Anna's Gift (8 page)

Aunt Martha sat up to her full height and tightened her thin mouth. “Samuel Mast has been making noises about wanting to court your Anna. It's ridiculous, of course. You need to put a stop to it before Anna gets her heart broken or becomes a joke.”

“Anna?” Rebecca asked incredulously, turning her gaze on her sister. “But I thought Samuel and Mam were…were…”

Anna felt her face flush.

Martha turned around in her chair to address Rebecca. “Am I talking to you, girl? I'm talking to your mother, and it would behoove you to hold your tongue and show some respect.”

Anna's stomach turned over as she gripped the back of
one of the kitchen chairs. She opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out. She glanced at her mother to see Mam's questioning look, and felt her face grow even hotter. She'd had no chance to speak to Mam, yet; she hadn't expected Aunt Martha to bring the news so quickly. She never should have talked to Dorcas before talking to Mam.

“I don't know what's gotten into the man. Has he buckwheat for brains? Probably his frustration with his poorly behaved children. They're out of control, I tell you.”

“Ne.”
Anna bristled. “Samuel's children—”

“I'll not have you defend them. They are monsters,” Aunt Martha declared. “Those twins put fresh, runny cow manure in my boots last night. Can you believe it? Ruined a pair of perfectly good boots. I'll never get the stink out of them. Samuel's buying me a new pair. You can be certain of that. But don't tell me that the lot of them are better than wild little animals.”

“Cow manure?” Susanna echoed.

Leah coughed, put a hand over her mouth, and fled the kitchen. Rebecca and Dorcas were hot on her heels.

Cowards,
Anna thought. She looked back at Mam. She wasn't smiling.

“If they did that, they certainly deserve punishing,” Mam said. “I'm sorry about your boots, but what does that have to do with Anna and Samuel?”

“Dorcas tells me he wants to court Anna. Samuel's gone soft in the head, I tell you. I told Reuben to speak to the bishop. You know Samuel can do better than Anna.”

“And how could he
do better than Anna?
” Mam asked. Her voice was low, her eyes cool.

Anna knew that look, and knew that this was no place for Susanna. Quickly, Anna moved to the stove, dipped a
bowl of chicken noodle soup, added a spoon and pushed it into her little sister's hands. “Take this to Grossmama,” she ordered.

“But she wants crackers,” Susanna said.

“Soup first,” Anna said, and Susanna did as she was asked.

“Why is that so strange, that Samuel should want to take my Anna to wife?” Mam asked, folding her arms over her chest and taking a step toward Aunt Martha. “What is wrong with Anna?”

Anna's chest felt tight. Tears stung the backs of her eyelids. She was ashamed, and she didn't know why. She wanted to run after her sisters, but she wouldn't leave her mother to face Aunt Martha's sharp tongue alone. If she didn't have the nerve to defend herself, she would at least stand with Mam.

Aunt Martha's face turned the color of lard and her mouth pursed. “Not wrong, maybe,” she said. “Just not…not proper.”

“How not proper?” Mam persisted. “My Anna is a good girl.” Mam now glared at Aunt Martha with a gaze hot enough to fry eggs. “Why wouldn't Samuel want her?”

“Well, because she's…”

“I'm Plain, that's what she means,” Anna whispered. She felt sick. “Too Plain for a man like Samuel Mast.” She blinked and sat down hard.

Unbidden, a bad memory came back to her, a memory that haunted her dreams. She'd been in second grade, maybe third, but she was chunky then, the fattest girl in the school.

Someone had left a big section of pipe on the edge of the schoolyard. The boys started crawling through
it at recess, and one day, Miriam did, too. Then, all the smaller girls wiggled through the pipe.

Anna refused to join them until the King boys started teasing her, shouting, “Fat, fat, the barn rat.”

“She is not!” Miriam had protested. “You can do it, Anna. Show them!”

Against her better judgment, Anna had tried to crawl down the dark pipe, but at the end, where it got even smaller, she'd gotten stuck. She started to cry, and the teacher came running to see what was wrong. The only way they got her out was when Ruth crawled down the pipe and pulled her backwards by her feet.

In the process, Anna had torn her
kapp
and her stockings, and all the kids laughed. She was so upset that she'd thrown up all over her new blue sneakers in front of everyone.

“You see,” Aunt Martha flung back, ripping Anna out of her thoughts. “Anna sees it. She knows she's fat. You're blind, Hannah, blind to the faults of your girls.”

“And how, exactly, is it Anna's fault if God has made her beautiful in a different way?”

“Not only her size…her looks. It's not…not appropriate,” Aunt Martha stammered. “What with Samuel courting you for so long. People will talk.”

Mam closed in on Aunt Martha. “Who says that Samuel was courting me?”

“Why…why, everyone. Everyone knows he was. Now, suddenly, it's Anna he wants. It might likely be Leah next week. Or Rebecca! It's not right. Not fitting.”

“No matter what you think, no matter what
anyone
thinks, there was never an understanding between me and Samuel. He is my good friend, Martha. Nothing more. And if he wishes to court Anna, or Leah for that matter, both girls are of age to walk out with a decent
man of our faith. And, who they choose to be with is none of your affair.”

Aunt Martha grabbed her coat and threw it around her shoulders. “Dorcas!” she shouted. “Dorcas! We're leaving.”

“You are always welcome in my home, sister,” Mam said. “But only if you can refrain from insulting one of my girls.”

“I came here out of the goodness of my heart,” Aunt Martha flung back. “So that Anna wouldn't be shamed in front of the community.”

“I thought you came to see your mother and Aunt Jezebel.”

“That, too. Don't change the subject. You're too bull-headed to listen to common sense, Hannah. You always were.” She planted both feet and settled her hands on her bony hips. “There are more appropriate choices for Samuel Mast, and he will soon come to realize that. He will never marry your Anna, no matter what you think.”

“Anna,” Mam said gently. “Would you show your aunt out?”

Anna swung open the door to the porch and a blast of icy air struck her full in the face. She gasped. Samuel was standing on the porch, his fist raised to knock. “Samuel?”

“Anna.” He took a step forward onto the threshold and stopped, half in the kitchen and half out. “I came to speak to Hannah…and to you.”

“Samuel.” Martha sniffed. “I should think you would have a great deal to say for yourself—for your actions.”

Anna turned to meet her mother's gaze.

“Come in, Samuel,” Hannah said. “Martha was just leaving.”

Samuel looked from Mam to Aunt Martha to her.
“Anna, if I could talk to your mother… Say what I should have said…”

“Take my word on it,” Aunt Martha pronounced. “You'll be sorry you didn't ask Dorcas. She'll not be available long!”

“Mother!” Dorcas, her face as red as a radish, cried. “Don't—”

“I'm the one voice of reason,” Aunt Martha said. “You'll all come to see that.” She pushed past Samuel and out of the house. Dorcas seized her coat and ran after her, looking as if she was about to burst into tears.

“Have I come at a bad time?” Samuel asked.

“Ne,”
Anna said, taking down Dat's big brown mug and pouring him a cup of coffee with shaking hands. “I think you have come at
exactly
the right time.”

S
amuel stood there, frozen to the spot, until Hannah nodded. “Sit down, Samuel,” she said, sitting down. “We do have much to talk about.”

He sat at the table, holding his coffee mug between his big hands and wishing he were anywhere but here. “The last thing I wanted to do was make trouble for you, Hannah, or for your family.”

Mam motioned toward the coffeepot, and Anna took her mother's cup and refilled it. Anna carried the steaming cup to Hannah and joined them at the table. “Mam…” she began.

Hannah shook her head. “I think we should let our guest tell us why he's come. It's a cold afternoon, with evening chore time coming on fast. It must be important, to bring Samuel here.”

“Ya,”
he agreed. “It is. But maybe you and me should talk, Hannah. Alone?” He glanced at Anna. She looked as if she had been crying, and he felt a stab in his gut. He'd never wanted to hurt Anna. But there were Hannah's feelings to consider, as well. Had he given the impression that he was courting her? If he had, he'd be
trayed their friendship. And it wouldn't be right for him to begin courting Anna without settling the matter.

“My Anna is a grown woman and dear to me,” Hannah replied. “Whatever you have to say, you may say to both of us.”

He nodded. “All right.” Stalling for time, he took a sip of the coffee. Somehow he swallowed wrong, coughed, and then choked, spitting coffee across the table and feeling like a total dumbkin. “Sorry,” he blurted. “I didn't mean—”

Anna silenced him with a smile. “There is no need. It's easily fixed.” She went to the sink, returned with a cloth and wiped the tabletop clean.

“Now, what has my sister-in-law in such a stew?” Hannah asked. Her expression was serious, but a hint of amusement lurked in her eyes.

Anna turned her gaze on her mother. “It's a long story, but while you were gone, Samuel came to paint and—”

“Never mind the painting,” he said. “That's not important. I'm afraid I've…I've hurt your feelings, Hannah. Did you think I've been courting you these past two years? If I caused you to—”

Hannah held up a palm. “Hush, Samuel. What I might have wondered and what I was certain of are two different things. You never asked, and I never did either. You're too good a friend to me and to my daughters to let a silly misunderstanding come between us. The truth is, if you'd outright asked to court me, I would have refused. In my heart, I'm still Jonas's wife. Maybe my love for him will always come first, but I know that as much as I care for you, it was never in that way. You're a good neighbor, and we've shared laughter and tears together, but nothing more.”

“So you're not angry with me for wanting to court Anna?”

“Ah.” Hannah steepled her hands, and Anna made a soft sound in her throat. “So it
is
true? You two are walking out together? Without consulting me? Without asking my permission?”

Samuel rose to his feet, knotting his hands nervously. “I wanted to speak with you. I meant to, but…” He glanced at Anna, trying to figure what she was thinking, and then looked back at her mother. “You're right. I should have asked you.” He exhaled. “None of my reasons seem all that good, now that I think on them.”

“Sit down,” Hannah said gently. “Drink your coffee. The worst is over. Now we can talk, friend to friend,
ya?
”

He still wasn't sure if he was welcome here. “Anna?” he said. “Do you want me to leave?”

She shook her head. “
Ne,
Samuel,” she murmured.

She looked small and helpless, and he wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her so tight that he could feel the beat of her heart, but he knew that was out of the question. Hannah might still refuse her permission, and then what would they do? Anna would never go against her family for him, would she? He wished he hadn't come. He wished that he'd waited until he could talk to Anna again, to see how she felt.

“Widowers with children often marry girls younger than them,” Hannah said. “Clary and Moses Peachy? He had seven children.”

“But Clary was in her thirties, with a child of her own,” he said, taking his seat again.

Hannah studied her daughter for what seemed like centuries, but he knew it could have been only a few seconds. His chest felt so tight that he thought he would explode.

He cleared his throat. “Hannah, I ask your permission to court your daughter, Anna,” he said woodenly. “In every way that is proper and according to our custom. And if we suit each other, I want to make her my wife and the mother to my children.”

Hannah pursed her lips. “Was that so hard? Samuel, Samuel, you men make things more difficult for yourselves.” She cut her eyes at her daughter, who was blushing. “Now, you must ask Anna if she wishes you to court her.”

“He did,” Anna managed in a small, breathy voice. “I told him that I wanted to talk with you first and pray on it. Then I made the mistake of confiding in Dorcas. She must have told her mother last night after church, after Aunt Martha stopped by to see Samuel.” She looked at him. “I'm sorry, Samuel. I should have known Dorcas would tell her mother.”

Hannah reached across and patted Anna's hand. “Who knew what or when they knew it isn't all that important. My question is, did you give him an answer? Do you want him to walk out with you or not?”

A lump rose in Samuel's throat. This was exactly why he had been putting off asking Anna. Because this was it…or could be. Right here at this kitchen table Anna could say she had no feelings for him, that she never could. And that would be the end of it. There would be no more dreams of cozy evenings in his kitchen with Anna…or sharing his warm bed with her.

Anna broke through his worries with a long sigh. Moisture flooded her beautiful eyes. “I haven't had time to think it out,” she said.

“Have you prayed about this, Daughter?” Hannah asked.

“
Ya,
I have, but I'm still confused.”

“Is there no chance for me, then?” he asked, his voice sounding shaky in his own ears. “Is there someone else you'd rather—”

“I told you,” Anna said, all in a rush. “It isn't you. You're…wonderful. It's me I'm not sure about.”

She thought he was wonderful.
Relief turned his bones to warm butter. “I'm not too old for you?” he ventured.

Anna shook her head. “You're exactly the right age.” She looked down at her clasped hands. “The boys my age seem so…so feather-headed to me sometimes. And you're different…more sensible.”

“Does the thought of being mother to Samuel's five children frighten you?” Hannah asked, taking Anna's hand again and squeezing it. “It isn't wrong to feel that way. Better that you admit it, if that's how—”

“I love his…your,” she corrected. “I love your children,” she admitted shyly. “Even the twins, who find trouble like Irwin finds laziness. They are good, sweet children, all of them, and I can see how they need the care of a mother.”

He drew in a ragged breath and his heartbeat quickened. “Then why won't you…”

Hannah raised her hand again. “Listen to her, Samuel. I think what Anna is saying is that she needs time to decide what is best to do…time to get to know you.”

“But she's known me most of her life,” he protested.

“But as Samuel,” Anna put in. “I've known you as our neighbor, as our deacon, and as a member of the school board—not as…as…”

“Not as a beau,” Hannah finished. “She's right, Samuel. You've dropped this on her quickly. Anna's not had much experience at riding in a buggy with a young man, or sitting with him on the porch swing.”

“It's a little cold for porch swings, don't you think?” he asked.

“What I mean is, my Anna is not a flighty girl. I've kept her close at home, maybe more than I should have. She's always such a help to me.”

“I know she is…must be. I mean to court her properly, but how can I, if she won't agree…if she's not willing?” He stood up and went to Anna's side and looked down at her. “This has not been a decision I've made lightly. I've thought about you for a long time…prayed for guidance.” He gazed into her eyes. “Anna, I believe God intends you to be my wife.”

“Lots of people
think
they know what the Lord intends,” Hannah said. “It may be that this is right. But there can be no harm in waiting a little longer, so that Anna can be sure.”

Anna averted her eyes, but he could see that she was trembling.

“I think my Anna would be glad to have the opportunity to consider your proposal, but she doesn't want to commit herself yet. Is that right, Anna?”

She nodded shakily. “That's it exactly, Samuel. I want time.”

Disappointment made his reply gruffer than he intended. “How much time were you wanting?”

Anna cast a desperate glance at her mother.

“What if we say by her next birthday?” Hannah suggested. “She will be twenty-two on the twenty-fifth of February. Would that suit you, Anna?”

Anna nodded.
“Ya.”

“And you, Samuel? Is that agreeable to you?”

“Ya,”
he agreed. “I've waited this long, I can wait a few weeks more. But I hope that I can call on Anna…that we can spend time together before that.”

“I think that would be lovely,” Hannah said. “So long as she feels comfortable. Would you like that, Daughter?”

Anna nodded again, glanced up at him, and offered a tremulous smile. “I think I would.”

“It's settled then,” Hannah said, bringing her hand down on the table. “And we'll keep this between ourselves until the two of you come to a firm decision. No sense in giving Martha and the other gossips more fuel for the fire.”

“Hannah!” An older woman's shrill voice sounded from the back of the house. “Where's my Jonas? He can't still be milking those cows.”

Hannah rose to her feet. “Anna's Grossmama. She's tired from the trip and a little confused. I should tend to her.” She smiled. “Anna, would you pour Samuel some more coffee?”

He shook his head, moving around to the other side of the table. “
Ne.
Best I be heading home. See what those rascals of mine are up to. Cows will need tending soon.”

“No need to run off,” Hannah assured him. “Stay and have another cup. I believe I saw a pumpkin pie in the refrigerator. You're welcome to a slice.”

“I should be going,” he said.

“You have time for pie.” Anna got up. “I made four. There's a pear pie you can carry home to the children.”

His mouth watered at the thought of Anna's piecrust. He'd had a slice of Dorcas's chicken pie the night before, and the crust was soggy. Anna's were always good. And if Hannah was leaving them alone, there was something else he wanted to talk to Anna about. The bad thing about being a single father was that there wasn't anyone to share the responsibility of the children. He had to make all the decisions alone, and he was thinking that Anna might be someone he could talk to about what was wor
rying him. If she became his wife, he liked to think they would spend lots of time talking and making decisions together.

He nodded, and before he knew it Hannah had vanished down the hall, and Anna had slid a big wedge of pie in front of him. She went to the stove and came back with the coffeepot. “Go ahead. Dig in,” she said. “I have to wait for the others for mine. After supper, I mean.” She grimaced. “Not that I don't like pie. I do. You can see that I like just about everything.”

He paused, a forkful of pear and flaky crust in midair. “I always liked a body with a good appetite,” he said. “My Mam and my sisters. They like to eat.”

She smiled shyly. “Sometimes I feel funny, eating in front of other people. They stare at my plate…you know. Like I must be a pig to be so big.” She sighed. “But I was born big, Mam said, over nine pounds. And that wasn't anything I did wrong.”

“Nine pounds.” He washed the mouthful down with a sip of coffee. “The twins didn't weight that between them. Came out like scrawny little skinned rabbits. I was afraid they'd never live. Frieda had a time getting them to eat. Was months before they started looking like normal babies.”

“But look at them now,” Anna replied. “Healthy and hale, praise God. Bright boys, too.” She sat down at the table, close enough for him to make out the little specks of dark brown in her light brown eyes. He sighed, thinking what a fine figure of a woman she was.

“Those boys are a handful,” he admitted. “And…”

“Is there something?”

He nodded. “It's what they did to Martha.”

“The cow manure in her boots?” Anna asked. The corner of her full lips twitched in amusement.

“Ya,”
he said. “That.”

Anna clapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn't suppress a giggle, and before he could stop it, he began to laugh, too. “And she stepped in it?” Anna squeaked, before breaking into a full-bodied shriek of laughter. “Poor Aunt Martha.”

He began to choke. She jumped up and slapped him on the back, and suddenly they were both roaring with laughter. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he remembered the look on Martha's face when she pulled her stockinged foot out of the boot and stared in disbelief at the manure. “And the stink!” He snorted, and they were both off in peals of laughter again.

“I wish I could have seen it,” Anna said, when she'd gotten control of herself enough to speak again. “Poor Aunt Martha.”

“Lord forgive us,” he rasped, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “It was wrong of Peter and Rudy, rude and disrespectful.”

“Ya,”
Anna agreed. “Very disrespectful. But funny to see, I'm certain.”