Second Chances (4 page)

“You need to observe the practicality of moving to a smaller house, William,” Lydia
offered, clearly not offended by his comment that insinuated his deceased wife might
have offered a better solution than Lydia. In truth, if Anna had not passed away,
she would not have let her husband become such a spendthrift.

Anna looked up in time to see her father stop short and turn to face the three women.
“Sell the house and move to a smaller one?” He shook his head and continued pacing.
“People will say I cannot provide for my family! Humiliating!” With stooped shoulders
and glazed eyes, he paused to consider this thought. “
Nee
! Disastrous!”

“Scandalous, indeed!” Elizabeth added, always the one to follow her father's concern
over what others might think of their good family name.

Anna studied her older sister. Ever since their mother died, Elizabeth had assumed
the position of the female head of house, helping their father make decisions. But
it was Lydia who provided a maternal presence, at least to Anna. On most occasions,
Elizabeth deferred to Lydia. However, if Lydia was not around, there was simply no
reasoning with her father and elder sister: they seemed to agree on anything and
everything as long as it maintained their image within the community. And that left
out Anna.

As for Mary . . .

Anna looked at her other
schwester
, the prettiest of the three and, being married
to Cris Musser, Mary was the only one who wore a white prayer
kapp
at worship service.
Her waist, while not quite as thick as Elizabeth's, still showed the extra weight
that went with bearing children, although Anna wondered if she might be expecting
another baby already.

Unlike Elizabeth, who worried about the family reputation, Mary tended to fret over
having to support her destitute father and two unmarried sisters. Being the only
married member of the family, and with a husband's family that lived quite nicely,
Mary frequently expressed
her anxiety of shouldering such a burden. “If you sold
your house, where would you live?”

Once again, Anna lifted her head and stared first at her father and then at Elizabeth.
Neither one spoke. She knew what they were thinking, so with a soft smile, Anna spoke
for them. “We could stay with you, Mary.”

This idea flustered Mary. The color rose to her cheeks and she responded with a quick
excuse. “You know that our
haus
is already too small! Salome Musser refuses to give
up the larger one!” She pursed her lips and sighed.
“Imagine that! Putting us into the
grossdawdihaus
with two small
kinner
!” She clicked
her tongue three times as she shook her head, clearly disapproving of her mother-in-law's
decision. “Her own son, me, and two grandchildren! Living in such cramped quarters!
Why, it's a wonder the bishop doesn't interfere with Salome for being so selfish!”

No one responded to her complaints. Nor did anyone point out that she still had a
spare bedroom, given that the two young boys shared one. However, the Eicher family
all knew what was required when Mary went on a self-indulgent rampage: a proper moment's
hesitation, as if permitting a respectful silence to acknowledge Mary's complaint,
before continuing to address the real situation at hand—finances.

At last, Elizabeth broke the compulsory silence. With her hands folded together and
resting so primly on her lap, she appeared almost like an austere schoolteacher reprimanding
rambunctious young children. Only she wasn't: she was scolding her father. “I dare
say that selling the house would raise eyebrows,
Daed
.” She paused, hesitating as
if mulling over her own words. “But there must be something we can do. Why, the Hostetlers
kept their
family place even after all of those medical bills required not one but
two rounds of aid from the
g
'
may
!” She turned her head, her sharp eyes staring at
Lydia with a look of disdain. “Certainly we are better off than that!”

The challenge was set. Anne could only hold her breath and wait to hear what came
next. When she glanced at her father, she saw the glimmer of hope that shone from
his eyes and her heart ached for her father. But he was oblivious to his middle
daughter's thoughts. Instead, for the second time that evening, William pointed at
Elizabeth as if her comment might solve his problems. “
Ja
, that's the truth!” A glow
of eagerness returned to his face. “No one can doubt that we have done much better
than that Henry Hostetler!”

Lydia shook her head. “I've gone over your numbers, William. You have simply spent
far more than you have earned . . . or saved. The maintenance on this property plus
the taxes on the land are only part of the problem. You also spent almost ten thousand
dollars on that new buggy last spring.”

“And the horse,” Anna whispered.

Lydia nodded at the reminder and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “And the horse.
A Dutch Harness horse? That was a very expensive horse, William.”

At this comment, regarding the horse, Mary chimed in. “And you already have that
Standardbred!” She laughed—a short little burst of air—and looked at Lydia as if
expecting her to join her. “And then you purchased that fancy harness from Benny
Zook. Custom made, if I do recall what you told people after worship service.”

“Fancy harness?” He bristled at the words spoken by Mary. “I see nothing wrong with
purchasing a good quality harness for a horse that is sound and capable.”

“Sound and capable, yes. But that horse was as green as they come, William,” Lydia
reminded him, with just enough gentleness in her voice so that he did not become
more irritated. “Need I remind you that you had to pay John and Martin Wagler to
break it?”

“I'd be happy to talk to Cris about buying your new buggy,” Mary cheerfully offered,
as a way of moving the conversation along, ignoring the glare that Elizabeth sent
in her direction. She smiled as if this alone would solve her father's money problem.
“Our own buggy is so old anyway. I'm sure Cris would agree, although your buggy
is
used now, so it wouldn't fetch the same price, I reckon.”

This suggestion did not sit well with William. “I just purchased that buggy! It has
the new battery that recharges! I shall not part with it!”

Mary pursed her lips and looked away.

“Perhaps I should just sell a few acres.”

“I'm afraid it's not as simple as that,” Lydia said, a gentleness to her voice that
did little to lighten the news. “Even selling those unused acres that you never farm
wouldn't help, William. And, frankly, it would make the property less valuable in
the long run.”

It wasn't a big property, just ten acres. Many years ago, it had been much larger,
but as customary among Amish families, parcels were divided and given to sons throughout
the generations. Anna loved to walk through the tall grasses in the back acres, sometimes
finding a broken piece of metal from an older plow or harvester in her path, especially
after a sweet spring rain. She knew
that her grandfather,
Grossdawdi
Eicher, had
lived on the property, helping his own
daed
farm those acres a couple of generations
ago. When he married and acquired the small farmette, he chose not to farm the land
but worked in minerals, instead. He bought them in bulk from suppliers around the
country and sold them mostly to communities of Amish in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and
Indiana.
After all, dairy cows and horses needed minerals to stay healthy.

With only two children who survived into adulthood,
Grossdawdi
Eicher didn't have
to worry about decisions regarding inheritance. His son, David, eight years older
than William, had married and moved to the southern part of Holmes County. With his
wife, he raised their five daughters and one son. Now that David was older and bound
to a wheelchair, he lived on the same farm with that son and two grandsons, the oldest
of whom ran the large farm.

As for William, he followed in his father's footsteps. When
Grossdawdi
Eicher passed
away, William had inherited the farmette, the perfect size for raising his own small
family.

Minerals had been a valuable career path for William, given that there was limited
competition. The rewards for his efforts were great from a financial perspective.
The only problem was that he had sold the business three years ago, retiring when
he hit sixty-one and his vision worsened. Too many years refusing to wear glasses
when the sun went down had quickened his visual impairment. Without a steady income,
his unwillingness to decrease spending had begun to seriously deplete his nest egg.
And though not spoken aloud, everyone knew that William could not
accept assistance
from the
g
'
may
without revealing that pattern of profligate spending that was so
contrary to the Amish doctrine.

Now, he sat in his chair, trying to digest Lydia's words while rubbing his hands
as if attempting to ward off a deep pain. A flare-up. Again. Without being asked,
Anna set down her quilting and quietly stole across the room to retrieve a small
plastic container from the propane-powered refrigerator. She unscrewed the lid of
the jar as she approached her father. Kneeling by his side, she dipped her finger
in the jar and began to rub the wax-like ointment onto his hands, the scent of lavender
slowly filling the room.

Only Lydia appeared to notice.

The older woman smiled as she observed Anna's attentiveness to her aging father's
arthritis. It always seemed to flare whenever he became upset. Over the years, however,
he stopped seeing doctors, claiming their
Englische
medicine was too suspicious
and full of ingredients he couldn't pronounce.

Abruptly, William withdrew his hand from Anna's, motioning for her to leave his side.
It was not an overtly rude motion, or at least Anna didn't take it that way. No,
she merely picked up the lid to the jar and got to her feet, quietly returning the
ointment to the refrigerator while he talked.

“I just don't understand how this happened.” It sounded as if he had finally embraced
the inevitable: the house and its land must be sold. As the realization sunk in that
this was the only course of action that would provide any financial assistance, he
frowned, the deep wrinkles by his eyes mirrored by the ones engraved in his forehead.
Lines
of age meant years of wisdom, Anna thought as she sat back on the sofa and
watched him. Or, in his case, years of foolish spending. “So many years! So much
work! Where has all of the money gone?” This last question, directed at Lydia, was
spoken in a tone that bespoke genuine worry and fear.

“
Daed
,” Anna chimed in, her soft voice barely audible. “No one will think any less
of you for selling the
haus
. There are worse things, I suppose.”

“What could possibly be worse?” His voice cracked as he addressed Anna. Her sensible
nature often conflicted with his vanity, a character trait so contrary to the Amish
life that Anna often wondered how he had not once been reprimanded by the bishop.
Now, and not for the first time, he stared at her, an expression of incredulity on
his face, as if the words she had spoken were that of a child and not an intelligent
woman. “It isn't
your
reputation at stake, need I remind you?”

“William!” Lydia gestured toward the reclining chair. “Please sit. You're working
yourself into a tizzy.”

Silently Anna watched as her father did as Lydia instructed.
Bless her heart
, she
thought. Dear Lydia with her calming influence over stressful situations in the Eicher
house. Without Lydia, Anna knew that there were times that even Elizabeth would not
be able to handle her father's anxieties. Clearly this was one of those.

William took a short breath and lifted his chin. “
Ja vell
, I won't be letting that
Willis get his hands on it, that's for sure and certain!”

“
Daed
!” The anger in her father's expression caught Anna off-guard. As soon as the
word slipped from her lips, she covered her mouth. She hadn't meant to reprimand him; however, his display of anger, especially so pointedly at one particular individual—and
family at that!—upset her. She was thankful that no one else paid attention to her
outburst.

William turned toward Anna. Lifting his hand in the air, he pointed toward the heavens.
“God is my witness, I don't care whether or not he's my nephew's son! The injustice
he did to this family!” His anger dissipated just enough so that, when he looked
at Elizabeth, there was less fire in his eyes. “
Ach
, the humiliation! It's unthinkable
that his banns were read after he came calling on you!” He reached out to pat her
hand, a gesture of comfort to his oldest daughter. “Why, the entire church district
whispered for months, and not even John David would invite me to play checkers that
winter!”

Anna looked away, the color flooding to her cheeks, but not before she saw Elizabeth's
jaw muscles tighten.

Despite her own discomfort with her father's rebuke, Anna felt even more shame as
she remembered her sister's stoic response when it was announced after worship service
that Willis Eicher and Barbie King were to marry. At that time, seven years ago,
there were plenty of unmarried young women in the
g
'
may
, five of whom sat between
Anna and Elizabeth on the hard pine bench, since the single women always entered
the room in chronological order. Even though she hadn't been able to comfort her
sister, Anna felt the sting of the announcement. Elizabeth, on the other hand, never
once mentioned his name nor the four times that he had come calling at their house.