by Sarah Price
As expected, there had been no escape from Kate’s harsh reprimands. With her pinched nose and down-turned mouth, Kate always appeared angry. She wore stern black dresses, even when it wasn’t worship Sunday. The dark color of the fabric drained her already pale face and made her appear even more austere. Despite her reputation for being righteous and hardworking, suitors never offered to bring her home after the singings in the evening. Instead, she could often be seen walking, alone, down the road in the gentle evening hours while all of the other young women rode by in a buggy, sharing the company of a single young man or tagging along with a group of friends.
Kate’s astute eye and sharp tongue offended many and, as such, rather than be subject to them, others chose merely to avoid her.
Anna, however, was not so fortunate.
“I’m just feeling poorly,” Anna offered as a way of excuse. “Danke for telling me to kneel.”
“You sat there like you were in another world!” Kate’s voice carried and, to Anna’s dismay, caught the attention of Mary and her two sisters-in-law. “And during worship! My word, I thought you weren’t even paying attention, Anna Eicher!”
Anna lowered her eyes, withdrawing into herself as she listened to Kate remind her of her inadequacies.
Fortunately, Leah and Hannah hurried over to join them, leaving Mary behind as the two boys hung onto her hands.
Laughing at something Hannah must have said, Leah smiled as she stood before Anna and Kate. “Good day, Kate!” she said as she reached out and shook Kate’s hand.
“Didn’t see you before the service,” Kate replied, referring to the greeting, a kiss on the mouth, that the women always gave each other in the quarter-hour before worship started.
Hannah nudged her sister. “We’d have been here on time if you weren’t so concerned with your new kapp strings.”
Leah frowned at her sister’s teasing.
From the expression on Kate’s face, she wasn’t impressed with either woman’s excuse. When she turned away, the two younger girls leaned their heads together and tittered. There was solidarity in their unity, a closeness that was foreign to the Eicher sisters.
Anna remained silent, too aware that, on the other side of the room, Freman stood with the men, meeting new people and reuniting with old acquaintances. It took all of her willpower to not let her eyes wander in that direction. When she had heard that George and Sara Coblentz would rent her father’s home, she wondered if Freman would come visiting. Such a possibility clearly existed since, in fact, they had grown up in a nearby community. With such knowledge, Anna had prayed for the strength to see him again.
Now it is done, she told herself. The worst is over, I reckon.
“Girls, Anna,” a voice said from behind her. Anna turned around, and upon recognizing Salome, she smiled. The woman accompanying Salome, however, was unfamiliar to Anna. From the strange head cover that the woman wore, far more flexible and finer in material, Anna immediately suspected that she was about to meet Freman’s sister. “I want you to meet Sara,” Salome said as she introduced her daughters, her daughter-in-law, and Anna.
“Ach, Anna!” Sara shook her hand in a friendly, warm manner. “I’m so pleased to meet you! Your daed’s haus is just lovely! We cannot tell you how inviting it is!”
“You’ve found comfort there, then, ja?”
Sara’s smile, so soft and gentle, warmed Anna’s heart. “Most definitely!” the older woman said. “George did not want to infringe on his sister’s family. Their place is rather crowded already.” She didn’t need to explain; Anna could only imagine how many people resided there. “The peace that greets us after visiting with his sister is a welcome time for reflection and prayer.” She gave a slight laugh. “No doubt we’d have lacked that elsewhere!”
Salome regained Sara’s attention. “You must come visiting then,” she said firmly. Beside her, both Hannah and Leah glanced at each other and beamed as they listened to their mother’s invitation. “We insist on sharing fellowship at our haus!”
With a pleasant nod of her head, Sara accepted the invitation. “George will be grateful, I’m sure, to get to know your husband better as I will you and your dochders.” She glanced at Hannah and Leah as if contemplating something. “His company has been limited to my bruder, Freman, as of late . . . at least after he tends his schwester. Freman will be staying with us for some time, you see.”
Salome immediately glanced in his direction, giving away the fact that she already had noticed Freman’s presence. “I wondered when I saw him,” she said, although she had clearly connected the tall, unmarried Amish man with the Coblentzes. “He must come visit too. Mayhaps for Monday dinner?” She looked at Leah and Hannah. “The girls don’t work on Monday.”
With the visitation scheduled, Salome and Sara began to talk about other things while Leah and Hannah preened themselves as they tried to catch Freman’s attention. Not once did he look in Anna’s direction, but rather seemed intent on the conversation in which he was engaged.
While no one watched, Anna slipped out the door and wandered down the lane past the long line of black buggies parked on the grass.
There would be no escaping the fact that she would be in Freman’s presence sooner or later. If she had thought she was prepared to face him, she realized how wrong she had been. She took some deep breaths as she moved away from the house, wondering how he would respond to being in her company once again. That thought stayed with her long after she found herself wandering down the road, ignoring the rumble of her empty stomach as her feet led her swiftly toward Mary’s home. If her sister were to ask her why she left before the g’may meal, she would plead a headache, knowing that Mary—oft ill with headaches herself—would have to accept such an explanation without complaint.
Chapter Four
OF ALL THE days to be ill!” Mary plopped onto the sofa, jostling little Cris far too much for Anna’s liking. It was Monday, the day of the much-anticipated visit with the Coblentzes, and the poor boy lay ill with a fever. Cris Junior deserved better treatment from his mother. Still, Anna knew better than to speak her mind. Anything construed as criticism, no matter whether or not it was intended that way, would set off her sister, spiraling Mary into the depths of her moods.
That was happening quite often lately. Already, Anna could tell that her sister was teetering on the edge: every little detail in her daily life seemed to set her off, as if everyone in the g’may, family included, even her young son, were all conspiring together to make her life miserable.
With a loud sigh, Mary tucked a quilt along the child’s small body. He rested on the sofa, his eyes shut and his cheeks pale. Despite the way that Mary pushed the quilt under him, he gave no response to his mother’s distressed comment or less-than-compassionate touch. “I’ll have to stay home now, won’t I?” Mary complained. They had been invited to dinner at the Mussers in order to meet the Coblentzes, an appointment that Mary clearly had anticipated.
Mary stood up and stared down at her son, frustration etched on her face. Unlike her sister Anna, Mary was not the subdued type, her personality neither restrained nor repressed. She was resonant and boisterous, and, to Anna’s constant mortification, thrived on being the center of attention as well as conversation. It did not make her a bad person; it just made her a loud person. Missing out on an early visit with the newcomers was definitely not something that sat well with her.
Earlier in the day, Lydia Rothberger had stopped by, spending a few hours visiting with both Anna and Mary. They sat outside, Anna working on her quilting while the other two women crocheted, as the boys played on the rusty swing set near the garden. Despite being autumn, the weather remained pleasant enough, cool during the nights and warm during the days. With the sun on the back of her neck, Anna sighed, content with both the day and the company.
However, that changed rapidly.
Walter began to fight with his older brother. Earlier in the day, little Cris had complained that he felt poorly, h
is lack of energy a testament to his claim. Now, no matter how much his younger brother tried to encourage him to play, Cris Junior refused. Mary set down the blanket she was crocheting and glanced in their direction.
“Whatever are they fussing about now?” When she made no move in their direction, Anna rose from her seat and walked over to the playset.
Little Cris sat on the swing, his head pressed against the chain as his legs barely pushed himself back and forth. Walter, however, tugged on the other side, eager to encourage his brother to go down the slide with him.
“What’s wrong?” Anna asked as she knelt before him. When she reached out to touch his forehead, she realized that he had a fever. “Best get you inside, Cris,” she said, taking his hand and leading her willing patient into the house where she situated him on the sofa. He hadn’t stirred since.
Now Mary rose from the sofa and stomped back to the kitchen area. She rummaged through the cabinets, found a glass, and filled it with water from the faucet for her son. Her thoughts, however, were clearly not focused on the child’s well-being but rather on her own disappointment. She sipped from the glass before heading back to the sofa. “And I was so looking forward to meeting and visiting with the Coblentz family!” she repeated.
“Now, now, Mary,” Cris said as he stood in the doorway. He had just come in from his evening chores and still needed to wash up. His dirty boots stood by the doorway and there was dirt on his clothing. He looked tired and evidently not in the mood for an emotional outburst from his wife. Still, he patiently tried to reason with her. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to visit with them while they are staying here. It isn’t as if they are leaving anytime soon.”
His comment reminded Anna that the Coblentz family, and apparently Freman, were not going anywhere. The latest update about Irma, George’s sister, was that her health was quickly deteriorating and the family needed his support. Since George and Sara had sold their home, they had nowhere else to live; George had made clear his intention to stay near his sister’s family throughout their ordeal.
As for Freman, while Anna had thought long and hard about his sudden reappearance to Charm and completely understood that he wanted to visit with his sister, the implied duration of his stay simply did not make sense. While she knew that he had been raised north of Berlin, a larger town just ten miles away from Charm, it was her understanding that the rest of his family had moved away five years ago to the distant state of Montana. So why did it look as if he were here to stay for a while?
With a slight tremor in her heart, she focused on busying herself with washing the dishes from earlier in the day, something that Mary had said she would take care of but conveniently had forgotten when, to use her own words, a wave of fatigue had stricken her.
Handing the glass of water to her son, Mary didn’t offer the child any further help as she turned to face her husband, hand upon her hip and a frown upon her face. “Ja vell,” she snapped. “Easy enough for you to say since you are never forced to miss social engagements!”
“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 choosi
ng 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.
