my foot in my mouth, haven’t I?” He looked down and self-consciously rubbed the neat patch on one trouser leg knee.
Ellie chuckled. “Ya, you have. But don’t worry. I’m not that anxious to have a match, either. I’ve turned down four men that Sara offered me.”
“Then why are you here?”
“My parents.”
He nodded, understanding perfectly. A mother and a father, no matter how loving, could be demanding.
“For now,” Ellie went on, “I’m happy being single. I’m excited to teach at the Seven Poplars schoolhouse come fall.”
Gideon sat down on the step and leaned back against a white post. It was solid enough, he noted, but probably needed another coat of paint. “I’m happy being single, too. It’s my mother who’s anxious for me to marry. And my dat. I’m the only son,” he admitted sheepishly. “It’s up to me to carry on the family name. It’s a big responsibility.” He frowned. “I probably shouldn’t have said that, either.”
Ellie boosted herself up into the porch swing and scooted back until her tiny feet stuck straight out. “I understand,” she said. “And don’t worry about saying what you think with me. I like it.” She flashed him an impudent grin. “And I like you. You treat me like I was average-sized.” She arranged her dress. “Not everyone does.”
“Sometimes people feel awkward with those who are different. That kind of thing doesn’t bother me. I have a cousin who’s like you.”
“A little person? Really?” She seemed surprised.
“Ya. My second cousin Abraham is a harness maker, a good one. And he’s a great guy, hardworking. He married a regular-sized woman a few years ago, and they have two sons.”
“Big or little, the kinner?”
“Average size.”
“Ah. They could have been small. I think it’s a worry for some. But I’ve never minded being short.” She shrugged. “It’s just who I am. God has given me good health and a good mind. Why should I complain about how tall I am?”
Gideon bent to retie a bootlace that had come loose. “If they hired you to teach school here in Seven Poplars, then your height must not matter to the community.”
“I have Hannah Yoder to thank for my new position. I stayed at her house last year when visiting with Sara, and we got to know each other. When she found out that I was looking for a teaching job and had been turned down twice elsewhere, she suggested me. And...” Ellie spread both hands, palm up. “Since two of her sons-in-law are on the school board, they accepted my application. My parents thought I should come to Delaware now with Sara, rather than waiting until fall.”
“Has it been hard? Moving from Wisconsin?”
“Ya. I miss my family, but this is a nice place. I like it here. Still, it would be nice to have a friend from Wisconsin.” She uttered a small sound of amusement. “If we were friends, like a brooder and schweschder, we wouldn’t have to feel awkward about being together.”
“Friends.” He removed his hat and pushed back his thick yellow hair as he considered it. “Ya,” he said. “I’d like that. And we wouldn’t have to worry about Sara matching us up.”
Ellie chuckled. “She could try, but it wouldn’t work. As nice as you are, I’m not...” She looked at him. “Now I’m the one putting my foot in my mouth.”
Gideon cocked his head. “You aren’t attracted to me?”
She shook her head. “Ne.”
“What’s wrong with me?” he ventured, feeling a little disappointed. Girls usually liked him.
“Besides being so pleased with yourself, you’re too tall,” she said. “Too much of you altogether. It would give me a stiff neck to be always staring up at you.”
“Right, with me being tall and you not,” he answered, ignoring what she’d said about him being conceited, which he didn’t agree with. Though she wasn’t the first girl to ever say that, he didn’t want to ruin their budding friendship by arguing with her. “I guess we’d make quite the pair, wouldn’t we?”
She giggled. “Daykli and a grohs beah. Not good.”
A tiny lump of dough and a huge bear. Gideon laughed. “You think I’m a bear?”
“As big as,” she said. “But a nice bear. Maybe one who could learn to dance.”
“Amish don’t dance,” he reminded her. “It goes against the ordnung.”
“Voah.” True. “But bears do not live by the ordnung. And if you were a bear, I think you would be one that danced.”
He laughed. “Do you always get the last word, Ellie?”
“Not always,” she replied saucily, “but I try. Maybe that’s why even Sara can’t find a husband to suit me.”
* * *
Two days later, Dorcas, who was beginning to think of herself as Addy, carried a plate of scrapple, eggs and fried potatoes to her father at the breakfast table. The cut on her knee was on the mend, and she was excited that she’d be going back to work at Sara’s house. She wore her second-best dress, a sensible blue one that was starting to fade from repeated washing, but was still good enough for housework, and her old blue sneakers. She’d washed and ironed the lovely green dress that Sara had loaned her to wear home after she’d made such a mess of her new lavender one. She planned to return it today.
“Danke,” her father said, setting down his mug of black coffee and picking up a fork. They’d already sat together for a moment of silent grace before her mam had poured the coffee.
Breakfast with her parents was always a good time. Her mother was cheerful in the morning, or at least as cheerful as she permitted herself to be, and her father liked to ask about her plans for the day and tell the two of them his own.
He poured catsup over his scrapple, cut off a bite with his fork and popped it into his mouth. “Goot, Dorcas. You make it crunchy-brown, the way I like it.”
“Enjoy it, Dat,” she said. “This was the last of it.”
“The last of all that you and your mother made?” He took a cloth napkin and carefully wiped his mouth. He was always neat when he ate, careful never to leave the table with bits of food clinging to his beard, like some men. Dorcas thought her father a very respectable man, and she couldn’t help being proud of him. Of course, their faith frowned on pride. It was considered hochmut. But how could she not be proud of a father who was one of the two preachers in their congregation, a truly good man who lived according to the rules and thought the best of everyone?
“I saw the bishop’s wife at Byler’s Store yesterday,” her mother said as she took the seat across from her husband. Her mam liked her coffee sweet, with lots of milk. Luckily, it was summer, and the milk cow gave more than they could use. She hadn’t taken any of the scrapple for herself, leaving it for her husband, but he didn’t know that, or he would have insisted that they share. “She told me that Sara Yoder has a new hired man. Not from around here. Up north, somewhere.”
“Wisconsin,” her father said as he used the pepper shaker liberally on his eggs. Two eggs, sunny side up. It was what he wanted every morning. He was a hearty eater, and he never minded what they put in front of him. He ate roast turkey breast and beef tongue with equal enthusiasm, which was a good thing, because they often had to borrow from Peter to pay Paul to keep up with the bills. “The new hired hand is from Wisconsin, same as Sara.”
“If she needed the help, she could have asked one of the Beachy boys,” her mother put in, sipping her coffee. She had a single egg, poached, with a slice