Anna's Gift. Emma Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ could slip and fall. And since she didn’t want to leave Susanna home alone, she’d have to take her, as well.

      Anna considered calling a driver, but the money for the ride would go better into replacing the paint. If only she hadn’t been so clumsy and wasted what Mam had already purchased. She wondered if she could find some leftover lavender paint in the cellar. If there was any, maybe she could cover the blue splashes, and put the room back as it had been.

      But the truth was, Grossmama would be angry if she found her new bedroom English purple, and Mam would be disappointed in Anna. Anna had caused the trouble, and it was her responsibility to fix it. Snow or no snow, she’d have to go and buy more blue paint.

      What a noodlehead she’d been! Was she losing her hearing, that she’d imagined Samuel had said that he wanted to court her? She tried not to wonder how Susanna could have misheard, as well. It was funny, really, the whole misunderstanding. Years from now, she and her sisters would laugh over the whole incident. As for Samuel, Anna thought she’d just act normal around him, be pleasant, pretend the whole awful incident had never happened and not cause either of them any further embarrassment.

      After the outside chores, Anna returned to the house, built up the fire in the wood cookstove, and mixed up a batch of buttermilk biscuits while the oven was heating. Once the biscuits were baking, she washed some dishes and put bacon on. “Do you want eggs?” she asked her sister.

      “Ya,” Susanna nodded. “Sunshine up.” She finished setting the table and was pouring tomato juice in two glasses, when Flora, their Shetland sheepdog, began to bark. Instantly, Jeremiah, the terrier, added his excited yips and ran in circles.

      “I wonder who’s here so early?” Anna turned the sizzling bacon and pulled the pan to a cooler area of the stove.

      Susanna ran to the door. “Maybe it’s Mam and Grossmama.”

      “Too early for them.” Thank goodness. Not that she wasn’t eager for Mam to get home. Her younger sisters had been away for nearly a year, with only short visits home, and she’d missed them terribly. But Grossmama would make a terrible fuss if her room wasn’t ready and the walls were still splashed with blue paint.

      Susanna flung open the door to greet their visitor, and the terrier shot out onto the porch and bounced up and down with excitement, as if his legs were made of springs. Coming up the back steps was the very last person on earth Anna expected to see. It was Samuel, and he’d brought his three daughters: five-year-old Lori Ann, nine-year-old Naomi and Mae, all bundled up in quilted blue coats and black rain boots. They poured through the door Susanna held open for them. The two older girls carried paint rollers, and Samuel had a can of paint in each hand.

      “It’s Samuel!” Susanna shouted above the terrier’s barking. “And Mae! And Naomi! And Lori Ann!”

      Anna’s stomach flip-flopped as she forced a smile, wiping her hands nervously on her apron. “Samuel.” She looked to Naomi. “No school today?”

      She pushed her round, wire-frame glasses back into place. “My tummy had a tickle this morning, but I’m better now.”

      “I think we were missing our teacher,” Samuel explained. “I let her stay home. She never misses. Do I smell biscuits?” He grinned and held up the paint cans. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your breakfast, but I wanted to get an early start on those walls.”

      Confused, Anna stared at him. “You wanted to get an early start? You bought paint?”

      “Last night.” He smiled again, and mischief danced in his dark eyes as he set the cans on the floor. The girls added the rollers and brushes to the pile. “I just took my shirt along to the store, and they were able to match the color perfectly.”

      “Good you brought paint,” Susanna announced. “Now we don’t have to take the buggy to town.”

      “I don’t know what to say.” Anna gripped the front of her apron. “It’s kind of you, but you have so much to do at your farm. We’ll pay for the paint, of course, but—”

      “I smell something burning.” Naomi peered over her glasses and grimaced.

      Anna spun around to see smoke rising from the stove. “Oh, my biscuits!” She ran to snatch open the oven door, and used the hem of her apron to grab the handle of the cast-iron frying pan.

      “Be careful,” Samuel warned. A cloud of smoke puffed out of the oven, stinging Anna’s eyes. She gave a yelp as the heat seared her palm through the cloth, and she dropped the frying pan. It bounced off the open door, sending biscuits flying, and landed with a clang on the floor. Anna clapped her stinging hand to her mouth.

      Lori Ann squealed, throwing her mitten-covered hands into the air, and the terrier darted across the floor, snatched a biscuit and ran with it. In the far doorway, the dog dropped the biscuit, then bit into it again, and carried it triumphantly under the table. Flora grabbed one, too, and ran for the sitting room with her prize.

      “They’re burned,” Naomi pronounced, turning in a circle in the middle of the biscuits. “You burned them, Anna.”

      “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 СКАЧАТЬ