A Perfect Amish Match (Indiana Amish Brides Book 3)

by Vannetta Chapman

  There was an obvious respect for each other between Justin and Sarah. Noah felt a twinge of envy. Who wouldn’t?

  “I thought you two were going to town.”

  “Already did. You’ve been out here awhile, bro.”

  Noah glanced around. The stalls were clean, fresh hay had been laid, all the buckets had water and the tools had been put back on their pegs. When had he done all of that? How long had he been in the barn? He glanced through the open door and saw the sky darkening, so it must be after eight. Yeah, he’d been in the barn a couple of hours.

  Instead of explaining that he’d lost track of time, he said, “It’s been a long day. Think I’ll go in and clean up.”

  “Actually we wanted to talk to you.” Sarah nodded her head toward the chairs set out under the tall sycamore tree. “Maybe over there, where there’s a breeze?”

  “I can’t be in trouble. I haven’t been home long enough today to do anything but eat and muck stalls.”

  “Don’t be so defensive,” Justin said.

  “Ya. Maybe we just like hanging out with you.” Sarah bumped her shoulder against his.

  He’d only known his brother’s wife a few weeks, but already he could tell that she was good for Justin and easy to get along with. The three of them sat under the tree, Justin and Sarah in the bench swing, and Noah in the metal lawn chair. He realized that he hadn’t really taken the time to do this since he’d been home—to just sit and be with his family. It seemed that he’d spent the last ten years running away from things, or running toward them, but never being still.

  A firefly sparked in front of him, then another.

  Somewhere near the porch a bullfrog croaked.

  A songbird called out to its mate—short, urgent notes that were quickly answered. Noah tipped back his head and studied the stars that he could see through the branches of the tree.

  After a few moments, he said, “This is nice, but I suspect there’s something you want to say to me.”

  “Well, now that you mention it...” Sarah placed her hand on top of her stomach. “We know that the family has been pushing you to court.”

  “Pushing is a gut word for it.”

  “Yup. They’re ‘all up in your business.’” Justin laughed at the phrase that even Amish youngies used. “But you know it’s because they care.”

  “Uh-huh.” He was getting a bad feeling about this talk.

  “Don’t look so defensive,” Sarah said.

  “How does a person look defensive?”

  “Like that...crossing your arms tight and frowning so hard I’m pretty sure there’s a wrinkle between your eyes.”

  Which made him laugh. The last thing he was worried about was wrinkles.

  Sarah cleared her throat and smiled. “We just want you to know that we approve of Olivia Mae.”

  “What?” He nearly came out of the lawn chair, then eased back and forced himself to not cross his arms tightly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Only that we think you two would make a good match.” Justin put his arms across the back of the swing. “We want to be encouraging.”

  “And offer to help, so if she, you know, needs help with her grandparents so that she can get away, we’d be happy to sit with them.”

  Had they been eavesdropping on his and Olivia Mae’s conversation? But that was impossible. He’d been at her house. The Amish grapevine was good, but it wasn’t that good. Only the sheep could have overheard them. Sarah was a good guesser, or maybe she’d read the situation better than he had. Maybe it wasn’t a guess after all.

  “Actually, we are going out tomorrow.”

  Sarah looked up at Justin. “See? I told you.”

  “Uh-uh. It’s not like that. It’s another lesson.”

  “A lesson?” Justin shook his head, as if he wasn’t about to fall for that.

  “Didn’t you just have one of those?” Sarah reached her foot forward and pushed the swing into motion. “Must be going really well.”

  “And you two must be awfully bored if you want to spend your free time teasing me.”

  “We’re not teasing.” Justin glanced at his wife. “And it was her idea, to offer to sit with Abe and Rachel. After what you shared at dinner, it sounds like Olivia Mae could use some help.”

  He had mentioned the doctor’s assessment at dinner. He’d forgotten about that.

  “I’m sure she could use some help,” Noah admitted. “And I don’t know why she hasn’t asked for it up until now—embarrassed, I guess.”

  “Or in denial.” Sarah nodded her head so hard that her kapp strings bounced. “I know a little about that.”

  He suddenly remembered the situation Sarah had been in before Olivia Mae had matched her with Justin. She’d been the sole caretaker for an elderly aenti. When the aenti had passed, Sarah hadn’t known what she was going to do. She didn’t have any other family, and she’d tried maintaining the home by herself. It was only when Olivia Mae had stopped over for a visit that the community had understood how in need Sarah was.

  Justin had shared all of this when Noah had first come home, but he hadn’t really thought about it until now. Maybe Sarah did know something about what Olivia Mae was going through. Perhaps the two of them would make good friends.

  “I appreciate your vote of approval, but Olivia Mae and I are just friends.”

  “So that’s why you spent all day repairing her roof, because you’re gut friends?”

  “Was I supposed to leave it like it was, leaking?”

  “We have groups who do home repairs for those who can’t. You could have let Lucas know, and he would have seen that it was taken care of—”

  Noah shook his head before Justin could finish. “It only took a couple of hours.”

  “But you were gone all day,” Sarah said softly.

  “Yeah, I know I was. I wanted to wait and see what the doctor had to say. I was worried about her.” He lifted his hands, palms out. “I was worried about my friend.”

  Sarah and Justin shared a look between them that he couldn’t read. Pushing herself to her feet, Sarah stood, stretched and walked to where he was sitting. She put a hand on his shoulder, and said, “Just don’t wait too long to make up your mind.”

  Make up my mind?

  Maybe Sarah had spent too much time in the sun today. She wasn’t making a lot of sense.

  Justin hopped up to follow her in, but held back a minute. “I don’t know how she knows things like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “You being in love with Olivia Mae.”

  “I’m not in love—”

  “Women. It’s like they have a sixth sense about these things.” He slapped Noah on the back and followed his wife into the house, leaving Noah to stare up at the stars and wonder if they were right.

  Was he in love with Olivia Mae Miller?

  Chapter Ten

  It was past nine o’clock when Olivia Mae finally went to her room, pulled off her kapp and unbraided her hair. Massaging her scalp, she tried to relax, but she was too keyed up. Too much had happened in one day. She would never be able to sleep if she went to bed now.

  So she tried knitting. When she’d dropped a stitch three different times, she frogged the row she’d been working on, reinserted her needles in the previous row’s loops and put the project back in her bag.

  Perhaps she should try reading, but when she picked up the book from the library with the Christian romance sticker on the side, she simply held it and stared out the window. The man and woman on the cover caused a deep yearning to stir in her heart. She loved matching people together, but she was rather practical about it. When the people she put together were meant to be a couple, it seemed that the emotions followed. But what did she really know about falling in love? How did it feel to trust someone else with your hurts and dreams and
feelings?

  She put the book back on her dresser and picked up the one Mammi had given her the previous Christmas. But even the book on sheep trivia didn’t hold her attention. As Olivia Mae paged through it, she kept thinking of Noah and his silly jokes.

  She thought of him on top of their roof, his hat pulled low over his eyes.

  Could practically see him as he reached for the reins of Zeus and said, I’ll take care of the horse.

  She could see him smiling at her as she told him about the sheep.

  Why was she thinking about Noah Graber? He was a friend, a fellow church member, someone she was trying to match. She had no reason to let her thoughts drift off any of those paths.

  So instead she jumped up and began straightening items in her already tidy room. It was while she was dusting off the top of her dresser that she found the letter box Noah had brought to her house nearly a month ago.

  Sinking onto her bed, she pushed back the covers, sat cross-legged and held the box in her lap.

  She ran her fingers over the soft wood, the engraved butterflies and finally the clasp.

  Pulling in a deep breath, she opened it and upended the letters in her lap. She still remembered how clever she felt at the time that she’d written them. All of the other girls her age were keeping a diary, but she had decided to write letters to herself. In the back of her mind, she’d pictured herself years in the future—sitting in a new home with her husband and children scattered throughout the rooms. In the daydream, she’d occasionally receive a letter from herself, as if she could have mailed it from the past.

  Powerless to resist the pull of her own handwriting, the words of her younger self, she picked up the first sheet, unfolded it and began to read.

  June 8

  Staying with Mammi and Daddi is my favorite part of summer. It’s so much better than being at home, where my bruders roughhouse and fart and laugh at stupid jokes. It’s no easy thing being the only girl in a house full of boys. When I get married, my husband is going to have good manners and enjoy the things I enjoy—like reading and taking walks and watching sunsets.

  June 17

  Suzanne told Martha who told me that Suzanne’s brother likes me. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I’m keeping an open mind.

  June 18

  Suzanne and Martha and I were sitting in the back of the barn during the singing tonight. Richard came over and asked if he could sit beside me. He held my hand during the last song, but afterward he went back to his friends. They were laughing, and he looked over at me a few times.

  Does he like me?

  Does he want to be my beau?

  I wish I had an older schweschder to talk to. Mammi’s too old to remember courting.

  June 25

  Richard kissed me tonight.

  I think I might be falling in love.

  June 28

  Today might have been the worst day of my life. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but that didn’t stop me from hearing, and as Mammi is fond of saying, you can’t unhear something so be careful what you listen to.

  How I wish I had followed that advice.

  Only I am glad that I heard. Otherwise I would have gone on believing that Richard actually liked me. Instead I know it was just a dare. I was coming back from using the outhouse. As I came around the corner, I saw them all standing together and heard someone mention my name. I jumped backward, curious and embarrassed at the same time. I was close enough to hear, though—to hear and recognize who was speaking.

  Richard’s friend laughed and said, “You should date her. Honest. I hear a plump wife and a big barn never did any man harm.”

  I thought I might die right there, but I knew boys could be rude. Don’t I have five bruders? It didn’t bother me, what Richard’s friend said. But then I heard Richard speak over their laughter.

  “Nope, the slender kind is more my type. Now pay up. I kissed her like you dared me to.”

  I should have known he couldn’t really be interested in me.

  No one our age wants a plump wife.

  No one wants me.

  I want to go home.

  The letters weren’t in any particular order. She relived that summer in random sequence, relived the hopes and dreams and disappointments. Finally, she read the last one, folded up the letters, slipped them back into the box and closed the lid.

  But she didn’t put the box up.

  Instead she turned out her light and sat there in the dark, moonlight spilling in through her window, her mind traveling back to that summer when she’d written the letters to herself, when she’d first fallen in love, when she’d felt beautiful and womanly.

  She’d thought the letters would be like writing to a best friend or a sister.

  She’d thought it would be fun—that someday she’d look back and laugh at her younger self. That she’d be amazed at how young and bright and witty she was.

  She could see now that she’d been a young girl with a fragile self-image. She had allowed a boy she barely knew to break her heart. She’d allowed her opinion of herself to be changed because of what a teenaged boy said to one of his buddies.

  Was that why she’d never dated?

  Why she’d always pushed away men?

  Was that why she’d become a matchmaker?

  She gently placed the box on top of the dresser and climbed back into bed, this time lying down and staring up at the ceiling.

  She’d struggled with her weight as a teenager. As a young adult, she’d told herself it didn’t matter. She remembered the year her mother had to sew new dresses for her because she couldn’t let out the old ones she had any more. It wasn’t a big deal. Many Amish girls carried an extra twenty pounds, though by that time all of Olivia Mae’s friends were dating or married.

  She flopped over onto her side and stared out the window.

  When she’d moved in with her grandparents, she’d worked harder than she ever had before. She’d also changed her diet—not from any misguided notion of attracting a beau, but because she’d been worried about her grandparents’ health. The pounds slipped away, but the image she had of herself had remained the same. She was no longer heavy, but neither was she slender—Richard’s word caused her to cringe.

  She could see now that in some ways she was still a young girl, on the brink of womanhood, pining away for Richard Hofstetter.

  She jumped up, snagged her brush from the top of her dresser and sat down in the single rocking chair in her room. Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she stared down at it. As a young girl, she’d loved to watch her mother brush her own hair each evening. It had reached well past her waist, and Olivia Mae thought it was the stuff of fairy tales. She’d thought of her mother as an Amish Rapunzel, only she didn’t need to be saved because she had a happy home, a loving husband, a family.

  Remembering her mother didn’t bring the pain it once had. She still missed her parents, still wished she could speak with them, but she knew she would—one day. They’d be reunited in the next life. She didn’t doubt that for a moment, and it eased the loneliness in her heart.

  Her hair was now longer than her mother’s was then, though most of the blond strands had darkened to brown. She brushed it, one hundred strokes, the same as her mother had always done, then she plaited it into a loose braid.

  She’d changed.

  She wasn’t the young girl who had written those letters. She was a woman now. Maybe it was time—past time—to accept that she wasn’t a chubby young girl that no man would want anymore.

  Maybe it was time to stop being a matchmaker, to stop focusing on finding happiness for others and to start living her own life.

  Just maybe it was time to allow herself to dream.

  * * *

  A home health-care nurse came by the house the next afternoon. Jeanette Allen was a large woman, wearing
loose-fitting blue jeans and a top that was a soft purple and featured cats playing with balls of yarn. It was soon obvious to Olivia Mae that Jeanette was comfortable with herself and very good at her job.

  She had a checklist and went through the house marking things on her clipboard. When she’d finished, she joined Mammi and Olivia Mae in the kitchen.

  “You have a beautiful home.”

  “Danki.” Mammi placed a platter of oatmeal cookies on the table.

  Olivia Mae fixed a cup of coffee for each of them.

  “So did we pass?” Olivia Mae asked.

  Mammi was more specific with her question. “We don’t have to move him, do we? Because Olivia Mae and I, we’re determined to keep Abe here as long as possible, and—being Amish and all—we don’t often resort to nursing homes.”

  “It’s not a pass-or-fail thing. I understand that you’d rather keep him here, and that isn’t my call, anyway. If I were to find your home to be a neglectful or unsafe environment, then I would be required to report that to my supervisor, who would report it to the authorities, but it’s obvious that isn’t the case.”

  She smiled at them both, waited for her words to sink in and then continued. “I can tell that you’re doing your very best to care for Mr. Lapp.”

  She sipped the coffee and accepted a cookie when Mammi pushed the plate toward her. “There are things that you can do to make life easier for Mr. Lapp. Would he like to join us as we discuss those?”

  “He’s resting,” Mammi said. “Days when he takes a nap, well, they’re better for all of us. He seems less...aggravated.”

  “Understandable. All right. Let’s see what I’ve checked here.”

  Most of the items were obvious, and Olivia Mae was a little embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of them earlier.

  Remove the rugs so that Daddi doesn’t trip.

  Place red tape on the floor around the stove they used to heat the living room in winter and also on the handles of the stove and oven in the kitchen.