Second Chances (34 page)

That thought, and that thought alone, had changed her.

“Anna?”

Now, it was only when she heard her name being called a second time and felt a hand
upon her arm that she turned and found herself staring directly into the face of
the only person she had not wanted to see: Willis Eicher. “Oh, I . . . ” She started to turn, to look in Freman's direction, but Willis's
persistence forced her to pay attention to him.

“A moment, Anna,” he said, a soft smile on his lips. “Please . . . ”

Unable to say no without causing people to notice, Anna nodded her head, and with
one last glance toward where Freman stood, relented to follow Willis onto the porch
of the Troyers' house.

Outside, the cool air chilled her. Unlike the first time that he had stopped by Cris
and Mary's house, his appearance unexpected and disarming, he didn't seem to notice
that she shivered. Instead, he took a deep breath and lifted his chin as he prepared
what she quickly realized was a speech that he had practiced, most likely more than
once, before speaking the rehearsed words to her in person.

“I have made my decision,” he proclaimed in earnest. “I shall not return to Florida.”

“Oh?” She wanted to glance over her shoulder and through the door window, but resisted
the urge.

“It is my intention to reside here, Anna, and in due time assist in recollecting
your family to your rightful home in Charm.”

A light dawned within her and she suspected that she knew what would soon follow.
She knew she had to extract herself and return inside, the friendly atmosphere perhaps
offering her the only hope she might ever have of approaching Freman.

“I'm sure that it would be painful to return to Barbie's family,” she said. “It has
only been but a few months.”

Her mention of his deceased wife caused him a moment's pause. Her words clearly impeded
his planned speech and he needed that time to recollect his thoughts.

“A few months gone,” he admitted, “but a man needs to move on and live his life,
wouldn't you agree?”

“Ah,” she quipped lightly, grabbing the opportunity to alter the tone of the conversation.
“Like Benjamin Esh and his engagement to Leah Musser.”

“I . . . ”

“You aren't familiar with Benjamin, of course, being that he's from Lancaster. Surely,
however, you must have learned of the circumstances surrounding Leah's engagement.”
She sighed and added, “Although I did not know
Benjamin's fiancée, I am certain that
she would not have easily, nor so suddenly, forgotten her intended.”

“It's true that I do not know the Esh family, but I'm sure that his fiancée doted
on him.”

Anna nodded. “It is not in any woman's nature who dotes on her beloved to abandon
the memory so quickly, not if she truly loved him.” She sensed a presence behind
her but resisted the urge to see who it was.

“Do you claim that women have stronger emotions than men, then?” Willis asked.

“Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to presume that,” she countered. “But I do believe
that we cling to memories much longer than you do. And is it any wonder? From the
moment of our birth, our fates are so very different.”

He seemed genuinely interested in her opinion. “Do explain, Anna.”

“Certainly.” She paused for good measure. “What is an Amish woman's role but to think
of her future home? We are taught to manage the house, our chores focused on supporting
our husband and raising godly
kinner
. Our worth is measured by those near and dear
to our hearts. Men, on the other hand, are responsible for a profession that, in
most cases, entails interactions with others, a chance to see worldliness for what
it is, and, as such, protect his family from its grip. Even more important, his
righteousness and reputation improve with the outward exertion.”

He laughed, clearly amused by her statement. “And a woman's reputation?”

As she started to respond, she heard the door slowly open behind her. “Why, hers
would decrease in similar conditions, for it is expected that only inward efforts,
namely those within the walls of her home, extol her true virtue.”

Someone cleared his throat, and without turning around, Anna knew who it was.

Willis glanced over her shoulder and greeted Freman with a smile of recognition from
earlier in the day, giving her the opportunity to step aside to make way for the
newcomer. The two men introduced each other with a simple, but firm, handshake.
When Freman made no move to excuse his interruption upon their discussion, Willis
easily shifted the conversation to a less intimate topic: their occupations. The
irony of this subject matter, in light of what she had just stated, was not lost
on Anna. In silence she stood between the two men, positioning herself so that she
faced Freman more than Willis. While subtle in nature, she hoped the gesture would
be recognized by the one while overlooked by the other.

“Oh, dear,” she said when there was a lull in the conversation. She lifted a hand
to her throat and forced a slight cough. “I think I shall go for a lemonade.”

“Permit me!” Willis offered, all too eager to demonstrate his care for her needs.

He was gone but for a moment when Anna turned to Freman, knowing her limited chance
to freely speak her mind, to share her thoughts, after reading his profound declarations
of endearment.

Under the steady gaze of his eyes, cleverness escaped her. She opened her mouth,
expecting words to flood out, wanting to respond in kind to the sentiment that he
clearly crafted with intense consideration.

“Freman . . . ” Her voice broke and it was all that she could do to contain the burning
feeling that tightened her throat and threatened her eyes.

He delivered her from more suffering by lowering his voice as he said, “That is a
word, Anna.”

She nodded her head, emboldened by his gaze. “It is a word,” she said softly. “The
one and only word that I wish to say first thing in the morning and last thing at
night.” A single tear clouded her vision, and as it fell down her cheek, she gave
a soft, embarrassed laugh and quickly wiped it away.

A look of relief replaced his pensive expression. Had he truly doubted her response?
She could scarcely believe he had not known, all along, that she had never stopped
loving him. With his confidence restored, he reached for her hand. Lifting it so
that it brushed against his chest, the very spot where his heart beat, he sighed
and smiled at her.

“We should leave here, Anna,” he said, quickly glancing over his shoulder. She understood
what he meant. Courting couples simply slipped away during the singing in order to
spend time alone in the buggy, their disappearance an indicator that they were, indeed,
courting someone, even if the companion was unknown. Some made a game of it, the
woman leaving the group after the man had left. Leaving together would be the kindest
way to signal to Willis that any sentiment he held for Anna would best be saved for
another young woman.

In the privacy of the buggy, under the shadows of darkness, Freman shared the details
of the past eight years. She listened without interrupting, her heart aching once
again for having caused him such distress. To think that
he had moved to Lancaster
in hopes of bettering his prospects with the sole intention of returning to gain
her favor! Tears filled her eyes once again, especially when he added how, after
several years passed, his pride took precedence over his passion and he decided not
to return. Despite hoping otherwise, he simply presumed she had wed another and tried
to forget.

“Indiana is where I decided to live,” he told her. “
Mayhaps
in the back of my mind
I thought I would hear word of you and learn of your fate. Who had you married? How
many
kinner
were you raising? Never did I imagine that my
schwester
would rent the
very house where we said good night . . . and eventually good-bye!”

She lifted her hand and touched his arm. “I should never have yielded to the wishes
of others!”

“And so I regained hope, Anna, when you said as much today!” He slowed down the horse
and the buggy came to a standstill. Shifting in the seat, he turned toward her. “I
knew that I had only one choice and that was to bare my feelings to you before another
stepped forward.”

Without saying his name, Freman's reference to Willis was understood.

She had not been dreaming when she suspected his jealousy earlier that day. That
had fueled both the intimacy and urgency of his prose.

“No other could step forward,” she said in response. “Did my behavior not indicate
so much?”

“It did, Anna. But I was blind to see it.” He laughed and pressed his lips to the
back of her hand. “
Mayhaps
I feared that you could still be persuaded against me,
especially when I suspected that my devotion to you was misconceived by others.”

“I am afraid I could not discern your feelings,” Anna said softly.

“Nor could I read yours. You kept them well hidden!” he laughed.

Then he spoke with regret of his unintentional misleading of Leah. Only when Benjamin
told him of his engagement to Leah, seeming fearful of his reaction, did Freman realize
how everyone had misinterpreted his attentions to Leah. He assured Anna he had been
quick to congratulate Benjamin and assure him of his unwavering support. And Anna
could rest in the knowledge that, indeed, Freman had never intended to mislead Leah,
play on her emotions, or deceive her. Rather, he had relied on his friendship with
the Musser family to enable him to be near Anna in order to ascertain whether she
might yet have some feelings for him.

“And what of your father . . . and Lydia?” Freman spoke with some hesitance, revealing
the old wound that lay beneath the surface.

She allowed herself a moment to think before she responded. What would they say when
they learned the news? Would Lydia realize that her previous advice had been faulty?
Would her father, having faced the very financial hardships that had caused him to
scorn the Whittmore family eight years ago, be softer and more accepting?

“I am of the opinion,” she began slowly and thoughtfully, “that my love and respect
for my
daed
, Lydia, and even my
schwesters
is enough to persuade them of the sensibilities
of my decision in such a way that we will receive their favor, if not also their
blessing.” She paused, her resolve strengthened as she realized that submitting her
life to God meant that His will should take precedence over the wishes of her family.
If she had not succumbed to the pressure of others' opinions, God would have led
her to make wiser decisions.

For a moment she was sobered by the thought, but then another followed, which she
shared with Freman.
“And we will put the past behind us and show mercy to my family as God has shown
mercy to us. After all, He sent His Son, Jesus, to take on the burden of our sins.
I have learned, Freman, that God's mercy is about second chances. God needed to teach
me to rely more on Him than on the desires and opinions of others. Then He graciously
gave me a second chance to make right the wrong I did to you—to us.”

Freman seemed to digest her words, nodding his head as he silently mulled over her
acceptance of culpability in the decisions that had so impacted their lives. Then,
with a deep and satisfied sigh, he reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips,
gently pressing them to her skin.
“There is my sweet Anna. I've waited so long for her to return to me.”

Anna leaned her head against his shoulder, shutting her eyes as she savored the feeling
of her hand still being held by his. “And your sweet Anna will never leave your side
again,” she whispered.

For the next hour Freman directed the horse down the dark roads surrounding the Mussers'
farm. They talked of the future, having both readily agreed the past had been a time
of chastening and maturing, an interlude that fulfilled God's plans for them rather
than their own. Who were they to question the path chosen for them, especially since
the destination was exactly to their liking? He had
led them apart, knowing that
their time would be well spent. Now, in the way only God could do, after so many
years apart their paths converged once again, and they knew they would never stray
onto any other road.

Neither could be persuaded otherwise.

Epilogue