The promise of easter, p.8
The Promise of Easter, page 8
Anna blinked. That wasn’t the impression she got at all. And Elizabeth sounded as if she asked for assurance.
“Rebecca seems very shy.” When Carl didn’t speak, Anna forged onward, hoping to connect with the woman at some point. “I hope she’ll feel more comfortable after a time. Is there anything I can do to encourage her to talk more?”
“No.” Carl’s answer came quickly.
Elizabeth laughed a little. “Now, I wouldn’t say that. You’ll give Teacher Anna the wrong idea,” she chided. “She is very shy, as you’ve seen, but I’m sure she’ll settle down and talk more as she gets to know you. Just let her move at her own pace. It never works to try to push her to talk.”
“I would never do that.” Anna had stiffened. Did the woman think Anna was that unfeeling?
“Gut.” Carl filled in the silence. “That’s settled then.”
Before she had time to think that remark rather odd, Elizabeth had fluttered into speech. “We must thank you for taking care of the children’s lunches. I’m afraid we were all behind schedule that day, and they hurried off without them.”
“I’m sure it happens.” She tried to make it sound as if it were not unusual. “I had a few things here, and we all shared. We made a picnic out of it.”
“How sweet you are,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Don’t you think she’s sweet, Carl?”
Carl looked as if he’d been struck dumb at the question, and Anna hurried into speech. What was behind the almost artificial tone of Elizabeth’s words?
“We all want the children to be happy here,” she said carefully. “By the way, for the end of the school year, we usually have a picnic and invite the parents. It’s a little celebration for the eighth graders, who won’t be back next year. If you’d care to help . . .”
She left it open-ended. Parents, mothers especially, usually jumped at the idea.
But Elizabeth looked as if her mind were a million miles away all of a sudden.
“Mrs. Burkhardt?” Anna didn’t know what to say. Nothing about this conversation was going as expected.
Carl seized his wife’s arm. “Yah, I’m sure we will help.”
“If we’re here,” Elizabeth said. “Who knows?”
You should know what your plans are. Anna wanted to pursue the subject, but Carl was already steering his wife toward the door.
“My wife is tired. I’ll take her home so she can rest.”
Anna hurried after them trying to think of something to say. “I’m sorry. If you need any help while your hand is healing, I’d be glad to stop over. And I’m sure Ella King is ready to do anything she can.”
But he was already lifting Elizabeth into the buggy and motioning to the children. In another moment, they were pulling out of the schoolyard.
Anna stared after the retreating buggy, realizing she had even more questions than before. And almost no answers.
CHAPTER SIX
Anna sat at the desk in her bedroom that evening, still puzzling over the experiences of the day. Since she’d begun teaching, she’d had a room of her own, with a desk, bookshelves, and the ability to close the door to outside noise. She didn’t, most of the time, because the room felt lonely without the usual buzz of a big, busy family.
It wasn’t any outside noise that kept her from coming to a conclusion about the Burkhardt family. Maybe it was the noise in her head, instead. She kept going over their conversation, trying to glean the least spark of insight. She knew there was something there that would give her a clue; she sensed it.
But that was all. She couldn’t put it together. If she had more experience . . . Teacher Dorcas, she felt, would have known how to handle something like this, but Dorcas had turned the school over to Anna, and it was her job to deal with it now.
Dorcas would have certain sure been more confident than Anna was. When Anna had been her assistant, she had been in awe of the way Dorcas could grasp any situation. Anna had thought that she had grown ready to handle anything that came along, as well, but this one had her baffled.
Anna stared down at the calendar on her desk. The month was flying by. She ought to be working out the class schedule for the rest of the year. It would soon be Easter, and then the children would be thinking about summer.
She really did need to have covered all the proposed material before the end of the school year in May. The scholars would forget enough over the summer without the added stress of failing to complete the materials. Some of the children were fascinated by learning, and they were the ones who would make the most use of the library during the summer. At least she’d know they were reading.
As for the rest . . . there’d be work to do helping at home or in the businesses that their parents ran, to say nothing of trips to visit relatives and family reunions.
Thinking of families brought her right back to the problem. Elizabeth Burkhardt’s face imposed itself on the squares of the calendar, one fleeting expression after another. The woman had skipped from topic to topic so quickly that Anna had struggled to keep up, even without analyzing the woman’s attitude. Was she always like that, or was it some sort of act put on for the benefit of the children’s teacher?
Anna rubbed her forehead. What she needed to do was talk this over with someone, but who? Mammi or even Grossmammi would have insights, she felt sure, but Dorcas had pounded into her the concept of privacy where the school was concerned. She couldn’t discuss one parent with another—that was unthinkable. What happened in school was off-limits to anyone outside, unless it was something that should go to the school board. And she couldn’t imagine talking to the three solemn board members about something like this.
Someone came stamping up the stairs, and she was startled to see that it was Sally. What had happened to the bright cloud of first love that Sally had been floating on all week?
Sally started past her door, then seemed to change her mind. She came in and flung herself on Anna’s bed, making the springs creak in protest.
“Take it easy,” Anna said automatically. “If you want to flop around, do it on your own bed.”
Ignoring her comment, Sally rolled onto her back, threw her arms over her head, and sighed loudly. Then, seeming pleased with the sound, she did it again.
Anna put down her pen. Did Sally even realize how annoying she was being?
“I’m trying to get some schoolwork done here,” she pointed out.
Sally sighed again. Even more loudly.
Anna felt like sighing herself. Obviously she wasn’t going to get anything else done until she’d dealt with Sally.
She turned in her chair to study her sister’s face. There was no doubt that Sally was appealing, with those huge blue eyes and the lightest of blond hair. Anna had expected boys to fall for her sister, but she’d never considered what that would do to Sally.
Anna planted her hands on her knees. “What happened to the girl who has been floating around the house in love? Did you and Joseph break up already?”
Sally had been in love three times since she started rumspringa, and Anna suspected she had a couple more to go before she actually settled. But at her question, Sally sat bolt upright, outraged.
“No! How can you say such a thing? Joseph and I love each other.”
“Well, then, if there’s nothing wrong with Joseph, what is it? And don’t start sighing again or I’ll throw a pillow at you. Or maybe something harder.”
Sally leaned on her elbows. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how unhappy I am.” Her big blue eyes welled with tears, something they seemed to do at the slightest provocation. She’d sometimes thought Sally did it deliberately. But no, she really was unhappy.
Anna felt a moment of sympathy, and a desire to wrap her arms around her little sister. But she held back, knowing that Sally could create a drama out of almost anything.
“Komm, now. Tell me what’s making you so unhappy. If you and Joseph really like each other—”
“We love each other,” she cried. “And Mamm and Daad are trying to part us. Just because they think we’re too young.”
“I doubt that Mammi and Daad are trying to make you break up. But you are young. You’re only sixteen.”
“Almost seventeen,” she snapped. “And I’m mature for my age. Everyone says that.”
Anna had never heard anyone say that. In fact, they were more likely to wish Sally would grow up a little. But Anna decided it wouldn’t be tactful to point that out now.
“It’s really up to Mammi and Daadi, you know. I can’t do anything. If you just talk quietly to Mammi, I’m sure she’ll listen.”
“I’ve tried!” She grabbed Anna’s pillow, as if looking for something to throw, but with a quick look at Anna, she put it back and smoothed the pillowcase. “Please, Anna.” Eyes pleading, she clasped her hands together. “Please. You know Mammi listens to you. Just because you’re the oldest, she thinks you’re mature. But you’ve never even been in love.”
Anna could only stare, feeling as if she’d been smacked in the face. “If it’s being in love to walk around all moony and then snap at people who try to talk to you, I’m just as glad.” She stalked across to the door. “If you’re not leaving, I will.”
Fuming, she went down the stairs, careful not to indulge in stamping her way down. Nobody would appreciate that. At least Sally had distracted her from the very real problem of the Burkhardt family. Maybe she should be glad of that.
When Anna reached the kitchen, she found her mother and her grandmother having a cup of tea. They were so quiet that she knew they’d heard.
“Is there another cup in that teapot?” She got a cup from the cupboard.
“Always,” Mammi said, pouring while Anna slipped onto a chair. “I take it your sister was telling you all her troubles.”
“The only trouble I could see is that she’s making too much of this relationship with Joseph. Chances are she’ll be out of love with him and in love with someone else by Easter.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Mammi said.
“That child is looking for trouble. Imagine wanting you to let her go out alone with Joseph. And at night! Anna would never have done that.”
Mammi smiled. “I think Anna spoiled us by being such a good girl. Not that Sally isn’t good,” she added hastily. “But goodness, she takes everything to heart.”
“I certainly hope I never talked like that when I was Sally’s age. You’d have sent her to bed if she were a little younger.”
“Yah, I know the temptation. But she’s a few years too old for sending her to bed or making her sit in the corner.” Mammi shook her head. “I suppose she’ll get over it.”
Grossmammi patted her hand. “She will. Don’t you worry about that. You raised her right. She’ll grow out of this stage.”
Anna’s thoughts had been going in another direction. “I don’t know Joseph very well. Is there anything wrong with him?”
“Nothing except that he lets Sally talk him into things,” Mammi said. “I’m sure this idea of going on a date was hers, and he’s not strong enough to stand up to her.”
Anna couldn’t help smiling. “She told me I don’t know anything about it because I’ve never been in love. Judging by Sally, it’s a very uncomfortable thing to be.”
It was Mammi’s turn to smile. “You’re a different kind of person.”
“That’s right. Falling in love is different for everyone.” Grossmammi seemed to look back into the past. “I’d seen your grandfather every day for years. I’d have said we were friends, that’s all. And one day I looked at him, and then I knew. He was the only man for me.” She clasped Anna’s hand. “You’ll be like that.”
Touched, Anna’s eyes swam with tears.
Grossmammi went on. “We always thought one day you’d—” She stopped, and Anna looked at her curiously.
“You thought I’d what?”
Mammi shrugged. “We thought it would be Matthew for you. But then he went away.”
Anna opened her lips, found she had nothing to say, and closed them again. Was that what her parents had believed? It was obvious that Grossmammi thought so, too.
She took a large gulp of her tea and discovered that it was still very hot. Hot enough to jar her into reacting to her mother’s words.
Maybe, at one point, she’d thought of Matt that way. But if anyone still believed that, they were doomed to disappointment. She’d begun to think she’d never be married. But if she were, it certain sure wouldn’t be to Matthew.
* * *
* * *
Matt was getting frustrated. As far as he knew, Anna had met with the Burkhardt parents after school on Tuesday, but by Friday he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her alone. On Friday afternoon he decided that he would stick around the Stoltzfus farm until he’d managed to get some answers, no matter how obvious it was.
He’d watched the Burkhardts get home on Tuesday. They’d all marched into the house, and the door slammed behind them. Other than seeing Carl working outside, he hadn’t gotten another glimpse of them, and Aunt Ella said she didn’t think Elizabeth had been outside the house at all.
Leading one of the draft horses, he headed for the barn. If the gelding wasn’t stopped, he’d munch the fresh sprouts of green grass to the ground and go down with colic as a result. Matt had already brought Belle in, and she was the more difficult one to deal with. Stubborn, that’s what she was, but a fine animal regardless, with her wide, strong chest and intelligent eyes.
She and Beau were a good matched pair. Simon wouldn’t admit to being proud of them, but Matt had seen him smiling as he watched them out in the pasture.
“I thought you’d be bringing them in,” Isaac said, moving from the straw bale where he’d been sitting to open the stall door for him. He patted the animal as Beau moved past him. “About time for them to do some work. If this weather holds, we’ll get the plowing done soon.”
“Sure will. April weather can fool you, though.” Matt latched the door.
“That it can.” Isaac seemed to limp a little when he moved, but Matt stilled the question in his mind. The old man didn’t like any hint that he was slowing down. It was all right if he said it, but no one else could.
Matt suddenly realized that Isaac was reaching for the ladder up to the loft. Moving quickly, Matt swung his foot onto the first rung. “Time for me to throw down the hay.”
“Are you thinking I’m too old to climb in the loft?” Isaac was frowning, but as usual there was a slight twinkle in his eyes.
“I’m thinking that if you do my work, Simon won’t need me anymore. You don’t want to put me out of work, ain’t so?”
Isaac chuckled, the lines crinkling in his leathery face. “I know when you’re trying to smooth talk me, young Matt. Well, I’ll go along and see if the kinder are coming from school yet.”
Matt moved carefully up the ladder. He’d grown used to the short distance to the loft, but he still had no desire to bring on that awful dizziness. His feet firm, he hauled the hay bales over to the edge. He found Anna’s father standing at the foot of the ladder, looking up at him. Matt hesitated.
“Something wrong?”
Simon shook his head. “Toss those down, and I’ll start filling the mangers.”
Matt nodded, and by the time he’d finished and climbed down, Simon was tossing the last flakes of hay in, and the horses were munching contentedly.
“I heard what you and Grossdaadi were saying. You managed that pretty gut.”
Matt knew Simon well enough to interpret that as a compliment. “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But I didn’t want him climbing up to the loft when his leg was bothering him, either.”
Simon clapped him on the shoulder. “Yah.” He seemed to struggle with his own feelings. “Nobody wants to admit they can’t do what they’ve always done.”
“I guess not.”
Matt tried to imagine himself in that place. Well, he was, in a way. He couldn’t manage heights anymore—but that wasn’t permanent, he told himself. He’d get over that, just like he’d gotten over other bad things.
“Life keeps changing.” Simon glanced around at the animals, and Matt had the feeling he was drinking in the peaceful atmosphere. “But some things stay the same, yah? Animals still have to be fed, fields have to be planted. If the weather holds, we’ll start on the west field on Monday.”
Matt nodded agreement. “Want me to check over the plows and the harness?”
“You don’t need to do it now. You can go ahead and knock off if you want.”
But he didn’t want, not until he’d had a chance to talk to Anna. “That’s okay. I’ll get started on it anyway.”
Matt hadn’t gotten far along before he spotted Anna’s buggy coming in the drive. When she’d reached the side of the barn where she normally kept it, he was there to catch Micah when he hurtled himself out of his seat.
“I went higher than anybody on the swings today, Matt.” He seemed eager to share his triumph with someone. Anyone would do, he guessed.
“Great.” He sent a cautious look at Anna, but she nodded. Apparently Micah hadn’t broken the rules about going so high that the seat snapped back.
“I asked Rebecca if I could push her, but she didn’t want to.” He turned to his sister. “Why doesn’t she want to go on the swings? I wouldn’t let her get hurt.” He sounded a bit hurt himself that his friend wouldn’t cooperate.
Betsy ran to the house as soon as she got down, but Grace lingered, helping to unload. Anna was handing her canvas bag to Grace to carry into the house, but she focused on Micah at once. “I’m sure she knows that, Micah. Maybe she doesn’t like swinging.”
“She should try it first to see if she likes it.” Grace, the logical one, always had an answer.
