The Matchmaker (18 page)
“Let me guess,” Emma said sweetly as she set her basket on the table and began to unload the goodies that she had brought with her for the two women. “Another letter from your dear niece, Jane?”
It was part of their routine. Every Thursday when she visited, Emma was subjected to listening to Hetty read and sometimes reread letters from Jane. And every week Emma smiled politely, commenting on one or two lines from the
missive, knowing that to talk about Jane gave Hetty such great joy, despite the fact that Emma found most of Jane’s letters one thing and one thing only: dull.
“A letter!” Hetty giggled and clapped her hands in delight, more childlike in her response than Emma found pleasing. “A letter,
Maem
. Emma asked if we received a letter!” Clearly Hetty was delighted with whatever her surprise was, a surprise that Emma was beginning to dislike before she even knew what it was. “
Nee
,
nee
, Emma. It’s better than a letter!”
“Well do tell, Hetty,” Emma coaxed, starting to feel irritated, as she was still unhappily digesting Sarah Esh’s news. “Surprises are meant to be shared at some point, otherwise there is no point in having them, is there?”
Grabbing Emma’s arm, Hetty led her through the kitchen and into the small sitting room that was down a narrow hallway. “Come see for yourself what surprise we have for you. And, oh, I just know you will be delighted, delighted, delighted!” She clucked her tongue happily.
No sooner had they walked through the doorway and into the sitting room than Emma’s eyes fell upon a young woman. She sat straight and proper in the ladder back chair with her legs crossed at the ankle and tucked under her skirt. She was darker skinned, clearly from having worked outside in the fields or gardens. Yet she was fresh and pretty, with bright brown eyes that sparkled and plump lips that smiled ever so slightly. There was something familiar about the woman, but Emma knew that she had never seen her before this day.
“I don’t believe we have met,” Emma said politely, stepping forward with an outstretched hand to greet the pretty young woman. “I’m Emma Weaver.”
The woman smiled, again just a hint of an upturning of her lips. “We have met, but it has been many years,” the
woman said, her voice soft and gentle with just the faint touch of a different accent.
And at that moment Emma knew.
“Jane?”
Hetty giggled and clapped her hands. “I knew you’d recognize her! I knew you’d know Jane, even after all of these years!” She turned to call out to her mother. “Didn’t I tell you,
Maem
?” She didn’t wait for an answer, for her
maem
didn’t even appear to be listening, but turned back to Emma. “I told her! I said that if anyone would recognize our dear Jane, it would be our Emma! Oh, for sure and certain!”
If she felt humiliated and dismayed at having heard that Paul Esh’s declarations of admiration for her had already been brushed away by taking an unplanned trip to Ohio in search of a substitute
fraa
, Emma’s heart jumped further in her throat at the realization that the beloved Jane, the one with a perpetual aura of goodness, grace, and perfection, the one that Hetty constantly talked about, was finally sitting before her, grown up and proper, with an air of godliness about her that Emma found overly powerful. This was Jane? Twelve years ago she had left a mere child, and now she returned as a woman who clearly had just as much confidence as she did beauty.
Masking her surprise, Emma was quick to take ahold of Jane’s hands and give them a warm squeeze. “This is such a
gut
surprise, indeed!” she managed to say, doing her best to sound genuinely pleased. It wasn’t easy and she worried that her voice sounded strained. “Your
aendi
has been so kind as to share your letters with us each week. Why, I feel as though we are the best of friends already!”
Jane smiled in response but did not speak.
“From the last letter, there wasn’t any mention that you
were planning a trip to Lititz!” Emma forced her own smile onto her face, a bit puzzled by the reserved nature of the woman before her. While they were the exact same age, Jane seemed years older and much more formal in her demeanor. Emma wondered whether or not that was a trait of the
g’may
in Ohio where Jane had been raised. “Had you planned this visit for long, then?”
“A van was coming from Ohio and I wanted to surprise my
aendi
and
grossmammi
,” she explained. It was a simple explanation that did not directly answer Emma’s question.
Emma glanced at Hetty, observing the joyous delight on the older woman’s face. Indeed, she couldn’t remember a time when Hetty looked so happy. “Well, I do think you have achieved just that!”
After introducing Jane to Hannah, Hetty encouraged the three young women to sit down and visit. For a few awkward moments, they sat in the small sitting room, uncertain of what to say. Hetty took the liberty of telling the story of Jane’s arrival, how she had simply appeared at the door, and oh, wasn’t this reunion delightful? Then, in a burst of nervous energy, Hetty began to fuss over Jane, worrying that she was hungry. When Jane did not immediately reply, Hetty quickly excused herself, stating that she needed to fetch a tray of freshly baked cookies and lemonade from the kitchen.
Eager to leave the room, for she needed a moment to collect her thoughts from this second surprise, Emma had offered to assist her in the kitchen, but Hetty flatly refused any help. It was clear that Hetty was in her glory and wanted nothing more than to take care of Jane and their two visitors. It was also clear that today would not be a short visit.
Hetty had no sooner left the room when an awkward
silence fell over the three young women. The only noise came from the clock hanging on the wall, the gentle ticking sounding loud as it echoed in the room. Emma quickly realized that any conversation would depend on her taking the initiative. Hannah was too shy and Jane, apparently, was overly quiet.
“It has been so long since you left Lancaster for Ohio,” Emma began, searching for something to say . . . anything! “I reckon you don’t remember much, but, of what you do, does it seem much different?”
“Different and the same,” Jane responded vaguely, a hint of a polite smile on her lips. “But delightful, nonetheless.”
Emma fought the urge to frown, not understanding the response that Jane had provided. Just as before, when she responded to questions, she provided no real answers. In fact, her responses made it impossible to converse, something that did not sit well with Emma.
Determined to probe further, Emma asked, “And when, exactly, did you arrive?”
“Just yesterday evening,” Jane responded.
Hetty reentered the room, the tray in her hands as she padded across the floor to set it down on the table by the sofa. “You’ll never believe this, Emma.” Hetty gave a delighted laugh, pausing to push her glasses back from the tip of her nose. “Guess who she drove all the way from Ohio to Lititz with?”
Another surprise?
Emma thought that she surely could not stand another one. “Why, I’m sure I couldn’t do any such thing!” she managed to say. “Do share!”
Jane smiled and looked down at the floor while Hetty handed a glass of lemonade to Emma. “Would you believe if I told you that she rode with Francis Wagler!” she said with
another amused laugh. “Can you imagine? How unusual and wonderful! Both Francis and Jane returning to Lititz and in the same van!”
At this news, Emma lifted an eyebrow. Francis wasn’t due for a visit for another week, according to what Samuel had told her
daed
on Monday. “That
is
rather unusual!” With a curious look upon her face, she turned to Jane. “I hadn’t realized that you knew Francis!”
Again, there was no immediate response from Jane.
Hetty, however, quickly jumped in. “Oh, I’m sure not,” she said excitedly. “Francis was in a different
g’may
, after all. Farther away. Why, during all my visits out to Ohio to see my dear Jane, I never once bumped into him.” She turned to her
maem.
“Isn’t that right,
Maem
? We never once saw Francis Wagler in Ohio.” A pause. “Francis! Ohio!” she repeated loudly before returning her attention back to her three young guests. “And there she sits! Jane has come to visit us at last!”
“What a joyous homecoming! Surprises abound for us all!” Emma lifted her voice, forcing it to sound more cheerful than she really felt. Once again Hetty giggled in delight, and even Hannah smiled at the older woman’s happiness. Emma went on: “And you rode all that way with Francis? Why, do tell! What sort of person is Francis Wagler? We are all most curious!”
As if curious about Emma’s question, Jane tilted her head. “He’s a fine, godly man, I presume. I found no reason to think otherwise.”
“Is he agreeable then?”
“Why, no more so than anyone else, I reckon.”
Emma frowned. How many hours in the van must they have spent together, and all that Jane could say was that he
was no more agreeable than anyone else? “Did you have an interesting conversation, then?”
A simple shrug of her slender shoulders accompanied yet another vague reply. “As interesting as one could expect from spending six hours in the company of another person while traveling in the same vehicle.”
Emma suppressed a sigh. She felt as though she were attempting to milk a dry cow, trying to get answers out of Jane. Yet no matter what question she asked of the young woman, her response provided absolutely no useful information. Immediately Emma knew that she did not care for this young woman who appeared far too proper and much too vague to satisfy her need for information.
Emma spent the rest of the visit smiling and adding an occasional “Oh my!” in response to Hetty’s continual stream of discourse, most of it flattering Jane in one way or the other. Ever so discreetly her eye monitored the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes until she could risk excusing herself to return home without a chance of offending Hetty, her
maem
, or Jane. Furthermore, the realization that she would have to spend much of the next day with all three of the women at the applesauce canning caused a queasy feeling in her stomach. How on earth would she be able to survive such a day subjected to Hetty’s chatty tongue and Jane’s evasive and practically silent demeanor?
T
HE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON
Emma returned home later than anticipated from the applesauce canning at the Blanks. It had been almost one o’clock when she left, and she took advantage of the mobility that having the buggy provided to stop at the natural food store, which was only a mile out of her way. She needed to replenish some of the staples in her pantry, and the stop would save her a trip on the following day. More importantly, with such a hectic and emotional week behind her, she was looking forward to a quiet Saturday at home. She needed the time to relax, reflect, and recuperate.
As expected, the applesauce canning was a long, drawn-out affair. While there were several young women there, including her friend Rachel, and many of the older women from the neighborhood who should have distracted her and kept her entertained, it became evident that this was not to be. The conversation, which usually would have delighted Emma, focused on two things and two things only: Francis Wagler’s return to Lititz and Jane’s surprise visit from Holmes County. Neither topic interested Emma and, with Jane’s continued ability to respond to questions without
actually responding, Emma quickly lost the inclination to even pretend an interest in the discussions.
After peeling and coring dozens of apples, and being forced to listen to Hetty’s endless prattle about Jane—almost as if Jane were not sitting there to engage in the conversation herself, something she apparently rarely did—Emma was more than ready to leave when the last jar of applesauce was sealed in the water bath canner and the small kitchen was cleaned. Hetty had wanted her to stay and sit for a while, perhaps have some coffee and a piece of cake that she had prepared the previous day for her guests. Emma, however, had no intentions of staying even one minute longer. With feigned regret, she made her apologies for not being able to linger.
