A Match for Addy. Emma Miller
set her hopes too high. She would do as her father always did and place her faith in God. It should have been easy. If only Gideon Esch hadn’t pulled her out of a briar patch and carried her across the field like some English girl out of a paperback romance.
With trepidation, Dorcas—Addy, she reminded herself, she was Addy now—approached the fence line that bordered Sara’s property. The dreaded stile.
The sun was bright, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The day promised to be warm and humid, and she could already feel a sheen of moisture on her face and throat. She hoped she wouldn’t arrive at Sara’s all hot and sweaty; she wanted to appear mature and competent. Especially after last time.
But first things first—her good leather shoes that she’d left behind the tree two days ago. What if they weren’t there? It hadn’t rained, but the dew had been heavy the previous morning. What if they’d gotten mildew on them? Replacing the pair would be an expense that she couldn’t expect her parents to pay. And she’d be mortified to show up at church in her old sneakers. She’d have to use two weeks’ wages to replace the shoes, if they were ruined. And all because she hadn’t wanted to put up with a blister or two.
Of course, the condition of her shoes and getting over the fence were small concerns compared to the nervousness she felt about seeing Gideon again. What must he think of her? Did he know that Sara was seeking a husband for her? Had he known before she did?
Her mother said she hadn’t told her about the matchmaking agreement right away because she didn’t want Addy to feel self-conscious or to make a fool of herself on her first day of work. She had done that anyway.
Addy couldn’t decide whether to be pleased or annoyed that her parents had contacted the new matchmaker about her. She did want a husband, and she’d had no success in finding one on her own so far, but...she wished that her mam and dat had talked to her first. She might have been more careful to make a good first impression on Sara and Gideon. Not that Gideon would be interested in her—a good-looking, smart, sweet boy like him—but maybe he had a friend or a cousin who was seeking a bride. Maybe he even had an uncle whose wife had passed away, a settled man with a trade, who might be willing to make a match with a woman nearing thirty. She didn’t want Gideon to think that she was immodest because she’d allowed him to carry her across the field. It hadn’t been prudent, but at the time...
Addy sighed. Whatever had possessed her? She’d thought she had better sense, but he’d just taken over the situation. And she couldn’t deny that she’d been thrilled by the experience. Nothing like it had ever happened to her before. Not that that was an excuse for her inappropriate behavior. She’d have to be cautious so as to not find herself in a compromising position with a boy again. Any boy. She was a respectable member of the church, and she was expected to follow the ordnung, which forbade certain behavior between men and women. While there might not be a concrete statement concerning girls letting boys carry them across fields, she knew full well that it wasn’t acceptable.
Nearly to the stile, Addy peered behind the tree where she’d deposited her shoes. To her relief, the black leather oxfords were exactly as she’d left them. She picked them up and brushed away the spider webs. Then she lifted the dress that Sara had loaned her from her split oak basket, put the shoes on the bottom and carefully replaced the folded garment on top.
When she turned to the fence, to her surprise, she saw that the old fencing and stile were gone and the briars had been cleared away. In their place were solid new posts, shiny, five-feet-high stock wire and a sturdy set of steps with a handrail. Someone, Gideon, she supposed, had been busy. At least twenty feet of fencing had been replaced, and there was a pile of new wooden posts waiting to be put into the ground.
Addy climbed up and over the new stile with ease and then strode purposefully across the pasture toward Sara’s outbuildings. Two sorrel mules that she hadn’t seen before grazed on the lush grass. The first animal paid her little attention and kept eating, but the second lifted a big head, twitched its long ears and stared curiously at her as she passed. She felt like it was staring at her—the girl who needed a matchmaker to get a husband.
Which was silly, of course. Lots of Amish girls needed the help of a matchmaker to find a good husband. There was no reason for her to feel embarrassed. Sometimes it was just a matter of fitting the right girl with the right boy. Was it her fault that she had been born plain, or that she’d grown so tall, taller than her dat and many of the men in Seven Poplars? And wouldn’t it be worth it if Sara found her a good husband? She smiled to herself at the thought...a husband she could love. A husband who would love her. Love between a man and woman wasn’t a subject discussed in her parents’ house, but she had only to see her Yoder cousins and the fine matches they had made to know it could happen.
The rhythmic thud of an ax striking wood cut through her reverie. As she entered the barnyard, she looked up to see Gideon.
“Good morning, Addy,” he called. He was standing at the edge of a pile of freshly split sections of logs.
Addy stood for a moment, mesmerized.
He lifted the ax to rest on his shoulder. “You’re feeling better today, I hope.”
“Ya,” she answered. She felt her cheeks grow warm, and she fought the urge to look at the ground. “I am.”
His grin lit up his handsome face, and warmth swirled in Addy’s stomach. Gideon was so clean and wholesome, standing there in his worn clothes and battered hat, that she had to remind herself that he wasn’t for her. It was likely his parents had sent him to Seven Poplars so that he could marry up. Hired man or not, with a strong back, an easy manner and a fair face like his, he’d be guaranteed a match with a pretty girl from a wealthy family or a plump widow with land of her own.
“Sara tells me that this is a church Sunday coming up.” Gideon took off his hat and pushed his hair off his face. Moisture dotted his forehead and soaked through his shirt, revealing more of his muscular chest and shoulders than was proper.
Realizing she was staring, Addy swallowed and glanced at the ground. “At my Aunt Hannah’s. Close by. You can walk.”
“I’m looking forward to worshipping with your congregation.”
She knew she shouldn’t be standing there chatting when Sara was waiting for her, but she ventured another glance at him. “My father is one of the preachers.”
“Ellie told me. She liked his last sermon, on Noah’s faith.”
Addy nodded. That had always been one of her favorite stories from the Old Testament. “Dat says that people must have thought he was crazy, Noah. To build a boat when they were so far from the sea.”
“I wish I’d heard the sermon.” He had the nicest eyes, she thought, so large and full of life.
“I think Bishop Atlee will preach on Sunday, or maybe Caleb. He’s married to my cousin Rebecca.”
Gideon sank the ax into a stump and rubbed his hands together, easing the strain of gripping the ax. “I’m looking forward to it, and to meeting your neighbors. Sara says the congregation has welcomed her.”
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Ellie said, appearing from behind one of the outbuildings. “Addy’s here, Sara!” she called toward the house. For a small girl, she had a big voice.
Sara came out of the utility room onto the porch with a basket of wet laundry. “You’re early. Goot. Help me hang these sheets, and then we’ll start painting the big bedroom. I may have girls coming in soon to stay with us while I find matches for them. It’s the way I like to do things.” She glanced at the woodpile. “My, you’ve done a lot since breakfast.”
Gideon wrenched his ax from the stump. “Best to get the heavy work done early. The day promises to be another scorcher.”
“Hotter