whether or not I could finish a book a day—a challenge I won easily on most days.
So my transition to classic literature came at an early age, with my favorites being Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Emily Brontë, Charles Dickens, Thomas Hardy, and (a personal favorite) Victor Hugo. Christmas was fairly predictable in my house. Just one leather-bound book always made it the “bestest Christmas ever.”
In writing Amish Christian romances, something I have been doing for twenty-five years, I have always tried to explore new angles to the stories. I base most of my stories on my own experiences, having lived on Amish farms and in Amish homes over the years. I have come to know these amazingly strong and devout people in a way that
I am constantly pinching myself as to why I have been able to do so. I must confess that on more than one occasion I have heard the same from them: “We aren’t quite sure what it is, Sarah, but . . . there’s something deeply special about you.”
Besides adoring my Amish friends and “family,” I also adore my readers. Many of you know that I spend countless hours using social media to individually connect with as many readers as I can. I found some of my “bestest friends” online, and despite living in Virginia or Hawaii or Nebraska or Australia, they are as dear to me as the ones who live two miles down the road.
Well, something clicked when I combined my love of literature with my adoration of my readers and respect of the Amish. It is my hope that by creating this literary triad, my readers will experience the Amish in a new way. They will experience authentic Amish culture and religion based on my experiences of having lived among them and my exposure to the masterpieces of literary greats from years past.
I thank the good people at Charisma Media for sharing in my enthusiasm, especially Adrienne, who reached out to me and listened with an open mind.
It’s amazing to think that a love of God and passion for reading can be combined in such a manner as to touch so many people. I hope that you too are touched, and I truly welcome your e-mails, letters, and postings.
BLESSINGS,
SARAH PRICE
[email protected]
http://www.facebook.com/fansofsarahprice
Twitter: @SarahPriceAuthr
Chapter One
LEANING OVER THE back of the kitchen chair, a very busy Emma Weaver struck an unknowingly pretty picture as she bent forward to rearrange the yellow and purple flowers in the glass jar. The late summer blooms had been plucked from her flower garden only an hour before, and their sweet scent wafted through the room as she moved them around for the third or fourth time in less than ten minutes. Satisfied at last, she stood upright, nodded her self-approval toward the bouquet, then quickly assessed the rest of the room with her cornflower-blue eyes.
The table was set with plain white linen and her maem’s best china, a gift from her daed when they had just been married. It was something that Emma loved to use when guests came for supper, especially on Sunday evenings. The sitting area was freshly cleaned just the day prior, for it was forbidden to clean on Sunday, regardless of whether or not it was a church Sunday or a visiting Sunday. The blue sofa and two rocking chairs with blue and white quilted cushions looked welcoming for their soon-to-arrive guests.
“Ah, Emma!” a deep voice called out from the staircase.
She looked up in time to see her daed shuffling down the stairs, taking each step one at a time as his weathered hand held the railing. With his long, white beard and thinning hair, he looked older than his sixty-five years, a fact that worried Emma on a regular basis. “I thought you were resting, Daed,” she said as she hurried to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. Taking his arm, she led him to his favorite chair: a blue recliner that was covered with a pretty crocheted blanket she had made for him last winter.
“Such a quiet house nowadays,” he mumbled as he sat down and raised the foot of the chair so that he could rest his legs. “How sad for you that Anna went off to get married!” He clucked his tongue a few times and shut his eyes as he rested his head on the back of the chair. “Poor Anna, indeed! Why ever would she want to do such a thing anyway?”
Emma laughed, the sound light and airy. “Nee, Daed,” she quickly retorted. “We must be happy for Anna! Old Widower Wagler seemed right pleased last Tuesday, and I dare say that Anna was radiant in her blue wedding dress!”
“Radiant indeed!” her daed scoffed. “Left us alone is what she did. Who shall entertain you now, my dear Emma?”
“Now, Daed!” she reprimanded him gently. “I don’t need anyone to entertain me and you know that. We have quite enough to keep us busy, and I’m happy for cousin Anna to finally have a home of her own.”
Without giving him a chance to retort, Emma turned and hurried back into the main part of the kitchen. Everything was set up for their soon-to-be arriving guests. The bread she had baked just the day before was sliced and on a plate, covered with plastic wrap so the flies wouldn’t land upon it. The bowls of chow-chow, beets, and pickled cabbage were likewise covered and set upon the counter. Only the cold cuts and fruit spreads remained in the refrigerator.
For a few long, drawn-out moments Emma fussed at the table, wanting everything to be absolutely perfect for their dear soon-to-arrive guests.
“Careful there, Emma,” her daed said, lifting his hand to point in her direction. “That’s a sharp knife there on the edge of the table!”
Laughing, Emma put her hands on her hips and frowned at him, a playful twinkle in her eyes. “Ach, Daed! I’m not a child anymore! I see the knife!” As if to make a point, she picked it up and wiggled it in the air. “No danger here.”
“Emma Weaver!” a disapproving voice came out from behind her.
Startled, she dropped the knife and jumped backward as it clanked on the linoleum floor. “Gideon King! You scared me!” she cried at the sight of the man standing in the door-frame. Annoyed, she quickly bent down to pick up the knife. Wiping it on her apron, she set it back on the table before hurrying over to greet their first guest.
“And you were teasing your daed!” he said, a stern look upon his face. “Good thing I walked in when I did! You could have cut yourself!”
“I almost did cut myself!” she retorted, making a playful face at him. “No thanks to you for scaring me so!” Despite her words it was clear that the presence of the newcomer pleased her. She reached up her hand to make certain that her chestnut brown hair was properly pinned back and hidden beneath her freshly starched prayer kapp, the ribbons tied neatly as they hung from the sides. Even if it was only Gideon, she wanted to make certain she looked proper and plain, like a good Amish woman.
“That’s no way to greet our guest, Emma,” her daed chided. “Come, Gideon! Greet this old man!”
The tall Amish man with thick, black hair and broad shoulders crossed the room in three easy strides. He shook the older man’s outstretched hand. Emma watched with a smile on her lips, knowing that it had been a long week for her daed without Gideon stopping in to visit him. With no sons of his own, her daed had come to look upon Gideon as a son of sorts. Since Gideon’s younger bruder had married Irene, her older and only sister, Gideon was as good as family. And by the way he constantly reprimanded Emma, his voice more oft full of criticism than pleasure, she often felt as if she had, indeed, acquired an older bruder.
“It’s gut to see you, Henry,” Gideon said. “Looking well, as always.”
Henry gestured toward the sofa, indicating that Gideon should sit down. “Have you just returned, then?” He didn’t wait for the man to answer before he continued. “Tell us about your trip.”
Without waiting for an invitation, Emma joined the two men, plopping herself on the sofa next to the new visitor. “Ja, Gideon. Do tell us about Ohio. We missed you at Anna’s wedding last week!”
Stretching out his legs, Gideon smiled at the young woman next to him. “I wouldn’t have missed it if I hadn’t needed to attend to some business in the Dutch Valley,” he said. “I rode out with a couple who were going to visit their dochder who recently married a widowed bishop out there. They were traveling with a young woman from around here.”
“From around here?” Emma’s mouth fell open. “Do I know her, then?”
“Lizzie Blank,” was the simple response.
“Why! I wonder that she must be related to Widow Blank and Hetty!” She looked from Gideon to her daed. “Have we met this woman, Daed?”
Henry seemed to ponder the name for a moment, his brows knitted together and his eyes squinting as he did so. “I’m not so sure of our being acquainted with a Lizzie Blank,” came the answer.
Emma, observing Gideon brushing some dirt from his pants, smiled to herself at how fastidious he alwa
ys was about his appearance, especially on Sundays. He glanced up at her, catching her watching him, and sighed, the hint of a smile on his face. “You can’t know everyone, Emma. I know how hard you try, but it would be quite impossible, it seems.”
“Gideon! You tease me so!”
He laughed. “I am all but a bruder to you, Emma. Isn’t that what bruders are supposed to do?” He changed the subject back to his trip. “It was a pleasant journey and she is a lovely young woman. A shame you didn’t know her, Emma. Her wit would have amused you immensely!” With a pause he turned his gaze to her daed. “Ohio was sure nice, especially at this time of the year. The rolling hills and winding roads make for a lovely backdrop for the long drive there.”
“Such a romantic!” Emma teased, which prompted Gideon to frown at her. Still, the fierce look on his face could not hide his pleasure at being reunited with his good friends after being away for so long.
“Speaking of romantics,” he replied, a mischievous gleam in his dark brown eyes, “who shed the most tears at Anna’s wedding, I wonder?”
Henry laughed and pointed at Emma. “You know her so well, Gideon. Surely you are aware that Emma wept through the entire service and the singing afterward.”
“Oh, Daed!”
But it was true, indeed. She had wept, mostly out of elation for dear sweet Anna, who, after so many years living with them, had finally found happiness and married good ole Widower Wagler.
