A Match for Addy. Emma Miller
was, he had noticed earlier, wearing the lavender dress that he’d managed to rescue. “I thought Sara had done it, but Ellie said it was you.”
She looked uncertain, and he smiled at her. “No problem. My sisters taught me. Nine of us, and me the only boy. They weren’t too good at baseball, but...” He shrugged. “Not many men you know sew?”
Addy had nice hair, a soft brown with just a little hint of auburn. She was tall for a woman. He thought he could smell honeysuckle. Was there such a thing as honeysuckle shampoo, he wondered? She wasn’t what you’d call a pretty girl, but she had nice eyes and an intelligent face. Her kapp was spotless white and starched stiff. He knew how much work it took to make it just so. He’d watched his sisters ironing their kapps on many Saturday evenings and now imagined Addy standing at an ironing board, using an old-fashioned iron she heated on the woodstove.
“Not one,” she said.
He suddenly realized that he’d been daydreaming. “I’m sorry?”
“Not one man that I know can sew a tear so that you can hardly see it. I don’t think I could have done it so well myself. And you got the bloodstain out of the hem. Thank you. I thought the dress was ruined.”
“Well, it’s not,” he said. For a moment, she just stood there, and the silence stretched between them, not an uncomfortable quiet, but a reassuring one. He liked that. Addy might not have the fairest face he’d ever seen, but there was just something about her... “I guess you think I’m odd that way. That I know how to sew.”
“I think it’s wonderful.” She produced a carrot, went over to the fence and whistled. She waved the carrot, and the whole herd of alpacas trotted toward her. Carefully, she snapped the carrot into small pieces and tossed them to the eager animals.
Again, there was an easy stillness between them as he came over to stand beside her at the fence.
“I suppose you heard...” she said, breaking the silence. She grimaced. “My parents...they...” A flush spread over her face. “They asked Sara to find a husband for me.”
“And you don’t want them to do that?”
She dropped onto the grass, folding her long legs modestly under her skirt. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s...well, it’s embarrassing...telling everyone that I need help finding someone.” She tugged at a blade of grass, plucking first one and then another. “That, otherwise, I’ll be an old maid peeling potatoes in my mother’s kitchen when I’m sixty, with gray hairs on my chin.”
He chuckled. “Sounds pretty bad when you put it that way.”
She tugged at more blades of grass. “I figured you knew. Ellie does, for sure. Who knows who else does?”
“But you want to marry, don’t you?”
“I suppose, but I always thought I’d find my own husband. Or...” Her eyes glistened as if she might start to cry. “Or he’d find me.”
“Not everybody does it that way.” He sat down beside her in the grass. “Why do you think my father and mother sent me here? I could have found work as a hired man in our community. Or I could have gone on helping my father.”
“What does he do?”
“Makes sausage. Sells it to people.”
“Ach. Sausage. Everybody likes sausage.”
“And it’s good sausage.” He smiled at her. “So what I’m trying to say is that you aren’t alone. My mam and dat and Ellie’s parents think like your mother and father. They’re trying to do a good thing. Because they love us and want us to be happy.”
“I suppose, but...” She tossed the grass through the fence to a young alpaca. “What if I don’t like who Sara picks for me?”
“Then you say no. ‘Danke, Sara, but no.’ It’s easy.” He grinned. “I’ve been doing it for years.”
She turned to him with surprise. “You’ve turned down matches?”
“A handsome, hardworking man like me?” He winked. “I’ve escaped more pretty girls than you have fingers on both hands. If you think you’re hard to please, I’m impossible.”
“So we’re both being difficult,” Addy mused.
He plucked idly at the clover. “It seems that way.”
“My grossmama says that it’s pride that keeps me from finding a good marriage.” She looked at him. “Do you think it is?”
“Hochmut?” He thought for a moment. “I hope not,” he answered honestly. “I’d not want to think of myself as a prideful person. Hardheaded, maybe, but not full of a false sense of my own importance.”
“Goot,” Addy replied. “Because I wouldn’t want that, either.” She got to her feet and brushed off her skirts. “I have to go. My mother will wonder where I’ve gotten to. There’s bound to be cleaning up.”
He stood. “Should I come to help?”
She shook her head. “Women’s work, and not so hard as to break the rules of the Sabbath. Only dishes and food to clear away.”
Gideon stood there awhile, leaning on the fence after Addy left and unable to get what she’d said out of his mind. Could her grandmother be right? he wondered. Was his reluctance to choose a wife hochmut? He tried every day to live by the principles of his faith. Was it wrong to hope that there was someone waiting...someone he could love with all of his heart...someone special that he just hadn’t found yet?
Addy arrived at Sara’s promptly at 8:00 a.m. Thursday morning, and by nine, she and Ellie had cleared away the breakfast dishes, picked crook-neck squash, eggplant and tomatoes from the garden, and swept the front and back porch. Now they were busily taping Sara’s parlor in preparation for painting the walls and trim. The previous day, Gideon had given the ceiling two coats of a soft white and carried in two gallons of pale blue, two brushes, two rollers and a shiny new paint tray.
Addy stood on a stepladder to tape off the white ceiling molding while Ellie applied the blue tape to the floor molding. Addy never ceased to be amazed at how quickly and efficiently the little woman worked. She put Addy in mind of a honeybee, laughing or singing instead of buzzing, but constantly in motion. Any preconceived notions Addy had had about a little person had been quickly replaced with respect. Not only did Ellie do her share of the housework—Addy also found she had to scramble just to keep pace. And Ellie was always good-natured and fun to be around.
Addy had lived in Seven Poplars all her life, and it was rare that she got to spend time with another Amish girl from far off. And although, from what Ellie said, life was much the same in her home community in Wisconsin, Addy found her stories of girlfriends and rejected suitors and new jokes fascinating.
She guessed that Ellie was a few years younger than she was, but like her, past the age that most Amish girls in Seven Poplars married. She supposed that it had to be difficult for a little person, even one as pretty and personable as Ellie, to find a husband. Not that Ellie seemed to mind. According to what Sara said, Ellie was one of her most difficult girls to match, more because she was picky than because she was a little person. Addy was dying to ask how many matches Ellie had turned down, but didn’t want to seem rude.
Addy slowly inched the roll of blue tape along the crown molding with one hand, smoothing it with the other. “Do you know the Zook boy Mary and Violet were talking about on Sunday? The one in Wisconsin?”
“Abram?” Ellie paused, a strip of blue tape suspended between her hands. “I don’t really know him, but Sara asked my mother if she thought I’d be interested. He’s a nice fellow, so I hear, a hard worker, but...” She grimaced. “Too much of him