Anna's Gift (7 page)

The house came in sight, and behind it the barns and sheds that housed his animals, wagons and machinery, all quickly becoming frosted in white snowflakes. As it was the Sabbath, no work was permitted by the
Ordnung,
but the chickens and ducks, the pigs, the horses and cows still had to be fed and watered, and there was still a night milking to do.

“It's thoughtful of you and of her.”

“It's the least I can do, seeing how much I loved your poor Frieda. You've been a widower too long, Samuel. People have been wondering why you haven't remarried. It's your duty to your children and to your community. There always seem to be more available girls than prospective husbands.”

“I thought maybe I was too old for her—that she'd want a younger man, someone closer to her own age.”

“Then you're wrong. The best marriages are those where the man is older and more settled in his ways. You can guide her both spiritually and in her daily re
sponsibilities. Young husbands are flighty, by my way of thinking. A proper husband needs to be the authority in the house.”

A small smile came to Samuel as he pondered who was the authority in the Coblentz house. He guided Smoky around to the back of the house. “Help your sisters out,” he ordered the boys.

“Oh, it's snow—snowing,” Lori Anne cried.

“Snow,” Mae echoed.

“Take the little ones inside,” Samuel said to Naomi. “The door's unlocked. And keep Mae away from the stove.” As the children hurried toward the house, Samuel turned to face Martha. “I want you to know that Anna and I were properly chaperoned when I was there painting. I'd do nothing to cast suspicion on her name or mine. Susanna and my children were with us all the time.”

“I'm glad to hear it. Rumors are easier to prevent than to erase, once they've begun. It behooves a man in your position to always be above criticism.”

He climbed down and helped Martha out of the buggy. Peter came to take hold of Smoky. “Unharness him and turn him into his stall,” Samuel said. “Then change your clothes before starting the chores.” He glanced around, half expecting to see Reuben's carriage. “You did say that Reuben was coming for you, didn't you?” he asked Martha.

“I wasn't sure how long our talk would take. He'll be along. I'll just make a pot of coffee and see to it that the girls are doing their evening chores. They need guidance as much as boys, you know. They've been too long without a mother's direction.”

“I suppose,” Samuel agreed. He took Martha's arm as they went up the steps to the open porch. “You can take off your boots inside,” he said. There was a utility room
just inside, with benches to sit on and hooks for winter coats and hats. “Just make yourself to home.”

Inside, the house was warm, and Lori Ann's tiger cat was pleased to see them. Purring, it curled around Martha's ankle as she pulled off first one wet boot and then the other. “Reuben doesn't hold with animals in the house,” she said. “Hair and dirt. Animals belong outside.”

“I'm afraid I spoil my children,” he admitted. “And the cat's a good mouser.” He pointed to a pair of Frieda's old slippers on the shelf. “You can put those on. Warmer on your feet than just stockings.” He excused himself to go and change into his barn clothes. Having Martha in the house felt a little awkward. He knew what a snoop she was, but she'd come to bring him the great news today, and he would never treat her unkindly. “Coffee's over the stove,” he called over his shoulder.

As he padded down the hall in his stocking feet, he could hear Martha giving sharp orders to his girls. There was a basket of laundry on the floor near the table, left there since yesterday. He wished he'd folded and put away those clothes last night. Martha would be sure to notice that and the breakfast dishes still standing in the sink. She was right, he supposed. He did need a helpmate. Soon he'd be ready for unexpected company anytime.

When he returned to the kitchen, he found the coffee pot simmering and his two older girls busy setting the table for a light supper before the children went to bed. Mae was under the table hugging the cat, and her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying. “What's wrong?” he asked, holding his arms out to her.

“She's wet her drawers,” Martha fussed. “A big girl like her, nearly four. She should know better. I told her to just sit a while in them and see how it felt.”

Samuel frowned. He'd changed his share of diapers
and wet underthings since Frieda died. Martha might know best. Such was usually women's business, but it didn't seem right to him, to punish a little girl for an accident. “She's still not settled in here yet,” he defended. “Accidents are bound to happen. Naomi, could you take your sister and see that she's dressed in dry clothing?”

Naomi nodded. “Come on, Mae,” she said, extending a hand. Sniffing, the little one crawled out, took hold of her sister and shuffled after her, out of the kitchen. Lori Ann stopped, mouth open, a plate in her hand and stared longingly at her sisters.

“What? You want to go with them?” Samuel asked. She nodded, and he took the plate and motioned her away. “Go on, then.”

Martha took down two mugs and set them on the counter with a loud thump. “You make their new mother's task no easier,” she said. “Spare the rod and spoil the child. My Dorcas will have her hands full.”

It was Samuel's turn to stare, gape-mouthed. “Dorcas? What has Dorcas to do with anything?”

Martha cleared her throat. “You're not usually so thick. Who do you think I've been talking about all the way from Roman's? My daughter, Dorcas, the girl you'll soon be walking out with.”

“Dorcas?” He shook his head. “But I didn't…” He dropped into a chair, suddenly feeling as if his head might burst. “There's some misunderstanding, Martha. I never intended to court your Dorcas.”

“Nonsense. Who else would you choose? She's unwed, nearly twenty-five, and has been brought up to know her duty.” She made a sound of disbelief. “Sometimes I think men are blind. Of course, Dorcas. She's exactly right for you, and now that I've brought it to your attention,
Reuben and I will expect you to begin making formal calls on her within the week.”

Rudy banged open the kitchen door. “Reuben's here, Dat. He says for Martha to hurry. Snow's getting worse, and he wants to get home before dark.”

“I didn't intend to court Dorcas,” Samuel repeated. Was it possible that he'd completely misunderstood? That it was Dorcas that Martha had come to speak for and not Anna? “Dorcas made the chicken pot pie for me?”

“I said so, didn't I?” Martha snapped. “Honestly, Samuel, I don't know what to think about you. You always seemed so sharp-witted to me, not a man that had to be hit over the head with a thing before he saw the right of it.” She followed Rudy out into the utility room, plopped down on a bench, and began to pull on her left boot as his son vanished through the outer door.

Samuel caught a whiff of something unpleasant, and Rudy's quick exit set off a warning alarm in his head. “Don't—” he began.

Martha jammed her foot into the boot and let out a scream. She leaped to her feet and began to hop on her right foot, yanking at the left boot. “What have they done?” she shrieked as she stared at her filthy black stocking and the unmistakable smell of wet cow manure permeated the room. “Monsters!” she accused. “Your sons are monsters!”

T
he following day, at four in the afternoon, Anna's mother, grandmother, great aunt and two younger sisters arrived in the hired van. Instantly, the house, which had been relatively quiet with only Anna, Miriam, Ruth and Susanna in the kitchen, rang with laughter and eager chatter. There was a great deal of hugging, stamping of snowy boots, exchanging of news, talk of the snowy roads and thankfulness that the long winter trip had been completed without mishap.

“We saw a terrible accident near Harrisburg,” Leah said as she squeezed Susanna for the third time. “A bus overturned.”

“There were police and ambulances,” Rebecca added. “But our driver spoke to one of the firemen who was directing traffic. He said that he didn't think anyone was killed. We prayed for them.”

Aunt Jezebel nodded. Anna hadn't seen her Grossmama's younger sister in years, but she didn't look a day older than the last time she'd visited Delaware, and she certainly didn't appear to be a woman in her sixties. She was small and neat with an Ohio-style
kapp,
a rose dress with long sleeves and cape, black stockings and black
lace-up, leather shoes. Aunt Jezebel's glasses were thin silver wire rims, which often slid down to perch on the tip of her small nose; and her hair, once red like Anna and her sisters', had faded to mousy-brown with silver streaks.

According to Mam, Aunt Jezebel wore only rose-colored dresses, never any other color, even on Church Sundays. She was shy and only spoke amid close family, and then as quiet as a mouse's squeak. Anna didn't believe that Aunt Jezebel was touched, as some people whispered, no matter how odd some of her habits were.

Johanna had once confided that Aunt Jezebel had been courted by a boy from Lancaster when she was seventeen. Her parents had felt that Jezebel was too young to marry and had refused to agree to the match until her next birthday. She had waited patiently, but on the day of her wedding, her bridegroom never arrived and no one ever saw him again. What happened to him was a mystery; some people thought he'd run away to become English, others suspected something worse had befallen him. Regardless, Jezebel never recovered from the shock, and had remained single all these years. Anna thought it all very tragic and romantic.

Now, amid the noisy welcome, Aunt Jezebel perched on a chair in the corner of the room like a small rose-colored sparrow. She watched Grossmama, Mam, and Anna and her sisters with bright blue eyes, waiting for someone to tell her what to do next. Aunt Jezebel would do anything you asked of her, and she was a tireless worker, but she never seemed capable of deciding what needed to be done on her own. Usually, it was Grossmama who gave the orders, and Aunt Jezebel carried them out with quiet efficiency.

“It's cold in here.” Grossmama, a tall, imposing
woman with big hands and a stern countenance, made a great show of sniffing loudly. “I knew that we should have waited for spring. I took a chill in the van and my neck hurts. The driver put on her brakes so hard when we stopped at that Englisher food-fast for lunch that I twisted it.” She rubbed her back and glared at Mam. “You should have packed more sandwiches. That chicken was tough—and expensive. Three dollars for a little dry chicken on bread. Ridiculous.” She rapped her cane on the floor. “Jezebel. Find my shawl.”

“Here it is, Grossmama,” Leah said, draping a black wool shawl around the old woman's bony shoulders.

Grossmama picked at the weave of the shawl. “Not this one. It itches. Jezebel! Where's my gray shawl?”

Behind Hannah's back, Rebecca grimaced and rolled her eyes for Anna's benefit.
It's starting already,
Anna thought. Their grandmother was nothing, if not consistent. Nothing ever pleased her, least of all their mother.

“I'll fetch it, sister,” Aunt Jezebel said obediently. She hurried across the room to sort through a large, old-fashioned zippered bag. “Here.” Removing the offending black shawl, Aunt Jezebel placed another around her sister's shoulders, a wrap that appeared to Anna to be identical to the first, other than its color. Aunt Jezebel folded the black shawl neatly and tucked it into the bag, carrying the satchel back to her chair and standing it by her feet before taking her seat again.

“My stomach isn't right,” Grossmama proclaimed. “Is there any clear broth?” She peered at the clean white tablecloth, as if hoping to find a stain.

“I made chicken soup,” Anna said. “I remembered that soup was always easy on your stomach when you were unwell. It's on the back of the stove. Shall I dip some out for you?”

“Chicken soup? Does it have noodles?”

Anna nodded. “Egg noodles.”

“Are they store-bought? Store noodles give you worms. They have bugs in them. I never eat store noodles.” She turned her gaze on Susanna. “The Englishers put bugs in them.”

“Ne.”
Susanna shook her head. “Anna rolled the noodles. I cut them.” She beamed.

Grossmama nodded. “Well, at least someone is thinking of my health.” She patted Susanna's chubby hand. “
Danke,
Susanna. You should've come to Ohio, instead of those two.” She waved a hand at Leah and Rebecca. “Silly as hens, both of them. Fancy girls. Trying to act English. Take after you, Hannah.”

“Now, Lovina,” Hannah soothed. “I'm sure that Rebecca and Leah did their best to help you.” Mam never called Grossmama mother, always by her name. Grossmama had insisted on it years ago, when Mam had wed Dat. She'd said pointedly that Mam was not a daughter, but a daughter-in-law, and that she shouldn't be pretending blood kinship where there wasn't any.

“Hmmp,” Grossmama grunted. “That one.” She indicated Leah with a bob of her chin. “She's not Plain. She draws boys like flies to honey. Comes of you giving her such an outlandish name—an Englisher name.”

“You're tired,” Hannah said, ignoring the last remarks.

Anna knew that there was no sense in Mam pointing out to Grossmama that “Leah” was from the Bible, and that it wasn't her fault that she'd been born beautiful. It was true; everyone noticed how pretty Leah was, and boys especially noticed. Leah's picnic baskets had always been the first one auctioned off at community fundraisers, and had usually brought in the most money.

Secretly, Anna had wondered if her sister had gotten
both of their shares of looks. Not that she was jealous of Leah. She wasn't. Leah was her sister, and she loved her. God had made Leah as she was, as God had made her, and their grandmother was wrong to accuse Leah of trying to be English because she had a pretty face. Dat always said that Grossmama was hard on Leah because she'd been a notoriously Plain child and a Plain woman. It had been the Lord's will that Anna take after Dat's side of the family and not Mam's.

“And I want those little crackers, the ones with no salt,” Grossmama said. “Salt will kill you.”

Anna looked at Rebecca, who shrugged. “Water crackers, I think,” her sister said. “We bought them from the big supermarket in town…in Ohio. I've never seen them here.”

“I should never have come,” Grossmama whined. “Jezey, didn't I tell you we should never have come? I don't like Delaware. I never have. I'm going home tomorrow.”

“She needs…she needs her rest, I think,” Aunt Jezebel whispered to Anna. “Such a long trip is hard on her, and her arthritis pains her.”

“Exactly right,” said Mam, who had excellent hearing. She glanced at Ruth. “If you and Miriam could get her into bed, I'll have Susanna bring her the chicken noodle soup and some of those sweet white peaches we canned last August.”

Grossmama headed toward the back door and Ruth took her shoulders, gently turning her in the right direction. “This way to the bedrooms, Grossmama.”

“I know which way,” Grossmama insisted. “And I don't want chicken soup. Bring me toast with honey. And herb tea. Blackberry. And some meat. Scrapple. I don't suppose you have any decent scrapple. Jonas likes it
crispy with ketchup. You never could get the recipe right, Hannah. You were hopeless when it came to scrapple. Jonas always says so.” She narrowed her eyes and looked around. “Where is he? Why isn't he here?”

Mam sighed. “Jonas is in the barn, Lovina. Milking the cows.”

“Ne,”
Susanna said. “Dat's not in the barn. He's—”

“In God's hands, as always,” Mam interrupted. “You'll see him later.” She gestured to Ruth and Miriam, and they led Grossmama out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the newly painted bedroom.

Anna could hear Grossmama fussing. “Jonas likes his scrapple just so. The way I make it. Hannah…”

“But Dat isn't milking the cows,” Susanna protested. “He's in…in—”

“He's in heaven,” Anna said. “But Grossmama forgets.”

Susanna looked puzzled.

“Dat was her son,” Mam explained. “And your grossmama is old. It's all right if she pretends that your father is alive. You don't want her to be sad, do you, Susanna?”

“Ne.”

“Sometimes she remembers,” Aunt Jezebel whispered. “And then Lovina cries and cries.” She got to her feet to follow the others to the bedroom and nearly tripped over Grossmama's bag. She gave a little yip, turned around three times, sat down and got up again. Anna knew that was one of Aunt Jezebel's odd habits, and everyone but Susanna pretended not to notice as she hurried out of the kitchen after her older sister.

Anna glanced at Rebecca, who just shrugged. It was simply Aunt Jezebel's way, and they'd all have to get used to it.

Hannah hugged Anna and Susanna again. “I've missed
you all terribly. How is everything? Did the school have to close for snow?”

“Just the one day,” Anna answered. “Has Grossmama been like that for the whole trip?”

Hannah chuckled. “Worse. But it must be difficult for her, having to leave her home, not knowing if she'll ever return. And your grossmama has many aches and pains. You must all do your best to welcome her and make her feel wanted.”

Mam accepted a mug of coffee from Susanna and settled into a chair at the table. “I've had enough traveling for a while. I can tell you that. And I was gone less than a week. I don't know how Leah and Rebecca managed for so long without being homesick.”

“We were,” Leah said, coming to sit beside her mother. “We missed all of you terribly.”

“Me too?” Susanna asked.

“You most of all,” Leah assured her.

“You're lucky you got that one home,” Rebecca teased, indicating her sister. “There were four boys who wanted to marry her.”

Leah smiled, making her beautiful face as rosy as an angel. “Not four boys,” she corrected. “Two boys and two men.”

“One was fifty,” Rebecca confided. “Can you believe it? He had a long, scraggly beard and he chewed tobacco.” She wrinkled her nose. “Yuck.”

“I'm not getting married for years and years,” Leah said. “I've missed you all too much. And I wouldn't want to be so far away. When I marry, I'll pick someone from Kent County, so we can still come for Anna's dinners.”

Four suitors,
Anna mused. And Leah wouldn't be twenty-one for two months. “I cooked enough for a
crowd,” she said to her mother. “I imagine Johanna will be over with the children as soon as she hears—”

Irwin opened the kitchen door and Jeremiah ran in. The little dog barked and ran in circles before darting under the table. “Company,” Irwin announced. He grabbed a biscuit off the tray on the gas stove and left the kitchen so fast that he didn't stop to take off his heavy denim jacket.

“Johanna?” Mam asked. Her question was answered as Aunt Martha and Dorcas appeared in the doorway. “Come in.” Mam rose to her feet. “It's good to see you.”

“My duty.” Martha shed her coat and the scarf she wore over her
kapp.
“What with Mother arriving.” She handed the coat to Dorcas. “Do something with this.”

“Ruth and Miriam are getting her into bed,” Hannah said. “We fixed up the room across from mine for her and Aunt Jezebel. You can go in and see her if you like.”

Aunt Martha turned her scorching gaze on Leah. “You're not wearing paint, are you? Your cheeks look awfully red.”

Rebecca smiled. “No, Aunt Martha. Leah's cheeks are red from the cold. And it's good to see both of you, too.”

“Hmmph.” Aunt Martha looked pointedly at the coffee pot.

Anna caught the strong scent of bleach. Aunt Martha always smelled of bleach; and when she was small, Anna had wondered if she bathed in it every night. She hurried to pour her aunt and Dorcas a cup. “Two sugars, Aunt Martha?” she asked. “And milk?”

“Cream. I always use cream. It's good for my stomach condition.”

“No cream or sugar for me,” Dorcas said. “Just the coffee.”

“Thin as you are, a little sugar and cream would do
you good,” Aunt Martha said as she took Dat's seat at the head of the table. “I'll give Mother a chance to get into bed. Too much excitement isn't good for a woman her age.”

“I hope Reuben is well,” Hannah said.

“Toothache. Been bothering him all week. He's in the carriage. No sense in him coming in. We're not staying,” Aunt Martha said in her piercing nasal voice. “Just doing my duty as a daughter. Mother and I will have lots of time to visit, and I don't want to tire her on her first day home.”

“Maybe I should—” Anna began.

“
Ne.
You stay right where you are. It's only fair that you hear what I have to say. I don't like to drop this on you when you've hardly caught your breath, Hannah. But you have a right to know.”

Mam sighed. “
Ya,
Martha. What is it I should know? Miriam hasn't been riding motor scooters again, has she?”

Susanna's eyes grew huge. “Miriam has a scooter?”