He snorted.
“If you want a relationship you have to be willing to spend the time and a little money.”
“Fine.”
“And it’s a chance to enjoy yourself. You work hard. One dinner out a week isn’t such an extravagance.”
“We’re supposed to do this every week?”
She hoped he was kidding, but one look at his face told her he was quite serious.
Olivia Mae jerked a few more flowers out of the ground, decided her bouquet was large enough and turned back toward the group of old folks enjoying the May afternoon. “Let’s just deal with this one week at a time. Take Jane somewhere that you like. It’ll help her to learn more about you.”
She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Pick her up at five thirty.”
She’d written Jane’s name, address and the number to the nearest phone shack. At the bottom she’d penciled in a list of things to remember and added a note that read “Girls love flowers.” It was what she did with every new match. Sometimes men needed a little prodding in the right direction. She had a feeling Noah Graber was going to require something much more obvious, like a good solid push.
* * *
Noah had thrown away Olivia Mae’s list. Who needed instructions on how to go on a date? He wasn’t a child. Noah had left home feeling confident that a relationship with Jane wouldn’t work, but for mysterious reasons, not because he was going to mess it up. He did not plan to sabotage this. In fact, he thought that he’d done everything right.
Maybe Olivia Mae didn’t know what she was doing, because he’d certainly met her expectations. He’d done it all except for the flowers, which, honestly, he had forgotten completely about.
Pick Jane up on Tuesday night—check.
Take Jane to his favorite place—check.
Don’t mention Jane’s height—check!
So why had the night felt like such a failure? Who was he kidding? It didn’t just feel like a failure, it was a failure. He could tell as much by the way that Jane had stopped attempting to make conversation and sat quietly in the buggy with her hands clutched in her lap. When he had pulled up to her parents’ house, she had murmured “good night” while still staring at her hands and literally fled inside without a backward glance.
He’d stewed over the situation while he was at work on Wednesday.
He’d vowed he wouldn’t think about it while he worked around the farm on Thursday.
But on Friday he couldn’t stand it any longer. This was Olivia Mae’s fault. Why did people think she was a wunderbaar matchmaker? She was terrible! She was probably too embarrassed to call him, so it was up to him to call her—or better yet, stop by after work and see her.
It occurred to him as he rode the bus back to Goshen that perhaps he was worrying for nothing. Just maybe Olivia Mae would be ready to admit defeat and call off the entire deal. He changed into his everyday clothes and hitched up the buggy. Maybe she was ready to surrender! That thought cheered him immensely as he drove the buggy toward her house.
Olivia Mae was in the pasture tending to her buggy horse when he arrived. Standing ten feet away, looking dolefully at what she was doing, was a brown jenny mule. Good thing he hadn’t bought her one of the donkeys at the auction.
He’d planned to start right in on discussing the date, but instead he asked, “Why the mule?”
Olivia Mae glanced up, then turned her attention back to the horse, brushing through its mane and stroking it with her other hand. “We only have the one horse.”
“So?”
“Horses are social animals. This one was showing signs of depression.”
“Horses get depressed?”
Instead of answering, she asked, “Are you sure you grew up Amish?”
He waved away her question. “That date you set me up on was a disaster.”
“So I heard.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Jane came by Wednesday morning.”
“And said what? I did everything that you told me to do.”
“Oh, really?” She pointed the currycomb at him. “You promised me you wouldn’t intentionally mess this up.”
“I didn’t.”
He jerked his straw hat off his head, slapped it against his leg and then put it back on.
“I did not intentionally mess anything up,” he said in a calmer voice. “Like every other date I’ve been on, it seemed to start out okay and then slid rapidly downhill.”
“Maybe we should talk about your dating history.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.” He walked away from her then, because he couldn’t stand the look of confusion on her face.
He didn’t want to explain about Cora or Samantha or Ida.
Three different women from three different states.
Three different relationships that he thought might have been the one.
Three different kinds of disaster.
He didn’t want to relive the humiliation and regret and guilt. He was home now and those experiences were behind him. All he wanted was a fresh start. All he wanted to do was be an auctioneer.
Of course, he had agreed to only three dates.
Maybe he was looking at this all wrong. Maybe he should be relieved the date with Jane was such a disaster. Two more nights of humiliation and his family would leave him alone. He’d be free to pursue his dream of being a successful auctioneer without wasting time and money on something that wasn’t ever going to happen. He could start searching for his bachelor pad. In fact, he should purchase a paper on the way home and scan the for-sale ads. The thought cheered him immensely.
He turned back toward the pasture, nearly plowed into Olivia Mae and took a step back. “Didn’t realize you were done with the horse.”
“Why don’t we go to the porch, have some lemonade and talk about this?”
He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of having an extended conversation about Tuesday night. Then again, the thought of sitting on the front porch with Olivia Mae sipping fresh lemonade didn’t sound terrible.
Glancing at her, he realized that she looked tired and a little defeated. Where was the spunky girl he’d met when he first brought over the letter box? Maybe the situation with her grandparents was difficult emotionally and physically. Maybe she needed to go out on a date—take a teaspoonful of her own medicine. The thought brought a smile to his lips, and then he remembered one of the jokes he’d memorized for her.
“Why was the sheep arrested on the freeway?”
“Oh, Noah...”
“Because she did a ewe-turn.”
She didn’t laugh out loud, but he thought maybe her shoulders looked less bunched up. That animal-joke book he’d bought in the gift shop next to the auction house was definitely worth what he’d paid for it.
Olivia Mae’s grandmother insisted on bringing them two large glasses of lemonade as well as a plate of cookies.
“Danki,” he said.
“Gem Gschehne.” She smiled broadly at him, the skin around her eyes folding into a patchwork of wrinkles. He could see the similarity then—between Olivia Mae and Rachel. Their eyes were shaped the same and they both had brilliant smiles. “I hope you’re enjoying Goshen.”
“Oh, ya. I like Goshen fine.” He almost added, “it’s the meddling I hate,” but since it was her granddaughter in charge of the meddling, that might sound a bit rude. So instead he raised the glass, sipped the cold drink and smacked his lips together. “Gut lemonade.”
“Olivia Mae made it. She’s a wunderbaar cook. You should try her fried chicken.”
“Actually I had some at the church luncheon.”
“And her pot roast is gut, too. Then there’s the cakes she bakes—”
“Stop talking about me as if I’m not sitting right here.” Olivia Mae nodded tow
ard the living room. “Danki for the drinks, Mammi. We don’t want to keep you from what you were doing.”
Instead of being offended, her mammi laughed and said, “That’s my signal to leave.”
When she’d gone inside, he noticed the melancholy expression return to Olivia Mae’s face. “Your mammi seems very nice.”
“She’s the best. Both her and Daddi are.”
Suddenly she wouldn’t look at him directly. Something was up, but he couldn’t imagine what it was. The older couple seemed healthy enough from what he’d seen of them on Sunday. Was there something she hadn’t shared yet? Why was she living here alone with her grandparents? And how hard was that?
Did Olivia Mae have trouble asking for help?
“Where do your parents live?”
“They died—ten years ago in a car accident.” She rubbed the heel of her palm against her chest, though she seemed unaware that she was doing it. “You hear how dangerous buggies are, but they were in a van that they’d hired to take them to see relatives in the southern part of the state. An oncoming vehicle crossed the line, pushing them into a concrete barrier. They were killed instantly.”
“I’m so sorry.” It sounded like a stupid thing to say, and he regretted it immediately.
“Their life was complete.”
She smoothed out the apron over her dress. It was a somber gray. He wondered why she always dressed like that. The blue sweater that Jane had worn on their date would have looked beautiful on Olivia Mae. Hadn’t Jane told her that Olivia Mae had made it? Yet her own clothing was always so...plain. He pushed the thought from his mind, choosing to focus on the beautiful May afternoon, the sheep in the pasture in front of them and the tart sweetness of the lemonade.
Olivia Mae had other ideas. “Let’s go back over what happened.”
“I don’t see how that will help.”
“When did you pick Jane up?”
“Before dinner, like you said. I guess it was...” He stared up at the roof of the porch. “Six, maybe six thirty. Could have been closer to seven.”
“We agreed on five thirty.”
“What difference does it make?”
“The difference it makes is that Jane was sitting on her front porch waiting for you for nearly an hour and a half. That’s a long time for her to wonder if you had perhaps changed your mind.”
“I would never do that.”
“Punctuality is a sign of respect.”
“Look, I would have been on time, but my dat insisted that I walk out with him to look at the fields. He’s clinging to the long-cherished idea that I’m going to wake up one day and have a sudden desire to take up farming. By the time we got back to the house, and I changed clothes and harnessed the horse, it was already six thirty. Then I lost the sheet with her directions and had to go back inside and ask my mamm for directions.”
“You could have told your dat that you had other plans and that you’d be happy to go with him in the fields another time.”
“I guess. In truth, it’s easier to tag along when he asks rather than argue with him.” He honestly did not see what the big deal was, and he said as much to Olivia Mae, but she started shaking her head before he was even finished.
“What time does your auction begin?”
“What?”
“Your auction. What time does it start?”
“What does that have to do with my dating?”
“Just humor me.”
“I had three on Monday and four on Wednesday. Today I had nine.” He couldn’t help feeling proud that the auction house was giving him more responsibility, and he was relieved that Olivia Mae had moved on to a different subject. Talking about work was easier than discussing his feelings about dating. “On Mondays my lots start at ten, two and four.”
“On the nose?”
“What? Ya. Of course. It would be unprofessional to start late.”
Instead of responding, she stared at him, eyebrows raised, like a schoolteacher who was waiting for him to catch on to a lesson.
He dropped his head into his hands and tried to replay her words in his mind. But instead of hearing what she’d said, he kept seeing her watching him, that small smile playing across her pink lips. Finally he glanced up and admitted, “I have no idea what point you’re trying to make.”
“Noah, think about it. You would never consider starting an auction late because it would be rude to the people coming to bid on the items.”
“Eventually they’d stop coming to my auctions, then I wouldn’t sell anything, and soon after that I’d be fired.”
“Exactly. In the same way it’s rude to show up an hour and a half late for a date.”
“But a date isn’t an auction.” He guzzled the rest of the lemonade and then growled, “Women are so different from men.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I wouldn’t care if my brother showed up late to go fishing.”
“Then perhaps women are different than men.”
She took another sip of the lemonade, and he suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss her.
Whoa.
Where had that come from?
She was the matchmaker, not the match.
“Why aren’t you married?”
“What?” Olivia Mae’s eyes widened.
“No offense, but if you’re so good at this, why aren’t you married yourself? Why haven’t you found your perfect match?”
“We’re not talking about me right now. We’re talking about you. Now, why did you take her to a gas station for dinner?”
“It wasn’t a gas station! Well, I mean they do sell gas, but they also have a wunderbaar barbecue place on the side. It’s this little trailer, and there are wooden benches set up on the concrete pad—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Most women don’t enjoy eating at an establishment that sells fuel—”
“What does that have to do with the price of oats?”
“They want a nice dinner out or a romantic picnic.”
“A romantic picnic?” He snorted. “How is eating in a park on a blanket romantic? At least we had an actual table to sit at.”
“Let’s move on.”
“Ya. Let’s.”
“Apparently you talked to her about your auctioneering. You talked about that a lot, but you never asked her a single question about what she does during the day.”
“Did she write you a report and hand it to you?”
“Don’t get defensive.”
“Of course I’m defensive. I didn’t ask Jane any questions because I didn’t want to seem nosy.”
“When you ask questions about someone, you’re showing an interest in them, not being nosy.”
Noah slammed his cup of lemonade down on the table, grateful that neither was made of glass, and jumped up out of the rocker. He walked over to the porch railing, attempted a few shoulder rolls to loosen the knots in his muscles and tried to figure out how to call off this entire fiasco.
Why had he ever made such a stupid agreement with his mother? And how was he going to endure two more nights of humiliation? But it was only two nights.
Only two more women who would most certainly reject him.
So instead of explaining how unreasonable she was being, he turned to Olivia Mae with a smile pasted on his face. Leaning against the railing, he jerked off his hat, crossed his arms and said, “Okay. Be on time. No gas station. Ask questions. Got it. When do I take her out again?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jane...doesn’t think that you’re compatible.”
“How can she know that after one date?” He felt his cheeks burning and knew that he was blushing. He rammed the hat back on his head, hoping that Olivia Mae wouldn’t notice. “How am I supposed to
get better at this if she won’t give me another chance?”
“We try with someone else.”
“The chubby...er, wait. Don’t give me that lecture again. The other girl that you were sitting with at our church meeting?”
“Her name is Francine, and yes—that is who I had in mind.”
Noah ran his hand over his face. Two more dates, and he would have fulfilled his half of the bargain. “Okay. I’m in.”
“Tomorrow night.”
“That soon?”
“Sure. I don’t want you to have time to forget what you learned.”
He wouldn’t forget, but he also knew it wouldn’t matter.
She pulled another sheet of paper from her pocket. It looked just like the first one she’d given him. Same precise handwriting. Same list. Same smiley face at the bottom. What grown-up put a smiley face on the bottom of a note? It didn’t matter. He didn’t even need her instructions, but he stared at the paper, folded it up neatly and stuck it in his pocket all the same.
If Olivia Mae understood what she was up against, how many times he’d crashed and burned in the dating arena, she would surrender now. But she was as stubborn as he was, and he could tell by the look on her face that she would see this through to the bitter end.
He forced his voice to be pleasant. No use letting her see how crazy she was making him. “Fine.”
“Really?”
“Sure. You’re the matchmaker.”
He walked back to his buggy whistling. Something would go wrong tomorrow night. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Then Olivia Mae would search around for one more poor girl to throw his way, and he’d mess that up, too. This entire foolish plan to find him a wife would be over by the following week.
As he drove away, he glanced back and saw Olivia Mae standing on the porch, watching his buggy...or maybe watching him. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell her the truth—that Jane seemed like a nice young girl, but a girl. Why didn’t anyone seem to realize he was nearly thirty years old? He didn’t want to date someone who was barely out of their rumspringa.
A Perfect Amish Match Page 6
