Second Chances Read Online Free PDF Page B

broke. Her father looked around the room, his eyes taking
in the freshly painted walls (for he always hired three young men to repaint them
in the springtime), wood-stained trim work (something that Anna worked tirelessly
to clean each week), and perfectly waxed linoleum floor (another task that fell upon
Anna). Cleanliness was, after all, next to godliness.
    “To have another person sit in my kitchen?” Emotion welled up in his throat. “Tend
my Lizzie’s gardens? Who could I possibly entrust with such a valuable piece of my
life?”
    Gathering her black sweater, Lydia ignored his reservations. She spared a genuine
smile in Anna’s direction before picking up her basket. “I heard that George Coblentz
is returning to the area. His older sister is ailing and they may need a place to
stay.”
    “They?” William’s mouth fell open. “You mean he has young kinner ?” He shook his hand
in front of his chest as if warding off something bad. “ Nee ! I won’t have undisciplined
young ones tearing through this haus ! They’ll trample the rose bushes, for sure and
certain!”
    Laughing, Lydia placed her hand on his shoulder, the closest gesture of intimacy
she ever shared with him. It was a simple touch that spoke of a deep friendship and
even deeper tolerance on her part. “Oh, William! You fret over the most mundane things!
Besides, it’s just George and his fraa , Sara. Their children are all grown up now.”
    Anna picked up her quilting, readying herself to continue working on the blanket
since Lydia was leaving.
    “Coblentz?” William tugged at his beard, a sign that Anna knew too well: he was searching
his memory. He remembered everyone that he met, a social practice he had perfected
over the years. “I don’t know anyone named Coblentz.”
    Lydia slipped her arms into her sweater and quickly extracted the strings to her
prayer kapp. Her hand on the doorknob, she turned to wave one last time to the three
young women before responding to his statement. “Of course you do,” she said, opening
the door. “George’s fraa grew up here, just north of Berlin. Don’t you remember Sara?
Sara Whittmore?”
    Anna’s fingers froze over the material, the needle only partially pushed through
the fabric. She dared not raise her eyes. To do so, she feared, would allow Lydia,
of all people, to read her thoughts. The casual nature in which Lydia said the name
startled Anna almost as much as hearing it. Was it possible that Lydia had forgotten
her advice to Anna to forget marrying Freman since her father would not accept a
Whittmore into the family? Even after she broke off the engagement, very little was
said of Freman’s abrupt disappearance. Indeed, no one in their house had spoken of
the Whittmore family for years. That, however, had not hindered Anna from thinking
of the Whittmores, one in particular, each and every day for the last eight years—a
fact that she now knew was unknown to everyone, even Lydia!
    “They are the most delightful people, and you know what they say about a woman without kinner ,” she said, her voice light and breezy. “They take the best care of the haus and gardens!” One last wave and Lydia disappeared out the door. Behind her, she left
four people in deep thought: three who wondered about this George Coblentz and how
the g ’ may would react to the news of the Eicher departure and a fourth who stared
at her lap, her eyes glazed over and her fingers unable to extract the needle.
    Whittmore. The name was far too familiar to Anna. While the voices of her family
faded into the background, some long-repressed memories awakened. She lifted her
eyes and looked around the room, her eyes seeing the very objects that so alarmed
her father just moments before. Rather than fearing the hands that might touch them
in just a few short weeks, her heart pounded at the very thought of the Whittmores
staying in their house.
    She sighed, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as she fought the intense