The Matchmaker (7 page)

“What do you think?” Hannah reached for the letter, holding it in her hands as if it were the most precious item on earth. She stared at it, her eyes taking in the neat handwriting on the outside of the envelope. “It’s a fine letter, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” Emma took a deep breath. “So fine a letter that it lends me to wonder if his
schwester
helped him write it. I can hardly imagine the man I met last week capable of expressing himself so well, never mind this impressive penmanship!”

Hannah giggled again and pressed the missive to her chest. “Can you imagine?”

“Nee
.” Emma pursed her lips. “
Nee
, I really cannot.”

As if sensing that Emma did not quite share her joy, Hannah stopped and looked at her friend. “What shall I do?”

Emma frowned. “In regard to the letter?”

“Of course!” Hannah replied, her tone slightly exasperated. “Shall I write back right away then?”

“Ja
, I think so,” Emma concurred.

Hannah sighed and plopped down into the recliner near the window. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair. “But what must I say? I’m not nearly as eloquent as you are, Emma. I do need your help, please.”

For a moment Emma pondered her words carefully. “I think it should be drafted in your own words, Hannah. Show your gratitude and flattery while expressing your own disappointment as you refuse him gently but quickly and with kindness.”

Emma’s words stopped Hannah, causing her hands to fall to her side, the letter still held in her left hand. “Refuse
him?” Her mouth fell open, and the shock that she felt at Emma’s words was apparent on her expression. “You think I should
refuse
him?”

“Oh, help and bother!” Emma covered her mouth and looked away. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she realized her blunder.
A time to keep silence
,
and a time to speak
, she thought to herself. “I’m so sorry, Hannah! I misunderstood you. I didn’t suspect that you were actually considering a favorable reply!” She reached out and clutched her friend’s hand, staring into her face. “Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” Hannah asked, a confused look on her face.

“Just never you mind my words, Hannah. I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do! Courtship is, after all, a very private matter.”

But the seed was clearly planted.

“You . . . you think I should turn him away?” The tone in Hannah’s voice was a mixture of surprise, indecision, and concern. Clearly she cared about Emma’s opinion and what Emma thought about her possible suitor. “I hadn’t realized he cared so much for me,” she began, speaking aloud more for her own benefit than Emma’s.

“Marriage is forever,” Emma pointed out. “How long did you stay at their farm? A week? How well could you get to know someone in such a short period of time?”

“I suppose not very well.”

“And I imagine it was short visits with his
schwesters
around,
ja
? Just short, friendly exchanges?”

Hannah nodded her head. “He was friendly, true. But to want to officially court me? I reckon it is rather . . . surprising,” she said, although it sounded as though she was trying to convince herself more than Emma.

“Seems to me that,
mayhaps
, you have your own doubts,
ja
?” Emma smiled softly as she returned her attention to her quilting. “Anna always told Irene and me that when a woman has doubts, she has no choice but to refuse. When one hesitates to say
ja
, then one must say
nee
immediately!”

There was a moment of silence, as Hannah contemplated Emma’s words.

Emma took advantage of the pause to continue. “Of course, if you think Ralph is the most interesting and godly of men and wish to spend your life with him without any second thoughts about your future . . . ” She let her voice trail off, the sentence unfinished as she pushed the needle into the quilt top once again. The silence that ensued reassured Emma that she had hit her mark and that Hannah was considering her words.

“I suppose it
is
rather sudden,” Hannah admitted.

“And to spend your days as the wife of a pig farmer,” Emma added, a disapproving look on her face. “I dare not think about how long and tedious your days would be. Why, we’d never get to see one another, I’m sure and certain! You’d be married to the farm as much as to Ralph!”

At this, Hannah gasped. “Never see you? I never thought about that! Oh, Emma! I can’t imagine not being able to visit you on a regular basis!” She took a deep breath and tilted her chin, a fresh look of resolve on her face. “You are so right, Emma. I had not thought this through. I have no choice but to refuse his offer.”

Setting down the needle, Emma smiled at her friend. “Well then, I reckon you should reply to him straight away,
ja
? Best tell him immediately what your response is to his proposition.” Without waiting for an answer, she stood up and hurried over to the kitchen cabinet next to the refrigerator. She opened the drawer and withdrew a small, flat box.
“I have stationery here, Hannah. You can sit at the table to write the letter, if that helps.”

To Emma’s surprise, the color suddenly drained from Hannah’s face. “Please help me, Emma. I have no idea what words to use!”

“Now, now,” Emma soothed. “As I already said, just be kind and gentle yet firm in giving your refusal. I suppose it shouldn’t be too long of a letter for fear that he will consider that a tease. You certainly have no need to fear your selection of words, Hannah. You are, after all, an intelligent creature.”

Feeling more confident, Hannah nodded, an expression of determination on her face. She took the paper and a pen from Emma before bending her head down to begin drafting the letter to Ralph Martin, informing him that he dare not come courting her at Gladys’s house after all.

After the letter was completed, carefully worded to avoid hurt feelings, or at least to lessen the blow, Emma inquired if she needed to return directly to Gladys’s home. When Hannah shook her head, stating that she had managed to complete all of the necessary chores, Emma was quick to suggest that they return to the living room to quilt. A distraction would do her friend good, and Emma knew that sewing could do just that.

They sat by the quilting frame, the silence allowing time for meditation and reflection. Emma loved the sound of the thread poking through the fabric and sliding, ever so gracefully and smoothly, as she pulled it up from beneath the material. She could quilt for hours, she reckoned, but after a while her back would begin to ache just enough that she would have to set down the needle and thimble to take a moment to stretch her back. Blinking as she stood before
the window, she felt a slow burning beneath her eyelids.
It won’t be long
, she realized,
before I’ll be needing glasses
.

“How long until we are finished, you reckon, Emma?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder at the quilt. In just a week, they had managed to quilt almost half of the quilt top. “Why, no more than two weeks if we continue to work at the same pace. Even less if we work harder.
Mayhaps
Anna might come visiting again to help a spell. Many hands make light the work.” The adage was core to the Amish belief system. When people volunteered their assistance, tasks were always completed faster, and the fellowship of working alongside others always made the work more enjoyable.

“I was thinking,” Emma said cautiously, breaking the light silence that had befallen them. “I’m sure that you’d like to meet more people in Lititz, and I had an idea about how to do so.”

“Oh?” To say that Hannah was intrigued was putting it mildly. She set down her needle and stared at her friend. “Please share it with me. I’d love to hear it.”

“Well,” Emma started, her head dipped down as she pushed the needle through the quilt top. “You know I go visiting on Thursday mornings. I like to stop in at the homes of the widows in our district. Those are usually the days that their caretakers and family are busy at market, you see.”

Hannah nodded, hanging onto every word that Emma spoke. Emma was pleased that her friend showed such interest, glad to create a diversion for Hannah after such an emotional morning in regard to Ralph Martin’s letter.

“Ja vell
,” she continued. “If we were to ask members of the
g’may
to give us their favorite adages and Bible verses, we could compile them into a nice little booklet to copy and distribute to the widows for Christmas.” She looked up, her
eyes glowing. “I do believe those women would love that, don’t you think?”

A smile crossed Hannah’s face as she gazed at Emma. “That is such a lovely idea, Emma. It almost brings tears to my eyes at how thoughtful and kindhearted you are.”

“No more so than anyone else, I imagine,” Emma responded modestly. “Although I do confess that it serves the additional purpose of better acquainting you with more people in the
g’may.
”

The opening of a door interrupted their concentration. Emma glanced over her shoulder as her
daed
walked into the room, Paul Esh following close behind. At the sight of Paul, Emma smiled and immediately set down her needle and thimble.

“Gut mariye
, Emma.” Paul nodded in her direction. “And to you too, Hannah. I’d say that I’m surprised to see you here, but I heard from your
daed
that you are busy working on a new quilt for the auction.”

“Hannah is helping me, indeed.”

“How very good of you, Hannah. It will certainly raise money that is much needed to help those less fortunate.” Paul paused, his eyes drifting over the quilt that was spread taut in the frame.

At last Hannah stepped outside of her tendency toward shyness, as she replied, “Emma has arranged to donate the quilt to the Mennonite Central Committee. I have never quilted before so this has been a fun, new adventure for me. Emma has taught me so much!”

“I can only imagine,” Paul said approvingly. “She is known for her many talents. And I’m sure she must certainly be a great teacher.”

“Oh,
ja
, the best,” Hannah gushed. “She knows so much about quilting. I have found a new passion, indeed!”

“A woman who quilts has admirable talents in my eyes. Such creativity and patience. I always said a quilting woman would be the one who steals my heart.” He paused and glanced at the two women. “If that is God’s will, of course.”

Emma watched the exchange between the two, the smile still on her lips as she recognized a sparkle in Hannah’s eyes that mirrored itself in Paul’s. With a delightful skip of her heart she realized that a courtship would most certainly ensue between the two of them. And she was more than certain that Paul, while vastly different and much more acceptable in her eyes than Ralph Martin, shared one thing in common with the man: marriage on the mind.

“And what brings you to visit today?” she ventured to ask when a small lull of silence fell over the small group.

Removing his hat, Paul stood between the two women. His brown hair, cut in a typical Amish style of flat across the forehead and angled by his ears, was flattened on his head, and he quickly ran his fingers through it. “Figured it was time to make good on my promise to your
daed
and fix that hinge on the barn door. And none too soon, I might add. The old rusty one was more than ready to retire, I do believe.”

Both Hannah and Emma laughed at his joke.

“Danke
, Paul. His hands aren’t as strong as they used to be.”

“My pleasure,” he replied with a beaming smile on his face.

Henry, however, grumbled under his breath at her comment. “Hands are just fine. It’s my eyes that aren’t so good. Need to eat more carrots, I tell you.”

Ignoring her
daed’s
complaints, Emma got up from her
chair and started toward the kitchen. “I made some fresh bread this morning,” she said. “Let me package some for you to take home. To thank you for your help.” Before Paul could counter her offer, she rested her hand on his arm. “We insist, don’t we,
Daed
?”

“It’s not that white bread, is it?” Henry called over his shoulder before turning his attention back to Paul. “Wheat bread, that’s the only kind to have. Read it in a book about avoiding that cancer. Wheat works wonders. Any other is not healthy for the body. Wheat, I tell you.”

With a quick lift of her eyes, Emma hurried past the men and into the kitchen. “
Ja
,
Daed
, it’s wheat bread. I’d think no more of baking you white bread than I’d consider baking you a cake!”

Henry caught his breath and shook his head. “Cake! Why, that’s just as bad as the white bread. All that sugar is bad for the body.” He turned to Paul. “We need to eat healthier, honor God’s temple in our bodies, and not poison it with sugar and processed food. Those
Englische
folk . . . why, just look at how they poison themselves and all the diseases they get as a result! You must tell your
daed
to preach about the benefits of wholesome food and whole-wheat bread made with flaxseed oil, as well! And when Irene visits next week, we must caution her to limit the sweets she gives to her
kinner
!”

Glancing over her shoulder, Emma noticed that Paul nodded his head in response to her father’s ranting. She barely suppressed a smile and went about the task of wrapping the freshly made loaf of whole wheat bread in plastic for Paul’s journey home. She took longer than usual, working slowly so that Hannah had no choice but to engage in
conversation with Paul. He was quick to admire the progress of their quilting.

“I can’t believe how much you have accomplished so far!” he exclaimed, a genuine look of admiration on his face. “I do believe you will be ready for binding the edges within the next week!”

Hannah looked over at Emma, not certain how to respond.

“Oh, the binding!” Emma returned to the room and handed Paul the wrapped loaf of bread. “We must send that out to be done. I must confess that binding is not one of my strengths.”