Anna's Gift. Emma Miller
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laugh, too. Great belly laughs rolled up from the pit of his stomach. “We did spill the paint, didn’t we?” he managed to say as he looked around the room at the mess they’d made. “We spilled a lot of paint.”
“A lot,” Susanna agreed.
Mae stared at him with her mother’s bright blue eyes and clutched the older girl’s hand. The fearful expression in his daughter’s wide-eyed gaze made him want to gather her up in his arms and hug her, but in his state, that was out of the question. Two painted scarecrows in one house was enough; the hugs would have to wait until later.
“Susanna, could you go and see if your sister is hurt?” Samuel asked. His first instinct was to follow Anna to see for himself that she was okay and to assure her that she had no need to be embarrassed. Anyone could have an accident, and the wooden ladder had obviously seen better days. But he’d heard her run up the stairs, and it wouldn’t be seemly for him to intrude on her. With her mother out of the house, he had to show respect and maintain proper behavior. If he was going to court Anna, he was going to do it right and behave the way any man courting her would be expected to.
“Ya,” Susanna agreed. Still giggling, she trotted off with Mae glued to her skirts.
Turning in a circle, Samuel exhaled and wiped his hands on his pants. The way he’d been swimming in the paint, they were a total loss anyway. He rubbed a bruised elbow and the back of his head as he studied the floor, the wall, and the broken ladder. How, he wondered, had so much paint come from one gallon?
This was a fine barrel of pickles.
After putting it off for so long and practicing his proposal of marriage to Anna over and over in his head, it had gone all wrong. It couldn’t have gone worse. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he certainly hadn’t thought the statement of his intentions would frighten her so badly that she’d fall off a ladder, or drop into his arms—although that had been a pleasant interlude. He didn’t know why sweet Anna had been so surprised, or why she’d run away from him. He hoped that it wasn’t because the idea of marrying him and instantly becoming the mother of five children was so preposterous.
Samuel picked up the paint can and set it upright—there couldn’t have been more than half a cup of paint left in the bottom. The room was a disaster. He decided he’d better get a start on cleaning it up before the paint began to dry. If he was lucky, maybe Anna would come down and join him and they could talk. He would need rags, a mop and maybe even a shovel to start wiping up the excess paint, but he didn’t have the faintest idea where to find them.
The first thing he needed to do, before he went looking for the supplies, was to take his shoes off so he didn’t track paint through the house. Setting the ladder upright, he sat down on the lower rung and began to unlace his brogans.
Samuel wondered if he’d gone about this all wrong. The custom was for the suitor to ask a go-between to talk to the girl’s family before a proposal of marriage was formally offered. But with Anna’s father dead and not a single brother, that left Hannah as the sole parent. Samuel supposed he could have approached Anna’s uncle by marriage, Reuben Coblentz, but that would have involved Reuben’s wife, Martha. Reuben didn’t scratch until Martha told him where he itched. Plus, Hannah and Martha didn’t always see eye to eye, and Hannah had made it clear that she didn’t care for her late husband’s sister interfering in her personal family matters.
That left speaking directly to Hannah before he approached Anna, but he’d decided against that because he was afraid that Hannah might have misconstrued his previous regular visits to the Yoder farm. There wasn’t any doubt in Samuel’s mind that most of the community thought that he was courting Hannah, or at least testing the waters. It could well be that Hannah thought so, too, and he didn’t want to make matters worse by embarrassing her, maybe even hurting her feelings. Samuel liked Hannah, and he always enjoyed her company, but there was no comparing the warm friendship that he felt for her to his keen attraction to Anna.
What Samuel and his late wife, Frieda, had had was a comfortable marriage, but his father and her family had arranged the match. Samuel had been willing because it seemed such a sensible arrangement. He thought Frieda would make a good wife, and he’d always been reluctant to go against his father’s wishes.
He’d been just nineteen to Frieda’s twenty-three when they wed. Everyone said that it was a good match, and he could remember the excitement of their wedding day. Neither of them had expected romance, but they’d come to respect and care for each other, and they both adored the children the Lord sent them.
When Frieda’s heart had failed and he’d lost her, he’d genuinely mourned her passing. But Frieda had been gone a long time, so long that he sometimes had trouble remembering her face. And he was lonely, not just for a helpmate, not just for a mother for his children, but for someone with whom he could open his heart.
If he was honest with himself, Samuel reckoned he’d been attracted to Anna for at least two years. Just seeing her across a room gave him a breathless, shivery thrill that he’d never experienced before. Oh, he wasn’t blind. He knew what the other young men in the community thought about Anna. She wasn’t small or trim, and she didn’t have delicate features. Some fellows went so far as to make fun of her size. Not where Anna could hear, of course, or him either. He would have never stood by and allowed such a fine woman to be insulted by foolish boys who couldn’t see how special she was.
In his heart, Samuel had always admired strong women. Other than Frieda, who’d been the exception, every girl he’d ever driven home from a singing or a young people’s gathering had been sturdy. His mother, his sisters and his aunts were all good cooks and mothers, and all of formidable size. Like Anna, they all had the gift of hospitality, of making people feel welcome in their homes. And regardless of what anyone else thought, he appreciated Anna Yoder for who she was. “Big women have big hearts,” his father always said, and Samuel agreed.
For longer than he wanted to admit, Samuel had been watching Anna and trying to convince himself that it was just his loneliness. After all, how fair was it for a man with five children and the responsibility of a large farm to propose marriage to a beautiful young woman like Anna? So he’d put off the decision to do anything about his feelings. As long as he didn’t speak up, he was free to imagine what it would be like having her in his house, sitting beside him at the kitchen table, or bringing him a cold glass of lemonade when he was hot and sweaty from working in the fields. Month after month, he’d waited for her to reach the age of twenty-one, but when she had, he still hadn’t found the nerve to ask.
What if she rejected him out of hand? So long as he didn’t speak up, he could keep on going to Hannah’s house, sitting at their table, savoring Anna’s hot cinnamon-raisin buns and chicken and dumplings. But once he brought up the subject, if Anna refused him, Hannah might have no choice but to discourage his visits.
He hoped he was a truly faithful man, a good father and a good farmer. He’d been blessed by beautiful children, caring parents and a loving family. The Lord had provided material goods, land of his own and a fine herd of dairy cows. He served on the school board and helped his neighbors. His life should have been full, but it wasn’t. He longed for Anna Yoder to be his wife.
It had taken his sister Louise to finally put an end to his hesitation. She’d brought Mae home, handed her over, and told him that it was time he found a new wife and a new mother for his children. He had to agree. It was past time. But now that he’d made up his mind and chosen the right woman, he’d made a mess of things.
What must Anna think of him? No wonder she was embarrassed. He’d had his arms around her, had her literally in his lap, and they’d both been doused in blue paint, like some sort of English clowns. He wanted to court her honorably, to give her the love and caring she deserved, and instead he’d made her look foolish.
In his stocking feet, Samuel stepped over a puddle of paint, taking in the room again.
After the mess he had made, it would serve him right if Anna never spoke to him again.
Anna stood in the shower in the big upstairs bathroom and scrubbed every inch