A Match For Addy (The Amish Matchmaker Book 1) (15 page)

When they arrived home at Sara’s, Gideon unhitched Jasper, fed and watered him and tended to the evening chores. Since they’d arrived later than evening milking time, Ellie had milked the cow. He rushed through what remained, returned to the bunkhouse he shared with Joseph, shaved and changed into a clean shirt. Then, hoping that it wasn’t too late to go visiting, he jogged across the fields to Addy’s house.

To Gideon’s disappointment, it was full dark by the time he got there. No lights glowed in the downstairs windows. The entire house was dark except for a single lamp glowing upstairs in one of the bedrooms.
Whose room is that?
he wondered. He knew that Addy lived alone with her mother and father. Would it be too much to hope that it was Addy who was still awake?

Gideon stared at the window. Rationally, he knew that he should go home and wait for the next morning. He could draw Addy aside when she came to work, find a quiet spot to tell her that he truly was sorry for the trouble he’d caused. He would ask her to find it in her heart to forgive, not just his behavior with Andy, but also his actions toward her over the past few weeks. She was too important to him to have his foolishness come between them.

But he was afraid that if he waited, he’d lose his nerve. And how could he sleep with this on his mind? What if Addy was still awake because she still felt hurt at what he’d said? What if she really cared for Andy and she believed that he had ruined her chances with the young man? No, what had to be done had to be done now, before it was too late.

On a whim, Gideon stooped and picked up a handful of small pebbles from the driveway. He moved closer to the house and tossed a single stone at the upstairs window. It was too dark for anyone to see him from the second floor. If Addy’s mother or father came to the window, he’d just stand there in the shadows until they decided a bird or an insect had hit the pane. He waited.

Nothing. Seconds ticked by and then a minute. He tossed another stone, a little harder this time. It pinged against the upper glass of the open window.

Throwing pebbles against girls’ windows was tricky. Once, he’d thrown too hard and broken a windowpane. Luckily, the brother of the girl whose attention he’d been trying to attract was one of his good chums. They’d managed to replace the broken pane without the parents’ knowledge. His friends, the
maedle
included, had all thought it a great joke.

Tonight, Gideon didn’t feel like laughing. He threw one more pebble; this one went
in
the window. Again, he waited. Nothing.

He was just about to turn away, when Addy appeared in the window. She had something between her fingers. His pebble, he guessed.

She didn’t speak; she just stood there, her graceful form illuminated by the soft yellow glow of a kerosene lamp. She leaned out over the sill, and her long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders. Gideon’s mouth went suddenly dry, as a wave of tenderness washed over him. Addy was dressed for bed in a long white nightgown, and he was struck by her loveliness.

“Is someone there?” she called, not apprehensive, but curious.

Addy... She always kept him guessing. However he thought she would, she always behaved differently.

“It’s Gideon,” he answered. He kept his voice low, hoping it wouldn’t carry. He didn’t want to wake her parents.

“What are you doing out there?” She sounded surprised, but not angry. He hoped she wasn’t still angry with him.

“I know it’s too late to come visiting, but I had to talk to you tonight.” He moved closer. She dropped to her knees in the low window and leaned on the sill. It was quiet; not a breeze stirred the leaves of the maple tree beside the house. “Can you come down?”

“
Ne
, my mother and father’s room is near the stairs. She sleeps fitfully. She’d hear me and ask where I’m going.”

He took comfort in the way she spoke, not insisting that he go, only explaining why she couldn’t come out. He moved back from the edge of the building, scanning the roofline. The roof of an addition, probably the kitchen, was nearly flat. He could reach it if he climbed the tree, and it ran right under Addy’s window. He considered if going onto the roof might compromise her reputation. But he wasn’t going into her bedroom, just meeting her on the roof.

“You could climb up,” Addy whispered.

“What?” He must have heard wrong. How had she guessed what he’d been thinking?

“Climb the tree. I used to do it all the time. Drop onto the kitchen roof and I’ll come out there.”

He didn’t ask why she was offering to do such an outrageous thing. He leaped for the bottom branch of the maple tree and pulled himself up from one limb to another, finally reaching the height of the flat roof and swinging over. Addy was stepping through the open window when he reached her. She had put a robe on over her nightgown.

“Give me your hand,” he said, and a jolt of excitement ran through him as her fingers closed tightly around his.

Overhead, the clouds parted, and moonlight shone through, shining on Addy’s face. Gideon wondered how he’d ever believed she was plain. He wanted to touch her hair, but he was afraid to frighten her by being too bold. He’d never seen a woman’s hair down, other than his mother’s or his sisters’, and he thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Addy unwound her hand from his and tightened the tie of her robe. It was white, like her nightgown, thick enough for decency, but thin enough that he could make out her shape beneath it. A graceful shape.

He could sense her nervousness. Now that she’d joined him on the roof, he could see that she was hesitant about her decision.

“You can trust me,” he said sincerely. “I’d never do anything to harm you.”

“But you have,” she said. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “What you and Andy—”

He cut her off. “That was wrong.
I
was wrong.”

“I should go in.”

“
Ne
, Addy, please, don’t go.” The warm night air, the moonlight, the sweet smell of honeysuckle, the chirp of crickets—he didn’t want this small piece of happiness to end. “Can’t we just sit here and talk...for a few minutes?” He dropped down to sit.

“Maybe...just for a little while,” she conceded.

He took a deep breath, trying to remember what he had intended to say, then patted the place beside him. “I was trying to drive off your suitors.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry, Addy. It was wrong of me.”

She sat beside him. Close, but not too close.

Somewhere, far off on another farm, a dog barked; the sound was followed by more barking. More dogs.

“Maybe a fox after somebody’s chickens,” he said. When he looked at her, he found that she was already looking at him.

Gideon felt a sudden impulse to put his arm around Addy, to tell her that he wanted to stand before the bishop with her. He wanted to make her his own, to protect her and take care of her. He had heard people speak of their life flashing before them, and he suddenly understood.

He could see them laughing together at the breakfast table...walking to Sunday services together...raising a family and making a home. He sucked in a deep breath and then another. He felt so lighthearted that it seemed he would rise in the air and float off the roof. Happiness filled him.

Why hadn’t he realized how special she was the morning she’d tumbled off the broken stile steps and into the briars? She’d felt so good in his arms. He’d never met anyone like her, and he’d been too dumb to realize that she was what he’d been looking for all along...maybe what God had intended from the beginning.

“Addy...Addy,” he said, and he began to chuckle. “I’ve been such a fool.”

Chapter Twelve

A
ddy shivered, almost too excited to speak. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Gideon coming to her house in the darkness, throwing pebbles at her window, climbing her special tree to sit with her under the moonlight—it was so romantic, like something out of a book.

And now Gideon had admitted that she’d been right when she’d accused him of liking her himself. The thought that a man like Gideon could be attracted to her—Dorcas Coblentz—was almost too much to accept. But it hadn’t happened to Dorcas, because she wasn’t Dorcas anymore; she was Addy. And Addy was someone who could win at games, lead the singing and was a popular girl that other people wanted to be with.

Gideon took her hand, and she found herself smiling at him. His hand was big and warm, and his touch sent shivers of pleasure up her arm. He was still talking.

“...meet with your father tomorrow and ask permission to court you.”

Addy blinked. Gideon wanted to
court
her? The enormity of that settled over her. Gideon was saying that he wanted to
marry
her. Tears gathered behind her eyelids, and all her joy was drowned in a flood of reality.

Addy couldn’t marry Gideon.

It didn’t matter that she cared for him as she’d never cared for another young man...that she might even love him. Her parents would never approve. He had no skills, no land, no money. If they were to wed, they would be worse off than her mother and father. For the rest of their lives, they’d be hired help, living in someone else’s home, working for wages with little to spare to provide for her aging parents.

Her mother would never agree to the marriage. She’d made it clear when they’d hired Sara that she was looking for someone who could provide a better home than Addy’s father had. Her mother wasn’t even willing to pay the matchmaker’s fee; that would be up to Addy’s husband-to-be’s family.

If she went to her father and explained how she and Gideon cared for each other and asked for his blessing, it would do no good. Her father would hem and haw and promise to think on the matter, but in the end, he would do what her
mam
wanted, because it had always been that way. She closed her eyes against her tears. It was her
duty
to take care of her parents in their old age. It was her duty to marry a man who could help her take care of her parents.

But how could she tell Gideon that he couldn’t court her because he was poor? How could she shame him so?

She tried to think.

It would be kinder to let him down easily, wouldn’t it? To give some other reason...

Addy pulled her hand away from his and bit down on her lower lip. “
Ne
, Gideon, I...I’m sorry if I made you think... I don’t want to walk out with you,” she blurted. She suddenly felt sick.

“I... What? You don’t?”

The hurt in his voice made her choke up. “You know I like you,” she said, “but I don’t think of you
that
way. You’re a friend, more like a brother. I couldn’t—”

“But I thought...”

She stared straight ahead, into the branches of the tree he had climbed to come to her, willing herself not to cry. “You thought wrong.”

He stammered something, apologized and rose to his feet. “Addy...is there any chance that you could change your mind?” he asked.

“I don’t think so, Gideon. It’s better this way.” She stared straight ahead, afraid that if she looked at him, he might know she wasn’t being truthful. “Better we remain friends.”

He climbed back down the tree, leaving her alone on the roof beneath the moon and scattered stars. She stared up, dashing away the tears that slid down her cheeks.

She tried to pray, but the words wouldn’t come. God had answered her prayers. He’d sent her the man she’d dreamed about all her life, and she’d refused him over a silly thing like money. She’d told him that she wanted to remain his friend, but she knew that would never happen. Truthfully, Gideon would probably never be her friend again. She’d lost her one chance, and she must be content in surrendering all hope for her own personal happiness. She would have to take solace in doing what was right, no matter how much she had to sacrifice. Wasn’t that what the bishop preached?

* * *

The following week was difficult for Addy; it was all she could do to make herself go to work at Sara’s. She was busy, though, which helped take her mind off her broken heart. There was housecleaning to be done, and because it was late July and crops were ripening, there was plenty of picking and canning to do.

Addy saw Gideon coming and going, but they both made a point not to be in the same place at the same time, if they could help it. When they
did
run into each other, in the kitchen or in the yard, they both attempted to pretend that nothing had happened between them, but that had been a dismal failure. Instead of their usual banter, their conversations had been awkward and uncomfortable. For both of them. If Ellie or Sara noticed anything going on between Addy and Gideon, they didn’t mention it.

The same week, Aunt Hannah’s orchard produced a bumper peach crop. She always offered to let Addy’s family pick as many as they liked, so Addy’s mother insisted they go pick peaches two afternoons in a row, right after work.

On Wednesday, the second day of peach-picking, Addy and her mother worked side by side. Each of them wore a special kind of apron with one deep pocket across the front for putting peaches in. Because peaches were fragile and easy to bruise, it was important to handle each piece of fruit carefully and not to pile too many on top of each other.

“I haven’t talked with Sara this week.” Addy’s mother eyed her. “Any new prospects? With the fair starting, there must be boys in town looking for girls.”

Addy reached up and picked a big, fat, ripe peach. When she plucked it from the branch, she could smell the sweet aroma of the fruit. Ordinarily, she loved the smell of ripe peaches, but today, she couldn’t even appreciate it, she was feeling so down.

“Your father was disappointed the butcher didn’t suit.” Her mother looked right at her. Addy kept picking. “It would have been nice to have a butcher in the family. All the pork chops your father could eat.”

Right now, Addy couldn’t stand the thought of meeting another man at Sara’s dinner table or letting another boy walk her home from a singing. Every time she thought about meeting another of Sara’s prospects, she was reminded of what she and Gideon might have had together. Of what she was afraid she would never have with someone else.

“What was wrong with the butcher?” her mother pressed when Addy didn’t answer. “He has a big house and a nice shop. Clean for a butcher. And plenty of money, I hear.”

“A man’s money is all you talk about,” Addy responded, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She’d heard bitterness from her mother her whole life, and she didn’t want to be that person. Not ever. She added another peach to her apron. “What does it matter how much money a man makes, if he has a good heart?”

Her mother sniffed and began to slowly empty her apron pocket into a half-bushel basket. When the six they had brought were full, Addy would load them in the back of the wagon to take home. She’d stay up late into the night to peel and cut and process the peaches so they could go into the Ball jars and be preserved to be eaten that winter.

“You wouldn’t ask that if you’d ever not had the money to put boots on your children in winter, or watched a calf die because you couldn’t afford the price of the veterinarian.”

Addy closed her eyes for a moment. Her head understood what her mother was saying, but her
heart
... “I see what you’re saying, but I’m just asking,
Mam
. What if I were to meet someone special, someone I felt was right for me, and he wasn’t financially well-off?”

“That’s why you pick and choose who you walk out with, daughter.” She shook her head, walking back toward the peach tree they were picking from. “That’s why I asked Sara to help us. So you have the right kinds of boys to pick from.”

Addy focused on a peach just above her head, afraid that if she met her mother’s gaze, her mother might suspect whom she was talking about. She knew she shouldn’t say any more. The matter was settled. But she couldn’t help herself. “But what if I
did
meet a poor boy, and I wanted
to marry him?”

“Then you’d have to think long and hard about your duty to us,” her mother said, taking a big bite out of a peach she’d just picked. “Because without you, your father and I will end up living on your Aunt Hannah’s leavings.”

* * *

A week later, Sara hired a driver to take a group of young men and women, including Ellie, Thomas and Gideon, to the fair. Addy had wanted to go with them, but her mother and father had been invited to go with Bishop Atlee, his wife and another older couple. When she’d mentioned going with Sara, her mother wouldn’t have it, insisting it was important they go as a family with the bishop.

And so, reluctantly, Addy had accompanied the bishop’s party in his rented van, with a driver so elderly and cautious that, although they left the house at eight sharp, it was 10:00 a.m. by the time they paid admission and entered the main gate. With her parents, Addy made the familiar rounds of the cow barns, the poultry area and the 4-H exhibits.

The fair in Harrington was the same as it had always been: hot, noisy and crowded with families and people of all ages who’d come to enjoy themselves. Music drifted from the midway, where a giant Ferris wheel, a Tilt-a-Whirl, a merry-go-round and a dozen other rides had been erected on the fairgrounds. But that was not an area condoned by Addy’s parents or any other Amish elder. Carnival rides, cork-gun-shooting booths, guess-your-weight shills, baseball throws and ring tosses were worldly entertainment for Englishers. But that didn’t mean that Addy didn’t have a secret wish to see for herself what the excitement was all about.

By noon, the original group had split up, with Bishop Atlee and his wife going in one direction, the Troyers in another and the Coblentzes in another. Once Addy’s father had inspected the second horse barn and the swine sheds, he was anxious to go on to inspect the sheep and goats. Her mother objected, insisting that she and Addy had been waiting to visit the horticulture exhibit.

By then, Addy was out of patience. “Actually, I’d rather go to the conservation building,” she ventured. “Maybe we could each go—”

“Nonsense.” Her mother fanned her face with a paper fan advertising a funeral home. “We’re a family. We came together to enjoy the day, and we’ll remain together. No use in you looking at sheep, Reuben.” She waved her fan at him for emphasis. “It’s not as though you can afford to buy any. Now, let’s go to see the flower arrangements. The building is air-conditioned.”

“Addy!” Her cousins, Rebecca and Susanna, waved and then crossed the street to join them. “I just saw Sara,” Rebecca said. “She was so excited. She thinks that Ellie has a good chance to win with her elderberry custard pie entry. Judging is later this afternoon.”

“The new schoolteacher made the pie,” Susanna explained, loudly. “She’s a little girl.”

“I told you,” Rebecca told her sister, “Ellie is a
little person
.”

Susanna nodded. “She’s little. So how can she be a teacher if she’s not big?”

Rebecca smiled fondly at her. “Susanna and I are on our way to get funnel cakes. Do you want to join us, Addy?” Rebecca threw her a meaningful look.

Addy’s mother frowned. “We were going to the flower displays.”

“I’ll catch up with you,” Addy said, seizing the opportunity to escape with her cousins. “You know I love funnel cake.” And before her mother could raise a protest that the sweet was overpriced, Addy hurried off with her cousins.
“Danke,”
she exclaimed.

At the end of the street, they turned the corner, and Gideon stepped out from behind an ice cream cart in front of her. “Can I interest you in a sundae on a stick?”

Addy stopped short and burst out laughing. Gideon looked so silly, standing there holding out a chocolate-covered frozen sundae with a cherry on the top. Addy glanced at Rebecca and Susanna, who were both giggling. “You planned this, didn’t you? Gideon put you up to it.”

“Guilty,” he said, and he handed the sundae on a stick to Susanna. “All my idea. Rebecca was just willing to help a boy out. I saw you with your mother and father, and I thought maybe you—”

“Maybe you’d like to get away for some fun,” Rebecca finished for him. “We’re going for that funnel cake. Enjoy yourself.” Taking Susanna’s hand, Rebecca walked away.

Addy didn’t know what to do. Having Gideon meet her like this was exciting, but she knew it wasn’t smart. She was doing her best to avoid him until her feelings for him eased. Now all those emotions rushed back, stronger than ever. “I shouldn’t be here,” she said hesitantly.

“Maybe this is exactly where you
should
be.” He fixed her with those beautiful gray eyes, catching her gaze and holding it. “Rebecca told me that you like the merry-go-round. Would you like to ride it with me?”

She felt breathless. The heat, the crowds of people, everything and everyone seemed to grow dim around her. She could hear the blare of music from the midway, and the laughter and shrieks of people riding the rides. She knew it was the wrong thing to do, but all her life she’d loved the idea of a merry-go-round with the flashing lights, the pretty sounds and the painted animals. She’d never ridden a merry-go-round, never ridden the Ferris wheel or the Tilt-a-Whirl, but she’d wanted to. Just once, she wanted to experience the thrill of the forbidden world of the Englishers.

“You asked me if I wanted a sundae,” she said. “But I didn’t get it. You gave it to another girl.”

“Susanna? A married woman,” he corrected.

“Just the same, how do I know you’ll really take me on the merry-go-round if I agree?”

He laughed. “I guess you’ll have to trust me, Addy.”

“My parents wouldn’t approve.”

“But what do
you
say? You can’t always do what they tell you. You’re a grown woman. You have a right to choose.”