by Sarah Price
“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.
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.
“It is a zebra! How clever you are!”
The boy beamed and nudged his younger brother who, just shy of three years of age, fell over at the slight. Immediately, they began to tussle, wrestling on the floor. Mary grabbed Cris Junior’s arm and pulled him aside.
“I knew you’d have too much sugar,” she scolded, dragging her son out of the kitchen by his elbow and toward the side door. Young Walter began to cry but, true to his nature of solemn loyalty to his brother, followed them.
The wails of young Cris faded away, overshadowed only by Mary’s harsh words, half in Dutch and half in English.
From her seat on the sofa, Salome pursed her lips, her eyes watching as her two grandsons and daughter-in-law disappeared. Leah and Hannah both shook their heads but remained silent. Feeling uncomfortable, Anna was uncertain whether or not she should leave with Mary. However, leaving after just arriving seemed almost as discourteous as her sister’s departure, so she quickly opted to stay.
“It’s right gut to see you,” Anna managed to say with a small smile. “I wanted to visit before the supper hour.”
The tension lifted. Sitting at the kitchen table, Leah’s arms were stained a reddish-purple, almost matching the color of her work dress, as she stirred the contents of a large metal pot with her hands. Without having to ask, Anna knew that she was pickling beets to be canned for the winter months. The sweet smell of vinegar mixed with raw cane sugar and pickling spices began to fill the room, overcoming the scent of baked cookies, most of which the boys had eaten long ago. Cookies never lasted long in any kitchen when Cris Junior and Walter were around.
“You should stay for supper then,
” Leah said, a genuine smile on her face. Her straw-blonde hair framed her face and her pretty cornflower-blue eyes sparkled when she spoke. “It’ll be a welcome change for all of us, I’m sure.”
Hannah agreed and looked at her mother. “We have plenty, ain’t so, Maem?”
There was no need to nod her head. Instead, Salome smiled and patted a spot on the sofa, indicating that Anna should sit down beside her. “Kum, kum, Anna,” she said. “Amuse me with your clever stories.”
The compliment, unexpected and, in Anna’s eyes, unwarranted, brought a flush to her cheeks. “I dare say that I don’t have any stories, and if I did, I certainly wouldn’t know if they were clever or not!” But she joined the older woman, pleased for the joyful reception from the Musser family.
“The boys are keeping you busy, then?”
Anna nodded. “The boys are a refreshing change from the everyday, ja? I’m not certain which one makes me laugh more! Little Cris with his mischief or Walter with his ability to attract dirt to his face, even just after he’s had his bath!”
“Bless him, that child!” Salome said, a smile on her lips but some pain showing in her eyes. She lifted her hand to her cheek, gently touching her own skin as if to remember the soft touch of another, from years long gone. “Surely he reminds me so much of my dear Rodney.”
A moment of silence blanketed the room at the mention of her deceased son who, almost ten years ago, had been called home to walk with Jesus. Anna remembered the news of Rodney’s passing. What had started out as a severe headache quickly escalated into something much worse: a malignant brain tumor. He had only been twenty when he died.
Clearing her throat, Salome lowered her hand and took a deep breath. As she exhaled, she looked at Anna, studying her for a long moment. Finally, she asked, “You are faring well at Mary’s, then?”
The shift in conversation, while welcomed by all, startled Anna, mostly because of the curious tone of the question which hinted at more than just polite inquisitiveness.
“Quite well, danke,” she responded.
“Your calming nature must be a pleasant addition to the household,” Hannah quipped. “For sure and certain, ja?”
“Perhaps it will linger after you have left,” Leah was quick to add, to which Salome cast a stern look in the direction of her daughters.
Anna laughed, uncomfortable with the hidden complaint in the compliment. “One sure does learn to appreciate moments of quiet, that’s for sure and certain. But I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. I enjoy those kinner so much, I’m afraid I’ll be hesitant to leave.”
Salome nodded her head, approving of Anna’s tact in responding.
“You must miss your daed and schwester, ja?” Without waiting for Anna to answer, she caught her breath and leaned forward, another thought having just occurred to her. “Have you been to meet George and Sara Coblentz yet?”
“Nee,” Anna confessed. “I have not.”
Salome smiled, understanding written on her face. “In due time, I reckon. That must be a disconcerting feeling, to move from your daed’s haus!”
With all of her being, Anna wished she could speak her mind and tell them that it wasn’t a disconcerting feeling to leave her father’s house; that she could bear just fine, danke. And it didn’t bother her that someone else enjoyed it now. Nee, neither of those two reasons struck her as remotely troublesome. What created unease for Anna was the idea that, should she call upon the Coblentz family, she might run into her past. Instead of speaking, Anna merely lowered her eyes.
Salome hesitated, after glancing at Leah and Hannah, then spoke once again: “We would have come to visit you yesterday, Anna. But we went to welcome them with Bishop Troyer’s fraa.”
This news brightened Anna’s mood: a welcome diversion from her thoughts of Freman. Looking up, she smiled. “Ja? And how did you find them, then? Were they to your liking? Are they godly people?”
“Oh, heavens!” Salome clapped her hands together and laughed. “Godly? Why, I’ve never met such a fine woman! That Sara . . . why! . . . she’ll be the perfect caretaker of your daed’s haus! She’s quite fastidious, you see. Everything is so clean that it shines!”
Hannah dried her hands on a towel and walked over to the sitting area. “They have a visitor coming next week,” she said, a light growing in her eyes. At eighteen, Hannah was young and pretty, the slight up curve of her nose giving her face a playful look. Since both sisters were younger than Anna, they ran with a different set of friends. But Anna always had thought kindly of both young women, even if they were more animated and lively than most Amish women.
From the kitchen, Leah called out, “Ja, her bruder!”
“Her . . . bruder?”
Anna felt her heart skipping a beat as she held her breath for a few seconds and forced herself to remain calm. The last thing she wanted was to appear curious. Surely they didn’t mean Freman, for he had left Charm, Ohio, almost immediately after Anna refused his offer of marriage. The grapevine did not speak of his sudden departure, at least not in the presence of Anna. And, given the rest of the Eicher family’s tendency to focus on themselves, and not on other individuals that they deemed less interesting, she heard of no scuttlebutt in the community divulging his whereabouts.
That had been years ago.
Hannah glanced at her sister and a secretive look passed between them. “Leah heard his name is Freman and he’s quite handsome,” she went on, quickly dodging the hand towel that was thrown in her direction.
“Why would you notice, with Caleb calling on you!”
Hannah flushed at the mention of her second cousin, Caleb Wagler. While some Amish youth kept their courtships private until such a time when the wedding was announced by a deacon right after worship, apparently Caleb was not one of them. Not only did he bring Hannah home from every youth singing, but he also had made clear to other potential suitors that he had every intention of marrying Hannah. While she remained silent about her own feelings on the matter, no one doubted that she shared Caleb’s sentiments.
“I’m promised to no one!” Hannah retorted quickly but without credence. “I suppose I still may ride home with any young man who asks me!” “Girls!” Salome chastised them with her voice, but her eyes held a sparkle that clearly indicated that she too hoped that the younger brother of Sara Coblentz might come calling on one of her dochders. But wouldn’t Freman be married by now?
Anna felt as if the walls were closing upon her. The lightness in her head was as intense as the heaviness in her chest. Despite the continuation of the visit, including two more invitations to supper which she declined, her mind remained focused on one realization: Freman was returning to Charm!
It wasn’t until later that evening, as she sat upon the edge of her bed, staring at the empty white wall before her, that she became aware of something even more consequential: his physical absence had not lessened the emotional turmoil that she felt, even after so many years, upon hearing his name.
Chapter Three
WHEN HE WALKED into the worship service, Anna Eicher had to catch her breath.
For the past week, she had tried to prepare herself for this moment, the moment when her eyes would fall, once again, upon Freman Whittmore�
��for the first time in eight years! She had thought herself ready, her inner discourse aimed at rehashing the reasons why, despite herself, she had rejected his proposal: Daed thought him too reproachable, and Lydia thought him not worth risking her daed’s disapproval. And Anna found their arguments too persuasive.
Yet, nothing could have properly prepared her for when she once again saw his face. She recognized him immediately when his tall form followed the other Amish men walking single file into the room, their Sunday hats casting shadows over their brows so she couldn’t see his eyes. It didn’t matter. She knew that he wasn’t glancing around the room in order to catch her gaze. He probably didn’t even know that she was watching him moving through the line of empty pine benches, waiting until the men stopped and sat down, sliding the length of the bench to make room for each other.
He looked the same, she thought, a flurry of emotions coursing through her veins. For the briefest of seconds, she was no longer sitting on a hard, pine bench but was transported through her memory to a time, eight years prior, when she had sat beside him in his borrowed buggy. His strong hands held the reins and he smiled as he talked to her. When he asked her a question and she responded, he nodded his head with approval at her words. Respect. That was what he had offered her eight years ago. Respect and his hand in marriage: two things that, with the deepest sense of loyalty to her family, she had found herself rejecting.
Not a day had passed when she did not think back to that rejection and the ensuing grief that she felt when he, caught off-guard with her denial, had slipped his hat back upon his head and turned to leave. As his buggy pulled away, the dark canopy shadowing his face, she hadn’t called for him to return. Oh, how she had wanted to! She had wanted nothing more than to run after him and stop the horse, to confess that it was a mistake and that there was nothing she wanted more than to become his wife.
