Anna's Gift (9 page)

He burst forth with another chuckle, one so deep that it shot up from the pit of his belly. “And it's disrespectful for us to laugh at her misery. For a deacon of the church to—” And he was off again, choking with laughter.

“For which, I'm sure, we shall both ask forgiveness in our prayers,” Anna said, in a properly meek tone. Her gaze locked with his, and he saw the twinkle in her eyes.

“Amen,” he said, wiping his eyes again. “Oh, I haven't laughed like that in…in forever. Either you are very good for me or…”

“Very bad,” she teased.

He looked at her with new respect. He'd never realized Anna Yoder had such a sense of humor about her,
or the ability to bring out the child in him. There was a lot more to this bighearted girl than tasty pie and light biscuits. There was a deep well of fun and good-natured joy. “I have to punish them, of course,” he said. “I can't let it go—such disrespect to an older person.”

Anna nodded. “And a guest in your house. It was wrong of them.”

“They take after my father, they do,” he said. “Dat was always up for a good joke. Once he got up in the night and put something in his brother's cow dip, so when Uncle Harry started to run his herd through the water to kill the lice in their fleece, they turned purple. He had three purple cows before he realized what was happening.”

“That, I would have liked to see,” Anna said. “Purple cows.”

“The bishop was not pleased. I can tell you,” Samuel said. “He had people visiting from Lancaster, and they asked him if his church allowed such nonsense as purple cows. Dat was in hot water at the next services.”

“So, your twins come by it honest.”

“That they do. But…” He exhaled slowly. “When Frieda was alive, the two of us used to talk out what should be done when the children needed a doctor or when they needed correcting. Usually, I wanted to talk to them, and Frieda was all for a good backside tanning. But my Dat was always light on the switching, and I never really got the hang of it. Now, with just me to make the decisions…I wonder if I'm too soft. If they get into even more mischief.”

“Our Dat never spanked us. Aunt Martha spanked me once, but never Mam or Dat.” Anna pulled a face. “I deserved it. Dorcas and I got into four plates of brownies
that Aunt Martha had made for a quilting bee, and ate most of them.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine.” She wrinkled her nose. “We ate so many that they made us sick.”

He chuckled. “So, what do you think? Should I spank Peter and Rudy? It almost seems like a spanking is getting off easy, considering how bad Martha felt. And her ruined boots. I gave her money for new ones, and I'll make the boys pay for it out of their own savings, but—”

“You're right, Samuel,” she said softly. “It
is
getting off too light. They were disrespectful, and they need to learn a lesson. But I wouldn't spank them. All that proves is that you are bigger and stronger than they are, and that you have that right.”

He put his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “So what would you suggest?”

“Well…” She looked thoughtful. “Since it was manure that caused the trouble, it might be good to send them over to clean Aunt Martha's stable after school every day for a week. They should pay for the boots, and they should apologize to her. But hard work never hurt anybody. And spending time mucking stalls will be time they can spend thinking on how they can be better behaved children.”

“Martha expected me to give them a sound thrashing. Reuben, too. They said as much when they left. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child', Reuben said. He is our preacher.”

“True,” Anna agreed. “He is, but
you
are their father. It is
your
responsibility to guide your children and teach them. You have to do what you think is right.”

He nodded. “Cleaning out Martha's stable, that's a
good idea. And maybe her henhouse as well. Two boys, two chores.”

“And a proper apology,” Anna reminded him. “They have to do that. It's important a boy learns to apologize for his failings. Learning as a child makes it easier as an adult.”

He sighed audibly with relief. It was a good decision. “You are wise beyond your years,” he pronounced.

Anna blushed as she reached for his empty plate.

“It makes me feel better, to hear what you think.”

“But you knew a spanking wouldn't suit. You didn't need me to tell you that.”

“I worry that my heart is too soft,” he admitted. “And sometimes with boys, a man must be hard.”

“But not too hard,” she said with a smile.

“You see, this is why I think we should court. You and I, we make a good team. We would make a good marriage,” he said, sitting up straight and looking into her eyes. “I won't change my mind.”

“But I haven't said yes,” she reminded him. “And I have until my birthday to come up with an answer.”

“It will have to do,” he answered. “And now, I should get home. But you have helped me, eased my mind about Rudy and Peter.”

She followed him to the door and stood there watching him as he walked to his buggy. Snow was falling again, and darkness was closing in on the farmyard. “The pie was good,” he said.

“Danke.”
She smiled and waved, then closed the door.

As he drove down the Yoder lane, Samuel wondered if it had been the smartest thing for him to come by buggy. The road would be slick, and he would have to be cautious about traffic. Some of the Englishers drove like drunken chickens on ice, and not all knew how to safely share the highway with horse-drawn vehicles. He turned
on his battery-powered lights and guided the gelding onto the blacktop.

Only two cars passed before Samuel drew alongside the chair shop. Near the mailbox, he caught sight of Roman clearing snow away from the driveway. Roman called out to him and waved. Samuel wanted to get home, but Roman was his friend, and he might need something.

“Some weather, eh?” Samuel said as he reined in the horse. He'd pulled into the parking area, well off the road. “Think we'll get much more tonight?”

“Ya.”
Roman leaned on his shovel. “Weatherman on the radio says maybe two inches.”

“Not too much.” He waited. Roman had something on his mind; he could tell. Roman wasn't one to keep a man from his evening chores without reason. “Something?” Samuel asked. “Is there a problem?”

“I don't know,” Roman answered. “Word is, you're courting one of the Yoder girls. Noodle said—”

“Noodle Troyer talks too much.”

“So you're not? Nothing to it?”

Samuel leaned forward and rested his elbow on the dashboard. “I want to court Anna, but she's not certain she'll have me.”

“Anna, then, is it? Not Hannah?”

Samuel chuckled. “It was never Hannah. I think the world of Hannah, you know that. Who wouldn't? She's a good woman, but I'm set on Anna.”

“It's a lot, asking a girl that young to take on a ready-made family.” Roman leaned the shovel handle against the mailbox and came over to the buggy. “She's a hardworker, Anna. None better. But the age difference between you might be too much. Those twins of yours are a handful.”

Samuel stroked his chin. “Not something I haven't
wrestled with, Roman. It's time I took another wife, and she seems to me to be the best fit. I'd treat her right, be good to her.”

Roman looked thoughtful.

“You have problems with that?” Samuel asked. “You think I'm too old for her?”

“
Ne.
It's just that…” Roman tugged at his knit hat. “Frieda was a real looker, and Anna…Anna's a special girl. I wouldn't want to see her hurt.”

Samuel tensed. “No more than I would. I wouldn't ask her if I thought to make her second-best. I've prayed over it.”

“Have you thought of talking it over with the bishop?”

Samuel shook his head. “I have a lot of respect for Atlee, but I didn't pick his wife for him, and I'd not think to ask him about choosing mine.”

A grin split Roman's face, and he nodded. “Fair enough. It's none of my business either, I suppose, but Jonas was my friend. If he was here, he'd be askin' these questions. No offense meant.”

“And none taken. But in the end, it's between Anna and me.”

“You spoke to Hannah, asked her blessing?”

“I made it clear to her how I feel about Anna. They didn't want anything said, not until Anna is sure, but it sounds like the whole community is already buzzing.”

Roman chuckled. “Martha and Reuben are buzzin', for sure. Reuben told Noodle he thought you'd had your eye on his Dorcas.”

“Nothing wrong with Dorcas, other than her mother, but she's not right for me. Anna's the one.”

“And if she turns you down?”

“She won't,” Samuel said with more conviction than he felt. “And if she does, I'll just have to talk a little harder to convince her to change her mind.”

T
hree days passed, and Anna was no closer to coming to a decision concerning her dilemma. In truth, she hadn't had much time to think, because Grossmama's arrival had thrown the entire house into a tizzy. The Yoder household had gone from four members to eight overnight, meaning more laundry, larger meals and generally more confusion as to who would tackle which tasks. Not that it was all bad. Having Rebecca and Leah home again was wonderful, and they'd sat up until nearly eleven every night talking, so late that Susanna usually fell asleep before they got her to bed. There had been little quiet time for Anna to consider whether or not to allow Samuel to court her.

“This oatmeal is lumpy. And it has too much salt,” Grossmama's piercing voice cut through Anna's musing as she carried a plate of blueberry pancakes to the kitchen table. “I think your mother is trying to poison me,” Grossmama fretted.

“Ne,”
Aunt Jezebel soothed. “Hannah wouldn't do that, Sister. She's done everything possible to make us feel at home.”

“Well, I'm
not
at home,” Grossmama said. “My back
hurts. That bed is too hard, and there's a bathroom next to it. All night long, the water keeps running. Swish-slosh. Swish-slosh. A body can't get a wink of sleep.”

Anna laid a gentle hand on her grandmother's shoulder. “I know you must miss your own house, but Mam really wants you to be happy here with us.”

“I'm happy.” Susanna slid her chair over close to Grossmama's. “'Member when you made me gingerbread? When I was little?”

Anna's grandmother reached for a pancake and then another. Aunt Jezebel lifted the pitcher of syrup to pour it onto the pancakes, but Grossmama snapped at her. “
Ne.
I want honey on my cakes.” She looked around suspiciously. “Did Hannah make them?”

“Anna,” Susanna said. “Anna did.”

Grossmama was already chewing. “Dry,” she muttered. “Too dry.”

Leah brought the honey jar. “You'll like this,” she said. “Apple blossom honey from Johanna's hives.”

“Don't be so sure.” Grossmama took a noisy slurp of coffee. “Where's Hannah? She shouldn't be lazin' in bed at this hour.”

“Mam's already gone,” Anna said. “Remember? Mam teaches school.”

“Where's my Jonas? Hannah should see he has a decent breakfast before she goes out visiting.”

Leah arched an eyebrow. “Um, Dat's milking,” she murmured, cutting her eyes at Anna.

“What? Speak up, girl!”

“Leah, why don't you grab some more plates? Johanna will be here soon with the children,” Anna said.

“Johanna wants you to teach her how you make your rugs,” Aunt Jezebel explained to her sister. “Everyone thinks you make the best rugs.”

“Better than Hannah's,” Grossmama said. “That one by my bed is all uneven braids and loose stitches. Hannah is a slow learner. I don't know how Jonas puts up with her.”

“Mam found a length of lovely blue cotton cloth at Spence's,” Anna said. “It will go perfectly with the yellow that Aunt Jezebel showed me. Johanna wants to make a rug for Baby Katie's room.”

“Hmmp.” Grossmama snorted. “A fine thing, when your mother can go sashshaying off wherever she pleases and leave Jonas without his breakfast.” She stabbed another pancake. “I'm going home to Ohio after dinner. The weather here is too cold for my arthritis.”

“It was colder at home,” Aunt Jezebel reminded her.

“I don't care. I'm going as soon as Jonas hitches up my buggy.”

“You haven't even had time to visit with your family, yet,” Anna said. “Aunt Alma and Aunt Martha and their families would be disappointed if you went home so soon.”

Grossmama belched, pushing away from the table. “Those pancakes are dry as corn husks.” She looked at Anna. “Why would I want to see them? Mean-spirited girls, both of them. If Martha smiled once, her back teeth would fall out.”

Leah choked back a strangled giggle.

“Come sit in the rocking chair by the window and watch for Johanna, Grossmama,” Anna suggested. “You can look at all the pretty snow.”

“Nothing pretty about snow,” she snapped, slowing rising from the table. “Makes my hands ache.”

Anna sighed. There was a lot to do today. She wanted to bake a ham for the evening meal and make cookies for Samuel's children. She hoped that things would get easier
with Grossmama after she settled in. Leah and Rebecca had kept her up late last night, telling her tales of their grandmother's outrageous behavior.

Sometimes Grossmama was almost pleasant and sharp in her mind, and the next minute she lost track of reality. According to Leah, Grossmama frequently hid her change purse or her belongings and forgot where she put them. Then she would insist that Aunt Jezebel was stealing from her. And even though Dat had been gone more than two years, Grossmama believed that he was still alive. At first, the sisters had tried gently to remind her of the truth, but Hannah had suggested letting the matter go. With Grossmama's mind as it was, each time she was told her son was dead, it was if she had to relive it all over again. Sometimes an unclear mind could be a blessing, Mam told them.

It hurt Anna when Grossmama said mean things about Mam, when she was always so good to her. The two of them had always rubbed each other like a blister in new leather shoes. Grossmama hadn't wanted Dat to marry Mam because she'd been raised Mennonite.

Ruth said that she doubted anyone would have been good enough to marry Lovina's only son. And Grossmama didn't get along any better with her own daughters. She certainly didn't make her sister, Jezebel's, life easy either, but Anna knew in her heart that there was good in her grandmother. Lovina had a lifetime of wisdom and experience to share, and no one made a finer braided rug.

Anna rested her hand on the back of the rocker as Grossmama sat down, and she handed her a shawl. It was warm in the kitchen, but the shawl seemed to make Lovina feel safe, so Anna always kept it nearby.

Respect and caring for older people had been ingrained in Anna since she was a small child. She felt
deeply that providing food and shelter and medical care wasn't enough. It was important to make Grossmama a part of the household, to show her that she was loved and wanted. The question was—how?

 

Church was held every other Sunday. This week, Sunday was a day of rest, a day for visiting with friends and family, for reading the Bible and for remembering the blessings that the Lord provided. Leah, Rebecca and Susanna were just clearing away the dishes from the noon meal when Samuel arrived at the kitchen door with his three girls.

“Come in,” Mam said. “Anna, look who's here.”

Anna offered Samuel a nervous smile. She could feel her face growing hot as Leah gave her a knowing look and Rebecca kicked her ankle under the table. Grossmama and Aunt Jezebel, still seated at the table, stared. Irwin scooped up Jeremiah and fled the kitchen for the back of the house.

“You've come to see Hannah?” Grossmama asked. “Not wise. She's not a good cook.”

“Sister,” Aunt Jezebel chided. “Hannah is a fine cook.”

Lori Ann giggled and Mae pulled off a wet mitten and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Samuel took a deep breath, and his handsome face grew ruddy. “
Ne,
Lovina. I've come to see Anna.”

“Anna? Why?” Grossmama asked.

Susanna piped up. “Samuel's courting Anna.”

Anna rushed to take the little girls' coats. Samuel hung his on the hook on the back of the kitchen door. “Susanna,” Anna said. “There's a new copy of
Family Life
that Naomi might like to read, and maybe you could take Lori Ann and Mae up to the attic and let them play with the Noah's Ark.” She looked at Samuel, nervous, but a
little excited, too. He'd come to see her, just her. This was one of the ways couples got to know each other when they were courting. And even though she and Samuel weren't courting, the idea caused a flutter in her stomach. “Would you like to sit in the parlor? Irwin made a fire in the stove this morning.”

Samuel nodded, and Anna led the way to a small room that was only used when special guests came to call. A high-backed oak bench that had been made in Lancaster more than a hundred years ago, three cane-seat chairs and a larger mahogany Windsor chair were arranged around the cast-iron stove. The walls were a soft cream and the wide chair rail and molding were dove-white. More straight-back chairs lined the wall and the worn plank floor was clean enough to eat off.

On the dark oak table lay Dat's Old German Bible and a newer one belonging to her mother. Other hymnals, Bibles and histories of the Amish martyrs lined the shelves of a simple oak bookcase that Eli had built. Anna opened the interior shutters, so that light poured through the tall windows from Mam's flower garden and motioned Samuel to take the single armchair.

Instead, he pushed the heavy pocket door nearly closed, leaving only a few inches open, for propriety's sake, settled onto the bench and patted the seat beside him. “I think that you could sit beside me, Anna. Your mother, Grossmama and sisters are in the next room.”

Hesitantly, she sat where he asked. “We're not doing a very good job of keeping this a secret,” she said. Her voice came out so soft that it was a wonder Samuel heard her. Still, it wasn't unpleasant sitting so close to him.

“You don't have to be afraid of me.”

“I'm not afraid.” That wasn't exactly true. She was afraid, afraid that this would all come to nothing, that
her deepest wish might be nothing more than a girl's silly daydreaming. Shivers ran under her skin and her heart raced and skipped.

“I know you asked for more time,” Samuel said, “but—”

“Dat! Mae—Mae—Mae wet her pants.” Lori Ann squeezed through the opening in the doorway. “She made a—a—a puddle on the floor. Sh-sh-she did.”

Samuel started to rise, but Anna halted him with a hand on his arm. “It's nothing, Samuel. You don't have to worry yourself over a child's accident.”

He relaxed, giving a hesitant smile. “Usually I do.”

“Not here. We're used to such things.” She waved to Lori Ann. “Ask Mam to come if Susanna can't find dry clothes for her.” The little girl nodded and dashed off. Anna looked back into Samuel's face, thinking again how big he was, how handsome. “This is your day of rest, too. You should make the best of it.”

He smiled and nodded. “Being with you is restful, Anna.” He hesitated. “I…I told Roman,” he admitted.

“Oh.” She exhaled slowly.

“He's my friend. I wanted him to know that we were thinking of…” He reached for her hand and cradled it in his broad one. “I wanted him to know that I'd asked to court you—that I want you to be my wife.”

Anna closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch. She hoped that Samuel wouldn't think she was fast. Handholding was allowed between couples that were walking out together, which they weren't, but Samuel seemed so sure. And, as he had said, her mother was nearby. Her throat constricted. She wanted to ask what Roman had thought, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she breathed in the clean male scent of Samuel, picturing in her mind him forking hay and hitching up
the horse. All her life, she'd felt too big. Next to Samuel, she didn't seem nearly as tall or broad.

“Anna, I think maybe we—”

The door scraped against the floor. There was the tap-tap of Grossmama's cane, and the old woman shuffled into the room, followed by Aunt Jezebel. Grossmama stared at them for a long minute, then took a chair near the stove, directly across from Samuel and Anna, and blew her nose loudly on a big handkerchief.

“Sister wanted to join you,” Aunt Jezebel said apologetically, as she took a seat in one of the cane chairs.

“She insisted.”

“You courting my Anna?” Grossmama demanded.

“Ya,”
Samuel answered. He released Anna's hand and she tucked it safely under her apron. She saw by Aunt Jezebel's expression that she'd noticed, but Anna wasn't certain that Grossmama had seen them holding hands.

“Ne,”
Anna said. “Maybe. We're not sure.”

Her grandmother ignored her and looked hard at Samuel. “Good. She's a good girl. Make you a good wife.” She frowned and blew her nose again. “But first you ask my Jonas for permission. Ask her father. My son.”

A furrow appeared between Samuel's brows, and he glanced at Anna in confusion. Anna's eyes widened and she nodded.

“I will,” he said.

“Is right. Proper,” Grossmama said. “My Jonas is a bishop. He has a good farm.
Ya?
”

Samuel nodded. “A very good farm.”

“Do you have a job?” Grossmama asked. “Do you work hard? Let me see your hands.”

Dutifully, Samuel got up, walked over to her and held out his hands. Grossmama stared.

“Turn them over.” When he did as he was told, the old woman nodded. “Strong hands. Not lazy hands. Is a good man, Anna. You take him.” Grossmama twisted to look at Aunt Jezebel. “Well, are you going to read to me or not? I can't find my glasses. I think Hannah took them.”

“I don't believe Mam took your glasses,” Anna said, rising to her feet. She walked to Samuel and whispered. “This isn't going to work. Let's go back in the kitchen.”

“What?” Grossmama demanded. She peered at Samuel. “He doesn't work? No good. How will he feed your babies?”

Anna felt a flush start at her chest and flash over her neck and face. Her cheeks were burning as she motioned toward the door. “Kitchen,” she begged Samuel. And then to Grossmama she said, “Samuel has the farm behind ours. Where the school is. Fine fields and a big herd of milk cows. He can provide for a family.”

“My Jonas is milking the cows,” she replied. “Go ask him now, young man. It's only right.”