Little Amish Matchmaker Read Online Free PDF Page B

and Sim’s shoulders and pursued the subject of stuttering once again.
    They had stopped at a red light on Route 23 in the town of New Holland. There was traffic everywhere, boxing them in, and Sam the driving horse was a bit too energetic to hold completely still, waiting for that light to change. He hopped up and down on his front feet, so Dat had to hold a steady rein and didn’t answer until the light turned green and they could surge forward with the traffic.
    Dat reached down and turned the right-turn signal on after they had moved swiftly for about a block before he answered. “You’d think one of Levi’s daughters wouldn’t have that problem. He’s quite a talker.”
    “I read somewhere that you can help people who stutter. You get them to talk very slowly. Or something like that.” Isaac said this a bit hesitantly, afraid Sim would laugh, but he didn’t, just nodding his head in agreement.
    Horse sales were magical. The flat, long, white buildings were surrounded by vehicles, trailers and black carriages belonging to the Mennonites who drive buggies, the Joe Wengers, as they were known by the Amish. They lived side by side in unity, but the Joe Wengers were an entirely different sect of plain people. The Amish buggies were gray with black wheels; that’s how you told them apart.
    White fences divided the pens of horses and ponies. Motors hummed, people talked and the auctioneer could be heard from the vast sea of concrete that was the parking lot. The horses milled about, whinnying, tossing their heads.
    Dat gave Isaac a five-dollar bill for his lunch. It wasn’t enough, but Isaac was ashamed to tell Dat, so he asked Sim for more.
    Sim raised his eyebrows. “You can buy a hot dog with five dollars.”
    “Not French fries and Mountain Dew.”
    Sim shook his head but extracted his wallet and handed him five one-dollar bills. “You can’t go to a horse sale without buying candy and chewing gum.”
    Isaac couldn’t believe it. Another five dollars! At the most he had planned on another dollar, maybe two.
    “Hey, thanks, Sim.” He ran off before Sim changed his mind.
    He’d drink all the Mountain Dew he wanted. That was the best drink anyone had ever invented. He could drink a gallon and never tire of it. Mam said it was not good for little boys, rotting their teeth and supplying too much sugar and caffeine, but Isaac couldn’t see the difference in drinking a few cans of the delicious soda, or sitting around at sister’s day drinking pot after pot of coffee. They were like camels at a watering trough, never getting enough, those sisters.
    Isaac sized up the dollar bill, turning George Washington’s head the same way it was imprinted on the Pepsi machine. He held his breath as it gobbled the dollar, then whirred softly, and with a clattering sound his green and red can of Mountain Dew rolled into the little tray.
    Expertly, he popped the top, and turned to see Catherine Speicher watching him.

Chapter Five
    I T WAS UNSETTLING, SORT of.
    Teachers were teachers in the classroom, dressed a certain way, always professional, sort of untouchable, set apart.
    Here she was, standing in the bright December sun, her hair as light as an angel’s, wearing a black coat fancier than the one she wore to school, with a red scarf thrown loosely over one shoulder.
    Isaac held his Mountain Dew, then returned her smile, and said, “Hey, Teacher!”
    She looked at him a moment longer, and for one mortifying second, he thought she was going to hug him.“Isaac! It’s good to see you!”
    “Yeah. You, too. You buying a horse?”
    She laughed, adjusting her scarf.
    “Actually, I am helping at the tack shop today. My friend Liz helps her dat when they’re busy before Christmas.”
    “That’s nice.”
    She hesitated for only a second, then asked, “Are you here by yourself?”
    “No, I came with Dat and Sim.”
    Was it his imagination, or did her face change color only a bit? Perhaps it was the red scarf that gave