Emma Miller - A Love For Leah

It had been more than a week since Sara’s barn social. Thomas had spent days wrestling with the idea of asking for help in finding a wife. He’d prayed on it, and he’d considered asking the bishop to add his name to the upcoming classes in preparation for baptism in the fall. But he hadn’t been ready to take that step yet. One obstacle at a time. Maybe finding the right girl would erase the last doubts he had about a Plain life. As much as his parents wanted him to join the faith, they wanted it for the right reasons. It had to wholeheartedly be his choice, not someone else’s. The Old Order Amish lifestyle was a lifetime commitment, one you were supposed to enter with joy.

Tonight, he’d come after supper, as Sara had asked. He hoped that he wouldn’t run into Ellie or Leah. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed about using a matchmaker. It was more that a man’s personal business ought to be private. And what could be more personal than choosing a wife?

Thomas hadn’t mentioned to Sara that his grandfather was threatening to leave the farm to someone else. The possibility of losing the farm hurt, but if Thomas hadn’t thought that maybe his grandfather was right, he would never have agreed to make an official agreement with the matchmaker.

He started to rise from his chair, but Sara waved him back into his seat. They were in her office in her home, a spacious room with comfortable furniture, deep window seats and a colorful braid rug.

“Don’t go yet,” she said. “I have a fresh pot of coffee and a blueberry pie that’s just begging to be sliced.” She made a few more notations on the yellow legal-sized notepad and tucked the sheet into a manila folder.

“How long do you think it will take?” Thomas asked. He rested his straw hat on one knee and looked at her.

“Slicing the pie or finding you a wife?”

He grimaced, still not entirely convinced this whole matchmaker thing was a good idea. “Finding somebody for me.”

“Actually, I already have someone in mind.”

“Not that Hazel girl you introduced me to the other night,” he protested. “I didn’t care for her at all.”

She chuckled. “Not Hazel. Funny you should mention her, though. She and Fred Petersheim hit it off. It seems he didn’t care for my potato salad either.”

Thomas laughed. “I thought it was great.”

“I’m pleased. Now,” she said, rising, “you make yourself at ease. I won’t be a moment. How is it you like your coffee?”

“Sugar and milk. Two sugars.”

“You like it sweet.”

“Ya, I do. I could come out in the kitchen with you,” he suggested. “No need for you to—”

“No. Stay where you are, Thomas.” She walked from the room, closing the door behind her.

Thomas tapped the heel of one boot nervously. He glanced around the room. The pale blue walls were hung with cross-stitch family trees and several large calendars. One showed a farmer plowing with a six-horse team against a rural background. Another showed a mare and newborn foal, the little filly tentatively trying out her new legs in tall clover.

In one corner of the room stood a battered green filing cabinet. He wondered if there was a manila folder in one of the drawers that would hold his future. It was exciting and a little frightening to put his life in Sara’s hands. He was tempted to wander over and take a peek. He wasn’t normally a snoop, but if he just—

The door opened and Thomas turned his head to see not Sara but Leah. She was carrying a tray with slices of pie and three cups of coffee. “Oh!” he said. “You startled me.” He rose and hurried to take the tray, realizing that although he’d hoped they wouldn’t run into each other this evening, he was pleased to see her.

“Sara asked me to bring this in,” Leah explained with a smile. “She said she’ll just be a minute.” He put the tray on the desk, and she took a seat opposite him and motioned to the coffee. “Please, go ahead. It’s nice and hot.”

He noticed that she was wearing glasses. He didn’t think that she had worn them at the barn frolic. But they did nothing to hide the intelligent sparkle of her bright blue eyes. Leah should have been as plain as a barnyard dove in her worn gray dress, apron and headscarf, but red-gold tendrils of hair framed her heart-shaped face, and merry dimples gave her a mischievous appearance.

He wondered if Sara could find him someone like Leah. But maybe not so pretty, he thought. Ellie had warned him that he needed to look beyond an attractive face and neat figure.

A minute or two passed. Leah cupped her coffee mug in her hands and inhaled the steam. She didn’t speak, and Thomas realized that the silence between them wasn’t awkward. Rather, he found it peaceful. Most girls he knew liked to fill every second with chatter.

He tasted his own coffee. It was good. He would have to ask Sara what brand it was. His mother was an excellent cook, but her coffee left something to be desired. It was either too weak or something. It never tasted as good as Sara’s. This was hearty, with a brisk, bright flavor.

“I guess it was quiet in the jungle,” he remarked. “No traffic, not many people.”

Leah smiled and shook her head. “Not noisy like here in the States, but certainly not quiet. There were so many insects, buzzing, flapping, whirring. For the first month I was there, I found it hard to sleep. And the monkeys? Some kinds scream, others howl. They all chatter nonstop. And sometimes you’d hear a deep rumble, like a cough in the night. Iago said that when I heard that noise, I should stay inside the house or clinic hut because it was a leopard and I would make a fine meal for a big cat.”

Thomas gave her a sharp look. “A leopard? Did you ever see one?”

“No, but Iago said that they came to our side of the river in the rainy season. One had killed a child from the nearest village two years earlier. He wasn’t given to tall tales, so I believed him.” She rested her mug on the wooden arm of her chair. “You would think him odd if you saw him. He wasn’t as tall as me; he had a potbelly, and his hair was cut like a cap just below his ears. Even though he was a great-grandfather, his hair was still as black as soot and coarse as a horse’s mane. Iago’s tattooed face was wizened like a winter apple and his legs were bowed, but he was stronger than you can imagine. He was my dearest friend other than my Daniel, and I shall never forget him. Iago taught me so much about life. It was his wisdom and patience that made it possible for us to live and work among the St. Joes.”

“I would like to have met your Iago,” Thomas said.

“You would have liked him. He told such stories that I could listen all day.”

“He spoke English?”

Leah chuckled and shook her head. “Only a little. His granddaughter translated for me, and Iago was a fine actor. He used such expressions and hand movements that it was easy to follow.”

“Who was easy to follow?” Sara asked as she entered the room.

Thomas stood. “Leah was telling me about some of her adventures in Brazil. It seems she was nearly eaten by a leopard.”

“I didn’t say that.” Leah laughed.

Sara took her place behind her desk and helped herself to a slice of pie. “Mmm. Coffee’s still hot. Good.” She motioned to the other plates of pie. “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s for eating, not looking.”

Thomas took a plate and handed it to Leah.

“I should leave you two alone,” Leah said, rising, her plate in her hand. “If you and Thomas have business.”

“We do.” Sara wiped a drop of coffee from her lip. “And so do you and I.” She glanced from one of them to the other. “What? You really haven’t guessed, have you?”

“Guessed what?” Thomas asked. He looked at Leah, who had sat down again, then back at Sara. “Wait. You don’t mean—”