Anna's Gift (6 page)

Anna nodded and followed Dorcas through the narrow door off the hall and down the steep steps. The basement was dim. The only light present was the weak winter sunlight filtering through several windows at ground level. Downstairs, Roman had fashioned a spacious storage area for Fanny to place her rows of home-canned tomatoes, green beans, sauerkraut and corn. Naturally cool but unlikely to freeze, this area was perfect for keeping baskets of potatoes, sweet potatoes, apples and pears through the winter months.

A long table covered with newspaper held pies, cakes and four giant bowls of macaroni salad, potato salad,
three-bean salad and pasta salad. “Do you think we'll have enough to eat?” Anna teased.

“I sure hope so,” Dorcas said, going along with the joke. “My father can eat all of this and ask for seconds.”

“
Ya,
he does like to eat,” Anna agreed, “but my question is, where does it all go?” Uncle Reuben was a string-bean, tall and lanky. No matter how much he ate, he never seemed to gain a pound.

Dorcas giggled and used a plastic fork to scoop up a bite of the potato salad. “Johanna's,” she pronounced. “I like the way she makes her dressing.”

Anna nodded. “She's a good cook, my big sister.”

Dorcas captured another bite. “Umm. Can you manage more than one bowl, or should we make two trips?”

Anna hesitated. She'd promised Samuel she wouldn't say anything to anyone but Mam, but her secret was rubbing like a blister on her heel. Her mother hadn't gotten home yet, and if she didn't share her problem with someone, Anna thought she would burst. “Can I tell you something?” she said impulsively.

Dorcas shrugged. “You tell me stuff all the time.”

Anna put a finger to her lips. “This is different. A secret…”

Dorcas giggled. “You've decided to turn English and buy a motorcycle like Eli used to have?”

“
Ne.
Be serious. I need to ask you something important.”

Dorcas picked up the bowl of four-bean salad and studied it. “Lydia's, I think,” she said. “She puts too much vinegar in her sauce.” Then she realized that Anna was watching her intently and shrugged. “So what is this big secret?”

“Samuel Mast asked if he could court me,” Anna blurted. There, it was out. She'd said it, and the house
hadn't fallen in around them, and the stars hadn't fallen from the heavens. She felt better already.

“Mmm-hmm,” Dorcas agreed. “Sure he did.” She chuckled. “You wish.”

“
Ne.
True. Yesterday. Well, actually, before that, but—”

“Your mother's beau suddenly decided he wants you instead?” Dorcas grimaced. “Bad joke, Anna.”

Anna shook her head. “Not meant to be funny. He asked me. At first I thought that he was asking about Mam…you know, if I minded. But that wasn't it. He told me he never intended to ask Mam to marry him. He says he wants to marry
me,
Dorcas.”

“Not possible.”

“That's what I thought, but he means it.”

“And your mother? What will she think—that you stole her beau while she was in Ohio fetching your grossmama?”

“No, you don't understand. We were mistaken. Mam and me. All of us. Samuel said he thinks of Mam as a friend, but that it's me he wants.”

Dorcas pursed her lips. “You think maybe he asked her and she said
ne?
”

Anna swallowed. “It's possible, I suppose, but I think Mam would have told me—told us. He didn't say anything about asking her. I don't think he did.” She hesitated. Dorcas was sampling another salad. “So what do you think?”

“I think it's a better match than you could hope for. Samuel's nice, and he's got a big farm. But are you willing to take on five stepchildren?” She pointed with the plastic fork. “That won't be easy. And that youngest is a handful.”

“I think I could, with God's help. I really do. They are such sweet children, especially Lori Ann.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “And the twins? Rudy and Peter?
Sweet?
”

Anna shrugged. “They're eleven-year-old boys. Full of themselves.”

“
Ya.
Those two are. Tried to burn down the school, didn't they? Not to mention your barn.”

“Not on purpose,” Anna said. “Samuel's done a good job, but the children really need a woman—a mother—in the house.”

“Maybe.” Dorcas hesitated, swallowing another mouthful. “Are you sure, Anna? Are you sure you're not mistaken, not wishing so hard for someone that you've…”

“Made all this up?” Anna felt hurt. “It's true. Samuel asked me if he could court me. I wouldn't tell you if it wasn't. I thought you would be happy for me.”

“I
am
happy for you.” Dorcas shrugged. “I just wouldn't want you to be mistaken.”

“I'm not mistaken,” Anna said firmly. “And Samuel wants an answer, but I don't know what to say.”

“Do you like him?”

“'Course I do. Who doesn't like Samuel?” But she didn't tell the entire truth about how he made her feel. Not even to Dorcas could she admit that she more than liked him. She couldn't explain how just watching Samuel made her heartbeat quicken or how the sound of his voice made her feel like she'd bitten into a ripe Golden Delicious apple. “It's just…I don't know why he would pick me,” she finished in a rush.

Dorcas nodded. “You know I love you, Anna. It doesn't matter to me if you're…you know.”

“Fat?”

“Sturdy,” Dorcas supplied, “But you know you aren't
one of the cute girls. Neither am I. So you have to wonder if he asked you because your mother owns the farm next door or maybe because you cook so good.”

The backs of Anna's eyes prickled. What Dorcas was saying was no more than what she'd thought herself, but it still hurt hearing it out loud. “He's looking for a housekeeper and someone to watch his children,” she murmured.

“Maybe he loved his Frieda so much that he doesn't want to feel that way about a second wife.” Dorcas's mouth turned up in a crooked smile that showed her broken tooth. “What you have to decide is if it matters. If having Samuel as your husband is more important than marrying someone who adores you—like Eli does your sister Ruth. Not everybody can have that.”

Anna sighed and she nibbled at her lower lip.

“I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.” Dorcas put down the fork. “You asked me, and I—”

“
Ne.
You didn't hurt my feelings,” Anna said. “I wanted the truth, and I knew you'd tell me exactly what you thought. It's what I thought, too, that maybe he was thinking more of the house and his kids than what
he
wanted.”

“I'd take him anyway,” her cousin said. “Having a husband like Samuel any way at all, has to be better than being an old maid.”

“Maybe so,” she agreed. It would be an answer to her prayers, wouldn't it? Having Samuel to cook and sew for…maybe, if the Lord was willing, maybe having babies with him.

“It would be enough for me,” Dorcas whispered, reaching for one of the big bowls of salad. “So you grab
him and hold onto him if you can. Because if he looked in my direction, I'd take him up on the offer in an Englisher's minute.”

O
utside, in Roman's long, open carriage shed, the men of the congregation gathered. It was a time to relax after the long and thought-provoking sermon. Neighbors shook hands, exchanged news about the various families' health, talked about the weather and what they would plant in the spring, and waited for the women to call them to the communal meal.

Samuel and Charley were discussing the merits of the new stock Charley had purchased at the Virginia auction. Samuel was keeping a sharp eye on Rudy and Peter when Shupp Troyer sauntered up and stuck out his hand.

“Awful cold for January, ain't it?” Shupp grabbed Samuel's hand and pumped it.

Samuel nodded. “This is when we generally get a warm spell before February hits.” He was still watching his twins, who, for once, seemed to be on their best behavior. The boys were standing with Lori Ann amid a crowd of children at Roman's back porch, where Anna and Miriam were handing out apples, buttered biscuits and small meat pies that would tide the little ones over until they got a chance to come to the table.

Samuel could remember how hungry he used to get,
waiting for the elders and guests, all the men and older boys, and finally the women and babies to eat before it got to the children's sitting. As usual, Anna Yoder had remembered the children and their growing appetites. He felt a surge of pride that she had such a good heart. He knew that if she accepted him, she'd make a good mother.

“Weatherman calling for more snow tomorrow.” Shupp droned on as he scratched his chin. “Don't usually get snow when the temperature drops this low. Makes it hard to tend to the animals. And makes my sprung back ache like a toothache.”

Not that you do much tending of anything around the farm,
Samuel thought. He'd never seen Noodle Shupp Troyer work a full day since he'd come to Delaware, and that was before his two daughters married and brought strong sons-in-law into his house to pick up the slack. Noodle could always be depended on to have some ailment to complain about at any gathering. Luckily for him, his girls had taken after his wife, Zipporah, and were as industrious as honey bees.

“Heard you was doing some work for Hannah,” Noodle said slyly. “Been traipsing up there a lot this past week, ain't you?” He raised one side of his bushy eyebrow. Noodle had a single eyebrow that extended in a thick line from the far corner of his left eye, over his nose, to the corner of his right eye. It was so wooly that Samuel once took it for a knit cap under the man's hat. “Guess there was need, with Hannah still away.”

“I did some painting for the Yoders,” Samuel admitted. “What with Jonas's mother coming to stay.” He was an easygoing man, and this was the Sabbath. It wouldn't do for him to let Noodle's gossiping ways get under his skin or cause him to have uncharitable thoughts.

“Some of Hannah's girls home to watch the farm,
ain't they? That big one, Anna?” Noodle chuckled and elbowed Samuel. “Now, she'll make an armful for some man.”

Samuel gritted his teeth and forced his voice to a neutral tone. “Anna's a good girl,” he said. “And there's no better cook in the county, for all her being but twenty-one. You've no call to poke fun at her.”

Noodle tugged at his eyebrow, pulling loose a few gray hairs and dropping them into the straw underfoot. “No offense, but sayin' that she's hefty ain't no more than the honest truth. 'Course…” He grinned at Charley. “Once Samuel here makes the widow his wife, it's natural he'll be scramblin' to find that one a husband—seein' as how she'll be his stepdaughter.”

Charley's normally genial expression darkened. “Anna may be bigger than most girls, but her heart's big to match.”

“Never meant no…”

The clang of Fanny's iron dinner triangle signaled the first seating. As a deacon of the church, Samuel was one of those so honored, and for once, he didn't mind leaving Charley and the younger men to join Reuben and Bishop Atlee and the others. If he stayed here any longer with Noodle Troyer, he'd say or do something that wouldn't set a good example for the younger people on a Church Sunday. He was a peaceful man, but he had his limits.

Noodle wasn't the brightest onion in the basket, and Samuel doubted he meant any harm, but he was slighting Anna with his loose talk. He had to knot his fists to keep from tossing the man into the nearest horse trough.

Lots of people would be sticking their noses in when he and Anna started officially courting, but that was their shortcoming. Anna and he were right for each other. Her size wasn't a problem for him, and it shouldn't be anyone
else's concern. He thought she was perfect, in a homey and comfortable way that a wife ought to be, and she had the most beautiful eyes. He was glad that Charley had stuck up for Anna, and he wished he'd said more. But it wouldn't be right to tell Noodle or anyone else what he figured on doing, not until he and Anna settled things between them.

As he crossed the snow-covered yard toward the house, he looked up and caught Anna watching him from the back step. Her basket, once full of foodstuffs, was empty, and the children had scattered to eat their prizes, but Anna still stood there, tall and fine in her starched
kapp
and best Sunday dress. It made him go all warm inside at the thought that she was watching him.

He smiled at her, but she didn't smile back. Her eyes went wide like a startled doe, and she darted back inside and slammed the door. Instantly, the good feeling in his chest became a cold hollow.

What if Anna didn't care for him in that way? What if she thought of him only as a neighbor and a fellow church member? What if he'd laid his heart open and she wouldn't have him? What then?

 

It was after three, when everyone had eaten and the young men were packing the benches into the church wagon, but Samuel still hadn't had a minute alone with Anna. She'd stayed in the kitchen, instead of serving at the tables, as she usually did. Now, when he had all five of his children gathered up and waiting in the buggy, he went to find her.

Fannie met him at the back door, and Samuel could see the kitchen was still crowded with chattering women cleaning up the last of the dishes and stowing leftover food. “Could I speak to Anna?” he asked.

“Anna Yoder?” Mischief sparkled in Fannie's eyes.

What Anna did she think he meant? The only other one he knew that was here today was three years old. “
Ya,
Anna Yoder.”

All the women in the kitchen were staring at him through the open kitchen door, and he felt his face grow hot. Growing up with older sisters, he'd always felt that women were so different from men that they might have been a different breed altogether. They always seemed to have secrets; and put two women together, and no matter how much he liked them, a man always felt tongue-tied.

Like the other day, when Anna had asked why he wanted to marry her, his brain had frozen and he'd mumbled something about hard work, when that hadn't been what he wanted to say at all. He
did
admire Anna for her cooking and her skill at sewing and such, but he would have wanted her if she couldn't boil water or thread a needle. It was her quiet way he loved most, her gentle nature and her generous heart. Any man ought to be able to see that Anna shone like wheat in a basket of chaff, and should be honored to have her walk out with him. But saying those fancy love words out loud were more than he could manage.

“Samuel?”

He blinked. He'd been daydreaming and not seen Anna until she was standing right in front of him. Susanna was right behind her; her little round face peered around Anna, full of curiosity.

“Like to take the two of you home,” he managed. “Maybe more snow. Sun be going down soon…get your feet wet.” His stomach knotted and he broke out in a cold sweat beneath his heavy coat. What was wrong with him, that he couldn't speak to Anna easy-like, as he had a thousand times since she was a young girl?

“Going with Charley and Miriam.” Susanna peeked around her sister. “In Charley's buggy.”

“Our things are already loaded,” Anna said. “They're coming to Mam's for coffee and evening prayer.”

“Ah. So you won't need a ride?” His heart sank. He'd hoped to drive her home, maybe go in for coffee and visiting.

“
Ne.
It's thoughtful of you to ask.” She smiled and closed the door while he stood there, leaving him feeling both disappointed and a little hurt.

He tried not to let any of his emotions show as he made his way to his buggy, but when he went to climb up in the front seat, his mouth dropped open in astonishment. Sitting there was not his little Mae or Naomi or even Lori Ann. Martha Coblentz was planted solidly on the bench, her feet against the kick board, her mouth tight and her shoulders stiff beneath her black wool cape.

“Martha?” He did a double take, wondering for a moment if he'd started to get in the wrong carriage. But, no, this was his horse, Smoky, his buggy, his five kids giggling in the back.
What was Martha doing here?
“Is there a problem?” he stammered. “Is your horse lame?”

“'Course not,” Martha said. “Don't talk foolishness, Samuel. I've been wanting to have a good talk with you for a long time, but you're a hard man to catch up with.” She waved her hand. “Well, don't just stand there. Get in.”

“Am I driving you to your house?”

She shook her head. “Reuben will be along to bring me home. Drive on to your farm, Samuel. You're blocking Lydia and Norman in.”

With a sigh, Samuel did as he was told. No good could come of this. He didn't need to be a smart man to know that. Martha, sister to Hannah Yoder's dead husband, and
Reuben's wife, was full of advice, and he was certain he was about to receive a good measure of it, whether he wanted it or not.

“I feel it's my duty to talk sense into you,” Martha said as they crossed the blacktop road in front of the chair shop. “You know that Frieda and I were close.”

Not that close,
Samuel thought, but he held his tongue. Frieda had once confided to him that she thought Martha should keep her nose in her own affairs, but… He stifled a groan. Frieda would have also been the first one to caution him about uncharitable thoughts on the Sabbath.

“She was a good wife, a good mother, a faithful member of the church,” Martha intoned. “Your Frieda was one of the best. You'll not find her equal.”

Samuel nodded and kept his eyes on the horse's rump. The road was icy, so he didn't want to drive fast and take a chance on the animal slipping. “She was and is still dear to me and the children.”

“But she's gone on to a better place,” Martha continued. “Frieda's with God. And you're here. With five children to raise. A house and a farm to run. You have responsibilities, Samuel, big responsibilities.”

He nodded again. Did she think he didn't know that? That he didn't pray for guidance every day—that he didn't worry about his children? That he wasn't lonely for a woman's smile and soft word?

“It's common knowledge that you've been calling at Hannah's regularly for the past two years,” Martha said, turning to look at him over her spectacles.

Samuel passed the lines from one hand to the other. The wind was blowing full into their faces, and he felt sorry for the horse. Luckily, they didn't have far to go, just past the schoolhouse to his lane, and that had trees on either side, to shield them from the icy blast. “Han
nah's lost her husband,” he said, “and she's been a good neighbor. It would be less than my duty to neglect her.”

“I'd say nothing bad about Hannah,” Martha went on. “Wasn't she my own dear brother's wife? But you're a young man, still in your prime. You've a big farm, and you need more sons to help in the fields. Hannah's too old for you, Samuel. There. I've said it to your face.”

“Hannah's hardly over the hill.”

“She's a grandmother. And too old to give you more children. You need a young woman, and I know of one who's secretly had affection for you for a long time.”

Suddenly understanding why Martha had approached him, Samuel straightened in the seat and began to smile. Relief eased the hard knot in his chest, and he didn't feel the cold anymore. Martha hadn't come to lecture him. She'd come as a go-between for Anna, her niece.

“You understand, I never intended to court Hannah,” he admitted. “We're friends, nothing more.”

“That's good to hear.” Martha didn't sound entirely convinced.

Smoky turned into the lane so fast that the buggy skidded sideways. The girls shrieked and Martha clutched the edge of the seat. Samuel reined the animal to a walk. “You'll be in the barn soon enough,” he soothed. Roman's place was close, no more than half a mile. Had it been just him and the two boys, they would have walked over to church, but it was too bitter a day for his daughters.

“My, but that gives a body a start,” Martha said, still clutching the seat. “We could have turned over.”

In the back of the buggy, the squeals had turned to giggles and whispering. Samuel decided the best course was to ignore them.

“
Ne.
We were in no danger. Just the lane's slippery.” More snowflakes were beginning to float down, large,
lacy ones that reminded him of meringue on one of Anna's lemon pies. The sky was already dark in the east, and the air smelled of snow. They might get a few more inches before it was done. He decided to keep the cows inside tonight. “It eases my mind, you telling me this,” he admitted. “I was wondering whether she was favorable toward me or not.”

“Oh, she favors you well enough, but she's modest, as an unmarried girl should be. But she thinks of you a lot, enough to make a chicken pot pie for your supper tonight. I tucked it into the back of the buggy, wrapped in toweling to keep it warm. Along with some potato salad and apple cake. You'll not have to do a thing. I'll put the food on the table and Naomi and the girls can set out the dishes and flatware while you're doing your chores.”