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 of her skin. She knew that she should be downstairs cleaning up the terrible mess she’d made, but she couldn’t face Samuel. She’d probably have to hide from him for the rest of her life.
How could she have been so clumsy? Not only had she fallen off the ladder, but when Samuel had tried to catch her, they’d both gone down in a huge pool of blue paint.
She wished she could weep as her sisters did, as most girls did when something bad happened. But this was too awful for tears. Not only had she embarrassed herself and Samuel, but she’d probably ruined things between her mother and Samuel. She’d be the laughing stock of the community, and Samuel would probably never come to the Yoder farm again. And all because of her foolish daydreaming. What a silly girl she was, thinking Samuel had said he wanted to court her. She probably needed to clean out her ears. She had obviously misunderstood.
“Anna!” Susanna cracked the bathroom door. “You made a mess.”
“Go away,” Anna ordered.
“Samuel told me to come see if you were all right.”
“He didn’t leave yet?” her voice came out a little shrill.
“Nope. He told me to come see if you—”
“I’m fine,” Anna interrupted, hugging herself. Emotion caught in her throat at the sheer mention of Samuel’s name. “Just go away, please.”
The door opened wider, and her sister’s round face appeared. Anna could see her through the filmy, white shower curtain.
“Are you blue, Anna? Will the blue come off? Will you be blue on Sunday? At church?”
“Susanna! I’m in the shower.” Eli had promised to fix the lock on the door a few weeks ago when he’d put the doorway in between the room over the kitchen and the upstairs hallway in the main house, but he hadn’t gotten to it. She’d have to remind him because right now there was no privacy in the upstairs bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“But Anna …”
“Anna,” repeated little Mae.
Susanna had brought Mae to the bathroom! Anna took a breath before she spoke; there was no need to take this out on Susanna. It was all her own fault. “Take Mae back downstairs to her father. See them out. And give them some biscuits!”
Without waiting for an answer, Anna turned the hot water knob all the way up and stood under the spray. Give Samuel biscuits? Had she really said such a thing? Was there no end to her foolishness? Samuel didn’t want her biscuits. After the way she’d embarrassed him, he’d probably never again eat anything she baked.
Anna could hear Susanna and little Mae chattering in the hall and she felt trapped. If Mae was still in the house, Samuel had to be. She couldn’t possibly get out, not with him still here.
“She has to go potty,” Susanna piped up over the drone of the shower. “Mae does. She has to go bad.”
Gritting her teeth, Anna peered around the shower curtain. The water was beginning to get cool anyway. They had a small hot water tank that ran on propane, but there wasn’t an endless supply of warm water. “All right. Just a minute. Close the door and let me get dried off.” She jumped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself. “All right, Susanna. Bring Mae in.”
Susanna pushed open the door. “There’s the potty, Mae.”
“Do you need help?” Anna asked the child. Mae shook her head.
Anna wrapped a second towel around her head. “When she’s done, wash her hands, then her face. Clean up her dress and bring her into the bedroom. We can fix her hair.” She smiled down at the little girl. “Would you like that? I never pull hair when I do braids. You can ask Susanna.”
“Anna does good hair braids,” Susanna agreed. “But I fink she needs a bath,” she told Anna. “She looks like a little piggy.”
A quick examination of the little girl convinced Anna that she wasn’t all that dirty, she’d just lost a battle with her breakfast. “We don’t have time for a bath. I’m sure Samuel needs to be on his way.”
Susanna wrinkled her nose as she looked at the little girl. “You spill your oatmeal this morning?”
“‘Frowed it. It was yuck,” Mae said from her perch.
Susanna’s eyes got big. “You throwed your oatmeal?”
“Ya. It was all burny.” She made a face. “It was lumpy an’ I ‘ frowed it.”
On her father as well, Anna realized, suddenly feeling sympathy for both father and daughter. “Well, don’t do that again,” she admonished gently, tightening the big towel around her. “It’s not polite to throw your breakfast. Big girls like Susanna never throw their oatmeal.”
“Ne,”
