Second Chances (5 page)

The intention had been clear and, frankly, presumed by all.

Instead Willis Eicher chose to marry a woman from a faraway church district. That
decision always brought out the fire in William's eyes, for the woman was the only
daughter of that
g
'
may
's bishop. Besides the whispers about Willis snubbing Elizabeth,
there had also been scuttlebutt over the motives behind his surprisingly sudden decision:
the King family owned a rather large farm in another church district in a neighboring
county.

Anna had never truly decided which one of them had felt more disgraced:
Daed
or Elizabeth.
Even today, she couldn't decide. The one thing she did know was that the wounds remained
fresh for them both and reminded her far too much of the pain that she too had once
caused.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Lydia reached out and, with a calm hand, touched
William's sleeve. “William, that's pride speaking.”

He ruffled at her words and shifted his weight in his chair.

“Besides, maybe you won't have to sell the
haus
. Not yet, anyway.” Her eyes brightened
from behind her glasses. “I have another possible, perfectly reasonable solution!”

“The only perfectly reasonable solution,” he grumbled, “is staying in my own
haus
.”

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and rested her head against the cushion. “I just
hate the thought of all those people talking about us.”

“Speculating . . . ,” he added.

“I knew we shouldn't have donated so much money last year!” Elizabeth clicked her
tongue disapprovingly. “You know that the amount we donated was shared to others
by Bishop Troyer's
fraa
! Everyone knows and now speculates about our situation!”

“Scandalous!” William cried.

Anna felt as if the two of them were playing volleyball.

The kitchen clock chimed six times. Lydia glanced at it, for she needed to leave
in less than thirty minutes. Certainly she had her own work to do, Anna thought.
Already, Lydia had spent almost an hour with William and his daughters reviewing
the situation, a situation about which he merely grumbled and complained with no
inclination to act upon a viable solution.

“If you should like to hear my solution?” Lydia interrupted. She spoke louder than
usual, but still with a degree of patience. Once William and Elizabeth settled down,
she took a deep breath and began speaking. “It's simple, really. You have that small
haus
in Florida. Move there for a while. Winter and spring are lovely down there.
It's less expensive to live there.
Mayhaps
you'll find Florida to your liking. If
you don't, you can always return to a smaller place. Either way, you can sell this
farm without anyone raising an eyebrow.”

Anna looked up again from her quilt. “Why, that's the perfect solution!”

Lydia nodded and added, “Especially after last winter being so difficult and causing
the flare-up with your arthritis. Certainly no one will question why you have left.”
Pausing, she let that suggestion register with William.

“If we move that far away, I'd still have to sell my horse and buggy,” William grumbled.

Anna glanced up at him sharply. This was the first indication that her father might—just
might—be willing to listen to reason.

Lydia nodded gravely to acknowledge William's loss before pressing her point home.
“In the meantime, you
should rent out this property. The income from the rental will
help pay your way until you sell it.”

A silence fell over the room. Anna waited, her breath caught in her chest. Elizabeth
almost broke into a rare smile while Mary developed a typical scowl, the two very
different reactions almost amusing to Anna except she knew the serious reasons behind
them.

Finally, Elizabeth nodded her head in approval, her agitation from moments prior
quickly vanishing. “That's an agreeable solution!” She met her father's worried gaze.
He often sought her validation on important decisions, and even those that did not
qualify as very significant. She was, after all, the maternal head of the house,
at least since their mother departed from her earthly life to begin her heavenly
one. “Especially with the cold season soon upon us. I'm rather partial to that idea.”

But the idea of William and his two unmarried daughters leaving Charm was not received
as well by everyone.

“Florida?” Mary scoffed at the idea as if someone had just given her a glass of spoiled
milk. “Oh bother! Who will help me with the
kinner
?” With a helpless expression
on her face, she looked first to her father and then to Lydia. “You know I haven't
been feeling quite well! The headaches and fatigue! And those two
kinner
are so active.
Cris's family provides no help at all. Why! They return the boys to me in worse shape
than when they left, what with all the cookies and sweets they give them!” Disgusted,
she returned her attention to her father. “If you move to Florida, you simply must
leave Anna behind. It's not as if anyone would miss her . . . ”

The comment, while seemingly harsh, didn't faze anyone in the room. With the exception
of Lydia, Anna
knew that it was an accurate statement and not necessarily spoken
with malice. Her quiet nature often caused people, especially her family, to overlook
her at larger gatherings. And to be needed by someone,
anyone
, was better than to
be needed by none.

“And when we return? Then what?”

Mary sighed. “If Salome Musser would let us move into the big
haus
, we might have
room.” She picked at a white thread on the blue sleeve of her dress. “
Mayhaps
this
might be the catalyst for her to finally do the right thing,
nee
? Who ever heard
of such selfishness? And with only Leah and Hannah living there.” She looked up,
suddenly aware that everyone watched her, stunned by her sharp words. “
Ja vell
, it's
true! Her son did buy the farm, after all.”

Another glance at the clock and Lydia suddenly stood up. “Think about it, William.”

For a moment, Anna's heart broke. Her father looked around the room, his eyes taking
in the freshly painted walls (for he always hired three young men to repaint them
in the springtime), wood-stained trim work (something that Anna worked tirelessly
to clean each week), and perfectly waxed linoleum floor (another task that fell upon
Anna). Cleanliness was, after all, next to godliness.

“To have another person sit in my kitchen?” Emotion welled up in his throat. “Tend
my Lizzie's gardens? Who could I possibly entrust with such a valuable piece of my
life?”

Gathering her black sweater, Lydia ignored his reservations. She spared a genuine
smile in Anna's direction before picking up her basket. “I heard that George
Coblentz
is returning to the area. His older sister is ailing and they may need a place to
stay.”

“They?” William's mouth fell open. “You mean he has young
kinner
?” He shook his hand
in front of his chest as if warding off something bad. “
Nee
! I won't have undisciplined
young ones tearing through this
haus
! They'll trample the rose bushes, for sure and
certain!”

Laughing, Lydia placed her hand on his shoulder, the closest gesture of intimacy
she ever shared with him. It was a simple touch that spoke of a deep friendship and
even deeper tolerance on her part. “Oh, William! You fret over the most mundane things!
Besides, it's just George and his
fraa
, Sara. Their children are all grown up now.”

Anna picked up her quilting, readying herself to continue working on the blanket
since Lydia was leaving.

“Coblentz?” William tugged at his beard, a sign that Anna knew too well: he was searching
his memory. He remembered everyone that he met, a social practice he had perfected
over the years. “I don't know anyone named Coblentz.”

Lydia slipped her arms into her sweater and quickly extracted the strings to her
prayer
kapp.
Her hand on the doorknob, she turned to wave one last time to the three
young women before responding to his statement. “Of course you do,” she said, opening
the door. “George's
fraa
grew up here, just north of Berlin. Don't you remember Sara?
Sara Whittmore?”

Anna's fingers froze over the material, the needle only partially pushed through
the fabric. She dared not raise her eyes. To do so, she feared, would allow Lydia,
of all people, to read her thoughts. The casual nature in which Lydia said the name
startled Anna almost as much as
hearing it. Was it possible that Lydia had forgotten
her advice to Anna to forget marrying Freman since her father would not accept a
Whittmore into the family? Even after she broke off the engagement, very little was
said of Freman's abrupt disappearance. Indeed, no one in their house had spoken of
the Whittmore family for years. That, however, had not hindered Anna from thinking
of the Whittmores, one in particular, each and every day for the last eight years—a
fact that she now knew was unknown to everyone, even Lydia!

“They are the most delightful people, and you know what they say about a woman without
kinner
,” she said, her voice light and breezy. “They take the best care of the
haus
and gardens!” One last wave and Lydia disappeared out the door. Behind her, she left
four people in deep thought: three who wondered about this George Coblentz and how
the
g
'
may
would react to the news of the Eicher departure and a fourth who stared
at her lap, her eyes glazed over and her fingers unable to extract the needle.

Whittmore. The name was far too familiar to Anna. While the voices of her family
faded into the background, some long-repressed memories awakened. She lifted her
eyes and looked around the room, her eyes seeing the very objects that so alarmed
her father just moments before. Rather than fearing the hands that might touch them
in just a few short weeks, her heart pounded at the very thought of the Whittmores
staying in their house.

She sighed, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as she fought the intense pounding of
her heart.
Oh
, she wondered, a deep and hollow feeling forming inside of her chest,
was it possible that, once again, he might actually walk these floors?
The very thought
led her to distraction and made her so
uncomfortable that she had no choice but to
claim a headache and soon after Lydia's departure, retire to the safety and isolation
of her room. The only problem was that she was not alone, for the memory of Sara's
brother, Freman Whittmore, accompanied her.

Chapter Two

B
EFORE A WEEK
had passed, the arrangements had been made. George Coblentz was eager
to return and assist his sister's family during her illness. Therefore, changes came
quickly for the Eicher family. Rooms were packed away, memories boxed up, and clothes
transferred from pegs and hangers to suitcases. It amazed Anna how, despite so many
years living in the house, there was little to show for their existence beyond a
few boxes left in the attic.

Of course, she thought as she dressed for the day, they had yet to tidy up the main
room in the house: the kitchen. Already she could hear Lydia moving about downstairs,
bustling to clean up breakfast dishes, a meal that Anna had voluntarily slept through
so that she could avoid the daily complaints and rants from her father regarding
the injustice of having to leave the house for so many months.

Even though the leaves on the trees were still green and the noon sun still warm,
William had scheduled his trip down south. To Anna's concern, Elizabeth convinced
her friend, Martha Canton, recently widowed at the young age of thirty-two, to journey
with them. When she joined Lydia and her sisters downstairs, she was gratified to
find
that Lydia shared her concern and was discussing it with Elizabeth.