Emma Miller - A Match for Addy

“More tea?” A young woman with dark hair and bright blue eyes leaned over to fill his glass. “Did you want more ice? I can get ice.”

“ Ne , I’m fine,” he assured her.

A minute later, another unmarried girl stopped to try to fill his glass again .

It was no wonder Sara had moved her business here to Delaware; there seemed to be plenty of available young women looking for husbands. Of course, no Amish woman wore a wedding ring, so he had to guess who was single, but he’d gotten pretty good at it. Even the shy girls had a way of letting you know that they were “in the market,” so to say.

When Gideon couldn’t eat another bite, he finished his tea, then waved away the blue-eyed girl who wanted to refill it, yet again. “Danke,” he said. “I couldn’t drink another drop.” She giggled and stood there just a few seconds too long before moving on to fill someone else’s glass. Gideon wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and glanced around the yard.

Children of various ages sat in the grass with books or played quietly. Several little girls had what looked like a Noah’s Ark with tiny, wooden animals. Another girl, about ten or eleven, held the hand of a toddler who was dressed like Charley’s son, in white bonnet and gown. It was hard to remember that he was in Delaware, a long way from his home community. Although these were unfamiliar faces, and the hat and bonnet shapes were just a bit different, these could have been his neighbors and relatives.

Gideon felt at peace. He always felt good after Sunday services, and he enjoyed meeting and talking to people. Some Englishers thought that Amish life was severe and harsh, but he’d never believed that. So long as a man believed in the Word and followed the ordnung of his church, he was assured of salvation. What could one ask for but faith, family and community? When he considered how much he received every day, the hard work of living apart from the world was a small sacrifice.

The bishop rose from his seat, followed quickly by the older men. Gideon stood up and left the table as teams of teenage girls cleared away the dishes and glasses for the next seating. Charley and Eli stopped to speak to their host, Albert Hartman, and Gideon decided to walk back and take a look at the alpacas that Charley had mentioned.

As he left the farmyard and strolled past the line of buggies and tethered horses, the clamor of friendly voices and laughing children faded. Earlier, Charley had indicated the smaller of two barns. A pasture with a high fence ran behind it, and sure enough, Gideon caught sight of a group of animals grazing at the far end. He started toward them when someone called his name.

“Gideon! Wait up.”

He turned to see Addy walking toward him.

“I was waiting to get a chance to speak to you,” she said, as she drew closer. “To thank you for mending my dress.” She was, he had noticed earlier, wearing the lavender dress that he’d managed to rescue. “I thought Sara had done it, but Ellie said it was you.”

She looked uncertain, and he smiled at her. “No problem. My sisters taught me. Nine of us, and me the only boy. They weren’t too good at baseball, but...” He shrugged. “Not many men you know sew?”

Addy had nice hair, a soft brown with just a little hint of auburn. She was tall for a woman. He thought he could smell honeysuckle. Was there such a thing as honeysuckle shampoo, he wondered? She wasn’t what you’d call a pretty girl, but she had nice eyes and an intelligent face. Her kapp was spotless white and starched stiff. He knew how much work it took to make it just so. He’d watched his sisters ironing their kapps on many Saturday evenings and now imagined Addy standing at an ironing board, using an old-fashioned iron she heated on the woodstove.

“Not one,” she said.

He suddenly realized that he’d been daydreaming. “I’m sorry?”

“Not one man that I know can sew a tear so that you can hardly see it. I don’t think I could have done it so well myself. And you got the bloodstain out of the hem. Thank you. I thought the dress was ruined.”

“Well, it’s not,” he said. For a moment, she just stood there, and the silence stretched between them, not an uncomfortable quiet, but a reassuring one. He liked that. Addy might not have the fairest face he’d ever seen, but there was just something about her... “I guess you think I’m odd that way. That I know how to sew.”

“I think it’s wonderful.” She produced a carrot, went over to the fence and whistled. She waved the carrot, and the whole herd of alpacas trotted toward her. Carefully, she snapped the carrot into small pieces and tossed them to the eager animals.

Again, there was an easy stillness between them as he came over to stand beside her at the fence.

“I suppose you heard...” she said, breaking the silence. She grimaced. “My parents...they...” A flush spread over her face. “They asked Sara to find a husband for me.”

“And you don’t want them to do that?”

She dropped onto the grass, folding her long legs modestly under her skirt. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s...well, it’s embarrassing...telling everyone that I need help finding someone.” She tugged at a blade of grass, plucking first one and then another. “That, otherwise, I’ll be an old maid peeling potatoes in my mother’s kitchen when I’m sixty, with gray hairs on my chin.”

He chuckled. “Sounds pretty bad when you put it that way.”

She tugged at more blades of grass. “I figured you knew. Ellie does, for sure. Who knows who else does?”

“But you want to marry, don’t you?”

“I suppose, but I always thought I’d find my own husband. Or...” Her eyes glistened as if she might start to cry. “Or he’d find me.”

“Not everybody does it that way.” He sat down beside her in the grass. “Why do you think my father and mother sent me here? I could have found work as a hired man in our community. Or I could have gone on helping my father.”

“What does he do?”

“Makes sausage. Sells it to people.”

“ Ach . Sausage. Everybody likes sausage.”

“And it’s good sausage.” He smiled at her. “So what I’m trying to say is that you aren’t alone. My mam and dat and Ellie’s parents think like your mother and father. They’re trying to do a good thing. Because they love us and want us to be happy.”

“I suppose, but...” She tossed the grass through the fence to a young alpaca. “What if I don’t like who Sara picks for me?”

“Then you say no. ‘ Danke , Sara, but no.’ It’s easy.” He grinned. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

She turned to him with surprise. “You’ve turned down matches?”

“A handsome, hardworking man like me?” He winked. “I’ve escaped more pretty girls than you have fingers on both hands. If you think you’re hard to please, I’m impossible.”

“So we’re both being difficult,” Addy mused.

He plucked idly at the clover. “It seems that way.”

“My grossmama says that it’s pride that keeps me from finding a good marriage.” She looked at him. “Do you think it is?”

“Hochmut?” He thought for a moment. “I hope not,” he answered honestly. “I’d not want to think of myself as a prideful person. Hardheaded, maybe, but not full of a false sense of my own importance.”

“Goot,” Addy replied. “Because I wouldn’t want that, either.” She got to her feet and brushed off her skirts. “I have to go. My mother will wonder where I’ve gotten to. There’s bound to be cleaning up.”

He stood. “Should I come to help?”

She shook her head. “Women’s work, and not so hard as to break the rules of the Sabbath. Only dishes and food to clear away.”