The Matchmaker (11 page)
Reluctantly Paul agreed, but only after Emma insisted again, and without waiting for another word, jumped out of the carriage. She waved good-bye to them both and hurried down the road in the direction they had just come. She glanced over her shoulder only once, smiling when she saw Paul continue driving the horse along the road to his aunt Sarah’s house.
A little time alone
, Emma pondered,
will do the two much-needed good.
The time spent walking alone did not bother her in the least. She would appreciate the exercise anyway. Indeed, she rather enjoyed it, for a warm feeling of delight washed over her as she dreamed of an upcoming wedding of Hannah Souder to Paul Esh.
As she was walking toward Katie Miller’s house, Emma thought of Hannah’s previous words: “If you are so against marriage it’s a wonder why you would push such unions on others.” And then it struck her: if she had so vehemently refuted her friend’s allegations, she pondered, why would Hannah’s potential nuptials with Paul Esh so vividly permeate her imagination? Why did she enjoy the idea of others being wed, while she would not even entertain the thought of putting herself in a similar situation?
Was she becoming, after all, a matchmaker? In her culture these things were better left to the Almighty. Overt matchmaking was
not
the way of the Amish, but certainly nudges here or there in the right direction couldn’t hurt.
W
ITH THE
KINNER
running through the house, and run they could, the noise level was greater than normal. Emma, having a hard time keeping her countenance, found herself more than once laughing at the antics of her young nieces and nephews. Her usually quiet kitchen had become a lively playground this Saturday morning, chock-full of little voices, rowdy laughter, and the sounds of bare feet padding across the freshly washed and waxed linoleum floor. There was a warmth in the air that didn’t come from the outdoors but from within the heart.
“May I hold the baby again, if you don’t mind?”
Her older sister gratefully handed her infant son to Emma. While she didn’t say so, she clearly looked relieved to have a break from holding the baby. “He’s still sleeping, but if you hold him, I can see to the bread.”
“You always did make the best wheat bread,” Emma complimented her sister as she carefully took baby George in her arms. “
Daed
still compares my loaves to yours, can you believe!” She laughed, nonplussed that her own baking skills did not measure up to Irene’s. “He’ll be ever so glad to have yours on hand for a while. I’m both grateful and eager to be able to freeze a few loaves to hold him over.”
With the oven door open, the enticing fragrance of warm dough permeated the room. To Emma, freshly baked bread was the most welcoming smell in any Amish kitchen. Irene poked at the loaves. Deciding that they were finished, she reached for a potholder and began to pull out the pans.
“Is he still on that whole-wheat kick, then?” she asked, setting the metal bread pans on a rusty cooling rack.
“Oh, that and more!” her sister replied. She pretended to scowl as she teased, “Don’t dare mention a word about cookies or cake in his presence. You’ll get an earful of rantings, for sure and certain, about the evils of sugar!” Still laughing, Emma cradled the baby gently in her arms. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. A whiff of lavender caressed her nose and she smiled. “I just love how babies smell, don’t you?”
Irene didn’t have a chance to answer as her two older sons ran down the stairs, pushing and shoving at each other to see who could beat the other to the kitchen. “Henry and John Junior!” she scolded. “No running in the house!”
Neither boy seemed to hear her as they raced through the kitchen, almost knocking over their younger sisters who were playing with some blocks on the kitchen floor.
“Such energy,” Emma laughed as the boys burst through the door and bounced down the steps to play in the front yard.
Irene smoothed down the front of her black apron and sighed. To Emma, her older sister looked worn out and tired. With dark circles under her eyes and graying hair, she had aged tremendously since giving birth to her fifth child just four months prior. “Energy that is wasted on the young, I fear.”
“Oh, Irene!” Emma frowned at her sister’s lament. While
Emma always tended to err on the side of positive thinking and rainbows, her older sister, like their father, had always been one to look at the dark side of things. During their growing-up years Emma had excused the difference in their perspectives with the fact that Irene had felt the loss of their
maem
more than she had. But if Emma had hoped that marriage and a family of her own would replace her sister’s clouds with sunshine, she had been sorely mistaken. “You just need the baby to be a little more independent and then you’ll regain your energy, I’m sure.”
Irene responded with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “
Mayhaps
. Or
mayhaps
I need Lizzie and little Emma to be older to help more. They’re too young still to do much more than get underfoot.” Using mismatched potholders, Irene began to remove the still-hot bread from their pans. She lined them up on the rack and set the pans in the sink to be washed later. Satisfied, she admired the six loaves. “Just about perfect,” she whispered. “John will be most pleased.”
“Where are the men anyway?”
Irene and her husband, John, had arrived earlier in the day, eager to visit with Emma and
Daed
before heading back to their own farm. Yet, upon arriving at the Weavers’ house, John had disappeared with his father-in-law outside and they had yet to return. Neither woman minded, for it had provided them time to catch up and visit before the other guests arrived.
It was close to eleven o’clock when a buggy pulled into the driveway. Glancing out the window, Irene peered around the property before spotting the men standing on the far side of the small horse barn. “Gideon’s arrived.”
Emma remained unusually silent.
“I think he’s brought your friend with him,” Irene said, turning back to look at Emma.
This brightened Emma’s mood. She had asked Hannah to join the Weaver gathering, despite Henry’s private grumbling about not wanting to share his precious, limited time with Irene with anyone outside of the family.
When Hannah entered the kitchen, Emma was quick to properly introduce her friend to her sister before inquiring about the circumstances of her arrival in Gideon’s buggy.
“Oh, that?” Hannah laughed. “He came upon me walking the road and stopped to offer a ride. I must admit that it was appreciated.” She fanned at her neck. “It’s warm walking in the sun!”
Chewing on her lower lip, Emma glanced over her friend’s shoulder. “Where is Gideon, anyway?”
“Gideon?” Hannah set down her purse on the floor next to the counter. “I think he went with your
daed
and another man behind the barn.”
Emma groaned. “Oh, help, I know what that’s about, for sure and certain!” She didn’t wait for either Hannah or her sister to ask before she answered the unspoken question. “Gardening for next year. I just know it.
Daed
’s so worried about us not having fresh vegetables now that Anna isn’t here. She did the gardening, remember?” With a frustrated sigh, Emma sank down onto the sofa, the baby still cradled in her arms. “I reckon he’ll be expecting me to manage the garden, then!”
Gardening was the last thing on Emma’s list of favorite things to do. Between the dry, dusty feeling of dirt on her hands and the warm sun heating up her back, there was very little about gardening that she found appealing. She much
preferred working indoors, keeping an orderly house and working on her quilts.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to garden a bit,” Irene offered gently. “I feel so close to God when I’m working outdoors. How will you ever feed your own family, Emma?”
“Family?” Her eyes grew large and she stared at Irene, an expression of disbelief on her face. “
Daed
is my family and we are getting on just fine,
danke
!”
“One of these days—”
Emma interrupted her sister, refusing to let Irene finish the sentence. Undoubtedly it would lead to the same topic: marriage and motherhood. “
Nee
, Irene. You know that I’m quite content with my independence.” She ignored a look from Hannah, who was clearly amused. Irene, however, frowned. She was always dismayed at Emma’s avoidance of courting, never mind her determination to remain single forever!
To avoid the topic, Emma glanced down at the sleeping infant in her arms. “I’ll leave mothering and nurturing to those who do it so much better than I ever could. Like you!” She said the last part with kindness, knowing full well that her sister had always wanted a large family, even if she was currently experiencing days of weariness and feelings of being overworked.
The table was set for the noon meal when the men returned to the kitchen. Emma noticed that Gideon made a great effort to avoid making eye contact with her. For a moment she watched him with curiosity, realizing that he was still upset with her about what she had come to call “the Ralph Martin and Hannah situation.” With a slight roll of her eyes, she shifted the baby in her arms and pretended to not be offended by his silence. Instead, she watched as he
played with the two older boys while Irene put the food on the table.
His patience with his nephews impressed her, especially given that he was an old
buwe
with little or no experience with
kinner
. His face lit up when the young boys clambered around him, asking him to toss them into the air. This he did with great delight, despite Henry’s dismay that one of his grandsons might get injured.
When the two boys finally settled down at the urging of their
maem
, they begged Gideon to share stories about their
daed
when he was their age. Gideon was only too willing to oblige, much to his
bruder
, John’s, dismay.
“Not the story about the loose cow, please,” John mumbled to Gideon, which only caused young Henry and John Junior to beg to hear the story about how their
daed
had let a cow escape the dairy rather than milk it at chore time.
Listening to Gideon tell the story, Emma found herself smiling.
What a right
gut daed
he would have made
, she thought.
With lunch on the table, Irene called everyone to be seated. Henry assumed his position at the head of the table, and after he cleared his throat ever so slightly, everyone bowed their heads to say the silent blessing over the prepared food. When Henry shifted his weight, the subtle sign that prayer was over, a new round of activity resumed. Plates of bread and bowls of steaming vegetables were passed around the table, the adults helping to serve the younger children so that food was not spilled upon the fresh tablecloth.
Henry opened up the conversation. “Gideon offered to plow the old garden patch, Emma,” he said as he reached for the boiled potatoes. “Fresh vegetables next year will keep us all healthy. I’m not too keen on those store-bought foods,
you know. Those
Englische
use chemicals that are certainly killing us!”
Exasperated, Emma rolled her eyes.
Not one to be discouraged, he pointed his fork at Emma. “It’s true! And all those sweets with refined sugar!” Clicking his tongue in disgust, he shook his head and turned his attention to Irene. “You best be using only that organic sugar.”
“I am,
Daed
.”
Emma caught Irene’s eye when her
daed
wasn’t looking and mouthed the words
I told you so
. Both women suppressed their amusement and bent their heads down, choking back laughter by avoiding each other’s gaze. Even Hannah joined in, familiar by now with Henry’s concern for proper eating habits and good nutrition.
Indeed, Henry’s concern was not a new one. His reputation among the
g’may
included more than just his being a godly man with a fierce sense of piety. He was also known to fret about just about anything and everything under the sun. As he continued to lecture Irene about what was permissible to feed his grandchildren, Emma caught a smile sneaking on Gideon’s face. When he glanced up and saw that he had been discovered, the smile turned into a grin and she too found herself smiling back.
