Second Chances (6 page)

“
Mayhaps
people might talk,” Lydia suggested to Elizabeth as she wrapped their mother's
fine china with newspaper and packaged it into a cardboard box. While the Coblentzes
would live in the house and William had agreed for it to be furnished, there were
some valuables that he insisted be packed away. The three women were packaging up
and cleaning the kitchen, William too concerned that leaving the house anything
less than pristine might be cause for gossip. “It's not sensible for such a newly
widowed woman to travel such a distance.”

From the look on her face, Elizabeth did not agree. “Why ever not?”

“I think Lydia means,” Anna said softly, “that it's not sensible for Martha to travel
with
Daed
,
ja
?”

Lydia lifted an eyebrow as she placed a piece of wrapped china into the box. She
remained silent and said nothing in response to Anna's comment.

Elizabeth, however, clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Always the one that focused
on maintaining appearances, despite the Amish culture's emphasis on being plain,
Elizabeth took great satisfaction that her reputation remained untarnished and above
reproach. The idea that anyone might question her judgment (for certainly it would
reflect on
her
in the long run) horrified Elizabeth. After taking a few seconds to
compose herself, she frowned as she sharply chastised her sister. “Don't be
verrickt
,
Anna!”

Lowering her eyes, Anna flushed under the disparaging scoff from Elizabeth. While
she knew that she should be used to such reprimands and usually remained unaffected
by them, this one stung more than usual.

“Anna's not crazy,” Lydia replied, her voice calm and level as she jumped to Anna's
defense. “Martha has been widowed for nine months now, Elizabeth. You know how that
Amish grapevine works. Tongues are bound to wag.”

Anna admired the older woman's
ability to always sound calm and collected. Dealing with her sisters and her father
could rattle even the most stoic of people, she thought.

“She is traveling with me,” Elizabeth said forcefully. “Accompanying me. Not
Daed
.
Why would anyone give that matter a second thought?”

Lydia was quick to respond. “Your
daed
is hardly immune to the thought of remarriage.”

At this comment, Elizabeth scoffed. “If he hasn't married yet,” she said, “why would
he now? Besides, Martha is a right
gut
friend to me, but certainly can be of no interest
to
Daed
! While she has a righteous heart and good intentions, she knows no scripture
and is far too used to working outdoors. Her skin is dark like leather and she lost
her bottom front teeth when the mule knocked her into the fence post!”

Anna stopped wiping down the cabinet next to the sink and laughed, a soft sound that
hinted, just slightly, at repayment for the previous reproach by Elizabeth. “I should
think the former two characteristics could far outweigh the latter! Who knows but
she might learn how to please
Daed
.”

“Oh, Anna!” Unlike Lydia, the unspoken matriarch of the family ever since their mother
had died, Elizabeth was not one who easily hid her displeasure or her inability to
accept criticism. “You know what I mean! Besides, their age difference alone is far
too great! He could practically
be her father!” Shaking her head, Elizabeth scoffed
once again at such a proposal. “Ridiculous, Anna. I simply will not entertain another
word of this conversation!”

Anna returned her attention to the counter, too aware that Elizabeth would not easily
relinquish her place as one of the two women of influence in her father's life. She
had acquired the role by regrettable chance, yet she was determined to maintain it
by resolute choice. As far as Elizabeth was concerned, no one in the community would
dare question her reputation, and therefore, Martha's presence was purely just companionship
and shame on anyone who might think otherwise. In Elizabeth's eyes, her own spotless
reputation would eliminate anyone's need to gossip or speculate about the situation.

And Anna had learned long ago that what Elizabeth wanted from her father, she usually
received.

By mid-September, with George and Sara Coblentz expected to arrive any day, William
and Elizabeth departed with Martha accompanying them. Their personal belongings
packaged in boxes and stored in the attic, William and his oldest daughter clambered
into the hired van for the long journey down to Florida. There hadn't been much fanfare
in the community about their departure. Despite her father's worries, Anna knew that
it wasn't uncommon for older Amish couples to spend colder seasons in the Amish and
Mennonite community of Pinecraft, Florida. As for the renting of the house, William's
explanation was accepted by all, even if he did tend to speak far too often (and
too long) about his reasons for leaving.

Anna, however, stayed behind. She stood in the darkness of the early morning hours,
a black shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she watched the van pull
out
of their driveway, the red taillights casting a soft glow in the darkness. She noticed
that neither her father nor her sister looked back to grace her with a final wave
before disappearing down the road. Instead, Anna was left standing in the empty driveway,
shivering in the cold and knowing that she wouldn't see them for almost a year. For
her, their absence would be felt; for them, her absence would be nothing but an afterthought.

Minutes after the van disappeared, Anna continued standing there, alone and cold,
thinking only of her own mixed feelings. While she agreed that the move was the best
solution for her father's dilemma, she found herself fighting the urge to resent
the state of affairs that he had created for the family. If only he had been more
thrifty, they could have stayed in their own home. Instead of packing away their
mother's china, Elizabeth and Anna would have spent the past week canning food for
use over the winter months. Now the pantry shelves remained empty, waiting for Sara
Coblentz to fill them.

Shivering in the cold, Anna headed back into the house. Since the decision had been
made to rent the house, she had given thought about God and His plans for the Eicher
family. Certainly there were reasons for everything, and she knew better than to
ask the simple question “why?” Asking wouldn't change the fact that her father, eldest
sister, and her sister's widowed friend were to stay, temporarily, in Pinecraft,
Florida, while the remaining two daughters would stay in Sugarcreek, Ohio. Besides
the Florida house being too small for more people, Anna much preferred to stay behind,
even if it meant moving to Mary's.

After all, her sister needed Anna's help.

“I simply cannot do without Anna,” Mary had insisted, all but stomping her bare feet
in the dust of the worn path by the porch when the plans for William's departure
had been discussed and solidified. “You both know I have those headaches, especially
when the trees begin to change. Tree mold. And I'm so tired of late!”

As usual, she had won her argument.
A squeaky wheel always gets oiled
, Anna thought
when Mary became, once again, victorious in her request . . .
nee
, demand! . . .
for Anna to remain behind in order to help her with the
kinner
. In truth, she didn't
mind. She loved her nephews, little Cris Junior and Walter. While loud and rambunctious,
they showered her with attention and affection that warmed her heart. She didn't
even mind bathing them each evening before tucking them into their shared bed.

Two days after William and Elizabeth departed, Anna made the sixteen-mile journey
from Charm to Sugarcreek. Now she stood at the counter of Mary's kitchen kneading
bread while her sister sat at the kitchen table, half-heartedly darning one of her
husband's socks. From her sister's repeated sighing and fidgeting, Anna knew that
something was on her mind. Time alone would provide insight into the cause.

Outside the window that faced the road, just a mere twenty yards from the house,
a horse and buggy passed. Anna glanced out the open window, squinting to see if she
recognized the driver. An older man lifted his hand and waved to her and she responded
in kind, even though she wasn't certain who it was.

As soon as the rhythmical sound of the horse's hooves faded into the distance, Mary
began her routine of sighing until, unable to remain silent anymore, she began.

“I'm rather embarrassed for Salome Musser,” Mary said, yanking at the string as she
pulled it through the loops of the sock. She had pushed a worn tennis ball to the
heel in order to close the hole, but her stitches were too tight and the thread broke.
“Oh, bother!” Tossing both the sock and the needle onto the table, she sighed and
rubbed at her temples.

“Another headache, Mary?”

With a dismissive wave, Mary didn't answer the question. “Why, they should've invited
you over for a meal, or if that is too much trouble, a visit after supper, then!”

“It's fine, Mary. Truly it is.” And she meant it. She knew how busy people were during
this season. After all, it was time to cut down the garden, prepare the final canned
goods for winter, and make preparations for the upcoming autumn baptism and communion
services. Anna loved this time of year, knowing that, shortly after those two important
gatherings, wedding banns would begin to be announced after Sunday worship. And,
from the way that the Amish grapevine talked, it promised to be a very busy wedding
season.

Mary, however, seemed intent on lamenting the affront. “Are they expecting us to
walk over there? That just seems quite prideful, I must say!”

“I see them at worship, Mary,” Anna said, maintaining her typical cheerful nature.
Plopping the kneaded dough into a lightly floured bowl, she covered it with a cloth.
It would take some time to rise. In the meantime, she could join her sister at the
table. “It's not as though we are strangers.” As she sat, she reached out to gently
claim the abandoned sock, knowing full well that it would never get darned if she
didn't do so.

That wasn't good enough for Mary.

“They know I haven't been feeling well,” she said. “You would think that Leah or
Hannah would come check on me, even if their
maem
won't!”

Not prone to speaking ill of anyone, Anna concentrated on mending the sock and kept
her silence on that statement.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the gentle ticking of the clock
on the wall, a gift from Cris when he became engaged to Mary. Their courtship had
been brief and tarnished only by the knowledge that the clock was intended for another,
a fact that Anna never once discussed with Mary. While the entire family knew of
Cris's initial interest in Anna, Mary hadn't seemed to care. She was the first of
the sisters to secure a husband, and that joy far outweighed her awareness of being
the groom's second choice. After all, Mary once whispered to Elizabeth when she thought
Anna was in the other room, Cris Musser had the best reputation (and largest farm)
in Sugarcreek, Ohio. “I reckon it doesn't matter which Eicher
dochder
secures such
a marriage!”

Anna had pretended not to overhear, masking her disappointment in her sister's statement
by retreating outside to weed the flower garden in front of the porch. Long ago,
she had learned to quietly retreat from the private affronts to others that were
so often verbalized within the four walls of the Eicher home. Tending the garden
had become one of the simple ways for Anna to quietly remove herself from unpleasant
confrontations. If only her sisters knew that Mary's indifference to
being
a second
choice contrasted greatly with Anna's decision to not
marry
her
second choice. Only
her sense of respect for Cris and propriety for herself kept her from disclosing
the truth.

Truth be told, the marriage of her younger sister to her former suitor, no matter
how briefly he had called upon her or offered her rides home from youth singings,
brought joy to Anna's heart. She never once looked upon their union with anything
less than satisfaction for both her sister and for Cris Musser. While Anna knew her
future happiness disappeared when she broke off her engagement to Freman, she never
would want to wish her sad fate on another. Cris was, after all, a good (if a little
unexciting) man with a godly reputation. She took pleasure in his ability to harbor
no ill-will toward her for rebuffing his attempts at courtship. And, as she quickly
learned, he certainly demonstrated an endless amount of patience when dealing with
his young and sometimes overbearing wife.

“Where are those
kinner
anyway?” Mary said sharply, standing up to walk to the back
window and peer outside. The main house, the older farmstead, sat a bit farther back
from the road. One day, Mary and Cris would move into it to raise their family. However,
Cris's mother did not seem in a great hurry to vacate it for the smaller house, the
one occupied by her only surviving son and his family, a dwelling that sat closer
to the road.

Finishing her mending, Anna lifted the needle and thread to her mouth and snipped
it free with her teeth. Satisfied, she folded the sock and set it on the table. “They're
visiting with their
grossmammi
, probably having a
wunderbarr
time!”

“And being fed endless numbers of sugar cookies, no doubt!” Instead of returning
to the table, Mary sank down onto the sofa, stretching out with her hand upon her
forehead. “I can hear the noise now. Running and romping through the kitchen, all
worked up before supper.”