Samuel patted the big gelding, murmuring soothingly as he lifted the front hoof to finish the shoeing job. He had the animal in cross ties in the barn, but still, he was cautious, as always, working around a creature that outweighed him by so much.
Concentrating on the job at hand usually wasn’t hard for him, but today too many other thoughts distracted him. Like Myra’s unborn baby. Like Anna, and his feelings for her.
With Mamm gone, and Joseph’s mamm passed as well, he’d thought maybe Myra would want their sister to come from Indiana at this difficult time, but she’d rejected that when he suggested it. She had her sisters-in-law, she’d said. She had Anna right here every day.
He began pulling off the old shoe. It had worn a bit unevenly, he noticed. He’d have to check the other shoes for that. A quiver went over the horse’s skin, and he leaned against the animal’s shoulder, comforting it.
Anna was here, ja, she was. He couldn’t think about her without going right back to their trip to the fair. To what had happened on the way home.
The lack of knowledge that made a driver blow a horn in the horse’s ears didn’t surprise him—that sort of thing happened often enough that he didn’t give it a second thought any longer, especially when he was driving an animal as well-mannered as Blackie. But Anna’s reaction had startled him.
It had startled her, too, he figured. Her memories and grief had overwhelmed her without warning. She’d clutched Gracie as if she’d never let go.
As for him, he hadn’t been much help to her in that crisis, now had he? Afterward, when it was too late, he’d thought of a dozen things he should have said to her. Maybe he really was as slow as Anna had always thought him.
Putting the hoof down, he straightened, stretching his back. Farriers who did this all day long often ended up bent over nearly double. He took the new horseshoe from the box.
“Komm now,” he said, running his hand down the leg, pinching the cannon bone to get the animal to lift his hoof. “Almost done.”
Ja, his day at the fair with Anna and Gracie had turned out different from what he’d expected. He’d thought they would have a pleasant day out, a chance for both of them to see how well they fit together, with no commitment on either side. Instead, a car full of careless teenagers had pushed them too far, too fast.
Well, him at least. He’d recognized, standing there feeling helpless when Anna needed him, that he’d gone beyond friendship, like it or not.
As for Anna—who knew what she felt? They hadn’t been alone together since, so maybe that in itself was an answer.
He started to clinch the nails when the barn door rattled.
“Samuel?”
The gelding snorted, jerking against the cross ties. Off balance, Samuel tumbled backward.
“Samuel!” Anna arrived at his side a second later, before he could get himself up off the floor.
“I’m so sorry.” She reached for him, her face filled with worry. “I shouldn’t have come in without checking to see what you were doing.”
She slid her arm around his waist to help him to his feet, and for a moment he let himself enjoy her embrace. Then he straightened.
“It’s nothing. I am fine.” He flexed his wrist, wincing a little. Maybe not so fine.
“You’re hurt.” Anna took his wrist in her hands, feeling it gently.
“It’s nothing. Just a little bruise.” He pushed away the temptation to let her keep fussing over him.
“I’ll get some cold water.” Before he could protest, she’d grabbed a bucket and hurried to the barn pump. She pumped furiously, filling the bucket.
In a moment she was back. She grabbed his hand and thrust his fist into the bucket. “This will help stop the swelling.”
Suppressing a smile, he sat down on a straw bale, bucket and all. “Ja, Dr. Anna.”
“Don’t laugh,” she protested, and he saw how seriously she was taking it. “I’ve caused enough trouble for people already. I don’t want to add you to my list. Especially not now.”
“It was Star’s fault, not yours.” He nodded to the gelding, now watching them as calm as he could be. “If I’d had my mind on my work, he wouldn’t have gotten away with it.”
Samuel certain-sure wasn’t going to tell her why his mind had been straying, not with her sitting next to him on the straw bale, looking at him with such concern in those blue eyes.
He forced himself to stop drowning in those eyes and concentrated on what she’d said. “What did you mean, ‘especially now’?”
“That’s what I came to tell you. One of Bartlett’s workers stopped by the house. Mr. Bartlett is coming this evening to see how the horse is coming along. If your wrist is bad, you won’t be able to show him what you’ve done with Star.” She sounded ready to weep at the thought.
“Ach, it’s okay.” He lifted his hand, dripping, from the water and flexed his fist. “See? And the gelding will do fine.” He smiled. “As long as you promise not to scare him.”
“Maybe I’d better stay far away.” She gave a mock shudder. “I wouldn’t want to jinx you.”
“You couldn’t do that.” He saw the concern that lingered in her face, and he longed to wipe it away, longed to see her smile.
“I told Myra I would bring Bartlett’s message over because I wanted to see you.” She was looking down, so that all he could see of her face was the curve of her cheek. “I haven’t properly thanked you for your kindness the other day.”
“You do not need to thank me, Anna. You were hurting. I wish I could have found the right words to make it easier for you. But I’m not so gut at that.”
“What you said was true, and I’d always rather hear truth than pleasant lies.”
Who had told her pleasant lies? he wondered. Someone out in the English world? A man she cared for?
“I’m sorry that you were frightened.”
He didn’t dare raise the question of who had told her pleasant lies. If he asked, if she answered, it would be yet another step deeper into a relationship he wasn’t sure could work for either of them.
Anna shook her head. “Maybe what happened was for the best. It made me feel how much hurt I caused when I went away. If I’m going to stay here, I have to make amends for that.”
If. The word chilled him. “Are you putting conditions on being here, Anna?”
She looked at him then. “I don’t want to, but you’re the one who said I must make amends.”
“I don’t think that’s exactly what I said—”
She shook her head, cutting him off. “Close enough, and it’s what I feel, too. Now that I know what that family went through because of me, I have to find a way to make things right with them.”
“Your father already took care of the buggy. By this time, they will surely have forgotten about it.”
Her eyes darkened. “Esther thinks they wouldn’t want to see me, so I’ve written them a letter, saying how sorry I am.” She gave a shaky little laugh. “Who would guess it could take three hours to write a single page?”
“It’s not easy to express what’s in your heart.”
Who knew that better than he did? Right now his own heart filled with caring for her, but he couldn’t find the words to express any of it.
And even if he could, should he? Anna had the baby to consider. She couldn’t take a chance on a man who might let her down.
Anna sat still a moment longer, looking at him as if waiting for something. Then she rose.
“Denke, Samuel. Thank you for listening. I should go. I hope it goes well with Mr. Bartlett.”
He should stop her. He should tell her what he felt. But doubt kept him silent.
• • •
“I heard a truck,” Myra said, glancing toward the side window that overlooked the lane and the ring where Samuel worked the horses. “It must be that Englischer, come to see Samuel about the horse.”
Anna dried the dish she was holding and detoured past the window to put it away. “It is. He’s standing by the fence, talking to Samuel.”
She forced herself to move away again. It wouldn’t help Samuel’s confidence if he thought they were spying on him.
“Ach, I pray it will go well for him.” Myra’s voice filled with concern. “Samuel was so nervous he hardly touched his supper, did you notice?”
Anna nodded. She’d noticed. She’d seen his big hands crumbling his roll instead of lifting it to his mouth. She’d begun to notice too much about Samuel for her own peace of mind.
“Samuel has such a gift with the horses,” Myra went on, apparently determined to talk about her brother. “I think it could be a business for him, don’t you?”
Anna did, but she wasn’t sure whether to say so or not. She glanced at the living room, where Joseph was sitting on the floor, playing with Sarah and Gracie.
“He wouldn’t do that as long as Joseph needs him,” she said, lowering her voice to speak under the clatter of dishes. “You know that.”
“Ja, but Joseph is better.” Myra was sounding more like her normally optimistic self tonight. “Look at him, playing in there with the little girls. He hasn’t done that since the accident.”
“We’ll probably have to help him up off the floor when he’s done.”
Myra giggled. “You’re right. And he won’t like it, ain’t so?”
That little giggle did Anna’s heart good. “We’ll make him behave, the two of us.”
Myra nodded, her hand stilling on the cloth. “He’s been so worried about me he’s practically ferhoodled these days. But that must stop. I’m fine now.”
Myra could hardly be fine, but if she was adjusting to the news, that was a relief. She’d seemed so quiet and stunned at first that they hadn’t known what to do. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Ja.” Myra ran her hand over her belly, smiling a little. “It’s so foolish to worry. God will take care of our little boppli, I know.”
Anna wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Was Myra trying to convince herself that the test had been wrong? Surely not.
“I’m sure God will be with you and the boppli,” she said finally.
Myra put another dish in the drainer, her lips still curving in a smile. “I love him already, you know. I feel as if my love protects him.”
“Ja, I know.”
This was bringing back memories. Jannie, convincing herself that all the tests were wrong, that she would be well and healthy, that Pete would give up his drugs, that they’d live happily ever after.
“You feel that way about your Gracie,” Myra said. “At first I didn’t know what to think when you told us she’d been born to your friend, but now I see that you love her just as much as if you’d carried her, like I am carrying my little boy.”
“Did the doctor say the baby is a boy?” Anna didn’t remember anyone saying the baby’s sex. In fact, she’d thought Myra and Joseph didn’t want to know.
“No, but I can tell.” Myra caressed her stomach again. “I know.”
Alarms went off in Anna’s head. Myra’s grief would be all the worse if she convinced herself of things that weren’t true.
“You know, in those booklets the doctor gave us, it mentions a woman at the clinic who counsels patients.” Now that Anna thought about it, that was probably the woman Leah had mentioned. “Maybe it would be a gut idea to go and talk with her a time or two.”
“Ach, I don’t need that. I have you to talk to, and Joseph. I’m fine.”
“Myra . . .”
But Myra had walked over to the window. “Look, Anna. Samuel is working the horse now. Oh, he looks fine. You’d never know that gelding was the same skittish animal, would you?”
Anna joined Myra, standing back from the window so that Samuel would not catch their faces pressed against the glass. She could see Samuel perfectly well from here—his shoulders broad under his blue shirt, his black suspenders crossing them. He wore his straw hat, but even with the shade it cast she could see the intent look on his face as he worked the horse.
“He’s done such a professional job with the gelding. I hope Mr. Bartlett appreciates it.”
Myra clutched Anna’s hand, as if that would make the watching easier. “I know I’m prejudiced because he’s my brother, but Samuel really is a fine-looking man, don’t you think?”
Since that was just what she’d been thinking, she could hardly argue, so she nodded. “He has a lot of character in his face.”
“Everyone sees that, I think. Everyone but him.” Myra’s eyes misted over. “When our father left, it seemed like he took all of Samuel’s confidence with him. I’m afraid Samuel fears he’s like Daadi. Unreliable.”
Everything in Anna rose to deny that. “That’s just nonsense. Everyone knows how responsible he is. Why, look how he’s taking care of the business. He’ll even give up working with the horses if Joseph needs him.”
She was giving away feelings she hadn’t even known she had, speaking so heatedly in Samuel’s defense. But surely anyone who knew Samuel well would say the same.
Who was she kidding? She had feelings for him. If she were free to follow her instincts . . .
But she wasn’t. She glanced into the living room. Gracie stood, a red ball in one hand, attempting to throw it toward Joseph. Instead it slipped from her grasp when she flung her arm up, falling behind her. She spun around, wobbling a little, looking at the ball with round-eyed surprise.
Anna’s heart clenched with love. She couldn’t follow her instincts where Samuel or any other man was concerned, because her daughter came first. Maybe she understood, better than she had thought at first, Myra’s frantic need to believe her baby was all right. The love of mother for child was elemental.
If she stayed, if Samuel was interested and willing to commit . . . Well, those were all huge ifs. How could she be sure that this life was right for her baby? And how could she be sure that her own rebellious spirit wouldn’t wake and demand freedom again?
As for Samuel, he seemed to have backed away from the feelings he’d shown the night he kissed her and from the intent she’d sensed when he’d asked her to go to the fair. She’d thought then that he was imagining them as a family. She’d thought that a relationship was there if she wanted it.
Since then, her sense had been that he’d backed away. Even today, in the barn, she’d thought he was going to express his feelings, but he’d fallen silent.
Maybe he felt that was for the best. Maybe neither of them was ready for anything more than friendship.
• • •
Celebration seemed to hang in the evening air, mingled with the spicy scent of the marigolds planted along the edge of the back porch. Anna glanced at Joseph and Myra, sitting side by side on the porch swing. They looked . . . contented, that was the word. Despite all the trials of the past weeks, at the moment they were simply thinking of Samuel.
“So the Englischer, he was pleased,” Myra prompted Samuel, sounding like a child who wants to hear a favorite story again.
Samuel leaned back against the porch post from his perch on the top step, setting aside the plate that had contained a slice of apple crumb pie. He glanced at Anna, as if inviting her to smile with him at Myra’s moment of happiness.
“Ja, Myra, he was most pleased. He said he would recommend me to his friends.”
“And he paid well,” she prompted.
“He paid well.” He grinned. “He paid well enough to make up for any customers I lost us in the shop while Joseph was out.”
“Don’t be ferhoodled,” Joseph said. “You’ve done fine, you have.”
“With Matthew’s help, and your daad’s. That boy has a gift for mechanics. He fixed that automated sander from the carpentry shop without advice from anyone. I’d have been asking Joseph, if it was me.”
Anna leaned back in the rocker. She ought to gather up the dessert dishes and coffee cups, but she lingered, listening to the soft voices and watching the lightning bugs rise from the grass.
“Bartlett wants me to go along to the auction at New Holland with him. Help him pick out a young horse to train for driving. He has a fancy to get a buggy.” Samuel paused, frowning a little. “I’m not sure if I should. It takes a lot of time to school a young horse.”
Was he thinking again that he had to give up what he wanted for others? Surely not. “It must not take more than retraining one that’s already been spoiled, like Star. You did wonderful gut with him,” Myra said.
“That’s right.” Joseph jumped in on her words. “You’ll take the time you need for it. It’s important. And besides, I’m doing better every day, ain’t so, Myra?”
She nodded, patting his knee. “You’ll soon be all well.”
It was what Myra would say to Sarah if she bumped her head, but Joseph didn’t seem to notice. For that matter, Joseph and Samuel also didn’t seem to notice that there was anything wrong with Myra’s sudden cheerfulness. They both loved her and wanted so much to see her happy that they didn’t look beyond the surface.
Anna would like to believe it, but she couldn’t. She studied Myra, who was talking now with animation about something Sarah had said that day. All that easy chatter . . . that wasn’t Myra.
Anna would have to do something. Talk to Joseph. Or maybe Samuel would be better. He was her brother, after all. Yes, Samuel was the one. She didn’t want to worry Joseph if there was no need. Surely together she and Samuel would be able to convince Myra to talk to the counselor.
Joseph stretched, yawning. “I’m ready to go in, I think.”
“I’ll go with you,” Myra said, standing. When Anna started to move, she waved her back to her seat. “Stay, no need to go in yet. Talk to Samuel.”
Once the door closed behind them, Samuel gave a soft chuckle. “My sister, the matchmaker. Just ignore her. You don’t have to stay out here if you have something else to do.”
Anna shook her head. “It’s a beautiful evening. I hate to go in.”
“Ja.” Samuel glanced out across the darkening fields. “We won’t have too many more warm evenings like this to enjoy sitting out.”
She tilted her head back to look up at the half-full moon. “It reminds me of when I was little. Everyone would gather on the back porch in the evening after chores, and I’d beg to be allowed to stay up later. ‘Just five more minutes, Mammi.’”
“And she let you.” His voice was warm, as if he had memories like those, too.
“Ja. I’d be so sure I could stay awake, but of course I couldn’t. I’d drift off to sleep with their sweet voices in my ears.”
She wasn’t sure how it happened. One moment she was fine, and the next her voice choked and tears threatened to spill over.
Samuel swiveled toward her. Without saying anything, he reached out and took her hand. His was work-hardened and warm, but so very gentle. His fingers moved on the back of her hand, caressing it, sending waves of comfort through her.
“You are missing your mamm,” he said finally. “I know. I feel that, too.”
She nodded, not sure she could trust her voice to speak. She just held on to him, letting his strength and comfort flow through her, until the tightness in her throat eased and she could speak.
“She was so patient, always. She took such joy in every little moment with each of us.”
He clasped her hand gently. “That’s the kind of mother you want to be, ain’t so? The life you want for your daughter, too.”
“I guess so.” What he said was true, wasn’t it? Certainly that she wanted to be at least half the mother Mammi had been.
Exasperation with herself welled in her. Why couldn’t she just decide, once and for all, that this was the life she wanted for herself and her daughter?
Samuel’s fingers tightened on her hand. “Anna . . .” He hesitated, as if searching for words.
She had to stop him before he said something that would change things irrevocably between them. “Myra,” she blurted out the name. “We have to talk about Myra.”
She felt the surprise that went through him at the abrupt change. Felt him hold back for an instant and then accept.
“What about Myra? She seems better today, ja? I am so relieved that she’s adjusting.”
“Adjusting? She’s not adjusting at all. Don’t you see that?”
He let go of her hand then, frowning. “But she seems happier, more like her old self.”
“That’s just it.” Anna leaned toward him, willing him to believe her. “That’s not normal. She can’t simply get over news like this all in a moment.”
He mulled that over, not responding right away, his face in the dim light giving nothing away. Finally he shook his head.
“I don’t know, Anna. Don’t you think it’s possible that she’s prayed and has come to some peace about the boppli’s condition?”
If only that were true. “But she hasn’t. When we talked, she as gut as told me that the doctor is wrong. She said she’s sure that the baby is a boy, and that he’ll be fine.”
She saw Samuel absorb the impact of her words. His face tightened, the skin seeming to draw against the bones. “Have you told Joseph?”
“Not yet.” She shook her head. “I hate to upset him just when he’s starting to improve. But I think she needs to talk to someone about it. There’s a counselor at the clinic, a woman Leah knows. But Myra insists she doesn’t need to see her.”
Again he was silent. She expected herself to be impatient with him, but she wasn’t. His lack of reaction didn’t mean that he didn’t understand or that he didn’t care. It was simply Samuel’s way.
“I’m not convinced you’re right,” he said slowly. “But I know we can’t take a chance. We must all help her. Joseph, Leah, you, and me. But mostly you, I think.”
“Me? Why me?” Did Samuel really want to trust his sister to her?
He took her hand again, holding it in a warm, insistent clasp. “You’re the woman who is closest to her right now. She counts on you. I know you will help her. Ain’t so?”
She nodded slowly, but somewhere deep inside a seed of doubt began to open. How could she help Myra face the truth? She had enough trouble doing that herself.