A Husband For Mari (The Amish Matchmaker 2) by Emma Miller Page A

across her cheeks. The longer she knew him, the more handsome he seemed to get. “It’s nothing.”
    He smiled down at her. “I was just saying, I’m glad you came and I’m also glad you agreed to ride home with me, too. Otherwise, I imagine Hannah would have put some eligible unmarried girl in my buggy seat.”
    She lifted her brows. “Hannah’s trying to fix you up? I thought Sara was the matchmaker in Seven Poplars.”
    “I think every woman over the age of sixteen sees herself as a bit of a matchmaker,” he joked. “Half the women in my church are scheming to match me up with one of their sisters or daughters or cousins. Mattie won’t stop bringing up the subject of my marriage to a nice girl. She’s already picked out the bride.”
    Mari felt a sudden sense of disappointment and she didn’t know why. “Someone in Seven Poplars?”
    “ Ya. And there’s nothing wrong with the girl. I just don’t know if she’s the right one, and I refuse to let Mattie push me into courting someone.” He shrugged. “I know it’s not what’s expected, but...” He sounded sheepish. “This probably sounds silly, but I’m looking for love, Mari. Real love.”
    Mari steadied herself as the buggy rolled over a pothole, trying to keep from brushing up against him. “Have I met this girl your sister likes for you?”
    “She was at Sara’s shindig last night. Lilly Hershberger. Curly blond hair. Dimples. Pretty girl. Smart. She’ll make someone a good wife.”
    Noisy chatter came from the back of the buggy. The boys were obviously occupied with their own concerns, and Mari felt free to talk without fear of being overheard. “How does Lilly feel about you?”
    James considered. “She’s nice enough to me, but then Lilly’s nice to everyone. My sister keeps mentioning Jane Stutzman to throw me off, but I know it’s Lilly she wants me to walk out with.”
    He was talking to Mari as if she were a good friend. A confidant. Rebecca had obviously been mistaken when she said he’d been interested in her. James obviously saw her as a friend he could talk to. Why else would he bring up courting another girl? “So what are you going to do?”
    “I don’t know what to do. Do I give in to my sister? Maybe I should ask to take Lilly home from the next get-together. That’s the way it usually starts here,” he explained. “I ask one of her cousins or her friends if she’d be willing to ride home with me. They ask and then let me know. That way no one is embarrassed if she’s not willing. If she is, I don’t really have to say anything to her. It’s just understood. We socialize with the rest of the group, and then when it’s over, I ask her if she’s ready to leave.”
    “So you don’t take her to the frolic, like the English would. You just drive her home?”
    “Exactly.”
    “And do you need a chaperone or do you have an open buggy? Most of the young men back in Wisconsin drove a courting buggy for their dates. In a closed buggy, like this, they’d have to have someone with them.”
    James shook his head as he turned the horse into a driveway on the left side of the road. “An open buggy or a chaperone isn’t necessary, not if I’m just driving a girl home. If we were gone all day or went to Lancaster, maybe. But Bishop Atlee is reasonable.”
    “I guess our church was stricter,” Mari said, liking the idea that she could bring up the life she used to have among the Amish and not feel uncomfortable. In the English world, she’d never talked about her life among the Amish.
    She glanced out over the ears of James’s horse; she could see the amber glow of lights, and as the horse trotted up the lane, the dim outline of Johanna’s farmhouse became visible. There were no curtains at the windows, and the shades were still up. The house looked warm and inviting. James called over his shoulder, “Here we are, boys. And there’s your dat at the door.”
    Home , thought Mari. As she watched the boys clamber out