A Perfect Amish Match Read online

  Every courting disaster has led him to her.

  An Indiana Amish Brides story

  After three failed relationships, Amish bachelor Noah Graber would rather disappoint his parents than try again. But when matchmaker Olivia Mae Miller agrees to provide courting lessons, Noah’s perfect match becomes clear—it’s Olivia Mae herself! With ailing grandparents at home, she hadn’t planned on love or marriage. Might a future with Noah be everything she’s been missing?

  “You need to teach me.”

  “Pardon me?” Olivia Mae asked.

  “You need to give me dating lessons,” Noah said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You and me. We’ll go on a few dates...three. That would be a gut number. You can learn how to do most things if you do it three times.”

  “That’s a ridiculous suggestion.”

  “Why? I learn better from doing.”

  “Do you?”

  “I’ve already learned not to take a girl to a gas station or a picnic, but who knows how many more dating traps are waiting for me to stumble into them.”

  “So this would be...a learning experience.”

  “It’s a perfect solution.” He studied her closely and then reached forward and tugged on her kapp string, something no one had done to her since she’d been a young teen in school with a crush on a boy.

  “I can tell by the shock on your face and the way you’re twirling that kapp string that I’ve made you uncomfortable. It’s a gut idea, though. We’d keep it businesslike—nothing personal.”

  Vannetta Chapman has published over one hundred articles in Christian family magazines, receiving over two dozen awards from Romance Writers of America chapter groups. She discovered her love for the Amish while researching her grandfather’s birthplace of Albion, Pennsylvania. Her first novel, A Simple Amish Christmas, quickly became a bestseller. Chapman lives in the Texas Hill Country with her husband.

  Books by Vannetta Chapman

  Love Inspired

  Indiana Amish Brides

  A Widow’s Hope

  Amish Christmas Memories

  A Perfect Amish Match

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

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  A PERFECT

  AMISH MATCH

  Vannetta Chapman

  Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.

  —Song of Solomon 8:7

  By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.

  —John 13:35

  This book is dedicated to Beth Scott,

  a dear friend. God blessed me

  when our paths crossed.

  Acknowledgments

  Continued thanks to my editor, Melissa Endlich, for guiding me through the Love Inspired process. All of the people at Harlequin have been a joy to work with. A special thanks to my agent, Steve Laube, for his wisdom, hard work and sense of humor.

  I wouldn’t even attempt to write without the help of my family, pre-readers and friends. You all are a constant source of inspiration.

  And finally, “Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20).

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Her New Amish Family by Carrie Lighte

  Chapter One

  Olivia Mae Miller had her hands covered in flour and was breading chicken breasts to slip into the oven when Mammi called out, “Someone’s at the door.”

  It was late Wednesday afternoon, the first day of May. She’d opened the doors and windows to allow the spring breeze into the house. She could just make out the silhouette of a tall man through the screen door. Olivia Mae added dashes of salt, pepper and garlic to the chicken, then popped the baking dish into the oven. Finally she snagged a dish towel off the counter and hurried through the living room, hoping the sight of a stranger wouldn’t upset her grandfather. Some days he could become quite agitated. Other days he was sure the person was a long-lost relative.

  “Can I help you?” She peered through the screen, looking up to take the measure of the man on their porch.

  “Are you Olivia Mae?”

  “Ya.” Still she didn’t step outside. Maybe he would go away if she wasn’t overly friendly. She had dinner to finish preparing—potatoes and corn and salad. The doctors said small amounts of salad were very important for people her grandparents’ age. She really couldn’t afford to run behind on their schedule. Evenings were difficult when they didn’t manage to tuck Daddi into bed early. She almost said, “We’re not interested,” to shoo away the man.

  But then the stranger held up a wooden box that had been tucked under his arm. “I believe this is yours.”

  “Oh, my.” Still wiping flour off her hands, she pushed through the door, forcing him to take a few steps back. “Where did you find that?”

  He placed the box in her hands. “I’m an auctioneer over in Shipshewana, and it was in a lot—”

  “From my grandparents’ old house. I must have left it there, and then they moved. But I still don’t understand how you ended up with it.”

  “I thought it was something that my mamm would like.”

  She must have looked alarmed, because he quickly added, “I didn’t actually buy it. I couldn’t. Since I’m the auctioneer, that wouldn’t be proper. I asked my bruder to bid on it, which he did.”

  The man was rambling and refused to make eye contact. He seemed nervous for some reason. Olivia Mae pulled her gaze from him to study the box she was holding—cherry wood, sanded smooth, with a trio of butterflies carved in the bottom right-hand corner.

  “After the auction, when I opened it, I saw the papers that had your name on them.”

  Her head jerked up at the mention of her letters. “They’re still in here?”

  “I didn’t—didn’t read them. Just saw your name, and my youngest bruder was standing there, and he knew you—knew of you. We both agreed it should be returned to the rightful owner. Didn’t seem likely that you would intentionally auction it with the letters inside.”

  She moved over to one of the porch rockers, and Tall-Dark-and-Handsome followed her. Olivia Mae sank into the chair, opened the box and unfolded the top sheet. It was her handwriting all right, from so many years ago. Pain as sharp as any paring knife sliced through her heart. She shook her head, refolded the letter, gently closed the lid and turned her attention to her visitor.

  “It would seem I owe you then.”

  “Of course not. We have a process for things like that—when something is auctioned but shouldn’t be.”

  “So your bruder was refunded his money?”

  “He was.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Noah. Noah Graber.” Instead of looking at her as he spoke, he stared out over the porch railing at her pitiful herd of sheep in the adjacent pasture—if you could ca
ll six a herd.

  “And you live here in Goshen?”

  “I do now. Just moved back.” He didn’t offer any further explanation about that, but he did add, “My youngest bruder, the one who was helping me, is Samuel.”

  “I know Samuel, as well as Justin.”

  “Seems everyone knows everyone around here.”

  “Justin Graber and Sarah Kauffmann. They were married last fall.”

  Dawning washed across Noah’s face.

  It was almost comical.

  “You’re the matchmaker?” He was still standing, and now he glanced at her before looking at his hands, the porch floor, even his horse and buggy. “I recognized your name, but I didn’t remember...that you, well, put Justin and Sarah together.”

  Olivia Mae waved away that thought. “It was obvious that those two were a perfect match for each other.”

  “Wasn’t obvious to Justin or Sarah. They’d known each other all their lives and never even thought of courting, to hear him tell it.”

  She’d dropped her gaze to the box and was again focused on it. To see it after all these years, it made her feel young again, made her feel seventeen. But it also reminded her of the painful times that came during and after that year. The deaths of her parents, moving to live with her brothers and then the problems with her grandparents. She could have never imagined then how her mammi and daddi would come to depend on her, and how inadequately prepared she was for the changes in their health. If she didn’t find a way to stem their drastic decline, she knew it would mean a move, and she was convinced that would be the worst possible thing for them.

  “I missed the wedding,” Noah continued. “I was living in Pennsylvania at the time. Seems I’ve missed a lot of things around here, but to meet an Amish matchmaker... Well, I wouldn’t have ever guessed that, and I wouldn’t have thought she’d look like you.”

  There was something in Noah Graber’s voice that pulled her attention away from the wooden box and to his eyes, which were a warm dark brown, like the best kind of chocolate.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What’s what supposed to mean?”

  “What am I supposed to look like?”

  “Well—”

  “Old, maybe. Using a cane. Peering at you over my glasses and shaking my knitting needle at you.” She’d come across the stereotype before. She should be used to it by now. “Yes, I’m a matchmaker. Is that something you’re interested in?”

  “Me? Nein.” He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and jerked the straw hat off his head. She wasn’t surprised to see that his brown hair curled at the collar. Over six feet, tall as a reed and brown curly hair to boot? Noah Graber could be a cover model for an Amish romance book. As she waited for him to explain why he wasn’t interested in dating, a blush crept up his neck. He was easily embarrassed, too? He’d be perfect for Jane, or possibly Francine.

  “I wouldn’t think that you would need a matchmaker. No doubt you have women following you around at the auction.” She motioned toward the other rocker.

  He shrugged and perched on the edge of the seat. “Actually I’m single—happily single.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  “And why would that be?”

  “Can’t see as that’s your business.”

  Olivia Mae laughed. “Fair enough. It’s true that I enjoy setting up dates for those who haven’t found the love of their life.”

  Noah shook his head in disbelief. “You believe in that?”

  “Ya. Don’t you?”

  “Never really thought about it.”

  She doubted that was true, but she didn’t call him on it. Instead she returned her attention to the box. Running her fingertips across the top, she marveled at the way just holding it took her back to a simpler time, an easier time.

  “My daddi made it for me. He was quite good with small wood projects, when he was younger. Now...” She pulled in a deep breath. “He gave it to me when I came to visit one summer. I left it at their home, thinking I would be back the next year. But they moved and things...changed.”

  “I’m surprised it ended up at auction.”

  How could she explain what Mammi and Daddi had been through the last few years? She couldn’t, and why would she try? This stranger wasn’t interested in the particular burdens of their life, so instead she changed the subject.

  “I don’t remember seeing you at church.”

  “We didn’t meet this past week, and I only moved back the Wednesday before that.”

  “And already working at the auction house?”

  “Ya. It’s the reason I moved here. They needed another auctioneer so I thought I’d come back home.”

  Olivia Mae searched his eyes for a moment, long enough that he began to squirm again. There was something he wasn’t saying, but she had no reason to press him. As he’d pointed out, he wasn’t interested in being matched and beyond that she was simply being nosy.

  “Welcome to Goshen, then, though it sounds as if you grew up here.”

  “I did.”

  “If it’s been more than a few years, I expect it’s changed a bit since then.”

  “Yes and no.”

  A man of few words. Yes, he would match perfectly with Jane Bontrager. She was a real chatterbox, which would balance them out. She was tall, too—not as tall as Noah Graber, but tall enough that he wouldn’t feel awkward. Was that why he’d never married? Did he tower over every woman he met?

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if the entire conversation was painful to him. “Some things always stay the same—especially in Amish communities.”

  “Yes. I suppose so.” She smiled, stood and said, “Danki very much for bringing this out to me.”

  Noah seemed to realize he was being dismissed. He nodded once and headed down the porch steps when there was a clatter of dishes inside the house.

  Olivia Mae was already moving toward the door.

  A woman shouted, and then a man hollered something in return.

  “Do you need help?”

  “Nein. We’re fine.” Which was categorically not true, but she wasn’t about to reveal as much to a man she barely knew, and one that probably wouldn’t last in town long enough to see the summer flowers.

  She hurried inside, allowing the screen door to bang shut behind her. Matchmaking was good and fine, but it was what she did to relax. Her priority was the two dear old people who now looked up at her in surprise—as if she’d popped in from thin air.

  “I’ve got that, Mammi.”

  “Turned my back on him for one minute...” Mammi had a dish towel and was attempting to clean up the coffee that had spilled on his shirt. The mug sat on the floor next to Daddi’s chair.

  Olivia Mae went for the broom and dustpan. She returned to the sitting room and began sweeping up shattered pieces of a small dish on the opposite side of the room, where it had apparently been flung.

  Mammi continued to blot at the coffee stains, but Daddi was having none of it. He captured her hands in one of his, which were still strong—they were the same hands that had felled trees and planted fields and carved Olivia Mae’s letter box. “Don’t bother me with that, Rachel. Did you see the size of that hog? Nearly knocked over my chair trying to get at your peanut-butter squares.”

  Olivia Mae and Mammi shared a look, but neither corrected him. They’d learned long ago that doing so only made matters worse.

  * * *

  Noah spent most of the drive home wondering if he should have gone back up the porch steps to make sure everyone was all right. As he’d walked away, he had distinctly heard an old man’s shouting. Olivia Mae had clearly not wanted help—she’d practically slammed the screen door shut without a single look back.

  His mood jostled between concern for this woman he didn’t know,
aggravation at his brother and curiosity over what was in the box. She had barely glanced at the top sheet, though plainly she’d recognized it instantly.

  Noah was twenty-nine years old, and it wasn’t lost on him that all the fine women—women like Olivia Mae Miller—were taken. No doubt her husband had been out in the fields or in the barn with the animals, though he had wondered at the absence of children. Most Amish households had a whole passel.

  She had struck him as quintessentially Amish. Thick brown hair pulled back under her kapp, with just enough showing that he’d been sure to notice how it was shot through with blond. Simple Amish frock covered with a clean apron. Brown eyes that seemed to be both laughing and taking in everything at the same time. She reminded him of a teacher he’d had his last year of school—she’d been young and seemed impossibly beautiful and even then he couldn’t understand why she was teaching.

  That was it. She’d reminded him of a teacher, and he’d felt like a schoolboy squirming under her gaze.

  Teacher! Ha. Perhaps she read romance books when she wasn’t tending to her children. That would explain her fascination with true love. He’d nearly laughed at her, but stopped when he saw the serious look on her face. She was a believer—no doubt about that. Why shouldn’t she be? For Olivia Mae life had turned out the way it was supposed to. For him? Not so much. His mind threatened to turn toward his past failed relationships, but he shook his head and focused on the scene in front of him instead.

  He pulled into his parents’ farm, which was one of the larger properties in Goshen. It wasn’t that they were wealthy, but with seven boys, his dat had made it a priority to purchase any adjacent property as it became available. The result was that they owned close to three hundred acres, which was enough for four farms. Three of his brothers had built adjacent homes, two had moved to nearby counties and one had taken over the family place.

  As for Noah, he had no intention of being a farmer.

  He’d found his passion, and it was in the auction house.