Little Amish Matchmaker Read Online Free Page B

going to die of cold and starvation, alone on that bobsled, he heard footsteps, a “Good-night!” and they were off.
    He told Sim what he thought, too, and Sim called him “little buddy” and put an arm around his shoulder. Sim said he was sorry it took so long, then burst into some hymn about how great is our God.
    Isaac didn’t appreciate being called little buddy, either. He was as tall as the eighth-graders, and told Sim so. Then Sim got all emotional about that, so Isaac was thoroughly turned off by the time he got into the warm kitchen.
    They ate by the light of the kerosene light: beef stew kept warm in the gas oven, thick with soft buttery dumplings, piles of sweet applesauce, and slice after slice of homemade bread and church peanut butter. Joes had church at their place, and his sister Naomi made a whole batch of the spread. She told Mam that was way too much, that next time she was going to use only two jars of marshmallow cream. Well, at least they had church peanut butter, which was by far the best thing ever.
    They practiced for the Christmas program in the afternoon at school. Isaac sincerely hoped Abraham Lincoln liked his wife better than he liked Ruthie.
    She acted so dumb. She was supposed to look at him when she spoke her lines, but she looked at his right suspender. He checked it to make sure there was nothing wrong with it, like a stink bug sitting on it, but it just looked like his left suspender, unless the stink bug had flown off. They could fly. He told Calvin that once, and he said, yeah, every time a stink bug flew around the propane gas lamp his mam would scream and point and back away, saying it would put a hole in the mantle and burn the house down. Isaac really laughed about that.
    The practicing went terribly wrong.
    He pitied Teacher Catherine. She kept a brave face, but no one spoke loud enough, they all droned their lines in a sort of monotone and Ruthie said “Heerod” for King Herod, then got all red-faced and muttery when Teacher Catherine corrected her.
    It was a good thing they still had over three weeks to practice.
    When Isaac yelled “Bye, Teacher!” at the end of the day, she was staring absent-mindedly out the window at the flying snow and didn’t hear him.

Chapter Four
    T HE SUN SHONE, THE winds mellowed and the days turned into fine winter weather, the kind that are blissful for sledding.
    Recess was never long enough. Teacher Catherine was kind enough to allow an extra 30 minutes on Friday, but told them the Christmas program was more important than sledding, and they still had a long way to go.
    Isaac knew that was true. They didn’t talk plainly. Most of the students spoke in resounding tones, but their words jammed together until no one could understand very well what the poem was about.
    How to tell them to speak clearly without being insulting? Teacher Catherine took to pacing the floor, adjusting the shoulders of her cape unnecessarily, sliding her sleeves above the elbow and gripping one forearm with the other until her knuckles turned white.
    When it was Isaac’s turn to recite his 14-verse poem, he faced the classroom squarely, lifted his chin and spoke in the best way he could possibly muster.
    It’s Christmas tonight.
    The hills are alight,
    With the wonderful star of God’s love.
    On and on he intoned the words of Jesus’ birth. They were well-spoken, perfect and he knew it. Teacher Catherine nodded her head, praised him for his clear speech and asked the rest of the class to follow his example. He knew his face was turning a hateful shade of pink as he made his way back to his desk, so he watched the glossy floor tiles closely, wishing his bangs were longer still. Calvin grinned openly and raised his eyebrows.
    They practiced three songs, which went well, especially “Joy to the World,” which started on a high note. Everyone knew most of the words, and the voices rollicked along together in holiday harmony, which really perked up Teacher