A Perfect Amish Match. Vannetta Chapman
but Daddi was having none of it. He captured her hands in one of his, which were still strong—they were the same hands that had felled trees and planted fields and carved Olivia Mae’s letter box. “Don’t bother me with that, Rachel. Did you see the size of that hog? Nearly knocked over my chair trying to get at your peanut-butter squares.”
Olivia Mae and Mammi shared a look, but neither corrected him. They’d learned long ago that doing so only made matters worse.
* * *
Noah spent most of the drive home wondering if he should have gone back up the porch steps to make sure everyone was all right. As he’d walked away, he had distinctly heard an old man’s shouting. Olivia Mae had clearly not wanted help—she’d practically slammed the screen door shut without a single look back.
His mood jostled between concern for this woman he didn’t know, aggravation at his brother and curiosity over what was in the box. She had barely glanced at the top sheet, though plainly she’d recognized it instantly.
Noah was twenty-nine years old, and it wasn’t lost on him that all the fine women—women like Olivia Mae Miller—were taken. No doubt her husband had been out in the fields or in the barn with the animals, though he had wondered at the absence of children. Most Amish households had a whole passel.
She had struck him as quintessentially Amish. Thick brown hair pulled back under her kapp, with just enough showing that he’d been sure to notice how it was shot through with blond. Simple Amish frock covered with a clean apron. Brown eyes that seemed to be both laughing and taking in everything at the same time. She reminded him of a teacher he’d had his last year of school—she’d been young and seemed impossibly beautiful and even then he couldn’t understand why she was teaching.
That was it. She’d reminded him of a teacher, and he’d felt like a schoolboy squirming under her gaze.
Teacher! Ha. Perhaps she read romance books when she wasn’t tending to her children. That would explain her fascination with true love. He’d nearly laughed at her, but stopped when he saw the serious look on her face. She was a believer—no doubt about that. Why shouldn’t she be? For Olivia Mae life had turned out the way it was supposed to. For him? Not so much. His mind threatened to turn toward his past failed relationships, but he shook his head and focused on the scene in front of him instead.
He pulled into his parents’ farm, which was one of the larger properties in Goshen. It wasn’t that they were wealthy, but with seven boys, his dat had made it a priority to purchase any adjacent property as it became available. The result was that they owned close to three hundred acres, which was enough for four farms. Three of his brothers had built adjacent homes, two had moved to nearby counties and one had taken over the family place.
As for Noah, he had no intention of being a farmer.
He’d found his passion, and it was in the auction house.
He directed the buggy horse into the barn and jumped down from the seat as his two younger brothers emerged from the back stalls.
“Managed to miss most of the work,” Samuel said, a smile playing across his lips. Samuel was the youngest of the boys. He’d inherited their mamm’s blond hair as well as her shape—short and stocky.
Justin was also short, though thin like Noah. He leaned against a bale of hay as Noah removed the harness from the buggy mare.
“How was Olivia Mae?”
“You sent me to a matchmaker? Really?”
Justin held up his hands in innocence, and Samuel began to laugh. “Can’t blame us for trying.”
“A matchmaker?”
“You’re the one who wanted to return the box. You could have left it at the office, and they would have mailed it to her.”
“I thought I was doing the neighborly thing. Instead I walked into a trap.”
“A trap?”
“Mamm probably put you up to it.”
“Now you’re being paranoid. Mamm didn’t even know about the box.”
“I’m surprised our community tolerates such.”
“Are you kidding? Olivia Mae has been a real asset around here. No fewer than six marriages in the last year are a direct result of her—”
“Meddling?”
“Encouragement.”
“Well, I’m not interested.”
“Told you that’s what he’d say.” Samuel nudged Justin and held out his hand. “Pay up.”
Grudgingly Justin pulled out his wallet and slipped a five-dollar bill into his brother’s hand.
“Seriously? You’re betting on my social life?”
Samuel laughed again as he pocketed the money, walked out of the barn and headed across the field toward his own family. Noah finished unharnessing the mare and set her out to pasture as Justin watched.
“Actually we’re betting on the absence of your social life,” he finally said. “Which isn’t quite the same thing.”
“So you admit that’s why you sent me over there?”
“No. Not at first. Samuel didn’t know when you asked him to bid on the box that it was Olivia Mae’s.”
“This wasn’t a setup from the get-go?”
“We don’t have the time or energy to be that manipulative. I was standing in the back watching—it being your first auction and all. You did well, by the way.”
Noah rolled his eyes and tried not to be distracted by the praise.
“When we realized who the box belonged to, we figured it couldn’t hurt for you to meet her.”
“So it was more of a coincidence than a setup.”
“We just saw it as an opportunity.”
Noah grunted.
“But it couldn’t hurt to talk to the woman.”
“I did. She thanked me for the box, pried into my recent history, and then had to go because of some emergency in the house.”
Justin took off his hat and scratched the top of his head. “You know Mamm and Dat worry.”
“Because I’m not married?”
“Because you’re not the least bit interested in getting married.”
“Why should they worry about that?”
“They don’t want you to be alone in your old age.”
“I have the six of you, plus your wives and children to keep me company. Not to mention Mamm and Dat are in excellent health.”
“It’s not the same as having your own family.”
“Says who? You? You’ve been married what...six months?”
“Never been happier.”
“And I’m glad for you.”
Justin let that comment slide, but as they walked out of the barn and toward the house he said, “You sound kind of crabby.”
“Do I?”
“Maybe she got under your skin.”
“Maybe you should mind your own business.” The words came out crankier than he’d intended. Noah softened them by shoving his bruder and taking off toward the house. And suddenly it was like they were ten years old again and racing for the first hot biscuit.
They tumbled into the house, both laughing, and Noah wondered why his knee had begun to twinge after a short sprint. He was trying to rub it inconspicuously