The Matchmaker: An Amish Tale of Jane Austen's Emma (The Amish Classics Book 2)

by Sarah Price

  Irene responded with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “Mayhaps. Or mayhaps I need Lizzie and little Emma to be older to help more. They’re too young still to do much more than get underfoot.” Using mismatched potholders, Irene began to remove the still-hot bread from their pans. She lined them up on the rack and set the pans in the sink to be washed later. Satisfied, she admired the six loaves. “Just about perfect,” she whispered. “John will be most pleased.”

  “Where are the men anyway?”

  Irene and her husband, John, had arrived earlier in the day, eager to visit with Emma and Daed before heading back to their own farm. Yet, upon arriving at the Weavers’ house, John had disappeared with his father-in-law outside and they had yet to return. Neither woman minded, for it had provided them time to catch up and visit before the other guests arrived.

  It was close to eleven o’clock when a buggy pulled into the driveway. Glancing out the window, Irene peered around the property before spotting the men standing on the far side of the small horse barn. “Gideon’s arrived.”

  Emma remained unusually silent.

  “I think he’s brought your friend with him,” Irene said, turning back to look at Emma.

  This brightened Emma’s mood. She had asked Hannah to join the Weaver gathering, despite Henry’s private grumbling about not wanting to share his precious, limited time with Irene with anyone outside of the family.

  When Hannah entered the kitchen, Emma was quick to properly introduce her friend to her sister before inquiring about the circumstances of her arrival in Gideon’s buggy.

  “Oh, that?” Hannah laughed. “He came upon me walking the road and stopped to offer a ride. I must admit that it was appreciated.” She fanned at her neck. “It’s warm walking in the sun!”

  Chewing on her lower lip, Emma glanced over her friend’s shoulder. “Where is Gideon, anyway?”

  “Gideon?” Hannah set down her purse on the floor next to the counter. “I think he went with your daed and another man behind the barn.”

  Emma groaned. “Oh, help, I know what that’s about, for sure and certain!” She didn’t wait for either Hannah or her sister to ask before she answered the unspoken question. “Gardening for next year. I just know it. Daed’s so worried about us not having fresh vegetables now that Anna isn’t here. She did the gardening, remember?” With a frustrated sigh, Emma sank down onto the sofa, the baby still cradled in her arms. “I reckon he’ll be expecting me to manage the garden, then!”

  Gardening was the last thing on Emma’s list of favorite things to do. Between the dry, dusty feeling of dirt on her hands and the warm sun heating up her back, there was very little about gardening that she found appealing. She much preferred working indoors, keeping an orderly house and working on her quilts.

  “It wouldn’t hurt you to garden a bit,” Irene offered gently. “I feel so close to God when I’m working outdoors. How will you ever feed your own family, Emma?”

  “Family?” Her eyes grew large and she stared at Irene, an expression of disbelief on her face. “Daed is my family and we are getting on just fine, danke!”

  “One of these days—”

  Emma interrupted her sister, refusing to let Irene finish the sentence. Undoubtedly it would lead to the same topic: marriage and motherhood. “Nee, Irene. You know that I’m quite content with my independence.” She ignored a look from Hannah, who was clearly amused. Irene, however, frowned. She was always dismayed at Emma’s avoidance of courting, never mind her determination to remain single forever!

  To avoid the topic, Emma glanced down at the sleeping infant in her arms. “I’ll leave mothering and nurturing to those who do it so much better than I ever could. Like you!” She said the last part with kindness, knowing full well that her sister had always wanted a large family, even if she was currently experiencing days of weariness and feelings of being overworked.

  The table was set for the noon meal when the men returned to the kitchen. Emma noticed that Gideon made a great effort to avoid making eye contact with her. For a moment she watched him with curiosity, realizing that he was still upset with her about what she had come to call “the Ralph Martin and Hannah situation.” With a slight roll of her eyes, she shifted the baby in her arms and pretended to not be offended by his silence. Instead, she watched as he played with the two older boys while Irene put the food on the table.

  His patience with his nephews impressed her, especially given that he was an old buwe with little or no experience with kinner. His face lit up when the young boys clambered around him, asking him to toss them into the air. This he did with great delight, despite Henry’s dismay that one of his grandsons might get injured.

  When the two boys finally settled down at the urging of their maem, they begged Gideon to share stories about their daed when he was their age. Gideon was only too willing to oblige, much to his bruder, John’s, dismay.

  “Not the story about the loose cow, please,” John mumbled to Gideon, which only caused young Henry and John Junior to beg to hear the story about how their daed had let a cow escape the dairy rather than milk it at chore time.

  Listening to Gideon tell the story, Emma found herself smiling. What a right gut daed he would have made, she thought.

  With lunch on the table, Irene called everyone to be seated. Henry assumed his position at the head of the table, and after he cleared his throat ever so slightly, everyone bowed their heads to say the silent blessing over the prepared food. When Henry shifted his weight, the subtle sign that prayer was over, a new round of activity resumed. Plates of bread and bowls of steaming vegetables were passed around the table, the adults helping to serve the younger children so that food was not spilled upon the fresh tablecloth.

  Henry opened up the conversation. “Gideon offered to plow the old garden patch, Emma,” he said as he reached for the boiled potatoes. “Fresh vegetables next year will keep us all healthy. I’m not too keen on those store-bought foods, you know. Those Englische use chemicals that are certainly killing us!”

  Exasperated, Emma rolled her eyes.

  Not one to be discouraged, he pointed his fork at Emma. “It’s true! And all those sweets with refined sugar!” Clicking his tongue in disgust, he shook his head and turned his attention to Irene. “You best be using only that organic sugar.”

  “I am, Daed.”

  Emma caught Irene’s eye when her daed wasn’t looking and mouthed the words I told you so. Both women suppressed their amusement and bent their heads down, choking back laughter by avoiding each other’s gaze. Even Hannah joined in, familiar by now with Henry’s concern for proper eating habits and good nutrition.

  Indeed, Henry’s concern was not a new one. His reputation among the g’may included more than just his being a godly man with a fierce sense of piety. He was also known to fret about just about anything and everything under the sun. As he continued to lecture Irene about what was permissible to feed his grandchildren, Emma caught a smile sneaking on Gideon’s face. When he glanced up and saw that he had been discovered, the smile turned into a grin and she too found herself smiling back.

  After tending to the needs of her kinner, Irene took a deep, satisfied breath and began to focus on enjoying her own food. “What news, Daed, of Francis Wagler? Has he come back to meet his new maem?”

  “Nee,” Henry replied, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Curious that. I have heard nary a peep about him. Emma, what says Anna?”

  The eyes of the adults shifted to Emma, and for just a moment, she wanted to squirm. Instead, she merely shrugged her shoulders. “She shared a lovely letter that Francis had written to congratulate his daed and Anna. He apologized for not attending their wedding, but apparently his aendi in Ohio is ill.”

  With a disgusted wave of his hand, Henry dismissed Emma’s comment. “That woman never was well thought of! Never letting that boy come back to Lancaster and making Samuel travel to Ohio to see him.”

  “Daed,” Irene said softly. “He is
a young man now who can make up his own mind.”

  Despite the validity of Irene’s comment, Henry shook his head in disgust. “Bah!”

  Gideon spoke up next. “I never quite understood that arrangement, I confess,” he stated, properly setting his fork down on the side of his plate.

  Henry shook his head. “None of us did, Samuel most of all, I imagine.”

  For a moment a silence befell the table. To speak further of the situation would be inappropriate in front of the young kinner. However, Emma knew that everyone was thinking back to the year when Francis’s maem had passed away and her older schwester had convinced Samuel to allow her to raise the young boy. What was to start out as just a few months had turned into several years. With Samuel left in Lititz to tend to his aging parents and work toward paying the enormous medical bills incurred from their illnesses, he had little option except to permit his only son to be raised in Ohio by his deceased fraa’s family. A most unusual situation, indeed.

  Ever the peacemaker, Emma sighed and tried to shift the conversation back to a more positive tone. “Vell, the letter that Francis sent to Anna was rather positive, and he did apologize for not having been out here to visit yet, and promised a future trip to Lancaster. Surely he means well. I’ve never heard anything but kind words about Francis from Samuel and Samuel’s family.”

  “Kind words gathered from the once-a-year visit Samuel must take to Ohio to see his own son?” Henry’s disapproval was more than apparent. The silence from the other adults seated at the table spoke volumes. Emma seemed to be the only one ready to forgive Francis for his apparent neglect of his own father.

  When the meal was finally over and the after-meal prayer was said, the men retired to the front porch, freeing up the space while the women gathered the dishes and cleaned. Hannah held the baby, giving both Emma and Irene a break while they worked side by side, just like old times, at the kitchen sink. The younger children sat on the floor, fitting together pieces of an alphabet puzzle in a long line across the kitchen floor.

  Emma was just drying the last dish when she noticed someone walking across the front lawn toward the house. She squinted to get a better look. With a slight gasp she turned to Hannah. “Paul’s here!”

  “Paul?”

  Emma shushed her sister with a quick glance and lowered her voice to respond so that their words would not carry through the open window. “Paul Esh.”

  “The bishop’s son?”

  Hannah shifted the baby in her arms and managed to reach a hand up to quickly smooth back her hair so that it lay properly under her prayer kapp. Raising an eyebrow, Irene quickly understood what was happening. She suppressed a smile and turned back to her task at hand of wiping down the counters.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Paul said as he walked into the kitchen. “I understand there is a finished quilt to be picked up . . . a quilt in need of binding, ja?”

  Hannah smiled but said nothing, too shy to speak up.

  “How good of you to remember, Paul!” Emma glanced at Hannah and made a quick face at her, encouraging her friend to say something.

  “Remember? How could I forget!” He noticed Irene and hurried over to shake her hand in proper greeting. “How right gut to see you, Irene! Will you be staying for the weekend then? I’m sure that the church members would love to see you after communion.”

  Irene shook her head. “Nee, Paul. We will be returning home this evening. We need to be in our own district for communion tomorrow morning.” She dried her hands on the front of her apron and joined Hannah on the sofa, reaching out to tuck the blanket back from the baby’s face. A soft expression of love crossed her face, and she lifted her eyes to look at Hannah. “They are so precious when they sleep, ain’t they?” she whispered.

  Curious, Paul stepped forward and looked down at the bundle in Hannah’s arms. Emma watched with delight as she saw his own emotion on his face. As the oldest son of the family, Paul did not have any nieces or nephews yet. His experience with kinner was limited to his own five siblings. From the way he looked at the boppli, it was clear what was on his mind.

  “Will you be staying for a spell, Paul?” Emma asked.

  He looked up as if startled from his thoughts. “Nee, Emma,” he said, turning his attention away from Hannah with the baby and directing his focus onto her. “While I would so greatly love to stay to visit, I must return home, for we’re to visit family this evening.”

  With a simple clicking of her tongue, Emma expressed her disappointment.

  “However, I did want to stop by to pick up your quilt. We’ll be in that area and it’s the perfect chance to drop it off at the Hostetlers’.”

  As usual his thoughtfulness touched Emma, just one more reminder that Paul Esh would make a wunderbaar gut husband for someone. She knew, from the twinkle in his eye, that the someone in question, the one he had in mind to court, was none other than Hannah.

  “Then I shall not delay,” Emma said cheerfully. “I’m just so grateful that you are able to take it, Paul.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Emma glanced at her sister. “Irene, mayhaps you might help me collect it? I’ll need help wrapping it.”

  She had only just finished the final stitches the previous evening. Earlier that morning she had made Irene study it in great detail to ensure that she had not overlooked any area or that any stitches were loose.

  Now they climbed the stairs to the second floor, leaving Paul and Hannah alone. Emma could hear them talking softly and wondered what they might be discussing. She hoped it was Paul asking to take her to the singing the following evening, for Hannah was not an official member of the g’may yet and therefore could not attend the communion service in the morning. This would be Paul’s only chance to ask Hannah to ride to the evening youth singing.

  Carefully they folded the unbound quilt and set it upon Emma’s bed. If Irene suspected that Emma took more time than she needed to wrap the quilt in a clean white sheet to protect it from dust along the journey, she said nothing. Yet Emma felt the heat of her older sister’s eyes upon her as she worked. She tried to ignore Irene’s inquisitive stare and began to hum a hymn as she went about her task.

  When they finally returned to the kitchen, Emma was disappointed to see that Paul had retreated outside and was no longer keeping Hannah company. Carrying the wrapped quilt in her arms, Emma headed outside to where the men were gathered on the porch.

  “Ah, there you are!” Paul said happily and reached to take the quilt from her. “Is this the most prized quilt that I have the distinct honor of taking to the Hostetler’s for binding?”

  She flushed at his words.

  “Now that I have it, I will make haste so that I can catch up with my family,” Paul said, unaware or merely oblivious to Emma’s discomfort. “I shall see you all at communion tomorrow, ja?”

  “Not all,” Emma quickly offered. “Hannah will not be there.”

  For a moment Paul looked downcast and disappointed as if he had not previously realized that. “Such a shame that she will not enjoy worship and fellowship with us,” he said, a genuine inflection of sorrow in his voice. After a moment’s pause, just enough to pay proper respect to the mention of Hannah’s misfortune, Paul brightened and lowered his voice as he said, “But, of course, I shall look forward to seeing you instead.”

  Her mouth fell open and she stared at him as he started to carry the packaged quilt to the buggy. She had expected more of a solemn response, not a quick recovery at her reminder that Hannah would be absent from worship. But Paul seemed quite content as he walked a few steps then paused, glancing over his shoulder at Emma. “Mayhaps you might assist me in putting the quilt in the buggy. I would prefer that you lay it the proper way so that it does not wrinkle or get mussed.”

  Ignoring the amused look on Gideon’s face, she followed Paul, more out of curiosity than a need to actually assist him. Once she joined him at the buggy, she was surprised that he made no motion to leave. Instead he stood ther
e by the buggy for a moment, fiddling with his hat and shuffling his feet.

  “Paul?” she asked. “Is there something else?”

  He glanced over her shoulder, making certain that no one was close enough to overhear.

  “I have brought something for you,” he whispered, his eyes still roaming behind her to ensure that they were alone. “The other day, when we were in the carriage on our way to my aendi’s, you asked for a Bible verse for the collection you and Hannah are making, and I have brought it.”

  She wondered at his attempt at secrecy over something so trivial. “How kind of you!” was all that she could think of saying.

  There was another moment of hesitation and he leaned forward, lowering his voice once again. “You may not want to put it in the book, Emma. I think you will understand why after you read it.”

  She did not have the chance to respond before he had slipped a small folded piece of paper into her hand.

  “I shall see you at the communion service on Sunday then, Emma,” he added, his voice soft as he took a step backward and adjusted the straw hat on his head. He swiftly untied his horse from the hitching post and climbed into the buggy. At no time did he look at her again. In fact, it seemed as though he were avoiding her on purpose.

  How odd, she pondered, a confused frown on her face. Only when his buggy disappeared down the road in the direction of Bird-in-Hand did she look down at the paper. With a quick glance over her shoulder to make certain no one was observing her, she quickly unfolded it and let her eyes drift over the neatly written words:

  Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church.