The Matchmaker (34 page)

This idea flustered Mary and she responded with a quick excuse. “You know that our
haus
is already too small! Salome Musser refuses to give up the larger part!” She pursed her lips and sighed. “Imagine that! Putting us into the
grossdawdihaus
with two small
kinner
!” She clicked her tongue three times as she shook her head, clearly disapproving of her mother-in-law’s decision. “Her own son, me, and two grandchildren! Living in such cramped quarters!”

No one responded to her complaints. Nor did anyone point out that she still had a spare bedroom, given that the two young boys shared one. However, Mary’s family all knew what was required when Mary went on a self-indulging rampage: a proper moment’s hesitation, as if permitting a respectful silence to acknowledge Mary’s complaint, before continuing to address a situation at hand.

At last Elizabeth broke the compulsory silence. With her porcelainlike white hands folded together and resting so primly on her lap, she appeared almost like an austere school teacher as if she were reprimanding rambunctious young children. Only she wasn’t: she was scolding her father. “I dare say that selling the house would raise eyebrows,
Daed
.” She paused, hesitating as if mulling over her own words. “But there must be something we can do. Why, the Hostetlers kept their family place even after all of those medical bills required not one but two rounds of aid from the
g’may
!” She turned her head and looked at Lydia. “Certainly we are better off than that!”

Once again a glimmer of hope shone from his eyes. For the second time that evening William pointed at Elizabeth as if her suggestion was the solution to his problems. “
Ja
, that’s the truth!” A glow of eagerness returned to his face.
“No one can doubt that we have done much better than that Henry Hostetler!”

Lydia shook her head. “I’ve gone over your numbers, William. You have simply spent far more than you have earned . . . or saved. The maintenance on this property plus the taxes on the land are only part of the problem. You also spent almost ten thousand dollars on that new buggy last spring.”

“And the horse,” Anna whispered.

Lydia nodded at the reminder. “And the horse. That was a very expensive horse, William, especially considering the fancy harness you purchased from Benny Zook.”

“Fancy harness?” He looked incredulous at the words spoken by Lydia. “I see nothing wrong with purchasing a good quality harness for a horse that is sound and capable.”

“It was green as they come, William,” Lydia reminded him, with just enough gentleness in her voice so that he did not become more irritated. “You had to pay John and Martin Wagler to break it.”

“I’m sure that Cris would be happy to buy your new buggy,” Mary cheerfully offered, as a way of moving the conversation along, ignoring the glare that Elizabeth sent in her direction. She smiled as if this alone would solve her father’s money problem. “Although it is used now so it wouldn’t fetch the same price, I reckon.”

This suggestion did not sit well with William. “I just purchased that buggy! It has the new battery that recharges! I shall not part with it! Perhaps I should just sell a few acres.”

“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that,” Lydia said, a gentleness to her voice that did little to lighten the news. “Even selling those unused acres that you never farm wouldn’t help,
William. And frankly it would make the property less valuable in the long run.”

It wasn’t a big property, just ten acres. Many years ago it had been much larger, but as customary among Amish families, parcels were divided and given to sons throughout the generations. Anna loved to walk through the tall grasses in the back acres, sometimes finding a broken piece of metal from an older plow or harvester in her path, especially after a sweet spring rain. She knew that her grandfather,
Grossdawdi
Eicher, had lived on the property, helping his own
daed
farm those acres a couple of generations ago. But when he married and acquired the small farmette, he chose not to farm but worked in minerals, instead. With only two children who survived into adulthood, he didn’t have to worry about decisions regarding inheritance. His son, David, eight years older than William, had married and moved to the southern part of Holmes County. With his wife, he raised their five daughters and one son. Now that David was older and bound to a wheelchair, he lived on the same farm with that son and two grandsons, the oldest of whom ran the large farm.

As for William, he followed in his father’s footsteps, and when
Grossdawdi
Eicher passed away, he had inherited the farmette, the perfect size for raising his own small family.

Minerals had been a valuable career path for William, given that there was limited competition. The rewards for his efforts were great from a financial perspective. The only problem was that he had sold the business three years ago, retiring when he hit sixty-one and his vision worsened. Too many years of refusing to wear glasses when the sun went down had quickened his visual impairment. Without a steady income, his unwillingness to decrease spending had begun
to seriously deplete his nest egg. And though not spoken aloud, everyone knew that they could not accept assistance from the
g’may
without revealing that pattern of profligate spending.

Now he sat in his chair, trying to digest Lydia’s words, while rubbing his hands as if attempting to ward off a deep pain. A flare-up. Again. Without being asked, Anna set down her quilting and quietly stole across the room to retrieve a small plastic container from the propane-powered refrigerator. She unscrewed the lid of the jar as she approached her father. Kneeling by his side, she dipped her finger in the jar and began to rub the waxlike ointment onto his hands, the scent of lavender slowly filling the room.

Only Lydia appeared to notice.

The older woman smiled as she observed Anna’s attentiveness to her aging father’s arthritis. It always seemed to flare whenever he became upset. Over the years, however, he stopped seeing doctors, claiming their
Englische
medicine was too suspicious and full of ingredients he couldn’t pronounce.

He withdrew his hand from Anna’s, motioning for her to leave his side. It was not an overtly rude motion, or at least Anna didn’t take it that way. No, she merely picked up the lid to the jar and got to her feet, quietly returning the ointment to the refrigerator while he talked.

“I just don’t understand how this happened.” He frowned, the deep wrinkles by his eyes mirrored by the ones engraved in his forehead.
Lines of age meant years of wisdom
, Anna thought as she sat back on the sofa and watched him. Or in his case years of foolish spending. “So many years! So much work! Where has all of the money gone?” This last question,
directed at Lydia, was spoken in a tone that bespoke genuine worry and fear.

“
Daed
,” Anna chimed in, her soft voice barely audible. “No one will think any less of you for selling the
haus
. There are worse things, I suppose.”

“What could possibly be worse?” His voice cracked as he addressed Anna. Her sensible nature often conflicted with his vanity, a character trait so contrary to the Amish life that Anna often wondered how he had not once been reprimanded by the bishop. Now, and not for the first time, he stared at her, an expression of incredulity on his face, as if the words she had spoken were that of a child and not an intelligent woman. “It isn’t
your
reputation at stake, need I remind you?”

“William!” Lydia gestured toward the reclining chair. “Please sit. You’re working yourself into a tizzy.”

Silently Anna watched as her father did as Lydia instructed.
Bless her heart
, she thought. Dear Lydia with her calming influence over stressful situations in the Eicher house. Without Lydia, Anna knew that there were times that even Elizabeth would not be able to handle her father’s anxieties. Clearly this was one of those.

William took a short breath and lifted his chin. “
Ja vell
, I won’t be letting that Willis get his hands on it, that’s for sure and certain!”

“
Daed
!” The anger in her father’s expression caught Anna off guard. As soon as the word slipped from her lips, she covered her mouth. She hadn’t meant to reprimand him; however, his display of anger, especially so pointedly at one particular individual—and family at that!—upset her. She was thankful that no one else had paid attention to his outburst.

William turned toward Anna. Lifting his hand in the air, he pointed toward the heavens. “God is my witness, I don’t care whether or not he’s my nephew’s son! The injustice he did to this family!” His anger dissipated just enough so that, when he looked at Elizabeth, there was less fire in his eyes. “Ach, the humiliation! It’s unthinkable that his banns were read after he came calling on you!” He reached out to pat her hand, a gesture of comfort to his oldest daughter. “Why, the entire church district whispered for months, and not even John David would invite me to play checkers that winter!”

Anna looked away, the color flooding to her cheeks, but not before she saw Elizabeth’s jaw muscles tighten.

Despite her own discomfort with her father’s rebuke, Anna felt even more shame as she remembered her sister’s stoic response when it was announced after worship service that Willis Eicher and Barbie King were to marry. At that time, seven years ago, there were plenty of unmarried young women in the
g’may
, five of whom sat between Anna and Elizabeth on the hard pine bench since they always entered single file in chronological order. Even though she hadn’t been able to comfort her sister, Anna felt the sting of the announcement. Elizabeth, on the other hand, never once mentioned his name nor the four times that he had come calling at their house.

The intention had been clear and, frankly, presumed by all.

Instead, Willis Eicher chose to marry a woman from a faraway church district. That decision always brought out the fire in William’s eyes, for the woman was the only daughter of that
g’may’s
bishop. Besides the whispers about Willis snubbing Elizabeth, there had also been scuttlebutt over the motives behind his surprisingly sudden decision: the King
family owned a rather large farm in another church district in a neighboring county.

Anna had never truly decided which one of them had felt more disgraced:
Daed
or Elizabeth. Even today she couldn’t decide. The one thing she did know was that the wounds remained fresh for them both and reminded her far too much of the pain that she too had once caused.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Lydia reached out and, with a calm hand, touched William’s sleeve. “William, that’s pride speaking.”

He ruffled at her words and shifted his weight in his chair.

“Besides, maybe we won’t have to sell the
haus
. Not yet, anyway.” Her eyes brightened from behind her glasses. “I have another possible, perfectly reasonable solution!”

“The only perfectly reasonable solution,” he grumbled, “is staying in my own
haus
.”

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and rested her head against the cushion. “I just hate the thought of all those people talking about us.”

“Speculating . . . ” he added.

“I knew we shouldn’t have donated so much money last year!” Elizabeth clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “You know that the amount we donated was shared by Preacher Troyer’s
fraa
! Everyone knows and now speculates about our situation!”

“Scandalous!” William cried.

Anna felt as if the two of them were playing volleyball.

The kitchen clock chimed six times. Lydia glanced at it for she needed to leave in less than thirty minutes.
Certainly she had her own work to do
, Anna thought. Already Lydia had spent almost an hour with William and his daughters, reviewing the situation, a situation about which he merely
grumbled and complained with no inclination to act upon a viable solution.

“If you should like to hear my solution?” Lydia interrupted. She spoke louder than usual but still with a degree of patience. Once William and Elizabeth settled down, she took a deep breath and began speaking. “It’s simple, really. You have that small
haus
in Florida. Move there for a while. Winter and spring are lovely down there. It’s less expensive to live there, and if you rent this
haus
for a year or so, the income will replenish your savings. If you find Florida to your liking, you can sell the
haus
without raising an eyebrow. If you don’t, you can always return.”

Anna looked up again from her quilt. “Why, that’s the perfect solution!”

Lydia nodded and added, “Especially after last winter being so difficult and causing the flare-up with your arthritis. Certainly no one will question why you have left.” Pausing, she let that suggestion register with William.

“If we move that far away, I’d still have to sell my horse and buggy,” William grumbled.

Anna glanced up at him sharply. This was the first indication that her father might—just might—be willing to listen to reason.

Lydia nodded gravely to acknowledge William’s loss before pressing her point home. “If you don’t rent out the property, I fear you’ll have to approach the bishop for assistance or, even worse, sell it. This way no one will be any the wiser and you can return for the summer to stay with Mary and escape the Florida heat.”

A silence fell over the room. Anna waited, her breath caught in her chest. Elizabeth almost broke into a rare smile while Mary developed a typical scowl, the two very different
reactions almost amusing to Anna except she knew the serious reasons behind them.

Finally Elizabeth nodded her head in approval, her agitation from moments prior quickly vanishing. “That’s an agreeable solution!” She met her father’s worried gaze. He often sought her validation on important decisions, and even those that did not qualify as very significant. She was, after all, the maternal head of the house, at least since their mother departed from her earthly life to begin her heavenly one. “Especially with the cold season soon upon us. I’m rather partial to that idea.”