by Sarah Price
But she hadn’t.
Yes, not a day had passed without thoughts of Freman Whittmore infiltrating her mind. As days turned to weeks, weeks into months, and months into years, she wondered of his circumstances. Where had he gone? What was his occupation? Had he taken a wife?
Now, however, as she snuck another look at him, her heart beat rapidly, for she realized he wore no beard. Was it possible, she wondered, that he had never married after all that time?
As if on cue, once the rest of the unmarried men were seated, all of the men reached up to remove their hats and slide them under their bench. The men in the back of the room stood up and hung their hats on metal hooks that lined the wall near the ceiling. Anna normally used this moment as her reminder to fix her attention on the Ausbund, the black chunky book that she held in her hands. It felt old, as she knew very well that it was published some forty years ago. The cover was worn and spoke of an uncounted number of hands that, over the years, had clutched the book during just as many worship services. Today, however, she could not keep her eyes from watching Freman Whittmore, sitting so proper and straight on the bench, his attention fully turned to the front of the room where no one stood yet, but where the bishop would eventually stand for his opening sermon.
The vorsinger, the young man who started singing the hymns, began the first syllable of the song, his voice lifting in the air, following an ageless and unwritten tune. When the rest of the worshippers began to sing with him, the bishop and the g’may’s three deacons stood up and left the room. Anna glanced at them, just for a second, before returning her gaze toward Freman. To her surprise, his dark eyes now stared in her direction, no emotion in his expression. While she felt certain that he knew her, for it had been only eight years, he showed no sign of recognition. At least, not on the surface.
“Anna!”
She caught her breath and glanced at the older woman seated beside her. Normally Elizabeth sat beside her, as she was one of the oldest unmarried women in the church district, second only to Kate Schwartzentruber, another older woman known for being overly righteous and rigid, her hopes of marrying gone with both her youth and her reputation. Today, however, Anna sat next to Kate. Had Elizabeth not gone traveling, she, not Anna, would have sat next to Kate, since the members of the g’may always sat in order of their age.
“Pay attention!” Kate hissed at Anna, her steely gray eyes flitting in her direction for just the briefest of moments.
Embarrassed, Anna lowered her gaze to the Ausbund and tried to find her place in the hymn that everyone else sang. Even though she knew the words by heart, she continued to follow the words in the book, her mouth moving and the words coming out while her mind wandered back to Freman.
With his dark, curly hair and deep brown eyes, he looked exactly the same as he had eight years ago. The only differences were subtle signs of aging on his face: wrinkles by the corners of his eyes and furrows in his brow. He remained as handsome as she remembered him, perhaps more so, if that were even possible. Of course she knew that memories often took on a life of their own. Surely hers had exaggerated the depth of his feelings, and despite the way her mind raced and her pulse quickened, she tried to convince herself that it had been just a spring romance between them.
“Who is that?”
The soft voice in her ear startled Anna. Without looking, however, she knew who it was: only Leah, who sat beside her, would dare to whisper during the opening hymn.
Not daring to respond, for surely Kate would have complained afterwards, and probably directly to the bishop, Anna merely shook her head, just enough to silence Leah. Yet from the corner of her eye, she saw the slight movement of the other, younger unmarried women that sat to her left. Their attention was not focused on the bishop but on the newcomer to their worship service. Anna knew she’d have to answer questions afterwards if she indicated that she knew his name.
The last thing she wanted to do was to rehash the emotions and the hurt from so long ago, especially since she had already convinced herself, in just those few minutes, that his affection had been the fleeting fancy of a young man who, clearly, had not been truly ready to settle down. Even Cris had taken her refusal in stride, quickly shifting his attention from Anna to Mary since marriage had been his main intention. For most Amish men love was not necessarily a precursor to proposals. It was more important for both parties to have a good standing in the community, a reputation for righteousness, and a hint of compatibility for the future.
Anna exhaled slowly through her mouth, willing her heart to stop beating so rapidly.
Their courtship had been so secretive. Few people had even suspected that Anna Eicher rode home from the youth singings with Freman Whittmore. In public settings Freman was always the last to voice his opinion, never quick to speak, and so when he did, people listened. As for Anna, her propensity for remaining quiet in group settings was as renowned as her kindness to individuals. Never one for gossip or judgment, Anna was known to be the quintessential Amish woman.
Unfortunately, when she was sixteen, what caused the older members of the community to observe her with respect was the very reason she walked home alone from the singings during those early months of her Rumschpringe: her reputation for shyness meant no one offered her a ride home. So she walked alone. It wouldn’t have been that way if Elizabeth hadn’t refused to attend the singings. She professed to being offended by the fast pace of the chosen songs in the youth group. As for Mary, fifteen at the time, she was too young to accompany Anna. Without either of her sisters, Anna had no choice but to walk home alone, a fact that hadn’t bothered her because she was more than comfortable in her own thoughts.
And then, one night, Freman had asked her to ride home with him.
“Kneel, Anna!”
Snapping to attention, Anna looked over at Kate, stunned to realize that everyone was kneeling before their benches, foreheads pressed into clasped hands as they began to silently pray. Quickly, she slipped off the bench and knelt down, the color rising to her cheeks as she anticipated quite the tongue scolding from Kate right after the service. Had she truly been daydreaming for so long that she missed an entire sermon and another hymn?
For the rest of the service, Anna focused her eyes on the front of the room, forcing herself to pay attention to the second (and longer) sermon. When the final hymn was sung, she sang along with the other members of the g’may, ignoring the urge to glance in Freman’s direction. There was no point in doing so, she told herself. At almost twenty-five years of age, she had lost the beauty and zest of her youth. Her skin was too tan and her hands too callused from working in the gardens. Indeed, she worked so hard that, unlike her two sisters, her hollowed cheeks lacked the cheerful roundness that most of the older Amish women touted.
Nee, like Elizabeth, her time for courting handsome young men was long expired. It would be an older man, most likely a widower, who would come calling now. And Anna knew what that meant: young children to raise and a rigid husband to mind. While she much preferred being married to her memories, she knew that the day would come when she’d have to make a decision to create new memories to replace the old.
“What ailed you, Anna?”
As expected, there had been no escape from Kate’s harsh reprimands. With her pinched nose and down-turned mouth, Kate always
appeared angry. She wore stern black dresses, even when it wasn’t worship Sunday. The dark color of the fabric drained her already pale face and made her appear even more austere. Despite her reputation for being righteous and hardworking, suitors never offered to bring her home after the singings in the evening. Instead, she could often be seen walking, alone, down the road in the gentle evening hours while all of the other young women rode by in a buggy, sharing the company of a single young man or tagging along with a group of friends.
Kate’s astute eye and sharp tongue offended many and, as such, rather than be subject to them, others chose merely to avoid her.
Anna, however, was not so fortunate.
“I’m just feeling poorly,” Anna offered as a way of excuse. “Danke for telling me to kneel.”
“You sat there like you were in another world!” Kate’s voice carried and, to Anna’s dismay, caught the attention of Mary and her two sisters-in-law. “And during worship! My word, I thought you weren’t even paying attention, Anna Eicher!”
Anna lowered her eyes, withdrawing into herself as she listened to Kate remind her of her inadequacies.
Fortunately, Leah and Hannah hurried over to join them, leaving Mary behind as the two boys hung onto her hands.
Laughing at something Hannah must have said, Leah smiled as she stood before Anna and Kate. “Good day, Kate!” she said as she reached out and shook Kate’s hand.
“Didn’t see you before the service,” Kate replied, referring to the greeting, a kiss on the mouth, that the women always gave each other in the quarter-hour before worship started.
Hannah nudged her sister. “We’d have been here on time if you weren’t so concerned with your new kapp strings.”
Leah frowned at her sister’s teasing.
From the expression on Kate’s face, she wasn’t impressed with either woman’s excuse. When she turned away, the two younger girls leaned their heads together and tittered. There was solidarity in their unity, a closeness that was foreign to the Eicher sisters.
Anna remained silent, too aware that, on the other side of the room, Freman stood with the men, meeting new people and reuniting with old acquaintances. It took all of her willpower to not let her eyes wander in that direction. When she had heard that George and Sara Coblentz would rent her father’s home, she wondered if Freman would come visiting. Such a possibility clearly existed since, in fact, they had grown up in a nearby community. With such knowledge, Anna had prayed for the strength to see him again.
Now it is done, she told herself. The worst is over, I reckon.
“Girls, Anna,” a voice said from behind her. Anna turned around, and upon recognizing Salome, she smiled. The woman accompanying Salome, however, was unfamiliar to Anna. From the strange head cover that the woman wore, far more flexible and finer in material, Anna immediately suspected that she was about to meet Freman’s sister. “I want you to meet Sara,” Salome said as she introduced her daughters, her daughter-in-law, and Anna.
“Ach, Anna!” Sara shook her hand in a friendly, warm manner. “I’m so pleased to meet you! Your daed’s haus is just lovely! We cannot tell you how inviting it is!”
“You’ve found comfort there, then, ja?”
Sara’s smile, so soft and gentle, warmed Anna’s heart. “Most definitely!” the older woman said. “George did not want to infringe on his sister’s family. Their place is rather crowded already.” She didn’t need to explain; Anna could only imagine how many people resided there. “The peace that greets us after visiting with his sister is a welcome time for reflection and prayer.” She gave a slight laugh. “No doubt we’d have lacked that elsewhere!”
Salome regained Sara’s attention. “You must come visiting then,” she said firmly. Beside her, both Hannah and Leah glanced at each other and beamed as they listened to their mother’s invitation. “We insist on sharing fellowship at our haus!”
With a pleasant nod of her head, Sara accepted the invitation. “George will be grateful, I’m sure, to get to know your husband better as I will you and your dochders.” She glanced at Hannah and Leah as if contemplating something. “His company has been limited to my bruder, Freman, as of late . . . at least after he tends his schwester. Freman will be staying with us for some time, you see.”
Salome immediately glanced in his direction, giving away the fact that she already had noticed Freman’s presence. “I wondered when I saw him,” she said, although she had clearly connected the tall, unmarried Amish man with the Coblentzes. “He must come visit too. Mayhaps for Monday dinner?” She looked at Leah and Hannah. “The girls don’t work on Monday.”
With the visitation scheduled, Salome and Sara began to talk about other things while Leah and Hannah preened themselves as they tried to catch Freman’s attention. Not once did he look in Anna’s direction, but rather seemed intent on the conversation in which he was engaged.
While no one watched, Anna slipped out the door and wandered down the lane past the long line of black buggies parked on the grass.
There would be no escaping the fact that she would be in Freman’s presence sooner or later. If she had thought she was prepared to face him, she realized how wrong she had been. She took some deep breaths as she moved away from the house, wondering how he would respond to being in her company once again. That thought stayed with her long after she found herself wandering down the road, ignoring the rumble of her empty stomach as her feet led her swiftly toward Mary’s home. If her sister were to ask her why she left before the g’may meal, she would plead a headache, knowing that Mary—oft ill with headaches herself—would have to accept such an explanation without complaint.
Chapter Four
OF ALL THE days to be ill!” Mary plopped onto the sofa, jostling little Cris far too much for Anna’s liking. It was Monday, the day of the much-anticipated visit with the Coblentzes, and the poor boy lay ill with a fever. Cris Junior deserved better treatment from his mother. Still, Anna knew better than to speak her mind. Anything construed as criticism, no matter whether or not it was intended that way, would set off her sister, spiraling Mary into the depths of her moods.
That was happening quite often lately. Already, Anna could tell that her sister was teetering on the edge: every little detail in her daily life seemed to set her off, as if everyone in the g’may, family included, even her young son, were all conspiring together to make her life miserable.
With a loud sigh, Mary tucked a quilt along the child’s small body. He rested on the sofa, his eyes shut and his cheeks pale. Despite the way that Mary pushed the quilt under him, he gave no response to his mother’s distressed comment or less-than-compassionate touch. “I’ll have to stay home now, won’t I?” Mary complained. They had been invited to dinner at the Mussers in order to meet the Coblentzes, an appointment that Mary clearly had anticipated.
Mary stood up and stared down at her son, frustration etched on her face. Unlike her sister Anna, Mary was not the subdued type, her personality neither restrained nor repressed. She was resonant and boisterous, and, to Anna’s constant mortification, thrived on being the center of attention as well as conversation. It did not make her a bad person; it just made her a loud person. Missing out on an early visit with the newcomers was definitely not something that sat well with her.
Earlier in the day, Lydia Rothberger had stopped by, spending a few hours visiting with both Anna and Mary. They sat outside, Anna working on her quilting while the other two women crocheted, as the boys played on the rusty swing set near the garden. Despite being autumn, the weather remained pleasant enough, cool during the nights and warm during the days. With the sun on the back of her neck, Anna sighed, content with both the day and the company.
However, that changed rapidly.
Walter began to fight with his older brother. Earlier in the day, little Cris had complained that he felt poorly, his lack of energy a testament to his claim. Now, no matter how much his younger brother tried to encourage him to play, Cris Junior refused. Mary set down the blanket she was crocheting and glanced in their direction.
“Whatever are they fussing about now?” When she made no move in their direction, Anna rose from her seat and walked over to the playset.
Little Cris sat on the swing, his head pressed against the chain as his legs barely pushed himself back and forth. Walter, however, tugged on the other side, eager to encourage his brother to go down the slide with him.
“What’s wrong?” Anna asked as she knelt before him. When she reached out to touch his forehead, she realized that he had a fever. “Best get you inside, Cris,” she said, taking his hand and leading her willing patient into the house where she situated him on the sofa. He hadn’t stirred since.
Now Mary rose from the sofa and stomped back to the kitchen area. She rummaged through the cabinets, found a glass, and filled it with water from the faucet for her son. Her thoughts, however, were clearly not focused on the child’s well-being but rather on her own disappointment. She sipped from the glass before heading back to the sofa. “And I was so looking forward to meeting and visiting with the Coblentz family!” she repeated.