A Perfect Amish Match. Vannetta Chapman

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      “I don’t remember seeing you at church.”

      “We didn’t meet this past week, and I only moved back the Wednesday before that.”

      “And already working at the auction house?”

      “Ya. It’s the reason I moved here. They needed another auctioneer so I thought I’d come back home.”

      Olivia Mae searched his eyes for a moment, long enough that he began to squirm again. There was something he wasn’t saying, but she had no reason to press him. As he’d pointed out, he wasn’t interested in being matched and beyond that she was simply being nosy.

      “Welcome to Goshen, then, though it sounds as if you grew up here.”

      “I did.”

      “If it’s been more than a few years, I expect it’s changed a bit since then.”

      “Yes and no.”

      A man of few words. Yes, he would match perfectly with Jane Bontrager. She was a real chatterbox, which would balance them out. She was tall, too—not as tall as Noah Graber, but tall enough that he wouldn’t feel awkward. Was that why he’d never married? Did he tower over every woman he met?

      He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if the entire conversation was painful to him. “Some things always stay the same—especially in Amish communities.”

      “Yes. I suppose so.” She smiled, stood and said, “Danki very much for bringing this out to me.”

      Noah seemed to realize he was being dismissed. He nodded once and headed down the porch steps when there was a clatter of dishes inside the house.

      Olivia Mae was already moving toward the door.

      A woman shouted, and then a man hollered something in return.

      “Do you need help?”

      “Nein. We’re fine.” Which was categorically not true, but she wasn’t about to reveal as much to a man she barely knew, and one that probably wouldn’t last in town long enough to see the summer flowers.

      She hurried inside, allowing the screen door to bang shut behind her. Matchmaking was good and fine, but it was what she did to relax. Her priority was the two dear old people who now looked up at her in surprise—as if she’d popped in from thin air.

      “I’ve got that, Mammi.”

      “Turned my back on him for one minute...” Mammi had a dish towel and was attempting to clean up the coffee that had spilled on his shirt. The mug sat on the floor next to Daddi’s chair.

      Olivia Mae went for the broom and dustpan. She returned to the sitting room and began sweeping up shattered pieces of a small dish on the opposite side of the room, where it had apparently been flung.

      Mammi continued to blot at the coffee stains, but Daddi was having none of it. He captured her hands in one of his, which were still strong—they were the same hands that had felled trees and planted fields and carved Olivia Mae’s letter box. “Don’t bother me with that, Rachel. Did you see the size of that hog? Nearly knocked over my chair trying to get at your peanut-butter squares.”

      Olivia Mae and Mammi shared a look, but neither corrected him. They’d learned long ago that doing so only made matters worse.

      * * *

      Noah spent most of the drive home wondering if he should have gone back up the porch steps to make sure everyone was all right. As he’d walked away, he had distinctly heard an old man’s shouting. Olivia Mae had clearly not wanted help—she’d practically slammed the screen door shut without a single look back.

      His mood jostled between concern for this woman he didn’t know, aggravation at his brother and curiosity over what was in the box. She had barely glanced at the top sheet, though plainly she’d recognized it instantly.

      Noah was twenty-nine years old, and it wasn’t lost on him that all the fine women—women like Olivia Mae Miller—were taken. No doubt her husband had been out in the fields or in the barn with the animals, though he had wondered at the absence of children. Most Amish households had a whole passel.

      She had struck him as quintessentially Amish. Thick brown hair pulled back under her kapp, with just enough showing that he’d been sure to notice how it was shot through with blond. Simple Amish frock covered with a clean apron. Brown eyes that seemed to be both laughing and taking in everything at the same time. She reminded him of a teacher he’d had his last year of school—she’d been young and seemed impossibly beautiful and even then he couldn’t understand why she was teaching.

      That was it. She’d reminded him of a teacher, and he’d felt like a schoolboy squirming under her gaze.

      Teacher! Ha. Perhaps she read romance books when she wasn’t tending to her children. That would explain her fascination with true love. He’d nearly laughed at her, but stopped when he saw the serious look on her face. She was a believer—no doubt about that. Why shouldn’t she be? For Olivia Mae life had turned out the way it was supposed to. For him? Not so much. His mind threatened to turn toward his past failed relationships, but he shook his head and focused on the scene in front of him instead.

      He pulled into his parents’ farm, which was one of the larger properties in Goshen. It wasn’t that they were wealthy, but with seven boys, his dat had made it a priority to purchase any adjacent property as it became available. The result was that they owned close to three hundred acres, which was enough for four farms. Three of his brothers had built adjacent homes, two had moved to nearby counties and one had taken over the family place.

      As for Noah, he had no intention of being a farmer.

      He’d found his passion, and it was in the auction house.

      He directed the buggy horse into the barn and jumped down from the seat as his two younger brothers emerged from the back stalls.

      “Managed to miss most of the work,” Samuel said, a smile playing across his lips. Samuel was the youngest of the boys. He’d inherited their mamm’s blond hair as well as her shape—short and stocky.

      Justin was also short, though thin like Noah. He leaned against a bale of hay as Noah removed the harness from the buggy mare.

      “How was Olivia Mae?”

      “You sent me to a matchmaker? Really?”

      Justin held up his hands in innocence, and Samuel began to laugh. “Can’t blame us for trying.”

      “A matchmaker?”

      “You’re the one who wanted to return the box. You could have left it at the office, and they would have mailed it to her.”

      “I thought I was doing the neighborly thing. Instead I walked into a trap.”

      “A trap?”

      “Mamm probably put you up to it.”

      “Now you’re being paranoid. Mamm didn’t even СКАЧАТЬ