The Measure of a Heart (5 page)

And Mrs. Trent leaned increasingly on Anna. Both as co-laborer and as companion. She talked while they worked together, her mind skipping from one topic to another. Anna’s active mind, often busy with her own thoughts, tried to concentrate so she might follow the conversation.

“That young minister isn’t coming back this summer. Mrs. Angus told me. I guess that means Nettie won’t get another chance at him. Mrs. Angus is slower than ever on that poor leg. Guess she won’t get time off this summer though. Expect she doesn’t have a granddaughter getting married this year. Too bad. The poor soul looks like she could use another rest. She works too hard. I told Mrs. Shehan that it isn’t right for the church to expect so much of her. We should have a younger pastor’s wife. ’Course that would mean a younger pastor. Wonder what his plans are when he finishes his seminary.”

Anna soon realized that her mother had gone full circle.

“You know his plans?” Mrs. Trent asked Anna abruptly.

Anna shook her head.

“He doesn’t mention them in his letters.”

“No,” said Anna.

“What does he write?”

“He tells about his studies. We—discuss the books. The teachings. What we think about certain ideas,” explained Anna truthfully.

Mrs. Trent seemed to dismiss the comment as either too deep to be understood or too boring to consider.

“This is his last year?”

Anna agreed that it was.

“Then he must plan on taking a pastorate next spring.”

“I would expect so,” said Anna, then continued. “He hasn’t said.”

“Wonder if he’d consider coming back here,” pondered Mrs. Trent. “He was a good preacher. Suppose he’ll be lookin’
for a big city church. Or they’ll be lookin’ for him. Even boys listened. Didn’t squirm nearly as much. Poor Pastor Angus. He is a dear, dear man of God—but he loses his train of thought every now and then.”

Anna’s thoughts returned to her mother’s earlier statement. It was true—some of her brothers had sat and listened to Austin Barker.

“Well, it would be worth looking into,” continued Mrs. Trent. “One never knows unless one tries. Why don’t you just sorta ask him what his plans are in one of your letters?”

But Anna could never feel free to probe into the plans of the young minister. If he wished to share his thoughts regarding his future, he’d do so in his own time, she reasoned.

The second spring since Anna finished school drew near. Life continued on in the same way that it had, full of work that changed only with the season.

Anna still delivered the milk to the parsonage, taking full advantage of those enjoyable visits with the elderly parson and his wife.

And then one day she was surprised and confused by a turn in their conversation.

“We are going to the graduation ceremonies,” Mrs. Angus told her. “Mr. Barker has asked if it would be possible for us to take you with us.”

“Me?” exclaimed Anna incredulously.

“He said that you have a real interest in learning and might find it interesting to see a graduation ceremony. Would you like to go?”

“Well, I—I—I’ll have to ask Papa and Mama!” exclaimed Anna.

She was excited and scared at the same time. It would be wonderful to see a real graduation ceremony. It would be wonderful to visit a seminary—even for a few hours. It would be wonderful to see another small part of the great big world. But she wouldn’t fit. She really had no business going. She didn’t know how to conduct herself in such circumstances. She didn’t know what to say or how to say it. What to do. What to wear. Why, she likely didn’t have one thing in her closet that would be fitting.

“I . . . I don’t suppose—” she began.

“Mr. Barker will be writing a letter to your father and mother asking for their permission,” the kind woman continued.

Oh no, thought Anna. Mama would be just likely to say yes. She—she thinks that—that I—that I would just jump at the chance. But—Anna looked down at her faded cotton. She hadn’t done much growing over the last few years, but her dress was definitely too short—and too tight. Whatever would she wear?

But Mrs. Angus was speaking again.

“Last time I was down to visit my daughter, she gave me a couple of boxes of clothes that had been her girls’. Said if I knew of anyone who could make use of them—” The woman stopped and smiled at Anna. “If it doesn’t bother you to wear hand-me-downs, we could go through the box and see what we might find.”

Anna nodded, her throat tight. It wouldn’t bother her at all to wear hand-me-downs. She guessed that she had never had a perfectly new dress in all of her life. Her mother had always sewn her things from garments passed on from one aunt or another.

She swallowed with difficulty and nodded her head.

“I’d like to go—if Pa and Mama say yes—and if you are sure that I won’t be a bother to you and the pastor . . . and if we can find something in the boxes to fit,” she admitted, but fear was still mixed with the excitement in her eyes.

Chapter Five

Preparations

Over the days that followed, Anna’s emotions ran the gamut. From excitement and joy, she was plunged to doubt and despair. Then she would be swung back into the arms of exhilaration again, only to be dropped back to utter desperation.

The boxes of hand-me-downs proved to supply many nice pieces of material. Anna was much smaller than the two granddaughters of Mrs. Angus. But Anna had been taught to be a skilled seamstress, and with the help of her mother and Mrs. Angus, a fitting, though simple, wardrobe was designed and sewn. Anna was thankful and elated about that part of her dilemma.

But when thoughts of meeting so many strangers—so many educated people—assailed Anna, she floundered. If only she knew the proper rules for such occasions. She felt so inadequate, so backwoods, and she was too shy to discuss her lack of social skills with the kind Mrs. Angus.

At times she broke into a cold sweat just thinking about the upcoming events, and then she would determine to find some reason that she couldn’t go.

Then her thoughts would swing back to the graduation service. It would be so exciting to be a part of it—even a small part—and she would be so proud of Pastor Austin Barker when he marched up for his diploma. Would it be something like her certificate? she wondered, and then blushed in embarrassment for even thinking such a thought. His would be much more grand and important.

No, she decided, she couldn’t miss it. She just couldn’t. She’d have to keep her eyes and ears open and notice what others were doing. Perhaps she wouldn’t make any dreadfully big blunders. She would hang back and try to be as invisible as possible. She did not wish to embarrass the Anguses or her friend Austin Barker. He had been so kind to lend her his books and tutor her by letter.

Anna could tell that her mother was ecstatic about the invitation. She seemed to treat it like a coming-out, a debut for her only daughter. When Mrs. Trent talked about Anna’s trip, her mother did not appear to be filled with Anna’s many doubts. She sounded confident that her daughter would make quite an impression on the learned city people she would meet. She considered Anna to be dainty, attractive, gentle and considerate. What more could anyone want in a young woman? Anna knew by her mother’s comments that Mrs. Trent’s only regret was that she wouldn’t be there to witness the entire three-day trip. So her mother made the most of the preparations. She bubbled and gushed with enthusiasm as she stitched dainty seams, adding lace where Anna felt no lace was needed, placing tucks where Anna felt they could do without them, pressing until beads of sweat stood on her brow when Anna felt that the garment was already smoothly pressed.

“You need new shoes!” Mrs. Trent exclaimed one day as she labored over the invisible mending of a lace handkerchief.

“But, Mama—”

“I saw a pair in town last trip I made. Just right to go with the dresses.”

“But, Mama—”

“I’ve got egg money in the jar. Count it out. See if it’s enough for new shoes.”

“But, Mama—”

Mrs. Trent lifted her eyes from her needle for the first time. “Go ahead,” she said, nodding firmly toward the corner cupboard. “No daughter of mine is going to shame the family by having worn-out shoes on her feet.”

Anna laid aside the hem she was stitching in a newly sewn skirt and rose to do as bidden.

I wonder what she was saving the egg money for? she thought to herself as she moved to the cupboard.

There wasn’t quite enough money in the jar.

“Well, we can spare a few of those hens,” Mrs Trent said. “I was thinking of selling a dozen or so anyway. Take too much feed to get them all through the winter.”

It’s spring, Anna wanted to say, but she held her tongue.

“Tell Pa we need to make a trip to town. And tell him that we need to put a crate on the wagon for some of those hens.”

But as Anna moved toward the door, her mother changed her mind. “Never mind,” she said, “I need a stretch. I’ll tell him myself. You go get yourself changed and ready to go.”

She started toward the kitchen door and then turned to speak again, “An’ while you’re at it, get a pair of those fancy stockin’s.”

Reluctantly Anna moved toward her little bedroom. She felt terribly guilty that so much time, attention, and family money were being spent on her. She was so undeserving. What would she do with all the fancy new clothes after the trip to the city? Folks in the area wouldn’t be expecting her to be so dressed up—not even for Sunday church. It did not occur to Anna that she would be dressed no differently than the neighborhood girls her age.

She changed her clothes, loosed her braids, and pinned the long tresses up in soft swirls. Mrs. Angus had shown her how to pin her hair, and her mama had her practicing. It made her look a mite older—more her real age—than the braids. But it also made her face look even smaller, and her blue eyes seemed to dominate her face. The only thing it didn’t do was to make her long, straight nose diminish in size. Anna wished with all her heart that it would have.

Before leaving her room she reached for a book. If she was making the long trip into town, she might as well take full advantage of the time. She could even read to her father. He liked to discuss her new-found Bible knowledge almost as much as she did.

It was late afternoon by the time they returned from town. Anna’s new shoes were tucked safely in her lap. She had not released them all the way home, even though she and her father had enjoyed a vigorous discussion about Armageddon.

Her mother was in the yard. Anna wondered if it was coincidence or if the older woman could not wait to see the purchase.

“Did you get them?” Anna was asked as soon as the wagon had stopped rolling.

Anna lifted up her little parcel and nodded her head in agreement, her eyes taking on a shine.

The shine in Mrs. Trent’s eyes matched Anna’s. “Bring
’em in,” she said with a nod of her head.

Brothers began to come from this direction and that, and they all seemed to have the same question. “Did you get ’em?
Did you get ’em, Anna?”

Then the shout changed to, “Put ’em on! Put ’em on, Anna. Let’s see ’em!”

“Go ahead,” said Mrs. Trent, nodding her head toward Anna’s bedroom door. “Put them on—with the stockings—and try them with that gray-blue suit and the frilly blouse that you’ll be wearing to the graduation. Go ahead.”

Anna went to her room, excitement making her heart pound. She slipped out of her clothes and lifted the lovely white blouse with its generous lacy collar and cuffs from its peg. She had never expected to own such a garment. She could scarcely believe it was hers even now. She slipped into it and carefully did each button. Then she let the beautiful gray-blue skirt slide over her head and settle into place at her waist. Her fingers fumbled with the hooks in her nervousness. She eased into the jacket, adjusting the lapels as she studied her flushed face in the mirror.

Carefully she eased on the new stockings. She did not want to cause them damage.

The shoes came next. Anna looked forlornly at her discarded old ones. They were badly worn. Then she placed a tiny foot into the shiny new leather. It seemed to gleam up at her and she held her breath. She added its mate to her other foot and stood to her full height. Taking a deep breath she moved toward the door that separated her room from the kitchen.