A Perfect Amish Match (Indiana Amish Brides Book 3)

by Vannetta Chapman

  He wanted to date someone who had a little experience in life, who understood that there was more to a person than the condition of their buggy or whether they arrived on time or not. He wanted to date someone who wasn’t out looking for love but was involved in their own life—caring for others, pursuing their dreams, content whether they found a spouse or not.

  What he wanted was to date someone like Olivia Mae.

  Ha. Not likely. She could give sage advice, but didn’t seem to be interested in following it.

  Nein. Dating Olivia Mae wasn’t going to happen.

  She hadn’t shown the least bit of interest in him—other than as a puzzle she needed to solve.

  Still, he warmed up to the idea as he drove home. Someone like Olivia Mae was what would suit him best. He knew it—felt it in his heart. Didn’t he feel more comfortable with her? And they had things to talk about. He didn’t have to have a list of topics penned on his palm like he’d done the other night.

  Olivia Mae was more his style.

  Perhaps he should ask if she had a twin sister hiding somewhere.

  Chapter Six

  Olivia Mae knew that Jane had already spoken with Francine about Noah. She could have left her a message at the phone shack telling her about the date she’d set up for her with Noah. Somehow a phone message seemed too impersonal, though, plus there was the fact that it was happening in a few hours. They’d talked about the possibility, but Olivia Mae had promised to get back to her with the exact details. She wanted a chance to meet with Francine and answer any questions. It wouldn’t hurt to calm her nerves a bit. So she’d left a message saying she’d like to see her the next morning, and they’d decided on a girls’ trip to town.

  They were at the thrift store in Goshen as soon as it opened Saturday morning. This particular store supported Habitat for Humanity, which Olivia Mae had heard a lot of good things about. The person who had told her about their work building houses for those in need was an older man who worked for Mennonite Disaster Services. Olivia Mae had once thought about going on MDS missions herself, but now with her grandparents’ health worsening every day that wasn’t going to happen.

  Mammi had warned her earlier that morning about traveling alone to Goshen even though they lived in Goshen. She’d acted as if their farm was miles and miles away from anyone else. She’d acted as if they lived in the old days, when the Plain community was small and folks lived farther apart.

  And as Olivia Mae had walked out the front door, Rachel had reminded her to stop at the apothecary for her herbs. Apothecary? Had they ever had one of those? Was her mammi losing it completely? Or was she simply confused? Maybe she’d even been misheard. Regardless, Olivia Mae didn’t think that she’d be going on an MDS mission any time soon.

  She caught up with Francine, who was looking for anything that she could cut up for quilt squares. She loved making salvage or, the more popular term, scrappy quilts. She would purchase curtains, sheets, even old clothes to cut into squares and triangles. Francine was an excellent quilter. Olivia Mae preferred to knit. She liked visiting thrift stores because she could sometimes find sweaters for a quarter, frog the yarn, wash it and make something brand-new.

  “Frog?” Francine asked. “What does that even mean?”

  “It’s the sound you make when you—you know. Rip the yarn out.”

  Francine began to giggle, and Olivia Mae was reminded of Noah’s silly sheep jokes. In one way, those terrible jokes proved that he had a caring personality—at least he seemed to care about making her laugh. She thought he was probably a very kind person, only nervous when it came to women. She remembered his red ears the night before and how he’d tried to cover them with his hat. Nervous and easily embarrassed—both qualities that she thought were endearing in a man.

  The question was whether Francine would feel the same way.

  They finished pawing through the bins, paid for their purchases and walked out into a perfect May afternoon.

  “Let’s sit for a minute—if you have time.”

  “Sure.” Francine plopped onto the wooden bench, dropped her bags near her feet and turned toward Olivia Mae. “I guess you want to give me some tips, so my evening with Noah doesn’t end in disaster like Jane’s did.”

  “She told you about that?”

  “Described every agonizing moment.”

  Olivia Mae fought to hold in a sigh and failed. “Perhaps it’s best if you just forget all of that and give Noah a chance.”

  “Oh, I plan to. I don’t care if we eat at a gas station.”

  “You won’t be.”

  “Or even if he’s late. What’s the big deal?”

  Maybe Francine was a better match, or maybe she was simply trying very hard to appear to be.

  “It’s okay to expect someone to be on time, you know.”

  “Ya, I know.” She fiddled with the strings of her prayer kapp and stared out at the passing traffic—cars, horses pulling buggies and folks riding bicycles.

  Goshen had certainly grown, even in the few years since Olivia Mae had moved there. Mammi’s earlier comments about the apothecary pushed into her mind, twisting her heart, but she shook her head and focused on Francine.

  “I don’t even mind listening to details about the auction. Anything different from the same old thoughts circling through my mind would be gut.”

  Francine lived with her bruder and his family. It was a crowded home with nine children. She’d confessed to Olivia Mae that often she retreated into her own thoughts, completely unaware of what was going on around her. It was a form of self-preservation, according to Francine. Otherwise the sheer number of children in the house would overwhelm her.

  She also struggled with diabetes, which she’d been diagnosed with as a young teenager. It was hard to avoid carbohydrates in an Amish home, especially one full of children. Francine was very serious about her health, especially since she had an overactive sweet tooth. The two challenges—a love for sweets and diabetes—were a constant battle for her. Living in a houseful of children only made that worse.

  Olivia Mae knew there were plenty of families with more than ten children, but she suspected that it was easier if you added one at a time. Francine had moved from another state to be with her bruder. Her family had hoped it would increase her dating prospects. So far, it hadn’t done much more than cause Francine to question whether she ever wanted to have children. She’d once confessed she didn’t want to take care of another thing—person, pet or plant.

  “Jane is thinking of writing to Elijah,” Francine said.

  “What?”

  “Ya.”

  “She told you that?”

  “She did.” Francine glanced at Olivia Mae and then back at the street. “She said that the date with Noah opened her eyes. She doesn’t need a perfect man, but she does need someone who is interested in her. That was her exact word—interested.”

  “Whatever does that mean? Of course Noah was interested. He’s just out of practice as far as relating to women.”

  Francine was tapping her fingertips against her lips, as if she wasn’t sure she should say what she wanted to say. Finally she shrugged and looked directly at Olivia Mae. “Jane said he wasn’t interested and that she could tell. He was, you know...only going through the motions.”

  “She said that?”

  “I know what she means.” Francine sighed and rubbed at her elbow. She’d admitted the previous week that the hand-quilting tended to cause the joints in her right arm to ache. “My bruder set me up with one of his buddies once—this was before I knew you. It didn’t go well, and it left me feeling like a shelter dog that no one wanted. He never looked directly at me, and it seemed he couldn’t get me home quickly enough.”

  Just when Olivia Mae thought she knew all that these young girls had been through, she unpeeled another layer. “I’m sorry that happened to y
ou, but Noah isn’t like that. He’s just shy, and he doesn’t think there’s anyone out there for him. It’s not that he’s uninterested, he’s simply not a believer in romantic love.”

  When Francine didn’t respond, she said, “Do you think Jane will do it? Write Elijah?”

  “She might. She told me that she realizes it doesn’t matter what he does for a living—that details like that will work themselves out. What matters is how they feel about one another, and she’s beginning to realize how much she did care for him.” She pulled more tightly on her kapp strings. “And before you say that she’s confusing loneliness for affection, I think she might be right.”

  Olivia Mae sighed and stood up, gathering up the two paper bags full of sweaters she’d purchased. It would be enough yarn to last her at least a month.

  “What do you think?” Francine asked.

  “I think our Jane is growing up, and I think you need to head home so you’ll be ready for your date with Noah.”

  * * *

  Olivia Mae expected to go home and spend the afternoon worrying over Noah’s date, but she never had the chance. She pulled into the yard and saw Mammi pacing on the front porch.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s your daddi.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know where he is.”

  “Tell me what happened.” She clasped her mammi’s hand in hers. They were cold, and it was obvious she’d been crying. “Why don’t you sit down, here in the rocker. Take a deep breath. It’s going to be all right.”

  When Mammi didn’t answer, she reached out and tucked her hand under the dear woman’s chin, forcing her to look up. “Do you believe me?”

  “I suppose.” The answer was a whisper, a prayer.

  “Gut. Now tell me what happened.”

  “He was napping, in his chair. I thought I had enough time before he woke, so I went outside to work in the garden. When I came back inside, he was gone.”

  “And you’ve looked in the barn?”

  “Ya.”

  “And the pasture?”

  “Ya, of course. I thought of running to the phone shack, but then... Well, what if he came back and no one was here and he got scared?”

  “It’s okay, Mammi. You did the right thing to wait here.”

  “I did?”

  “Ya.”

  Mammi closed her eyes, clasped her hands and began to silently pray. Olivia Mae knew that was what she was doing because her breathing evened out and she slowly began to put the rocking chair into motion, plus she’d seen her do that very thing a hundred times before—maybe a thousand times. And wasn’t prayer what they needed at a time like this? Surely Gotte would help them to find Daddi. She added her own prayers to her grandmother’s, and then she turned toward the still-harnessed horse. That wouldn’t work, though, because Daddi probably would not stick to the road. He’d wandered off before and it was always across a pasture, as he would forget where their land ended and another farm began.

  Olivia Mae reached out and covered Mammi’s hands with her own. “I’m going to the barn.”

  Mammi’s eyes popped open. “But the horse and buggy are right here.”

  “I need to take my bike. Can you unhitch Zeus?”

  “Of course.”

  “Just leave the buggy here. I’ll put it up later, and if you open the pasture gate, Zeus will follow you in.”

  “I know how to pasture the horse.”

  And there was a small miracle, because she could see in her grandmother’s face that she did remember how and would be able to do it. The confusion of the morning and the panic of a few moments ago had both passed.

  Olivia Mae broke into a run. The last thing she wanted to do was explain to Mammi that she didn’t think Daddi would stay on the road. She’d be better off with the bicycle. She’d start at his favorite fishing spot—though he hadn’t fished in over a year—then work her way around to the neighbors. If she didn’t find him by dark, she’d call Lucas.

  She prayed that wouldn’t happen.

  She prayed that Daddi was all right, that he’d simply sat down somewhere and was resting.

  She prayed that she wasn’t too late.

  * * *

  Noah thought that he’d done better.

  He’d picked up a couple of cans of soda, some fried chicken, a bag of chips and a package of cookies while he was in town running errands for his mamm. Olivia Mae might be right about some things, but he thought she was wrong about choosing restaurants. Who wanted to eat in a noisy restaurant on a Saturday? The weather was beautiful, and Olivia Mae had mentioned romantic picnics in an offhand way. No doubt she thought that was beyond him, but the bag of groceries behind his seat proved she was wrong.

  He arrived twenty minutes early, which for some reason seemed to fluster Francine.

  Then he drove her to the park, which was where the trouble began.

  “This is where we’re eating?”

  “Ya. I thought it would be nice to enjoy the beautiful weather.”

  The park was full of children of all ages, plus quite a few dogs. It looked to him like everyone was having a good time, and he silently congratulated himself on having such a good idea. Hopefully the natural setting would help them relax around one another.

  “Where are we going to sit?”

  He’d thought there would be picnic tables, but there weren’t. He glanced into the back seat of the buggy and spied his old horse blanket. It would do.

  He handed her the bag of groceries, then fastened the mare to the buggy post and went to the back seat to pull out the blanket. They walked down to the pond and he shook the dirt from the blanket, then laid it on the ground.

  Francine had eyed the blanket suspiciously, but she sat down without comment. When he began pulling out their food, her eyes grew rounder.

  “This is what we’re eating?”

  “Ya. Fried chicken is gut, and who doesn’t like chips and cookies?”

  “Oh.” She seemed to think about that for a minute. Finally she shrugged and asked, “Do you have plates or silverware?”

  “Don’t need it, not really.” He popped the top on a can of soda and handed it to her. She stared at the drink as if it was a snake, then set it down in the grass and said, “I’m not very hungry, but danki.”

  He had asked her about her day, and paid attention when she described her quilting. He learned what a scrappy quilt was, and how salvage quilting was a type of recycling, and even that nine squares in a certain order made it a nine-patch. He felt Francine was a virtual encyclopedia of quilting terms, and he was a student trying to catch up.

  But the problems cropped up pretty quickly. They seemed to be opposites. He sensed it almost immediately, and he thought she did, too.

  Francine couldn’t wait to put Goshen behind her. Noah was glad to be home.

  Francine was pretty sure she didn’t want any children, or at least not very many. Noah had always imagined himself with a houseful of kids—when he imagined himself as anything other than an old crotchety bachelor.

  Francine jumped if any of the dogs came near them. Noah thought he wouldn’t mind having one when he bought his own place.

  Worse yet—she didn’t like his jokes. She had stared at him when he’d shared one about pigs.

  What do you call a pig with no legs?

  A ground-hog.

  Hilarious!

  But Francine only chewed on her thumbnail and glanced away.

  He was going to say, “Even Olivia Mae would have laughed at that one,” but at the last second decided to keep that comment to himself.

  Then the mosquitos attacked. He slapped one that was feasting on her arm and left a trail of blood. “Guess that one already got you.”

  “Ya. I guess it did.” She looked around for a napk
in to wipe off her arm, but he didn’t have any. She’d settled for a corner of the horse blanket, which left a red rash on her arm.

  But the biggest blunder of the evening had come when he took her home. He parked at the corner of the house, where the light from the living room couldn’t reach them. It wasn’t quite dark, but the sun was setting. Now, this was what Olivia Mae would call a romantic moment, or so he thought. Then he’d turned to Francine, removed his hat and leaned forward and kissed her.

  His timing couldn’t have been worse.

  She’d turned away as he was making his move.

  The result was that he smacked her on the ear with his lips, which startled Francine so that she let out a squeal. Then what looked like twin boys popped up in front of his buggy and began making smooching sounds.

  Francine had screamed at the boys in such a way that it had surprised Noah. After all, they were only boys being boys. Then she had started to cry, and he hadn’t known what to do so he’d patted her shoulder and said, “There, there.”

  He’d never heard those words from someone under sixty. He couldn’t believe they came out of his mouth.

  Francine had scrubbed at her eyes, proclaimed, “I hate it here,” and jumped out of the buggy.

  He didn’t know what had caused her to run off.

  His kiss?

  The boys?

  His ineffectual attempt to comfort her?

  Dating was simply too hard.

  And demeaning. It was definitely demeaning. He felt like a fish out of water. He felt like he had to be someone else, only he didn’t know who that someone else was.

  By the time he’d driven home, unhitched the buggy and pastured the horse, night had settled across the fields. For that he was glad. Maybe he wouldn’t have to answer the fifty questions that had greeted him after his date with Jane.

  But his father was sitting on the porch, rocking as he clamped a rarely lit pipe between his teeth.

  Noah tried murmuring good-night and slipping by, but his father called him back. He motioned to the chair beside him and said, “Your mamm is glad you’re back with us, Noah. We all are.”