The Measure of a Heart (20 page)

“It has a great message—yet is wonderfully entertaining,” he assured Anna, but she still had doubts. She knew nothing about writing scripts or recitations. She did hope that the material wouldn’t be disjointed and meaningless.

She was disappointed with the turnout on the first afternoon of practice, but then for some reason the idea seemed to catch on. Soon there were twenty-two children, of varying ages, meeting at the small church. Anna assigned parts, sending them home for memorization. She had her hands more than full trying to keep the attention of everyone as the practicing progressed, but the program soon began to come together. The children seemed to be excited about putting it on for the community.

“We could have a good attendance,” Austin informed Anna. “I hear comments wherever I go. People are looking forward to it.”

“People always enjoy seeing their children perform,” Anna reminded him, but she didn’t admit the nervous twitches that assailed her when she thought forward to the night of the actual event. What if things went all wrong? What if people didn’t understand her message? What if the children totally failed in their presentation? What if . . . ? Would it reflect poorly on Austin? On the church? Maybe she had been wrong to assume that she could handle such a task.

But Anna plunged on, trying with each practice to improve the presentation.

The date was set for the twenty-first of December. To Anna’s amazement, the town seemed to be buzzing about the event. She did hope that she wouldn’t let them down. The children had worked so hard, had been so faithful in practice. The stage was ready. The simple costumes were ready. Each part had been thoroughly memorized. Anna prayed daily that she would be able to carry out her part of directing the little presentation.

But on the twentieth, a storm swept through town. The howling winds and blowing snow soon made Anna realize that the country folks would surely not be able to get to town.

“We will be a scant crowd and that’s for sure,” she moaned to Austin. “And some of my chief parts are taken by country kids.”

Austin sympathized. “You’ll just have to use readers for the parts,” he suggested. “Even adults could fill the gaps.”

But it turned out that even the town folks were not able to make it to the program. The storm raged on. Austin made his way to the church and posted a notice on the door. “Christmas Program postponed until further notice,” it stated simply, but Anna’s heart was heavy. How would the children respond?
They had worked so hard for the program. Surely they would be as disappointed as she herself.

They hoped that the program could be given on Monday night, then changed to Tuesday night, then Christmas Eve. None of those worked. The weather held cold, with strong winds and drifting snow. At last, Anna accepted the inevitable. Christmas would come and go and their program would not be presented. She felt a deep sadness and disappointment as she resigned herself to the fact.

But the little town was not prepared to dismiss all the work and anticipation quite as easily.

“I think we should still have it,” said Mrs. Brady the first Sunday of January.

“But Christmas is over,” Anna replied, downhearted.

“No matter. The weather kept most of us from feeling like we really celebrated Christmas. No reason we can’t go ahead and have it now.”

Others voiced or nodded agreement. The idea was presented to Austin.

“If you feel there is still interest, I see no problem with that,” he agreed. “I know that Anna and the children have put hours and hours of work into their program.”

And so it was arranged. New posters were tacked in conspicuous places. Anna had Austin set up the stage again. The costumes were pulled back out of storage, and children polished up their parts. Anna felt more nervous than ever.

But when the program was finally presented on January fifteenth, it was to a full house. No one seemed to mind that the Christmas season had passed. The story of the first Christmas was just as pertinent, just as meaningful, just as full of hope and promise as it would have been were it presented at the usual time.

“Now I feel that I’ve had Christmas,” Anna heard one woman say to another as they left the church. Neither of the women were from the little congregation.

“Folks seemed to really enjoy the program,” Austin said later. “It was a great idea. And who knows, it may have caused more reflection—more impact—coming after the season than it would have had it been at the appointed time.”

Anna nodded dumbly. She was still shaking from her bout of nerves.

“And we certainly got a number of folks I’ve never seen in church before,” Austin commented.

Anna had hardly noticed the crowd. She had been far too busy trying to keep her little troop cued for their performance.

“I’ve been thinking,” went on Austin. “It might be a good idea to have an Easter program . . . much the same.”

He said the words as if it were such a simple, reasonable thing to do. Anna looked at him with wide eyes.

“What do you think?”

Anna swallowed. Then nodded dumbly. If it would help the church and their ministry to the community, how could she say no?

But Austin quickly added, “Not this year. You’ll be too busy with the new baby, but we might think about it for next year.”

In spite of herself, Anna breathed a little sigh of relief.

“We are going to have another new parishioner,” Austin announced one day, a strange smile playing about his lips.

Anna looked up from kneading bread.

“A fellow by the name of Burton Bloom stopped by the church. He’s the young bachelor schoolteacher from that little country school just west of town. We stopped by his place once when we were calling but found no one home. Remember?”

Anna had a faint recollection.

“The next time I called alone and was told that he’d ‘think about it.’ Well, he’s been thinking for quite a spell, but it seems that he now has a bit more to think about.”

Anna waited.

“He says he’ll be in church on Sunday. Wanted to know the hour of meeting.”

Austin smiled again.

“Then he asked a few—shall we say—rather revealing questions. I have a strong feeling that his sudden desire to attend the House of God has something to do with a certain young widow.”

Anna stopped working the dough and looked at her husband.

“Well, all I can say,” went on Austin with a grin, “is that maybe he is the answer to prayer. Mine. Yours. And a certain widow’s.”

And with that simple statement, Austin grinned again and left Anna to her bread baking and to ponder the fact that her “naive young husband” was possibly rather perceptive.

Chapter Seventeen

Passing Days

Anna’s days were more than full. She spent as much time as she could with Mrs. Lawes. It was difficult because of the distance, but Anna went to the farm at least once each week.

With the passing weeks, Anna’s coming child made everything she did just a bit more difficult. In fact, Anna’s time of confinement was drawing near and Austin’s concern kept her closer to home.

She had managed to fix a layette of sorts, but it was difficult. “We have two bed sheets,” she had reasoned. “We can do with one. The comforter has a soft lining.” So Anna cut up one of their sheets to make diapers. But even the sheet didn’t yield many diapers—and Anna knew she was destined to spend much of her time over the laundry tub after the baby had joined them.

She went through her own closet and found a slip that would do just fine for baby things and sewed three little garments from the material. She saved pennies until she had enough for yarn, and knitted a sweater, bonnet, and booties. And then came a parcel from home. Anna lifted the soft material from the bundle, knowing that her mama had sacrificed to make it possible. “Egg money,” she murmured to herself, wiping tears and thanking God for her mama’s hens.

Two days later another parcel came. This one was from Austin’s mother. The garments were more expensive. A little gown, two little shirts, and a pair of tiny shoes. Anna wept again.

And then a most delightful thing happened. The congregation—and community—gave Anna a baby shower. She looked around the circle of ladies, many who did not come to their church, a few that she hadn’t yet met, and she was so overcome by gratitude that she could hardly swallow her egg-salad sandwich. Why had she fussed and worried? God was looking after her little one all the time.

Margaret Mae arrived a few minutes after midnight on March eighth. She was robust and healthy and another miracle in Anna’s eyes. Never had she been so overcome with emotion as she was when she held the precious baby in her arms for the first time.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” she whispered to Austin, and he assured her that she certainly was.

“I think she will have your big eyes,” he said, beaming, and Anna looked up in surprise. He said it as if it was an asset. Anna had always felt her eyes too big for her skinny little face.

Oh, I do hope not, she wanted to say, but she held her tongue.

Mrs. Paxton was the first to call. Anna heard the cane come thumping down the walk and was braced for the pounding on the door. But it did not come. Instead, there was a soft “Yoo-hoo,” and Anna chuckled as she called out for her visitor to come in.

The elderly woman entered, hobbling her way across the floor.

“Hear you got a girl,” she remarked.

Anna nodded. She had just nursed the baby, who slept contentedly beside her.

“She’s a little mite,” said the woman, gruffness tainting her voice.

Anna had long since become used to it. She smiled, knowing it to be a cover-up. A habit developed over years of grousing.

“She’ll grow,” she said softly.

The woman nodded.

“What’re you calling her?”

“We’ve named her Margaret Mae, but we will be calling her Maggie.”

The elderly woman nodded again and thumped her cane on the wooden floor. Another of her habits, thought Anna.

The thumping stopped and Mrs. Paxton lifted her head.

“You okay?” she surprised Anna by asking.

“I’m fine,” responded Anna cheerily.

“You look paler than your sheet,” said the woman frankly.

“I feel fine. My color will return once the doctor lets me out of bed.”

The woman nodded again. “You’d be smart not to rush it,” she informed Anna bruskly. Then added, “You want some tea?”

“My husband was just home and fixed me some,” Anna answered, then had second thoughts. “But another cup would be nice if you don’t mind fixing us both one.”

Mrs. Paxton had never taken tea with her before.

As the old woman rummaged around in her kitchen, Anna lifted herself to a sitting position and plumped her pillows.

Mrs. Paxton was soon back with a cup of tea in her hand.

“You take milk or sugar?” she asked.

Anna shook her head. She had long since given up both—out of necessity. “No,” she said now. “It’s fine—black.”

Anna accepted the tea. “Do you have one for yourself?” she asked.

“I can only carry one at a time,” she replied dourly. “This here leg of mine takes a hand, too.” She shook her cane as she spoke, and Anna nodded.

The thump, thump of the cane went back to the kitchen, then returned to the bedroom. Anna indicated the one chair that crowded into the corner. “Move that shirt of my husband’s,” she offered.

But the woman quickly responded, “Looks like it needs washing—guess I can sit on it.” And she did.