Anna's Gift. Emma Miller

walked,” Anna said, which sounded even more foolish. It was obvious that they had walked. There was no buggy in sight and Samuel was pulling the sled. They had probably taken a shortcut across the adjoining fields rather than coming by the road.

      “School is closed,” Naomi supplied.

      “C-c-closed,” chimed Lori Ann.

      “I came to finish the room,” Samuel explained. His wide-brimmed felt hat and his beard were covered with snow, and it seemed to Anna as if the snowflakes had gotten as large as cotton balls since she’d gone into the barn. “To give it a second coat,” Samuel finished.

      “Oh.” Had they eaten breakfast? What could she offer them? Anna wondered. She and Susanna had planned on oatmeal and toast this morning. The thought that Samuel had caught her at less than her best again flashed through her mind. She was wearing Dat’s barn coat and her hair wasn’t decently covered with her kapp.

      “You don’t have to feed us this morning,” Samuel said, as if reading her mind. “I fed them all before the oldest went off to school.”

      “But Johanna sent us home,” Rudy said. “The radio said we’re getting eight inches.”

      Peter added hopefully, “Maybe there won’t be any school next week either.”

      Samuel’s ruddy face grew a little redder. “I have a battery radio,” he said. “Not for music, but so that I can hear the news and weather. I just turn it on when it appears that there might be an emergency. Something that might affect the school or the trucks that pick up my milk.”

      Anna nodded. “Ya.” Mam had a radio for the same reason, but it wasn’t something that Samuel needed to know. Radios weren’t exactly forbidden, but they were frowned upon by the more conservative members of the church. Of course, that didn’t keep some of the teenagers and young people from secretly having them and listening to “fast” music. “That makes sense.”

      “We brought a turkey,” Naomi said. “For dinner.”

      Samuel shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s frozen. I wasn’t expecting to bring the three oldest with me today, but I don’t know how long the painting will take, and—”

      “Why are we standing out here?” Anna said. She’d covered the tops of the milk buckets with cheesecloth, but any moment the melting snow would be dripping into the milk. “Come into the house. And not to worry about the noon meal. You didn’t have to come back to do a second coat. I could have—”

      “And another reason,” Samuel said, following her toward the house. “A phone call to the chair shop, from Hannah. Roman came over to tell Johanna, at the school. Your mother won’t be headed home until Sunday or Monday. Their driver is waiting to see how bad this snow is before he starts for Delaware.”

      Anna nodded. She missed Mam, and she knew that Susanna had hoped Mam would be returning by tomorrow. But having Samuel finish the painting would be a Godsend. That would leave her free to make the rest of the house shine like a new pin.

      And having Samuel all to herself again, that would be fun, too … wouldn’t it? Anna shook off that small inner whisper. Samuel was a friend and a neighbor, and was soon to be Mam’s suitor. He’d come to help out for her mother’s sake, no other reason. And just because she’d foolishly mistaken what he’d said about courting Mam, she had no reason to spin fancies in her head.

      Then the little voice in the far corner of her mind spoke again. But you could pretend that this was your family…. What harm would that do? Just pretend for today….

      “It would be wrong,” Anna said.

      “What would be wrong?” Samuel asked. “It seems to me that waiting to see if the weather’s going to grow worse before starting such a long drive is good sense. You wouldn’t want them to go into a ditch somewhere between here and Ohio, would you?”

      “Of course not,” Anna protested. “I was thinking of something else, nothing important. You come in and get warm.”

      “We want to stay out and play in the snow,” Rudy said. “Dat said we could.”

      “Just the boys,” Samuel said. “Girls inside.”

      “But Dat,” Naomi protested. “I want to make a snowman.”

      Samuel’s brow furrowed. “I need you to watch over your sisters. Anna has more to do than tend to mischievous children.”

      “Ne, Samuel,” Anna put in gently. “Let her enjoy the snow. Lori Ann is a big girl. She can help me bake pies, and I have Susanna to tend to Mae. We see so little snow in Kent County. Let Naomi play in it.”

      Naomi threw her a grateful look. “Please, Dat,” she begged.

      Lori Ann was beaming.

      “Well, if Anna doesn’t mind. But you’re getting past the age of playing with boys. Best you learn to keep to a woman’s work.”

      Anna rolled her eyes, but when she spoke, she kept her voice gentle and soothing. “Soon enough she will take on those tasks, Samuel, and joyfully, from what I can see. She’s been a great help to you these past four years.”

      “I can see I’m outnumbered,” he answered. “But I’ll not have you spoil them beyond bearing. And little Mae is a handful, as Naomi can vouch for.”

      Mae giggled.

      Anna bent and lifted the child from the sled. “Nothing to laugh at,” she admonished. “You must respect your father. You’re not a baby anymore. Watch Lori Ann and see how good and helpful she is.”

      Lori Ann’s eyes widened and she nodded, pleased by the praise. “Ya,”