Читать книгу Anna's Gift - Emma Miller - Страница 11

Careful not to disturb her sleeping sister, Anna crept from her bed in the gray light of early dawn, and hurriedly dressed. Sometime after midnight, Susanna had left her own bed and slipped under the blankets with Anna, complaining that she was cold. Anna thought it more likely that she was missing Mam and hadn’t become accustomed to sleeping in the room over the kitchen yet. In any case, Anna hadn’t the heart to turn Susanna away, and she’d spent the rest of the night trying to keep Susanna from hogging all the covers.

The house was quiet. Usually, even at this hour, Mam would be bustling around downstairs, one of Anna’s sisters would be snoring and someone would be banging on Irwin’s door, calling him to get up for milking. When Anna went to a window and pulled back the shade, she understood the silence that went beyond an empty house. The ground was covered with snow, and large flakes were coming down so thickly that she could barely make out the apple trees in the orchard.

Snow … Anna smiled. Delaware rarely saw snowfalls more than just dustings, but this year had been colder than normal. She wondered if Johanna would cancel school. Her oldest sister had offered to fill in for Mam while she was in Ohio, but not many parents would send their children out to walk to school on such a morning.

Anna smiled as she padded down the hall to the bathroom in her stocking feet. Although she loved her big family dearly, it was nice to have the house quiet and not have to wait to brush her teeth or to get into the shower. And it was better yet to be able to think about everything that had happened yesterday and remember all the details of Samuel’s visit, without being interrupted.

Having Mam’s suitor here two days running was a wonder, and although she’d enjoyed Samuel’s company, Anna wasn’t certain that it was quite right for him to spend so much time here with the family away. True, Susanna had been here, but Susanna wasn’t what one would call a perfect chaperone, or at least not one her Aunt Martha would approve of. Anna couldn’t hold back a chuckle. There wasn’t much that Mam and Anna’s sisters did that pleased her aunt. Aunt Martha meant well, but in Anna’s opinion, she spent far too much time worrying about the proper behavior of her relatives and neighbors.

Having Samuel at the table yesterday had been very enjoyable, so enjoyable that it made her feel all warm inside. He’d been still painting at one o’clock when she called him for dinner. Despite her earlier disasters, that was one meal that Mam would have been proud of. The biscuits weren’t burnt, the chicken had browned perfectly and the rest had turned out the way it was supposed to. And Samuel had given her so many compliments that she’d been almost too flustered to be a good hostess.

A quick stop at the bathroom and Anna was downstairs to build up the fire in the woodstove before going outside for morning chores. They didn’t need the woodstove to heat the house anymore because they used propane heat, but Anna loved baking in it and loved the way it made the kitchen cozy on cold mornings. Flora and Jeremiah wagged their tails in greeting, and the little terrier dashed around her ankles as Anna took Dat’s old barn coat off the hook and put it on.

“Come along,” she called to the two dogs, as she tied a wool scarf over her head. Although she never shirked her share of what had to be done, Anna had never been fond of outside chores. Pigs and horses made her nervous, but cows were different. Cows were usually gentle, and there was something peaceful about milking. Anna had always found it a good time to pray. She had asked Mam once if it was irreverent to talk to God in a barn. Mam, in her wisdom, had said that since the baby Jesus had been born in a stable, she could see no reason why His Father in heaven would be put out.

With Irwin gone to the auction with Miriam and Charley, Tyler, from down the road, was helping her this week. The red-cheeked twelve-year-old had already fed the horses and filled their water buckets. Both Bossy, the Holstein, and Polly, the Jersey, would be calving in the spring and had about gone dry. Tyler offered to milk them off while Anna milked Buttercup, the new Guernsey. Buttercup was as sweet as her name. She’d had a late calf and still produced lots of milk.

“Good girl,” Anna crooned to the fawn-and-white cow with the large brown eyes. “Nice Buttercup.” She washed the cow’s udder with warm soapy water that she’d carried from the house, poured a measure of feed into the trough and settled onto the milking stool. The snow falling outside, the fragrant scents of hay and silage and the warmth of the animals made the barn especially cozy today, making Anna content. As she rested her head against Buttercup’s side and streams of milk poured into the shiny stainless steel bucket, Anna’s heart swelled with joy as she thought of all the gifts the Lord had bestowed on her.

She had a wonderful mother and sisters, a home that she loved and the security of a faith and community that surrounded her like a giant hug. Even the grief of her father’s death more than two years ago had begun to ease, so that she could remember the good times that they’d had together. They all would have wanted Dat to live to be a hundred, but it wasn’t meant to be. No human could hope to understand God’s ways, least of all her. What she could do was work each day to appreciate the bounty He had blessed her with.

Silently, Anna offered prayers for her mother’s and sisters’ safe return from their journeys, and for the health of Grossmama and Aunt Jezebel. As she prayed, the level of the milk rose in the pail, smelling sweet and fresh, drawing the barn cats to patiently wait for her to finish.

She asked God to heal Samuel’s sorrow for the loss of his wife and give him the wisdom and patience to tend his children. Above all, she prayed for little Mae, so far from the only home and the only mother she’d ever known. She finished, as always, with the Lord’s prayer and a plea that He guide her hands and footsteps through the day to help her serve her family and faith according to God’s plan. She was about to murmur a devout amen, when one last prayer slipped between her lips.

“And please, God, if it seems right, could you find someone to marry me, someone with a heart as good as Samuel’s?”

“Ya?” Tyler called from a stall away. “You said something to me?” He stood up from behind Bossy. “Not much this morning from her.”

“Ne,” Anna replied quickly.

She pressed her lips tightly together. She hadn’t meant to trouble God with her small problems, and she certainly hadn’t meant for Tyler to hear. Her eyelids felt prickly and moisture clouded her eyes. She hadn’t meant to be selfish this morning, but since she had uttered her deepest wish, maybe the Lord wouldn’t take it amiss.

She blinked away the tears and closed her eyes. This is Anna Yoder again, Lord. I know that I’m not slim or pretty or particularly smart, she offered silently, but I think I would make a good wife and mother. So if You happen to come across someone who needs a willing partner, remember me.

“Anna?”

Jerked from her thoughts, Anna realized that Tyler was now standing beside her. At twelve, he was losing the look of a child and starting to shoot up, all long legs and arms, but he still retained the sweet, easygoing nature that he possessed since he’d been a babe.

“Sorry,” Anna said. “I didn’t hear—”

Tyler grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with humor. “Falling asleep on the milking stool, I’d say.” He held out his pail. It wasn’t even half full. “All I could get from the two of them.” He set the bucket on a feed box. “I’d best be getting to school.”

“You better stop by the chair shop and see if your Dat’s heard anything about school. Be sure Johanna hasn’t cancelled.”

“That’d be nice.” Tyler grinned even wider. “Then I can go sledding.” He pulled thick blue mittens from his jacket pocket. “You need me tomorrow?”

“Ne,” Anna replied. “Miriam, Charley and Irwin should be back today.” Anna patted Buttercup, lifted her bucket away from the cow and got to her feet.

“Unless this turns into a blizzard and they’re stuck in Virginia. Irwin’s lucky, getting out of school all week.”

“Don’t worry. Mam will see that he makes up every last math problem. And you know how he hates homework.” After a rocky start when Irwin had first come to Seven Poplars, he and Tyler had struck up a fast friendship. Anna was glad to see it. Irwin needed friends, and he couldn’t pick a better pal than steady Tyler.

“I’ll see to the chickens on the way out,” Tyler called over his shoulder.

Anna turned Buttermilk into a shed with the others, and then started for the house with a milk pail in each hand. She was halfway across the yard and planning what to cook for breakfast, when the two dogs suddenly began to bark, and abruptly Samuel and all five of his children came around the corner of the corn crib. Anna was so surprised that she nearly dropped the milk. Samuel? Again, this morning?

She scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t sound foolish, but all she could manage was, “Good morning!”

Samuel had one girl—it appeared to be Lori Ann—clinging to his back and he was pulling another on a sled. They were so bundled up against the cold that it was hard to tell the two smallest ones apart. The twins, Rudy and Peter, trudged behind him, and Naomi trailed behind them. “Good morning to you, Anna!” Samuel called cheerfully. Lori Ann echoed her father’s greeting.

“You walked,” Anna said, which sounded even more foolish. It was obvious that they had walked. There was no buggy in sight and Samuel was pulling the sled. They had probably taken a shortcut across the adjoining fields rather than coming by the road.

“School is closed,” Naomi supplied.

“C-c-closed,” chimed Lori Ann.

“I came to finish the room,” Samuel explained. His wide-brimmed felt hat and his beard were covered with snow, and it seemed to Anna as if the snowflakes had gotten as large as cotton balls since she’d gone into the barn. “To give it a second coat,” Samuel finished.

“Oh.” Had they eaten breakfast? What could she offer them? Anna wondered. She and Susanna had planned on oatmeal and toast this morning. The thought that Samuel had caught her at less than her best again flashed through her mind. She was wearing Dat’s barn coat and her hair wasn’t decently covered with her kapp.

“You don’t have to feed us this morning,” Samuel said, as if reading her mind. “I fed them all before the oldest went off to school.”

“But Johanna sent us home,” Rudy said. “The radio said we’re getting eight inches.”

Peter added hopefully, “Maybe there won’t be any school next week either.”

Samuel’s ruddy face grew a little redder. “I have a battery radio,” he said. “Not for music, but so that I can hear the news and weather. I just turn it on when it appears that there might be an emergency. Something that might affect the school or the trucks that pick up my milk.”

Anna nodded. “Ya.” Mam had a radio for the same reason, but it wasn’t something that Samuel needed to know. Radios weren’t exactly forbidden, but they were frowned upon by the more conservative members of the church. Of course, that didn’t keep some of the teenagers and young people from secretly having them and listening to “fast” music. “That makes sense.”

“We brought a turkey,” Naomi said. “For dinner.”

Samuel shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s frozen. I wasn’t expecting to bring the three oldest with me today, but I don’t know how long the painting will take, and—”

“Why are we standing out here?” Anna said. She’d covered the tops of the milk buckets with cheesecloth, but any moment the melting snow would be dripping into the milk. “Come into the house. And not to worry about the noon meal. You didn’t have to come back to do a second coat. I could have—”

“And another reason,” Samuel said, following her toward the house. “A phone call to the chair shop, from Hannah. Roman came over to tell Johanna, at the school. Your mother won’t be headed home until Sunday or Monday. Their driver is waiting to see how bad this snow is before he starts for Delaware.”

Anna nodded. She missed Mam, and she knew that Susanna had hoped Mam would be returning by tomorrow. But having Samuel finish the painting would be a Godsend. That would leave her free to make the rest of the house shine like a new pin.

And having Samuel all to herself again, that would be fun, too … wouldn’t it? Anna shook off that small inner whisper. Samuel was a friend and a neighbor, and was soon to be Mam’s suitor. He’d come to help out for her mother’s sake, no other reason. And just because she’d foolishly mistaken what he’d said about courting Mam, she had no reason to spin fancies in her head.

Then the little voice in the far corner of her mind spoke again. But you could pretend that this was your family…. What harm would that do? Just pretend for today….

“It would be wrong,” Anna said.

“What would be wrong?” Samuel asked. “It seems to me that waiting to see if the weather’s going to grow worse before starting such a long drive is good sense. You wouldn’t want them to go into a ditch somewhere between here and Ohio, would you?”

“Of course not,” Anna protested. “I was thinking of something else, nothing important. You come in and get warm.”

“We want to stay out and play in the snow,” Rudy said. “Dat said we could.”

“Just the boys,” Samuel said. “Girls inside.”

“But Dat,” Naomi protested. “I want to make a snowman.”

Samuel’s brow furrowed. “I need you to watch over your sisters. Anna has more to do than tend to mischievous children.”

“Ne, Samuel,” Anna put in gently. “Let her enjoy the snow. Lori Ann is a big girl. She can help me bake pies, and I have Susanna to tend to Mae. We see so little snow in Kent County. Let Naomi play in it.”

Naomi threw her a grateful look. “Please, Dat,” she begged.

Lori Ann was beaming.

“Well, if Anna doesn’t mind. But you’re getting past the age of playing with boys. Best you learn to keep to a woman’s work.”

Anna rolled her eyes, but when she spoke, she kept her voice gentle and soothing. “Soon enough she will take on those tasks, Samuel, and joyfully, from what I can see. She’s been a great help to you these past four years.”

“I can see I’m outnumbered,” he answered. “But I’ll not have you spoil them beyond bearing. And little Mae is a handful, as Naomi can vouch for.”

Mae giggled.

Anna bent and lifted the child from the sled. “Nothing to laugh at,” she admonished. “You must respect your father. You’re not a baby anymore. Watch Lori Ann and see how good and helpful she is.”

Lori Ann’s eyes widened and she nodded, pleased by the praise. “Ya,”