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

by Sarah Price

  “Hannah,” he said, the name causing Emma to pause.

  She had seen her friend only once since her marriage to Gideon and that was at worship. To Emma’s dismay, neither she nor Gladys accepted her invitation for joining the small gathering to play Scrabble and share coffee at the Weavers’ haus afterward. This refusal caused Emma some distress, for she feared that, despite their talk at the wedding, Hannah was avoiding her. It didn’t matter that Gladys claimed she was not feeling well and Hannah insisted she had other plans. Her downcast eyes when she politely refused gave Emma pause to question the truth behind the statement.

  Could she honestly have perceived herself so enamored with Gideon that their friendship was over? The thought pained Emma, but she also knew that there was nothing she could do about it. It was up to Hannah to recover and move on, accepting the situation and being thankful no one else had been made privy to the intimate details that might otherwise cause them both great embarrassment.

  “Do you know already, then?” he asked, made curious by Emma’s unusual silence.

  “I have not seen her since worship,” she admitted carefully, worried that something dreadful might have happened to her friend.

  “Ah, then I will be the one to tell you the horrible news,” he said, looking forlorn and gloomy, despite the fact that Emma suspected that his expression was entirely feigned. “I have had a visit this morning from Ralph Martin, you see. It does appear that he will be taking a fraa at last!”

  Emma felt her heart flip-flop. “Oh, dear! How will Hannah react to this news! It is horrible.” She tried to pull away from Gideon, feeling the urge to pace the floor. She could only imagine what Hannah would feel when she heard. After all, this would be the third man who she had expressed interest in that married another. “That poor, poor Hannah. That would be the third time her heart is broken!”

  Gideon laughed. “Nee. He is to wed your ‘poor, poor’ Hannah. It’s to be announced this Sunday at worship!”

  Emma stared at him, amazed at his announcement. “Is this true?”

  “It is, indeed!”

  “Oh, my!” A hand fluttered to her chest and Emma relaxed. “Why, this is not horrible news! This is the best news ever, Gideon!” She looked up at him. “Tell me everything! Do you know how this has come about?”

  “I didn’t question him, Emma,” he said reproachfully. “Although Ralph did mention seeing her at our wedding. I do believe that was the rekindling of the flame. I suspect that is why she has not been around to visit, for he has apparently been visiting with her every evening.”

  Emma was delighted with this news, if not discouraged by her husband’s lack of details. “Well, I shall have to get the longer story directly from Hannah, then!” she said, her mind already trying to figure out how to coordinate a visit with her friend as soon as possible.

  For all of Emma’s happiness about the upcoming betrothal of her friend, Gideon seemed equally pleased with her response. “I see you have markedly changed your opinion about this matter since we first discussed it so long ago,” he remarked. “Or perhaps you merely lost your sense of smell?” he added, a smirk on his face.

  “Ja, I have. I mean . . . nee. Oh, Gideon, stop teasing!” she exclaimed, momentarily covering her face with her hands to hide the blush that covered her cheeks. “I was foolish, I reckon.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, ja?”

  “But, mayhaps, a little less so now,” she allowed herself to admit, which caused him to laugh as he embraced her.

  “A little less, for sure and certain,” he chuckled.

  With a new cheerfulness to her step, she moved about the kitchen while Gideon settled down at the table, the Budget newspaper now in his hands. The noise of the paper crinkling whenever he turned the pages comforted her. Occasionally, as she finished preparing the dinner meal, she glanced over her shoulder to watch him, a smile upon her lips and joy in her heart. Seeing Gideon seated at the far end of the table felt natural and caused her great happiness.

  Returning to her work, she said a prayer of thanks to God for all of His blessings. It was not the first time that she had paused to reflect upon the power of God’s will. Despite her previous naiveté in thinking she could help shape the future of others, she had learned so much. Now she was humbled in the knowledge that God had far greater plans for His people than a mere human could ever imagine. Even with her interferences, regardless of how good her intentions might have been, God’s plan would always prevail. All she had to do was have faith.

  Outside the kitchen window, a gray-topped buggy pulled by a high-stepping brown horse could be heard, the noise of its heavy horseshoes clattering against the road. The gentle whirling of the buggy wheels grew louder as it passed the Weaver house. The sound reminded her of the voice of God, gentle at first, but, if ignored, becoming stronger and louder to draw the attention back toward Him.

  It was a reminder that lingered in her soul, long after the sound finally disappeared from her ears.

  Coming in 2015 From Sarah Price

  Second Chances

  Chapter One

  ANNA EICHER SAT in the old rocking chair by the wood-burning stove, quietly quilting as she listened to her father and her two sisters talk with Lydia Rothberger, an elderly woman from the g’may who had taken on the role of dispensing maternal wisdom ever since their mother passed away ten years ago. Lydia’s presence in the kitchen was always welcomed, even if she charged the air with a tight energy of propriety.

  With each stitch that Anna pulled through the fabric, her dark eyes glanced up, just for a moment. No one noticed. They were too engrossed in their discussion, the three other women’s attention focusing on her father.

  With a silent resolve Anna tried to concentrate on her work, knowing that the tiny stitches in the baby blanket she was making for her younger sister Mary was the only input she would make today. No one cared what she thought about the possibility of her father losing their small family farm anyway. The affront did not bother her. Indeed, she was just as happy to stay out of the heated discussion.

  “What will people think? They will talk for weeks! Mayhaps months!” William said, his hands raised just slightly in the air. The deep wrinkles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights and hard decisions. He looked first at Elizabeth and then to Lydia. “You know that Amish grapevine. Gossiping and speculating, all of them.”

  Anna bit her lower lip, too aware that the biggest contributor to that grapevine was her own father.

  Elizabeth shook her head, equally as distraught. “There must be another way. Perhaps to hire young men to farm the fields.”

  That suggestion invigorated William. A new look of optimism lifted the cloud of despair that had rested upon his face. With great hope in his eyes, he pointed at his oldest daughter while he glanced over at Lydia for her response. “Ja! That’s a right gut idea! Hire men to work the farm!”

  “William,” Lydia said, leaning forward and gently touching his knee. The gesture was one of familiarity without intimacy.

  Almost thirty years had passed since Lydia stood beside her best friend, Anne Hershberger, at an early November wedding. The two women had grown up together in Sugarcreek, Ohio, and it was only natural that Lydia be her attendant when Anne married William Eicher. Best friends from childhood, the two young women remained just as close when Anne moved to the small town of Charm, just ten miles away.

  Since that time, Lydia Rothberger’s presence in the Eicher family had been constant: through births, deaths, baptisms, and one marriage. Her sensibility guided the daughters and, on occasion, their father. “It’s time to consider alternatives. You simply cannot maintain it, William, and you have spent your savings. There is no money left to hire young men.” She hesitated, glancing at Anna with a sympathetic look in her eyes. “Nor to even make it through the winter, I fear. You might consider selling it to live off the proceeds.”

  He stood up and began pacing the room, twisting his hands in front of him. “This haus ha
s been in the family for generations!” His feet shuffled across the perfectly waxed and shiny linoleum floor. Anna worked hard to ensure that it was never dull or filmy. “Who would buy it?” He shook his head and continued pacing. “People will say I cannot provide for my family! Humiliating!” With stooped shoulders and glazed eyes, he paused to consider this thought. “Nee! Disastrous!”

  “Scandalous, indeed!” Elizabeth added.

  Anna looked up and studied her older sister. Ever since their mother died, Elizabeth had assumed the position of the female head of the house, helping their father make decisions. But it was Lydia who provided a maternal presence, at least to Anna. On most occasions Elizabeth deferred to Lydia. However, if Lydia was not around, there was simply no reasoning with father and eldest daughter. They seemed to agree on anything and everything as long as it maintained their image within the community. And that left out Anna.

  As for Mary . . .

  Anna looked at her other schwester. She was the prettiest of the three and, being married, the only one who wore a white prayer kapp at worship service. Her waist, while not quite as thick as Elizabeth’s, still showed the extra weight that went with bearing children, although Anna wondered if she might be expecting another baby already.

  Unlike Elizabeth who worried more about the conjecture of others in regard to the family reputation, Mary’s concerns were about having to support her destitute father and sisters. “If you sold your house, where would you live?” She lifted her head and stared first at her father and then at Elizabeth. Anna offered a meek, “We could stay with you, Mary.”

  This idea flustered Mary and she responded with a quick excuse. “You know that our haus is already too small! Salome Musser refuses to give up the larger part!” She pursed her lips and sighed. “Imagine that! Putting us into the grossdawdihaus with two small kinner!” She clicked her tongue three times as she shook her head, clearly disapproving of her mother-in-law’s decision. “Her own son, me, and two grandchildren! Living in such cramped quarters!”

  No one responded to her complaints. Nor did anyone point out that she still had a spare bedroom, given that the two young boys shared one. However, Mary’s family all knew what was required when Mary went on a self-indulging rampage: a proper moment’s hesitation, as if permitting a respectful silence to acknowledge Mary’s complaint, before continuing to address a situation at hand.

  At last Elizabeth broke the compulsory silence. With her porcelainlike white hands folded together and resting so primly on her lap, she appeared almost like an austere school teacher as if she were reprimanding rambunctious young children. Only she wasn’t: she was scolding her father. “I dare say that selling the house would raise eyebrows, Daed.” She paused, hesitating as if mulling over her own words. “But there must be something we can do. Why, the Hostetlers kept their family place even after all of those medical bills required not one but two rounds of aid from the g’may!” She turned her head and looked at Lydia. “Certainly we are better off than that!”

  Once again a glimmer of hope shone from his eyes. For the second time that evening William pointed at Elizabeth as if her suggestion was the solution to his problems. “Ja, that’s the truth!” A glow of eagerness returned to his face. “No one can doubt that we have done much better than that Henry Hostetler!”

  Lydia shook her head. “I’ve gone over your numbers, William. You have simply spent far more than you have earned . . . or saved. The maintenance on this property plus the taxes on the land are only part of the problem. You also spent almost ten thousand dollars on that new buggy last spring.”

  “And the horse,” Anna whispered.

  Lydia nodded at the reminder. “And the horse. That was a very expensive horse, William, especially considering the fancy harness you purchased from Benny Zook.”

  “Fancy harness?” He looked incredulous at the words spoken by Lydia. “I see nothing wrong with purchasing a good quality harness for a horse that is sound and capable.”

  “It was green as they come, William,” Lydia reminded him, with just enough gentleness in her voice so that he did not become more irritated. “You had to pay John and Martin Wagler to break it.”

  “I’m sure that Cris would be happy to buy your new buggy,” Mary cheerfully offered, as a way of moving the conversation along, ignoring the glare that Elizabeth sent in her direction. She smiled as if this alone would solve her father’s money problem. “Although it is used now so it wouldn’t fetch the same price, I reckon.”

  This suggestion did not sit well with William. “I just purchased that buggy! It has the new battery that recharges! I shall not part with it! Perhaps I should just sell a few acres.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that,” Lydia said, a gentleness to her voice that did little to lighten the news. “Even selling those unused acres that you never farm wouldn’t help, William. And frankly it would make the property less valuable in the long run.”

  It wasn’t a big property, just ten acres. Many years ago it had been much larger, but as customary among Amish families, parcels were divided and given to sons throughout the generations. Anna loved to walk through the tall grasses in the back acres, sometimes finding a broken piece of metal from an older plow or harvester in her path, especially after a sweet spring rain. She knew that her grandfather, Grossdawdi Eicher, had lived on the property, helping his own daed farm those acres a couple of generations ago. But when he married and acquired the small farmette, he chose not to farm but worked in minerals, instead. With only two children who survived into adulthood, he didn’t have to worry about decisions regarding inheritance. His son, David, eight years older than William, had married and moved to the southern part of Holmes County. With his wife, he raised their five daughters and one son. Now that David was older and bound to a wheelchair, he lived on the same farm with that son and two grandsons, the oldest of whom ran the large farm.

  As for William, he followed in his father’s footsteps, and when Grossdawdi Eicher passed away, he had inherited the farmette, the perfect size for raising his own small family.

  Minerals had been a valuable career path for William, given that there was limited competition. The rewards for his efforts were great from a financial perspective. The only problem was that he had sold the business three years ago, retiring when he hit sixty-one and his vision worsened. Too many years of refusing to wear glasses when the sun went down had quickened his visual impairment. Without a steady income, his unwillingness to decrease spending had begun to seriously deplete his nest egg. And though not spoken aloud, everyone knew that they could not accept assistance from the g’may without revealing that pattern of profligate spending.

  Now he sat in his chair, trying to digest Lydia’s words, while rubbing his hands as if attempting to ward off a deep pain. A flare-up. Again. Without being asked, Anna set down her quilting and quietly stole across the room to retrieve a small plastic container from the propane-powered refrigerator. She unscrewed the lid of the jar as she approached her father. Kneeling by his side, she dipped her finger in the jar and began to rub the waxlike ointment onto his hands, the scent of lavender slowly filling the room.

  Only Lydia appeared to notice.

  The older woman smiled as she observed Anna’s attentiveness to her aging father’s arthritis. It always seemed to flare whenever he became upset. Over the years, however, he stopped seeing doctors, claiming their Englische medicine was too suspicious and full of ingredients he couldn’t pronounce.

  He withdrew his hand from Anna’s, motioning for her to leave his side. It was not an overtly rude motion, or at least Anna didn’t take it that way. No, she merely picked up the lid to the jar and got to her feet, quietly returning the ointment to the refrigerator while he talked.

  “I just don’t understand how this happened.” He frowned, the deep wrinkles by his eyes mirrored by the ones engraved in his forehead. Lines of age meant years of wisdom, Anna thought as she sat back on the sofa and watched him. Or in his case
years of foolish spending. “So many years! So much work! Where has all of the money gone?” This last question, directed at Lydia, was spoken in a tone that bespoke genuine worry and fear.

  “Daed,” Anna chimed in, her soft voice barely audible. “No one will think any less of you for selling the haus. There are worse things, I suppose.”

  “What could possibly be worse?” His voice cracked as he addressed Anna. Her sensible nature often conflicted with his vanity, a character trait so contrary to the Amish life that Anna often wondered how he had not once been reprimanded by the bishop. Now, and not for the first time, he stared at her, an expression of incredulity on his face, as if the words she had spoken were that of a child and not an intelligent woman. “It isn’t your reputation at stake, need I remind you?”

  “William!” Lydia gestured toward the reclining chair. “Please sit. You’re working yourself into a tizzy.”

  Silently Anna watched as her father did as Lydia instructed. Bless her heart, she thought. Dear Lydia with her calming influence over stressful situations in the Eicher house. Without Lydia, Anna knew that there were times that even Elizabeth would not be able to handle her father’s anxieties. Clearly this was one of those.

  William took a short breath and lifted his chin. “Ja vell, I won’t be letting that Willis get his hands on it, that’s for sure and certain!”

  “Daed!” The anger in her father’s expression caught Anna off guard. As soon as the word slipped from her lips, she covered her mouth. She hadn’t meant to reprimand him; however, his display of anger, especially so pointedly at one particular individual—and family at that!—upset her. She was thankful that no one else had paid attention to his outburst.

  William turned toward Anna. Lifting his hand in the air, he pointed toward the heavens. “God is my witness, I don’t care whether or not he’s my nephew’s son! The injustice he did to this family!” His anger dissipated just enough so that, when he looked at Elizabeth, there was less fire in his eyes. “Ach, the humiliation! It’s unthinkable that his banns were read after he came calling on you!” He reached out to pat her hand, a gesture of comfort to his oldest daughter. “Why, the entire church district whispered for months, and not even John David would invite me to play checkers that winter!”