Samuel stood there, frozen to the spot, until Hannah nodded. “Sit down, Samuel,” she said, sitting down. “We do have much to talk about.”
He sat at the table, holding his coffee mug between his big hands and wishing he were anywhere but here. “The last thing I wanted to do was make trouble for you, Hannah, or for your family.”
Mam motioned toward the coffeepot, and Anna took her mother’s cup and refilled it. Anna carried the steaming cup to Hannah and joined them at the table. “Mam…” she began.
Hannah shook her head. “I think we should let our guest tell us why he’s come. It’s a cold afternoon, with evening chore time coming on fast. It must be important, to bring Samuel here.”
“Ya,” he agreed. “It is. But maybe you and me should talk, Hannah. Alone?” He glanced at Anna. She looked as if she had been crying, and he felt a stab in his gut. He’d never wanted to hurt Anna. But there were Hannah’s feelings to consider, as well. Had he given the impression that he was courting her? If he had, he’d betrayed their friendship. And it wouldn’t be right for him to begin courting Anna without settling the matter.
“My Anna is a grown woman and dear to me,” Hannah replied. “Whatever you have to say, you may say to both of us.”
He nodded. “All right.” Stalling for time, he took a sip of the coffee. Somehow he swallowed wrong, coughed, and then choked, spitting coffee across the table and feeling like a total dumbkin. “Sorry,” he blurted. “I didn’t mean—”
Anna silenced him with a smile. “There is no need. It’s easily fixed.” She went to the sink, returned with a cloth and wiped the tabletop clean.
“Now, what has my sister-in-law in such a stew?” Hannah asked. Her expression was serious, but a hint of amusement lurked in her eyes.
Anna turned her gaze on her mother. “It’s a long story, but while you were gone, Samuel came to paint and—”
“Never mind the painting,” he said. “That’s not important. I’m afraid I’ve…I’ve hurt your feelings, Hannah. Did you think I’ve been courting you these past two years? If I caused you to—”
Hannah held up a palm. “Hush, Samuel. What I might have wondered and what I was certain of are two different things. You never asked, and I never did either. You’re too good a friend to me and to my daughters to let a silly misunderstanding come between us. The truth is, if you’d outright asked to court me, I would have refused. In my heart, I’m still Jonas’s wife. Maybe my love for him will always come first, but I know that as much as I care for you, it was never in that way. You’re a good neighbor, and we’ve shared laughter and tears together, but nothing more.”
“So you’re not angry with me for wanting to court Anna?”
“Ah.” Hannah steepled her hands, and Anna made a soft sound in her throat. “So it is true? You two are walking out together? Without consulting me? Without asking my permission?”
Samuel rose to his feet, knotting his hands nervously. “I wanted to speak with you. I meant to, but…” He glanced at Anna, trying to figure what she was thinking, and then looked back at her mother. “You’re right. I should have asked you.” He exhaled. “None of my reasons seem all that good, now that I think on them.”
“Sit down,” Hannah said gently. “Drink your coffee. The worst is over. Now we can talk, friend to friend, ya?”
He still wasn’t sure if he was welcome here. “Anna?” he said. “Do you want me to leave?”
She shook her head. “Ne, Samuel,” she murmured.
She looked small and helpless, and he wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her so tight that he could feel the beat of her heart, but he knew that was out of the question. Hannah might still refuse her permission, and then what would they do? Anna would never go against her family for him, would she? He wished he hadn’t come. He wished that he’d waited until he could talk to Anna again, to see how she felt.
“Widowers with children often marry girls younger than them,” Hannah said. “Clary and Moses Peachy? He had seven children.”
“But Clary was in her thirties, with a child of her own,” he said, taking his seat again.
Hannah studied her daughter for what seemed like centuries, but he knew it could have been only a few seconds. His chest felt so tight that he thought he would explode.
He cleared his throat. “Hannah, I ask your permission to court your daughter, Anna,” he said woodenly. “In every way that is proper and according to our custom. And if we suit each other, I want to make her my wife and the mother to my children.”
Hannah pursed her lips. “Was that so hard? Samuel, Samuel, you men make things more difficult for yourselves.” She cut her eyes at her daughter, who was blushing. “Now, you must ask Anna if she wishes you to court her.”
“He did,” Anna managed in a small, breathy voice. “I told him that I wanted to talk with you first and pray on it. Then I made the mistake of confiding in Dorcas. She must have told her mother last night after church, after Aunt Martha stopped by to see Samuel.” She looked at him. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I should have known Dorcas would tell her mother.”
Hannah reached across and patted Anna’s hand. “Who knew what or when they knew it isn’t all that important. My question is, did you give him an answer? Do you want him to walk out with you or not?”
A lump rose in Samuel’s throat. This was exactly why he had been putting off asking Anna. Because this was it…or could be. Right here at this kitchen table Anna could say she had no feelings for him, that she never could. And that would be the end of it. There would be no more dreams of cozy evenings in his kitchen with Anna…or sharing his warm bed with her.
Anna broke through his worries with a long sigh. Moisture flooded her beautiful eyes. “I haven’t had time to think it out,” she said.
“Have you prayed about this, Daughter?” Hannah asked.
“Ya, I have, but I’m still confused.”
“Is there no chance for me, then?” he asked, his voice sounding shaky in his own ears. “Is there someone else you’d rather—”
“I told you,” Anna said, all in a rush. “It isn’t you. You’re…wonderful. It’s me I’m not sure about.”
She thought he was wonderful. Relief turned his bones to warm butter. “I’m not too old for you?” he ventured.
Anna shook her head. “You’re exactly the right age.” She looked down at her clasped hands. “The boys my age seem so…so feather-headed to me sometimes. And you’re different…more sensible.”
“Does the thought of being mother to Samuel’s five children frighten you?” Hannah asked, taking Anna’s hand again and squeezing it. “It isn’t wrong to feel that way. Better that you admit it, if that’s how—”
“I love his…your,” she corrected. “I love your children,” she admitted shyly. “Even the twins, who find trouble like Irwin finds laziness. They are good, sweet children, all of them, and I can see how they need the care of a mother.”
He drew in a ragged breath and his heartbeat quickened. “Then why won’t you…”
Hannah raised her hand again. “Listen to her, Samuel. I think what Anna is saying is that she needs time to decide what is best to do…time to get to know you.”
“But she’s known me most of her life,” he protested.
“But as Samuel,” Anna put in. “I’ve known you as our neighbor, as our deacon, and as a member of the school board—not as…as…”
“Not as a beau,” Hannah finished. “She’s right, Samuel. You’ve dropped this on her quickly. Anna’s not had much experience at riding in a buggy with a young man, or sitting with him on the porch swing.”
“It’s a little cold for porch swings, don’t you think?” he asked.
“What I mean is, my Anna is not a flighty girl. I’ve kept her close at home, maybe more than I should have. She’s always such a help to me.”
“I know she is…must be. I mean to court her properly, but how can I, if she won’t agree…if she’s not willing?” He stood up and went to Anna’s side and looked down at her. “This has not been a decision I’ve made lightly. I’ve thought about you for a long time…prayed for guidance.” He gazed into her eyes. “Anna, I believe God intends you to be my wife.”
“Lots of people think they know what the Lord intends,” Hannah said. “It may be that this is right. But there can be no harm in waiting a little longer, so that Anna can be sure.”
Anna averted her eyes, but he could see that she was trembling.
“I think my Anna would be glad to have the opportunity to consider your proposal, but she doesn’t want to commit herself yet. Is that right, Anna?”
She nodded shakily. “That’s it exactly, Samuel. I want time.”
Disappointment made his reply gruffer than he intended. “How much time were you wanting?”
Anna cast a desperate glance at her mother.
“What if we say by her next birthday?” Hannah suggested. “She will be twenty-two on the twenty-fifth of February. Would that suit you, Anna?”
Anna nodded. “Ya.”
“And you, Samuel? Is that agreeable to you?”
“Ya,” he agreed. “I’ve waited this long, I can wait a few weeks more. But I hope that I can call on Anna…that we can spend time together before that.”
“I think that would be lovely,” Hannah said. “So long as she feels comfortable. Would you like that, Daughter?”
Anna nodded again, glanced up at him, and offered a tremulous smile. “I think I would.”
“It’s settled then,” Hannah said, bringing her hand down on the table. “And we’ll keep this between ourselves until the two of you come to a firm decision. No sense in giving Martha and the other gossips more fuel for the fire.”
“Hannah!” An older woman’s shrill voice sounded from the back of the house. “Where’s my Jonas? He can’t still be milking those cows.”
Hannah rose to her feet. “Anna’s Grossmama. She’s tired from the trip and a little confused. I should tend to her.” She smiled. “Anna, would you pour Samuel some more coffee?”
He shook his head, moving around to the other side of the table. “Ne. Best I be heading home. See what those rascals of mine are up to. Cows will need tending soon.”
“No need to run off,” Hannah assured him. “Stay and have another cup. I believe I saw a pumpkin pie in the refrigerator. You’re welcome to a slice.”
“I should be going,” he said.
“You have time for pie.” Anna got up. “I made four. There’s a pear pie you can carry home to the children.”
His mouth watered at the thought of Anna’s piecrust. He’d had a slice of Dorcas’s chicken pie the night before, and the crust was soggy. Anna’s were always good. And if Hannah was leaving them alone, there was something else he wanted to talk to Anna about. The bad thing about being a single father was that there wasn’t anyone to share the responsibility of the children. He had to make all the decisions alone, and he was thinking that Anna might be someone he could talk to about what was worrying him. If she became his wife, he liked to think they would spend lots of time talking and making decisions together.
He nodded, and before he knew it Hannah had vanished down the hall, and Anna had slid a big wedge of pie in front of him. She went to the stove and came back with the coffeepot. “Go ahead. Dig in,” she said. “I have to wait for the others for mine. After supper, I mean.” She grimaced. “Not that I don’t like pie. I do. You can see that I like just about everything.”
He paused, a forkful of pear and flaky crust in midair. “I always liked a body with a good appetite,” he said. “My Mam and my sisters. They like to eat.”
She smiled shyly. “Sometimes I feel funny, eating in front of other people. They stare at my plate…you know. Like I must be a pig to be so big.” She sighed. “But I was born big, Mam said, over nine pounds. And that wasn’t anything I did wrong.”
“Nine pounds.” He washed the mouthful down with a sip of coffee. “The twins didn’t weight that between them. Came out like scrawny little skinned rabbits. I was afraid they’d never live. Frieda had a time getting them to eat. Was months before they started looking like normal babies.”
“But look at them now,” Anna replied. “Healthy and hale, praise God. Bright boys, too.” She sat down at the table, close enough for him to make out the little specks of dark brown in her light brown eyes. He sighed, thinking what a fine figure of a woman she was.
“Those boys are a handful,” he admitted. “And…”
“Is there something?”
He nodded. “It’s what they did to Martha.”
“The cow manure in her boots?” Anna asked. The corner of her full lips twitched in amusement.
“Ya,” he said. “That.”
Anna clapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn’t suppress a giggle, and before he could stop it, he began to laugh, too. “And she stepped in it?” Anna squeaked, before breaking into a full-bodied shriek of laughter. “Poor Aunt Martha.”
He began to choke. She jumped up and slapped him on the back, and suddenly they were both roaring with laughter. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he remembered the look on Martha’s face when she pulled her stockinged foot out of the boot and stared in disbelief at the manure. “And the stink!” He snorted, and they were both off in peals of laughter again.
“I wish I could have seen it,” Anna said, when she’d gotten control of herself enough to speak again. “Poor Aunt Martha.”
“Lord forgive us,” he rasped, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “It was wrong of Peter and Rudy, rude and disrespectful.”
“Ya,” Anna agreed. “Very disrespectful. But funny to see, I’m certain.”
He burst forth with another chuckle, one so deep that it shot up from the pit of his belly. “And it’s disrespectful for us to laugh at her misery. For a deacon of the church to—” And he was off again, choking with laughter.
“For which, I’m sure, we shall both ask forgiveness in our prayers,” Anna said, in a properly meek tone. Her gaze locked with his, and he saw the twinkle in her eyes.
“Amen,” he said, wiping his eyes again. “Oh, I haven’t laughed like that in…in forever. Either you are very good for me or…”
“Very bad,” she teased.
He looked at her with new respect. He’d never realized Anna Yoder had such a sense of humor about her, or the ability to bring out the child in him. There was a lot more to this bighearted girl than tasty pie and light biscuits. There was a deep well of fun and good-natured joy. “I have to punish them, of course,” he said. “I can’t let it go—such disrespect to an older person.”
Anna nodded. “And a guest in your house. It was wrong of them.”
“They take after my father, they do,” he said. “Dat was always up for a good joke. Once he got up in the night and put something in his brother’s cow dip, so when Uncle Harry started to run his herd through the water to kill the lice in their fleece, they turned purple. He had three purple cows before he realized what was happening.”
“That, I would have liked to see,” Anna said. “Purple cows.”
“The bishop was not pleased. I can tell you,” Samuel said. “He had people visiting from Lancaster, and they asked him if his church allowed such nonsense as purple cows. Dat was in hot water at the next services.”
“So, your twins come by it honest.”
“That they do. But…” He exhaled slowly. “When Frieda was alive, the two of us used to talk out what should be done when the children needed a doctor or when they needed correcting. Usually, I wanted to talk to them, and Frieda was all for a good backside tanning. But my Dat was always light on the switching, and I never really got the hang of it. Now, with just me to make the decisions…I wonder if I’m too soft. If they get into even more mischief.”
“Our Dat never spanked us. Aunt Martha spanked me once, but never Mam or Dat.” Anna pulled a face. “I deserved it. Dorcas and I got into four plates of brownies that Aunt Martha had made for a quilting bee, and ate most of them.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine.” She wrinkled her nose. “We ate so many that they made us sick.”
He chuckled. “So, what do you think? Should I spank Peter and Rudy? It almost seems like a spanking is getting off easy, considering how bad Martha felt. And her ruined boots. I gave her money for new ones, and I’ll make the boys pay for it out of their own savings, but—”
“You’re right, Samuel,” she said softly. “It is getting off too light. They were disrespectful, and they need to learn a lesson. But I wouldn’t spank them. All that proves is that you are bigger and stronger than they are, and that you have that right.”
He put his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “So what would you suggest?”
“Well…” She looked thoughtful. “Since it was manure that caused the trouble, it might be good to send them over to clean Aunt Martha’s stable after school every day for a week. They should pay for the boots, and they should apologize to her. But hard work never hurt anybody. And spending time mucking stalls will be time they can spend thinking on how they can be better behaved children.”
“Martha expected me to give them a sound thrashing. Reuben, too. They said as much when they left. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child’, Reuben said. He is our preacher.”
“True,” Anna agreed. “He is, but you are their father. It is your responsibility to guide your children and teach them. You have to do what you think is right.”
He nodded. “Cleaning out Martha’s stable, that’s a good idea. And maybe her henhouse as well. Two boys, two chores.”
“And a proper apology,” Anna reminded him. “They have to do that. It’s important a boy learns to apologize for his failings. Learning as a child makes it easier as an adult.”
He sighed audibly with relief. It was a good decision. “You are wise beyond your years,” he pronounced.
Anna blushed as she reached for his empty plate.
“It makes me feel better, to hear what you think.”
“But you knew a spanking wouldn’t suit. You didn’t need me to tell you that.”
“I worry that my heart is too soft,” he admitted. “And sometimes with boys, a man must be hard.”
“But not too hard,” she said with a smile.
“You see, this is why I think we should court. You and I, we make a good team. We would make a good marriage,” he said, sitting up straight and looking into her eyes. “I won’t change my mind.”
“But I haven’t said yes,” she reminded him. “And I have until my birthday to come up with an answer.”
“It will have to do,” he answered. “And now, I should get home. But you have helped me, eased my mind about Rudy and Peter.”
She followed him to the door and stood there watching him as he walked to his buggy. Snow was falling again, and darkness was closing in on the farmyard. “The pie was good,” he said.
“Danke.” She smiled and waved, then closed the door.
As he drove down the Yoder lane, Samuel wondered if it had been the smartest thing for him to come by buggy. The road would be slick, and he would have to be cautious about traffic. Some of the Englishers drove like drunken chickens on ice, and not all knew how to safely share the highway with horse-drawn vehicles. He turned on his battery-powered lights and guided the gelding onto the blacktop.
Only two cars passed before Samuel drew alongside the chair shop. Near the mailbox, he caught sight of Roman clearing snow away from the driveway. Roman called out to him and waved. Samuel wanted to get home, but Roman was his friend, and he might need something.
“Some weather, eh?” Samuel said as he reined in the horse. He’d pulled into the parking area, well off the road. “Think we’ll get much more tonight?”
“Ya.” Roman leaned on his shovel. “Weatherman on the radio says maybe two inches.”
“Not too much.” He waited. Roman had something on his mind; he could tell. Roman wasn’t one to keep a man from his evening chores without reason. “Something?” Samuel asked. “Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know,” Roman answered. “Word is, you’re courting one of the Yoder girls. Noodle said—”
“Noodle Troyer talks too much.”
“So you’re not? Nothing to it?”
Samuel leaned forward and rested his elbow on the dashboard. “I want to court Anna, but she’s not certain she’ll have me.”
“Anna, then, is it? Not Hannah?”
Samuel chuckled. “It was never Hannah. I think the world of Hannah, you know that. Who wouldn’t? She’s a good woman, but I’m set on Anna.”
“It’s a lot, asking a girl that young to take on a ready-made family.” Roman leaned the shovel handle against the mailbox and came over to the buggy. “She’s a hardworker, Anna. None better. But the age difference between you might be too much. Those twins of yours are a handful.”
Samuel stroked his chin. “Not something I haven’t wrestled with, Roman. It’s time I took another wife, and she seems to me to be the best fit. I’d treat her right, be good to her.”
Roman looked thoughtful.
“You have problems with that?” Samuel asked. “You think I’m too old for her?”
“Ne. It’s just that…” Roman tugged at his knit hat. “Frieda was a real looker, and Anna…Anna’s a special girl. I wouldn’t want to see her hurt.”
Samuel tensed. “No more than I would. I wouldn’t ask her if I thought to make her second-best. I’ve prayed over it.”
“Have you thought of talking it over with the bishop?”
Samuel shook his head. “I have a lot of respect for Atlee, but I didn’t pick his wife for him, and I’d not think to ask him about choosing mine.”
A grin split Roman’s face, and he nodded. “Fair enough. It’s none of my business either, I suppose, but Jonas was my friend. If he was here, he’d be askin’ these questions. No offense meant.”
“And none taken. But in the end, it’s between Anna and me.”
“You spoke to Hannah, asked her blessing?”
“I made it clear to her how I feel about Anna. They didn’t want anything said, not until Anna is sure, but it sounds like the whole community is already buzzing.”
Roman chuckled. “Martha and Reuben are buzzin’, for sure. Reuben told Noodle he thought you’d had your eye on his Dorcas.”
“Nothing wrong with Dorcas, other than her mother, but she’s not right for me. Anna’s the one.”
“And if she turns you down?”
“She won’t,” Samuel said with more conviction than he felt. “And if she does, I’ll just have to talk a little harder to convince her to change her mind.”