Second Chances: An Amish Tale of Jane Austen's Persuasion (The Amish Classics Book 3)

by Sarah Price

  Elizabeth, however, clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Always the one that focused on maintaining appearances, despite the Amish culture’s emphasis on being plain, Elizabeth took great satisfaction that her reputation remained untarnished and above reproach. The idea that anyone might question her judgment (for certainly it would reflect on her in the long run) horrified Elizabeth. After taking a few seconds to compose herself, she frowned as she sharply chastised her sister. “Don’t be verrickt, Anna!”

  Lowering her eyes, Anna flushed under the disparaging scoff from Elizabeth. While she knew that she should be used to such reprimands and usually remained unaffected by them, this one stung more than usual.

  “Anna’s not crazy,” Lydia replied, her voice calm and level as she jumped to Anna’s defense. “Martha has been widowed for nine months now, Elizabeth. You know how that Amish grapevine works. Tongues are bound to wag.”

  Anna admired the older woman’s ability to always sound calm and collected. Dealing with her sisters and her father could rattle even the most stoic of people, she thought.

  “She is traveling with me,” Elizabeth said forcefully. “Accompanying me. Not Daed. Why would anyone give that matter a second thought?”

  Lydia was quick to respond. “Your daed is hardly immune to the thought of remarriage.”

  At this comment, Elizabeth scoffed. “If he hasn’t married yet,” she said, “why would he now? Besides, Martha is a right gut friend to me, but certainly can be of no interest to Daed! While she has a righteous heart and good intentions, she knows no scripture and is far too used to working outdoors. Her skin is dark like leather and she lost her bottom front teeth when the mule knocked her into the fence post!”

  Anna stopped wiping down the cabinet next to the sink and laughed, a soft sound that hinted, just slightly, at repayment for the previous reproach by Elizabeth. “I should think the former two characteristics could far outweigh the latter! Who knows but she might learn how to please Daed.”

  “Oh, Anna!” Unlike Lydia, the unspoken matriarch of the family ever since their mother had died, Elizabeth was not one who easily hid her displeasure or her inability to accept criticism. “You know what I mean! Besides, their age difference alone is far too great! He could practically be her father!” Shaking her head, Elizabeth scoffed once again at such a proposal. “Ridiculous, Anna. I simply will not entertain another word of this conversation!”

  Anna returned her attention to the counter, too aware that Elizabeth would not easily relinquish her place as one of the two women of influence in her father’s life. She had acquired the role by regrettable chance, yet she was determined to maintain it by resolute choice. As far as Elizabeth was concerned, no one in the community would dare question her reputation, and therefore, Martha’s presence was purely just companionship and shame on anyone who might think otherwise. In Elizabeth’s eyes, her own spotless reputation would eliminate anyone’s need to gossip or speculate about the situation.

  And Anna had learned long ago that what Elizabeth wanted from her father, she usually received.

  By mid-September, with George and Sara Coblentz expected to arrive any day, William and Elizabeth departed with Martha accompanying them. Their personal belongings packaged in boxes and stored in the attic, William and his oldest daughter clambered into the hired van for the long journey down to Florida. There hadn’t been much fanfare in the community about their departure. Despite her father’s worries, Anna knew that it wasn’t uncommon for older Amish couples to spend colder seasons in the Amish and Mennonite community of Pinecraft, Florida. As for the renting of the house, William’s explanation was accepted by all, even if he did tend to speak far too often (and too long) about his reasons for leaving.

  Anna, however, stayed behind. She stood in the darkness of the early morning hours, a black shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she watched the van pull out of their driveway, the red taillights casting a soft glow in the darkness. She noticed that neither her father nor her sister looked back to grace her with a final wave before disappearing down the road. Instead, Anna was left standing in the empty driveway, shivering in the cold and knowing that she wouldn’t see them for almost a year. For her, their absence would be felt; for them, her absence would be nothing but an afterthought.

  Minutes after the van disappeared, Anna continued standing there, alone and cold, thinking only of her own mixed feelings. While she agreed that the move was the best solution for her father’s dilemma, she found herself fighting the urge to resent the state of affairs that he had created for the family. If only he had been more thrifty, they could have stayed in their own home. Instead of packing away their mother’s china, Elizabeth and Anna would have spent the past week canning food for use over the winter months. Now the pantry shelves remained empty, waiting for Sara Coblentz to fill them.

  Shivering in the cold, Anna headed back into the house. Since the decision had been made to rent the house, she had given thought about God and His plans for the Eicher family. Certainly there were reasons for everything, and she knew better than to ask the simple question “why?” Asking wouldn’t change the fact that her father, eldest sister, and her sister’s widowed friend were to stay, temporarily, in Pinecraft, Florida, while the remaining two daughters would stay in Sugarcreek, Ohio. Besides the Florida house being too small for more people, Anna much preferred to stay behind, even if it meant moving to Mary’s.

  After all, her sister needed Anna’s help.

  “I simply cannot do without Anna,” Mary had insisted, all but stomping her bare feet in the dust of the worn path by the porch when the plans for William’s departure had been discussed and solidified. “You both know I have those headaches, especially when the trees begin to change. Tree mold. And I’m so tired of late!”

  As usual, she had won her argument. A squeaky wheel always gets oiled, Anna thought when Mary became, once again, victorious in her request . . . nee, demand! . . . for Anna to remain behind in order to help her with the kinner. In truth, she didn’t mind. She loved her nephews, little Cris Junior and Walter. While loud and rambunctious, they showered her with attention and affection that warmed her heart. She didn’t even mind bathing them each evening before tucking them into their shared bed.

  Two days after William and Elizabeth departed, Anna made the sixteen-mile journey from Charm to Sugarcreek. Now she stood at the counter of Mary’s kitchen kneading bread while her sister sat at the kitchen table, half-heartedly darning one of her husband’s socks. From her sister’s repeated sighing and fidgeting, Anna knew that something was on her mind. Time alone would provide insight into the cause.

  Outside the window that faced the road, just a mere twenty yards from the house, a horse and buggy passed. Anna glanced out the open window, squinting to see if she recognized the driver. An older man lifted his hand and waved to her and she responded in kind, even though she wasn’t certain who it was.

  As soon as the rhythmical sound of the horse’s hooves faded into the distance, Mary began her routine of sighing until, unable to remain silent anymore, she began.

  “I’m rather embarrassed for Salome Musser,” Mary said, yanking at the string as she pulled it through the loops of the sock. She had pushed a worn tennis ball to the heel in order to close the hole, but her stitches were too tight and the thread broke. “Oh, bother!” Tossing both the sock and the needle onto the table, she sighed and rubbed at her temples.

  “Another headache, Mary?”

  With a dismissive wave, Mary didn’t answer the question. “Why, they should’ve invited you over for a meal, or if that is too much trouble, a visit after supper, then!”

  “It’s fine, Mary. Truly it is.” And she meant it. She knew how busy people were during this season. After all, it was time to cut down the garden, prepare the final canned goods for winter, and make preparations for the upcoming autumn baptism and communion services. Anna loved this time of year, knowing that, shortly after those two important gatherings, wedding
banns would begin to be announced after Sunday worship. And, from the way that the Amish grapevine talked, it promised to be a very busy wedding season.

  Mary, however, seemed intent on lamenting the affront. “Are they expecting us to walk over there? That just seems quite prideful, I must say!”

  “I see them at worship, Mary,” Anna said, maintaining her typical cheerful nature. Plopping the kneaded dough into a lightly floured bowl, she covered it with a cloth. It would take some time to rise. In the meantime, she could join her sister at the table. “It’s not as though we are strangers.” As she sat, she reached out to gently claim the abandoned sock, knowing full well that it would never get darned if she didn’t do so.

  That wasn’t good enough for Mary.

  “They know I haven’t been feeling well,” she said. “You would think that Leah or Hannah would come check on me, even if their maem won’t!”

  Not prone to speaking ill of anyone, Anna concentrated on mending the sock and kept her silence on that statement.

  For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall, a gift from Cris when he became engaged to Mary. Their courtship had been brief and tarnished only by the knowledge that the clock was intended for another, a fact that Anna never once discussed with Mary. While the entire family knew of Cris’s initial interest in Anna, Mary hadn’t seemed to care. She was the first of the sisters to secure a husband, and that joy far outweighed her awareness of being the groom’s second choice. After all, Mary once whispered to Elizabeth when she thought Anna was in the other room, Cris Musser had the best reputation (and largest farm) in Sugarcreek, Ohio. “I reckon it doesn’t matter which Eicher dochder secures such a marriage!”

  Anna had pretended not to overhear, masking her disappointment in her sister’s statement by retreating outside to weed the flower garden in front of the porch. Long ago, she had learned to quietly retreat from the private affronts to others that were so often verbalized within the four walls of the Eicher home. Tending the garden had become one of the simple ways for Anna to quietly remove herself from unpleasant confrontations. If only her sisters knew that Mary’s indifference to being a second choice contrasted greatly with Anna’s decision to not marry her second choice. Only her sense of respect for Cris and propriety for herself kept her from disclosing the truth.

  Truth be told, the marriage of her younger sister to her former suitor, no matter how briefly he had called upon her or offered her rides home from youth singings, brought joy to Anna’s heart. She never once looked upon their union with anything less than satisfaction for both her sister and for Cris Musser. While Anna knew her future happiness disappeared when she broke off her engagement to Freman, she never would want to wish her sad fate on another. Cris was, after all, a good (if a little unexciting) man with a godly reputation. She took pleasure in his ability to harbor no ill-will toward her for rebuffing his attempts at courtship. And, as she quickly learned, he certainly demonstrated an endless amount of patience when dealing with his young and sometimes overbearing wife.

  “Where are those kinner anyway?” Mary said sharply, standing up to walk to the back window and peer outside. The main house, the older farmstead, sat a bit farther back from the road. One day, Mary and Cris would move into it to raise their family. However, Cris’s mother did not seem in a great hurry to vacate it for the smaller house, the one occupied by her only surviving son and his family, a dwelling that sat closer to the road.

  Finishing her mending, Anna lifted the needle and thread to her mouth and snipped it free with her teeth. Satisfied, she folded the sock and set it on the table. “They’re visiting with their grossmammi, probably having a wunderbarr time!”

  “And being fed endless numbers of sugar cookies, no doubt!” Instead of returning to the table, Mary sank down onto the sofa, stretching out with her hand upon her forehead. “I can hear the noise now. Running and romping through the kitchen, all worked up before supper.”

  Anna laughed, mostly because she knew that Mary spoke the truth.

  “She does it on purpose, you know!” Lifting her head, Mary stared at her sister with a serious look. “Gives them lemonade and cookies before sending them back to me, making them sugar high, knowing how afflicted I am with headaches!”

  “Oh, Mary . . . ”

  Sinking back into the pillow on the sofa, Mary sighed, ignoring the objection, no matter how soft, from her sister. “Then they’ll come back here and run around, making all sorts of noise. This haus is too small for all these people!” Rubbing her fingers along her temples, Mary made a soft noise, like a wounded animal in the underbrush. “If only Hannah would marry that Caleb Wagler! Salome would have no choice but to move out at last!”

  Shaking her head, Anna frowned. “It’s their home, Mary. One day it will be yours, ja, but for now, it is theirs. What does it matter if the boys run about in the evening? They’ll fall asleep soon enough.”

  At this comment, Mary dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “What would you know, anyway?” A single laugh escaped her lips. “I suppose you would have been just as content here as anywhere. Although I don’t see where you had many options: Pinecraft or here, ja? It’s a wonder that you are not more appreciative of that!”

  The reminder, regardless of whether or not it was spoken with the intention of stinging, cut through Anna, especially since she had been so emotionally jarred by the recent reflections on Freman. After all, for eight long years, she had purposefully, and unsuccessfully, tried to suppress her feelings for him. Hurt filled her heart at Mary’s not-so-gentle words, a bitter reminder that not only had Anna lost Freman to the whims of her father and Lydia, but she had also turned down any other subsequent suitors, including the timid attentions of her now brother-in-law, Cris.

  Taking a deep breath, Anna tried to focus on her breathing. Inhale, exhale. She felt a new sense of calm wash over her. The tremors in her heart slowly ceased and she felt herself relax.

  A cool September breeze blew through the window. Shutting her eyes, Anna inhaled the fresh air, her eyes shut and a hint of a smile on her lips. Autumn was her favorite season and she was particularly pleased that she did not have to travel to Pinecraft with her father and Elizabeth. She’d have missed the beautiful colors of the trees changing on the rolling hills and along the back roads. While she had not been one to travel very far or too often, she had never seen a place as spiritually beautiful as the landscape of her community in Charm, Ohio.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” she announced, standing up abruptly. “It’ll do you good, Mary, and we can stop to visit the Mussers on our way back.” The senior Mussers, Salome and Raymond, resided on the same property as Cris and Mary. As was common among the Amish, particularly those who were fortunate enough to still have large farms, multiple dwellings housed generations of the family, passing down from the parents to a married child as the years went on. At the Musser farm Cris’s parents still resided in the main house that was set farther back on the property while Cris and his small family resided in a cramped dwelling that faced the road, a bone of continual contention with Mary.

  “Nee, schwester.”

  Good-naturedly, Anna went to the sofa and pulled gently at Mary’s hands, forcing her sister to get to her feet. “Kum, Mary! Such a beautiful day, ja? Let’s enjoy the weather while we can.”

  With great reluctance, Mary got to her feet and let Anna lead her to the door. She did, however, do so with a few more complaints, all of which fell on deaf ears.

  They walked down the winding road lined with alternating white picket and wire fences, a subtle way to define property lines in a friendly manner. In the distance, a small herd of Guernsey cows lingered in the dirt paddock outside of a red barn with white roof and silo. As the two women approached it, a man wearing black trousers, a dirty white shirt, and a battered straw hat leaned out a window of the barn and waved. Anna waved back while Mary ducked her head.

  “Mary!” she scolded.

&nbs
p; Her sister fussed and turned on her heel, heading back toward her home. “Oh, Anna,” she said sharply. “You know how private I am!”

  Without a word, Anna fell into step with Mary, knowing full well that it wasn’t privacy that her sister sought. The man distributed fertilizer and, as such, the farm had a reputation of smelling less than pleasant. In fact, despite the man’s good nature, he hadn’t married until he was almost in his forties, an age that caused many wagging tongues in the g’may.

  By the time they arrived at the elder Mussers’ home, Cris was already starting the late afternoon chores. When he saw them, he lifted his hand and waved, a smile of appreciation as well as happiness on his face. Anna was only too glad to return the gesture while Mary was more than happy to disregard her husband’s salutations.

  “Oh, Anna!” Salome Musser smiled when they walked into the room. “How dear you are to visit us!” Her two unmarried daughters, Leah and Hannah, sat in the kitchen nearby, working.

  The two young boys were playing with an alphabet puzzle on the floor, barely looking up when their mother entered the room. Anna noticed their distance, both physical and emotional, from Mary and quickly positioned herself in between her nephews and her sister in the hopes of quelling any bad feelings.

  “Mary insisted!” Anna said, smiling at the older woman as she stepped forward to shake her hand in greeting. “It is Mary you should praise!”

  Looking unconvinced, Salome looked over the rim of her glasses at her only daughter-in-law and pursed her lips. “Indeed, I’m sure.”

  “Aendi!” her five-year-old nephew, Cris Junior, cried out when he saw Anna. Both boys looked alike, with straight brown hair and dark brown eyes that sparkled with mischief and curiosity. For as much as they did not respond to Mary’s lack of affection, they doted on Anna’s abundance of it. “Das is een zebra!” he said as he pointed to the puzzle piece shaped like a Z.