Chapter One
Kent County, Delaware
Spring
“What do you mean you won’t marry me?” Thomas’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the young woman beside him. “Don’t we go together like ham and cabbage? Bacon and eggs? Hasn’t everyone been waiting for us to announce the wedding date?”
Ellie grimaced. “I’m sorry, Thomas. Truly I am.” She sounded contrite.
He set her books onto the trunk of a fallen apple tree and they tumbled onto the grass. “You should be sorry,” he said. “It’s not easy for a fellow to propose to a girl. And when I do, you turn me down? It’s humiliating.”
It was late afternoon and the dirt path that ran from the Seven Poplars schoolhouse where Ellie taught, to Sara Yoder’s place, where she lived, was deserted except for the two of them. The path crossed several Amish farms and this section wound through an apple orchard. The trees were bursting with new leaves and just beginning to bud from the branches on either side of the rutted lane. The only sounds, other than the thud of Thomas’s accelerated heartbeat, were the buzzing of bees and the scolding song of a wren.
He scowled down at Ellie. “Why don’t you want to marry me?”
“I should have never let it get this far.” She looked up at him, her hands clasped together. “I knew we weren’t meant to wed. But I like you and you’re so much fun.”
“I think you are, too. Isn’t that enough? That we genuinely like each other and always have a good laugh?”
She shook her head sadly. “Ne, Thomas, it isn’t enough for me.”
In frustration, he yanked off his broad-brimmed hat and threw it on top of the scattered books. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to be my wife.”
“I never said that, Thomas.”
He scowled.
She picked up his hat, brushed the leaves off it and handed it back to him. “I care for you, Thomas, but I don’t want to have your babies, and I can’t see us growing old together. We talked about this months ago. Remember?” Her blue eyes clouded with emotion.
“Ya, but I thought...” What did he think? She’d told him last fall that he needed to start walking out with other girls, but he hadn’t, and the next thing he knew he and Ellie were running around together again.
“We’re not a good match, Thomas. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll agree. I think what we have is...” Her brow furrowed as she seemed to search for the right word. “A convenient friendship.”
“Convenient?” Needing to look her in the eye, he caught her around the waist and lifted her so that her small feet, clad in black leather lace-up sneakers, balanced on the fallen tree trunk. Ellie was a little person, and when she stood beside him, the top of her snowy-white prayer kapp barely reached the middle of his chest. After their first meeting he’d never thought of her as small, or different than any of the other girls he had walked out with. Ellie cast a big shadow.
Ellie’s eyes registered a sharp warning. Putting his hands on her in such a familiar way was inappropriate, and they both knew it. At the moment, he was too upset to care.
A knot tightened in his throat. “Ellie, I don’t understand,” he said. “A convenient relationship? What’s that supposed to mean?”
His face must have shown how hurt he was because her features softened. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said convenient,” she answered. “But you know exactly what I’m talking about. You and I run around together because it’s easy. It’s comfortable. But we’re not in love with each other and you know it.” With a sigh, she fixed him with a penetrating look. “Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and hear what I’m saying. It’s for the best for both of us.” She waited a moment, then added, “You know I’m right.”
He glanced away, not ready to concede, no matter how right she was. He looked back at her and she offered a faint smile.
“Who told you to propose to me?” she asked him.
Flushing, Thomas felt a rush of guilt. She knew him so well. “My mother.”
“Exactly.” Ellie’s eyes narrowed, making him feel as if he was one of her students who’d been caught staring out the schoolroom window instead of attending to his math.
“And what did your mam say?” Ellie demanded as she folded her arms. “Exactly.”
He exhaled. “That it was time I had a family of my own.” He ground the toe of his work boot into the soft grass. “That you were a sensible young woman who would keep me in line, and I was foolish if I didn’t pop the question before someone else did.”
“Do those seem like good reasons?”
He gripped his hat so hard that the brim crushed between his fingers. He was devastated...sort of. “But we get along so well,” he hedged. “And everyone says—”
“That because we have fun together, we should spend the rest of our lives as husband and wife?” She shook her head. “Not good enough. Not for me. Not for you.” She was quiet for a moment and then went on. “And the truth is, Thomas, you’re relieved. I can see it in your face. You weren’t all that eager to tie the knot with me, no matter what your mother or anyone else said. Were you?” she pressed.
He wanted to protest, but Ellie was right. He was more surprised and embarrassed than brokenhearted. And he did feel a sense of faint but unmistakable relief. “No chance you’ll reconsider?” he asked lamely.
She shook her head, took hold of his hand and jumped down onto the lane. “I’m not the special one for you, Thomas. If I was, you’d know it.”
“You think?” He sank down on the log. “I’m not so sure. I’ve dated practically every unmarried Amish girl in the county and a lot of girls from other places. My buddies all found someone they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with, but not me...” He looked at her. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I’m not meant to be married and have a family.”
“Nonsense.” Ellie picked up her books and brushed off the bits of grass that clung to the covers. “Your mother’s right about one thing. It is time you married. Past time. I think your problem is that you don’t know how to find the right woman. You’re looking for the wrong things. You’re looking at the wrong things, mostly pretty faces. Married life isn’t just about fun and sweet smiles, Thomas.”
“Now you definitely sound like my mother.” He dropped his hat onto his lap, leaned forward and buried his fingers in his hair. The way Ellie put it, it made him sound shallow. And maybe there was some truth to the accusation. He’d been attracted to Ellie because of her cute figure, her pretty face and her sparkling personality. He liked pretty girls. And he liked to have fun. Was that so wrong?
“I sound like your mother because she’s right. I’m right,” Ellie insisted. “You want a wife and a family, don’t you? You want to father children and live our faith?”
“Of course. I just don’t—” He sighed. “I guess I don’t know how to find that.”
“Exactly. So what I’m thinking is that you need some help.” She poked him with her finger. “You need someone to make a good match for you. You can’t just look for a pretty face. You have to look deeper than that and find what’s important in a partner. You need the matchmaker’s help. You need Sara Yoder.”
“You think I need a matchmaker?” he scoffed, meeting her gaze.
“Why not?” Ellie shrugged. “She’s very good at it and it’s not as though you’re a hopeless case. You have a lot to offer a woman. You have a trade—two trades, if you count blacksmithing.”
He frowned. “I’m a terrible blacksmith.”
“Okay, but you’re a decent rough carpenter. And you know something about farming. You have that promise of land from your grandfather, and you own a horse and buggy.” She studied him carefully. “And you have a good heart and a strong back,” she allowed. “You’ve never been afraid of hard work.”
He flashed her a grin, recovering some of his equilibrium. “Not to mention that girls think I’m handsome.”
“Humph.” She puckered her lips. “Prideful, the bishop would say. And a show-off.”
“I am not,” he protested, rising to his feet.
“Red and blue blinking lights on your buggy?” She shook her head and sighed. “Thomas, I’m serious. You need to talk to Sara.”
He thought for a minute. It had never occurred to him to hire the services of the local matchmaker. He’d always thought matchmakers were for people who couldn’t get a date. That certainly didn’t apply to him. He’d walked out with more girls in the last ten years than he could count. But Ellie was a sensible woman. Probably the most sensible he’d ever known. He knew he’d do well to take her advice. “Do you really think Sara could help me find a wife?”
“Absolutely. But pray on it. With your history, even Sara Yoder will need all the help she can get.”
* * *
“Why do I think the two of you invited me here for something other than my rhubarb pie recipe?” Sara Yoder asked as she took a chair at Hannah’s kitchen table. Hannah, her dearest friend as well as a cousin, had sent one of her grandsons with a note to ask if she could come over at four.
Since the weather was pleasant and the two houses were less than a mile apart, Sara had walked. She liked being active. She was usually up by six and going until long after the sun had set. Not that it had done much for her figure. Despite her busy lifestyle, she remained hearty. She supposed it was partly that she loved to eat and partly because her mother had been substantial in size.
At the back door, Hannah’s widowed daughter, Leah, recently returned from a long stay in South America, had taken Sara’s denim coat and black outer bonnet and given her a big hug. Sara hadn’t gotten a chance to get to know Leah yet, and she was pleased that she was there this afternoon.
“I’m so glad you could come,” Hannah exclaimed as she dropped into a seat across from Sara. “We’ve been making vegetable soup and canning it. Cleaning out the cellar. Soon enough we’ll have fresh vegetables again and I never like to save canned goods from one year to the next. I have a couple of quarts of soup for you. Too many to carry, but Leah can drive you home.”
Leah wasn’t Amish anymore, although in her plain blue dress and navy wool scarf she appeared so. When she’d married Daniel Brown several years earlier, she’d joined the Mennonite church. The Mennonites, close in belief to the Amish, were not as strict in daily lifestyle and permitted motor vehicles. Sara assumed that the small black automobile in the yard was Leah’s.
Smiling, Leah brought a pitcher of cream and an old pewter bowl filled with raw sugar to the table. “Tea is such a treat,” she said, joining them and pouring the first cup of tea for Sara. “I can’t get enough of it. They have wonderful coffee in Brazil, but it was impossible to find decent tea.”
All of Hannah’s daughters were known for their liveliness and independence, but Leah was the one who residents of Seven Poplars saw as the most independent. After her marriage, Leah had left Delaware to follow her new husband to do missionary work among the indigenous people of the Amazon. There, in an isolated outpost, the young couple had operated a school, a store and a basic medical clinic. Then tragedy had struck. Leah had lost both her husband and her child to a deadly fever. Unwilling to leave her adopted community in need, Leah had remained more than a year until another team could be sent as replacements. Now, she’d returned to her childhood home to pick up the pieces of her life.
Leah might have been the rebel of the Yoder girls but, of all of Hannah’s daughters, she was certainly the prettiest, Sara decided, looking across the table at her. Her red hair, blue eyes and flawless complexion made her a real beauty, more attractive even than Violet Hershberger, who was considered the cutest and most eligible girl in the county. But Leah’s almond-shaped eyes held a depth of sorrow that gave her a fragility of spirit not evident in Violet or any of the other young women in the county. Leah seemed cheerful and strong enough physically. She laughed as readily as her sisters, but Sara could sense a vulnerability in Leah that tugged at her heart. It was obvious that she was still in pain from her loss, but Sara could see that she was making an effort to be a part of the world again. And she seemed to be succeeding.
Sara considered herself a sensible woman, one not easily swayed from the right path by emotion or hasty decisions. But she couldn’t deny that she felt drawn to this girl and felt an instant desire to do whatever she could to help her. “It was nice of you to invite me for tea, but did you ask me here for the reason I suspect?” Sara asked.
Leah smiled and her cheeks blushed. “I think it’s time I wed again and my family’s in agreement.”
“I’m glad you called on me, then. I’ve brokered a few Mennonite marriages, though you may have to be patient with me while I talk with some friends at the local church.”
“Actually,” Hannah said. “Leah has decided—” She broke off abruptly as her youngest daughter, Susanna, came into the kitchen with a basket of clothing she must have just taken in off the clothesline. Susanna had been born with Down syndrome and she and her husband David, also mentally challenged, made their home with Hannah and her husband Albert.
“The wind is picking up, isn’t it?” Sara said to Susanna. She could smell the wholesome scents of sunshine and spring breezes on the clothes the young woman carried in the basket.
Susanna, red cheeked and beaming, nodded. “Ya. Almost blew me over.”
“Ach, Susanna. You’re about to lose your scarf.” Hannah rose and went to her daughter, untied the navy cotton scarf and retied it in place over her daughter’s braided and pinned up auburn hair.
“Danki, Mam.” Susanna giggled, her round face creasing into folds of pleasure. “As soon as I...” Susanna’s forehead crinkled as she struggled to find the right words and pronounce them correctly. “Fold the sheets,” she managed. “David’s gonna show me new kittens in the loft. He said ‘Susanna, you help name them.’” She nodded excitedly. “They need names!”
“That sounds wonderful,” Sara exclaimed, and then waited for Susanna to take her leave. Sara didn’t need to be reminded not to speak of matchmaking business in front of Hannah’s youngest. As delightful as Susanna was, whatever she heard, she repeated. It was impossible for Susanna to keep a secret. Arranged marriages were confidential between the candidates and the matchmaker, not food for neighborhood gossip.
Hannah took the laundry basket from her daughter. “Would you like me to help you fold? We’ll take these sheets upstairs and put them away and then you can go and see the kittens.”
“Ya, Mam.” Susanna giggled again. “I’m gonna see the new kittens. We’re gonna name them, me and David. I love David.”
Hannah smiled lovingly. “I know you do. Now come along.”
Leah waited until her mother and sister were out of the room before adding more tea to Hannah’s cup and her own. Then she took her cup in both hands, gazed down into the swirling liquid and said, “I want to marry again, Cousin Sara.” She sighed. “It’s been more than a year since I lost my Daniel and our little one and...I’m the kind of person who needs to be married. It’s what God has always wanted for me.” Her eyes teared up. “I want a husband and children.” She looked up, unashamed of her tears. “Can you help me find a husband?”
Sara leaned forward. “Of course. As I started to say, my contacts among the Mennonite faith are not as extensive as—”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Leah interrupted. “I didn’t make myself clear. I mean to return to the Amish church. I became Mennonite for Daniel, as was right. I believe it was God’s plan for me at the time. And now, I think He means for me to accept the Amish way of life again.”
Sara reached for a sugar cookie on a blue-and-white plate. “I assume you’ve considered this carefully? You’ve lived with many conveniences since your marriage. Are you sure that you can live Plain, as you did as a child?”
Leah didn’t answer at once, and Sara liked that. This was no flighty young woman who chose first one path and then another on a whim. Sara nibbled at the cookie and sipped her tea.
“I’ve thought of little else since I left Brazil,” Leah said finally. She offered a half smile. “I loved my husband. I’ve mourned him with all my heart. I think I will grieve for him until my last breath, even though I know he’s in heaven. Grieve for myself, I suppose. But ours was a good marriage, a strong one, and I want that again. I’m young enough to bear more children, as many as God will send me, and to marry again just seems...right.”
“Children are our greatest blessing,” Sara said. She had never been fortunate enough to have a child, but she had loved many children and hoped to love more. Why God chose to not give some women children—or to take them away—she would never understand. “The ways of the Lord are often a mystery to us, aren’t they?” she murmured.
“Ya,” Leah agreed. “I thought I would lose my mind in those first months after I lost them. I know I shed enough tears to raise the level of the Amazon River, but, fortunately, I had our work. We had a small school and Daniel’s clinic. He had been a nurse and I learned so much from him working at his side. After he was gone, there was no one else to help and I had to make do.” She looked up and Sara gazed into the depths of those cornflower-blue eyes. “I delivered babies, sewed up knife wounds and set broken arms and legs. I was too busy to think much about what I wanted for myself when I could come home.”
“But you knew that you wanted to come home to Seven Poplars?” Sara asked.
Leah nibbled absently at a knuckle. Her hands were slender, her nails clean and filed. They were strong hands to go with her strong spirit, Sara thought.
“There was no question of my staying in Brazil as a woman alone. I wouldn’t even have remained there as long as I did, but there was unrest. Trouble between the lumber contractors and the native people. And there were floods. They were so bad that our clinic was cut off from the nearest town for quite some time. It wasn’t safe for a new team to come in. It was a blessing, really. I had a chance to say my goodbyes and see the school and clinic put in good hands before I left.” Leah shook her head. “But I won’t bore you with my memories. If you think you can help me, then I want to tell you what I require in a husband.”
“I could never be bored with tales of your experiences in Brazil,” Sara assured her. “But it would be helpful if you tell me what your expectations are in a husband.”
Leah steepled her hands and leaned forward on the kitchen table. “First, he must be Amish, of strong faith and respected in the community. I would prefer a mature man, a middle-aged widower, someone who may already have children. How old doesn’t matter, so long as he isn’t too old to father children.”
Sara pressed her lips together to keep from smiling inappropriately. This adventurous child of her cousin was certainly outspoken. Whether it was her nature or a trait she’d picked up in her travels, Sara wasn’t certain. It was all she could do to not show her amusement. “You’re still a young woman,” she said. “Not yet thirty. Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer a younger bachelor?”
“Ne. I’m sure of it,” Leah said firmly. “I’ve been the wife of a young man. I married for love. I’ll never have that again, and I know that. I’m a realistic woman, Cousin Sara. I know that affection and respect may lead to a different type of love someday.” She met Sara’s gaze. “I want someone different for a second husband, someone I’ll not ever compare to my Daniel.”
Sara nodded thoughtfully, and while she didn’t know that she was in agreement, she certainly understood what Leah was saying. “Do you have a choice of occupations?” she asked. “Farmer? Carpenter?”
“It matters not. I’m used to making do with few material goods. I ask only for a husband who isn’t lazy and will be a good example for our children. He must know how much I want more children.” Leah’s voice took on a breathy tone. “I could not bear it if I never rocked another baby in my arms or woke to see my precious child’s shining face beaming in wonder at the new day.” She inhaled deeply. “So you see, it might be best if my husband-to-be already has children. I can adapt to any personality, but he must be someone who will welcome children and not treat them harshly.”
“Or treat you harshly,” Sara suggested.
Leah shrugged. “I can accept whatever the Lord sends me. I’ll be a good and dutiful wife, so long as he knows that my children must come first. My Daniel was an indulgent father. He adored our...” Tears glistened in her eyes again. She looked down, took a moment, then looked up at Sara again. “I want to be sure I’m being clear, Cousin Sara. What I want is a marriage of convenience, a union entered into for the purpose of forming a solid family. I’m not afraid of hard work, and I’ll be the best wife and helpmate I can. But I need a sensible man, a practical man who doesn’t expect more than I can give.” She hesitated. “Because part of me died in Brazil, Sara. All I can do is go on with what I have left.”
“You don’t believe in the possibility of a second love?” Sara asked gently. “Not when you see how happy your mother is with Albert, after the death of your father?”
“I’m not my mother,” Leah replied, sitting back in her chair. “I honor her, and I love her, but we are not the same. She and my father had many years together and time to form many memories. Daniel and I... It went by so quickly. Too quickly.”
Sara considered the young widow’s words. “Wouldn’t your Daniel want you to be happy?”
“Of course.” Leah smiled through the tears. “But I know myself. I know what I want. Offer me no lighthearted, carefree noodle-heads. I’m seeking a sober and steady husband, one with gray in his hair, who knows what it is to suffer loss. Can you find me such a man?”
Sara reached across the table and took Leah’s hands in hers. “I will do my best to find what you need in a husband. But you must remember, I can’t promise you children or happiness. We are all in God’s grace and we cannot see the path He plans for us.”
“I understand,” Leah agreed. She squeezed Sara’s hands and then pulled free. “And I was hoping that you would have room for me at your house. Where I could stay.”
“Certainly,” Sara agreed, genuinely surprised by the request. “But what about your mother? Surely, Hannah must want you here with her.”
“I don’t think that would be best,” Leah said firmly. “You know my mother. She’d want to put her spoon in my soup pot. I love this house and I love my family. But I’m not ready to fall into the habit of being a dutiful child again. You know exactly what I mean. I’m sure you’ve seen it before. A young widow returns home to her parents’ house and the next thing you know, twenty-five years have passed and her mother is still cooking her supper and hanging out her laundry. No. I’ll come to your home and put myself in your capable hands.”
She rose and picked up her teacup to carry to the sink. “Find me a husband, Cousin Sara.”
Copyright © 2017 by Emma Miller