Annie's Truth (Touch of Grace) (3 page)

A chest of drawers held baby clothes, and beside it stood a cabinet full of documents and paperwork Daed kept but never seemed to use. Special dresses and a bonnet hung on the far side of the room alongside a box of old toys her daed and Eli had made.

The girls spotted the chests lined up next to one another, where they would remain until their owners were married. Amos had made each of his girls one in which to keep their sentimental belongings. One day, when they had their own homes, they would have a memory of their daed and the things they held dear during their childhood.

Annie ran to the last one. Amos had lined them up according to age, so Hanna’s was right next to Annie’s. “You first,” Annie told Hanna.

“Nee, you.” Hanna moved closer to Annie and watched her lift the heavy wooden lid. “I can’t wait.” Hanna went to her chest and opened it as well. “Ach, I’d forgotten.” Hanna reached for the doll Mamm had made for her.

Annie grabbed hers, and they examined them together, just alike and equally worn. “I loved this doll! I had forgotten how much I played with it when I was a child.” The black bonnet was torn around the back, and the hay stuffing peeked out the back of the doll’s dress.

“Mine is tattered as well. I’m glad we put them away when we did, or there would be nothing left of them.” Hanna glanced at Annie’s doll.

Annie placed the doll in her lap and pulled out her wedding quilt, the one of many colors. Hanna’s was a box design, and Annie’s was circles within circles, resembling the circle of life. She ran her hand across the beautifully stitched material and admired her mamm’s handiwork. When she looked up, Hanna was doing the same.

Their eyes met. “Hold yours up so I can see.” Hanna’s voice was soft and breathy. “It’s beautiful, Annie. You’re lucky to be closer to marrying than me.”

Annie tilted her head and turned the quilt to face her. “I don’t feel ready.”

Hanna’s brows drew together in question. “Why? You’ve always known you’ll be with John. And he is a handsome one.” She grinned. “I’ll take him off your hands.”

Annie tried to force a smile. “Why has everyone chosen my spouse for me?”

Hanna put her quilt back into the chest. “Don’t let your mind wander. Just be happy with the way things are.”

Annie fell silent, in thought. “Questioning is how we find the truth.”

“The truth has already been found.” Hanna reached for her family Bible as she spoke.

Annie nodded, humbled, and looked for her special Bible. She moved a carved toy Eli had made for her and a book her mamm had given to her. Finally, at the very bottom, she found a Bible the minister gave her. As she opened it up, she skimmed through the flimsy pages. She went to the very front of the book and smiled when she saw how she had written her name as a young girl. The letters were varied sizes and uneven.

Her mamm’s and daed’s names were both written under hers, their dates of birth, and a list of her brothers and sisters under that. Births and other dates of additional relatives proceeded on to the next page, including the dates of their marriages. Annie flipped back to the first page and noticed the day of her birth was missing. Only the year was written; the day did not precede it, only the month.

“Hanna, come look.” Annie handed her the Bible and searched her sister’s face for some sign that she knew the reason for the omission. Annie thought back to the days her family recognized her birthday—one in particular.

Birthdays were often celebrated after church service on Sundays when everyone was already together and they wouldn’t take time away from daily chores during the week. This being tradition, Annie didn’t think much of the exact date of her birth. Thoughts of self were discouraged. Everyone was treated equally so as to prevent pride.

On Annie’s thirteenth birthday she had been surprised by her family and friends with a party. A cake with thirteen candles was brought out, and gifts were given. Her brother had made her a handmade wooden box, and her sister, a picture of flowers. Other useful gifts such as nonperishable food and fancy soaps made by her aunt in the shape of animals piled up on the picnic table next to a half-eaten cake.

The best gift was from John. He had taken an orange crate and decorated it with his wood-burning tools. It was filled with small, flat wooden figures of every significant person in her life. The time and care he had put into the gift had touched Annie. She treated the present with such care she had thought it wise to store it in her hope chest. Now Annie wished she had enjoyed the box more.

She searched for it now and found the pieces scattered throughout the bottom of the chest. She picked up the wooden figures one by one, examined them, and put them in the box. Although they all looked alike, as no graven images were permitted, she used her imagination to pick out each person. Frieda, Hanna, Augustus, Eli, Thomas, and Samuel were all accounted for, then Mamm and her daed, her mammi and dawdi—grandparents—then John and her. All of the boy figures looked the same as well except for their height, facial hair, and a hat her dawdi always wore.

She’d envision John’s figure to be the exception. He had a thick head of black hair and always wore it a bit longer than he should. He could always get away with such things due to his charismatic personality. That was something not encouraged, so not often seen in their community.

Annie ran a finger along the small wooden likeness of John and wondered if she shouldn’t dismiss him so readily. As a friend she adored him, but the thought of marrying him annoyed her. But did that feeling come because of him, or was it her?

Hanna’s sigh brought Annie back to the moment. Hanna looked from her Bible to Annie’s. “That’s odd, isn’t it?”

Annie turned a crisp page and stared at the words again. “I wonder if Mamm simply didn’t remember to fill in the day.”

Hanna frowned. “It’s not like Mamm to forget to do anything like this.”

Annie didn’t want to believe that Mamm forgot, and Hanna was right in that their mamm never left anything undone, especially when it came to her children. “I’m sure there’s a reason.”

“The only thing left to do is ask.” Hanna closed the Bible and handed it to Annie.

Annie took the black book, its pages edged with light gold.

“Don’t you want to?” Hanna grasped her hands together and set them on her knees.

“Jah, I do.” Annie stroked the top of the golden pages with her finger. “And then I don’t.”

Hanna grunted. “Well, that’s silly.”

Annie stopped and took the Bible in both hands. “But I have a strange feeling.” Annie squeezed the Good Book. “Maybe it’s better if I don’t know.”

 
Chapter Two
 

T
HAT NIGHT AS
Hanna turned her back toward Annie and fell asleep, Annie lay awake, unhappy that Hanna didn’t understand her hesitancy to approach Mamm to ask a question to which Annie didn’t know if she wanted the answer. Curiosity plagued her, but so did fear. She couldn’t help but think there was a reason they had decided not to tell her, and that reason could only be that it was something terrible. It wasn’t until another day had passed that Annie found an opportunity and courage to talk with her mamm alone.

After the evening meal was over Mamm sat mending by the fire. She rocked forward slowly in her chair until it creaked, then swayed backward. She lifted her eyes to Annie as she approached with her Bible in hand. Mamm turned pale then patted the hearth for Annie to sit while she continued to sew.

“What is it, Annie?” She took a sock with a hole in the heel, pulled it over a potato, and then took the needle and began to darn the nickel-size hole together.

Annie was glad her daed wasn’t there. It was hard enough to talk to Mamm about this, let alone have Daed in the room. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go on.” She stuck the needle through the sock, closing the hole completely, and then bit at the thread with her teeth.

“When Hanna and I were looking through our chests, I saw in my Bible that there is no day by the month and year I was born.”

Mamm slowly lay down the sock she was darning and shifted her eyes to Annie. She didn’t speak for a moment but took the Bible and studied the page. Then she called out to Amos, who was fetching his journal in the next room.

Annie furrowed her brow. “Don’t you know?” Annie chuckled mockingly at the thought.

Her daed walked under the doorway, missing the beam by less than an inch, and sat in the chair next to Mamm. He looked from Mamm to Annie. “I hope this is to make some plans for Annie and John.”

Annie squinted in frustration. If she didn’t know better, she would think her daed wanted to get rid of her, but she knew he was a serious man, with plans and goals laid out that he didn’t want disturbed. “I want to know the day I was born, that’s all.”

Her daed lifted his head and then let out a long breath. Mamm sat still and waited for Amos to speak.

Annie’s voice rose in frustration. “Why can’t you just tell me?”

Her daed leaned forward in his chair and looked directly at Annie, something she could never remember him doing. “You’re not our blood, Annie.”

Annie’s heart stopped for a second and then began to beat wildly. She slowly shook her head. Her mouth fell open, but no words came forth. The concern Hanna thought was an overreaction on Annie’s part was turning into reality.

“How can that be?”

“We found you in the north field. A newborn babe.” Her daed spoke plainly, with no emotion. When Annie opened her mouth, he held up a finger to silence her. “We had the midwife come. Alma said you were in bad shape, didn’t know how you’d survived.”

Annie’s body was numb, her mind tangled. Words floated around in her brain, but none connected.

She glanced at Mamm, who watched the conversation unfold with heaviness in her eyes. Although she didn’t speak, Annie felt her concern. Amos pursed his lips and folded his fingers together, waiting.

Annie’s first organized thought was about being taken to the community midwife, unclaimed and abandoned.

“Did you…adopt me?”

“Jah,” Amos grunted.

“Who else knows besides Alma?”

“Most of our generation,” Mamm answered after a brief hesitation. “But your brothers and sisters don’t, or anyone born in their time. Since you are the oldest, there have never been any questions.”

Annie believed this, as it was not their way to talk of such things. Still digesting what she’d just heard, she sat silently, not knowing what to say.

Mamm moved forward in her chair. “Annie, you were a gift, given to us by Gott. We were humbled that He would give us the opportunity to raise you.” Mamm paused with a deep breath of emotion. “You are one of our own.”

Annie’s eyes welled. As much as she knew this was true, she felt as if a piece had been taken out of her. Everything she had thought was her identity wasn’t. Her voice trembled as she asked, “Why didn’t you just put the day you found me in the Bible?”

“You were found early in the morning, long before the sun was up. The coyotes started howling, waking your daed. He took his gun to shoot a coyote and came home with you instead.” Mamm gave Annie a small smile. “Alma told us you could have been born just as easily before midnight or early that morning.”

“And nothing is recorded in the Holy Bible that isn’t pure truth.” Amos’s voice was heated.

The truth. Did Gott really want her world to be broken because of a few hours unaccounted for? Daed was too rigid. He was no less a hypocrite than the Pharisees, that’s what her daed was–a man of the law, living strictly by rules. Guilt from her thoughts stung in her chest. Where did this anger come from? It wasn’t really him she was upset with; it was the person who’d abandoned her.

Then the questions started building. “If I’m not who I thought I was, who am I?”

Mamm sat up straight in her chair. “You are Annie Beiler, daughter of Amos and Sarah Beiler.”

Amos hit the arm of his chair with a
slap
! “You should be rejoicing that your life was spared.”

Annie jumped at the noise. Tears flooded her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Maybe she was Annie Beiler here, but somewhere else she was someone by a different name. “I don’t mean to disrespect. I just feel different.” How ironic in a place where everyone is the same. But she wasn’t now. She would always wonder where she came from and why.