Anna on the Farm Page 7

  Father starts to laugh. "We thought we were surprising Anna," he tells Mother, "but it seems she's surprised us."

  "Indeed she has." Mother does not laugh. "Come inside with me this moment, Anna Sherwood."

  As Anna follows Mother into the house, she hears Theodore say, "Is Anna getting a spanking?"

  "No," says Father, no doubt disappointing Theodore. "I imagine she's about to have a bath."

  "That's even worse than a spanking," Theodore says.

  "Agnes," Mother says, "I cannot believe you permitted Anna to wear overalls and go barefoot. Why, she's not even clean."

  Aunt Aggie shrugs. "Anna's in the country, not the city. Things are different here, Lizzie."

  "But look at her face." Mother snatches Theodores old hat off Annas head and points at her sunburned nose and her freckles. "In Baltimore, proper girls don't get sunburned. They don't have freckles. And only servants wear their hair in braids."

  While Mother and Aunt Aggie quarrel, Anna looks from one to the other. If Aunt May were here, Mother would have switched to German by now, but, like Father, Aunt Aggie doesn't speak any language except English. For once, Anna can understand every word Mother says.

  Taking a deep breath, Aunt Aggie says, "A bath and a hairbrush is all Anna needs."

  "The best soap in the world won't scrub off sunburn and freckles," says Mother.

  "They'll fade," says Aunt Aggie. "In no time, Anna will be her usual ladylike self."

  Behind Mother's back, Anna makes a face. She doesn't want to be her old ladylike self. She wants to spend the whole summer on the farm. Go barefoot every day. Wear raggedy overalls and braids and Theodore's old straw hat. Never wash her face or hands or take a bath.

  While Mother brushes Annas hair, Aunt Aggie heats water on the stove and fills a round tub in the kitchen for Annas bath. She puts a screen around it so Anna will have privacy.

  In Baltimore, Anna's house has hot and cold running water. She bathes in a big porcelain tub with claw feet. When she's clean, she pulls the plug and away the water goes, down the pipes with a loud gurgle and into the sewer.

  "Scrub hard, Anna," Mother says.

  Anna takes the soapy cloth from Mother and begins to wash. "Don't be cross with me," she says.

  Mother sighs. "Oh, Anna, it's for your own good," she says. "I want to raise you properly."

  Anna studies Mother's face. She wishes she could tell her everything she's done on the farm, but she's not sure Mother wants to hear about the goat or the rope swing in the barn or the day she went swimming in her underwear.

  "I missed you and Father," she says, "and I'm happy you're here."

  Mother kisses Anna's cheek. "I missed you, too," she says. "The house was so empty without you, so quiet."

  Anna slumps down in the tub and stares at her knees rising out of the gray water like two skinny mountain peaks. "I must have been very dirty," she says.

  Mother laughs. "You certainly were." She holds out a towel. "Now, get out and let me dry you."

  Anna snuggles into the towel. She's glad Mother isn't cross anymore.

  TWELVE

  The Church Supper

  AT FIVE O'CLOCK, ANNA LOOKS LIKE A CITY GIRL again. She's wearing her best white summer dress, mended so neatly Mother hasn't noticed the torn places. Her hair hangs down her back, a little wavy from the braids but as smooth and shiny as Mother's brush could make it. A big white ribbon tied in a bow holds her hair back from her face, which is still freckled despite the lemon juice Mother scrubbed it with.

  Worst of all, Anna is wearing shoes and stockings. Her poor feet feel cramped and pinched.

  When he sees Anna, Theodore stares at her as if she's a stranger. A city slicker.

  Anna doubles her fists, ready to punch Theodore if he says one mean thing, but he surprises her by saying, "Oh, Anna, I'd rather have a whipping than get all dressed up like that."

  Anna pictures Theodore in a pretty white lacy dress like hers and starts to laugh. "I don't think anyone would make you wear a dress, Theodore!"

  Theodore laughs, too. "You know what I mean."

  Just then Aunt Aggie calls Theodore to come inside and get ready for the church supper.

  Theodore tries to run away, but Aunt Aggie is too fast for him. She catches him by an overall strap and pulls him into the house. "You can't go to church looking like that," she says.

  When Theodore comes back outside, he looks different, too. His hair has been combed, and his face and hands scrubbed. Instead of overalls, he's wearing a white shirt. His collar is starched so stiff he can barely turn his head. His white knee-length pants show off his skinny legs. His shiny shoes look as tight as Anna's. All in all, Theodore is even more miserable than Anna.

  "It's only because of the food," he tells Anna. "Aunt Aggie said I won't get anything to eat if I don't dress up. Not even a piece of fried chicken."

  Uncle George steps onto the porch. Like Father, he's wearing a suit, but his is black, not white. "Well, well," Uncle George says to Anna and Theodore, "look at you two, a perfect lady and a perfect gentleman."

  Anna and Theodore both scowl at their uncle. They do not feel complimented. Neither wants to be a perfect lady or gentleman. What they want is fried chicken and potato salad, baked beans and pickles, corn on the cob and cole slaw, cake, pie, cookies, and homemade ice cream. If they must be ladies and gentlemen to get it, that's what they'll be. But only for tonight. Tomorrow they'll be themselves again. Or at least Theodore will. Poor Anna will be riding the train to Baltimore.

  Uncle George drives everyone to church in the farm wagon. Anna and Theodore sit on the front seat beside him. Mother, Aunt Aggie, and Father sit in the back.

  St. John's Church sits on a hill above the Baltimore Pike. Its red brick walls glow in the late-afternoon sunlight and its steeple pokes high into the sky. The grass and dirt around the church are full of farm wagons and automobiles, a Model T Ford here, a cart there. The horses wait patiently, their heads down. The women go inside, carrying covered baskets. The men stand around in groups talking. Boys and girls play tag in the graveyard.

  Mother eyes the noisy children and takes Annas hand. "Come with me," she says. "We'll help the women prepare the food."

  Anna hangs back and watches Theodore run off to join his friends. She can't think of anything more boring than helping the women. "I want to play," she says.

  "Those children have no manners." Mother holds Anna's hand tighter.

  But Father comes to Anna's rescue. "Let Anna play, Lizzie," he says. "She can help the women when she's older."

  With great reluctance, Mother lets go of Annas hand. "Be careful," she says. "Don't tear your dress. And don't sit on the ground. You'll get a chill."

  Anna promises to behave and runs into the graveyard to find Theodore. Homer sees her coming. "Look at you—you're a girl, after all!" he hoots.

  Henry laughs and tries to pull Anna's hair, but she ducks away. Both boys look almost civilized. Their hands and faces are clean and so are their clothes.

  "Where's Theodore?" she ask Homer.

  "Ain't seen him," he says and runs off with Henry in pursuit of a red-haired girl.

  Anna searches among the tombstones. The farther she walks into the cemetery, the quieter it gets. Shadows stretch across the grass. The voices of the children are harder to hear.

  Just as Anna's about to run back to the church, she finds Theodore standing all alone in front of a tombstone in a corner of the graveyard. On the grass in front of the stone is a handful of wildflowers.

  Theodore glances at Anna and quickly turns his head. "What are you doing here?" he asks, keeping his face hidden.

  Anna doesn't answer right away. She reads the names on the tombstone and picks more flowers growing in the tall grass near the grave. Quietly, she lays them beside Theodore's. Her heart aches for him.

  "Is this your parents' grave?" she whispers.

  Theodore nods and wipes his nose on his sleeve.

  Anna draws in her breath
. She cannot imagine anything more terrible than losing Father and Mother. Just thinking about being an orphan scares her. She crosses her fingers and says a little prayer, begging God not to let anything happen to her parents.

  Slowly, Anna reaches out and touches Theodore's arm. He doesn't pull away. "You must miss them very much."

  "I miss them every single day," Theodore admits. Wiping his nose once more, he turns away from the grave. "Let's play tag with the others," he says, running off. "The last one there is It!"

  Because Theodore has a head start, he joins the game first, and Anna has to be It. But not for long. She's a good runner and soon tags Henry.

  Theodore shouts and laughs. He makes more noise than anyone else. Whenever he's It, he chases Anna. But he never goes near the quiet corner where his parents are buried.

  By the time the children are called inside for dinner, Anna has made several new friends. She has also lost her ribbon. Her hair is tangled. Her face is flushed. Her dress has a green grass stain on the skirt and the hem is coming out.

  Mother is not pleased with Anna's appearance. "Oh, Anna," she sighs. "Just look at you. Will you ever learn to be a lady?" She tries to smooth the tangles from Anna's hair. "If you stayed here much longer, I'm afraid you'd turn into a regular heathen."

  Although Anna has too much sense to say it, she'd rather be a heathen than a lady.

  "Come get in line," Aunt Aggie says, taking Anna's hand. "And fill your plate."

  The food is spread out on long tables. Anna has never seen so many delicious things. She piles her plate high with fried chicken and ham and corn on the cob, potato salad and fresh tomatoes, sweet pickle relish and baked beans and soft rolls.

  Mother is horrified. "Oh, Anna," she exclaims. "So much food! You'll make yourself sick!"

  Anna points at Theodore's plate, which is piled even higher than hers, and Father laughs. "They're growing children, Lizzie. Their stomachs can hold much more than ours."

  Mother sighs. "Eat slowly, Anna, and stop when your tummy feels full. I guess it won't hurt you to gain a little weight."

  Mother sets a good example by taking a small bite of Aunt Aggie's famous potato salad. "This is delicious," she says. "Would you give me the recipe, Aggie?"

  "Of course." Aunt Aggie gives Mother a big smile.

  Anna smiles, too. It seems her mother and her aunt are no longer cross with each other. Nor is Mother cross with her. Anna turns her attention to her plate and eats everything. When she's finished, she sits back and pats her stomach. She hasn't eaten this much since Christmas.

  After dinner, Reverend Johnson finds two older boys to crank the phonograph. Soon couples begin to dance. Father gets to his feet and takes Mother's hand. He leads her out on the floor.

  While a record of "The Blue Danube" plays, they waltz around the floor, gazing into each other's eyes but never missing a step. Father looks so handsome in his white suit. Mother looks so beautiful in her blue silk dress. Anna smiles. Her parents are the best dancers of all.

  Aunt Aggie looks at Uncle George. "Dance with me," she says.

  Uncle George's face turns redder than his sunburn. "Oh, now, Aggie," he mumbles. "You know I'm not one for fancy stepping."

  Aunt Aggie jumps up and grabs his hand. "If Cyrus Skinner can get out there and dance with his wife, you can dance with me, George Armiger!"

  Even though Uncle George is more than a foot taller than Aunt Aggie, he lets her have her way. Around the floor they go, rocking this way and that, bumping into other couples now and then, but dancing nonetheless.

  Anna claps her hands and laughs at the sight of so many people having a good time. Fat men dance with skinny women, and skinny men dance with fat women. Short and tall, tall and short, they all spin past, laughing and talking as they go.

  When she catches a glimpse of Nell in the arms of a handsome young man, Anna turns to Theodore. "Do you want to dance?"

  "No, siree!" Theodore gets up so fast he almost knocks his chair over. Before Anna knows what he's doing, he's run outside.

  She thinks about chasing him and dragging him back, but it's dark now. Although she isn't scared of graveyards in the daylight, she's scared of them at night. If Theodore is hiding behind a tombstone, he can stay there. Let the ghosts get him. See if she cares.

  Just then Father and Mother return to the table. Mother drops gracefully into a chair and fans herself. When Father picks up a glass of water, Anna remembers something she saw him do once.

  "Father, can you still waltz with a glass of water balanced on your head?" she asks.

  "I think so." Father glances at Mother. "Shall we give it a try, Lizzie?"

  Mother shakes her head. "No, thank you, Ira. I'm much too warm to dance."

  Father takes Anna's hand. "How about you? Will you be my partner?"

  Anna curtsies, just as she learned in dancing lessons. "I'd be honored, Father."

  When Father balances the glass of water on his head, Mother says, "Oh, no, Ira, please don't show off. You'll mortify me." But she laughs as she speaks.

  Father just laughs and waltzes out onto the floor with Anna. Round and round they go. The glass of

  water on Father's head sways a few times, but he never spills a drop.

  When other people see what Father is doing, they stop dancing to watch. Anna sees Nell smile. She hears Mr. Skinner bet Mr. O'Reilly a dime that the glass will fall. She grins. Mr. Skinner is sure to lose that dime.

  Round and round, round and round, Anna matches her steps to Father's. Mother may be red-faced with embarrassment, but Anna has never been so proud in her whole life.

  When the scratchy old record finally comes to a stop, Father removes the glass of water and bows to Anna. He still hasn't spilled a drop. Anna curtsies again.

  Everyone claps, except Mother, who is hiding her face behind her fan, and Mr. Skinner, who is reaching into his pocket for the dime he owes Mr. O'Reilly.

  Best of all, Nell takes Anna aside to tell her what good dancers she and Father are. "And you look so pretty in that dress." Nell laughs. "The last time I saw you, you were soaking wet!"

  "Shh!" Anna glances at Mother, but luckily she hasn't heard Nell. She's happily gossiping with Mrs. Buell in German. Anna hopes nothing will be said about Cousin Herman.

  To Nell, she says, "Is that boy one of your beaus?"

  Nell giggles. "He thinks he is."

  "He's very handsome," Anna says. "And he's looking at you right now."

  "He is?" Nell blushes and leans down to whisper in Anna's ear. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm very fond of him. His name is Emory Harrison."

  Anna grins. She loves secrets, especially romantic ones. "I think he's going to ask you to dance again."

  While she and Nell whisper together, Emory Harrison walks up and asks Nell to dance, just as Anna knew he would. As Nell waltzes away, she blows a kiss to Anna, and Anna blows it back. Maybe she'll have a beau as handsome as Emory someday. Probably it will be Charlie Murphy. If he ever learns to dance, that is.

  Anna sits down beside Mother. It's been a very long day and she's suddenly very tired.

  Mother smooths Anna's hair and kisses the top of her head. "I think a certain little girl needs to go to bed," she says softly.

  Anna nods her head sleepily. She's ready to go home now.

  Taking Anna's hand, Mother leads the way to the wagon. Father and Uncle George follow. Aunt Aggie calls Theodore. He comes running from the graveyard, shouting good-bye to Homer.

  On the way back to the farm, Anna sits on Father's lap. The wagon bounces, the horse's harness creaks. From the dark woods, an owl calls. Lightning bugs twinkle in the hedgerows like Christmas tree candles. Cicadas and crickets buzz and chirp. A soft warm breeze wafts the smells of honeysuckle and wild roses into Anna's face.

  Anna shifts her position so she can see Father's face in the moonlight. He smiles at her. "Did you have a good time tonight?" he asks.

  "It was the best night of my whole entire life," Anna says.

 
"Me, too," Theodore says. "I never ever ate so much good food."

  "Just hope you don't have a bellyache tomorrow," Uncle George says.

  "Even if I did, it would be worth it," Theodore says, stretching his mouth wide in a huge yawn.

  Anna yawns, too, and closes her eyes. Her head bumps against Father's shoulder. She smells Mother's perfume, the lilac water Anna gave her for Christmas. It is truly the best night of Anna's whole entire life. She wishes it could last forever.

  THIRTEEN

  Home Again, Home Again

  SUNDAY MORNING ON THE FARM IS DIFFERENT FROM other mornings. Although the chickens must be fed and the garden weeded, Uncle George does not get up before sunrise. He does not work in his fields. Instead, he sits down at the table and eats a big breakfast with everyone else.

  "The good Lord got tired and rested on the Sabbath," Uncle George tells Anna. "What's good for Him is good for me. It's my day of rest, too."

  "We have to go to church, though," Theodore whispers to Anna. "Which means wearing shoes two days in a row. I tell you, my toes will hurt for a week."

  Anna sighs and smooths the skirt of her dress. She thinks sadly of the overalls she's left behind. "At least you'll be able to go barefoot tomorrow," she tells Theodore. "I'll be back in the city, wearing shoes and dresses every single boring day."

  "Poor you." Theodore actually looks sympathetic.

  "Come along," Aunt Aggie calls from the wagon. "Church starts in ten minutes."

  Uncle George hoists Theodore onto the seat between him and Aunt Aggie. Father gives Anna a hand. She sits beside Mother. Their suitcases are already in the wagon so they can go straight to the railroad station from church. Anna turns around in her seat and watches the farm disappear over the hill. "Good-bye, farm," she whispers.

  Mother strokes Anna's hand, but she's very quiet. Mother is worried, and Anna knows why. At home they go to Saint Gregory's, a Catholic church, but today they're going to St John's with Aunt Aggie and Uncle George. It's an Episcopal church. There is no Catholic church in Beltsville. Mother isn't sure Catholics should go to St John's, but Father says it's almost the same as St. Gregory's. He was an Episcopalian before he married Mother, so he should know.