Point was, the trip kept him busy for the better part of the afternoon.
By the time he made it back to the road that cut off to his farm, he should have been exhausted. He should have pulled in and gone home.
But he didn’t.
Instead he murmured to his mare and directed it down the road that led to Annie Weaver’s house.
“She’s too young,” he muttered, even as he allowed the mare a steady trot. “I’ve no business courting a girl her age.”
The mare offered no answer, and neither did the fields, which lay quiet in the December afternoon. The weather remained pleasant, considering the amount of snow dumped on them less than forty-eight hours earlier. He could actually feel his toes as he rode along in the buggy.
Muttering to no one, he admitted, “Thought I’d grown used to being alone.”
And no one answered him, but a hawk soared above— dipping once, then settling out to ride on the currents of air Samuel couldn’t even see.
He knew faith resembled the currents—something that he couldn’t see but that existed in his life nonetheless. It would hold him up, just as the air currents supported the hawk.
And he could trust his heart to tell him the correct thing to do regarding one Miss Annie Weaver.
Thirty minutes later he pulled into Jacob’s lane—feeling a bit foolish, but set on his course.
When a man has made up his mind, when he’s prayed things through and decided to risk his pride and heart one more time—well, it gives him a fresh perspective on things.
Jacob’s fields appeared well-tended.
And David Hostetler looked a tad less gangly as he made his way down the lane—possibly owing to the fact he was leaving for the day. If he’d been staying, Samuel might have had more trouble waving and smiling at the lad.
Past.
Any jealously he might have felt toward David was past.
He’d make his intentions plain to Jacob and then Annie tonight. Then they could move into the future, or at least the present.
“Are you here for dinner, Samuel?” Reba stood in the doorway, smiling at him, holding a kitten in her arms.
“Let Samuel in and take the kitten to the barn, Reba Weaver.”
“I will, Mamm.” Reba slid past him, broke into a run when her feet hit the last porch step.
As usual, the house teemed with conversation and energy. Smells of freshly baked bread and some homemade soup he couldn’t identify filled the air.
Then there were the decorations of Christmas that had been steadily increasing each time he’d stopped by—a small smattering of gifts wrapped in brown paper, tied with red ribbon, and stacked under the table holding the gas reading lamp. The smell of evergreen boughs—Adam must have cut some and brought them in as Annie had been asking him to. Battery-operated candles had been placed in each window, waiting for someone to switch them on once night had completely fallen.
Jacob sat in the living room while the women busied themselves preparing the meal.
“Samuel, nice to see you. I just sat down with The Budget.” Jacob made to push himself out of the chair with the help of his cane, but Samuel stopped him.
“Don’t get up. I was in the area—” Samuel hesitated over the excuse that usually explained why he stopped by. “Actually, I came over because I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Rebekah, Charity, and Annie were working on the far side of the kitchen. He didn’t think they could hear him, but he wasn’t sure—and he certainly didn’t want to be interrupted.
“I’m suspecting this is something of a private nature?”
“Ya, actually. It is.”
“Can it wait until after supper?”
Samuel smiled, sat down in the chair Jacob indicated. “Actually, it can.”
“Rebekah, Samuel’s staying for dinner.”
“We were hoping he might.”
Jacob pulled the paper apart, passed half of it to Samuel.
Samuel had read it already, but he didn’t mind looking over the upcoming auction again, especially since it gave him a chance to listen to the chatter in the other room. Something about the General Store, new clothes, and Onkel Eli.
The women’s voices flowed over him like a fresh spring breeze, and he found himself relaxing for the first time all day.
Why had he resisted coming here?
Why had he resisted Annie?
Fifteen minutes flew by, and then Adam came in with Leah and Reba in tow. Extra chairs were pulled up to the table, heads were bowed in silent prayer, then large bowls of potato soup and platters of fresh, hot bread were passed around.
“Annie, your new dress turned out very nice,” Leah said, accepting the platter of bread.
“Danki.” Annie blushed a rosy pink, and Samuel had the sudden desire to tease her more. Instead, he waited for her to raise her eyes to his.
When she did, he smiled, held her gaze.
“You must have sewed all day,” Leah continued.
“Ya, and Charity didn’t work today, so she was able to help me.”
She must have expected him to say something, because his silence seemed to confuse her. She picked up her spoon, then set it back down. Finally reaching for her glass of iced tea, she took a sip from it.
When had he first noticed how beautiful she was? The night she came home to help her father?
Conversation swirled around them. He tried to answer when spoken to, attempted to participate so no one would think he’d gone completely daft, but the meal seemed to stretch on twice as long as normal.
Finally, Jacob pushed back from the table.
“Rebekah, I’d like to show Samuel something in the barn if we’re done here.”
“Ya. You men go on outside.”
“I can help with the dishes,” Leah said.
“No. Adam will be taking you home before it’s too late. Already the sun is beginning to set.” Rebekah embraced the young woman. “I’m glad he brought you over for dinner, though. Man needs to find time for the girl he loves.”
Adam had pulled his hat from the peg by the door. Pushing it down on his head, he tried to look put out with both of them. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two had been talking about me again.”
“Of course we have,” Rebekah confessed. “We talk about what a sweet boy you are. Now take her home, and be careful on the main road.”
Samuel watched as Adam helped Leah into her coat. They seemed so natural together. Something about being around the two of them reminded him of when he was young.
When he was with Mary.
The memory remained precious to him, but for some reason it no longer hurt like it once did. He didn’t miss her any less, didn’t expect he’d ever miss her any less, but he now knew God intended for him to live in the present, not the past.
He held the front door open as Jacob grabbed his cane and hobbled through it.
“How are your legs feeling?” he asked, more out of habit than any real concern.
“Gut. Feels gut. Both itch like crazy. Had Reba find me a long stick so I could scratch down inside of the casts last night.”
“Means they’re healing, Jacob. That’s an excellent sign.”
They walked into the night, their steps crunching over the snow as they moved toward the barn. Somehow speaking in the barn seemed appropriate too. Samuel had always been more comfortable there—with the animals, close to the earth.
“How do you expect the spring planting to be?”
“We’ve had plenty of snow, as you know, so I expect planting will be fine, but I doubt you wanted to talk to me about crops.” Jacob smiled as he picked up an old piece of wood he’d been working with and began sanding.
“You’re right.” Samuel cleared his throat, tried to think of where to begin. “Actually, what I came to talk to you about… That is, what I’d like your permission on…”
Samuel stopped, wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I feel like a school boy.”
“You’re doing fine,” Jacob said, now watching him with a smile on his face.
“What I wanted to ask is for your permission to court Annie.”
Jacob stood and slapped him on the back. “I knew you could get that out if I gave you long enough; however, you know it’s not necessary to ask my permission. You’re free to see Annie if you’d like to do so—and if she’s willing.”
“True, but our situation is different. We’re not youngsters— well, what I mean is I’m not a young man like Adam.”
“You’re not exactly old either.” Jacob studied him, a smile creasing his face as he waited for him to continue.
“Ya. The way I reasoned it out, though, it seems appropriate that in this situation I would come to you first, speak to you about it first, and ask your permission—though I know it’s not necessary.”
“And my answer is of course you can.” Jacob grabbed his hand, shook it firmly.
“Just like that?” Samuel returned the man’s handshake, feeling a bit dazed. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been that Jacob might refuse him.
“Just like that.”
“Don’t you have any questions for me?”
“I’ve known you as long as I’ve known Annie, son. What would you expect me to ask?”
Samuel sat down on the workbench, picked up a discarded piece of wood, and studied it. “I don’t know. I expected there’d be questions.”
“Maybe you’d like to ask me something.”
“No. No, I’ve puzzled this out for quite some time. Resisted it, too. But I believe Annie’s the girl for me. I believe God might have brought her back home for me.”
Jacob chuckled softly. “You have seemed a bit smitten.”
“I have?”
Retrieving the long block of wood, Jacob began sanding it again. “I could see it. A man can tell.”
“Our age difference worried me a bit,” Samuel confided. “I thought she might be better off with someone her own age. Someone like David.”
Jacob nodded. “Age difference can be a problem, but it can be a help at times too.”
“Ya, I see your point. In the beginning, when you were first injured, when Annie first came back, it stirred up quite a few memories of Mary.”
Jacob’s hand paused on the block of wood, and he looked Samuel in the eye. “I know those years were a hard time for you, son.”
“Ya, but I don’t believe God would have me live in the past. I can still honor her and move on with my life.”
“I believe you can.”
“All this talk, and I don’t even know how Annie feels about me. I haven’t even asked.”
“There’s one way to find out.” Jacob nodded toward the house.
“You wouldn’t mind if I—”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Annie watched Samuel walk across from the barn, past the nativity scene, and toward the house. In the fading light, she couldn’t make out his expression. What had he been talking to her dat about? The way Samuel had gazed at her during dinner—it had sent fireflies skittering around her stomach.
Now, as he paused at the bottom step of the porch, she had the certain feeling something was about to change.
Excitement surged through her heart—parts of her heart.
But other parts held back, wanted to run upstairs to the bed she’d slept in since she was a little girl, pull the covers over her head, and insist everything remain the same.
What if he said something that crushed her dreams?
He certainly looked serious.
“Evening, Annie.”
“Evening, Samuel.”
He joined her at the porch railing. “Cold out tonight.”
“Ya, but I like looking for the stars as they begin to appear.”
They stood that way a minute, staring up as the last of the light faded from the sky, until Samuel finally broke the silence. “Leah was right, you know.”
She cocked her head, waited.
“About your dress. It’s very pretty.”
The warmth started deep within her and rose up into her cheeks, until Annie felt as if her face was on fire like the western sky in front of them.
“Samuel Yoder, I never know what is going to come out of your mouth.”
“I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes—if you’re not too cold.” He motioned toward the oak rocking chairs.
Annie’s thoughts immediately conjured up that other evening when she’d first come home. “Why don’t we walk instead?” She pulled her coat more snugly around her mid-section, though she could hardly feel the chill in the air with Samuel so close by her side.
“All right. Sure.”
Annie followed her natural path, the one she took most evenings, the one that led to the vegetable garden behind the house. Though snow still covered the rows, she could now imagine it as they’d planned it for spring. She’d spent hours with Charity and her mamm looking at seed catalogs.
“How do you feel about me, Annie?”
His question caught her completely off guard. She’d wrestled with it so many times, but she’d never expected to be asked and certainly never by him.
“You know how I feel, Samuel.” When he didn’t rescue her by agreeing, she swallowed and pushed on. “I respect you very much. You have excellent doctoring skills—and of course I realize you’re not a doctor. You’re very kind to the people in our community, and you give to them selflessly. You’ve done so for a long time. I admire that about you.”
“I didn’t ask for a professional reference.” He leaned back against the fence post, blocking her way into the garden. “But danki for the kind words.”
“Gem gschehne.” Samuel’s words confused her, but his smile made her pulse jump in a gut way. So why was she so lightheaded all of a sudden? Perhaps she had caught something from one of the patients with fever on Saturday.
Was this conversation actually happening?
“How do you feel about me, Annie?” This time he reached out and tucked a stray curl into her prayer kapp. The touch sent a shiver all the way to her toes, even though she could barely feel her toes—the night’s cold had fallen around them like a blanket of ice.
“I… I like you, Samuel.” As an afterthought she added, “Now.”
His laughter pierced the night.
“Oh, Annie. You are a delight, do you realize that?”
She slapped his arm and pushed past him into the garden, though it now lay cloaked in near-darkness. Suddenly, she needed to be there, needed to be among the rows where she would plant seedlings in a few months.
“I don’t know why you’re teasing me. You know yourself how hard you were to be around when I first came—and I certainly didn’t like you then. You growled every time I stepped into the room. Do you even remember the conversation on my own front porch? You practically threw me out of my parents’ home.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Instead of sounding defensive, he actually sounded amused.
“Ya, you did.” She wanted to stomp her foot, wanted to wipe the smile off his face, though she could barely see it in the gathering dusk. She could hear it, though. What had gotten into him? Why was he behaving so oddly?
And then he said the words she hadn’t ever expected to hear. “I was a little frightened the evening you came home, Annie. I didn’t know what to think of you. When you arrived, breathless and worried, in your dat’s room, you weren’t what I expected. You still aren’t what I expect, and that has me confused—I’ll be honest.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I enjoy your company, on many levels.” His shoulder brushed against hers as they turned and began walking back toward the house, back toward the glow of the gas lamps in the kitchen and living room, back toward the windows lighted with Christmas candles.
“I spoke with your father earlier this evening, asked him if it would be all right for me to come calling. Would you mind if I came calling, Annie?”
“I
… I don’t know what to say,” she stammered, her heart now beating faster, but she slowed her steps. She wasn’t ready to be back on the porch yet.
“Say yes. Say you’d like to spend time with me. Say I don’t have to keep pretending to be checking on your father’s leg when I stop by.”
Her laughter bubbled up, surprising them both.
“I’d sort of figured that was a ruse.”
“Oh, you had, had you?”
“Ya.”
“Ruse—is that another Englisch word you learned?”
They continued up the porch steps, but he stopped her before they entered the house.
“You’ll think on what I’ve said?” he asked softly.
“Of course I will.”
“Danki.” Then he opened the door for her.
The evening had taken on an unreal quality to Annie, but she didn’t mind one bit. In fact, it might be something she could grow to like.
21
The next day was Thursday, December twenty-third. How had the month passed so quickly? It seemed only yesterday Annie had been trudging down the city sidewalks to her job at the hospital, wishing for the quietness of home, the simplicity of Christmas among her family.
Now Christmas waited—only two days away.
She busied herself with housework in the morning, and before lunch she put the finishing stitches into Leah and Adam’s gift.
Then a few moments before noon, Charity, Reba, and her mamm came home early—full of news about the school pageant, which would be the next evening, more rumors about the General Store, and excitement over the approaching holiday.
Reba dashed off to the barn as soon as she’d grabbed a piece of fruit out of the bowl on the table.
“By the way, Annie, someone dropped off a note for you today.” Charity smiled as she hung her coat on a peg near the door.
“A note for me?”
“Ya.” Rebekah teased. “I hope I didn’t leave it there. I thought I put it in my apron, but now I’m worried I lost it.”
“You didn’t lose it. I have it.” Charity smiled, held up the folded sheet of paper.
A Simple Amish Christmas Page 18
