Книга - Anna’s Gift

Anna's Gift
Emma Miller


Surprise ProposalIn Amish Country No one in Seven Poplars, Delaware, expects Anna Yoder ever to marry. Among her six pretty, petite sisters, big and plain Anna feels like a plow horse. But then Samuel Mast, the handsome widowed father she has secretly loved for years, asks if he can court her.Surely Anna has misheard—Samuel has his pick of lovely brides! She’s convinced he seeks a wife only as a mother for his five children. Or could a man like Samuel actually have a very romantic reason for wanting Anna by his side forever?Hannah’s Daughters: Seeking love, family and faith in Amish country.










“It’s really you I want to talk to,” Samuel said.

“Me?” Anna’s mouth gaped open and she snapped it shut. Her stomach turned over. “Something I can do for you?”

“Ya. I want …”

Anna shifted her weight and the wooden step under her left foot creaked.

“If you would …” He took a deep breath and straightened his broad shoulders.

Staring at him, Anna couldn’t stop the fluttering in the pit of her stomach. “Ya?” she coaxed. “You want …”

“I want to court you, Anna,” Samuel blurted out. “I want that you should give me the honor to become my wife.”

Anna froze, unable to exhale. She blinked as black spots raced behind her eyes. Abruptly, she felt her hands go numb. Her knees went weak and the ladder began to sway. There was an ominous crack of wood, the step broke, and paint, ladder and Anna went flying.


Dear Reader,

Welcome again to Seven Poplars, Delaware, home of the Old Order Amish family, the Yoders, and their friends and family. Anna’s story is particularly dear to me because, unlike her sisters, she isn’t beautiful by contemporary standards, not even in the Amish community. But beauty, we know, is in the eye of the beholder. Widower Samuel Mast has always seen Anna for her beauty within, and is eager to make her his wife. Anna has secretly adored Samuel and his children for years. The question is, can Anna, can any of us, truly love another if we do not love ourselves?

I hope you’ll enjoy reading Anna’s story as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. As I came to know and love Anna Yoder, I was amazed by the wisdom and quiet and abiding faith in God that she displayed. I think you’ll agree that plump Anna, the plain sister, is a special young woman.

Please come back and join me for Leah Yoder’s story. After a year in Ohio, caring for her aging grandmother, she’s eager to be a part of Seven Poplars again. Then she meets Daniel Brown and her world turns topsy-turvy. Does she belong in Delaware with her family, or half a world away, serving God as a Mennonite missionary’s wife? And if she follows her heart and chooses Daniel, will it tear her traditional family apart?

Wishing you peace and joy, Emma Miller




About the Author


EMMA MILLER lives quietly in her old farmhouse in rural Delaware amid fertile fields and lush woodlands. Fortunate enough to be born into a family of strong faith, she grew up on a dairy farm, surrounded by loving parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Emma was educated in local schools, and once taught in an Amish schoolhouse much like the one at Seven Poplars. When she’s not caring for her large family, reading and writing are her favorite pastimes.


Anna’s Gift



Emma Miller




















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Mildred,

for the delight her beauty brought to my world.


Let your beauty not be external … but the inner person of the heart, the lasting beauty of a gentle and tranquil spirit, which is precious in God’s sight.

—1 Peter 3:3–4




Chapter One


Kent County, Delaware … Winter

Anna Yoder carried an open can of robin’s egg-blue paint carefully through the big farmhouse kitchen, down the hall and into the bedroom across from her mother’s room. Her sister, Susanna, trailed two steps behind, a paintbrush in each hand.

“I want to paint,” Susanna proclaimed for the fourth time. “I can paint good. Can I paint, Anna? Can I?”

Anna glanced over her shoulder at her younger sister, and nodded patiently. “Yes, you can paint. But not right now. I’m cutting in and it’s tricky not getting paint on the floor or the ceiling. You can help with the rolling later.”

“Ya!” Susanna agreed, and her round face lit up in a huge smile as she bounced from one bare foot to the other and waved the paintbrushes in the air. “I’m the goodest painter!”

Anna chuckled. “I’m sure you are the best painter.”

Susanna was nothing, if not enthusiastic. Of her six sisters, Susanna was the dearest and the one toward which Anna felt most protective. Sweet, funny Susanna was the baby of the family and had been born with Down syndrome. Their Dat had always called her one of God’s special children; at eighteen, Susanna still possessed the innocence of a girl of nine or ten.

Fortunately, for all the tasks that came hard to Susanna, such as reading, sewing or cooking, the Lord had blessed her with a bottomless well of special gifts. Susanna could soothe a crying baby better than any of them; she always knew when it was going to rain, and she had a rare ability to see through the complications of life to find the simple and shining truth. And sometimes, when things weren’t going well, when the cow had gone dry or the garden was withering for lack of rain, Susanna could fill the house with laughter and remind them all that there was always hope in God’s great plan.

Still, keeping track of Susanna and running the household was a big responsibility, one that Anna felt doubly, with Mam off to Ohio to bring Anna’s grandmother, great aunt and sisters, Rebecca and Leah, home. Susanna and Anna would be on their own for several days. Their sister Ruth and her husband, Eli, who lived just across the field, had gone to a wedding in Pennsylvania. Irwin, the boy who lived with them, had accompanied their sister Miriam and her husband, Charley, to an auction in Virginia. Not that Anna didn’t have help. Eli’s cousin was pitching in with the milking and the outside chores, but Anna still had a lot to do. And not a lot of time to get it all done.

Anna had promised Mam to have the house spic-and-span when she returned home, and she took the responsibility seriously. Having both Miriam and Ruth marry and move out in November had been a big change, but bringing Grossmama and Aunt Jezebel into the house would be an even bigger change. Grossmama was no longer able to live on her own. Anna understood that, and she knew why her mother felt responsible for Dat’s aging mother, especially now that he was gone. The trouble was, Grossmama and Mam had never gotten along, and with the onset of Alzheimer’s, Anna doubted that the situation would improve. Luckily, everyone adored Grossmama’s younger sister, Jezebel; unlike Grossmama, Aunt Jezebel was easygoing and would fit smoothly into the household.

“We’re paintin’ because Grossmama’s coming,” Susanna chirped. Her speech wasn’t always perfect, but her family understood every word she said. “She baked me a gingerbread man.”

“Ya,” Anna agreed. “She did.” Susanna was the one person in the household who her grandmother never found fault with, and that was a good thing. If Grossmama could see how precious Susanna was, she couldn’t be that bad, could she?

Once, when she was visiting years ago, Grossmama had spent the afternoon baking cookies and had made Susanna a gingerbread man with raisin eyes, a cranberry nose and a marshmallow beard. Susanna had never forgotten, and whenever their grandmother was mentioned, Susanna reminded them of the gingerbread treat.

Grossmama had fallen on the stairs at her house the previous year, fracturing a hip, so Mam hadn’t wanted her climbing the steps to a second-floor bedroom here. Instead, they’d decided to move Anna and Susanna upstairs to join Leah and Rebecca in the dormitory-style chamber over the kitchen. Grossmama and Aunt Jezebel could share this large downstairs room just a few feet away from the bathroom.

It was a lovely room, with tall windows and plenty of room for two beds, a chest of drawers and a rocking chair. Anna knew that Grossmama and Aunt Jezebel would be comfortable here … except for the color. Anna couldn’t remember which of her sisters had chosen the original color for the walls, but Grossmama hated it. She’d made a fuss when Mam had written to explain the new arrangements. Grossmama said that she could never sleep one night in a bed surrounded by fancy “English” walls.

By saying “English,” Anna understood that her grandmother meant “not Plain.” To Grossmama, white was properly Plain; blue was Plain. Since the ceiling, the window trim, the doors and the fireplace mantel were white, blue was the color in Anna’s paint can. Actually, Anna didn’t see anything improper about the color the room was now. The muted purple was closer to lavender, and she had a lavender dress and cape that she really loved. But once Grossmama set her mind on a thing or against it, there was no changing it.

Standing in the bedroom now, staring at the walls, Anna wished Ruth was there. Ruth was a good painter. Anna prided herself on her skill at cooking, perhaps more than she should have, but she knew that her painting ability was sketchy at best. But, since the choice was between Susanna or her, Anna knew who had to paint the room.

Of course, she’d meant to get started sooner, but the week had gotten away from her. Susanna had a dentist appointment on Monday, which took all afternoon by the time they had to wait for the driver. On Tuesday, there had been extra eggs, which needed to go to Spence’s Auction and Bazaar. Normally, they didn’t go to Spence’s in the winter months, but Aunt Martha and Dorcas had opened a baked-goods stand. Anna had taken the opportunity to leave Susanna with their oldest sister, Johanna, so that she could go with Aunt Martha to sell her eggs and jams.

Now it was Wednesday. After Mam left at dawn, Anna and Susanna had spent the morning scrubbing, dusting, polishing and setting her yeast dough to rise. Now there were no more excuses. Anna had to start painting if she wanted to be finished on time. Because they were alone, Anna wore her oldest dress, the one with the blackberry stains, and had covered her hair—not with a proper white kapp, but with a blue scarf that Irwin’s terrier had chewed holes in.

Knowing that Susanna would be certain to lean against a freshly painted wall, Anna had made sure that Susanna’s clothing was equally worn. That way, if the dresses were ruined it wouldn’t be a waste. Anna’s final precaution was to remove her shoes and stockings and ask Susanna to do the same. Paint would scrub off bare feet. Black stockings and sneakers wouldn’t be so lucky.

Gingerly setting the can on the little shelf on the ladder, Anna climbed the rickety rungs, dipped her brush in the can and began to carefully paint along the wall, just below the ceiling. She’d barely gone two feet when Susanna announced that she was hungry. “Wait a little,” Anna coaxed. “It’s still early. When I get as far as the window, we’ll have some lunch.”

“But, Anna, I’m hungry now.”

“All right. Go and fix yourself a honey biscuit.”

“‘Fff … thirsty, too,” she said, struggling to pronounce the word properly.

“Milk or tea. You don’t need my help.”

“I’ll make you a biscuit, too.”

“Ne. I’ll eat later. Don’t wander off,” she cautioned her sister. “Stay in the house.” Susanna was capable of taking care of herself on the farm, but it was cold today, with snow flurries in the forecast, and she didn’t always remember to wear her coat. It wouldn’t do for Mam to come home and find Susanna sick with a cold.

Anna continued to paint. The blue covered the lavender better than she thought it would. It would need a second coat, but she had expected as much. As she carefully brushed paint on the wall in a line along the ceiling’s edge, Anna began to hum and then to sing one of her favorite fast tunes from the Liedersammlung. She liked to sing when she was alone. Her voice wasn’t as good as Johanna’s or Ruth’s, but singing made her feel bubbly inside. And now, with only Susanna to hear, she could sing as loudly as she wanted. If she was a bit off-key, her little sister wouldn’t complain.

“Anna? Maybe we come at a bad time?”

Startled by a deep male voice, Anna stopped singing midword and spun around, holding onto the ladder with her free hand. “Samuel!”

Their nearest neighbor, the widower Samuel Mast, stood inside the bedroom holding his youngest daughter, Mae, by the hand. Mortified by her appearance and imagining how awful her singing must have sounded, Anna wanted to shrink up and hide behind the paint can. Of all the people to catch her in such a condition, it had to be Samuel Mast. Tall, broad-shouldered, handsome Samuel Mast. Anna’s cheeks felt as though they were on fire, and she knew she must be as flame-colored as a ripe tomato.

“I remembered what you said.” Susanna hopped from one foot to the other in the doorway. “I didn’t go outside. Let Samuel and Mae in.” She beamed.

“You’re busy,” Samuel said, tugging on Mae’s hand. “We can come back another—”

“Ne,” Anna interrupted, setting her brush carefully across the paint can and coming down the ladder. “Just … you surprised me.” She tried to cover her embarrassment with a smile, but knew it was lopsided. Samuel. Of all the people to see her like this, in her patched clothing and bare legs, it had to be Samuel. Her stomach felt as though she’d swallowed a feather duster. “It’s not a bad time,’’ she babbled in a rush. “I’m painting the room. Blue.”

“Ya, blue. I can see that.” Samuel looked as uncomfortable as she felt. Anna had never seen him looking so flustered. Or untidy, for that matter. Samuel’s nut-brown hair, which badly needed cutting, stuck out in clumps and appeared to have gobs of oatmeal stuck in it. His shirt was wrinkled, and one suspender hung by a thread. Even his trousers and shoes were smeared with dried oatmeal.

“Something wrong?” Anna glanced at Mae. The child was red-eyed from crying, her nose was running, her kapp was missing, and her face and hands were smeared with dried oatmeal, too. Anna’s heart immediately went out to the little girl. She’d left her aunt’s only two weeks ago, to live with her father for the first time, and Anna knew the move couldn’t have been easy for her. “Are you having a hard morning, pumpkin?”

Mae’s bottom lip came out and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Want … want Aunt L’eeze. Want … want to go home! Want her!”

Anna glanced at Samuel, who looked ready to burst into tears as well, and took command. “Mae—” she leaned down to speak to her at eye-level “—would you like to go with Susanna into the kitchen and have a honey biscuit and a cup of milk?”

Mae nodded, her lower lip still protruding.

Anna stood up. “Susanna, could you get Mae a biscuit?”

“Ya,” Susanna agreed. “And wash her face.” She smiled at Mae. “You look like a little piggy.”

For seconds, Mae seemed suspended between tears and a smile, but then she nodded and threw her chubby arms up to Susanna.

Samuel sighed as Susanna scooped up Mae and carried her away. “I don’t seem to get anything right with her,” he said.

Anna smiled. “Best to feed children porridge and wash them with soap and water. Not the other way around.”

Samuel returned a hint of a smile, obviously embarrassed. “It’s … been hard … these last weeks,” he stumbled. “Having her home. She’s been four years with my sister, and I’m … we’re strange to her. She doesn’t know me or her brothers and sisters.”

Sensing that it might be easier for Samuel to share his concerns if she continued with her work, Anna climbed the ladder again and dipped her brush into the can.

Aunt Martha had been telling Mam the other day that Samuel was finding it difficult to manage his farm, his house and to care for five children, and that it was just a matter of time before he realized it. “Then he’ll start looking for a wife,” she’d said. “Something he should have done three years ago.”

“When Frieda passed, little Mae was only two months old,” Samuel continued. “I had my hands full, so Louise thought it better if she took the baby home to Ohio until … until …”

Anna knew until what—until Samuel finished mourning his wife and remarried. Usually, widowers waited a year before looking for a new partner, but sometimes, when there were small children, the waiting period might be much shorter. Samuel’s widowerhood had somehow stretched to four years.

In all those years, Samuel had made no formal attempt to court anyone, but most of Kent County suspected that he was sweet on Mam. Despite their age difference—Mam was eight years older—it would be a fine match. Samuel was handsome, a deacon of the church, and would make an excellent provider for an extended family. Not only did their farms run side-by-side, but Samuel had one of the finest dairy herds in the state.

Everyone liked Samuel. It wasn’t just that he was a good-looking bear of a man, with his broad shoulders, a sturdy build and warm brown eyes, but he was hardworking, funny and fair-minded. It was clear that he and Mam were good friends, and Samuel spent many an evening at their kitchen table, drinking coffee, talking and laughing with her. Why he hadn’t formally asked to court her, Anna couldn’t guess. But that was okay with Anna. It was hard for her to imagine having Samuel for a stepfather. She’d secretly dreamed about him, although she’d never said a word to anyone other than her cousin, Dorcas. Even now, just having him in the room with her made her pulse race and her head go all giddy.

Anna knew, of course, that Samuel Mast, probably the catch of the county, would never look at her. Anna considered herself sensible, dependable, hardworking and Plain. But among the pretty red-haired Yoder sisters, Anna stuck out like a plow horse in a field of pacers. A healthy mare, her Aunt Martha called her, but no amount of brushing her hair or pinching her cheeks could make her pretty. Her face was too round, her mouth too wide, and her nose was like a lump of biscuit dough.

Her mother had always told her that true beauty was in the heart and spirit, but everyone knew what boys liked. Men were attracted to cute girls and handsome women, and it was the slender maedles with good dowries who got the pick of the best husband material.

No, Anna wasn’t foolish enough to consider ever marrying a man as fine and good-looking as Samuel, but it didn’t keep her from dreaming. And it didn’t stop her from wishing that there was someone like him somewhere, who could see beneath her sturdy frame and Plain features, to appreciate her for who she was inside.

“Don’t worry,” Aunt Martha always said. “Any woman works as hard as you do and cooks hasen kucha like yours, she’ll find a man. Might be one not so easy on the eyes out West someplace, or a bucktoothed widower with a dozen sons and no daughters to help with the housework, but someone will have you.”

Anna knew she wanted a husband, babies and a home of her own, but she wondered if the price might be higher than she wanted to pay. She loved her mother and her sisters, and she loved living in Seven Poplars with all the neighbors and friends who were dear to her. She wasn’t certain she would be willing to leave Delaware to marry, especially with the prospects Aunt Martha suggested would be available to her.

“Anna?”

“Ya?” She glanced back at Samuel, feeling even more foolish. While she’d been dream-weaving, Samuel had been saying something to her. “I’m listening,” she said, which wasn’t quite true.

“My Frieda is dead four years.”

Anna nodded, not certain where the conversation was going. “She is,” Anna agreed. “Four years.”

“And two months,” Samuel added. “Time I … made plans for my family.”

Suddenly realizing what he might be talking about, she grasped the ladder to keep it from swaying. “I’m sorry you missed Mam.” Her voice seemed too loud in the empty room. “I’m not sure when she’ll be home. A few days. It depends on the weather and how Grossmama is feeling.”

“I … didn’t come … didn’t come to speak … to Hannah.” Each word seemed to come as a struggle.

She paused, resting her brush on the lip of the paint can, giving him her full attention. If he hadn’t come to talk to Mam, why was he here? Was he sick? Was that why he looked so bad? “Do you need help with something? Charley should be back—”

“Ne. It’s you, really, I want to talk to.”

“Me?” Her mouth gaped open and she snapped it shut. Her stomach turned over. “Something I can do for you?”

“Ya. I want …”

Anna shifted her weight and the wooden step under her left foot creaked. “You want …” she urged, trying to help.

“If you would …” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.

He was a big man, so attractive, even with his scraggly hair and oatmeal on his clothes. He filled the doorway, and staring at him, Anna couldn’t stop the fluttering in the pit of her stomach. “Ya?” she coaxed. “You want …”

“I want to court you, Anna,” Samuel blurted out. “I want that you should give me the honor to become my wife.”

Anna froze, unable to exhale. Surely he hadn’t said what she thought he said. She blinked as black spots raced before her eyes. Abruptly, she felt her hands go numb. Her knees went weak and the ladder began to sway. An instant later, paint, ladder and Anna went flying.




Chapter Two


“Anna!” Samuel rushed forward in an attempt to catch her, and they went down together in a crash of wood, entwined arms and legs, and what seemed like gallons of blue paint. Samuel slid rather than fell to the floor and ended up with Anna in his lap, his arms securely around her middle. Somewhere in the jumble, the paint can hit the wall and bounced, spraying paint everywhere.

Samuel peered into Anna’s startled face. Her eyes were wide, her mouth gaped, but the only sound she made was a small, “Oh, no.”

“Are you hurt?” he asked, letting go of her when he realized he still held his arms tightly around her. He tried to rise, slipped in the river of paint and sat down hard, a splat rising from around his britches. As they fell a second time, Anna’s arms instinctively went around his neck, bringing her face only inches from his. She was so close, he could have kissed her full, rosy lips.

“Anna?” he said, out of breath. “Are you all right?”

She gave a gasp, wiggled out of his embrace and scrambled up, her back foot slipping. Throwing both arms out for balance, she caught herself before she went down again.

Samuel knew he had to say something. But what? Anna sucked in a gulp of air, threw her apron up over her blue-streaked face and ran through the doorway, nearly running into Susanna and Mae, and out of the room.

“Anna,” he called, trying to get to his feet again, but having less luck than she had. “Come back. It’s all right.” He dropped onto all fours and used his hands to push himself up. “It’s only paint. Anna!”

But Anna was gone, and the only evidence that she’d been there was the warm feeling in his chest, and a trail of bright blue footprints across the wide, red floorboards.

“You spilled the paint.” Susanna began to giggle, then pointed at him. “And you have paint in your beard.”

“Beard,” Mae echoed, standing solemnly beside her newfound friend.

Samuel looked down at his blue hands and up at the two girls, and he began to laugh, too. Great belly laughs rolled up from the pit of his stomach. “We did spill the paint, didn’t we?” he managed to say as he looked around the room at the mess they’d made. “We spilled a lot of paint.”

“A lot,” Susanna agreed.

Mae stared at him with her mother’s bright blue eyes and clutched the older girl’s hand. The fearful expression in his daughter’s wide-eyed gaze made him want to gather her up in his arms and hug her, but in his state, that was out of the question. Two painted scarecrows in one house was enough; the hugs would have to wait until later.

“Susanna, could you go and see if your sister is hurt?” Samuel asked. His first instinct was to follow Anna to see for himself that she was okay and to assure her that she had no need to be embarrassed. Anyone could have an accident, and the wooden ladder had obviously seen better days. But he’d heard her run up the stairs, and it wouldn’t be seemly for him to intrude on her. With her mother out of the house, he had to show respect and maintain proper behavior. If he was going to court Anna, he was going to do it right and behave the way any man courting her would be expected to.

“Ya,” Susanna agreed. Still giggling, she trotted off with Mae glued to her skirts.

Turning in a circle, Samuel exhaled and wiped his hands on his pants. The way he’d been swimming in the paint, they were a total loss anyway. He rubbed a bruised elbow and the back of his head as he studied the floor, the wall, and the broken ladder. How, he wondered, had so much paint come from one gallon?

This was a fine barrel of pickles.

After putting it off for so long and practicing his proposal of marriage to Anna over and over in his head, it had gone all wrong. It couldn’t have gone worse. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he certainly hadn’t thought the statement of his intentions would frighten her so badly that she’d fall off a ladder, or drop into his arms—although that had been a pleasant interlude. He didn’t know why sweet Anna had been so surprised, or why she’d run away from him. He hoped that it wasn’t because the idea of marrying him and instantly becoming the mother of five children was so preposterous.

Samuel picked up the paint can and set it upright—there couldn’t have been more than half a cup of paint left in the bottom. The room was a disaster. He decided he’d better get a start on cleaning it up before the paint began to dry. If he was lucky, maybe Anna would come down and join him and they could talk. He would need rags, a mop and maybe even a shovel to start wiping up the excess paint, but he didn’t have the faintest idea where to find them.

The first thing he needed to do, before he went looking for the supplies, was to take his shoes off so he didn’t track paint through the house. Setting the ladder upright, he sat down on the lower rung and began to unlace his brogans.

Samuel wondered if he’d gone about this all wrong. The custom was for the suitor to ask a go-between to talk to the girl’s family before a proposal of marriage was formally offered. But with Anna’s father dead and not a single brother, that left Hannah as the sole parent. Samuel supposed he could have approached Anna’s uncle by marriage, Reuben Coblentz, but that would have involved Reuben’s wife, Martha. Reuben didn’t scratch until Martha told him where he itched. Plus, Hannah and Martha didn’t always see eye to eye, and Hannah had made it clear that she didn’t care for her late husband’s sister interfering in her personal family matters.

That left speaking directly to Hannah before he approached Anna, but he’d decided against that because he was afraid that Hannah might have misconstrued his previous regular visits to the Yoder farm. There wasn’t any doubt in Samuel’s mind that most of the community thought that he was courting Hannah, or at least testing the waters. It could well be that Hannah thought so, too, and he didn’t want to make matters worse by embarrassing her, maybe even hurting her feelings. Samuel liked Hannah, and he always enjoyed her company, but there was no comparing the warm friendship that he felt for her to his keen attraction to Anna.

What Samuel and his late wife, Frieda, had had was a comfortable marriage, but his father and her family had arranged the match. Samuel had been willing because it seemed such a sensible arrangement. He thought Frieda would make a good wife, and he’d always been reluctant to go against his father’s wishes.

He’d been just nineteen to Frieda’s twenty-three when they wed. Everyone said that it was a good match, and he could remember the excitement of their wedding day. Neither of them had expected romance, but they’d come to respect and care for each other, and they both adored the children the Lord sent them.

When Frieda’s heart had failed and he’d lost her, he’d genuinely mourned her passing. But Frieda had been gone a long time, so long that he sometimes had trouble remembering her face. And he was lonely, not just for a helpmate, not just for a mother for his children, but for someone with whom he could open his heart.

If he was honest with himself, Samuel reckoned he’d been attracted to Anna for at least two years. Just seeing her across a room gave him a breathless, shivery thrill that he’d never experienced before. Oh, he wasn’t blind. He knew what the other young men in the community thought about Anna. She wasn’t small or trim, and she didn’t have delicate features. Some fellows went so far as to make fun of her size. Not where Anna could hear, of course, or him either. He would have never stood by and allowed such a fine woman to be insulted by foolish boys who couldn’t see how special she was.

In his heart, Samuel had always admired strong women. Other than Frieda, who’d been the exception, every girl he’d ever driven home from a singing or a young people’s gathering had been sturdy. His mother, his sisters and his aunts were all good cooks and mothers, and all of formidable size. Like Anna, they all had the gift of hospitality, of making people feel welcome in their homes. And regardless of what anyone else thought, he appreciated Anna Yoder for who she was. “Big women have big hearts,” his father always said, and Samuel agreed.

For longer than he wanted to admit, Samuel had been watching Anna and trying to convince himself that it was just his loneliness. After all, how fair was it for a man with five children and the responsibility of a large farm to propose marriage to a beautiful young woman like Anna? So he’d put off the decision to do anything about his feelings. As long as he didn’t speak up, he was free to imagine what it would be like having her in his house, sitting beside him at the kitchen table, or bringing him a cold glass of lemonade when he was hot and sweaty from working in the fields. Month after month, he’d waited for her to reach the age of twenty-one, but when she had, he still hadn’t found the nerve to ask.

What if she rejected him out of hand? So long as he didn’t speak up, he could keep on going to Hannah’s house, sitting at their table, savoring Anna’s hot cinnamon-raisin buns and chicken and dumplings. But once he brought up the subject, if Anna refused him, Hannah might have no choice but to discourage his visits.

He hoped he was a truly faithful man, a good father and a good farmer. He’d been blessed by beautiful children, caring parents and a loving family. The Lord had provided material goods, land of his own and a fine herd of dairy cows. He served on the school board and helped his neighbors. His life should have been full, but it wasn’t. He longed for Anna Yoder to be his wife.

It had taken his sister Louise to finally put an end to his hesitation. She’d brought Mae home, handed her over, and told him that it was time he found a new wife and a new mother for his children. He had to agree. It was past time. But now that he’d made up his mind and chosen the right woman, he’d made a mess of things.

What must Anna think of him? No wonder she was embarrassed. He’d had his arms around her, had her literally in his lap, and they’d both been doused in blue paint, like some sort of English clowns. He wanted to court her honorably, to give her the love and caring she deserved, and instead he’d made her look foolish.

In his stocking feet, Samuel stepped over a puddle of paint, taking in the room again.

After the mess he had made, it would serve him right if Anna never spoke to him again.

Anna stood in the shower in the big upstairs bathroom and scrubbed every inch of her skin. She knew that she should be downstairs cleaning up the terrible mess she’d made, but she couldn’t face Samuel. She’d probably have to hide from him for the rest of her life.

How could she have been so clumsy? Not only had she fallen off the ladder, but when Samuel had tried to catch her, they’d both gone down in a huge pool of blue paint.

She wished she could weep as her sisters did, as most girls did when something bad happened. But this was too awful for tears. Not only had she embarrassed herself and Samuel, but she’d probably ruined things between her mother and Samuel. She’d be the laughing stock of the community, and Samuel would probably never come to the Yoder farm again. And all because of her foolish daydreaming. What a silly girl she was, thinking Samuel had said he wanted to court her. She probably needed to clean out her ears. She had obviously misunderstood.

“Anna!” Susanna cracked the bathroom door. “You made a mess.”

“Go away,” Anna ordered.

“Samuel told me to come see if you were all right.”

“He didn’t leave yet?” her voice came out a little shrill.

“Nope. He told me to come see if you—”

“I’m fine,” Anna interrupted, hugging herself. Emotion caught in her throat at the sheer mention of Samuel’s name. “Just go away, please.”

The door opened wider, and her sister’s round face appeared. Anna could see her through the filmy, white shower curtain.

“Are you blue, Anna? Will the blue come off? Will you be blue on Sunday? At church?”

“Susanna! I’m in the shower.” Eli had promised to fix the lock on the door a few weeks ago when he’d put the doorway in between the room over the kitchen and the upstairs hallway in the main house, but he hadn’t gotten to it. She’d have to remind him because right now there was no privacy in the upstairs bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“But Anna …”

“Anna,” repeated little Mae.

Susanna had brought Mae to the bathroom! Anna took a breath before she spoke; there was no need to take this out on Susanna. It was all her own fault. “Take Mae back downstairs to her father. See them out. And give them some biscuits!”

Without waiting for an answer, Anna turned the hot water knob all the way up and stood under the spray. Give Samuel biscuits? Had she really said such a thing? Was there no end to her foolishness? Samuel didn’t want her biscuits. After the way she’d embarrassed him, he’d probably never again eat anything she baked.

Anna could hear Susanna and little Mae chattering in the hall and she felt trapped. If Mae was still in the house, Samuel had to be. She couldn’t possibly get out, not with him still here.

“She has to go potty,” Susanna piped up over the drone of the shower. “Mae does. She has to go bad.”

Gritting her teeth, Anna peered around the shower curtain. The water was beginning to get cool anyway. They had a small hot water tank that ran on propane, but there wasn’t an endless supply of warm water. “All right. Just a minute. Close the door and let me get dried off.” She jumped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself. “All right, Susanna. Bring Mae in.”

Susanna pushed open the door. “There’s the potty, Mae.”

“Do you need help?” Anna asked the child. Mae shook her head.

Anna wrapped a second towel around her head. “When she’s done, wash her hands, then her face. Clean up her dress and bring her into the bedroom. We can fix her hair.” She smiled down at the little girl. “Would you like that? I never pull hair when I do braids. You can ask Susanna.”

“Anna does good hair braids,” Susanna agreed. “But I fink she needs a bath,” she told Anna. “She looks like a little piggy.”

A quick examination of the little girl convinced Anna that she wasn’t all that dirty, she’d just lost a battle with her breakfast. “We don’t have time for a bath. I’m sure Samuel needs to be on his way.”

Susanna wrinkled her nose as she looked at the little girl. “You spill your oatmeal this morning?”

“‘Frowed it. It was yuck,” Mae said from her perch.

Susanna’s eyes got big. “You throwed your oatmeal?”

“Ya. It was all burny.” She made a face. “It was lumpy an’ I ‘ frowed it.”

On her father as well, Anna realized, suddenly feeling sympathy for both father and daughter. “Well, don’t do that again,” she admonished gently, tightening the big towel around her. “It’s not polite to throw your breakfast. Big girls like Susanna never throw their oatmeal.”

“Ne,” Susanna echoed, helping the little girl rearrange her dress. “Never.” She turned to Anna. “Are you going to court Samuel?”

Anna gasped. “Susanna! What would make you ask such a thing?”

“Because Samuel said—”

“Were you listening in on our conversation, Susanna?” Anna’s eyes narrowed. “You know what Mam says about that.”

“Just a little. Samuel said he wants to court you.”

“Ne,” Anna corrected. “You heard wrong. Again. That’s exactly why Mam doesn’t want you listening in.”

That, and because Susanna repeated everything she heard, or thought she heard, to anyone who would listen. Obviously, she had misheard. They’d both heard wrong. That was why Anna had lost her balance and fallen off the ladder. She’d misunderstood what Samuel said. There was no way that he wanted to court her. No way at all. She was what she was, the Plain Yoder girl, the healthy girl—which was another way of saying fat. But was it really possible that they had both misheard?

More possible than Samuel wanting to court her!

Anna hurried out of the bathroom. “Bring her in as soon as I’m decent.”

She dashed down the hall to the large bedroom over the kitchen and quickly dressed in fresh underclothing, a shift, dress and cape. She combed her wet hair out, twisted it into a bun and pinned it up, covering it with a starched white kapp. A quick glance in the tiny mirror on the back of the door showed that every last tendril of red hair was tucked up properly.

The few moments alone gave her time to recover her composure, so that when the girls came in, she could turn her attention to Mae. Please let me get through this day, Lord, she prayed silently.

When Susanna and Mae came into the bedroom, Anna sat the child on a stool and quickly combed, parted and braided her thin blond hair. “There. That’s better.” She brushed a kiss on the crown of Mae’s head.

“She needs a kapp,” Susanna, ever observant, pointed out. “She’s a big girl.”

“Ya,” Mae agreed solemnly. “Wost my kapp.”

“Find me an old one of yours,” Anna asked Susanna. “It will be a little big, but we can pin it to fit.”

In minutes, Mae’s pigtails were neatly tucked inside a slightly wrinkled but white kapp, and she was grinning.

“Now you’re Plain,” Susanna said. “Like me.”

“Take her downstairs to her father,” Anna said. “Samuel will be wondering why we’ve kept her so long.”

“You coming, too?” Susanna asked.

Anna shook her head. “I’ll be along. I have to clean up the bathroom.” It wasn’t really a fib, because she did have to clean up the bathroom. But there was no possibility of her looking Samuel in the eye again today, maybe not for weeks. But she couldn’t help going to the top of the stairs and listening as Samuel said his goodbyes.

“Don’t worry, Samuel,” Susanna said cheerfully. “Anna wants to court you. It will just take time for her to get used to the idea.”

“Court you,” Mae echoed.

What Samuel said in reply, Anna couldn’t hear. She fled back to the safety of the bathroom and covered her ears with her hands. She should have known that her little sister would only make things worse. Once Susanna got something in her head, it was impossible to budge her from it. And now Samuel would be mortified by the idea that they all thought he wanted to court her instead of Mam.

Anna stayed in the bathroom for what seemed like an hour before she finally got the nerve to venture out. She might have stayed all morning, but she knew she had to clean up the paint before it dried on Mam’s floor. She would have to mop up everything and get ready to start painting again tomorrow, after she and Susanna went into town to get more paint. The trip itself would take three hours, beginning to end.

Anna wasn’t crazy about the idea of going to Dover alone in the buggy; she liked it better when Miriam or Mam drove. She didn’t mind taking the horse and carriage between farms in Seven Poplars, but all the traffic and noise of town made her uncomfortable.

By the time Anna got downstairs, she’d worked herself into a good worry. How was she going to get all the painting done, tend to the farm chores and clean the house from top to bottom, the way she’d hoped?

Calling for Susanna, Anna forced herself down the hall toward Grossmama’s bedroom. She pushed opened the door and stopped short, in utter shock. The ladder was gone. The bucket was gone, and every drop of paint had been scrubbed off the floor and woodwork. The room looked exactly as it had this morning, before she’d started—other than the splashes of blue paint on the wall and the strip she’d painted near the ceiling. Even her brushes had been washed clean and laid out on a folded copy of The Budget.

Anna was so surprised that she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She didn’t have to wonder who had done it. She knew. Susanna could never have cleaned up the mess, not in two days. Anna was still standing there staring when Susanna wandered in.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “I didn’t get my lunch.”

Anna sighed. “Ne. You didn’t, did you?” She glanced around the room again, trying to make certain that she hadn’t imagined that the paint was cleaned up. “Samuel did this?”

Susanna nodded smugly. “He got rags under the sink. Mam’s rags.”

“You mustn’t say anything to anyone about this,” Anna said. “Promise me that you won’t.” “About the spilled paint?”

“About the spilled paint, or that I fell off the ladder, or the mistake you made—” she glanced apprehensively at her sister “—about thinking Samuel wanted to court me.”

Susanna wrinkled her nose and shifted from one bare foot to another. “But it was funny, Anna. You fell on Samuel. He fell in the paint. It was funny.”

“I suppose we did look funny, but Samuel could have been hurt. I could have been hurt. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say one word about Samuel coming here today. Can you do that?”

Susanna scratched her chubby chin. “Remember when the cow sat on me?”

“Ya,” Anna agreed. “Last summer. And it wasn’t funny, because you could have been hurt.”

“It was just like that,” Susanna agreed. “A cow fell on me, and you fell on Samuel. And we both got smashed.” She shrugged and turned and went out of the room. “Just the same.”

Exactly, Anna thought, feeling waves of heat wash under her skin. And that’s how Samuel must have felt—like a heifer sat on him. Only, this cow had thrown her arms around his neck and exposed her bare legs up to her thighs like an English hoochy-koochy dancer.

If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never forgive herself. Never.




Chapter Three


The following morning proved cold and blustery, with a threat of snow. All through the morning milking, the feeding of the chickens and livestock and breaking the thin skim of ice off the water trough in the barnyard, Anna wrestled with her dread of venturing out on the roads. She needed to buy more paint, but she didn’t know if it was wise to travel in such bad weather. The blacktop would be slippery, and there was always the danger that the horse could slip and fall. And since she didn’t want to leave Susanna home alone, she’d have to take her, as well.

Anna considered calling a driver, but the money for the ride would go better into replacing the paint. If only she hadn’t been so clumsy and wasted what Mam had already purchased. She wondered if she could find some leftover lavender paint in the cellar. If there was any, maybe she could cover the blue splashes, and put the room back as it had been.

But the truth was, Grossmama would be angry if she found her new bedroom English purple, and Mam would be disappointed in Anna. Anna had caused the trouble, and it was her responsibility to fix it. Snow or no snow, she’d have to go and buy more blue paint.

What a noodlehead she’d been! Was she losing her hearing, that she’d imagined Samuel had said that he wanted to court her? She tried not to wonder how Susanna could have misheard, as well. It was funny, really, the whole misunderstanding. Years from now, she and her sisters would laugh over the whole incident. As for Samuel, Anna thought she’d just act normal around him, be pleasant, pretend the whole awful incident had never happened and not cause either of them any further embarrassment.

After the outside chores, Anna returned to the house, built up the fire in the wood cookstove, and mixed up a batch of buttermilk biscuits while the oven was heating. Once the biscuits were baking, she washed some dishes and put bacon on. “Do you want eggs?” she asked her sister.

“Ya,” Susanna nodded. “Sunshine up.” She finished setting the table and was pouring tomato juice in two glasses, when Flora, their Shetland sheepdog, began to bark. Instantly, Jeremiah, the terrier, added his excited yips and ran in circles.

“I wonder who’s here so early?” Anna turned the sizzling bacon and pulled the pan to a cooler area of the stove.

Susanna ran to the door. “Maybe it’s Mam and Grossmama.”

“Too early for them.” Thank goodness. Not that she wasn’t eager for Mam to get home. Her younger sisters had been away for nearly a year, with only short visits home, and she’d missed them terribly. But Grossmama would make a terrible fuss if her room wasn’t ready and the walls were still splashed with blue paint.

Susanna flung open the door to greet their visitor, and the terrier shot out onto the porch and bounced up and down with excitement, as if his legs were made of springs. Coming up the back steps was the very last person on earth Anna expected to see. It was Samuel, and he’d brought his three daughters: five-year-old Lori Ann, nine-year-old Naomi and Mae, all bundled up in quilted blue coats and black rain boots. They poured through the door Susanna held open for them. The two older girls carried paint rollers, and Samuel had a can of paint in each hand.

“It’s Samuel!” Susanna shouted above the terrier’s barking. “And Mae! And Naomi! And Lori Ann!”

Anna’s stomach flip-flopped as she forced a smile, wiping her hands nervously on her apron. “Samuel.” She looked to Naomi. “No school today?”

She pushed her round, wire-frame glasses back into place. “My tummy had a tickle this morning, but I’m better now.”

“I think we were missing our teacher,” Samuel explained. “I let her stay home. She never misses. Do I smell biscuits?” He grinned and held up the paint cans. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your breakfast, but I wanted to get an early start on those walls.”

Confused, Anna stared at him. “You wanted to get an early start? You bought paint?”

“Last night.” He smiled again, and mischief danced in his dark eyes as he set the cans on the floor. The girls added the rollers and brushes to the pile. “I just took my shirt along to the store, and they were able to match the color perfectly.”

“Good you brought paint,” Susanna announced. “Now we don’t have to take the buggy to town.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Anna gripped the front of her apron. “It’s kind of you, but you have so much to do at your farm. We’ll pay for the paint, of course, but—”

“I smell something burning.” Naomi peered over her glasses and grimaced.

Anna spun around to see smoke rising from the stove. “Oh, my biscuits!” She ran to snatch open the oven door, and used the hem of her apron to grab the handle of the cast-iron frying pan.

“Be careful,” Samuel warned. A cloud of smoke puffed out of the oven, stinging Anna’s eyes. She gave a yelp as the heat seared her palm through the cloth, and she dropped the frying pan. It bounced off the open door, sending biscuits flying, and landed with a clang on the floor. Anna clapped her stinging hand to her mouth.

Lori Ann squealed, throwing her mitten-covered hands into the air, and the terrier darted across the floor, snatched a biscuit and ran with it. In the far doorway, the dog dropped the biscuit, then bit into it again, and carried it triumphantly under the table. Flora grabbed one, too, and ran for the sitting room with her prize.

“They’re burned,” Naomi pronounced, turning in a circle in the middle of the biscuits. “You burned them, Anna.”

“Never mind the biscuits, just pick them up,” Samuel said. Somehow, before Anna could think what to do next, he had taken charge. He crossed the kitchen, retrieved the cast-iron frying pan from the floor using a hand towel, and set it safely on top of the stove. “How bad is the burn?” he asked as he put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the sink. “Is it going to blister?”

“I’m all right,” Anna protested, twisting out of his warm embrace. Her palm stung, but she was hardly aware of it. All she could think of was the sensation of Samuel’s strong arm around her and the way her knees felt as wobbly as if they were made of biscuit dough.

Samuel gently took her hand in his large calloused one, turned on the faucet, and held her palm under the cold water. “It doesn’t look bad,” he said.

“Ne.” Anna felt foolish. How could she have been so careless? She was an experienced cook. She knew better than to take anything out of the oven without a hot mitt.

“Let the water do its work.” Samuel said, speaking softly, as if to a skittish colt, and the tenderness in his deep voice made Anna’s heart go all a-flutter again. “The cold will take the sting away.”

“Does it hurt?” Susanna asked.

Anna glanced at her sister. Susanna looked as if she were about to burst into tears. “Ne. It’s fine,” Anna assured her. Susanna couldn’t bear to see anyone in pain. From the corner of her eye, Anna saw Mae raise a biscuit to her mouth. “Don’t eat that,” she cautioned. “It’s dirty if it’s been on the floor.”

Samuel chuckled, picked up a handful of the biscuits and brushed them off against his shirt. “A little scorched, but not so bad they can’t be salvaged,” he said.

“In our house, we have a five-second rule,” Naomi explained, grabbing more biscuits off the floor. “If you grab it up quick, it’s okay.”

“Mam says floors are dirty,” Susanna said, but she was picking up biscuits as well, piling them on a plate on the table.

Anna knew her face must be as hot as the skillet. Why was it that the minute Samuel Mast walked in the door, she turned into a complete klutz? She hadn’t burned biscuits in years. She always paid close attention to whatever she had in the oven. She wished she could throw her apron over her face and run away, like yesterday, but she knew that she couldn’t get away with that twice.

“Don’t put them on the table,” Anna said. “They’re ruined. I’ll feed them to the chickens.”

“But I want biscuit and honey,” Mae pouted, eyeing the heaped plate. “Yes’erday, she …” She pointed at Susanna. “She gave me a honey biscuit. It was yum.”

“Shh,” Naomi said to her little sister. “Remember your manners, Mae.”

“I can make more,” Anna offered.

“Nonsense.” Samuel scooped up Mae and raised her high in the air, coaxing a giggle out of her. “We’ll cut off the burned parts and eat the other half, won’t we?”

Anna took a deep breath and shook her head. She was mortified. What would Mam think, if she found out that she’d served guests burned biscuits they’d picked up off the floor? Pride might be a sin, but Mam had high standards for her kitchen. And so did she, for that matter. “Really, Samuel,” she protested. “I’d rather make another batch.”

“Tell you what,” he offered, depositing Mae on the floor and unbuttoning his coat. “I came here to offer you a deal. Maybe we can make biscuits part of it.”

“I … I l-l-like b-biscuits,” Lori Ann said shyly. “A-a-and I’m hungry.”

“He made us egg,” Mae supplied, tugging on Anna’s apron. “Don’t like runny egg.” Anna noticed that she was wearing the too-large kapp that she and Susanna had put on her yesterday, while her sisters wore wool scarves over their hair. Mae’s kapp was a little worse for wear, but it gave Anna a warm feeling that Samuel had thought to put it on her today.

“Hush, girls,” Samuel said. It was his turn to flush red. “They don’t think much of my cooking. Naomi’s learning, but she’s only nine.”

“Naomi’s eggs is yuck,” Mae agreed.

Naomi stuck her tongue out at her sister. “We don’t criticize each other’s work, and you shouldn’t make ugly faces,” Anna corrected. Then she blushed again. What right did she have to admonish Samuel’s children? That would be Mam’s task, once she and Samuel were husband and wife. But it was clear that someone needed to take a hand in their raising. Men didn’t understand little girls, or kitchens for that matter.

“Listen to Anna,” Samuel said with a grin. “It’s cold outside, Naomi. Your Grossmama used to tell me that if I stuck my tongue out at my sisters my face might freeze. You don’t want your face to freeze like that, do you?” Susanna giggled. “That would be silly.” “And we’re not outside.” Samuel gave Naomi a reproving look. “Sorry, Mae.” Embarrassed, Naomi looked down at her boots. Puddles of water were forming on the floor around them.

“For goodness’ sakes, take off your coats,” Anna urged, motioning with her hands. “It’s warm in the kitchen, and you’ll all overheat.”

“I’m afraid we tracked up your clean floor with our wet boots,” Samuel said.

Anna shrugged. “Not to worry. You can leave them near the door with ours.” She motioned to Susanna. “Get everyone’s coats and hang them behind the stove to dry. I have bacon ready, and I’ll make French toast. We’ll all have breakfast together.”

“What—what about b-b-b-biscuits?” Lori Ann asked. “Let me give you a hot breakfast, and I promise I’ll make a big pan later,” Anna offered. Lori Ann sighed and nodded. Samuel looked at his daughters shrugging off their wet coats, then back at Anna. “We didn’t come to make more work for you. We ate. We don’t have to eat again.”

Anna waved them to the table. “Feeding friends is never work, and growing children are never full.” She opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves, choosing applesauce, cold sweet potatoes and the remainder of the ham they’d had for supper the night before. “Susanna, would you set some extra plates and then put some cocoa and milk on to heat?”

“I—I—I l-l-like c-c-cocoa,” Lori Ann stuttered. Lori Ann had pale blue eyes and lighter hair than either of her sisters. Anna thought that she resembled the twin boys, Rudy and Peter, while Mae looked like her late mother.

Mae, in her stocking feet, scrambled up on the bench. “Me, too! I wike cocoa.”

“If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” Samuel said, but his eyes were on the ham and bacon, and he was already pulling out the big chair at the head of the table.

Anna felt better as she bustled around the kitchen and whipped up a hearty breakfast. She liked feeding people, and she liked making them comfortable in Mam’s house. When she was busy, it was easier to forget that Samuel was here and Mam wasn’t.

“I want honey biscuit,” Mae chirped. When no one responded, she repeated it in Deitsch, the German dialect many Amish used in their homes.

“Be still,” Naomi cautioned. “You’re getting French toast or nothing.”

“She speaks both Deitsch and English well for her age,” Anna said, flipping thick slices of egg-battered toast in the frying pan.

“Louise has done well with her. I know many children don’t speak English until they go to school, but I think it’s best they speak Deitsch and English from babies on.”

“Ya,” Susanna agreed, taking a seat between two of the girls. “English and Deitsch.”

“Mam says the same thing.” Anna brought cups of cocoa to the table for everyone. “She says young ones learn faster. I suppose we use more English than most folks.”

“She’s smart, your mother,” Samuel answered. “The best teacher we’ve ever had. The whole community says so.”

Anna smiled as she checked on the browning slices of fragrant French toast. This was good, Samuel complimenting Mam. Maybe Anna hadn’t ruined Mam’s chances with him, after all.

“This is a real treat for us.” Samuel sat back in Dot’s chair and sipped his cocoa. “The neighbors, and your mother especially, have been good about sending food over, but I can’t depend on the kindness of my friends forever.”

Anna brought the heaping plate of French toast to the table to add to the other plates of food and sat down. Everyone joined hands for a moment of silent prayer, and then the silence was filled with the sounds of clinking silverware and eating. Conversation was sparse until the six of them finished, and then Samuel cleared his throat.

“Anna—”

“Oh!” Anna popped out of her chair. “Coffee. I forgot. Let me get you a cup of coffee.”

Samuel smiled and shook his head. “The hot cocoa is fine. But I wanted to ask you about that trade I mentioned.”

Anna tucked her hands under her apron and looked at him expectantly.

“Gingerbread c-c-cookies,” Lori Ann supplied. “Yesterday, the kids got it in their heads that they wanted cookies. I thought we could do a deal. You make cookies with my girls, and I’ll paint the bedroom. I’d be getting the better end of the deal,” he added. “With breakfast and cookies.”

“Dat brought ginger and spices,” Naomi supplied. “They’re in my coat pocket.”

“We were out of flour and just about out of sugar. I can’t get the hang of shopping for staples.” He shook his head. “No matter how often I go to Byler’s store, I always come home without something we need.”

“Like baking powder,” Naomi chimed in. “We don’t have that either.”

Anna chuckled. “Well, lucky for us Mam has three cans. When you go home, remind me, and you can take one with you.”

“C-c-can we make—make c-c-c-cookies?” Lori Ann asked, her mouth full of French toast.

“Of course, I’ll be glad to make cookies with you,” Anna said, “but I can’t let you paint the bedroom, Samuel. That’s my job, and—”

“Ne.” Samuel raised a broad hand. “It’s settled. You’ll be doing me a real favor. What with the bad weather and being stuck in the house, my ears are ringing from the chatter these three make. Having you bake with them will be a treat for them and a nice change for me. Besides …” He grinned as he used the corner of a napkin to wipe the syrup off Lori Ann’s chin. “Maybe I’ll even get to take some cookies home for the twins.”

Anna sighed, gracefully giving up the battle. “If you insist, Samuel. I have to admit, I much prefer baking to painting, and I won’t have to climb back up on a ladder to do it.”

“Nobody’s getting back on that ladder until I’ve had a chance to repair it,” he said. “I brought another one in the back of the buggy.” He rose from the table and rubbed his stomach. “Great breakfast. Best I’ve had in months.”

What a good man he is, Anna thought, as she watched Samuel put on his coat to go outside for the ladder. And he’s a good father. Mam would be lucky to have him for a husband. Any woman would. Having him here at the table, enjoying a meal together like a family, had been wonderful, but she had to remember who Samuel was and who she was.

“Potty,” Mae said loudly. “I haf’ to go potty. Now!”

“Susanna, could you take her?” Anna asked. “And if you two would wash your hands and help me clear away the breakfast dishes, I’ll get Mam’s recipe book.”

“I can read the ingredients,” Naomi offered. “I like to read.”

“What we need to do is find aprons just the right size for Lori Ann and Mae,” Anna mused.

Now that Samuel had left the kitchen, she felt more at ease with the girls. She and Samuel’s daughters would bake cookies, biscuits and maybe even a few pies. And while the oven was hot, she could pop a couple of chickens in the back to roast for the noonday meal. It would take hours for Samuel to finish the bedroom walls, and all that work would make him hungry again. She began to calculate what would go best with the chicken, and how to keep the little ones amused while she taught Naomi the trick to making good buttermilk biscuits.

As Samuel crossed the porch, he could hear Anna talking to his girls. She had an easy way with them, and Naomi liked her, he could tell. It wasn’t fair that Naomi had had to take on so many household chores since her mother had passed. If Anna agreed to marry him, Naomi could be a child again for a few years.

Maybe he’d been selfish, waiting so long to look for a wife again. He knew there were plenty who would have taken him up on an offer, but it was important that his new partner be able to love his children and teach them. It would take a special woman to fill that role, and he couldn’t think of a better one than Anna Yoder, even if she was shy about giving him an answer.

He went down the steps, into the icy yard. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday, but despite the burned biscuits, today seemed different. Sitting at the table with Anna, seeing how kind she was to Mae, Lori Ann and Naomi, he wanted to court her all that much more. He was glad he’d worked up the nerve to come this morning.

Even though Anna hadn’t said anything about the courting, she hadn’t shut the door in his face. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Maybe she wanted more time to think about it. It was a big decision, taking on him and his family.

He paused beside the buggy and closed his eyes, breathing deeply of the cold air, letting the wet snowflakes pat against his face and lodge in his beard. He knew a father had to put his children’s welfare first, but the memory of the way Anna had felt when he put his arm around her made his throat tighten and his pulse race. How good she’d felt! And she’d smelled even better, all hot biscuits, honey and, oddly, a hint of apple blossom.

She had pretty hair, Anna did, and he couldn’t help wondering how long it was. Those little curls around her face meant that it would be wavy, even when she brushed it out. Anna was a respectable woman, a faithful member of the church, and it would be wrong to think of her in any way that wasn’t honorable. An Amish woman covered her hair in public and let it down only in the privacy of her home … for her husband to see.

He swallowed, imagining what it would be like to touch those red-gold strands of hair, to watch her brush it out at the end of the day, to have the right to be her protector and partner.

The sound of the porch door opening behind him jerked him from his reverie. “Samuel? Do you need help with the ladder?”

He chuckled, glanced back over his shoulder and shook his head. “Ne, Anna. It’s not heavy. I can get it.” He looked at the gray sky. “But I’ll put it on the porch and take the horse to the barn. It’s too nasty a day to leave him tied outside.”

“Turn him into the empty box stall,” she called. “And throw down some hay for him.”

“Ya,” Samuel agreed, smiling at her.

He was rewarded with a smile so sweet that he was all the more certain that he and Anna were meant to be man and wife. The only thing standing in his way was Anna.




Chapter Four


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,”





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