LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Two

      Sunday morning dawned cloudy but warm. It seemed to Olivia Mae that Daddi’s moods reflected the changing weather. As a farmer, rain had always been a good thing—a sign of God’s blessing. Daddi sat at the kitchen table, a smile on his face, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth as if they were the best thing he’d ever tasted.

      “Maybe I’ll have a chance to meet that nice young man who visited the other day.” Mammi refilled their coffee mugs and sat down across from Olivia Mae.

      “Nice young man?”

      “You know very well who I mean.”

      “We have a new postman.”

      “Nein. Young Amish man.”

      “Our neighbors dropped by with their new baby.”

      “Olivia Mae, you know gut and well who I mean, though you’ve avoided talking about him all week.” Mammi pointed a fork at Olivia Mae as if in warning, but there was a smile on her face.

      “Hmmm. Oh, you mean Noah Graber?”

      “Indeed. He seemed like a fine young man.”

      “How could you tell? You didn’t meet him.”

      “Because you didn’t invite him in.”

      “He was just returning something he’d found. There was no need to invite him in, plus I think he was in a hurry.”

      “Well, he won’t be in a hurry today, and I have a mind to speak with him.”

      “Oh, please don’t do that.” Olivia Mae fumbled around for a reason. In truth she simply didn’t want her grandmother to attempt setting up a date for her again. The last one had been a disaster. The man had been nearly fifty. She certainly didn’t get her matchmaking skills from her grandmother. Thank goodness! In desperation she added, “He’s rather the shy sort. I was thinking of maybe setting up something between him and Jane Bontrager.”

      “Why are you always matchmaking other folks together, but no one seems to catch your interest?”

      Olivia Mae wasn’t too surprised at the question. It was something Mammi tossed at her at least once a week.

      “I have my hands full with you and Daddi. I have a family of my own. I don’t need another.”

      “Pshaw.” Mammi plucked a hot biscuit from the basket and broke it open with trembling fingers. The steam rose, and she inhaled deeply before adding a pat of butter. “You know what the Good Book says about taking a log out of your own eye before you worry about your bruder’s.”

      “My bruders are doing just fine, but danki for your concern.”

      She thought her grandmother would continue to bat the topic back and forth, but instead, when she looked up, confusion clouded her features. “Elizabeth, I’ve told you before. It’s past time you marry, and I don’t think you should put it off. There are plenty of gut boys available.”

      Olivia Mae closed her eyes briefly, said a quick prayer for wisdom and forced a smile. “Yes, Mammi. I’ll give that some thought.”

      “And prayer. Don’t forget prayer, young lady.”

      Olivia Mae hopped up to clean the dishes so they could leave for church on time. But as she washed and rinsed, she wasn’t thinking about the service, she was thinking about Mammi calling her by her mother’s name. Olivia Mae didn’t even look like her mother—she took after her father. Both of her parents had perished in an accident ten years ago and she missed them as sorely as if it had happened the week before.

      Daddi’s dementia was a terrible thing to watch, but it was Mammi’s slips into the past that frightened her more. She couldn’t possibly care for her grandfather and grandmother by herself, not to mention that the house was starting to show signs of neglect. She would ask for help if she needed it. Of course she would, but she knew what her bruders’ answer would be—they had wanted to move Mammi and Daddi to Maine years ago.

      She couldn’t imagine taking them away from what was familiar. As far as the house, she could ask the bishop for help and a work crew would be there the following week, but she hesitated to do that, too. Her church family had already done so much to help when Daddi was in the hospital last month. She knew they didn’t mind, but she didn’t want to be the type of person who only asked for help but never gave.

      So she bought old sweaters at garage sales, unraveled and washed the yarn and used it for her knitting. She was able to scatter the shawls and sweaters and blankets throughout their community. That and matchmaking were the only ways she knew to give back.

      And she prayed, but not for a beau. That would only complicate things. Who would want to take on a twenty-seven-year-old wife, a small farm, a dwindling herd of sheep that she thought of as pets, and tottering grandparents? It seemed too much to ask, in her opinion. Best that she keep her problems to herself and bury her own dreams. Sometimes life called on you to sacrifice.

      Mammi and Daddi were definitely worth sacrificing for.

      * * *

      Olivia Mae didn’t involve herself in someone else’s life unless they asked. But during their church service Sunday morning, she couldn’t help watching Noah Graber and Jane Bontrager. They sat as far from each other as possible. Noah was on the men’s side of the aisle, closer to the front. Jane was near the back, helping with her nieces. Noah didn’t seem aware of Jane at all, which wasn’t unusual in Olivia Mae’s experience. It was one of the reasons that older men remained bachelors. They weren’t even looking for love.

      What was it that Noah had said?

       I’m single—happily single.

      He wouldn’t be the first man to think so.

      Their opening hymn had ended and the ministers had filed into the barn. The doors were open wide, allowing in the fresh spring air, but rain threatened so they’d opted to have the church service under cover. Now they all stood for the Oblied, and for a moment Olivia Mae forgot about Noah and Jane and even her grandparents. She allowed the words of the praise song to flow over her, to rise from her heart. She felt, in those few moments, transported to a place without difficult days and hard decisions. She felt like the young girl who had written the letters to herself, the letters that were in the box Noah had brought to her.

      She’d tried to read them. The evening he’d given her the box, she’d waited until she’d settled down for the night and then she’d once again unfolded the top sheet. She’d instantly been transported back to the summer of her seventeenth year, when her dreams were still fresh and hopeful. Each sheet contained a letter to herself that she’d penned quite seriously over the course of the

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