He thought for a minute. It had never occurred to him to hire the services of the local matchmaker. He’d always thought matchmakers were for people who couldn’t get a date. That certainly didn’t apply to him. He’d walked out with more girls in the last ten years than he could count. But Ellie was a sensible woman. Probably the most sensible he’d ever known. He knew he’d do well to take her advice. “Do you really think Sara could help me find a wife?”
“Absolutely. But pray on it. With your history, even Sara Yoder will need all the help she can get.”
* * *
“Why do I think the two of you invited me here for something other than my rhubarb pie recipe?” Sara Yoder asked as she took a chair at Hannah’s kitchen table. Hannah, her dearest friend as well as a cousin, had sent one of her grandsons with a note to ask if she could come over at four.
Since the weather was pleasant and the two houses were less than a mile apart, Sara had walked. She liked being active. She was usually up by six and going until long after the sun had set. Not that it had done much for her figure. Despite her busy lifestyle, she remained hearty. She supposed it was partly that she loved to eat and partly because her mother had been substantial in size.
At the back door, Hannah’s widowed daughter, Leah, recently returned from a long stay in South America, had taken Sara’s denim coat and black outer bonnet and given her a big hug. Sara hadn’t gotten a chance to get to know Leah yet, and she was pleased that she was there this afternoon.
“I’m so glad you could come,” Hannah exclaimed as she dropped into a seat across from Sara. “We’ve been making vegetable soup and canning it. Cleaning out the cellar. Soon enough we’ll have fresh vegetables again and I never like to save canned goods from one year to the next. I have a couple of quarts of soup for you. Too many to carry, but Leah can drive you home.”
Leah wasn’t Amish anymore, although in her plain blue dress and navy wool scarf she appeared so. When she’d married Daniel Brown several years earlier, she’d joined the Mennonite church. The Mennonites, close in belief to the Amish, were not as strict in daily lifestyle and permitted motor vehicles. Sara assumed that the small black automobile in the yard was Leah’s.
Smiling, Leah brought a pitcher of cream and an old pewter bowl filled with raw sugar to the table. “Tea is such a treat,” she said, joining them and pouring the first cup of tea for Sara. “I can’t get enough of it. They have wonderful coffee in Brazil, but it was impossible to find decent tea.”
All of Hannah’s daughters were known for their liveliness and independence, but Leah was the one who residents of Seven Poplars saw as the most independent. After her marriage, Leah had left Delaware to follow her new husband to do missionary work among the indigenous people of the Amazon. There, in an isolated outpost, the young couple had operated a school, a store and a basic medical clinic. Then tragedy had struck. Leah had lost both her husband and her child to a deadly fever. Unwilling to leave her adopted community in need, Leah had remained more than a year until another team could be sent as replacements. Now, she’d returned to her childhood home to pick up the pieces of her life.
Leah might have been the rebel of the Yoder girls but, of all of Hannah’s daughters, she was certainly the prettiest, Sara decided, looking across the table at her. Her red hair, blue eyes and flawless complexion made her a real beauty, more attractive even than Violet Hershberger, who was considered the cutest and most eligible girl in the county. But Leah’s almond-shaped eyes held a depth of sorrow that gave her a fragility of spirit not evident in Violet or any of the other young women in the county. Leah seemed cheerful and strong enough physically. She laughed as readily as her sisters, but Sara could sense a vulnerability in Leah that tugged at her heart. It was obvious that she was still in pain from her loss, but Sara could see that she was making an effort to be a part of the world again. And she seemed to be succeeding.
Sara considered herself a sensible woman, one not easily swayed from the right path by emotion or hasty decisions. But she couldn’t deny that she felt drawn to this girl and felt an instant desire to do whatever she could to help her. “It was nice of you to invite me for tea, but did you ask me here for the reason I suspect?” Sara asked.
Leah smiled and her cheeks blushed. “I think it’s time I wed again and my family’s in agreement.”
“I’m glad you called on me, then. I’ve brokered a few Mennonite marriages, though you may have to be patient with me while I talk with some friends at the local church.”
“Actually,” Hannah said. “Leah has decided—” She broke off abruptly as her youngest daughter, Susanna, came into the kitchen with a basket of clothing she must have just taken in off the clothesline. Susanna had been born with Down syndrome and she and her husband David, also mentally challenged, made their home with Hannah and her husband Albert.
“The wind is picking up, isn’t it?” Sara said to Susanna. She could smell the wholesome scents of sunshine and spring breezes on the clothes the young woman carried in the basket.
Susanna, red cheeked and beaming, nodded. “Ya. Almost blew me over.”
“Ach, Susanna. You’re about to lose your scarf.” Hannah rose and went to her daughter, untied the navy cotton scarf and retied it in place over her daughter’s braided and pinned up auburn hair.
“Danki, Mam.” Susanna giggled, her round face creasing into folds of pleasure. “As soon as I...” Susanna’s forehead crinkled as she struggled to find the right words and pronounce them correctly. “Fold the sheets,” she managed. “David’s gonna show me new kittens in the loft. He said ‘Susanna, you help name them.’” She nodded excitedly. “They need names!”
“That sounds wonderful,” Sara exclaimed, and then waited for Susanna to take her leave. Sara didn’t need to be reminded not to speak of matchmaking business in front of Hannah’s youngest. As delightful as Susanna was, whatever she heard, she repeated. It was impossible for Susanna to keep a secret. Arranged marriages were confidential between the candidates and the matchmaker, not food for neighborhood gossip.
Hannah took the laundry basket from her daughter. “Would you like me to help you fold? We’ll take these sheets upstairs and put them away and then you can go and see the kittens.”
“Ya, Mam.” Susanna giggled again. “I’m gonna see the new kittens. We’re gonna name them, me and David. I love David.”
Hannah smiled lovingly. “I know you do. Now come along.”
Leah waited until her mother and sister were out of the room before adding more tea to Hannah’s cup and her own. Then she took her cup in both hands, gazed down into the swirling liquid and said, “I want to marry again, Cousin Sara.” She sighed. “It’s been more than a year since I lost my Daniel and our little one and...I’m the kind of person who needs to be married. It’s what God has always wanted for me.” Her eyes teared up. “I want a husband and children.” She looked up, unashamed of her tears. “Can you help me find a husband?”
Sara leaned forward. “Of course. As I started to say, my contacts among the Mennonite faith are not as extensive as—”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Leah interrupted. “I didn’t make myself clear. I mean to return to the Amish church. I became Mennonite for Daniel, as was right. I believe it was God’s plan for me at the time. And now, I think He means for me to accept the Amish way of life again.”
Sara reached for a sugar cookie on a blue-and-white plate. “I assume you’ve considered this carefully? You’ve lived with many conveniences since your marriage. Are you sure that you can live Plain, as you did as a child?”
Leah didn’t answer at once, and Sara liked that. This was no flighty young woman who chose first one path and then another on a whim. Sara nibbled at the cookie and sipped her tea.
“I’ve thought of little else since I left Brazil,” Leah said finally. She offered a half smile. “I loved my husband. I’ve mourned him with all my heart. I think