Second Chances

by Sarah Price

  Each season seemed to have its own memories, for in the springtime, they worked together to plow the family garden and plant vegetables. Anna had loved walking out to the garden in the evenings, after supper was finished and before her bedtime prayers, to see how much the seedlings had grown. Her mother usually accompanied her and they would stand, in silence, at the edge of the garden to observe its progress.

  During the spring and well into the summer, the plants would grow and produce food that would be harvested and canned, food used to feed the family for the rest of the year. Most of the work usually took place in late summer and early autumn, the kitchen absorbing the smell of whatever food they were canning: tomatoes, cauliflower, chow chow, beets, and apples. Like the day she had spent with the King family, helping to can the apples, it was a joyous time with all three of the daughters working alongside their mother. No one complained. In fact, Anna suspected that, like her, both Elizabeth and Mary had always looked forward to that time of year.

  Of course those wonderful days spent together as a family, enjoying each other’s company as they worked, may have been common while her mother was still alive, but such days would happen no longer. The family had been dispersed, and the house in Charm was now occupied by another: Freman’s family.

  With her father and Elizabeth having moved down to Pinecraft, Florida, a place that Anna had little to no intentions of visiting, Anna suddenly felt as if everything in her life was in disarray. She missed the daily routine that she had become so accustomed to, even if it meant listening to Daed and Elizabeth’s conversations that so often centered on their respected place in the community, a fact proven erroneous by the change in their circumstances. She felt as if she were homeless, wanting neither to live in Florida as a third wheel nor to remain in Sugarcreek for the sole purpose of serving her sister, Mary. She had no place in the world to call her own, and the thought created a cloud of sorrow to linger over her head.

  To make matters worse, Lydia stopped by to visit on Wednesday morning, having heard from Sara Coblentz about what had happened.

  “Such a terrible mess,” Lydia said while they sat on the porch watching the two boys chasing the barn cats in the driveway. “Whatever was she thinking?”

  Anna often wondered that herself. In hindsight, Leah’s carefree, and careless, behavior had caused the situation. The change in the young woman’s behavior while in the presence of a suitor had not escaped Anna’s attention. If only Leah had just behaved like herself and not worked so hard to attract Freman’s attention, none of this would have happened.

  “Sara told me that Freman was quite upset over the entire matter,” Lydia added. “Felt as if he were to blame.”

  “To blame?”

  Lydia nodded. “Mayhaps he feels he might have been able to prevent it, that’s what I think.” She sighed and stared toward the horizon. “Young men often feel the need to protect others, I suppose, especially women. His worry is an admirable quality and speaks highly of his character.”

  Anna fought to maintain her composure at this last comment. After all, wasn’t it Lydia herself, together with Anna’s father, who had spoken against the Whittmore family years ago?

  “Sara told me that no sooner had Freman returned to Charm than he turned around and left again!”

  Anna gasped at this unexpected news. Quickly, she tried to regain her composure, hoping that Lydia did not notice her reaction. The last thing that Anna wanted was anyone to suspect that her interest stemmed from anything more than casual curiosity. “Left again? Did she say where he went?”

  Lydia shook her head. “Nee, but she suspects he went back to Lancaster. He’s been quite open with her that he intends to return to Indiana with a bride. His determination to settle down at last and his concern for Leah can mean only one thing. Sara’s convinced he’s intent on having that young woman as his wife.”

  If only Lydia knew how her words cut through Anna! Oh, the irony! It hurt to hear Lydia discuss Freman’s fine qualities and suggest that he was more than suitable to marry Leah Musser when, eight years ago, she had asserted that he was not a good enough man to marry Anna.

  Later that evening, after Anna had put the boys to bed, she sat alone at the kitchen table staring at a small spot upon the table top as she reflected on Lydia’s words. His behavior toward her in Lancaster had softened, and for a moment or two, Anna had doubted his interest in Leah. What she had then seen as a glimmer of hope, Anna now viewed as the afterthought of a forgiving man who saw her as a future member of his extended family. It would not do him any good to harbor hard feelings toward his future wife’s relations.

  If she had wondered at how little Freman knew Leah, she knew that, if he was about to sit at her bedside during her convalescence, there would be more than enough time now for the two of them to become better acquainted. With each passing day, Anna felt more and more despondent, her grief magnified when she heard nothing more about Leah, Mary, or Freman.

  Not willing to succumb to her grief, Anna forced herself to focus on the little things around the house in order to take her mind off of the inevitable. She gave Cris Junior and Walter her undivided attention and soon developed a daily routine. In the mornings she made a game of cleaning the dishes and straightening up the kitchen. Afterward they walked down to the barn to offer assistance to Raymond. Without Cris, he was tending the chores alone. If nothing else, an hour or two of help would lighten his burden as well as occupy the boys’ time and spend their endless energy.

  Anna noticed that, without Mary and Cris around, the boys behaved much better, showing a sense of calmness and respect for authority that Anna had never witnessed before. She found that, rather than vexing her nerves, the kinner often provided her with much-needed smiles and laughter.

  In the afternoons Salome and Hannah often came down to visit, the three of them sitting outside behind the house while the two boys played on the swing set or tossed a ball back and forth.

  Anna enjoyed the adult camaraderie but found the discussions to be dissatisfying, especially since the main topic of conversation often focused on two things: the certainty of Leah’s recovery and the likelihood of Leah’s wedding.

  “Indiana! What on earth will Leah do moving to Indiana?” Salome could barely focus on her needlework. It was four days since the accident, and with the news that Leah’s recovery was progressing nicely, Salome had moved on to a new worry.

  “Maem, you don’t know that to be the case,” Hannah responded, causing Anna to wonder if she was slightly put out that it was her sister, and not her, that Freman had chosen. But then of course, Hannah had Caleb, so any discontent on her part didn’t make any sense. Instead, Anna chose to believe that Hannah wanted to be the first to marry.

  Salome sighed and turned her face toward the now empty fields. There was a despondent expression on her face, and she looked as if she had aged overnight. “It was bound to happen that one of you would move away from us. Just the realization that it could be so soon . . . ” She left the end of her sentence hanging.

  Anna tried to shut her ears to the conversation.

  Hannah too seemed bored with the constant attention being paid to a sister who wasn’t even there to appreciate it. Leaning forward, she gently tapped her mother’s knee. “Maem, tell Anna about the letter.”
r />   “The letter?”

  Hannah nodded. “Ja, from Elizabeth.”

  Now this was interesting news, Anna thought. Not once since her father and sister had left for Pinecraft had Anna received a written word from either one of them; rather, her father had directed his brief notes to Cris. It was to be expected, she realized with not the least bit of jealousy, for she had never been of the same fiber as those two. However, propriety dictated that some communication would be shared with the Mussers, a way of indirectly letting Anna know of their circumstances without burdening themselves with writing multiple letters.

  “Oh, that letter!” Salome smiled and turned her attention to Anna. “Seems they are having a wunderbarr gut time in Florida, the weather being most agreeable to your daed. Elizabeth wrote that she too is enjoying her time there and finding Pinecraft much to her liking.”

  Hannah sighed loudly. “Not that part, Maem! The part about Willis!”

  “Willis?” Now Anna’s full attention was focused on the discussion.

  “Your daed’s nephew’s son has been round to see them.”

  At this, Anna gasped. “I almost don’t believe you! Daed has disowned him ever since Willis came calling on Elizabeth before marrying another!”

  Happy to have some riveting news to share, Salome nodded her head. “It’s true, ja. His wife died, poor thing. She was sick for so long and refused treatment from Englische doctors. She wanted holistic treatment, instead.” The way that Salome said the word holistic spoke volumes for her opinion about that decision. “I heard they even traveled by train to Mexico for some treatment!”

  “Mexico!”

  Salome nodded. “Now that she’s passed, he is alone and childless. He went visiting his parents who live down there now. His daed has arthritis too. In his joints.” The reference to the arthritis reminded Anna that her father and Elizabeth had used that excuse as the main reason for leaving Charm in the first place. Leaning forward, Salome lowered her voice so that the boys couldn’t overhear her as she continued with her story. “Elizabeth says that Willis comes round almost every evening to visit with them. Your daed has forgiven him and restored him to the family’s good graces. It seems he has matured quite a bit over the past years.”

  At this part, Hannah interrupted. “He’s to visit here to check on the property,” she said, a gleam in her eyes.

  Without saying it, Anna knew what that meant. If Willis were to marry Elizabeth, the family could be restored to the farmette. A young man could work the ten acres, possibly even lease some adjourning land to expand the crop yield. No wonder that Elizabeth sounded so joyful in her letter to Salome.

  “She wrote that he’s to stop by here to visit when he returns,” Salome announced, picking up her needlepoint once again. “His aendi lives in between Charm and Sugarcreek, you know.”

  “Do you expect him soon then?” Anna was only half interested in meeting her distant cousin, but wondered what Willis could have possibly said to gain favor with her father after so many years.

  “I suspect by the weekend,” Salome said. “The letter was dated three days ago. And, if a wedding were to be announced, it would be within the next few weeks. After communion, anyway, wouldn’t you think?”

  Anna chose not to think at all. The realization that, quite possibly, not just Leah and Hannah could be married within the next two months, but Elizabeth as well, caused her a moment of angst. With everyone married, she would be the lone unmarried maedel in the family.

  That was a thought that lingered long after Salome and Hannah returned to their house. If she never married, Anna knew that she would become a burden to the families, floating from house to house in order to care for kinner and bopplies. Then, when her services would no longer be needed, she’d be forced to move in with her father down at Pinecraft, the one place she did not want to live. He’d need someone to care for him, and with two of his three daughters married, that responsibility would fall on her shoulders.

  The entire situation had become so complex in the past few weeks that Anna felt it was best to simply push it aside and deal with the situations at a later time.

  After a nearly sleepless night, her mind racing with images of being forced to move to Florida, Anna faced the morning with a new determination: to think less about the future and focus more on the current day. Who am I, she scolded herself, to challenge God’s plans for me?

  Before the two boys awoke, she sat down at the kitchen table, a cup of steaming coffee set before her as she bent over a pad of paper making a list of things to do. While Mary was away, Anna was determined to be more productive than ever, and she would start by doing the very things that Mary neglected. Just the previous evening, she had noticed that the pantry was missing essential ingredients to make bread or even pancakes. Anna knew that Mary detested going to the market, so she listed that as the first order of business for the day.

  Shortly after breakfast Anna harnessed Cris’s horse to the buggy and loaded the two little boys inside of it. They were excited to accompany her but even more enthused to learn that Anna intended to make fresh bread and sugar cookies in the afternoon. She listened to them chatter to each other, first about who would help Anna knead the bread, an argument that was quickly resolved when she informed them that she would make two loaves, instead of one. Satisfied, their attention drifted to watching the different cars that passed them, little Cris favoring the trucks while Walter preferred a red sports car instead. At one point, she let each boy hold the reins so that they too could drive the horse. To her relief, and secret pleasure, neither child misbehaved once as she guided the horse and buggy down the road.

  The market was not busy for a Saturday, and the boys ran ahead to look at the candy section. Anna had promised them each one piece if they would behave, the reward carrying enough weight so that they’d followed through on their commitment to do so. She pushed the cart down the narrow aisles, pausing to kneel down and examine a large bottle of aloe vera water. With colder weather upon them, a daily dose of the liquid would help ward off colds and the flu, so she picked one and started to stand up.

  A man stood behind her, reaching for something on the top shelf. When Anna turned around, she knocked into him and, startled, dropped the plastic container.

  “Oh, help!” she muttered, kneeling once again to retrieve it. Thankfully the plastic had not cracked.

  He too had knelt down to fetch the container and, upon doing so, their hands touched, ever so briefly.

  Anna stood up again and took a step backward. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, her eyes downcast as the color flooded to her cheeks.

  He remained silent for a moment, his eyes studying her. And then he broke out with a smile. “Cousin Anna?”

  Lifting her eyes, she tried to recognize his face. While not as striking as Freman, the young man was handsome in a more cherubic way with straight blond hair, cut in a simple manner across his forehead, and dark brown chestnut-shaped eyes. His skin was tanned, most likely indicating that he was a farmer. While, like most Amish people, she had plenty of cousins, this was one that she did not know. “Are we familiar . . . ?”

  He extended his hand, and when she reluctantly accepted it, he grinned. “Cousin Willis at your service.” He bowed, just sli
ghtly, an awkward motion that embarrassed her enough to be thankful that the store was empty. “I’d recognize you anywhere. You bear a great resemblance to your mother.”

  She gasped. “I do?”

  He laughed at her reaction. There was something contagious about his happy-go-lucky attitude. “Oh, ja! I met her twice before she passed away. I reckon you don’t remember that family gathering?”

  Immediately, she knew which reunion he referenced, for it had been just months before her mother had died. Certainly her mother must have impressed this Willis Eicher more than he impressed Anna, for she did not recognize him at all. Her manners, however, dictated that she not admit as much to him. Instead, she changed the subject.

  “I had heard that you were coming here from Florida,” she said. “Is that where you live now?”

  He shook his head. “Nee, I was just visiting my parents. They too have recently moved down there, you see.”

  Anna nodded. It was increasingly popular for older Amish couples to purchase small houses in the Pinecraft community, mirroring the Englische trend of retirees from the northern states moving down south in search of a better climate. Many people only stayed there during the harsh winter months, migrating south like the robins and finches. That was why her grandparents had originally purchased the house. Other Amish, however, were finding the climate and activities in Florida more to their liking and stayed there year-round. Without having to tend to horses, farms, or other responsibilities, their time was freed to attend Bible study, visit friends, or simply sit outdoors and enjoy the year-round sunshine. And most everything was just a battery-operated golf cart ride away, a far simpler mode of transportation than having to hitch up a horse to a buggy every time an errand was required.