The Amish Matchmaker's Choice
Author
Patricia Johns
Reads
17.0K
Chapters
15
Chapter One
Jake Knussli sat on the couch next to Bishop Glick, his palms damp. The windows were cranked open, letting in a whisper of breeze, and Jake adjusted his suspenders over his shoulders. It wasn’t just the hot July day that brought sweat to his brow. The bishop had an ulterior motive to suggesting the Draschel Bed and Breakfast for him to stay in while his uncle’s farmhouse was fumigated.
“So you need a wife,” Adel Draschel said. She looked as cool and neat as a spring day, and she regarded him with a distanced, thoughtful expression as if he were some unknown entity instead of someone she’d grown up with.
Adel was exactly his age, thirty-seven—they’d gone to school together in that one-room schoolhouse as kinner. The years had been kinder to her than they had been to him, he thought. With her soft figure and creamy skin, set off by auburn hair, tucked under a silky white kapp. There were a few lines around her eyes, but she looked more youthful than he did with the gray working its way into the stubble on his chin. Adel bent over a tray, pouring tea, one finger on the teapot’s lid to keep it in place.
“Yah, I do need a wife,” Jake replied.
“If Jacob is going to inherit that farm, then we have to find someone quickly,” Bishop Glick added, stroking his wiry salt-and-pepper beard with one hand.
“You mentioned it was rushed,” Adel said, passing a teacup to the bishop. “Why now? He’s been back for a few months now.”
“I needed to come back properly,” Jake said. “I had other things to worry about, like getting baptized.”
“How much time do we have now before the will runs out?” she asked.
“Two weeks,” the bishop replied.
Adel blew out a breath. “Two weeks!”
She turned that skeptical stare back onto Jake, and he suppressed the urge to squirm. He wasn’t asking her to marry him. The bishop thought she could act as matchmaker. Granted, it was a short period of time to secure a marriage match, but she didn’t need to look at him like it was quite that impossible, either.
Jake fiddled with one side of his suspenders across his shoulder where his shirt was getting damp from sweat. He was still wearing his straw hat, and he pulled it off his head and scrubbed a hand through his hair, which was still growing out that last bit from an Englisher style.
“What did the will say exactly?” Adel asked, politely and rather pointedly ignoring his attempt to smooth out his appearance.
“It said that if I was to inherit the family farm from Uncle Johannes,” Jake said, dropping his hat onto his knee, “then I needed to be both Amish again and married within six months of his death.”
“But why did Johannes do that?” she asked, shaking her head. “Do we know? He didn’t have any kinner of his own, and Jake, you are the logical one to inherit that land. I can understand asking that you be Amish again to inherit, but married, too? Why make it difficult?”
Jake exchanged a look with the bishop. He and Bishop Glick had discussed this for a couple of hours the night before. Why would Johannes have made those stipulations in his will? Because it felt like his uncle was being obstinate, even in death.
“I think he wanted to bring Jacob home,” Bishop Glick said. “And a home grows roots with marriage. I didn’t know the specifics of his will until after his death, but I did pray with him before his passing. Johannes knew his time was close, and he wanted to be right with Gott. He spoke about wanting to make up for past wrongs. Maybe this was an attempt to do just that.”
“If he wanted to make up for some wrongs, this setup seems to be creating a few new ones,” Adel said, and Jake smiled in response to her wry perspective.
The bishop took a sip of his tea but didn’t say anything.
“So if you aren’t legally married in two weeks, then what happens to the land?” Adel asked.
“It goes to my cousin Alphie,” Jake replied.
Adel leaned back in her chair, then she turned to the bishop. “And if we don’t find anyone for him to marry? What then?”
“Jacob?” the bishop said, turning toward him.
What choice would Jake have? He’d been quietly looking around ever since he returned, hoping to find someone the natural way, but it was harder than he thought. If his cousin Alphie was very kind, he might let Jake run the farm with him, since it would go to him if Jake’s quest to find a wife by the will’s deadline failed. But it would only ever be a job, not his own property in that case. Their family dynamic had been a difficult one—nowhere near the Amish ideals.
“If we can’t find me a wife, then I will thank you for trying and for the time you put into it, and I will accept that Gott has other plans,” Jake said.
Adel nodded somberly, exhaling slowly. “And what do you have to offer a wife, Jacob?”
Jake met her gaze, and he felt a smile tickling the corners of his lips.
“You’re acting like I’m a stranger, Adel. I used to pull your kapp strings when we were kinner. You know me.”
“I knew a boy,” Adel said, her cheeks pinking. “This is a grown man in front of me. And a little tease who used to pester us girls isn’t exactly going to recommend you to the marriageable women in our area.”
“Point taken,” he replied, sobering. “I’m a hard worker. I have a nice little nest egg in the bank, and if I’m married in time, you can add a paid-off farm to that. I’m in relatively good condition for my age, but you’d have to be judge of that.”
Adel looked away, annoyance flashing in her blue eyes, but he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t the stranger she was pretending he was.
“And I don’t drink, smoke or gamble,” he added.
“That’s a relief,” she replied wryly. “But for my own conscience, I need to ask a few questions. I hope you don’t mind.” Her gaze flickered toward the bishop.
“Go ahead,” Bishop Glick said.
Just for a moment, Adel’s perfect poise cracked, and he saw a flicker of the girl he used to know all those years ago—opinionated, fiery—and he felt a rush of satisfaction at finally getting through that prim-and-proper reserve of hers.
“Jacob, why are you back? Before, it seemed like you were ready to come home again.” Her cheeks flushed slightly. “But now I find out that there is a will involved that was pushing you to it. Are you back just for the land?”
Jake smiled faintly. “You think that’s the only reason I’m here?”
“Are you?” she asked.
“No, I’m not. I’d been thinking about coming home for a long time, but when my daet passed away, Uncle Johannes and I weren’t exactly on good terms. There were hard words between us, and there was always some reason or other to put it off another year.”
Alphie, who was actually a second cousin once removed, had filled him in on the continuing bitterness here at home whenever he got together with his cousin for a coffee. He’d known what was waiting for him.
“Will you stay Amish now?” she asked.
“Yah. I will stay living the Amish way. If I marry an Amish woman, I’m not going to leave the Amish life and I will stay on the farm I inherit, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s exactly what I’m asking.” She pressed her lips together and put her teacup down next to her. “If I set you up with someone, I need to be able to tell her that she can trust you to be a good and Amish husband.”
“I understand,” he said.
“That is a very big thing for me to tell a woman,” Adel said. “She would be taking my word that your character is marriageable within that short of a period of time. That is a lot to ask of me. She’d be well and truly married within a week upon my say-so.”
“It’s a big step,” he said seriously. “It’s a lot to ask of any woman. I do understand that.”
Adel sighed. “The bishop speaks for you, and that should be enough.” Somehow he got the sense that it wasn’t, though. “And I won’t be setting you up with anyone under twenty-five, for the record,” she added, giving him a pointed look.
“I’m not looking to marry someone that young,” Jake countered. “I’d much rather be with a woman closer to my own age.”
“Good, because a woman any younger than that has other prospects still,” Adel replied.
He felt the sting of those words. “Ouch.”
“Sorry.” Adel winced. “But asking someone to marry that quickly, she’d have to have good reason to be willing to take the risk. This is the rest of her life we’re talking about, and I’m afraid that a very young woman wouldn’t be able to fully understand what she was getting herself into. That would be...cruel.”
“I have to agree with that.” He met her gaze. Did she think he wanted some young eighteen-year-old? Because he didn’t. “And I’m not marrying just anyone, either. I have a few requirements on my list, too. But for a chance to have the family farm again, I’m willing to try to find a match.”
“Good. I’m glad you’ve been thinking about it,” she said. “What are you looking for?”
“We have to find each other mutually attractive,” he said. “Marriage is for life, and I want to wake up to a woman I find beautiful in spirit. And I want her to see something attractive in me, too.”
“A good point,” she said. “What else?”
“Like we agreed—no one too young, or too old, for that matter. I’d like a woman who is age appropriate for me. I’ll trust your opinion with that.”
“That’s fair. What else?”
“She has to be real,” he said.
Adel frowned.
“Authentic,” he clarified. “She has to be open and comfortable.”
“Okay.” Adel nodded. “Anything else? Are you looking for a good cook? Does it matter if she has children?”
“Uh—” He exhaled slowly. “I think it would depend on the woman.”
“Good.” Adel nodded. “It’s good that you’re staying here at my bed-and-breakfast, since it will make it easier for us to save time. My sister and I sleep here in the house, and the dawdie house is set up for our guests. You’ll be very comfortable.”
“I’m sure I will be,” he agreed.
“I’m going to pray on this,” Adel said. “And I’ll do my best.”
The bishop spread his hands. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, Adel. Perhaps He has something to achieve here. The Good Book does tell us that it isn’t good for a man to be alone. I think that we can extrapolate that it is the same for women. I do enjoy seeing people married for that very reason. Two are stronger than one.”
The bishop looked at Adel meaningfully, and her cheeks colored again. This conversation seemed to be expressly between the two of them. Obviously, it was a subject that had come up before.
“I have my sister here, Bishop,” she said with a good-humored smile. “I’m not alone, and I have no interest in getting married again. I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Of course.” The older man pushed himself back to his feet. “Call me sentimental, but I keep on trying to find you a match, Adel. I’ll consider myself a success when I finally do. Well, I will leave you to get your guest settled in. Thank you for helping, Adel. I trust your insight.”
Adel nodded. “As Mark used to say, some things take a man’s leadership, and others take a woman’s intuition.”
“He was a wise man.” The bishop and Adel both nodded soberly. Then the bishop headed for the door. “Jacob, I will leave you to Adel’s care. Let’s see what Gott provides. I’ll be praying, too.”
Everyone would be praying, it seemed, including Jake. While the main concern seemed to be for the poor woman who was stuck with him, Jake had the most at stake here. And they’d need all the blessing and guidance they could get. Jake rose to his feet and went to the door to grab his duffel bag that he’d left on the porch, waving to Bishop Glick as he headed back out to his buggy.
Then he turned back to Adel, who was still eyeing him with an uncertain look on her face, her cup of tea balanced on a saucer in front of her.
“Now that it’s just the two of us, you can be brutally honest with me,” he said. “What are my chances of finding a wife?”
“I have a few ideas.” A smile lifted the corners of her lips. “We’ll see what we can do.”
Adel heard the sound of the bishop’s buggy rolling back down the drive. Bishop Glick had been a good, personal friend of her late husband’s. The two men had discussed various community issues together, late into the night, and there were times that they’d called her in from the kitchen to get her perspective, as well.
“My wife is a discerning woman,” Mark used to say. “And she’s discreet. I’d like to hear what she thinks.”
After her husband’s death, the bishop still came to her from time to time, asking her opinion on issues that might relate to the women of their community, or the young people. Adel had married Mark when she was eighteen, and she hadn’t been a frivolous young woman at all. She’d prayed that Gott would use her, and His answer had been in her deacon husband. Gott hadn’t blessed them with kinner of their own, but Adel still felt needed and valued. The fact that Bishop Glick came to her for sensitive community issues like this one meant more to her than most people realized.
Adel gathered up the tea things to bring them back into the kitchen.
“Let me show you to your room, Jacob.”
“My friends call me Jake,” he said.
His friends...the Englisher ones? They’d never called him anything but Jacob here in Redemption. She stole another look at Jacob. He was tall, muscular, fit. His face was shaven, as was proper for a single Amish man, but she could make out the gray in the faint stubble on his chin. His face was tanned, and there were lines around his dark eyes that still held a certain playfulness that he’d retained since his youth. He was handsome—there, she’d just admitted it. But she wasn’t crossing any lines with him. She wouldn’t be calling him Jake.
“Your friends can call you anything they like, but your matchmaker calls you Jacob,” Adel replied.
Jacob laughed, the sound low and warm, and she felt goose bumps rise up on her arms at the sound of it. She cast him a faint smile and led the way into the kitchen with the platter. He followed her, his bag in one hand and his hat in the other, and when she placed the platter on the counter, she turned back toward him.
“This is the kitchen, obviously. I always keep some pie, muffins and a few other snacking foods on the counter. No need to ask, just eat what you like. My sister and I have meals ready for a seven o’clock breakfast, twelve noon lunch and a six o’clock dinner.”
“Thanks.” Jacob glanced around. “This will be very comfortable. I appreciate it.”
“Okay, well, let me take you through to your room, then.”
The dawdie house was actually an extension that had been built onto this home a few decades ago for Mark’s elderly parents, who lived there until their passing. It allowed the older people to maintain a little bit of privacy while letting the younger generation take over the main house. The Amish loved to keep family together, but they were also pragmatic about giving couples their own space. Turning the no-longer-used dawdie house into a room to rent had been Adel’s idea.
The dawdie house was connected to the main house on the other end of the kitchen, which was a convenient layout giving her and Naomi privacy upstairs, but also giving their guests full access to food when they were hungry. The kitchen was the center of any home.
She led him into the guest quarters, which included a small bedroom with wide windows that let in plenty of light, and a sitting room with its own stove for heat, not needed this time of year. Instead, she had the windows wide open to let in some fresh air. Naomi had left a few brochures on the bedside table for local activities that would be of interest to tourists, and Jacob picked them up, leafed through them, then quirked an eyebrow at her.
“I’m not exactly a tourist,” he said.
“We put them out for all our guests,” she replied. “That must have been Naomi. She wasn’t thinking.”
Adel ran the bed-and-breakfast with her unmarried sister, and they’d grown much closer over the last few years.
“I am sorry about your uncle,” she added. “He would have been like a father to you after your own daet died.”
“He would have been if he cared to be,” Jacob replied. “He and Daet never did get along. Nothing like you and Naomi do, it seems.”
“Oh, Naomi and I disagree sometimes, too,” Adel said. In fact, she and her sister were very different. Naomi was a plump, smiling woman who thought that Adel was far too serious. If Naomi were left to her own devices, she’d have turned them into New Order Amish within a year, just by concessions and bright new ideas.
“So why do you refuse to get married again?” Jacob asked.
Adel shot him a wry smile. “I am not on your list of potential wives, you know.”
“I would never ask you to lower yourself,” he said with a teasing grin in return. “I’m curious, though.”
“I’ve already been married,” she replied.
“That’s all?” he asked.
“That’s all.” That was all she was willing to tell him, at least. When a woman married, she took on her husband’s station in life. She was his helpmeet, and through her marriage to Mark, she’d found her place in this community, and she was deeply satisfied with it. Besides, well-respected widowers weren’t in such common supply as many a single woman might wish.
“Why didn’t Naomi marry?” he asked.
“She’s one of the Good Apples.” It was the kind way of saying that she’d been passed over in the marriage market. She was too high on the tree, and while she was wonderful, no one had been able to reach her. That was how they put it delicately.
“Hmm.” Jacob nodded.
“And you?” she asked. “You’re not a young man anymore, and you’re not married, either.”
Jacob shrugged. “I was far from home. I wasn’t going to marry a girl without a kapp and apron, was I?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “You didn’t come back... You might have wanted to settle down in your Englisher life.”
Jacob grew more serious. “I might have, too, if I’d met the right woman. But I never did. It’s hard to find someone who truly understands you when you’re Amish born and they’re...not.”
“Yah, I could see that,” she agreed.
But he had stayed far from home for a very long time, and that was worrisome. At any point, he could have come back. Would a marriage be enough to keep him here?
Outside, Adel heard the clop of horses’ hooves, and she leaned to look out the window. Naomi was back with the groceries, and her curly red hair was coming loose from her kapp like it always seemed to do.
“That’s my sister,” Adel said. “I’ll let you settle in. Come into the kitchen when you’re ready for something to eat.”
“Thank you.”
Adel headed out of his room and closed the door behind her. She let out a little shaky breath, and then headed across the kitchen to the side door to go out and help her sister unhitch the horses. There were no specific men’s jobs here—there were no men around to do them.
“How was shopping?” Adel asked as she met Naomi at the horse’s side.
“The price of flour went up again,” Naomi said. “And the price of sugar.”
“It never seems to stop,” Adel said. She remembered when Mark used to take care of the money, and Adel hadn’t ever worried about the rising prices. What a burden he’d carried all that time, and she’d never known.
“Is he here?” Naomi asked, looking toward the house. She didn’t need to specify whom she meant.
“Yah, the bishop just left,” Adel replied. “Jacob is settling in.” She cast her sister a look. “Why did you leave brochures in his room? He’s not here as a tourist.”
“I don’t know,” Naomi said with a twinkle in her eye. “He almost feels like one, he’s been gone so long.”
Adel chuckled. “Well, he’s here now, and I’ve agreed to help find him a wife.”
They worked quickly together unhitching the horses, unbuckling straps and easing the horses out of their tack to send them loose into the field to graze. The sun shone off their glossy backs, and the animals tossed their heads in enjoyment of their freedom.
Naomi opened the gate, and Adel patted their sides to encourage them to head through. They didn’t need the encouragement.
Naomi pushed the gate shut again. “I’m just as single as the rest, and a paid-off farm is rather enticing.”
“You aren’t actually considering marrying Jacob!” Adel said.
“He’s a nice-looking man...” Naomi glanced toward the house again and Adel rolled her eyes. “What?”
“Jacob is a risk!” Adel said, lowering her voice. “A big one. He went to the city to work, and just never came back. He wouldn’t have come back, either, if it weren’t for this inheritance. He’d still be living English. He isn’t here because he believes that the Amish life is the best one, because actions speak louder than words. He’s back for the land—a personal connection to it or not, that’s why he’s here.”
“Did he say that in so many words?” Naomi asked.
“Not in so many, but...” Adel sighed. “I admit, I do think he’s got good intentions. Don’t get me wrong. If he marries an Amish woman, he knows what that means, but will an Amish life ultimately make him happy? What happens if he gets bored of farm life and decides to go back to the city? Would you go with him? Or would you stay on your own and run a farm without him? He might be back, but I’m not so sure that he’ll even stay. Good intentions only go so far.”
Naomi nodded. “I know, I know. How long do you have to find him a wife?”
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Naomi shook her head.
They headed around to the back of the buggy to get their groceries, and stopped in the shade that it cast.
“You don’t sound like you think he’s worth marrying,” Naomi said.
Adel was silent for a moment. “The bishop thinks he’s back for good.”
“But what do you think?” Naomi pressed. “Because if you’re going to sit down with one of our friends and neighbors and tell her that she should take lifelong vows to Jacob Knussli, then you’d better believe he’s worth the rest of her life, because I know you. You’re honest to a fault, Adel. To a fault.”
“I don’t take the trust of our community lightly,” Adel said. “People look to me to give them the honest truth, and I don’t play with that.”
Her position in the community wasn’t one of a widow looking for a husband. Mark had left her enough money to continue supporting herself, so she didn’t have that kind of desperation. And while her husband had passed, people still looked to her for the same insight and advice that she’d provided while he was alive. Their trust was sacred.
“Which is all fine and good,” Naomi replied, “but you’re not going to succeed in finding him a wife unless you can find something redeemable in him yourself.”
Adel let out a slow breath. Her sister was right. She couldn’t warn Naomi off him and then foist him on some other unsuspecting woman in their community. The bishop thought that Jacob would stay, but men didn’t always have the same insight that women did. Sometimes they were downright blind to the true state of things.
“What do I do?” Adel asked.
Naomi picked up a bag of white sugar and eased it into Adel’s arms. “You’ll have to spend some time with him.”
That was the logical conclusion, of course.
Adel waited while Naomi picked up the bag of flour, and together they headed toward the side door. Adel had her work cut out for her.
