Anna's Gift (16 page)

Still, he felt a little foolish.

Was this how it would be, once they were married? Would she challenge his authority in the household? Frieda never would have. What was he getting himself into?

Unconsciously, Johanna's husband's words came back into his mind.
“Hannah's too liberal. She's spoiled her girls. They don't know their place.”

A man had to be the head of the house. It was the way he'd been raised and what he believed. A wife should heed her husband's advice. And he'd made it quite clear to Anna that he didn't think that sending her grandmother to the English was a good idea. Yet, she'd gone and asked the bishop herself. It stuck in his craw like a fish bone.

Anna had always seemed so sweet and easygoing. Had he misjudged her? Yet, Anna hadn't challenged him or argued. She'd simply persisted, and apparently made a good case to the bishop, good enough to get his approval. Samuel wished Reuben and Martha hadn't heard it all. It would be common knowledge in the community by tomorrow. It would be a long time before his neighbors quit calling him “stick-in-the-mud”.

By the time Samuel had finished the evening milking, sent the hired man on his way and tucked Mae and Lori Ann into bed, the worst of his annoyance had passed. Anna was, after all, very young. He loved her, and this was something they could work out. She just had to understand that she had put him in a bad position, going over his head and not telling him. It was natural that a couple have some disagreements, and this would be easily mended.

She must have known that he was unhappy. He'd seen the distress in her eyes when he'd said his goodbyes and left her mother's house. Doubtless, Anna was already regretting her hasty decision to go to the bishop after Samuel had been clear in his opinion on the whole matter.

Samuel knew he didn't have it in him to be harsh with Anna, but it would be best if he nipped this misguided
independence early on. He'd stay away from the Yoder house for a few days. When he didn't come she'd know why, and she'd quickly seek him out to make things right between them.

As much as he enjoyed being with Anna, and as much as it would hurt him not to be with her, he'd have to be firm. She had to remember that he was a church deacon, that he had to set an example for other members of the community. And Anna, as his wife, would have to do likewise. It wouldn't do to have the deacon's wife running about the county, going against her husband's wishes and making him look bad.

By Saturday's school program and cookie auction next weekend, they'd both be laughing about this incident. Anna would have learned from her mistake, and nothing like this would ever happen again.

S
amuel didn't come to visit on Monday or Tuesday, and he didn't come on Wednesday or Thursday, although his hired man stopped by in the afternoon to bring ten pounds of bacon, a fresh loin of pork, fifty pounds of potatoes and two blocks of scrapple. Leah stowed the gifts in the refrigerator as Anna continued rolling out dough for Saturday's cookie bake. “Wonder why Samuel didn't bring them himself?” Leah asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

Anna chuckled. “You know why. You saw him on Sunday afternoon, when Bishop Atlee called him a stick-in-the-mud. Samuel Mast's nose is out of joint because I persuaded the bishop to let Grossmama go to the English center.”

Leah grinned. “You've hurt his manly feelings, Anna.”

“All I did was check with the bishop myself,” Anna replied, choosing a cookie cutter in the shape of a cow, and beginning to cut out cookies and slide them onto a baking sheet.

“You think he's angry with you for doing that?”

Anna shrugged. “I think his pride is a little bruised that I didn't take his word on the matter.”

Leah brought a second cookie sheet to the table. “What if he's still upset by Saturday—what if he doesn't bid on your basket?”

“Then I'll give the cookies to the children. It was right that Grossmama got to go. She might not like the senior center once she's there, but that's up to her.” Anna slapped another lump of dough on the floured board and began to roll it out with a wooden rolling pin that her father had made for her mother when they were first married. “If Samuel wants to marry me, he should know who I am. I don't have Miriam's temper or your courage out in the world, but I won't be quiet when I think I'm right. Even if I wasn't right and the bishop had said no, at least then I would know I had tried my best. I don't think Samuel would have been so annoyed if the bishop had said no.”

“I think you're right,” Aunt Jezebel said as she came into the kitchen. “You know, that's what I always admired most about your mother. She was a good wife to your father, but she never let him get too big for his britches.” Her face flushed a delicate pink. “I didn't mean to listen in, but Lovina fell asleep, and I thought I'd come to give you a hand with the cookie baking.”

Anna smiled at the little woman. “We can use your help,” she said. “You always made the best black walnut cookies, and Irwin cracked and hulled two cupfuls of nuts from the big tree at the end of the garden last night.”

Aunt Jezebel hesitated before coming to hug Anna. “It was a brave thing you did, speaking to your bishop. A kind thing for Lovina. It will make her feel useful. Better for her to be out among people, sewing her rugs,
than always sitting in your kitchen finding fault. I think she will be happier.”

“So you don't think I was wrong to go to the bishop?” Anna asked.

Her aunt dusted a bit of flour off Anna's chin. “
Ne,
love, I don't. And I think your young man will see that, once he's had time to cool down.”

“I wouldn't want him to think I was forward,” Anna said. “To go against his wishes… A man should be the head of the house.”

“And the woman the heart.” Aunt Jezebel looked into Anna's eyes. “He's a fool if he lets you slip away. You will make Samuel Mast and his motherless children happy.”

“You really think so?” Anna asked.

Her aunt pursed her lips. “What do you see when you look at your Grossmama? Do you see her wrinkles or her thinning hair?”

Anna shook her head. “I see her like she was when I was a child. She always walked so straight, and her bonnet and apron were so stiff they crinkled when she walked. I thought she was wonderfully Plain.”

Aunt Jezebel smiled. “You really love my sister, don't you?”

“Ya,”
Anna said. “I do. She can be grouchy, but inside I know she wants to be kind.”

“You see Lovina that way because you have love in your heart for her. Many a fair face hides a sour disposition. You are beautiful inside, Anna. And if your Samuel can't see that, he doesn't deserve you.”

“I agree,” Leah slid a pan of cookies into the oven. “You always think of other people before you think of yourself. Besides, if you don't say yes, Samuel might
be desperate enough to end up with Dorcas. And she wouldn't be able to manage those five kids—not to mention her biscuits.” Leah giggled. “The last batch she made were so awful, Aunt Martha said the chickens wouldn't even eat them.”

 

Saturday evening finally arrived, and containers of food and baskets of cookies had been stowed in the back of the big Yoder buggy. Irwin, Leah and Rebecca had walked over to Samuel's to help make last minute preparations for the get-together. Miriam and Charley invited Susanna to ride with them, leaving Mam, Anna, Aunt Jezebel and Grossmama to take the family buggy.

Anna had been looking forward to parents' night and the cookie auction as much as anyone, but not hearing from Samuel all week had made her nervous. She wanted him to outbid everyone for her basket, and she wanted to see his children recite their pieces, take part in the spelling bee and show what they had learned this term in class. Most of all, she wanted to sit on a blanket in the barn with Samuel and the other unmarried couples, and share laughter, as well as the contents of her picnic.

She'd been so worried that she wondered if she should walk over to Samuel's house and tell him that she was sorry. Mam had put an end to that idea.

“Are you sorry that your Grossmama is going next week in the red van?” Mam had asked. “If you had it to do over again, would you still take your case to Bishop Atlee?”

Anna had nodded slowly. “I suppose I would.”

“Exactly,” Mam said. “So if there's any apologizing to be done, it should be Samuel Mast who does it, not you.”

Anna hadn't gone to Samuel, but neither had she slept much last night. What if he was still angry with
her? What if he ignored her and bid on some other girl's basket? What if he wouldn't speak to her? Before, when she was resigned to being unmarried, she'd come to accept it. But Samuel's courting had opened up a whole armful of wanting. If she lost him forever, she didn't think she could bear it.

She looked at the clock for the third time in the last thirty minutes. “We'd best be going, hadn't we?” she asked.

Mam smiled at her. “It's early yet, but it won't hurt. Find Grossmama's black bonnet and help her into her heavy cape.”

“I'm sick,” Grossmama whimpered when Anna went to her room to find her. The old woman lay on her bed, her face pale, eyes fluttering weakly. “I'm having a dizzy spell. I tripped and…”

“Oh, Grossmama, did you hurt yourself? Why didn't you call us?” Anna ran to her and laid a palm on her forehead. Her grandmother's skin felt cool to the touch, but a fall could have injured her bad hip again. “Mam!” she shouted. “Come here.” Anna poured water from the bedside pitcher into a glass. “Would you like a drink?”

“
Ne.
My head hurts. Let me lie here and try to sleep.”

“I hate to have you miss the evening. Aunt Martha and Aunt Alma will be there.”

“I couldn't go out on such a cold night. It will be the death of me. You all go to your frolic. Don't worry about me.”

After her mother and Aunt Jezebel had joined Anna at Lovina's bedside, the three withdrew to the kitchen. “What do you think?” Mam asked Jezebel. “Is she really ill?” She glanced at the clock. “As much as I'd like to, I can't stay with her. The children and their families will
be arriving soon at the gathering. As their teacher, I need to be there.”

“Anna!” Grossmama called in a surprisingly strong voice. “Bring me a cup of chamomile tea.”

Aunt Jezebel sighed. “I'll stay. I don't know whether this is real or not. She always says she's dizzy or sick when she doesn't want to go somewhere or do something. You and Anna go on.” Anna could see the disappointment on her aunt's face. She loved getting out of the house and visiting with other women in the community, and she loved watching the children recite.

“Anna!” Grossmama called. “I need you.”

The sound of a glass shattering brought Aunt Jezebel to her feet. “Let me go in to her,” she insisted. “I can usually calm her when she has one of her spells.”

But Grossmama would have none of it, and fifteen minutes later, when the buggy rolled out of the yard, it was Mam and Aunt Jezebel who were going to the parents' night program, and Anna who was sweeping up the last of the broken glass. She'd forced a smile and insisted that she didn't mind, but inside she wanted to weep. She'd wanted so badly to be with Samuel tonight, and now she wouldn't have the chance to make everything right with him. And even if they patched up their disagreement later, tonight would be gone forever.

“Anna!” Grossmama called shrilly as Anna carried the broken glass to the kitchen trashcan. “Where's my tea?”

Anna sighed and turned to the cupboard. She took down the can of chamomile tea and carried it to the counter. Maybe it was best that she didn't go tonight, she thought. That way, if Samuel was still angry with her, she wouldn't be embarrassed in front of everyone. Besides, if she'd left her grandmother and the woman really had been ill, she'd never forgive herself.

 

An hour later, Grossmama's dizziness seemed to have passed, and she felt well enough to have a bowl of chicken soup, some applesauce and three oatmeal cookies leftover from the bounty that had been baked for the school program. “You're a good girl,” her grandmother said, patting Anna's hand. “You're the only one who cares about me.”

“That's not true,” Anna replied. “Lots of people love you. Mam and Aunt Jezebel, my sisters, and…”

“Not like you,” Grossmama insisted. “You're the only one who listened to me when I said I wanted to go to the Englisher center. Everyone else thinks I'm a crazy old lady…just because I get confused…forget things. You will, too, when you're my age.”

Anna patted her hand. “I don't think you're crazy, and neither does Mam.”

“And…” Tears welled in the elderly woman's faded blue eyes. “Because sometimes I make believe my Jonas is alive…when I know he's not.”

Anna fought tears, her heart touched by her grandmother's revelation. “I can't imagine how hard it must be to have lost so many people you love. But…” She took a deep breath and said what she'd wanted to say since Grossmama had first come to stay with them. “You should try to be kinder to those who love you—to Mam, especially. She does her best to care for you and…and you…” She couldn't say more. Reverence for the elderly was too ingrained in her. It wasn't her place to lecture her grandmother, but it was so difficult to see her and Mam always at odds.

There was a long pause, and then her grandmother nodded. “
Ya, ya,
I know. Hannah is more of a daughter
to me than my own blood daughters, but it isn't easy to live in a daughter-in-law's house.”

“It's Dat's house, too. Your son's house.”

Grossmama's mouth tightened. “And how much do I see him? He's always in the barn. Those cows must be milked dry.”

Anna blinked. A moment ago her grandmother had said that she knew Dat was dead, but now… Was she pretending now, or had the fog closed in on her mind again? “Mam wants you here,” she said. “We all do.”

“I suppose I can try harder.” Grossmama yawned. “For Jonas's sake, not Hannah's.”

Anna leaned close and pulled the quilt up around the old woman's shoulders. “Sleep for a little while. I'm sure it will make you feel better.”

“Don't leave me. I don't want to be alone in this big house.”

“I won't leave the house. I'll be right in the kitchen.”

“If Jonas comes in, tell him I want to talk to him.” Her grandmother closed her eyes. Soon her breathing grew heavy. The lines in her face relaxed and she began to snore. Anna rose and quietly left the room.

In the kitchen, she washed the cup and dishes that Grossmama had eaten from and lit a gas lamp. Carefully, she carried it into the parlor and set it on the wide windowsill, taking care to tuck the curtain away from the glass chimney. “To bring you all safely home,” she whispered.

The children's program would be over by now, and the bidding on the cookie baskets would be next. She wondered how Naomi had done in the spelling bee. Her spelling was quite good, but Anna wasn't sure if it was good enough to win against children who were several grades ahead of her. She'd wanted to be there for Naomi
and for the twins as well. Anna hoped the talk she'd had with them in Samuel's hayloft would help. She didn't worry about the two younger girls. Susanna and Rebecca would watch over them and see they didn't miss out on anything, but Naomi could sometimes be shy around the other children in the community. It was easy for her to be overlooked. Anna should have reminded Aunt Jezebel to be sure that Naomi didn't feel neglected.

Anna glanced in on her grandmother, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Maybe the hectic evening and the cold night air
would
have been too much for her.

She returned to the kitchen and looked around to see if anything needed doing. The others wouldn't be home for more than an hour. It was too early for her to go to bed, and she wasn't in the mood for sewing. She took Dat's old barn coat off the hook and stepped out onto the back porch. Everything was still beneath the full, silver moon; not a sound came from the barn or the chicken house.

“Oh, Samuel,” she murmured into the darkness. “I wanted to be with you tonight.” Salt tears stung the backs of her eyelids and she blinked them away.

And then, just as she'd turned to go back into the house, she heard the faint sound of a horse's hooves on the frozen dirt lane.
Clippity-clop. Clippity-clop.