The Measure of a Heart (27 page)

Anna pushed aside the thoughts and concentrated on getting her family to the table for the simple meal. She wanted them fed before little Rachael awoke for her feeding.

It seemed that Austin would “get by” for another Conference. Anna’s situation was not quite as easy to solve. She had no material for new garments. She didn’t know what she should do.

“I—I was thinking,” she said hesitantly as they ate their supper. “Maybe the girls and I should stay home this year.”

Anna felt more than saw Austin’s head come up.

“I thought you enjoyed Conference.”

“I—I do,” stammered Anna, and she could not keep her own eyes from lifting.

“Then why don’t you want to go?” he asked candidly.

“Well, I—I just thought that it might be difficult this year with—with two little ones—and—and—”

But Anna knew she must be truthful.

“It will be hard,” she said at last, “to find the proper clothing for all of us.”

Austin’s gaze lowered again. He looked troubled.

“I know,” he said at last. “I haven’t been a very good provider.”

Anna’s breath caught in her throat. She had not even considered that thought.

“Oh, but it’s not your fault,” she hurriedly responded, reaching out to clasp Austin’s hand that rested on the table.

“It’s been hard for you, Anna,” Austin was saying. “I keep hoping that soon—soon we will have a big enough congregation that there will be enough in the offering plate to—to make things easier for you. But it just hasn’t happened.”

Austin pushed back slightly from the table and raised his hand to run his fingers through his hair.

“One convert—one struggling convert,” Austin mused as though to himself. “That is hardly what one would call a thriving ministry.”

“Austin, we don’t seek converts to—to increase the offerings,” Anna began softly and Austin swung to her, his eyes showing shock.

Then his shoulders slumped and he nodded his head.

“That was the way it sounded, wasn’t it?” he admitted.

He let his hand run on down the back of his head and massage the base of his neck.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” he said wearily. “It’s just—just—I feel like such a total failure. As a minister. As a husband and father.”

Anna could not believe her ears. Had she done this? Had she made Austin feel a failure because of her inability to provide for the family?

“And—another Conference—when I have to stand before the whole body and say . . . one convert. One convert in four years of ministry.”

Two, corrected Anna mentally. Two converts. Have you forgotten Mrs. Cross, or are you crossing Matt off until he completes his probation?

But Anna did not say the words. She was much too busy trying to sort through the words of her husband. Anna had never heard Austin’s voice so filled with anguish. She had never seen his shoulders so slumped, his body so drained of energy. She didn’t know how or why, but somehow she knew that the fault was hers.

I couldn’t even win Mrs. Paxton, her thoughts raced. I couldn’t even make her understand. No wonder Austin is unsuccessful in his ministry. He has chosen the wrong wife.

Anna did not know what to say to her husband. How could she admit that she was the wrong choice for his life’s partner without reminding him that he was the one who had made that choice?

She returned to her supper, but it was tasteless and unsavory. After trying a couple bites, she pushed back her plate. She could swallow no more.

Rachael cried. Anna was thankful for the interruption. She rose to her feet and hurried from the table.

The small body pressed warmly to her bosom was a measure of comfort to Anna. At least she was providing adequately for baby Rachael. She wasn’t a total failure. And then her eyes fell on the simple, mended garment that had been washed so many times it was getting thin, and the tears begin to flow in spite of Anna’s resolve. She had failed Rachael as well.

From the kitchen came the chatter of young Maggie and the soft voice of Austin as he responded. Her whole family had depended on her and she . . .

Just when Anna had reached her lowest spirits, Rachael turned from her nursing and looked up at her mother. A contented smile lit her blue eyes and her chubby cheeks dimpled as she smiled and cooed, her eyes intent on Anna’s face.

“You don’t know, do you? You don’t realize that I’ve let you down. You think all that matters is that you’re fed and diapered and—and loved.”

The baby reached for the simple brooch on Anna’s blouse. Her coos turned to bubble blowing.

Anna’s vision blurred. She loved her babies. Loved her family. She did wish—did long to care for them better.

She lifted Rachael to coax up a burp and snuggled the tiny body against her shoulder. She needed the warmth, the comfort. She needed to feel that life had purpose—reason. That even in its confusion it made some kind of sense.

Rachael managed to get tiny fingers tangled in her mother’s hair and soon had pins worked out and strands of hair falling about Anna’s ears.

“You are sure making a mess of Mama,” Anna softly scolded as she unwrapped the fingers, then drew them to her lips. Rachael responded with a squeal.

“Mama,” called Maggie from the kitchen. “Mama, Papa an’ me is all done.”

“Did you clean up your plate?” asked Anna automatically and instantly remembered her own full plate of food.

“Yep, I did,” answered Maggie and Anna heard Austin softly correct, “Yes, I did.”

“Papa did, too,” called Maggie, misinterpreting Austin’s words. Anna heard Austin chuckle. It was a welcome sound. Anna hoped that his heaviness had passed. That he had been able to shake it better than she had.

Anna spent the next days mending, cleaning, pressing—and still her wardrobe was painfully inadequate. At last she broached the subject with Austin again. “I think that the girls and I will just stay home this year. By next year, perhaps Rachael will be trained and it will be much easier to attend.”

Austin did not argue. He just answered softly, “Are you sure?”

Anna nodded. She hated to miss the opportunity of gathering with the other women. She hated to lose the chance for a good talk with Mrs. Angus. She hated to miss out on the tasty food, the laughter, the fellowship. But she did not want to disgrace her husband by appearing in worn garments, with two daughters dreadfully lacking in proper attire.

“I’ll miss you,” said Austin simply, but then the matter was dropped.

On the day of departure, Anna had Austin’s suit brushed and pressed and waiting. It was showing wear in a number of spots, but at least it was clean. His shoes were polished until they glowed—and the worn toe did not show too much. Anna had used a little stove blackening under the polish.

Anna bade him a cheerful goodbye, straightening his tie and fixing the new collar so that it “set” properly. “I’ll miss you,” he said again as he embraced her.

Anna managed a smile. “It won’t be long and you’ll be home again,” she assured him. “And remember, I want to know all the news. Keep notes if you have to.”

He smiled. Anna expected a bit of teasing, but he just nodded his head in promise.

Austin kissed his little girls and turned to Anna one more time.

“If you need anything, call on Mr. Brady,” he reminded her. Anna nodded.

“Bye, then.” “Bye,” responded Anna, and then adding one last thought, she reached out and straightened an errant lapel, “Don’t forget,” she whispered to him, “don’t take your coat off.”

Chapter Twenty-three

News

“Where is Papa?” Maggie asked for what seemed to Anna to be the hundredth time.

“Papa is at Conference,” she answered evenly.

“Why?”

“Because Papa had to go.” Anna had tried to explain in fuller detail earlier, but the small girl had not understood. Now Anna shortened the exchange with a simple “Because.”

“Why not me?” asked Maggie, pouting.

“Next time, perhaps,” responded Anna.

“But I wanted this time,” said Maggie, her chin lifting in her defiance. “I tell Papa, ‘This time.’ ”

Anna nodded. She was busy folding laundered diapers and her thoughts were on the threadbare material rather than her daughter’s disappointment at being left behind.

They are so thin, she mused to herself and then heard Maggie’s “I not thin” as she stood to full height and puffed out her little chest.

“Not you,” said Anna with a smile in spite of her troubled spirit. “Rachael’s diapers. They are hardly worth putting on anymore.”

Maggie reached out a hand to rub one of the folded diapers.

“If only I had some more material,” continued Anna, though she knew that her little daughter had no idea what she was talking about, “I could sew Rachael some new didies.”

“Maggie, too?”

“Maggie doesn’t need didies. Maggie is a big girl.” Anna was glad she had only one child needing diapering.

Rachael squealed and Maggie climbed from the kitchen chair where she had been watching her mother and ran to her baby sister. Anna scarcely heard the giggles and chatter.

The Indian mothers used to use soft moss, she was telling herself. But I have no idea where one would find any.

Anna’s thoughts traveled on. I wonder if there is anything else that might work. Feathers? No. Feathers would never do. There’d be no way to wash and dry them as needed. Surely—surely I have something around here I could spare so I could make new diapers.

But Anna could think of nothing. She was already down to one sheet on her bed. She was short as it was of tea towels. They had no more bath towels or hand towels than they absolutely needed. All the usable materials from the last missionary barrel had already been used. There seemed to be nothing. Nothing.

Wool, thought Anna suddenly. Wool might work.

But Anna could think of no local farmers who raised sheep.

And then Anna thought of the quilt on their bed. “It has wool,” she reasoned aloud. “I could take a bit from the edges.”

Anna went to their bedroom and lifted a corner of their comforter. Carefully she examined it to determine where she could remove some of the batting without doing too much damage to the quilt. It might work. She removed the comforter and took it with her to the kitchen table. From this corner and that corner, and all along her side, she stole from the quilt, then restitched the seams.

With her little bunches of wool spread out before her, Anna began her task. She worked the wool with her fingers until she had it fluffy. Then she divided and shaped soft little piles. One by one she unfolded the worn diapers and inserted a piece of her precious wool in the center of each. The diapers took on a fluffier look, and Anna was sure they would be much better for Rachael. She wished she had more wool and then remembered that she didn’t have any more diapers anyway. She was down to ten. That meant constant washings and struggles to get them dry on rainy or cool days. But she was managing and Rachael didn’t seem any the worse for her lack.

“Don’t bite,” she heard Maggie cry suddenly, and the sharp comment was followed by a loud wail.

Anna turned from the table to hurry to her child.

“What happened?” she asked the crying Maggie.

“Rachael bite me,” the girl managed through her tears.

“Babies don’t have teeth,” Anna reminded Maggie. She lifted the little girl, prepared to assure her that Rachael’s bites were hardly worth all the fuss, but as she observed the finger that Maggie was holding out to her she did see a tiny mark.

“Whatever—?” she began but Maggie interrupted.

“She bite me,” she maintained. “An’ I didn’t even bite her.”

Rachael, who had been looking bewildered about all of the commotion, suddenly joined in the crying. Anna didn’t know which daughter to try to comfort first.

“Rachael didn’t mean to bite you,” she began to explain to Maggie, but Maggie was in no mood to listen.

“She did,” she argued. “She just put her mouth like this—right at me—and she just bite my finger like this—hard.”

She demonstrated.

“I know,” said Anna. “I know that she bit your finger, but she didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why did she do it hard?” cried Maggie.

Anna eased herself to the floor and managed to lift both daughters onto her lap.

“Let Mama see,” said Anna and Maggie held out her finger again. Yes, it did look like a little tooth mark.

“I didn’t think Rachael had teeth—” she began.

Maggie interrupted through her tears, “Not teeth. I—I think Rachael has a needle.”

Anna smiled. It may have felt like a needle to Maggie.

Anna turned her attention back to Rachael, who had stopped her crying and was studying her older sister with inquisitive eyes. The tears still glistened on the little round cheeks and clung to the long lashes, but Rachael seemed more amused than frightened now.

Anna tried again to calm Maggie and gradually the tears subsided.

“Now, let’s check,” Anna said to Maggie, a trace of excitement in her voice. “Remember that when Rachael was born, Mama told you the baby had no teeth. Well, maybe she has one now. That means our baby is starting to grow up.”

Maggie still looked doubtful, though her crying had turned to sniffles.