Anna's Gift. Emma Miller
“Never mind the biscuits, just pick them up,” Samuel said. Somehow, before Anna could think what to do next, he had taken charge. He crossed the kitchen, retrieved the cast-iron frying pan from the floor using a hand towel, and set it safely on top of the stove. “How bad is the burn?” he asked as he put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the sink. “Is it going to blister?”
“I’m all right,” Anna protested, twisting out of his warm embrace. Her palm stung, but she was hardly aware of it. All she could think of was the sensation of Samuel’s strong arm around her and the way her knees felt as wobbly as if they were made of biscuit dough.
Samuel gently took her hand in his large calloused one, turned on the faucet, and held her palm under the cold water. “It doesn’t look bad,” he said.
“Ne.” Anna felt foolish. How could she have been so careless? She was an experienced cook. She knew better than to take anything out of the oven without a hot mitt.
“Let the water do its work.” Samuel said, speaking softly, as if to a skittish colt, and the tenderness in his deep voice made Anna’s heart go all a-flutter again. “The cold will take the sting away.”
“Does it hurt?” Susanna asked.
Anna glanced at her sister. Susanna looked as if she were about to burst into tears. “Ne. It’s fine,” Anna assured her. Susanna couldn’t bear to see anyone in pain. From the corner of her eye, Anna saw Mae raise a biscuit to her mouth. “Don’t eat that,” she cautioned. “It’s dirty if it’s been on the floor.”
Samuel chuckled, picked up a handful of the biscuits and brushed them off against his shirt. “A little scorched, but not so bad they can’t be salvaged,” he said.
“In our house, we have a five-second rule,” Naomi explained, grabbing more biscuits off the floor. “If you grab it up quick, it’s okay.”
“Mam says floors are dirty,” Susanna said, but she was picking up biscuits as well, piling them on a plate on the table.
Anna knew her face must be as hot as the skillet. Why was it that the minute Samuel Mast walked in the door, she turned into a complete klutz? She hadn’t burned biscuits in years. She always paid close attention to whatever she had in the oven. She wished she could throw her apron over her face and run away, like yesterday, but she knew that she couldn’t get away with that twice.
“Don’t put them on the table,” Anna said. “They’re ruined. I’ll feed them to the chickens.”
“But I want biscuit and honey,” Mae pouted, eyeing the heaped plate. “Yes’erday, she …” She pointed at Susanna. “She gave me a honey biscuit. It was yum.”
“Shh,” Naomi said to her little sister. “Remember your manners, Mae.”
“I can make more,” Anna offered.
“Nonsense.” Samuel scooped up Mae and raised her high in the air, coaxing a giggle out of her. “We’ll cut off the burned parts and eat the other half, won’t we?”
Anna took a deep breath and shook her head. She was mortified. What would Mam think, if she found out that she’d served guests burned biscuits they’d picked up off the floor? Pride might be a sin, but Mam had high standards for her kitchen. And so did she, for that matter. “Really, Samuel,” she protested. “I’d rather make another batch.”
“Tell you what,” he offered, depositing Mae on the floor and unbuttoning his coat. “I came here to offer you a deal. Maybe we can make biscuits part of it.”
“I … I l-l-like b-biscuits,” Lori Ann said shyly. “A-a-and I’m hungry.”
“He made us egg,” Mae supplied, tugging on Anna’s apron. “Don’t like runny egg.” Anna noticed that she was wearing the too-large kapp that she and Susanna had put on her yesterday, while her sisters wore wool scarves over their hair. Mae’s kapp was a little worse for wear, but it gave Anna a warm feeling that Samuel had thought to put it on her today.
“Hush, girls,” Samuel said. It was his turn to flush red. “They don’t think much of my cooking. Naomi’s learning, but she’s only nine.”
“Naomi’s eggs is yuck,” Mae agreed.
Naomi stuck her tongue out at her sister. “We don’t criticize each other’s work, and you shouldn’t make ugly faces,” Anna corrected. Then she blushed again. What right did she have to admonish Samuel’s children? That would be Mam’s task, once she and Samuel were husband and wife. But it was clear that someone needed to take a hand in their raising. Men didn’t understand little girls, or kitchens for that matter.
“Listen to Anna,” Samuel said with a grin. “It’s cold outside, Naomi. Your Grossmama used to tell me that if I stuck my tongue out at my sisters my face might freeze. You don’t want your face to freeze like that, do you?” Susanna giggled. “That would be silly.” “And we’re not outside.” Samuel gave Naomi a reproving look. “Sorry, Mae.” Embarrassed, Naomi looked down at her boots. Puddles of water were forming on the floor around them.
“For goodness’ sakes, take off your coats,” Anna urged, motioning with her hands. “It’s warm in the kitchen, and you’ll all overheat.”
“I’m afraid we tracked up your clean floor with our wet boots,” Samuel said.
Anna shrugged. “Not to worry. You can leave them near the door with ours.” She motioned to Susanna. “Get everyone’s coats and hang them behind the stove to dry. I have bacon ready, and I’ll make French toast. We’ll all have breakfast together.”
“What—what about b-b-b-biscuits?” Lori Ann asked. “Let me give you a hot breakfast, and I promise I’ll make a big pan later,” Anna offered. Lori Ann sighed and nodded. Samuel looked at his daughters shrugging off their wet coats, then back at Anna. “We didn’t come to make more work for you. We ate. We don’t have to eat again.”
Anna waved them to the table. “Feeding friends is never work, and growing children are never full.” She opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves, choosing applesauce, cold sweet potatoes and the remainder of the ham they’d had for supper the night before. “Susanna, would you set some extra plates and then put some cocoa and milk on to heat?”
“I—I—I l-l-like c-c-cocoa,” Lori Ann stuttered. Lori Ann had pale blue eyes and lighter hair than either of her sisters. Anna thought that she resembled the twin boys, Rudy and Peter, while Mae looked like her late mother.
Mae, in her stocking feet, scrambled up on the bench. “Me, too! I wike cocoa.”
“If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” Samuel said, but his eyes were on the ham and bacon, and he was already pulling out the big chair at the head of the table.
Anna felt better as she bustled around the kitchen and whipped up a hearty breakfast. She liked feeding people, and she liked making them comfortable in Mam’s house. When she was busy, it was easier to forget that Samuel was here and Mam wasn’t.
“I want honey biscuit,” Mae chirped. When no one responded, she repeated it in Deitsch, the German dialect many Amish used in their homes.
“Be still,” Naomi cautioned. “You’re getting French toast or nothing.”
“She speaks both Deitsch and English well for her age,” Anna said, flipping thick slices of egg-battered toast in the frying pan.
“Louise has done well with her. I know many children don’t speak English until they go to school, but I think it’s best they speak Deitsch and English from babies on.”
“Ya,” Susanna agreed, taking a seat between two of the girls. “English and Deitsch.”
“Mam says the same thing.” Anna brought cups of cocoa to the table for everyone. “She says young ones