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If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never forgive herself. Never.
Chapter Three
The following morning proved cold and blustery, with a threat of snow. All through the morning milking, the feeding of the chickens and livestock and breaking the thin skim of ice off the water trough in the barnyard, Anna wrestled with her dread of venturing out on the roads. She needed to buy more paint, but she didn’t know if it was wise to travel in such bad weather. The blacktop would be slippery, and there was always the danger that the horse could slip and fall. And since she didn’t want to leave Susanna home alone, she’d have to take her, as well.
Anna considered calling a driver, but the money for the ride would go better into replacing the paint. If only she hadn’t been so clumsy and wasted what Mam had already purchased. She wondered if she could find some leftover lavender paint in the cellar. If there was any, maybe she could cover the blue splashes, and put the room back as it had been.
But the truth was, Grossmama would be angry if she found her new bedroom English purple, and Mam would be disappointed in Anna. Anna had caused the trouble, and it was her responsibility to fix it. Snow or no snow, she’d have to go and buy more blue paint.
What a noodlehead she’d been! Was she losing her hearing, that she’d imagined Samuel had said that he wanted to court her? She tried not to wonder how Susanna could have misheard, as well. It was funny, really, the whole misunderstanding. Years from now, she and her sisters would laugh over the whole incident. As for Samuel, Anna thought she’d just act normal around him, be pleasant, pretend the whole awful incident had never happened and not cause either of them any further embarrassment.
After the outside chores, Anna returned to the house, built up the fire in the wood cookstove, and mixed up a batch of buttermilk biscuits while the oven was heating. Once the biscuits were baking, she washed some dishes and put bacon on. “Do you want eggs?” she asked her sister.
“Ya,” Susanna nodded. “Sunshine up.” She finished setting the table and was pouring tomato juice in two glasses, when Flora, their Shetland sheepdog, began to bark. Instantly, Jeremiah, the terrier, added his excited yips and ran in circles.
“I wonder who’s here so early?” Anna turned the sizzling bacon and pulled the pan to a cooler area of the stove.
Susanna ran to the door. “Maybe it’s Mam and Grossmama.”
“Too early for them.” Thank goodness. Not that she wasn’t eager for Mam to get home. Her younger sisters had been away for nearly a year, with only short visits home, and she’d missed them terribly. But Grossmama would make a terrible fuss if her room wasn’t ready and the walls were still splashed with blue paint.
Susanna flung open the door to greet their visitor, and the terrier shot out onto the porch and bounced up and down with excitement, as if his legs were made of springs. Coming up the back steps was the very last person on earth Anna expected to see. It was Samuel, and he’d brought his three daughters: five-year-old Lori Ann, nine-year-old Naomi and Mae, all bundled up in quilted blue coats and black rain boots. They poured through the door Susanna held open for them. The two older girls carried paint rollers, and Samuel had a can of paint in each hand.
“It’s Samuel!” Susanna shouted above the terrier’s barking. “And Mae! And Naomi! And Lori Ann!”
Anna’s stomach flip-flopped as she forced a smile, wiping her hands nervously on her apron. “Samuel.” She looked to Naomi. “No school today?”
She pushed her round, wire-frame glasses back into place. “My tummy had a tickle this morning, but I’m better now.”
“I think we were missing our teacher,” Samuel explained. “I let her stay home. She never misses. Do I smell biscuits?” He grinned and held up the paint cans. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your breakfast, but I wanted to get an early start on those walls.”
Confused, Anna stared at him. “You wanted to get an early start? You bought paint?”
“Last night.” He smiled again, and mischief danced in his dark eyes as he set the cans on the floor. The girls added the rollers and brushes to the pile. “I just took my shirt along to the store, and they were able to match the color perfectly.”
“Good you brought paint,” Susanna announced. “Now we don’t have to take the buggy to town.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Anna gripped the front of her apron. “It’s kind of you, but you have so much to do at your farm. We’ll pay for the paint, of course, but—”
“I smell something burning.” Naomi peered over her glasses and grimaced.
Anna spun around to see smoke rising from the stove. “Oh, my biscuits!” She ran to snatch open the oven door, and used the hem of her apron to grab the handle of the cast-iron frying pan.
“Be careful,” Samuel warned. A cloud of smoke puffed out of the oven, stinging Anna’s eyes. She gave a yelp as the heat seared her palm through the cloth, and she dropped the frying pan. It bounced off the open door, sending biscuits flying, and landed with a clang on the floor. Anna clapped her stinging hand to her mouth.
Lori Ann squealed, throwing her mitten-covered hands into the air, and the terrier darted across the floor, snatched a biscuit and ran with it. In the far doorway, the dog dropped the biscuit, then bit into it again, and carried it triumphantly under the table. Flora grabbed one, too, and ran for the sitting room with her prize.
“They’re burned,” Naomi pronounced, turning in a circle in the middle of the biscuits. “You burned them, Anna.”
“Never mind the biscuits, just pick them up,” Samuel said. Somehow, before Anna could think what to do next, he had taken charge. He crossed the kitchen, retrieved the cast-iron frying pan from the floor using a hand towel, and set it safely on top of the stove. “How bad is the burn?” he asked as he put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the sink. “Is it going to blister?”
“I’m all right,” Anna protested, twisting out of his warm embrace. Her palm stung, but she was hardly aware of it. All she could think of was the sensation of Samuel’s strong arm around her and the way her knees felt as wobbly as if they were made of biscuit dough.
Samuel gently took her hand in his large calloused one, turned on the faucet, and held her palm under the cold water. “It doesn’t look bad,” he said.
“Ne.” Anna felt foolish. How could she have been so careless? She was an experienced cook. She knew better than to take anything out of the oven without a hot mitt.
“Let the water do its work.” Samuel said, speaking softly, as if to a skittish colt, and the tenderness in his deep voice made Anna’s heart go all a-flutter again. “The cold will take the sting away.”
“Does it hurt?” Susanna asked.
Anna glanced at her sister. Susanna looked as if she were about to burst into tears. “Ne. It’s fine,” Anna assured her. Susanna couldn’t bear to see anyone in pain. From the corner of her eye, Anna saw Mae raise a biscuit to her mouth. “Don’t eat that,” she cautioned. “It’s dirty if it’s been on the floor.”
Samuel chuckled, picked up a handful of the biscuits and brushed them off against his shirt. “A little scorched, but not so bad they can’t be salvaged,” he said.
“In our house, we have a five-second rule,” Naomi explained, grabbing more biscuits off the floor. “If you grab it up quick, it’s okay.”
“Mam says floors are dirty,” Susanna said, but she was picking up biscuits as well, piling them on a plate on the table.
Anna knew her face must be as hot as the skillet. Why was it that the minute Samuel Mast walked in the door, she turned into a complete klutz? She hadn’t burned biscuits in years. She always paid close attention to whatever she had in the oven. She wished she could throw her apron over her face and run away, like yesterday, but she knew that she couldn’t get away with that twice.
“Don’t put them on the table,” Anna said. “They’re ruined. I’ll feed them to the chickens.”
“But I want biscuit and honey,” Mae pouted, eyeing the heaped plate. “Yes’erday, she …” She pointed at Susanna. “She gave me a honey biscuit. It was yum.”
“Shh,” Naomi said to her little sister. “Remember your manners, Mae.”
“I can make more,” Anna offered.
“Nonsense.” Samuel scooped up Mae and raised her high in the air, coaxing a giggle out of her. “We’ll cut off the burned parts and eat the other half, won’t we?”
Anna took a deep breath and shook her head. She was mortified. What would Mam think, if she found out that she’d served guests burned biscuits they’d picked up off the floor? Pride might be a sin, but Mam had high standards for her kitchen. And so did she, for that matter. “Really, Samuel,” she protested. “I’d rather make another batch.”
“Tell you what,” he offered, depositing Mae on the floor and unbuttoning his coat. “I came here to offer you a deal. Maybe we can make biscuits part of it.”
“I … I l-l-like b-biscuits,” Lori Ann said shyly. “A-a-and I’m hungry.”
“He made us egg,” Mae supplied, tugging on Anna’s apron. “Don’t like runny egg.” Anna noticed that she was wearing the too-large kapp that she and Susanna had put on her yesterday, while her sisters wore wool scarves over their hair. Mae’s kapp was a little worse for wear, but it gave Anna a warm feeling that Samuel had thought to put it on her today.
“Hush, girls,” Samuel said. It was his turn to flush red. “They don’t think much of my cooking. Naomi’s learning, but she’s only nine.”
“Naomi’s eggs is yuck,” Mae agreed.
Naomi stuck her tongue out at her sister. “We don’t criticize each other’s work, and you shouldn’t make ugly faces,” Anna corrected. Then she blushed again. What right did she have to admonish Samuel’s children? That would be Mam’s task, once she and Samuel were husband and wife. But it was clear that someone needed to take a hand in their raising. Men didn’t understand little girls, or kitchens for that matter.
“Listen to Anna,” Samuel said with a grin. “It’s cold outside, Naomi. Your Grossmama used to tell me that if I stuck my tongue out at my sisters my face might freeze. You don’t want your face to freeze like that, do you?” Susanna giggled. “That would be silly.” “And we’re not outside.” Samuel gave Naomi a reproving look. “Sorry, Mae.” Embarrassed, Naomi looked down at her boots. Puddles of water were forming on the floor around them.
“For goodness’ sakes, take off your coats,” Anna urged, motioning with her hands. “It’s warm in the kitchen, and you’ll all overheat.”
“I’m afraid we tracked up your clean floor with our wet boots,” Samuel said.
Anna shrugged. “Not to worry. You can leave them near the door with ours.” She motioned to Susanna. “Get everyone’s coats and hang them behind the stove to dry. I have bacon ready, and I’ll make French toast. We’ll all have breakfast together.”
“What—what about b-b-b-biscuits?” Lori Ann asked. “Let me give you a hot breakfast, and I promise I’ll make a big pan later,” Anna offered. Lori Ann sighed and nodded. Samuel looked at his daughters shrugging off their wet coats, then back at Anna. “We didn’t come to make more work for you. We ate. We don’t have to eat again.”
Anna waved them to the table. “Feeding friends is never work, and growing children are never full.” She opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves, choosing applesauce, cold sweet potatoes and the remainder of the ham they’d had for supper the night before. “Susanna, would you set some extra plates and then put some cocoa and milk on to heat?”
“I—I—I l-l-like c-c-cocoa,” Lori Ann stuttered. Lori Ann had pale blue eyes and lighter hair than either of her sisters. Anna thought that she resembled the twin boys, Rudy and Peter, while Mae looked like her late mother.
Mae, in her stocking feet, scrambled up on the bench. “Me, too! I wike cocoa.”
“If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” Samuel said, but his eyes were on the ham and bacon, and he was already pulling out the big chair at the head of the table.
Anna felt better as she bustled around the kitchen and whipped up a hearty breakfast. She liked feeding people, and she liked making them comfortable in Mam’s house. When she was busy, it was easier to forget that Samuel was here and Mam wasn’t.
“I want honey biscuit,” Mae chirped. When no one responded, she repeated it in Deitsch, the German dialect many Amish used in their homes.
“Be still,” Naomi cautioned. “You’re getting French toast or nothing.”
“She speaks both Deitsch and English well for her age,” Anna said, flipping thick slices of egg-battered toast in the frying pan.
“Louise has done well with her. I know many children don’t speak English until they go to school, but I think it’s best they speak Deitsch and English from babies on.”
“Ya,” Susanna agreed, taking a seat between two of the girls. “English and Deitsch.”
“Mam says the same thing.” Anna brought cups of cocoa to the table for everyone. “She says young ones learn faster. I suppose we use more English than most folks.”
“She’s smart, your mother,” Samuel answered. “The best teacher we’ve ever had. The whole community says so.”
Anna smiled as she checked on the browning slices of fragrant French toast. This was good, Samuel complimenting Mam. Maybe Anna hadn’t ruined Mam’s chances with him, after all.
“This is a real treat for us.” Samuel sat back in Dot’s chair and sipped his cocoa. “The neighbors, and your mother especially, have been good about sending food over, but I can’t depend on the kindness of my friends forever.”
Anna brought the heaping plate of French toast to the table to add to the other plates of food and sat down. Everyone joined hands for a moment of silent prayer, and then the silence was filled with the sounds of clinking silverware and eating. Conversation was sparse until the six of them finished, and then Samuel cleared his throat.
“Anna—”
“Oh!” Anna popped out of her chair. “Coffee. I forgot. Let me get you a cup of coffee.”
Samuel smiled and shook his head. “The hot cocoa is fine. But I wanted to ask you about that trade I mentioned.”
Anna tucked her hands under her apron and looked at him expectantly.
“Gingerbread c-c-cookies,” Lori Ann supplied. “Yesterday, the kids got it in their heads that they wanted cookies. I thought we could do a deal. You make cookies with my girls, and I’ll paint the bedroom. I’d be getting the better end of the deal,” he added. “With breakfast and cookies.”
“Dat brought ginger and spices,” Naomi supplied. “They’re in my coat pocket.”
“We were out of flour and just about out of sugar. I can’t get the hang of shopping for staples.” He shook his head. “No matter how often I go to Byler’s store, I always come home without something we need.”
“Like baking powder,” Naomi chimed in. “We don’t have that either.”
Anna chuckled. “Well, lucky for us Mam has three cans. When you go home, remind me, and you can take one with you.”
“C-c-can we make—make c-c-c-cookies?” Lori Ann asked, her mouth full of French toast.
“Of course, I’ll be glad to make cookies with you,” Anna said, “but I can’t let you paint the bedroom, Samuel. That’s my job, and—”
“Ne.” Samuel raised a broad hand. “It’s settled. You’ll be doing me a real favor. What with the bad weather and being stuck in the house, my ears are ringing from the chatter these three make. Having you bake with them will be a treat for them and a nice change for me. Besides …” He grinned as he used the corner of a napkin to wipe the syrup off Lori Ann’s chin. “Maybe I’ll even get to take some cookies home for the twins.”
Anna sighed, gracefully giving up the battle. “If you insist, Samuel. I have to admit, I much prefer baking to painting, and I won’t have to climb back up on a ladder to do it.”
“Nobody’s getting back on that ladder until I’ve had a chance to repair it,” he said. “I brought another one in the back of the buggy.” He rose from the table and rubbed his stomach. “Great breakfast. Best I’ve had in months.”
What a good man he is, Anna thought, as she watched Samuel put on his coat to go outside for the ladder. And he’s a good father. Mam would be lucky to have him for a husband. Any woman would. Having him here at the table, enjoying a meal together like a family, had been wonderful, but she had to remember who Samuel was and who she was.
“Potty,” Mae said loudly. “I haf’ to go potty. Now!”
“Susanna, could you take her?” Anna asked. “And if you two would wash your hands and help me clear away the breakfast dishes, I’ll get Mam’s recipe book.”
“I can read the ingredients,” Naomi offered. “I like to read.”
“What we need to do is find aprons just the right size for Lori Ann and Mae,” Anna mused.
Now that Samuel had left the kitchen, she felt more at ease with the girls. She and Samuel’s daughters would bake cookies, biscuits and maybe even a few pies. And while the oven was hot, she could pop a couple of chickens in the back to roast for the noonday meal. It would take hours for Samuel to finish the bedroom walls, and all that work would make him hungry again. She began to calculate what would go best with the chicken, and how to keep the little ones amused while she taught Naomi the trick to making good buttermilk biscuits.
As Samuel crossed the porch, he could hear Anna talking to his girls. She had an easy way with them, and Naomi liked her, he could tell. It wasn’t fair that Naomi had had to take on so many household chores since her mother had passed. If Anna agreed to marry him, Naomi could be a child again for a few years.
Maybe he’d been selfish, waiting so long to look for a wife again. He knew there were plenty who would have taken him up on an offer, but it was important that his new partner be able to love his children and teach them. It would take a special woman to fill that role, and he couldn’t think of a better one than Anna Yoder, even if she was shy about giving him an answer.
He went down the steps, into the icy yard. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday, but despite the burned biscuits, today seemed different. Sitting at the table with Anna, seeing how kind she was to Mae, Lori Ann and Naomi, he wanted to court her all that much more. He was glad he’d worked up the nerve to come this morning.
Even though Anna hadn’t said anything about the courting, she hadn’t shut the door in his face. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Maybe she wanted more time to think about it. It was a big decision, taking on him and his family.
He paused beside the buggy and closed his eyes, breathing deeply of the cold air, letting the wet snowflakes pat against his face and lodge in his beard. He knew a father had to put his children’s welfare first, but the memory of the way Anna had felt when he put his arm around her made his throat tighten and his pulse race. How good she’d felt! And she’d smelled even better, all hot biscuits, honey and, oddly, a hint of apple blossom.
She had pretty hair, Anna did, and he couldn’t help wondering how long it was. Those little curls around her face meant that it would be wavy, even when she brushed it out. Anna was a respectable woman, a faithful member of the church, and it would be wrong to think of her in any way that wasn’t honorable. An Amish woman covered her hair in public and let it down only in the privacy of her home … for her husband to see.
He swallowed, imagining what it would be like to touch those red-gold strands of hair, to watch her brush it out at the end of the day, to have the right to be her protector and partner.
The sound of the porch door opening behind him jerked him from his reverie. “Samuel? Do you need help with the ladder?”
He chuckled, glanced back over his shoulder and shook his head. “Ne, Anna. It’s not heavy. I can get it.” He looked at the gray sky. “But I’ll put it on the porch and take the horse to the barn. It’s too nasty a day to leave him tied outside.”
“Turn him into the empty box stall,” she called. “And throw down some hay for him.”
“Ya,” Samuel agreed, smiling at her.
He was rewarded with a smile so sweet that he was all the more certain that he and Anna were meant to be man and wife. The only thing standing in his way was Anna.
