A Husband For Mari (The Amish Matchmaker 2) (10 page)

“Seems like you’ve settled in fast. Thomas mentioned to me that Gideon told him you were a great worker.” He picked up a box of crackers from beside the register, looked at them and put them back. “I was wondering if you’d like a ride home to Sara’s.”

She looked up from the register at him in surprise. “That’s nice of you to offer. I was going to take the van. They leave in half an hour.” She gave him the total of his purchase.

James slid bills across the counter. “I know you can ride home with them, but I’m saying you should ride home with me. I have to stop at Byler’s store, for Mattie. And Sara wants half-and-half for something, so I have to go by there on the way home anyway.” He reached for the pork chops. “I figured you might like to go. You said you were getting your first paycheck.”

“I don’t know.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Zachary might wonder where I am if I’m late,” she said, although she really did want to go. To pick up a few things, of course. Not just so she could ride home with James.

“Funny you should say that because Sara said to remind you that Zachary and Ellie would be late this afternoon. Something about an errand at Johanna and Roland’s. So you don’t need to worry about him.”

“You told Sara you were picking me up?” she asked.

“I told her I was going to ask you.”

Mari stood there, not sure what to do. She did want to buy deodorant and shampoo, and this would be the perfect opportunity. If she went with James now, she wouldn’t have to try to catch a ride into town with someone in their neighborhood tomorrow.

Byler’s was a Mennonite country store that had started out as a discount grocery and had grown to include kitchen goods, fruits and vegetables, frozen food and cold cuts. It was as large as many English chain groceries, and the prices were reasonable. Best of all, it was only two miles from the butcher shop.

James tucked the packet of chops under his arm. “Come on. You know you want to go. What’s wrong with taking a ride from a friend?”

“Nothing, I suppose. Not a thing wrong with it,” she said when she met his reassuring gaze. “But I have something I have to finish in the office. Can you wait ten minutes?”

He smiled. “And not five minutes longer.”

She grimaced as she pulled off her apron and hurried toward the back to close out the last order of the day. “You’ve found my weakness,” she called over her shoulder. “I tend to run late.”

“Not for Byler’s tonight, we don’t. You run late and you’ll miss your chance for me to buy you one of the best ice-cream cones in the county. They close at six o’clock in the winter, and it will be mobbed the last half hour.”

They arrived at the store a little after five o’clock, and it was packed. The English shoppers, mostly senior citizens, outnumbered the Amish three to one, but she saw plenty of Mennonite and Amish families shopping. There was even a young Amish father shopping alone with an adorable little pigtailed girl in his cart and a four-year-old boy walking beside him. The girl wore a blue dress, black stockings and black boots, and a tight-fitting white baby
kapp
, while the boy was an exact copy of his father. Mari couldn’t resist, and she waved and said hi
in
Deitsch
. Shyly, the small boy hid his face in his father’s pant leg, but his sister smiled and waved back.

James gave her a quick tour of the store; then they went their separate ways so he could pick up the spices and the raw sugar Mattie had requested. Mari grabbed what she needed and met him at the registers. By the time she got there, he had just paid for his items.

“I’ll run these out and get our ice-cream cones—before they close,” he told her.

“It’s all right—we don’t need ice cream. We’ll spoil our supper,” she teased, pushing her little cart forward in the checkout line.

“Never. It’s like an appetizer,” he insisted, tugging the brim of his black hat down. “And I already paid for them. Meet you right here in a couple of minutes.” He backed away from her toward the door. “What flavor would you like?”

“Surprise me,” she replied and shook her head, laughing as he hurried out the door.

A short time later James met her at the front of the store with two huge ice-cream cones. “That’s more ice cream than we can possibly eat,” she told him, unable to stop smiling.

“Bet it’s not. Chocolate mint chip or butter pecan?” He held out the cones for her to choose.

It took her a second to decide because she loved both. “Chocolate mint chip,” she declared.

He handed her the cone. “Want me to take your bag?”

“No, I’m fine.” She found the ice cream to be every bit as creamy and delicious as he had described it on the way over.

“We can sit at one of those picnic tables,” he told her, leading the way to a small eating area that was set up at the front of the store.

“That’s fine.” She followed him.

“And then we’ll head home.”

“Thank you,” she said between bites when they were seated across from each other at one of the tables. “This is delicious.” She was so glad that she’d come. Being with James was fun, and she found him so easy to talk to. She felt as if she could be herself with him. He made her comfortable with who she was, the good and the bad. “Be certain to tell Mattie how much I enjoyed her meal,” she reminded him.

“I will. You know, she really likes you,” he said. Then it seemed as if he wanted to say something more.

She took another lick of her cone and reached for the napkin holder in the center of the table. “But?”

He exhaled. “I probably shouldn’t even say this but... I feel like we can tell each other anything. I mean, I know we haven’t known each other long, but—”

“But I get you. And you get me,” she dared, not knowing what made her so bold to say such a thing. After all, they really
hadn’t
known each other long. And what’s more, their friendship wasn’t typical. Amish men weren’t usually friends with English women. They didn’t shop or sit down to eat ice cream together. She passed him one of the napkins. “Tell me what Mattie said.”

He exhaled. “She’s worried that you could be a bad influence on me. Actually, I think she’s worried that we’ll be a bad influence on each other.”

Mari frowned. “How?”

“I don’t know. I’m not saying it makes sense. It’s just what she said. She thinks that my being friends with you will make me want to return to the English world.”

Mari thought for a moment before responding. It was upsetting to think that Mattie was concerned about her friendship with James, but she was glad he had told her. She could tell that it had been weighing on his mind. “Do I make you wish you were English again?”

He gave her a little smirk that made him look younger than he was. “Not hardly. I’ve had my fill of pickup trucks and wide-screen TVs. I belong in these clothes.” He indicated his hat and denim coat. “Driving that buggy.” He pointed to Jericho waiting patiently in the parking lot.

“James, I don’t want to cause trouble between you and your sister,” she said. “And it’s certainly not my intention to convince anyone to leave Seven Poplars. I mean, I’m the one who came here from the big, bad world, and I have to admit, the change has been really nice. I like my life at Sara’s and I like Seven Poplars.” Certainly better than the life she’d had in Wisconsin.

“I told Mattie that.”

She thought again for a minute. She was down to the crunchy cone now. “You said she thought we were a bad influence on each other, but you’re definitely not a bad influence on me.” She hesitated. “You know, I think I went to church Sunday mostly because
you
wanted me to.” She smiled. “But I’m so glad I did.”

“I’m glad you came, too. Now, I don’t want you to turn into a worrier. I told my sister that I choose my own friends and I meant it.”

Mari picked up her napkins and wiped her mouth, trying to ignore the small twinge of disappointment. James had used that word again.
Friend.

“James?” A tall, angular woman in a black dress and bonnet walked out of the checkout area. “I’m surprised to see you here at this time of the day. Cut out early, didn’t you?” She was speaking to James but staring at Mari.

Mari recognized her as Gideon’s mother-in-law, Martha.

“And Mari Troyer. I’m surprised to see you here.” Her voice was as grating as fingernails across a blackboard. “Is Sara with you?”

Mari could tell by the woman’s tone of voice that she knew very well that Sara wasn’t with them. “She’s not,” Mari managed.

“Ellie?” Martha demanded.

James shook his head, finishing up his ice-cream cone and wiping his mouth with one of the napkins Mari had given him. “Afraid not.”

Martha pursed her lips. “So you’re here together? Unchaperoned?”

James chuckled. “Guilty, Martha.”

Martha frowned, unfazed by James’s charm. “You haven’t been in Seven Poplars long, Mari,” she said, turning to her again. “Not long at all. And I don’t know what kind of rules you had in Wisconsin. But here, it’s best if a young woman doesn’t give others a reason to question her behavior.” She glanced back at James. “Unless the two of you are courting and I haven’t heard?”

She raised her eyebrows at James, and Mari was surprised when he didn’t answer.

“Well,” Martha huffed. Then she cleared her throat. “You know, Mari, some may think I’m a gossip, but I’m not. I’m just a woman who likes to speak her mind. So I’m coming right out and asking.” She looked at James again. “Are you two walking out together?”

James got to his feet. “We’re just buying groceries, Martha. I was coming to Byler’s, and Mari needed a ride. The most scandalous thing we’ve done is eat ice cream before supper. But thank you for your concern.” He balled up his napkin and tossed it in a trash can.

Martha drew herself up to her full height, and her eyes narrowed. “No need to get snippy with me, young man. I’m simply trying to point out to Mari that it’s easy for a girl to be talked about. And Seven Poplars is not Hollywood.”

Not sure what to say, Mari said nothing. She didn’t want to get James in trouble. Martha held up her hand as if making a proclamation. “Enough said. Next time you’ll know better. I’m surprised that Sara didn’t have the sense to explain these things to you, Mari. But James certainly should have known better.” She turned her censorious gaze on him. Then with a final sniff, Martha grabbed her shopping cart and walked out the doors to the parking lot.

Mari looked at James and saw that he was pressing his lips tightly together to keep from laughing out loud. “Shh,” she warned. Then she giggled. It really wasn’t funny. Martha would tell everyone she knew, and probably people she didn’t, that she had seen Mari and James having ice cream alone together. But seeing James laugh made it hard for Mari not to laugh.

Her groceries in one arm, he tugged on her coat sleeve and led her outside and around to where they’d left Jericho and the buggy parked.

“Stop laughing,” she told him under his breath. “She’ll tell Mattie, and then you’ll be in trouble.”

“I won’t be in trouble.” He took her hand to help her up into the buggy and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “But
you
certainly will be,” he teased.

She sat down on the buggy seat, but he was still holding her hand. He leaned in so no one walking past them could overhear. “You’re the one leading me astray, remember? First you sold me pork chops, unchaperoned, and now this.”

Mari looked down at James and was so overwhelmed by the feel of his hand and his closeness that she suddenly felt dizzy. And happy. And guilty and scared and bold, all at the same time. “Get in the buggy,” she whispered. “Before she comes back and insists on riding home with us.”

He took one look at her and burst into laughter. She pushed him away playfully. “Get in the buggy.”

He put her bag in the back and climbed up onto the seat beside her. As he picked up the reins, he leaned close to Mari and said, with a straight face, “Seven Poplars is
not
Hollywood.”

And then they both burst out laughing.

“Seriously,” James said as he guided his horse out onto the roadway. “Don’t let her upset you. Like I told you before, it may not seem like it, but Martha means well. And until you’ve been properly chastised by Martha, you haven’t really become part of the community.”

Mari wiped away the tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, liking the idea that he now considered her part of his community. “Are we really supposed to be chaperoned to ride to the grocery store?”

“Only in Martha’s mind. Neither of us is sixteen. And you’re not even Amish. Of course if we
were
courting—” he looked at her “—I suppose we’d have to follow at least some of the rules.”

Mari suddenly felt self-conscious and pretended to be absorbed in rewrapping her wool scarf. She couldn’t tell if James was being serious or not. And, worse, she didn’t know which she preferred.

Chapter Nine

W
hen Mari climbed out of the van Friday afternoon, she was so excited that she didn’t mind splashing through the half thawed, half frozen muddy yard to reach Sara’s back door. She removed her coat and boots, left them in the utility room and hurried to find her son.

Ellie and Sara were in the kitchen making supper, and she gave them a hearty greeting. “Good news on the school situation,” Mari announced. “I can’t believe it. Zachary’s records finally arrived. The school called me at work. I can take him in Monday morning and enroll him.”

“I know you’re relieved.” Ellie’s enthusiasm was lackluster. “But I’ll miss him, and I know his friends at our school will miss having him there.” She went back to peeling potatoes.

Sara laid down her rolling pin, brushed flour off her apron and offered a polite smile. “Good news, indeed.”

“Where is Zachary?” Mari glanced around. The sound of hammering came from the other end of the house, and she knew the answer. “I suppose he’s trailing James around again?”

“Lots done today,” Sara observed. “The plumber hooked up the water in the bathrooms, and James’s crew is going to start on the drywall on Monday. It won’t be long before they’ll be moving on to a new job. I’ll be glad to have it done, but I have to admit, I’ll miss the crew.”

“I think we all will,” Ellie said, eyeing Mari, a certain sparkle in her eyes. “Some more than others.”

Mari looked at Sara and then back at Ellie. “You mean me?”

Now Ellie was grinning. “Guess who stopped by during lunch today to drop off a donation of spiral notebooks and pencils?”

Mari shook her head, but she could feel her cheeks getting warm. She had a feeling she knew what Ellie was going to say.

“Martha Coblenz.”

“That was nice of Martha to donate to the school,” Mari said.

“Sure was.” Ellie turned to her, a potato in one hand, a peeler in the other. “She told me a crazy story about running into a couple at Byler’s store. A couple who she felt should have had a chaperone. She took me to task for not being there.”

“Why would Martha—” Mari clasped her hands together. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble. James and I, we just...” She stopped and started again. She knew her entire face must be bright red. She really didn’t feel as if she and James had done anything wrong. It wasn’t as if they had been holding hands. Then she remembered him helping her into his buggy and holding her hand as he’d whispered to her and her face got warmer. “He gave me a ride home and his sister needed sugar and—”

Ellie laughed. “It’s all right, Mari. I’m just teasing you. Actually, I’m pleased you and James caught Martha’s attention. She brought me so many new pencils that every student in the school got two.”

“Poor Martha.” Sara sighed. “Now that Addy’s happily married and out of the house, she’s looking for people to fuss with.”

Mari looked to Sara. “We didn’t do anything wrong, did we?”

Sara shook her head. “You’re not teenagers. So long as you behave yourselves and don’t do anything couples have been known to do, there’s nothing wrong with riding with James in his buggy or getting me half-and-half at Byler’s.” She took a sharp knife and began to cut the dough on the table into long strips. “We do like to keep an eye on young folks courting, just because... Well, as my grandmother used to say, little lambs will play. But both of you are nearly thirty. I think you know what’s acceptable and what’s not.”

Mari lowered her voice, afraid James or one of the other men might hear her. “But we’re not a couple.”

“Of course you’re not, dear.” Sara didn’t look up. “You should probably tell Zachary the good news and let him know it will soon be time to wash up for supper.”

“Tell Zach we’re having one of his favorites, chicken and slippery dumplings,” Ellie called after her.

Mari found her son halfway up the staircase of the new addition, holding a can of nails for James. “Hi there,” she said. She leaned down and kissed the crown of his head.

Zachary made a face, but his protest was only halfhearted. “Aw, Mom. Not in front of the guys.”

James turned his face away, but she caught the hint of a mischievous smile. “You look as though you had a good day,” he said. His words came out slightly garbled because he was holding several finishing nails between his lips. He set one in place and drove it home with several well-placed blows of his hammer. Above the step where he was working, unfinished planks had provided a way up and down for the workmen, but now that the addition was almost done, he was replacing them with furniture-grade oak.

“I did have a good day.” Mari looked up at him. “The stair treads are beautiful. Almost too pretty to walk on.”

“I was fortunate that Sara had some oak left over from her hospitality barn project. Wide boards. They’re hard to find anymore because most of the old growth timber was cut years ago. But the grain on this is beautiful.” He ran his fingertips lovingly across the surface of the stair tread he was nailing in place. Without being asked, Zachary held out three more nails. James nailed them in place, one after another. Then he stood and rubbed the small of his back. “We had a good day, too, didn’t we, Zachary? After he got home from school, he did some sweeping for me and now we’ve got this staircase project.”

“See what James is doing, Mom? He’s sinking the nails, and he’ll fill the holes with wooden pegs. And when you stain and varnish it, they’ll show up in a different shade and look cool.”

“I see,” she said. “I’m sure they will. And I have something cool to share with you, too. Your school records have arrived, so Monday morning you start at the new elementary school.”

Zachary frowned. “Mom, we need to talk.” He looked down. “I’ve thought about it and...I don’t want to go to that school.”

“Zachary, we talked about this. You have to go to school. You’re too young to join James’s work crew.”

He glanced at James. “Yeah, James and me, we talked about that. I understand I have to go to school. I just don’t want to go to that English school. I like Ellie’s school. I don’t want to leave my friends.”

“Zachary.” She exhaled in exasperation. He was wearing a blue hand-sewn Amish shirt and suspenders, much like the clothing that James and the other men were wearing. First he’d starting wearing Amish pants because they had better pockets. Then James had bought him a pair of work boots, just for on the job. Now Mari couldn’t remember the last time she saw him in one of his own sweatshirts. She wasn’t even sure where he’d gotten the pale green long-sleeved shirt he was wearing today. Sara, maybe. “I don’t know what to say.”

James began to hammer another nail down.

Zachary dropped down a step. “Mom, please? I really like Ellie’s school.”

She leaned on the rail. Never in a hundred years had she been expecting
this
conversation. A week ago, he hadn’t wanted to go with Ellie for the day. Now he was talking about attending full-time? “Honey, you can’t really go there. It’s just for Amish children. Parents pay for their children to attend.”

“But Ellie’s the best teacher I’ve ever had.” Zachary looked up at her with hopeful eyes. “I really like it there. Ellie explains stuff when I don’t understand it. And the fourth grade is doing harder math than I was doing at my old school. It’s fun. And I got a B on my test today.”

“You took a test?”

Zachary nodded. “Yeah, and I got a B and I even helped Dora. She’s in the fourth grade, but she’s only doing third-grade multiplication. Ellie says it’s okay if I help her with something if she needs it. Ellie says kids learn at different speeds.”

“So you haven’t just been helping Ellie?” she asked. “You’re actually doing the lessons?”

“You’re not mad, are you?” Zachary looked down at his dirty palms. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d be mad. It’s pretty neat, for school. At lunchtime we play games and do stuff together. And I get to carry in wood for the stove. They’ve got a woodstove right in the middle of the school. When you come in and your feet are cold, you prop them up on the railing and it’s really toasty. And Ellie has cocoa on the stove. Anybody can have it. But only one cup a day because too much chocolate is bad for your teeth.”

Mari sighed, glancing over her shoulder. “It sounds as if Ellie and I need to have a talk.”

“Maybe you could ask her if I could stay?” Zachary begged. “It’s so much fun there. The guys are neat, and nobody makes fun of anyone.”

Mari pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen from her scarf. This was one of the hardest things about being a single parent—trying to do what was right with no one to talk to. She glanced up at James, who was now sitting on a step looking down at her. “What do
you
think?” she asked.

“It sounds to me as though you and Ellie do need to talk,” James said. “And she would need to discuss it with the school board, but...Zach does seem to be doing well.”

“You don’t think I should send him to the school in Dover?”

“I think you should follow your instincts,” James said softly, holding her gaze.

For a moment, Mari felt as if it were just the two of them alone. Just her and James. They weren’t touching; he was four steps above her. But she felt as though he were resting his hand on her shoulder.

“My instincts,” she repeated softly.

Zachary looked at her, then at James and then at her again. “So, it’s okay? I can stay at Ellie’s school?” he asked.

“I’ll think about it. Maybe...” She lowered her gaze to her son again. “Maybe it might be the best thing, letting you finish out the year with Ellie. And then we can talk about starting at the public school in the fall. Especially if you can keep up with the fourth-grade work and be able to go on to the fifth in September. What do you think, James?” She looked up at him again.

“I think it might be a good solution,” he replied, gathering his hammer and the can of nails. “I guess I’d best be getting on home. Mattie will have supper started, and I’ve got the cow to milk before we eat.”

“Can I go tell Ellie?” Zachary asked her. “Not that I can definitely go to her school, but that you’re going to think about it? I know she’d be happy to talk to you.”

Mari sighed and smiled. He looked so happy. “Go talk to her, but the three of us are going to sit down together and have a talk, too.”

She and James watched Zachary bound down the stairs and out of the addition into the main house.

Mari turned back to James, who was still standing on the staircase above her. “Thank you, James.”

“No need to thank me,” he assured her, coming down the steps. “It’s always good when people who care about each other can talk things out.”

She headed down ahead of him.

“Are you going to the birthday supper for Hannah’s mother-in-law tomorrow?” James asked.

“Sure am. Anna stopped by the butcher shop and invited us all to come. I don’t think Sara can make it, but Zachary and I can walk.”

“Thomas said he’s taking Ellie. Mattie and I and the kids are going. We’d be glad to have you and Zachary ride with us.”

“Are you certain we’ll all fit in your buggy?”

He grinned. “The more the merrier. Besides, if you come along, I won’t have to drive with one of the twins in my lap. You can hold him.”

She laughed with him. “I’d be glad to come with you,” she said. And then she just stood there for a moment looking at him.
He’s the best friend I’ve ever had
, she thought.
Better than any man I’ve ever known. I trust him to do what he says he’ll do. And he’s been so good to Zachary.

“Good,” James said.

She started to turn away, then looked back at him. “Oh, I almost forgot. Guess who paid Ellie a visit today to tell her about her trip to Byler’s Wednesday?”

“Martha.” James chuckled. “I knew it.”

“James, she thinks we’re dating. One of us is going to have to say something to her.”

He hung his hammer on his belt. “Why’s that?”

“Because she’s going to tell people we’re...you know. Courting. And—”

“And we’re not,” he said softly. Then he met her gaze and held it.

It was a strange moment, standing there in the addition, alone, her looking at him, him looking at her. As if there was something else to be said, but she couldn’t think what it could be.

“See you tomorrow, James,” she finally said, making herself walk away.

“See you tomorrow, Mari.”

* * *

Sara sat at the desk in her office off the living room going over the letter of a young woman from an Amish community in Wisconsin. Sara prided herself on making marriages in difficult cases, but this one in particular was going to be a challenge. The contact had come from the girl herself, which was unusual since she lived with her parents. Usually a close member of the family initiated the arrangements. In this case, there was a serious medical problem, one that might be inherited by future children.

The obvious solution would be to arrange a union with an older widower who already had children. But the writer stated plainly that she wanted to have a child and would only consider a husband who accepted the possibility of a child with health issues and was willing to leave the outcome to the Lord. Sara wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Was the young woman being selfish and irresponsible? It was an issue Sara felt she needed to pray on and maybe seek the advice of Bishop Atlee or possibly their preacher, Caleb Wittner.

A hesitant knock sounded at the door. Sara folded the letter, put it back into the envelope and slid it into her desk drawer.
“Ya?”

The door opened slowly, and Sara saw Zachary standing there. “Ready, are you?” she asked.

The evening before, he’d asked her for an appointment. “It’s important,” the boy had whispered. “Don’t tell anybody. It’s
confidential
.”

“Well, come in,” she said, her curiosity piqued. “And close the door behind you.”

Zachary’s features were set in a serious expression, and for a moment she wondered if he’d gotten into some mischief and was trying to fess up. But as his attire registered, Sara realized that it was something else. Zachary had slicked back his unruly hair and put on the Sunday go-to-meeting white shirt and black coat she’d dug up for him. He was still wearing jeans, but she remembered that Mari had thrown Zachary’s good pants into the wash that morning on her way out the door to do her Saturday-morning shift. The boy was carrying a quart canning jar with what appeared to be dollar bills stuffed inside.