by Sarah Price
“In your day was not that long ago, Mary. You talk as if you are an old woman,” Anna chided gently.
“Oh, you know what I mean! Can you imagine if one of them changed their mind?” Just the thought caused Mary to shake her head. “The scandal it would cause!”
“They’d hardly be the first, I’m sure,” Anna responded just as Cris walked in from having unharnessed the horse.
“Scandal? What scandal?” he asked, having overheard the tail end of his wife’s statement. He set his hat on the counter and joined them in the sitting area.
Mary waved her hand in the air, as if he should already know what she was referencing. “Your schwester and Caleb. They’re so ferhoodled that everyone already knows about their engagement. I was just saying to Anna, just imagine how scandalous it would be if one of them changed their minds!”
“Back in our day, we kept it secret,” he said, causing a laugh to escape Mary’s lips. It was a genuine laugh, one that Anna hadn’t heard from her sister in a long time. At the sound of it, Cris smiled at her, patiently waiting to be let in on the joke.
“Oh, Cris,” Mary said lightly. “That’s exactly what I said! And Anna teased me for saying it!” For a moment neither one of them spoke, and for the first time since she had been staying there, Anna observed a tender look pass between them. It dawned on her that Cris’s boundless patience balanced Mary’s never-ending grievances. Underneath their differences was one commonality: love.
“Best to save the reputation of them both, I suppose,” he finally stated.
“I’m sure Freman wishes he wasn’t so open about his affection for your other schwester,” Mary added, too casually for Anna’s care. “And he just shows up at our worship? Just out of the blue?”
Snapping his fingers, Cris abruptly turned toward Anna. “Speaking of Freman,” he said as he reached into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand, he held a white envelope between his fingers. “I’m not certain why, but he asked that I give this to you.” Before he handed it to her, he glanced at the front of it, quickly assessing the neat, cursive hand-writing that spelled out Anna’s name. “Must be from Sara, I reckon.”
The surprise of his words coupled with the envelope forced her to stare at him, unable to reach out and take it. He waved it, just twice, as if to awaken her from a trance, and laughed when, with trembling fingers, she finally removed it from his possession. Mary, however, had lost interest in the conversation and leaned forward, reaching for the book that rested in Anna’s lap.
“Where are you in the story?” she asked, looking from one of her sons to the other. “Mayhaps your aendi wouldn’t mind if I finished reading it with you.” The suggestion, a rare moment of attention bestowed upon them, caused the boys to nod their heads eagerly. She patted the stool next to the rocking chair, indicated little Cris should sit there, and opened her arms for Walter to sit upon her lap.
Despite her burning curiosity over the contents of the letter, when Anna stood to excuse herself, she couldn’t help but notice the satisfied smile upon her brother-in-law’s face as he listened to his wife reading to their children. Mary’s voice became animated when she read the lines of King Darius calling for Daniel. Setting aside her prejudices about their individual flaws, she suddenly saw them for what they truly were: a family. The realization caused her a moment’s pause as she watched them, the boys enjoying their mother’s undivided attention on a dreary and lazy Sunday evening.
Quietly Anna excused herself, the envelope clutched in her hands. She had recognized the handwriting on the envelope as Freman’s. Needing to read the letter alone, she sought the solace of her small bedroom upstairs.
Anna,
With a firm resolve to remain silent no longer, I have decided that the written word must suffice to carry my voice to your eyes.
Eight years have passed since my hopes were dashed and my heart broken upon learning that the disapproval of certain members of your family would keep us apart.
I made clear my intentions for finding a bride when I returned to Holmes County just a few weeks past. Yet, I fear that my intention may have been misunderstood, perhaps even by myself.
Do you not see, Anna? Even after all these years, it is you that drives my every waking moment!
You, and you alone, brought me back to Holmes County—something I realized almost immediately upon setting my eyes on you once again and hearing your sweet voice.
How is it possible that, when a creature so giving and godly pierces a man’s soul, his affections could fail to be deciphered by the intended recipient?
Tell me that I am not too late and that your feelings are not gone. Once again I offer myself to you with a heart even more hopeful than when I first presented my intentions.
A word, a look. . . that is all that I need from you this evening. Into your hands I entrust my heart. I pray that you grant me the honor of proving my worth, both to you and to those who have, in the past, persuaded you otherwise.
With God’s blessing, I shall remain very truly yours,
Freman Whittmore
Chapter Twenty
ANNA?”
At first, so lost in her thoughts, Anna did not hear Willis behind her, saying her name.
She was standing in the back of the gathering room at the Troyers’ house, feeling awkward among so many young people. Earlier that afternoon, she had decided to go to the singing that evening, hoping to ward off Willis’s attention in the optimistic hope that she might find Freman there. Having just arrived, her eyes scanned the gathering, seeking him out. After a few long minutes she finally spotted him on the other side of the room, detained by Bishop Troyer. She lingered nearby, hoping to catch his eye, but Freman seemed focused on whatever the bishop was saying. It didn’t surprise her; Freman loved to talk about Scripture and how to live out his faith. It was one of the traits she favored in him.
After her initial reading of the letter, she had spent a good hour in her bedroom. It took her that long to compose herself, knowing that she dare not return downstairs until she could conduct herself in a manner so as not to draw attention to the change in her demeanor. Without doubt, Mary would recognize how unnerved Anna had become, and in all likelihood, she would inquire as to the cause.
Anna knew it was better to remain isolated in her room than to expose her emotions.
While she sat on her bed, that precious single sheet of paper held between her two hands, her eyes reread each line. She savored everything about it: the words, the handwriting, the crisp white paper. Most importantly she felt the power of the heartfelt message intended to convince her, at last, that she had been mistaken, oh so very mistaken, in presuming the object of his affection.
Freman loved her and no other.
The world dissolving around her, she replayed the events of the past few weeks. Freman had returned so unexpectedly and made it clear that he sought a wife. Perhaps, in the beginning, he thought to find another, to repay the pain she had inflicted upon him in their youth. But soon he must have realized that her past rejection of him had been innocent in nature and true to a character that sought only to please. Torn between the wishes of her father and Freman’s desire to marry her, she had defaulted to what she had always done, pleasing her family even at the expense of her own—and Freman’s—happiness.
The events from the past weeks began to replay in her mind, her recollection of what she perceived as happening colliding with what she now understood so clearly. Contrary to what she and perhaps so many others believed, Freman’s frequent visits to the Mussers’ house had not been to court either Leah or Hannah; they had been a disguise for catching a glimpse of another: Anna.
While his presence at the farm had caused her endless grief and regret, his hope of seeing her had motivated him to make those trips from Charm to Sugarcreek.
Memories initially perceived as trivial suddenly took on a new meaning. It hadn’t been a strange coincidence when Freman entered Mary’s house, claiming to seek the Mussers’ daughter
s when he rescued her from a rambunctious Walter. Nor had it been mere chivalry when he insisted upon her riding home in the carriage with the Coblentzes after that walk up the hill. She even began to second-guess the true reason behind the invitation to Lancaster, for according to his words, his interest lay not in courting Leah but in finding a way to reach Anna.
He loved her.
That thought, and that thought alone, had changed her.
“Anna?”
Now, it was only when she heard her name being called a second time and felt a hand upon her arm that she turned and found herself staring directly into the face of the only person she had not wanted to see: Willis Eicher. “Oh, I . . . ” She started to turn, to look in Freman’s direction, but Willis’s persistence forced her to pay attention to him.
“A moment, Anna,” he said, a soft smile on his lips. “Please . . . ”
Unable to say no without causing people to notice, Anna nodded her head, and with one last glance toward where Freman stood, relented to follow Willis onto the porch of the Troyers’ house.
Outside, the cool air chilled her. Unlike the first time that he had stopped by Cris and Mary’s house, his appearance unexpected and disarming, he didn’t seem to notice that she shivered. Instead, he took a deep breath and lifted his chin as he prepared what she quickly realized was a speech that he had practiced, most likely more than once, before speaking the rehearsed words to her in person.
“I have made my decision,” he proclaimed in earnest. “I shall not return to Florida.”
“Oh?” She wanted to glance over her shoulder and through the door window, but resisted the urge.
“It is my intention to reside here, Anna, and in due time assist in recollecting your family to your rightful home in Charm.”
A light dawned within her and she suspected that she knew what would soon follow. She knew she had to extract herself and return inside, the friendly atmosphere perhaps offering her the only hope she might ever have of approaching Freman.
“I’m sure that it would be painful to return to Barbie’s family,” she said. “It has only been but a few months.”
Her mention of his deceased wife caused him a moment’s pause. Her words clearly impeded his planned speech and he needed that time to recollect his thoughts.
“A few months gone,” he admitted, “but a man needs to move on and live his life, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Ah,” she quipped lightly, grabbing the opportunity to alter the tone of the conversation. “Like Benjamin Esh and his engagement to Leah Musser.”
“I . . . ”
“You aren’t familiar with Benjamin, of course, being that he’s from Lancaster. Surely, however, you must have learned of the circumstances surrounding Leah’s engagement.” She sighed and added, “Although I did not know Benjamin’s fiancée, I am certain that she would not have easily, nor so suddenly, forgotten her intended.”
“It’s true that I do not know the Esh family, but I’m sure that his fiancée doted on him.”
Anna nodded. “It is not in any woman’s nature who dotes on her beloved to abandon the memory so quickly, not if she truly loved him.” She sensed a presence behind her but resisted the urge to see who it was.
“Do you claim that women have stronger emotions than men, then?” Willis asked.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to presume that,” she countered. “But I do believe that we cling to memories much longer than you do. And is it any wonder? From the moment of our birth, our fates are so very different.”
He seemed genuinely interested in her opinion. “Do explain, Anna.”
“Certainly.” She paused for good measure. “What is an Amish woman’s role but to think of her future home? We are taught to manage the house, our chores focused on supporting our husband and raising godly kinner. Our worth is measured by those near and dear to our hearts. Men, on the other hand, are responsible for a profession that, in most cases, entails interactions with others, a chance to see worldliness for what it is, and, as such, protect his family from its grip. Even more important, his righteousness and reputation improve with the outward exertion.”
He laughed, clearly amused by her statement. “And a woman’s reputation?”
As she started to respond, she heard the door slowly open behind her. “Why, hers would decrease in similar conditions, for it is expected that only inward efforts, namely those within the walls of her home, extol her true virtue.”
Someone cleared his throat, and without turning around, Anna knew who it was.
Willis glanced over her shoulder and greeted Freman with a smile of recognition from earlier in the day, giving her the opportunity to step aside to make way for the newcomer. The two men introduced each other with a simple, but firm, handshake. When Freman made no move to excuse his interruption upon their discussion, Willis easily shifted the conversation to a less intimate topic: their occupations. The irony of this subject matter, in light of what she had just stated, was not lost on Anna. In silence she stood between the two men, positioning herself so that she faced Freman more than Willis. While subtle in nature, she hoped the gesture would be recognized by the one while overlooked by the other.
“Oh, dear,” she said when there was a lull in the conversation. She lifted a hand to her throat and forced a slight cough. “I think I shall go for a lemonade.”
“Permit me!” Willis offered, all too eager to demonstrate his care for her needs.
He was gone but for a moment when Anna turned to Freman, knowing her limited chance to freely speak her mind, to share her thoughts, after reading his profound declarations of endearment.
Under the steady gaze of his eyes, cleverness escaped her. She opened her mouth, expecting words to flood out, wanting to respond in kind to the sentiment that he clearly crafted with intense consideration.
“Freman . . . ” Her voice broke and it was all that she could do to contain the burning feeling that tightened her throat and threatened her eyes.
He delivered her from more suffering by lowering his voice as he said, “That is a word, Anna.”
She nodded her head, emboldened by his gaze. “It is a word,” she said softly. “The one and only word that I wish to say first thing in the morning and last thing at night.” A single tear clouded her vision, and as it fell down her cheek, she gave a soft, embarrassed laugh and quickly wiped it away.
A look of relief replaced his pensive expression. Had he truly doubted her response? She could scarcely believe he had not known, all along, that she had never stopped loving him. With his confidence restored, he reached for her hand. Lifting it so that it brushed against his chest, the very spot where his heart beat, he sighed and smiled at her.
“We should leave here, Anna,” he said, quickly glancing over his shoulder. She understood what he meant. Courting couples simply slipped away during the singing in order to spend time alone in the buggy, their disappearance an indicator that they were, indeed, courting someone, even if the companion was unknown. Some made a game of it, the woman leaving the group after the man had left. Leaving together would be the kindest way to signal to Willis that any sentiment he held for Anna would best be saved for another young woman.
In the privacy of the buggy, under the shadows of darkness, Freman shared the details of the past eight years. She listened without interrupting, her heart aching once again for having caused him such distress. To think that he had moved to Lancaster in hopes of bettering his prospects with the sole intention of returning to gain her favor! Tears filled her eyes once again, especially when he added how, after several years passed, his pride took precedence over his passion and he decided not to return. Despite hoping otherwise, he simply presumed she had wed another and tried to forget.
“Indiana is where I decided to live,” he told her. “Mayhaps in the back of my mind I thought I would hear word of you and learn of your fate. Who had you married? How many kinner were you raising? Never did I imagine that my schwester would rent the very house
where we said good night . . . and eventually good-bye!”
She lifted her hand and touched his arm. “I should never have yielded to the wishes of others!”
“And so I regained hope, Anna, when you said as much today!” He slowed down the horse and the buggy came to a standstill. Shifting in the seat, he turned toward her. “I knew that I had only one choice and that was to bare my feelings to you before another stepped forward.”
Without saying his name, Freman’s reference to Willis was understood.
She had not been dreaming when she suspected his jealousy earlier that day. That had fueled both the intimacy and urgency of his prose.
“No other could step forward,” she said in response. “Did my behavior not indicate so much?”
“It did, Anna. But I was blind to see it.” He laughed and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “Mayhaps I feared that you could still be persuaded against me, especially when I suspected that my devotion to you was misconceived by others.”
“I am afraid I could not discern your feelings,” Anna said softly.
“Nor could I read yours. You kept them well hidden!” he laughed.
Then he spoke with regret of his unintentional misleading of Leah. Only when Benjamin told him of his engagement to Leah, seeming fearful of his reaction, did Freman realize how everyone had misinterpreted his attentions to Leah. He assured Anna he had been quick to congratulate Benjamin and assure him of his unwavering support. And Anna could rest in the knowledge that, indeed, Freman had never intended to mislead Leah, play on her emotions, or deceive her. Rather, he had relied on his friendship with the Musser family to enable him to be near Anna in order to ascertain whether she might yet have some feelings for him.
