A Love For Leah. Emma Miller
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.”
“But what he said was powerful,” Leah replied. “A good preacher doesn’t need to shout to deliver God’s message.”
“Ya, I agree.” Thomas bent to pick up a stick lying on the edge of the blacktop and tossed it into the woods. “When a sermon is too long, a man’s thoughts drift. I like the short ones best.”
It was late afternoon and they were on their way back to Sara’s house after worship. Ahead of them, a few hundred yards, walked a young family: a mother, father and three children. Some distance behind them, another couple strolled. Buggies passed at regular intervals, followed by an occasional automobile or pickup truck, but this was a narrow country road with little traffic other than locals, a safe road for walking.
The Kings’ farm, where services had been held today, was two miles from Sara’s, but the weather was mild and the spring sun warm on his face—so warm that Thomas looked overdressed in his coat and vest. She suspected that he would rather remove the coat and walk home in shirtsleeves, but it wouldn’t be proper on the Sabbath. Thomas seemed fast, almost reckless at times, but he wasn’t outright rebellious.
Leah was comfortable enough in her gray cotton dress and black leather oxfords. She considered herself a good walker, and although Thomas’s legs were a lot longer than hers, she had no trouble keeping up.
Thomas groaned and patted his stomach. “I think I might have had one too many helpings of Anna’s shoofly pie.”
“Greedy. You should have stopped at one slice.”
He chuckled. “I thought it was delicious, but I couldn’t be sure until I ate a second piece.”
“Three,” she reminded him. “You had three slices.”
“Small slices,” he admitted, and laughed with her. “This isn’t so bad, is it? Walking out with me? Unless you’d rather be driving.”
She shook her head, thinking of her little black car parked behind Sara’s chicken house. “I don’t mind walking,” she answered. “It’s