“Ya. I’m journaling about my good qualities, like Olivia Mae told me to.”
Olivia Mae only raised an eyebrow and bit into her chicken. It really was good. She’d learned the recipe from Mammi. The trick was to use a good sprinkling of garlic salt but not too much, and to keep the fire high enough to render the coating crispy but not burnt.
“Just tell us who it is.” Francine clasped her hands in her lap and leaned forward. “It is Noah? I bet it is. He’s the only new person I see here, and you have a definite new-person glint in your eye.”
“I didn’t know my eyes were so readable.” Olivia Mae wiped at her mouth with her napkin. “Yes, it is Noah, and I think we should give Jane the first try.”
“Because I’m taller. That’s it. Right?” Jane slumped down in her seat. “Why do I have to be so—”
“Three things.”
Jane rolled her eyes.
“I’m serious about this—you both know I am. Our first step toward progress is to defeat those negative thoughts in your mind. Now tell me three positive things about your height.”
Francine giggled, but Jane screwed up her face as if she hadn’t been presented with this question a dozen times. She had. Olivia Mae thought it was her biggest obstacle to finding a suitable man. Jane wasn’t that tall, but in her mind she was an ostrich. It didn’t help that her first few dates had been with very short men, which only served to reinforce the gangly image she had of herself.
“I can reach the top shelf in the pantry.”
“Gut.”
“I’ve stopped growing.”
“Not sure that’s a positive thing, but go on.”
“It’s something I inherited from my dat, who I adore. So it’s...I don’t know—nice to be like him in some way.”
Olivia Mae put down her fork, which was filled with macaroni salad. “I think we’ve had a breakthrough. You genuinely meant that.”
“Ya. Maybe the journaling is helping, because it occurred to me that even though I don’t enjoy being taller than most men, I love the fact that I have something in common with my dat.”
“I suspect you have a lot in common with him.”
“Back to the dating thing...” Francine was much more invested in the matchmaking process, maybe too much. Her enthusiasm tended to frighten men. It was one of the reasons that Olivia Mae thought that Jane might be a better match for someone as shy as Noah.
“I only met Noah earlier this week.”
“Tell us about him.” Francine stole a glance over her shoulder at Noah.
He was sitting three tables away with his bruders and their wives. Was he the only Graber son who wasn’t married? Olivia Mae thought he was, but she’d have to ask around to be sure. That could work in their favor, too.
“He’s nice enough. Obviously he’s easy on the eyes.”
“I’ll say.” Francine grinned.
Jane blushed, but she was listening intently.
“He’s working as an auctioneer in Shipshe.”
“Is that why he moved back?” Jane asked.
“Ya, and it’s gut that he knows what he wants to do. He won’t be distracted by that question as some men are—”
“I still can’t believe that Elijah took a job at the RV factory.” Jane shook her head in obvious disbelief. She’d thought Elijah would settle down and work for the town farrier, but it apparently wasn’t destined to be. “He told his schweschder, who told me, that working around the horses just wasn’t challenging enough. What’s not challenging about shoeing horses?”
“Let’s focus.” Olivia Mae picked up her brownie, took a bite and allowed the sugar and chocolate to work their magic. Why was it that things you weren’t supposed to eat a lot of were so delicious? “Seems to me that Noah might be self-conscious about his height.”
“How tall is he?” Jane asked.
“A little over six feet, I think. I didn’t exactly measure him when he came by the house.” She hadn’t meant to say that. One glance at Jane and Francine told her she’d have to go through the entire story of how he’d returned her box, so she did so quickly. “Anyway. He’s back in town, working at the auction house, and he says he’s happily single.”
“Uh-oh.” Jane sat up straighter, which was another improvement. She used to always slump, trying to make herself shorter.
“That’s what they all say,” Francine reminded them. “His own bruder—Justin—told you that he wasn’t interested in dating at all. That it was a waste of time! Look at him now. He’s happily married and expecting a boppli.”
“Sometimes that makes things easier, when another person in the family has been successfully matched. Other times...” Olivia Mae noticed Noah was being teased by his bruders. He glanced toward her table, shook his head, picked up his plate and walked away. “Other times it can make a man more resistant to change.”
“Why am I not encouraged by this entire talk?” Jane began to chew on her thumbnail, but tucked her hands back into her lap when she noticed Olivia Mae watching. “Sounds like he’s not interested at all. What’s your plan?”
“My plan is to convince him that it’s his idea.”
Chapter Three
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 cool
er 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 a
mount 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.
A Perfect Amish Match (Indiana Amish Brides Book 3) Page 3
