Second Chances

by Sarah Price

  “I’ll tend to her, ja,” she readily agreed.

  Freman tipped his head toward her, an acknowledgment of his grateful appreciation for her sacrifice. Then, returning his attention to Cris, he said, “I shall go make the arrangements then,” and hurried to leave the room. She suspected that he was going across the road to borrow the neighbor’s phone because the Esh family did not have their own. Freman would want to contact Bishop Troyer and his companion to alert them about the situation.

  “What’s this about, then?”

  All eyes turned toward Mary as she descended from the second floor and saw the three of them gathered together. Pausing at the bottom step, she looked from one to the next to the next. Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, an indication of her dismay at being excluded from their discussion and decision-making process, but for once she remained silent.

  Cris took a deep breath before he moved in her direction. “We’ve been discussing our plans, Mary. It has been decided that Anna will stay to tend to Leah,” he said. “I shall stay too.”

  Her feet stopped moving and Mary stared at him as if he were speaking in a foreign tongue. “I don’t think I understood you correctly,” she said. Her statement was clearly rhetorical. “Why on earth should you stay?”

  “I am, after all, her bruder.”

  “And I her schwester and your fraa,” she quickly added, taking that last step so that she no longer stood on the staircase.

  “Why would I go home without you?” Her eyes darted to Anna. “And why should Anna stay? She is nothing to Leah! Not like me. If anyone should stay, it should be me! I am her sister too!”

  Anna watched the rising of Cris’s chest as he took a deep breath. Clearly Mary was trying his patience. Again. “Now, Mary, it makes perfect sense that Anna should stay. Hannah can hardly walk into Leah’s room without bursting into tears. Besides, Maem will need Hannah to comfort her.”

  “So you have decided . . . behind my back, nonetheless! . . . that I should return to Ohio without you? You would leave me to myself, to sit and worry about our dear Leah?” She wagged her finger in the air. “I think not!”

  “Mary . . . ” Cris attempted to calm down his wife, but she would have none of it.

  Lifting her hand, she stopped him before he could say another word. “I find this a grave injustice. Once again, decisions are made without my consultation and my consideration . . . nee, my emotions . . . are not taken into account! How could I possibly walk away from that injured dove with any sense of conscience?”

  “The kinner— ”

  “—Are just fine in the care of their grandparents,” she interrupted. “And they prefer Anna’s company anyway to mine! They’ll be just fine if she tends to them while you and I nurse Leah back to health!”

  Anna shook her head. For once, she felt compelled to stand up to her sister. “Nee, Mary, you should go home to little Cris and Walter . ”

  “I insist upon staying!”

  “I do not have a good feeling about this.” Anna felt herself weakening under Mary’s vehemence.

  “Frankly I would find it rather inappropriate for you to stay here anyway!” Mary added, casting a glare in the direction of her husband. “Without a female chaperone in a house with a single man?” She clicked her tongue as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Scandalous, to say the least.”

  “Rebecca is here,” Anna countered, a bit more forcefully than she usually spoke. “I dare say she is married, ja?”

  Mary lifted her chin and stared at Anna, clearly unappreciative of her sister’s defiance. “Married or not, Rebecca is not Leah’s family.” She narrowed her eyes and added, “And since you are neither married nor family, you cannot stay here with her.”

  And with that last cutting remark, a hurtful reminder of what Mary liked to make so obvious, Anna looked away. She resigned herself to the fact that Mary would, once again, get her way. Forcing herself to bite her tongue and hold back from replying, Anna said a silent prayer that God properly watch over Leah, because she doubted that Mary would.

  Indeed, Rebecca kept watch over Leah till midnight. Then, through the early hours of the morning, Anna sat by Leah’s side, praying fervently for her well-being. She prayed that God would guide Mary to focus her attention on the young woman, and not herself for once, while Leah healed. She felt a pain in her stomach knowing that, already, Mary was being negligent to her proclaimed sisterly duties. Instead of taking a night shift, Mary had quickly voiced her intentions of getting a good night’s sleep, telling Anna to wake Cris when she left at four o’clock in the morning.

  In the hush of early morning Anna heard Jonas and Rebecca awake and move about the kitchen, speaking softly to avoid disturbing their guests. When the smell of freshly brewed coffee began to permeate the house, Anna heard the kitchen door open, likely Jonas heading to the barn for morning chores. She also heard footsteps overhead and suspected that Hannah and Freman were awake, preparing for the journey back to Ohio. A few minutes later she heard a man’s footsteps on the stairs, and once again the door opened and closed. Certainly, she thought, that was Freman, ever so thoughtful to offer his assistance to Jonas.

  A half hour later, Anna heard the sound of an engine and tires rolling over the gravel outside, then the muffled thump of van doors slamming. The driver must have arrived. After leaning over to plant a soft, unseen kiss upon Leah’s forehead, Anna rose to her feet and departed the room, her already packed suitcase in hand.

  Freman stood in the living room, his own travel bag at his feet. Upon hearing her footsteps, he turned.

  “Where are Hannah and Mary?” Freman asked as he stood there, confused by the presence of Anna with a suitcase. “Why is your bag packed?”

  It dawned on Anna that, the previous evening, he had returned to the house after the decision was made for Mary to stay. Clearly, no one had thought to update him on the plans.

  “Hannah must be upstairs still. Getting ready.” She paused and lowered her eyes. “Mary decided it was best if she stayed in my place to care for Leah.”

  He appeared confounded by her simple explanation. “That wasn’t what we agreed upon.” The sharpness of his words lacked the warmth from the previous day. “You had stated you would stay.”

  His displeasure more than apparent, Anna wondered if he thought that she had intentionally abandoned Leah. “Mary was rather adamant,” she offered meekly.

  “Indeed.”

  Knowing that he was dissatisfied with the situation, and no words from anyone would change that, Anna excused herself and tiptoed up the stairs to awaken Cris and tell Hannah their driver had arrived. Her heart felt heavy as she returned downstairs.

  In the kitchen Rebecca pressed a bag of sandwiches into her hand, “for breakfast or lunch,” she said. Benjamin and Jonas took a break from the milking to see their visitors off. With quick hugs and tears of good-bye, Anna left the Eshes’ home and headed to the awaiting van. Moments later Hannah joined her in the backseat, but after making a few comments about the journey ahead, she fell silent, exhausted by yesterday’s events and still worried over the health of her sister.

  With the sun not yet up, and most people still asleep except dairy farmers and early morni
ng travelers, the driver headed down mostly empty roads. In the front of the van, the bishops talked to Freman, inquiring further about Leah and her condition. Anna sighed and pressed her head against the window, staring outside at the darkness. While it had been a wonderful visit and a welcome interruption to her daily life, the memory of Leah’s accident—her lifeless body in the middle of the field—lingered in her mind.

  She wondered whether as a result of the accident Freman might have realized the value of a persuadable mind. Had Leah listened to the others, permitting them to convince her that her reckless actions might be harmful, she might have escaped injury as well as the inconvenience forced upon her companions.

  For a moment, Anna felt a sense of absolution for having a persuadable temperament, even if she regretted the emotional depths of pain it had inflicted on both parties. But to what extent could one allow oneself to be persuaded to act this way or another without compromising one’s free will and personality, both considered, after all, unique gifts from God?

  Years back, she had been shopping at the local fabric store when she overheard two Englische women commenting that Amish women were so submissive and obedient. That remark had stayed with Anna ever since. At the time, she had felt resentment swelling within her chest and wished she had the courage to address their incorrect observation, for contrary to the belief of the outside world, Amish people, including women, were not made from a cookie cutter. However, despite the ridiculous nature of their perception, Anna knew that reacting to it and addressing the women would be more than just plain rude (and certainly not an Amish thing to do); it would also convey a sense of pride, something Anna would not tolerate in herself.

  But now, she was not so sure anymore. Had she been too submissive and obedient when she rejected Freman’s proposal so many years ago? Or had she done so out of respect for the opinions of her elders? She had been so young at the time; how was she to know that her father and Lydia’s opinions might be prejudiced? That their opinions were meant to persuade her to do something that benefited them more than her?

  Then a new thought dawned on her: Was she just afraid of or uncomfortable with saying “no”? If so, she wondered if that was a flaw in her character as a result of her upbringing. Even worse, and the very thought of it tormented her, had her religion and her profound devotion to Scripture made her overly submissive, unable to stand up for what was right and good? Her experience with Mary seemed to say so. Not only did Mary always demand her own way, Anna always let Mary have her own way, even when it hurt someone else, like Leah, when she did so.

  No wonder that, earlier that morning, Freman had viewed her actions with dismay and even disgust. She had not stood up for Leah, allowing Mary to get her way, once again. Surely it had reminded Freman of her inability to stand up for him so many years ago. The realization of how so much of her life had been guided by the coercion of others caused her cheeks to flush with shame. Tears burned at the corner of her eyes, and she turned her head to look out the window, blinking rapidly in the hope that no one would notice the tears that threatened to trickle down her cheeks.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE RETURN TRIP felt much shorter than their previous journey from Holmes County, Ohio, to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, perhaps because the excitement and anticipation of the previous Thursday were now replaced with worry and silent prayers. While Anna was looking forward to returning home, anticipating the comfort of a regular routine and having missed the two boys, she remained anxious about having left Leah behind.

  While she felt confident that Leah would recover in no time, Anna spent the majority of the drive fretting over having left the injured woman in the care of Mary. Silently Anna was forced to admit that she worried because of Mary’s inability to think of others before herself. For so many years Anna had quietly excused her sister’s behavior, since Anna’s personality shied away from confronting or arguing with others. She was, she realized, a pleaser; a person who wanted nothing more than to keep others happy, and with that, she had lost the ability to stand up for her own opinions for fear of offending others—especially her own family. Now Anna recognized that this gave her family the power to easily persuade her to do their bidding rather than seeing to her own needs or desires or the needs or desires of others outside the family. What Anna had once viewed as heroic unselfishness, mirroring her own mother’s personality, she now suspected might actually have become a fatal weakness.

  Rebecca had packed a bag of sandwiches and some fruit for the travelers so that they would not have to stop along their return trip for a meal. Anna had lost her appetite and declined to take one of the sandwiches. Only at Bishop Troyer’s insistence had she finally accepted. Without having to stop, except to refuel the van, they made much better time. Indeed, Rebecca’s thoughtfulness was greatly appreciated when, well before noon, the van pulled off the main road at a clutter of mailboxes and drove down the driveway to come to a stop in front of the Mussers’ house.

  Anna glanced at Freman, knowing that he was bracing himself for relaying the news of Leah’s injury to the Mussers. He had been especially quiet during the long drive, his face turned toward the window and his hand pressed under his chin. She hadn’t been able to read his expression, but she knew that his thoughts were focused on Leah. His concern remained deep and his mood dark. While he had not said such in so many words, she could tell he had been greatly upset at learning that Mary, and not herself, was to stay behind to tend to Leah.

  She saw Freman take a few deep breaths before he reached for the door handle and swung the door open to exit the van. Hannah, who still was prone to weep for her sister, leaned against Anna, both of them watching as Freman walked up the front steps, Bishop Troyer trudging along behind. They had all agreed that the bishop’s presence would help reassure Salome that Leah had not sustained any long-lasting head injuries.

  While the two men informed Salome, for Raymond was still out in the fields working, Anna and Hannah quietly stood outside, watching as the driver removed their luggage from the back of the van. They waited until Bishop Troyer and Freman reappeared, their faces pale and drawn from the stress of dealing with an upset mother.

  “She’ll be fine,” Freman said to the two women before he returned to his seat in the van. “But you best go to her. She’s quite shocked with the news.”

  Anna nodded and started walking to the house, pausing to wait for Hannah to catch up. She understood Salome’s reaction; it was frightening to have a child, no matter how old, injured. And, of course, it was not uncommon to hear of head injuries that were fatal. The Amish grapevine often spoke of a child killed after being kicked by a foul-tempered mule or high-spirited horse. Occasionally an adult would be the one who died after falling from a high place while doing maintenance on a house or barn.

  As expected, Salome wanted to immediately travel and tend to her daughter, her distress only heightened when she learned that Mary, not Anna, had stayed behind. With both Anna and Hannah to comfort her, however, she finally calmed down, if not for her own sake than to avoid alarming the two kinner who, upon hearing the van in the driveway, had run through the fields back to the house. They had been helping Raymond with dragging the fields, their job to run ahead of the mules and pick up any rocks or sticks in the way. They had happily abandoned their work to greet their returning aunts.

  Neither seemed particularly disturbed that their parents
had not returned with their aunts. Instead, they clambered onto Anna’s lap, both vying for her attention, a welcome distraction from Salome’s tears of concern for Leah.

  After ensuring that Salome was fine, Anna focused her attention on little Cris and Walter. She took them back to the house and set about preparing their noon meal while they played inside with a set of wooden farm animals. Their laughter and chatter warmed Anna’s heart, even if she found it surprising that they didn’t ask more than once about when their parents might return. Despite her vague answer, for she truly didn’t know the exact date, neither child reacted negatively.

  As Mary had correctly predicted, their favor toward their aunt far exceeded that of their mother, a realization that saddened Anna when she thought of what Mary so carelessly neglected. What Anna would have given for her mother to still be with her!

  Even though she knew that heaven had welcomed her mother, Anna missed her dreadfully, especially at times like these. Sometimes Anna found herself fighting anger over a life cut short far too soon, especially for such a kind-hearted and loving woman as her mother had been.

  Anna thought of her often, sometimes reliving the memories that she had, memories that she cherished and the only comfort she had left of her mother.

  She remembered spending the cold winter months seated by the wood-burning stove at the small house in Charm. Entire afternoons were occupied by embroidering linens or quilting small blankets, items that would be given as gifts to brides during the next season or offered to new mothers for their babies. Sometimes, if there was an excess of items, Mother would take them to a local store, leaving them there on consignment so that the store owner could sell them to tourists during the season. But there wasn’t a lot of money in that, nor did the Eichers’ g’may support the idea of pandering to tourists.