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Sara smiled at Thomas as they shook hands across her desk. “So we’re in agreement. I’ll make you a match. Keep an open mind, and I’m sure I can find someone who will suit you and your family.”
It had been more than a week since Sara’s barn social. Thomas had spent days wrestling with the idea of asking for help in finding a wife. He’d prayed on it, and he’d considered asking the bishop to add his name to the upcoming classes in preparation for baptism in the fall. But he hadn’t been ready to take that step yet. One obstacle at a time. Maybe finding the right girl would erase the last doubts he had about a Plain life. As much as his parents wanted him to join the faith, they wanted it for the right reasons. It had to wholeheartedly be his choice, not someone else’s. The Old Order Amish lifestyle was a lifetime commitment, one you were supposed to enter with joy.
Tonight, he’d come after supper, as Sara had asked. He hoped that he wouldn’t run into Ellie or Leah. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed about using a matchmaker. It was more that a man’s personal business ought to be private. And what could be more personal than choosing a wife?
Thomas hadn’t mentioned to Sara that his grandfather was threatening to leave the farm to someone else. The possibility of losing the farm hurt, but if Thomas hadn’t thought that maybe his grandfather was right, he would never have agreed to make an official agreement with the matchmaker.
He started to rise from his chair, but Sara waved him back into his seat. They were in her office in her home, a spacious room with comfortable furniture, deep window seats and a colorful braid rug.
“Don’t go yet,” she said. “I have a fresh pot of coffee and a blueberry pie that’s just begging to be sliced.” She made a few more notations on the yellow legal-sized notepad and tucked the sheet into a manila folder.
“How long do you think it will take?” Thomas asked. He rested his straw hat on one knee and looked at her.
“Slicing the pie or finding you a wife?”
He grimaced, still not entirely convinced this whole matchmaker thing was a good idea. “Finding somebody for me.”
“Actually, I already have someone in mind.”
“Not that Hazel girl you introduced me to the other night,” he protested. “I didn’t care for her at all.”
She chuckled. “Not Hazel. Funny you should mention her, though. She and Fred Petersheim hit it off. It seems he didn’t care for my potato salad either.”
Thomas laughed. “I thought it was great.”
“I’m pleased. Now,” she said, rising, “you make yourself at ease. I won’t be a moment. How is it you like your coffee?”
“Sugar and milk. Two sugars.”
“You like it sweet.”
“Ya, I do. I could come out in the kitchen with you,” he suggested. “No need for you to—”
“No. Stay where you are, Thomas.” She walked from the room, closing the door behind her.
Thomas tapped the heel of one boot nervously. He glanced around the room. The pale blue walls were hung with cross-stitch family trees and several large calendars. One showed a farmer plowing with a six-horse team against a rural background. Another showed a mare and newborn foal, the little filly tentatively trying out her new legs in tall clover.
In one corner of the room stood a battered green filing cabinet. He wondered if there was a manila folder in one of the drawers that would hold his future. It was exciting and a little frightening to put his life in Sara’s hands. He was tempted to wander over and take a peek. He wasn’t normally a snoop, but if he just—
The door opened and Thomas turned his head to see not Sara but Leah. She was carrying a tray with slices of pie and three cups of coffee. “Oh!” he said. “You startled me.” He rose and hurried to take the tray, realizing that although he’d hoped they wouldn’t run into each other this evening, he was pleased to see her.
“Sara asked me to bring this in,” Leah explained with a smile. “She said she’ll just be a minute.” He put the tray on the desk, and she took a seat opposite him and motioned to the coffee. “Please, go ahead. It’s nice and hot.”
He noticed that she was wearing glasses. He didn’t think that she had worn them at the barn frolic. But they did nothing to hide the intelligent sparkle of her bright blue eyes. Leah should have been as plain as a barnyard dove in her worn gray dress, apron and headscarf, but red-gold tendrils of hair framed her heart-shaped face, and merry dimples gave her a mischievous appearance.
He wondered if Sara could find him someone like Leah. But maybe not so pretty, he thought. Ellie had warned him that he needed to look beyond an attractive face and neat figure.
A minute or two passed. Leah cupped her coffee mug in her hands and inhaled the steam. She didn’t speak, and Thomas realized that the silence between them wasn’t awkward. Rather, he found it peaceful. Most girls he knew liked to fill every second with chatter.
He tasted his own coffee. It was good. He would have to ask Sara what brand it was. His mother was an excellent cook, but her coffee left something to be desired. It was either too weak or something. It never tasted as good as Sara’s. This was hearty, with a brisk, bright flavor.
“I guess it was quiet in the jungle,” he remarked. “No traffic, not many people.”
Leah smiled and shook her head. “Not noisy like here in the States, but certainly not quiet. There were so many insects, buzzing, flapping, whirring. For the first month I was there, I found it hard to sleep. And the monkeys? Some kinds scream, others howl. They all chatter nonstop. And sometimes you’d hear a deep rumble, like a cough in the night. Iago said that when I heard that noise, I should stay inside the house or clinic hut because it was a leopard and I would make a fine meal for a big cat.”
Thomas gave her a sharp look. “A leopard? Did you ever see one?”
“No, but Iago said that they came to our side of the river in the rainy season. One had killed a child from the nearest village two years earlier. He wasn’t given to tall tales, so I believed him.” She rested her mug on the wooden arm of her chair. “You would think him odd if you saw him. He wasn’t as tall as me; he had a potbelly, and his hair was cut like a cap just below his ears. Even though he was a great-grandfather, his hair was still as black as soot and coarse as a horse’s mane. Iago’s tattooed face was wizened like a winter apple and his legs were bowed, but he was stronger than you can imagine. He was my dearest friend other than my Daniel, and I shall never forget him. Iago taught me so much about life. It was his wisdom and patience that made it possible for us to live and work among the St. Joes.”
“I would like to have met your Iago,” Thomas said.
“You would have liked him. He told such stories that I could listen all day.”
“He spoke English?”
Leah chuckled and shook her head. “Only a little. His granddaughter translated for me, and Iago was a fine actor. He used such expressions and hand movements that it was easy to follow.”
“Who was easy to follow?” Sara asked as she entered the room.
Thomas stood. “Leah was telling me about some of her adventures in Brazil. It seems she was nearly eaten by a leopard.”
“I didn’t say that.” Leah laughed.
Sara took her place behind her desk and helped herself to a slice of pie. “Mmm. Coffee’s still hot. Good.” She motioned to the other plates of pie. “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s for eating, not looking.”
Thomas took a plate and handed it to Leah.
“I should leave you two alone,” Leah said, rising, her plate in her hand. “If you and Thomas have business.”
“We do.” Sara wiped a drop of coffee from her lip. “And so do you and I.” She glanced from one of them to the other. “What? You really haven’t guessed, have you?”
“Guessed what?” Thomas asked. He looked at Leah, who had sat down again, then back at Sara. “Wait. You don’t mean—”
“Ne,” Leah pronounced firmly, looking at him and then at Sara, too. “Not Thomas. Not for me.” Her cheeks took on a rosy glow. “It’s nothing against you, Thomas,” she hastened to explain, glancing back at him again. “But you’re not what I—” She turned her attention to Sara again. “I was very clear what I’m looking for. An older man. Settled. With children.”
Thomas shook his head, wondering what Sara could be thinking. “We’ve known each other our whole lives. You don’t think—”
“Stuff and nonsense!” Sara interrupted him, seeming perturbed. “Listen to the two of you. Who is the expert here? I’ve made more matches than you can imagine, and I think I know my business. You’re perfect for each other.” She pointed at him with her fork. “You’re badly in need of a wife, Thomas. And Leah doesn’t want to leave Seven Poplars and her family. What could be a better solution?”
“But Thomas isn’t...” Leah murmured.
“She...she doesn’t—” Thomas struggled to find the right words. If she wasn’t interested in him, he certainly wasn’t going to be interested in her.
“Look. Either you have faith in me or you don’t,” Sara said crisply. “Leah, you wanted an arranged marriage, someone of the faith that your family would approve of. And Thomas, you’ve been hopeless at finding someone on your own.” She fixed him with a determined gaze. “So here’s what I propose. Six weeks of dating. That should give you each time to consider the pros and cons of the other.”
“But I don’t want to date Thomas,” Leah insisted. “He’s the last sort of man I’d want to marry.”
Her words hurt him a little, and he felt his own ire rise. “She’s not what I’m looking for,” he blurted. “I won’t consider—”
“Oh, but you will,” Sara said rather firmly. “You will both agree to give this match a fair chance. Because if you don’t, if you won’t even open your minds to the possibility, then I’m not the matchmaker for you.” She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I’ll wash my hands of both of you.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_a0496fa3-92de-5f56-b7f5-b02e142cda04)
Leah didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know if she was more disappointed in Sara or upset with her that she would suggest such a thing. Hadn’t she just told Sara the other day that Thomas was all wrong for her? A terrible match. Of course, he was a good person. This was awkward, so much so that she almost wished the floor would open and let her drop through to the cellar. Anything to get out of this chair and away from Thomas.
“Well?” Sara said. “Are we in agreement, Leah? Six weeks?”
“I... I’m just afraid it would be...a waste of everyone’s time,” Leah hedged. “Not helpful for...” Her fork fell off the plate. She grabbed for it and missed. The fork clattered to the floor leaving a trail of blueberry-pie filling across the hardwood. Her face felt warm; she knew she was blushing. She reached to pick it up but Thomas was quicker. He grabbed the wayward utensil and dropped it onto his empty saucer.
Leah seized a napkin off Sara’s desk and wiped at the mess. It smeared and she got down on her knees to get the last of the blueberry smear.
Sara cleared her throat.
Leah got up hastily, crumpling the dirty napkin and shoving it into a spacious apron pocket. She glanced toward the door, wondering if she should make a run for it.
Sara folded her arms again and looked at Thomas. “What about you? Are you willing? Would you date Leah for six weeks?”
He started to rise and then settled back into his chair. “Ya, I suppose I could. I mean...” His tanned complexion flushed. “It’s just that I wasn’t expecting...”
“You can see that it wouldn’t work,” Leah blurted, finding her voice. “He doesn’t want—”
“Nonsense,” Sara interrupted. “What Thomas wants or doesn’t want clearly hasn’t been working, has it? That’s why he came to me.” She turned and their gazes locked. “And you came to me. You asked for my help. My opinion. And I’m giving it to you. My opinion is that you and Thomas may be a good match. An excellent match.” Sara steepled her hands and leaned forward, elbows braced against the desk. “And if nothing else, six weeks will give you time to settle in to Seven Poplars again. What is it the sailors say? Get your sea legs?”
Leah was in no mood for humor, but what could she say? She had hired Sara and she had put her trust in her abilities. And it wasn’t as if she could go door-to-door knocking at farmhouses, asking if there was an eligible bachelor available. She’d wanted a matchmaker so that she wouldn’t have to make a decision, so that the weight would be taken off her shoulders. Her plan was that whoever God sent, she would accept.
“I... I just...” Leah didn’t know what to say.
“Come now, it’s not as though I’m asking you to cry the banns next Sunday,” Sara said. “And Thomas is an acceptable escort. You might have fun. And if the two of you go to frolics, singings, socials, who knows—you might meet someone you really like.” She hesitated. “Humor me, Leah.”
Leah looked at Thomas. “What do you think?”
“I see no harm in it.” Thomas shrugged. “And it could be fun.”
“Ya,” Leah replied. “You would say that.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. I do like having a good time.”
“Well?” Sara asked.
Leah looked from the older woman to Thomas and back to Sara. “At the end of six weeks, if we both feel the same way, will you find me the older widower I asked for?”
“Of course,” Sara agreed. “And if I’ve made a mistake and wasted your time, I’ll consider a substantial reduction in my fee for your new matches.”
“Could we talk?” Thomas suggested. “Just Leah and me?” He glanced at her. “If you’re agreeable, Leah?”
“Ya,” she said.
“Fine.” Sara got up from her chair. “Take all the time you want. But I’ll leave the door open, for propriety’s sake.” She paused on her way out. “You two need to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“I wish I was certain of that,” Leah admitted, once she and Thomas were alone.
“Want to sit down?” Thomas motioned toward the chair she’d vacated. “Talk about this?”
Leah nodded, taking Sara’s seat, putting the desk between them. “I’m sorry about you being put on the spot this way. I had no idea that she was going to suggest—” she began.
“Me neither,” he said, cutting her off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just don’t want you to think I was in on this.”
“I know you weren’t. It’s fine. This is just so—”
“Awkward,” he finished for her.
“Ya,” she agreed, and found they were both chuckling as though they shared a joke. And perhaps they did. Sara’s ruse. “I suppose we’re stuck with this,” Leah ventured.
“Ne. Not if it doesn’t suit you. If you find me that...” Thomas seemed to search for a word. “Distasteful.”
Leah shook her head. “It’s not that. I like you, Thomas. You’re a good man. Just not...”
“What you were looking for,” he supplied. “I understand.”
“I’m glad someone does.” She nibbled at her bottom lip. “I thought it would be easier than this.”
His dark eyes lit with humor. “It would have been if I’d taken a fancy to Hazel.”
“And if I liked Holsteins more.” She returned Thomas’s smile with one of her own. She felt her annoyance slipping away. He was sweet. What harm could it do to humor Sara? It would only be for six weeks, and then she would get on with the process of making a serious arrangement. “I think we should just give in gracefully,” she admitted. “I think Sara has us in a corner.”
“Actually,” he said. “You might be doing me a favor. It will give me some time to get my family off my back.” He arched a brow questioningly. “Are you in?”
Leah nodded and offered him her hand. “I think we have a deal. Six weeks and no hard feelings when we break it off.”
His stood again and strong fingers closed around hers as he reached across the desk to shake on it. “Six weeks,” he echoed quietly. “We walk out together, have some fun, and everyone is satisfied.”
“And then we get on with our lives,” she finished.
“Goot enough.” He squeezed her hand and then released it. “So, will you let me walk you home after church services tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Are you sure? So soon?”
“Ya, tomorrow,” he answered steadily. “Why not tomorrow? We’ve made a bargain, haven’t we? When I agree to something, I keep my word.”
“All right,” she said, smiling at him again. “Me, too.”
* * *
“A good sermon,” Leah said. “Not too long.”
Thomas nodded. “Your sister’s husband is a good preacher. When Caleb first came to Seven Poplars, we thought he might not be a good fit, but we were wrong. We like him.” He grinned at her. “Partly because he doesn’t speak to hear the sound of his own voice.”
