by Sarah Price
“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 choosing 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 t
o 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.
“Wie gehts, Walter?” she asked. He had fallen and bumped his head on the furniture. Wrapping him into her arms, she sat on the floor, rocking him back and forth to soothe him. She never heard the sound of the two buggies that pulled into the driveway, passing the small house in front of its entrance as they traveled to the larger of the Mussers’ homes in the back, near the garden.
Chapter Five
OVER MORNING COFFEE, Mary sat at the kitchen table, a wistful smile on her lips as she stared at the wall, her eyes clouded over with satisfaction. Her spoon tapped rapidly against the edge of the coffee cup, the gentle noise almost as constant as the ticking of the clock upon the wall.
“I wonder which one it will be,” she said dreamily.
Anna glanced up from where she sat on the bench, encouraging Cris Junior to eat his toast. His fever was gone, but he had not yet regained his energy or his appetite. He sat next to her at the kitchen table, his head pressed against his cheek, and shook his head at Anna’s patient attempts. Walter still slept, for which Anna was thankful. With Mary in such a dreamy state, Anna knew that it would fall to her to tend to Walter’s needs when he awoke. “Which one what will be, Mary?”
“Not ‘what’! Who!” Mary laughed, a childish sound of delight.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Anna replied.
With a quick rolling of her eyes, Mary leaned forward and said, “Why, which girl has caught Freman’s eye!”
Her sister’s statement felt like a knife cutting through Anna’s heart. Mary never knew of her aborted courtship with Freman, of course. Mary had been both too young and too self-absorbed to pay much attention to Anna and her despondent state. But had she already so accepted that Anna was an old maedel that she couldn’t even fathom the idea of Freman as a potential suitor for her single sister?
While she had decidedly avoided being in his presence the previous evening, voluntarily offering to sit with the two boys, it never had dawned on Anna that either of the Musser daughters would be considered a match for Freman. Notwithstanding the age difference, a match between Leah or Hannah with Freman would imply a move to another state. Yet Salome’s dependence on her daughters was clear to everyone who knew her. And, of course, the idea that one of Mary’s sisters-in-law might become Freman’s wife rekindled the remorse she felt at declining his offer of marriage.
Cris laughed at his wife’s question. “Leah, no doubt. She is a bit high-spirited! I rather think that would be quite a complementary match for Freman, ja?”
“Nee, you are incorrect!” Mary pouted. “Hannah. She is far prettier . . . in a plain sort of way. I don’t think Leah would suit someone as stoic and proper as Freman Whittmore! Why, he’s so serious and practical and godly, I think Leah’s silliness would not sit well with him at all.”
From what Anna could gather from the bits and pieces of information that Mary provided, the previous day’s visit had been rather successful. Sara Coblentz fit in wonderfully well with the Musser women, despite the strange, flimsy-shaped prayer kapp that she wore. As for her husband, George, everyone found him much to their liking, enjoying his stories and wise contributions to the discussion.
“It’s not everyone who could remain so interested in hearing about your parents’ cousins and nephews and whatever else seems to slip off your maem’s tongue,” Mary said airily. “It isn’t as if he knew anyone!”
“A fine addition to our community,” Cris agreed, ignoring his wife’s slight toward his mother. “A most agreeable evening, ja?” As if in an afterthought, he turned to Anna and gave her a quick smile. “Your presence was missed by all.”
“All but that Freman, for sure and certain,” Mary added dismissively. “He did not speak well of Anna, although he seemed most attentive to me, didn’t he, Cris?”
Anna was used to Mary deflecting attention back to herself, whether by changing the subject so that she could be the center of it or by debasing whoever was the subject, in this case, Anna. While she normally simply ignored her sister’s uncultured approach to socializing, this time Anna looked up and stared at Mary. No words could express the sinking feeling that was forming in her stomach.
“Why, he went so far as to mention how he remembered you from several years ago and that you were now so altered that he barely recognized you!” With no indication that she realized, even ever so slightly, that she may have stepped over the margins of propriety, she laughed, her hand fluttering in the air. “Pffft, altered beyond any memory, he said; although I dare say that might not be such a bad thing.”
Too aware that Cris watched her, his lips pressed tightly together, Anna excused herself from the table, justifying her rapid departure on the sound of little Walter crying from his room on the second floor.
When she first saw Freman at the worship service, it felt as though time had stood still. She was no longer the young, carefree girl of seventeen. Indeed, at twenty-four years of age (twenty-five in just another three months), Anna knew that her youth had faded and her options were now limited. She acknowledged it privately, unlike her sister Elizabeth, who had no qualms about vocalizing how she accepted—nee. . . embraced!—the fact that she would never marry, having just turned thirty only last spring.
The fading bloom of youth was a bitter pill to swallow, though. Anna doted on her nephews, both by choice and by chance, for Mary was quite happy to relinquish their care to her. As a young girl, Anna just assumed that she would eventually marry and have babies, raise a large family, and surround herself with love, laughter, and life. Mayhaps her attachment to her sister’s kinner was but just a shadow of her intimate desires. Or regrets.
However, Freman had remained even more handsome than she remembered. From what she could gather from her sister, he was also proper in his dealings with people and godly in his behavior. Neither surprised her for she remembered him in the same manner. Still, his words hurt Anna, even if she knew that he had ju
st cause. A broken heart often held scars long after it had mended.
“Anna!”
She had barely gotten Walter changed when she heard Mary calling up the stairs for her attention. As she fastened Walter’s pants, she smiled at him. “Seems your maem wants me little man, ja?”
He giggled and reached out to pull at her prayer kapp strings, causing it to shift sideways on her head. “Now, Walter,” she scolded gently as she set him on the floor. “We don’t do that. I’ve told you before . . . ”
But he didn’t hear her. His bare feet carried him across the floor as he ran to the stairs.
“Careful!” she called out, knowing that the overly energetic Walter was most likely already halfway down the staircase.
After touching up her kapp she returned downstairs to see what Mary needed.
“I have a dreadful headache,” she said. “Cris’s maem wanted to see the boys. Might you take them over there, then?”
Knowing that it was fruitless to argue that Cris Junior was still feeling poorly and, in all likelihood, should not be moved, Anna merely nodded her head. Mayhaps the fresh air could do the child some good, she tried to convince herself. And Walter, a spitfire of energy, could certainly use some time outdoors.
They walked down the lane, Cris holding her hand while Walter ran along the fence-line, yelling at the mules. At one point, he tripped over a rock, hidden beneath the tall grass, and fell against the fence before tumbling to the ground. Anna started to rush to his side, but the child stood up and laughed, continuing to run toward his grandparents’ house.
“There she is!” Salome welcomed her with a wide smile. “You were missed last night.”
