Her Forbidden Christmas Match
Author
Emma Miller
Reads
18,0K
Chapters
15
Chapter One
“Hire a matchmaker?” Willa Koffman turned to her oldest sister, annoyed. “You want me to hire a matchmaker?” The idea was ridiculous. Who hired a matchmaker except those who couldn’t find a husband on their own? Willa was not that kind of girl.
Willa and Eleanor stood in the kitchen of their family’s general store making dough for Christmas cookies. The store sold all sorts of household items for Amish and English customers, but their homemade soups, casseroles and baked goods flew off the shelves faster than they could make them. With the holidays fast approaching, it wasn’t too soon to bake cookies to freeze.
“A matchmaker for Willa!” Jane, the youngest of the seven Koffman sisters, entered the kitchen laughing, a basket of fresh eggs in her hand. “That’s insulting, Ellie. She’s the prettiest girl in Honeycomb. Any boy in the county would walk out with her.”
Willa added a scoop of white chocolate chips to the cowboy cookie recipe she was trying. “Danki, Jane,” she said, appreciating her sister’s support.
Eleanor planted a hand on her hip, looking more like their late mother every day. Eleanor was taller than their dat, as their mam had been, and had a commanding way about her.
“Ya, everyone wants to take her home from a singing or for a buggy ride,” Eleanor acknowledged. “But do any of them want to marry her? That’s the question.” She turned back to Willa. “I’m sorry. It’s not my intention to be unkind, but it’s true. You’re twenty-four years old, nearly twenty-five. You’ve dated every eligible man in the county without a single marriage proposal. Not one.” She held up a finger to emphasize her point.
“I got close with Enoch,” Willa reminded, still irritated.
“And you sent him packing.” Eleanor pursed her lips. “His aunt told me you broke his heart.”
Willa drew back. “We only went out three times. How could I have broken his heart? Enoch is good-looking and nice enough, but I couldn’t see spending the rest of my life with him.” She dumped a bag of shredded coconut into the mixing bowl. “He sniffed a lot.”
Jane set the eggs on the end of the counter near the double ovens and unwound a wool scarf. “I didn’t like Enoch. I don’t care how many delis his parents own in Lancaster.” She slipped out of her coat. “Willa’s right. He did sniff all the time. He said he had allergies, but who has—”
“Jane,” Eleanor interrupted, setting down the knife she’d been using to cut off portions of sweet yellow butter. “Thank you for bringing more eggs from the henhouse, but Willa and I are trying to talk privately. Would you check the woodstove out front?”
Jane cut her eyes at Willa as if asking if she needed further moral support.
Willa couldn’t help but admire the ease with which Jane went up against Eleanor. She tilted her head toward the sales floor where they had the big woodstove. Even though it was nearly November, they’d started their holiday hours and would be opening for the day in a few minutes. “I’m fine. Stoke the fire. It’s not expected to get much above freezing for the next few days.”
Jane harrumphed and left the room.
Eleanor began cracking eggs into a glass bowl, tossing the shells into a compost bucket. “I’m serious, Willa,” she said softly. “Your method of finding a husband obviously isn’t working. You’ve walked out with plenty of nice boys who could have been good options.”
“No one I’ve dated has been right for me.” Willa used a wooden spoon to fold the ingredients in the bowl.
“Because you don’t want them to be. You self-sabotage before anyone gets a chance.”
That comment made Willa angry. She did no such thing. “What right do you have to tell me I need to hurry up and find a husband? You’re twenty-eight years old. I don’t see you with any offers of marriage.” The moment the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. Even though Eleanor was wrong about why no one would want to marry her, she knew her sister’s decision had to be painful even if she wouldn’t admit it.
Eleanor flashed her a warning glance. That subject was not one her big sister was willing to discuss. As far as Ellie was concerned, she was already an old maid and always would be. Their eldest sister had it in her head that no one would ever marry her because she’d had her leg amputated below the knee as a child due to a birth defect. But she wore regular shoes. Her prosthetic looked no different from her other leg beneath the skirt of her dress.
“I think it’s time we call on Sara Yoder,” Eleanor continued. “Mothers from Ohio, Indiana, Wisconsin and all over the United States send their sons and daughters here to find spouses. Sara had more matches than she could count last year, and every one of those couples is now happily married.”
Willa added a bag of dark chocolate chunks to her bowl. She was tired of this conversation and of being reminded that her sisters Millie, Beth, Cora and Henry had successfully found husbands. “Who says I even want to get married?” she argued. She did want to marry, and was disappointed that she hadn’t found the right man yet, but it galled her that Eleanor was making it sound like it was all her doing. As if something made men want her as a girlfriend on their arms but never saw her as a potential wife. It wasn’t her fault that everyone thought she was so pretty. Gott had made her this way.
“Not want to get married?” Eleanor scoffed. “Of course you want to get married! Every Amish girl wants to marry.”
Except you, Willa thought but didn’t say it out loud. There was no telling how badly Eleanor would react. Willa knew Ellie was under a lot of pressure. She had too many responsibilities between running the store, overseeing the care of their father, who had dementia, and trying to help her best friend’s now-widowed husband care for his children. However, this morning Willa was struggling to have patience with her sister.
Movement outside the kitchen window caught Willa’s eye and she watched a blue car with one red door pull in behind the building. She didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t a delivery for the store and couldn’t be an English customer because they parked in the gravel lot out front. A man with dark hair and a short, scraggly beard was driving.
“It’s your duty to be a wife and a mother,” Eleanor continued. “Every Amish woman is expected to marry. It’s Gott’s will that—”
“Who do we know in a blue car with a red door?” Willa interrupted.
“What?”
Willa watched the car lurch to a stop. “Blue car, red passenger door. A man just parked out back like he’s supposed to be here.”
Eleanor glanced out the window. “Who knows? Maybe Jack’s new hire?”
“What new hire?”
Eleanor waved in dismissal. “I thought I told everyone. Jessop Raber asked Jack to hire one of his relatives as a favor. The man’s a cousin or maybe a nephew. I can’t remember.”
Willa’s brow creased. “Jessop has Englisher relatives?” Jessop and Sissy Raber owned the local feed store and were pillars of the Amish community.
“I don’t know the details. He’s just come to Honeycomb after trouble elsewhere and needed a job. Jack offered him one.”
Jack was married to their sister Beth. They had recently moved from the apartment above the store into their new house, which could be seen from the store windows. Jack was the contractor who had built the store, so naturally when Eleanor realized they needed more room for their expanding business, their brother-in-law was hired.
“You’re avoiding the conversation.” Eleanor then launched into how Willa knew very well that she wanted a husband and was just being difficult.
Willa only half listened; when Eleanor got wound up, she could go on for a good half hour without taking a breath. Instead, Willa watched the man through the window as he parked and poured something from a thermos into the plastic lid. He was a big man like her brother-in-law Tobit but with light brown hair. He had a scowl on his face. Movement in the back seat caught her eye. Were there two workmen in the car? She frowned. “You think this Raber cousin or nephew is here today to work?” she asked, glancing in her sister’s direction. “In this weather?”
Eleanor shrugged. “Jack said something last night about a holdup at one of his other jobs, and with our concrete foundation already cured, he decided to start putting the walls up.” She hesitated. “Willa, have you heard anything I’ve said?”
Willa squinted as she tried to see through the frosty windowpanes from where she was standing at the center island. She was certain now that someone was in the car’s back seat. Was it another Englisher needing employment that Jack had taken pity on? He was always hiring someone with a sad story and no money in his pocket. “Ya, I’m listening,” Willa said absently. “You said Jack is starting on framing up the walls because there’s a holdup elsewhere.”
“I’m talking about the matchmaker.” Eleanor’s tone was impatient. “Schweschter, you wouldn’t have to commit to a match right there and then. We could visit Sara Yoder and see if she might have someone in mind for you. Someone from out of town.”
Willa set down her wooden spoon and walked to the window to better see what was going on outside. The man in the car’s front seat turned toward the back seat and said something. She rubbed away the condensation on the glass and her jaw dropped. “That man you said Jack hired? I think he has a little girl with him.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes. “No one brings a child to an outdoor construction site this time of year. Tell me why you’re so opposed to simply talking to the matchmaker. Jeb Lapp told me the other day that he’s considering hiring Sara to find his Annie a husband.”
Willa turned from the window to look at her sister. Annie had been Millie’s best friend in their school days. Over the years, Annie had become a good friend to all the Koffman sisters. On a good day, their dat called Annie his eighth daughter. On a day when he struggled with his memory, he thought she was one of his daughters.
Willa crossed her arms over her chest, upset to hear about Jeb’s intention. Annie hadn’t said a thing to her about the possibility of an arranged marriage even though they’d spent all Saturday together doing inventory in the store. Annie had started working part-time a few months ago, mostly to get out of a house full of men. “Why does Jeb think Annie needs a matchmaker? Because she’s heavy?” She laughed but didn’t think it was funny. “That’s ridiculous. Millie’s fat and look at the man she married. Elden’s as handsome as he can be, smart and funny and... And he doesn’t care what Millie weighs!” she finished indignantly.
Eleanor scowled and moved her mixing bowl to the stand mixer on the counter. “Don’t get yourself all worked up. I think Jeb is concerned about his daughter’s prospects, is all. My point is that there’s no shame in an arranged marriage. Annie will make a fine wife to a man blessed to have her.” She softened her tone. “And your husband will be blessed to have you as his wife, no matter how the match is made.”
“I don’t want someone else to choose my husband for me,” Willa said firmly. “And someone from another state? No way. I’m never leaving Kent County or my family.” She turned back to the window, upset by what she was seeing. “He does have a little girl with him!”
She could now see clearly through the window and into the car. On the back seat sat a little girl in a pink puffy coat who looked about three or maybe four years old. She wore a knit hat with a big pink pom-pom and had long blond braids. The man handed her a box of crayons and what looked like a stack of coloring books. “He brought a little girl with him,” Willa threw over her shoulder. “You don’t think Jack’s hire intends to leave her in that car while he works?”
Eleanor made a face. “Of course not. He’s probably not Jack’s new hire. People come and go here all the time.” She glanced over her shoulder at a clock on the wall. “Oh dear, it’s nearly seven. I have to go. Could you finish mixing this and put the dough in the freezer? A driver is picking me up at the house in half an hour and I need to change into my town clothes.”
“I’ll take care of it. Where are you going?” Willa didn’t take her eye off the girl and the man in the car.
“I told Jon I would take the children to their pediatrician’s office so he can go to work.” She pulled off her heavy-duty apron and hung it on one of the pegs on the wall. “I’m afraid Emmy and Jamie both have ear infections again.”
Willa groaned. “Poor babies.” Eleanor’s friend Sara had passed away in the spring and she’d been helping the widowed husband, Jon, with their two young children. Eleanor cooked and cleaned for the family, made meals and babysat whenever Sara’s mother couldn’t.
“Thankfully, neither is too sick.” Eleanor sighed. “But Emmy complained yesterday of an earache, and Jon said Jamie was pulling on his ears after I left.” She halted in the doorway and sighed again. “I know Gott never gives us more than we can bear, but I worry about Jon. He works so hard and he’s a good dat, but how’s a man supposed to work, cook, clean and care for two small children?”
Willa pressed her lips together. “I pray for them every day.”
“As do I.” As Eleanor left the kitchen, she said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Hopefully in time for closing.”
“We can close without you. No need to hurry,” Willa called after her.
The moment Eleanor was gone, Willa returned to the window. The man and girl were still sitting in the car, talking now. So maybe he wasn’t the Raber relative, come to work. But why was the car parked behind the store, then? She crossed her arms, continuing to study them. She considered going outside to ask him what he was doing in their driveway but decided against it. She’d just keep an eye on him.
But if he took one step out of that car, leaving that child... he would be sorry.
Aaron Raber sipped black coffee from the cup with the thermos he’d bought at a thrift store over the weekend. He and his daughter had found all kinds of things for themselves and the motel room they were renting. The pay-by-the-week room had a hot plate for cooking and a small refrigerator, but the few pots, pans and dishes there were too nasty for him to risk using. They’d purchased a box of cookware and dishes at the store for ten dollars. He got a handful of mismatched flatware and a kids’ metal lunchbox for another four. He also found three pairs of leggings, two sweaters and a flannel shirt for Maggie. She was the one who spotted the pink coat and matching hat on a discount rack. The coat was a good find because she didn’t have one; they’d never needed heavy winter clothes in Paraguay. He’d borrowed a few things like a work coat from one of his cousins for fear of running out of money before getting paid. It was hard to believe he’d spent most of the money he’d saved for the last few years just getting to Delaware, but he didn’t regret it.
“What color do you think I should make her hair, Papa?” Maggie asked.
He glanced over the seat past her, looking through the back window. Jack Lehman, who had hired him, had said to expect to start work at seven, but it was a few minutes after and there was still no sign of the foreman. According to his new boss, the Mennonite man, Mark, would drive a white truck. No white truck so far.
“Papa.” Maggie tugged on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
He had no sweaters but doubled up on the two sweatshirts he owned. They would keep him warm enough under his cousin’s coat. “Yes, Maggie?” He reached over the seat and tickled her belly. “Did you call for the tickle monster?” he teased.
“No tickle monster!” She giggled, pushing him away.
He laughed and withdrew his hand. “What was the question?”
“What color should her hair be?” She pointed to a page of the coloring book he’d gotten her at the dollar store to keep her busy while he worked.
He’d bought crayons, too, and a sketch pad. And she had books they’d gotten at the library and dollies they’d brought to Delaware with them. Cloth dollies her mama had made for her. Thinking of Ancke made his throat tighten and he looked down at the blank coloring page. Who would have thought that after four years without her, he’d still miss her so much? He forced himself to sound cheerful. “I don’t know. What color do you think her hair should be?”
Maggie pursed her lips in deep concentration. “Maybe like mine?” Her face brightened. “Or yours.”
He smiled at his daughter, his heart swelling with his love for her. “I think you should give her blond hair.” Movement in the store window caught his attention and he looked out. His face fell. A young woman was watching them... Amish. She had to be because she wore a white prayer kapp. When their gazes met, she stepped out of view.
Aaron returned his attention to his daughter and tugged playfully on one braid. “Blond hair like yours.”
She looked up at him with big nut-brown eyes and solemnly said, “You said Mama had blond hair like me.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They had no photos of his wife; their church hadn’t permitted photography. And Ancke had died when Maggie was a baby so she had no memory of her mother. He couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Likely both. “She did.” He smiled down at her. “You have her hair and my eyes.”
“Brown,” Maggie said. She carefully took a yellow crayon from the box on the seat beside her. “I’ll give her blond hair like Mama and brown eyes like yours.”
“And then she’ll look like you,” he said.
She nodded, coloring the long locks of hair on the girl on the page. “You want to color with me?”
“Nah, I can’t. I have to work, remember?”
“I don’t want you to work,” she said without looking up. “Then we could play marbles or color together.”
“I know, but Papa has to work, right? We talked about this. You’re going to stay in the car and color, play with dollies and look at your picture books, and Papa’s going to work.”
She shook her head slowly, solemn again. “And I’m not staying with Aunt Sissy because we stick together.” She was small for a five-year-old but wise beyond her years.
He imitated her head shake. “You’re not staying with Aunt Sissy because we stick together.”
“And you’re gonna work so we can buy ice cream. Like we had on the airpane.”
He smiled. She was so smart. Surely no five-year-old was as smart as she was. “Like the airplane,” he repeated, saying the word correctly.
Aaron checked his wristwatch again. It was now fifteen after seven. Where was this Mark guy?
Aaron knew nothing about construction but when his uncle Jessop had introduced him to Jack at his feed store, the contractor had insisted that if he were smart and would do as he was told, they’d make him a rough carpenter in no time. Aaron didn’t admit he wasn’t interested in being a carpenter. But at this point in his life, he’d been thankful to be offered any job far away from his family and the commercial cattle business.
He took another sip of coffee and wondered if the job had been canceled for the day because of the weather. He hoped not. He wasn’t excited about working outside in the cold he hadn’t known since he was a boy, but he was excited about being able to continue to buy food and pay the motel bill.
Maggie started chattering about what kind of ice cream they would buy at the store when he got paid on Friday and he smoothed out the blanket on the car’s front seat. He’d brought it in case Maggie got cold. His new boss had explained that one week’s pay was usually held back when a man started working for him. However, because of Aaron’s circumstances, Jack intended to pay him for the full week this Friday. Aaron didn’t know how much his uncle had told Jack about how he ended up in Honeycomb. He tried not to think about it because, since he and Maggie had walked out of the church compound where they lived in the middle of the night, he’d told himself that nothing mattered but getting his little girl to safety. Maggie was his whole world and he was all she had.
Emotion tightened his throat again and he looked up. There was the Amish woman again. Watching them from the window. He set his jaw in irritation.
He had half a mind to get out of the car and bang on the store’s back door. When the woman opened it, he’d ask her why she was spying on him. He’d had enough prying, tattling women back at the compound to last him a lifetime.
The sound of tires on gravel caught Aaron’s attention and he spotted a white pickup truck pulling in. The vehicle passed him and the driver waved. There were two Amish men in the truck, too. A crew of four, that’s what Jack told him. He’d be working on a crew of four this week to get the exterior walls up for the store’s addition.
Aaron dumped the last bit of coffee into his mouth and popped the cup onto the thermos. “Papa has to start work now, but I’ll be back shortly to check on you. Remember, I’ll never be far away. You can see me right through the windshield.” He pointed at the concrete block foundation thirty feet from the car’s hood. “But you stay in the car, right?” He looked over the seat. “You do not get out under any circumstances. You need me, you holler. I’ll hear you through that window that’s cracked open.” He pointed to the rear passenger window.
“Right,” Maggie echoed, looking up at him with her sweet face. “I stay here. And we’re having peanut butter sammies and apples out of my new Nooby Pew lunchbox when it’s lunchtime.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Scooby Doo,” he corrected gently.
“Scooby Doo,” she repeated. “And one of Aunt Sissy’s cookies if we’re very good,” she added enthusiastically.
“And maybe there’ll be another visit from the tickle monster,” he told her, tickling her belly through her coat again.
The squeal of his daughter’s laughter gave him the courage to pull his knit cap over his head and open the car door. “See you soon. I love you, Maggie.”
“Love you, Papa,” she said without looking up from her coloring book. “Have a good work.”
He smiled as he grabbed the borrowed coat and stepped out into the cold morning, closing the door behind him. He took a few steps toward the now-parked truck. There was movement in the extended cab, but no one had yet exited. He figured the guys were getting a last swig of coffee and gathering coats and hats as he had.
A sound from the store caught his attention. A door opening. Then slamming shut. He turned to see a woman in a blue dress, black stockings and leather shoes coming down a short flight of steps as she hastily wrapped a wool shawl around her shoulders.
It was the woman he’d seen in the window.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she called, her breath frosty in the morning air.
She had a face like an angel: heart-shaped with rosy cheeks and ripe strawberry lips. Golden-blond wisps of hair fell from her prayer kapp to frame her incredible loveliness. She looked like one of those models he’d seen on the covers of magazines in the airport. The only thing that marred her beauty was the scowl on her face.
Aaron was so startled by her words and tone that he glanced over his shoulder, wondering if she was speaking to someone else. Someone she knew. Maybe one of the men in the truck?
“Ya, I’m talking to you.” She pointed her finger at him. “You can’t leave that little girl in a car in this weather. Do you have any idea how irresponsible that is? How dangerous?”
Aaron glanced at the car. Maggie was still busy coloring and hadn’t seen her.
He returned his gaze to the Amish woman, immediately disliking her. What right did she think she had to tell him what to do with his daughter? He’d left his community to escape from other people telling him what to do with his daughter and how to raise her. This woman didn’t even know him. Somehow that made her criticism doubly inappropriate, but he’d known women like her before—too pretty for their own good. Somehow thinking that made them entitled.
He glanced back at the truck; the foreman was getting out. He needed to introduce himself. The sooner the day started, the sooner it would end, and he and Maggie could go home to their shabby motel room and play marbles. He looked back to the Amish woman as she approached and lowered his voice so his new boss wouldn’t hear. “Mind your own business, lady,” he murmured.
Instead of backing away, she took another step toward him. “A little girl alone in the cold is my business,” she told him, her big brown eyes flaring angrily.
Her speech and manner were bold and that surprised him. In their community in Paraguay, women were soft-spoken and docile. No woman ever confronted a man this way. According to their bishop’s preaching, it wasn’t how God intended the world to be. Her tone knocked him so off-kilter that it took him a moment to respond. “I... She’s fine. She’s warm in her coat and hat and there’s a blanket if she needs it. I’m here to work.” He motioned toward the addition.
“Her mother can’t watch her?”
He looked directly into her eyes. “Again, not your business, but she doesn’t have one,” he answered stoically. He was surprised when she softened her tone as she spoke again. Her face gentled, making her all the prettier. That annoyed him even more.
“You’re the Rabers’ cousin, right?” she asked, pulling her shawl closer. It was windy and bitter outside.
“I’m Jeb’s nephew. Aaron.” He looked over his shoulder. The driver was unloading tools from the bed of the truck. “Look, I have to get to work,” he told the busybody.
She glanced into the car, then back at him. “What’s your daughter’s name?”
He exhaled impatiently. “Maggie.”
“I’m Willa, Willa Koffman. I live back there.” She pointed at a white farmhouse in the distance down a long lane. A large barn, outbuildings and a windmill dotted the surrounding barnyard. “My sisters and father and I own the store.” She looked at his daughter again. “Do you think Maggie would like to come inside and make Christmas cookies with me and my sisters?”
After all they’d been through, the thought of having Maggie out of his sight sent a wave of panic through Aaron. He’d come so close to losing his daughter that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to again. He met the woman’s gaze.
“So that she can stay warm. And have some fun,” she added.
He ground out his words one syllable at a time. “Ab-so-lute-ly not.” Thinking that was the end of their conversation, he walked away from her.
But she followed right in his footsteps. “Hey! I’m not done with you, Aaron!”
