An Unlikely Amish Match. Vannetta Chapman

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      Susannah wasn’t going to bring up the subject of their new neighbor to her parents. She actually was trying to forget him. She liked her life exactly as it was. The last thing she needed was trouble living next door, and Micah Fisher definitely looked like trouble.

      They’d paused to bless the food and had just begun passing around the dishes of ham casserole, fresh bread, carrots and salad when Sharon starting chatting away about their encounter with Micah.

      “He’s tall and he talks funny.”

      “He wears a crazy hat,” Shiloh added.

      “And he wanted to shake Susannah’s hand, but she didn’t want to.”

      “And he said we were pretty—he said we were all pretty.” Shiloh pulled in her bottom lip as she concentrated on cutting up her ham into small bites.

      Her dat helped Sharon to scoop a spoonful of carrots onto her plate. “John mentioned to me that the boy was coming to stay with them for a while.”

      “He hardly seems like a boy.” Susannah felt a slow blush creep up her neck when both her parents turned to stare at her. “What I mean is that he seemed to act like a youngie, though plainly he was older—I’d guess around twenty.”

      She could tell that her explanation hadn’t cleared up anything, so she backed up and told them of seeing him in town, of the truck and the trash and the Englisch clothes. She didn’t bring up the cell phone. That felt like tattling. No doubt his grandparents, and her dat, would know about it soon enough.

      “Not everyone is as settled as you are, dear. I believe Gotte used your illness to mature you.” Her mamm buttered a piece of bread—hot, fresh and savory. Perhaps homemade was better.

      “And hopefully to make you even more compassionate toward others.” Her dat’s smile softened his words. “No doubt Micah is trying to find his way as many of our youth are—though, as you say, he’s hardly a youngie anymore. Just turned twenty-five, if I remember correctly from what John said.”

      “The same as you.” Her mother looked pleased, as if sharing the same age would make them best pals.

      Susannah didn’t think that was likely.

      Her life had finally settled down. She had no desire to complicate it with the likes of Micah.

      The rest of the meal passed in a flurry of conversation. Sharon chattered on about the kittens in the barn and how she was planning to name each one. Shiloh had read another of the picture books from the library, and she insisted on describing it in great detail. Her mamm reminded Susannah that church would be at the Kings’ on Sunday, and that they had agreed to go over and help Mose prepare on Saturday. And her dat described a young mare that had been brought in for shoeing. “Four white socks and a patch on her forehead—pretty thing.”

      Susannah heard the conversations going on around her, but her mind kept volleying between the log-cabin quilt she’d started the day before and the new neighbor next door.

      She didn’t want a new neighbor.

      Why couldn’t things stay as they were?

      She couldn’t have explained what made her think so, but somehow she was certain that the comfortable rhythm of their days was about to change.

      And then, as if to confirm her thoughts, her dat said, “Oh, I forgot to mention that Micah is going to be working in my shop a couple hours each afternoon. Perhaps we can have him over for dinner sometime.”

      The smile on her mamm’s face told Susannah there was no use arguing with that.

      Well, she’d just have to endure Micah’s presence though she did not and would not approve of his Englisch ways.

      Her dat had said he was staying awhile.

      Micah had mentioned a few months.

      Surely it couldn’t be for a terribly long time. He wasn’t moving in, and he hadn’t been carrying any luggage, just the denim backpack. With any luck, he’d be gone by the first day of summer.

      As was his habit, her dat took the twins out with him to do a final check of the animals. Susannah and her mother were cleaning the dishes when the conversation returned to Micah.

      “Do you think you might like him?”

      “Oh, I’m pretty sure we’re polar opposites.”

      “Not always a bad thing.”

      “It’s not going to happen, Mamm.” The words came out more harshly than she’d intended. “We’ve spoken of this. I don’t believe... That is, I’m sure what you’re thinking of isn’t Gotte’s plan for me.”

      “You mean marrying.”

      “Ya. I mean marrying.”

      “Because of your cancer—which is gone.”

      “Gone, yes, but it could come back, and more than that, the whole experience has left me changed.”

      “In more ways than one.” Her mamm turned to study her though her hands remained in the sudsy water. “You’ve turned into a fine young woman, Susannah—a godly woman.”

      “You’re changing the subject. Any man—any Amish man—would want a houseful of children.” Susannah refused to meet her mother’s gaze. Instead, she focused on the plate she was drying.

      “Just because Samuel felt that way doesn’t mean every man feels the same.”

      “We both know that Samuel and I were...mismatched. His breaking up with me, it was hard, but I felt immediately better once it was done.”

      “But...”

      “But I learned, Mamm. I learned that men have certain expectations from marriage.”

      Why was it that speaking of this always brought tears to her eyes? She’d grown accustomed to the facts—to the limitations—of her life, but it seemed as if a certain part of her heart remained bruised. “How does the proverb go? ‘No woman can be happy with less than seven to cook for’? I suspect no Amish man can be happy with less than seven to provide for.”

      “Children СКАЧАТЬ