Second Chances (10 page)

“Your son could use your comfort,” Cris protested in earnest.

“And to think that your
maem
and
schwesters
went to introduce themselves without
me!” She went on, ignoring her husband's concern. “They could have at least asked
me to accompany them.” Her face softened as her mood swung from anger to self-pity,
two facial expressions she had become a master at toggling, shifting from one to
the other in order to drive home her point. “I get so tired of being home all the
time. Even Anna's company can entertain me only so far!”

Anna took no offense at her sister's words, knowing only too well that there was
no point. Besides, she knew where
the conversation was going and what the outcome
would be. There was no point in trying to interject. While she also agreed that Mary
should stay with her child, Anna knew all too well that it would not happen.

“
Mayhaps
I could go for just a short time,” Mary continued, glancing at the sleeping
boy, the glass of water tipped in his hand and the liquid soaking the edge of the
blanket by his shoulder. “He
is
sleeping. I dare say he won't awaken anytime soon!
A few minutes to meet them,
ja
?”

Cris frowned. “Leave him alone? Now Mary, I don't care for that idea.”

Immediately, Mary bristled at the implied criticism. “Of course not, Cris! I'd go
over to greet them and you stay with the boys. Then I'll return so you can join them
for the meal.” Then, with a long, drawn-out sigh, she glanced upwards as if thinking
before she added, “Such a shame, though. I know Sara Coblentz will be so disappointed.
She has no acquaintances here, and I dare say that I have more in common with her
than your two
schwesters
.” When Cris lifted an eyebrow in response to her statement,
she quickly added, “Being married and all.”

“I see.”

Dropping her shoulders, Mary accepted defeat. “I suppose no one would think well
of me for leaving the boy.” She leaned over and picked up the glass, pausing to push
the wet edge of the blanket away from his shoulder. “I was so looking forward to
going . . . ”

There it is
, Anna thought, listening from the kitchen: the cue for Anna to step forward.
Oh, it was a routine that she knew well, for Mary had perfected it in her youth:
playing the martyr in such a way that Anna felt guilty. Only this time, she didn't
feel guilty; she felt relieved.

Drying her hands on the dish towel, Anna turned away from the sink and quietly offered,
“I'll stay with the
kinner
.”
There
, she thought,
the deed is done
. She didn't mind
anyway. It was the perfect excuse to avoid meeting Freman again after so many years.

Immediately at the suggestion, Mary brightened, looking first at Anna and then at
her husband, a smile forming on her lips. “Why, that's a
wunderbarr
idea!” Gone were
the emotions of disappointment, self-pity, and vexation. Instead, she added praise
for her sister, a way of rationalizing the decision to pawn off her sick child's
care onto another: “Anna's ever so much better at calming the child anyway. I wouldn't
be much use at home, no more so than you, I reckon.” With a newfound energy, Mary
bustled about the room, taking a moment to glance in the small mirror that hung over
a wash sink in the back of the kitchen. She touched her hair, making certain it was
properly tucked beneath her prayer
kapp
. “I haven't been to visit at the house anyway
since . . . the last time,” she offered in her most serious tone.

Cris took a deep breath and shook his head. “I would imagine that's true . . . ”

Mary waved her hand at him. “You know what I mean.” Dissatisfied with her dress,
for she had worn it more than once since it was last laundered, Mary decided to change.
She hurried up the narrow staircase, her bare feet thumping against the steps as
she ascended to the second floor.

With a defeated sigh, Cris followed, knowing that he should change from his work
clothes and wash up
since he was to meet these newcomers for the first time. While
he was not fastidious with his appearance, he was not one to desire incurring the
wrath of his wife should she feel that he presented anything less than an impeccable
image to others.

Anna dried her hands on a dry dish towel near the sink and went over to sit on the
edge of the sofa. She brushed the hair from little Cris's forehead. It was cooler
than before but still warm. When her hand touched his shoulder, she frowned, realizing
that, in her sister's concern for herself, Mary had not considered the fact that
the spilled water had seeped through the blanket and dampened his shirt. Without
a word, Anna quickly hurried to the closet and retrieved a fresh blanket to replace
the wet one that covered him.

It was a gesture no one would notice, she reckoned.

By the time Mary and Cris returned downstairs ready to depart to meet the Coblentz
family, Anna was sitting in a recliner. Walter was nestled in her lap as the two
of them looked through a picture book about the great Flood. The book's edges worn
and the cover torn, it was a book that had passed through many different hands over
the generations. It was also a book that Anna had read numerous times to her nephews.
She liked to read to them at night, often choosing stories from the Bible. This one
was a particular favorite, especially since Anna would pause at the end of each page,
asking them to point out the different animals that approached the ark, testing their
knowledge of both Dutch and English vocabularies.

In her hurry to leave the house, Mary barely did more than say good night to her
sons since she wouldn't return home until after they were tucked into bed. As for
Anna,
Mary didn't even pause to express her gratitude, a fact that caused Cris to
frown even if Anna didn't give it a second thought. And then Mary glanced, once again,
into the hand mirror before she went outside to wait on the front porch for her husband.

Clearing his throat, Cris hesitated in the doorway and cast a compassionate look
at his sister-in-law. “I would have preferred that you go, Anna,” he said, his tone
sounding regretful despite his inability to stand up to his wife. “But Mary was anticipating
the visit, so your offer to stay is greatly appreciated.”

Anna inclined her head at the acknowledgment. “Anyone would do the same,
ja
?”

He was about to respond but their conversation was interrupted.

“Come along, Cris!” Mary called to her husband from the front porch. There was no
need to second guess her impatience. The last thing she wanted was to arrive after
Freman and the Coblentz family. “We don't want to be late!”

Taking a deep breath, Cris reached for his straw hat and slid it atop his head. He
gave Anna one last encouraging smile before he disappeared through the door.

Anna could hear Mary talking to him, her voice slowly fading away as they walked
down the driveway toward the main house. She shut her eyes, just for a moment, listening
for the sound of the Coblentzes' buggy about to arrive. She wondered if Freman would
ride with them or bring his own buggy; most likely the latter as the former would
limit his independence to leave at will.

The sound of young Walter crying diverted her attention. When the adults were talking,
he had climbed down from her lap to play.

“
Wie gehts
, Walter?” she asked. He had fallen and bumped his head on the furniture.
Wrapping him into her arms, she sat on the floor, rocking him back and forth to soothe
him. She never heard the sound of the two buggies that pulled into the driveway,
passing the small house in front of its entrance as they traveled to the larger of
the Mussers' homes in the back, near the garden.

Chapter Five

O
VER MORNING COFFEE
, Mary sat at the kitchen table, a wistful smile on her lips as
she stared at the wall, her eyes clouded over with satisfaction. Her spoon tapped
rapidly against the edge of the coffee cup, the gentle noise almost as constant as
the ticking of the clock upon the wall.

“I wonder which one it will be,” she said dreamily.

Anna glanced up from where she sat on the bench, encouraging Cris Junior to eat his
toast. His fever was gone, but he had not yet regained his energy or his appetite.
He sat next to her at the kitchen table, his head pressed against his cheek, and
shook his head at Anna's patient attempts. Walter still slept, for which Anna was
thankful. With Mary in such a dreamy state, Anna knew that it would fall to her to
tend to Walter's needs when he awoke. “Which one
what
will be, Mary?”

“Not ‘what'!
Who
!” Mary laughed, a childish sound of delight.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Anna replied.

With a quick rolling of her eyes, Mary leaned forward and said, “Why, which girl
has caught Freman's eye!”

Her sister's statement felt like a knife cutting through Anna's heart. Mary never
knew of her aborted courtship with Freman, of course. Mary had been both too young
and too self-absorbed to pay much attention to Anna and her despondent state. But
had she already so accepted that Anna was an old
maedel
that she couldn't even fathom
the idea of Freman as a potential suitor for her single sister?

While she had decidedly avoided being in his presence the previous evening, voluntarily
offering to sit with the two boys, it never had dawned on Anna that either of the
Musser daughters would be considered a match for Freman. Notwithstanding the age
difference, a match between Leah or Hannah with Freman would imply a move to another
state. Yet Salome's dependence on her daughters was clear to everyone who knew her.
And, of course, the idea that one of Mary's sisters-in-law might become Freman's
wife rekindled the remorse she felt at declining his offer of marriage.

Cris laughed at his wife's question. “Leah, no doubt. She is a bit high-spirited!
I rather think that would be quite a complementary match for Freman,
ja
?”

“
Nee
, you are incorrect!” Mary pouted. “Hannah. She is far prettier . . . in a plain
sort of way. I don't think Leah would suit someone as stoic and proper as Freman
Whittmore! Why, he's so serious and practical and godly, I think Leah's silliness
would not sit well with him at all.”

From what Anna could gather from the bits and pieces of information that Mary provided,
the previous day's visit had been rather successful. Sara Coblentz fit in wonderfully
well with the Musser women, despite the strange, flimsy-shaped prayer
kapp
that she
wore. As for her husband, George, everyone found him much to their
liking, enjoying
his stories and wise contributions to the discussion.

“It's not everyone who could remain so interested in hearing about your parents'
cousins and nephews and whatever else seems to slip off your
maem
's tongue,” Mary
said airily. “It isn't as if he knew anyone!”

“A fine addition to our community,” Cris agreed, ignoring his wife's slight toward
his mother. “A most agreeable evening,
ja
?” As if in an afterthought, he turned
to Anna and gave her a quick smile. “Your presence was missed by all.”

“All but that Freman, for sure and certain,” Mary added dismissively. “He did not
speak well of Anna, although he seemed most attentive to me, didn't he, Cris?”

Anna was used to Mary deflecting attention back to herself, whether by changing the
subject so that she could be the center of it or by debasing whoever
was
the subject,
in this case, Anna. While she normally simply ignored her sister's uncultured approach
to socializing, this time Anna looked up and stared at Mary. No words could express
the sinking feeling that was forming in her stomach.