Little Amish Matchmaker Read Free Page B

Isaac raised his eyebrows, knowing Mam wouldn’t expect an answer.
    Sister’s day was a regularly occurring hazard, in his opinion. First of all were those 18 nieces and nephews to contend with. All his Legos, model ships, harmonicas and BB guns had to be stowed into hiding. His sisters sat around the table and ate, drank endless quantities of coffee, discussed either people or food and didn’t watch their offspring one bit.
    Especially Bennie. That little guy could do with a good paddling from his dat, not his mam. Isaac told him a dozen times to leave that wooden duck decoy alone, the one that sat on his chest of drawers, but inevitably Bennie would climb up on his bed, then his clothes hamper, and get that decoy down. Every time. Isaac told Mam, which did absolutely no good. Mam’s head was stuffed full of babies and recipes and songs and time on the clock and all kinds of troubles. Some things in life you were better off shutting your mouth about and not caring so much. It was only a wooden duck.
    But if Bennie ran with the wild crowd in his rumspringa years, they couldn’t say they hadn’t been warned. He’d done his best.
    He yawned, rubbed his eyes, then reached for a whoopie pie. Slowly, he dug at the Saran Wrap, uncovering half of it, then sank his teeth into the chocolatey goodness.
    “Better get in the shower. Be sure and brush your teeth. Don’t forget to brush for a whole minute,” Mam called.
    That, too, was a ridiculous thing. If you brushed your teeth for 60 seconds, you ended up swallowing all the toothpaste, which could not be good for your digestive system. So he never timed himself, just brushed awhile.
    Isaac’s last thought was wondering what was going on at the Speichers before he fell asleep.

Chapter Three
    I T WAS UNBELIEVABLE, BUT in the morning, the light was still gray, the air stinging with brutish, icy snow. They did the chores swiftly, shoveling drifts from doorways, opening frozen water pipes with propane torches.
    No school, of course, although Isaac knew they could have, so it would be a sort of holiday. Horses pulling a carriage or sleigh could get through deep snow, but most horses were terrified of snowplows. With this amount still coming down, those clattering monsters with yellow blinking lights and chains rattling would be plowing the drifting snow back into place. It was better to take the day off.
    Isaac never found out when Sim came home, and he didn’t bother asking about the trouble at the Speichers. Sim was a puzzle. His eyes were way too bright, almost feverish, and yet he looked completely miserable. Isaac figured he’d have all day to corner Sim, which he fully intended to do.
    Mam made fried cornmeal mush, stewed crackers, puddin’s and fried eggs for breakfast.
    “ Mush und levva vosht . (Mush and puddin’s) Nothing better on a cold winter day,” Dat said, gazing warmly at Mam. Her cheeks flushed like red apples as she basked in his praise.
    Isaac squirted homemade ketchup all over his stewed crackers, then cut a bit of fried egg and laid it on top. Shoveling it onto his fork, he wedged it into his mouth, then bit off a corner of his toast spread with homemade raspberry jelly and watched Sim’s face.
    Seriously, that poor guy was in a bad way. He didn’t even talk.
    Dat opened the subject, saying Abner Speicher was taken to the hospital, with a bad case of pneumonia, only worse. He wasn’t sure what it was; viral something. A few hours later their water pump gave out, leaving the calves in the veal barn without water.
    Dat hated gossip. He never belittled anyone, but Isaac could see he was choosing his words carefully, trying hard not to disparage his neighbor. Not everyone had the same work ethic as Dat, nor owned three farms. Dat was very humble in that respect, teaching his sons to never speak of the farms he possessed.
    He asked Sim if they wanted to have a working day at the Speichers, sort of a frolic.
    When Sim choked on his mush and had to swallow